Page 20 of Sinister Secrets

CHAPTER 12

I’m being stalked. Pretending not to notice, I pick up the hose by the nozzle and start rolling it around my arm to put it away. Take two steps forward to free up more length. From behind me, my movements are matched by a thump thump. I look over my left shoulder, then my right. Nothing.

Take another two steps forward. There are another two thumps.

The coil of hose gets heavy and wider. This time, once I’ve taken up the slack, I hurry forward six steps, then bend over quickly, peering through my legs. Catch Stephano as he bounces forward in my shadow.

When he spots me watching him, he draws to a sudden stop. Rises up on his hind hooves, dancing in place as he paws at the air in protest. Dropping back to his feet, he turns his head until he’s giving me an epic side-eye. Sticking out his tongue, he baas.

Laughing, I set the hose down in a neat stack and take a seat on the ground. The pygmy goat instantly forgives me as he frolics over and jumps in my lap.

“You’re too cute for your own good, you know that?”

He baas his agreement. Decides to be stingy with his cuddles and bounces away, springing from side to side as he does. Shaking my head, I get to my feet and open the pigs’ door. Though everyone’s been fed and watered, I feel the need to give them as much attention as I can while I have the chance.

Though they’re still eating, Chip and Bagel raise their snouts in the air and squeal in delight as I give their rumps a good scratch. Chip takes a step backward and leans heavily against my leg. Bagel twists around, sliming my calf with a piggy grin, lips smacking as she chews.

Usually, being in the barn with my favorite company is enough to still the maelstrom of my thoughts, but today it’s not working. Though the heaviness that’s weighed me down since I recognized the tattoo on the body during the autopsy this morning has eased, it refuses to lift completely.

I can’t stop feeling like there’s something important that I’m missing, a detail I’ve overlooked, a clue I’ve failed to see, and I’m worried that the consequences could be dire. The low growl of an engine stirs the dread that’s lingered in my stomach all day. Peering out the window, I watch until the vehicle comes into view. When Jake’s truck appears, I give the pigs a final pat, say goodnight to everyone, and head toward the house.

As I step inside, Jake emerges from the kitchen, beer in hand. He takes one look at me and the tired smile he’s wearing slides off his face.

“What’s wrong?”

I feel horrible. I can tell he’s had a rough day, as evidenced by his need for a drink first thing. I wish I could put this off, if only for a bit, but he needs to know what’s happening.

Crossing the room, I gesture toward the couch. Once he’s settled beside me, I try to find my voice, the words to release this deep well of fear that’s sprung up inside of me, but they don’t come.

“Cassie, you’re really starting to make me worry. Just say it.”

“The body is Gordon Massey’s,” I blurt out.

“Gordon? You mean your old friend from school? The one who was working with the group that was after the Sanctuary?”

“Yes.”

Jake exhales loudly. Takes a long sip of his beer before offering me the bottle. I decline, needing to stay sharp, though I already feel dull.

“What’s this mean?” he asks.

“I don’t know.” Except I think that I do, I just don’t want to admit it. Because I’ve been examining the situation from every possible angle, and every time I try to put a positive spin on it, it fails to hold weight. Someone purposely left that body for me to find.

“Have you called Marla?”

Director in Charge Marla Jacobson is more than just a boss. She’s a friend. One of the closest things I have to family. Only, I guess that boss part is about to be wrong. I shake my head.

“Why not?”

“This isn’t her problem.”

“But she’d want to help.”

“I’m not sure she can, Jake.”

I’ve never told him how big this shadowy conglomerate is. How scary. That it isn’t the type of thing that you can chase down and bring to justice, but rather a nameless, faceless threat, bigger and possibly more dangerous than anything I’ve faced before.

Instead of telling him now, I say, “In a few more days, I’ll no longer be the FBI’s problem.”