Page 53 of Max's Mission

Straining to hear, Max leaned closer, but all he could hear was a muffled male voice.

“Oh, I see. I’m sorry to hear that. Mr. Conroy, my name is Agent Jeremiah Dye. I’m with the FBI. We have reason to believe your parents’ farm is connected to a case we’re working on. Now, I know your mother passed away several years ago, correct?”

Max heard the man utter a single syllable. It sounded like he said yes.

“And you said you haven’t had any contact with your dad since then. He’s not here, and we’re concerned about his well-being. The property is extremely rundown. Would you give us permission to conduct a welfare check and go inside the house and other buildings on the property?”

Max fought the urge to tap his foot while he waited on Dye to finish his conversation. The agent could have had the courtesy to put the call on speaker.

“Thank you. Would you like me to let you know if we find him?”

Dye’s eyebrows shot up, and he shook his head. “All right. I guess if you hear from me again, you’ll know. Thank you for your time. Have a nice evening.” He hung up.

“Well?” Max arched a brow.

“Mr. Conroy and his father are not on good terms. He told me they haven’t spoken since his mother died and that the only way he wants me to call him back is if it’s to tell him the old man’s dead.”

Max let out a low whistle.

“Damn,” the sergeant said. “That’s cold.”

“I’m sure he has his reasons. In any case, he gave us permission to conduct a welfare check. I’ll keep the warrant coming, but this might at least give us a place to start. Let’s go round up a few of your deputies. No pictures, though. Not unless we find another body. Anything else will have to wait until my warrant comes through.”

“Understood. I’ll go grab a few men and meet you at the back door.”

“Thank you.”

With a nod, the sergeant sauntered away.

Dye turned to Max. “I’m sorry. I can’t invite you inside until we have the warrant, and the forensics team has a chance to conduct their investigation.”

“I figured. All I ask is that you tell us if you see anything suspicious.”

“I can do that.” Dye backed away. “Hang here. I’ll be back.” Turning, he strode toward the house.

Max blew out a breath and scrubbed his hands over his face and then through his hair. “This is nuts.”

A mirthless laugh escaped Margot’s lips. “Tell me about it. I thought I knew Tad. None of this—including the way he left me—feels like anything he would do.”

“Maybe whoever that is out there”—he nodded toward the shed—“will give us a clue as to why he did what he did.” Extending an arm, he tugged her closer to envelop her in a hug.

“I hope so,” she murmured against his chest, her head snuggled under his chin. “I’m tired of all the drama.”

“Me too.” He placed a soft kiss on top of her head. Deep down, he yearned to be back in Costa Rica, this woman tucked into his side while they watched Em and Lily play in the sunshine. He just wanted all this to be a distant memory.

Thirty minutes passed while they waited on the police to coordinate with each other and walk through the house. When they emerged from behind the building, the scowl on Agent Dye’s face put Max’s senses on alert.

He nudged Margot, who now rested next to him against the cruiser. “They found something.”

“What?”

He didn’t need to look at her to hear the frown in her voice.

“How do you know?”

“Dye’s face. That look says it all.” He took her hand. “Come on.”

They met the agent in a pool of light under the saltpeter lights the crime scene unit set up.

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