Page 121 of Noel Secrets
Malone lifted a brow. “Might not need to. The supply company confirmed all their delivery vans were accounted for. So we ran the VIN on the one used in the abduction.”
Clay straightened, sensing they’d found something. “And?”
“Someone rented it two days ago—from a car-rental place in Sheraton. You’ll never guess who.”
A knot tightened in Clay’s gut. “Not Brent Foster?”
Malone nodded grimly. “Yep. It gets better. Morton and Winters worked at his car dealership. Been on his payroll for over a year.”
Clay stared at the sheriff, blinking once—twice—as his brain refused to process the words. Then he let out a short, disbelieving laugh that carried no humor. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said, voice low and sharp. “Fosterrentedthe van? In his own name? What was he thinking? That no one would check? That we’d overlook the literal paper trail? He might as well have handed us a signed confession and a selfie along with the keys.”
“It’s been my experience that most criminals aren’t master-minds, but this …” The sheriff ran a hand over his neck and sighed. “This takes this cake for sure. I’ll have a deputy bring him in for questioning.”
“I want to be in the room.” This might be over quicker than he’d expected.
The sheriff shook his head. “Bad idea. If you're going undercover as her boyfriend, he can’t know who you are. He sees you now, it blows the whole thing.”
Clay bristled at being shut out. “If he’s the guy, I might not need to keep protecting her.”
“Maybe. But we’re not there yet. We have a connection, but it’s not enough to prove he set this up. We still have work to do.”
Clay didn’t like sitting on the sidelines, but Malone had a point. Staying close to Darby, undercover, gave them an edge. Finally, he agreed. “While you work Foster, I’ll start looking into the others on her list. The uncle who’s trying to grab her inheritance—he stands out. That kind of greed doesn’t vanish overnight.”
“And the others on the list?”
“One’s a former employee—fired for theft. Plenty of motive, but I doubt she’s got the resources for a hit. The other’s acranky neighbor who hates noise. Unless she’s a secret criminal mastermind, I’m not too worried.”
Malone gave a short laugh. “Still worth checking out.”
“I’ll get Cooper running background checks on all of them. And I’ll contact Sheraton PD to request extra patrols around Darby’s house.”
At that, the sheriff’s expression shifted. He stood and quietly closed the office door. “Hold off on that.”
Clay narrowed his eyes. “Why?”
“I don’t want to make accusations, but I don’t trust the police chief in Sheraton. Guy’s dirty. Nothing I can pin on him—yet—but he’s not clean.”
Clay remembered Darby’s own suspicions about him. Not good. But suspicions were all they were so far. “You expect me to operate in his jurisdiction without letting him know?”
“You crossed state lines. That makes it federal. You’re not required to involve him.”
That kind of working around the law made Clay uneasy. “Technically, no. But the abduction happened in his city. And Sheraton’s a small town. He’ll surely hear about it.”
Malone sighed then conceded. “Yeah, he will. Fine, I’ll make the call myself. But I want you to know—I don’t trust him. Not saying he’s involved in this situation, but if there’s a bad apple in this mess, he’s a darn good candidate.”
“Understood.” He would do his best to give the chief a wide berth. Clay stood and shook the sheriff’s hand. “I’ll keep you updated.”
As he walked back toward the conference room, his mind raced. He had no proof the chief was involved—but if Malone waved a red flag, Clay would pay attention. He fired off a text to Cooper:
Run a deep check on Brent Foster and the Sheraton police chief. Something’s off.
He tucked away his phone and braced himself before opening the conference room door. Time to take Darby home—and step fully into the role of the man pretending to love her.
Chapter Four
Climbing into the gray pickup after all that had happened seemed surreal to Darby. The seats and console were a little worn, but the inside of the truck looked neat and tidy. This appealed to her, the neatness helping to soothe her frayed nerves. Agent Walker held her door then shut it behind her and circled the truck, sliding into the driver’s seat.
On the highway back to Sheraton, he finally spoke. “If this charade is going to work, we should probably know a few things about one another.”
