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Agent Beck tried to step into my personal space, but I nudged the shopping cart forward an inch and she stopped fast, flashed a self-conscious smile I didn’t believe for a second.
“You need to be careful so that the same thing that happened to your husband doesn’t happen to you.”
“Are you threatening me? Or is this harassment meant to get me to tell you something?”
She held her arms up in surrender and took a step back, wearing a smile that could best be described as Dirty Cop Number Two on any crime drama. “I didn’t mean any offense, Vanessa.”
“It’s Ms. Decker, Agent Beck. And I’m sure you meant to be plenty offensive which means this conversation is over.”
I pushed my cart forward to head for the produce department, but she stopped it with both hands. She said nothing, just stared at me. I pushed again to show her I wasn’t afraid, and she moved away.
“Take my card. You’ll need it.” She set the card on top of my purse and watched me carefully as I reached for the card, examined the details, and tossed it on the ground.
Agent Beck said, “Have a nice day,” turned on her heels and left the store.
I finished my shopping, but my carefree mood had vanished. That woman had gotten into my head and that pissed me off. She wasn’t trustworthy, I knew that. She had an ulterior motive or some personal beef against the Ashby family, that much was obvious.
But that didn’t mean she was a total liar. I knew quite a few priests had been killed over the past year. Lance described his shock to me late one night when he learned about a crooked priest involved with one of the Ashby’s business rivals. Now, as I reached for a package of peanut butter cookies and a family-sized bag of chips that I didn’t need, I wished I had paid more attention when he talked about his work with the Ashbys.
I didn’t ask Lance a lot of questions about his job, and he tried to shield me from the details. In fact, he always tried to shield me from the negative things in life, but I knew his job wasn’t strictly on the right side of the law. Lance worked at all hours, and I’d cleaned enough blood from his clothes to understand that, but I wondered if they were involved in those priest killings.
And why.
“No,” I said to myself, shaking my head for emphasis as I made my way to the checkout line. I unloaded my cart, going over my history with the Ashby family. They’d been good to me. Sadie, Kat, and Jasper had embraced me when all my so-called Navy friends had abandoned me, had stopped calling as if widowhood was contagious. Kat had become a friend and so had Maisie. They’d welcomed me into their circle when I found myself without one.
If they had broken the law or done something wrong, I was sure they had a good reason. That was what Lance had always said, and I believed him. As soon as I loaded my groceries in the trunk, looking over my shoulder to make sure I wasn’t being watched by anyone else, I slipped behind the wheel. I locked my doors, and once I was in the privacy of my car, I dialed Emmett and told him about my run-in with the FBI lady.
“She said the Ashby family was bad news, a family of criminals. You know all those stories about murdered priests? She almost flat-out accused them of killing them.”
Emmett was silent for a moment before a low sigh escaped. “The Ashby family is my family Vanessa. I trust them completely.”
That was the answer I expected, which meant I needed to be clear. “Okay, but are they really bad people?”
“No. They’re not bad people Nessa, you know them. Lance knew them, too.” His tone was calm, but there was an edge too.
“I know that. But the FBI has never chased me down before. What am I supposed think? Am I going to get in trouble with the feds or something?”
“Vanessa. You’re not going to get in trouble. If the FBI had any actual evidence, someone would be in jail. And, if this FBI agent had real evidence to back up her dishonest claims, she’d get a warrant rather than harassing and scaring you. She just trying to intimidate you.”
I felt properly chastised at his words. “Well, she succeeded. I’m sorry Emmett, but—”
“Don’t be sorry, it’s a fair question. I’m glad you called.” His voice softened and was almost apologetic. “The Ashby’s aren’t boy scouts by any means, but they are good people who take care of their own.”
“Including me,” I added, feeling like a traitor for even thinking they were bad people. “Thank you for setting me straight. Are we still on for tonight?”
