“What about the nanny?”
“Lieutenant Jones is convinced she’ll take good care of her daughter. That’s my hope, as well, but it seems more than a coincidence, as you mentioned, to have her show up on post the day Tammy Yates dies.”
“Natalie made a quick stop at her apartment in Freemont. Might be worth checking.” Everett provided the address.
“Will do. Don’t let her out of your sight. If Mrs. Yates’s death is a homicide, we have a killer on the loose. We don’t need anyone else hurt.”
Everett disconnected. So much for his two-week vacation. Right now, he had to keep tabs on the red sedan and find out where Natalie planned to hole up, so he could keep nanny and baby safe.
* * *
Natalie saw the tail just as she turned into the narrow dirt road that led to the fishing cabin. She cut the lights and pulled to a stop at the side of the small wooden structure.
Knowing Sofia would be safer in her car seat, Natalie let the baby sleep while she dashed inside. Everything was as Wanda had mentioned, including the hunting rifle in the closet. Natalie found the ammo and loaded the weapon, then retraced her steps and hid in the underbrush until the car turned onto the dirt path.
Her heart pounded. She hadn’t expected Mason to follow her. As the SUV drew closer, she crawled from the foliage, holding the rifle in her arms. The vehicle skidded to a stop.
“Get out, Mason,” she screamed, aiming the gun at the shadowed outline of the man behind the wheel.
The door opened and long legs stepped to the ground, followed by a muscular chest, square jaw and dark eyes that stared at her with a perturbed frown.
“Lower that weapon before you hurt someone,” he warned.
Not Mason.
Everett Kohl.
Did she need to fear him, as well?
* * *
Everett didn’t like being one-upped, especially by a woman who looked light as a feather and about as threatening. Except for the Winchester .30-30.
A good rifle for hunting deer, and not the type of weapon a criminal would carry. Although it could do serious damage if she decided to pull the trigger.
Even with the rifle, Everett was confident he could overpower her, but he wanted her to trust him. Allowing the nanny to think she was in control would be the best strategy to earn that trust, at least for now. Plus, he was packing a SIG Sauer under his jacket and a J-Frame Smith & Wesson strapped to his ankle. Hopefully, she didn’t realize special agents were always armed.
A baby’s cry cut through the darkness.
Seeing the concern on Natalie’s face, he stepped toward the car and peered at the baby in the rear. “Someone’s not happy.”
“She’s probably wet and hungry.” Natalie motioned to the cabin. “Head for the porch and don’t do anything stupid.”
He pointed to the rifle. “You wouldn’t use that, would you?”
She cocked her hip and tried to look defiant. “Don’t tempt me.”
“Shooting a law enforcement officer carries a stiff penalty that would end your hopes for a career in education, Ms. Frazier.”
“It’s Natalie, and I know what I’m doing.”
“If so, then—”
“Then why am I holding you at gunpoint?”
He nodded. “Exactly.”
“Because you followed me here, and I need to know why.”
“To insure your safety.”
“Wrong answer.”
“But truthful.” He titled his head. “Tell me why you’re frightened of Mason?”
“You won’t believe me.”
“If you have information about Mrs. Yates’s murder, why didn’t you tell me earlier?”
“I made a mistake.” Natalie’s bravado deflated. “I had two prank phone calls on the Joneses’ landline. I think they were from Mason.”
“What?”
“When I saw headlights, I thought he had followed me here.”
Pulling in a deep breath, Everett nodded. “You’ve got my attention. I’ll meet you on the porch. But watch that rifle. I wouldn’t want it to go off accidentally.”
“Don’t worry, Mr. Kohl. I’ve got everything under control.”
Everett would have laughed if the situation weren’t so dicey. “It’s Everett.”
Again, Sofia let out a bellow.
As he walked toward the cabin, he glanced over his shoulder. The nanny had placed the rifle on the ground to free her hands. She plucked Sofia from the backseat of her car and struggled to balance the baby and the diaper bag.
Natalie frowned when she looked up and found him staring at her.
He retraced his steps and held out his hands. “You’re exhausted and loaded down. How ’bout I take the diaper bag and baby. You keep the gun.”
Her brow lifted, but she didn’t object as he reached for Sofia and nestled the baby against his shoulder. With his free hand, he grabbed the diaper bag.
“I’ll meet you inside.” He hurriedly climbed the steps and entered the rustic cabin. A stacked-stone fireplace sat to the right. The kitchen and eating area were on the left. A couch and two easy chairs filled the center of the room. An open door revealed a bedroom in the rear, and a second, smaller room with a crib and changer, which was where he headed.
Everett felt a swell of gratitude for his sister, who had let him help when her two little ones were infants and her husband was away on business. He laid Sofia on the changer, and, in short order, the baby was in a dry diaper and back in his arms.
Sofia cooed with contentment. He laughed at the sounds that reminded him of his nieces, then turned to find Natalie standing in the doorway of the nursery wearing a perplexed look.
“Are you married with kids?” she asked.
He shook his head.
“Yet you know how to change diapers?”
“I’ve got two nieces, two years and eight months old. My sister said I was a quick study.”
“She’s right. I’m impressed.”
Sofia jammed her tiny fist in her mouth and made sucking sounds.
“The baby’s hungry.” Everett rummaged in the tote and found a bottle of formula.
“Excuse me.” He walked past Natalie into the main room where he settled into the couch.
“I’ll feed Sofia while we have that talk you wanted.” He glanced at the rifle she still held. “Can you park the weapon by the fireplace? Conversation flows better when I’m not staring at the end of a gun.”
She hesitated.
“You can trust me, Natalie.”
She shook her head and wrinkled her brow. “No, Everett, I can’t. I can’t trust anyone. Not you, not the other special agent who was with you tonight, and certainly not Mason Yates.”
“Maybe we should skip the niceties and get right to what you want to talk about.”
“I want to talk about a woman who fell down the stairs to her death in Germany the way Tammy Yates died tonight.”