Her mouth went dry. “There’s a drug cartel here?”
“Possibly.” Tyler sank down on the dining room chair. “I’m working with IBETs—Integrated Border Enforcement Teams—we’ve been investigating rumors of drugs crossing the US–Canadian border for months. Two weeks ago Seth reached out to me and my team.”
Pride filled Heather. She could only imagine how scary it had been for Seth to seek help. Going up against a drug cartel was no small feat.
“Apparently last year he’d needed some extra cash,” Tyler continued. “He had allowed a shipment of cocaine to hitch a ride into Canada with a shipment of trees from your farm. He’d thought it was a onetime deal. But when they came back to him this year, he realized he’d gotten in over his head.”
Heather silently groaned. One step forward, two steps back. Seth had always courted trouble with his decision making.
“We—” Tyler grimaced “—I convinced him to find out as much as he could and keep a record of everything he learned, including who, what, where and when.”
Stunned, Heather rocked back on her heels. “Let me get this straight. My brother came to you with information about an illegal drug operation on our farm and you—” A cold sweat broke out on her skin. “He was spying for you?”
A grim expression stole over Tyler’s face. “Yes.”
Heather backed away. Her mind scrambled to make sense of what she was hearing. It was one thing for Seth to be a whistle-blower and another entirely for him to play the role of spy. “That was a dangerous thing for you to ask of him.”
“Yes, it was.”
She stilled as a thought burned through her brain. Her blood turned to ice. “He didn’t die of an accidental overdose. Someone killed him.”
“That’s what I believe.”
“He’s dead because of you!”
Tyler closed his eyes. When he opened them, the bleakness in his gaze confirmed her accusation. “Yes.”
Tyler held Heather’s gaze with what he hoped was dispassion and not the swirling maelstrom of guilt laying siege to his psyche. He wouldn’t shirk the responsibility of Seth Larson’s murder.
Despite Seth’s past addictions, Tyler had sensed his sincere need to get out from under the thumb of the drug cartel. Though Tyler may not have injected Seth with the lethal dose of cocaine, he felt responsible. Tyler had no doubt that someone had found out that Seth was keeping an account of the illegal activities going on at the Larson family Christmas tree farm. And that someone then killed Seth. He gritted his teeth against the throbbing in his head.
Heather stared at him with wide eyes full of flashing anger. “How could you let this happen?”
It was a valid question. One he’d been asking himself for the past five days. One his superiors were asking, as well. “Your brother initially wanted us to raid the farm, but we didn’t know who we were looking for and where the drugs were stashed. And Seth claimed he hadn’t been privy to how the smuggling took place. At least at first. A raid too soon would have only shut down the operation here, not stopped the flow. We needed evidence. We needed facts. Still do. Seth began to gather intel and had thought he had enough to shut the ring down, but then he was killed.”
Her eyes widened even more. “You really do believe he was murdered?”
“I do. Whatever information he had cost him his life.” And now it put Seth’s sister and nephew in danger. They weren’t supposed to be here. Seth had said they lived in Washington State. And now, per Tyler’s boss’s mandate, Tyler and his team were to make sure the widow and her son were protected.
She shook her head. “No, you cost him his life. You pushed him to do something he wasn’t trained to do.”
The sharp tip of her barb hit him squarely in the gut. “A fact I will have to live with,” Tyler stated with more regret than she could possibly know. This wasn’t the first time an informant had lost his life. “But Seth got himself into this mess. Seth came to us. He knew the risks. Believe me—I wish I had done things differently.”
If he could go back, he’d have extracted Seth a week ago. But Tyler had wanted more information. He’d wanted to cut off the head of the ring, not just pull in a few low-level minions. So he’d pushed Seth to keep up the pretense of going along with the drug-smuggling scheme until he knew the identity of the mastermind behind the illegal operation.
Tyler had been doing his job. A job that wasn’t finished. “If I am going to bring his murderers to justice, I need to find the notebook he told me he had.”
“That’s why you broke into the house.”
“I didn’t break in. As I said, Seth gave me a key. He’d said if anything happened to him that I’d find what I needed here at the farm. I didn’t mean to scare you. I had thought you and your son lived in Washington and would have returned there after Seth’s burial. Otherwise I would have arranged to meet you away from the farm.”
A contemplative expression crossed her face. “Ah. That’s why Seth offered to pay for our plane tickets to Florida for the upcoming holiday—so we wouldn’t come here.” A sad light entered her eyes. “My late husband’s parents live in a nursing facility there. Seth had insisted we should spend Thanksgiving with the Randalls. I declined Seth’s offer.” She gave a little shrug. “The Randalls barely know us, and we wouldn’t be able to stay with them. I didn’t want to spend the holiday in a motel.”
Her words resonated with him. He spent most holidays in motels or on stakeouts. It was a lonely way to celebrate.
“And now we’ll be spending the holiday here alone, without Seth.”
Guilt burned at her words. He had nothing to say to soothe her hurt.
Visibly pulling herself together, she asked crisply, “What does this notebook look like?”
“I wish I knew. All Seth had told me was to get the notebook if anything happened to him.” Tyler planted his feet beneath him and slowly rose. The world tilted. He swayed. He braced his feet wide, forcing back the dim shadows creeping in at the edges of his mind.
Heather rushed forward to steady him. “Take it easy. You probably have a concussion. You should go to urgent care. You might need stitches.”
“I’m not going anywhere until I find what I came for.” But he would lean on her for the moment, to keep from embarrassing himself again by falling flat on his face a second time. “You know how to handle a frying pan.”
“If I’d had Ken’s service weapon handy, I’d have used that,” she retorted drily. “But it’s locked in a safety deposit box at the bank in town.”
He slanted her a glance. “What were you thinking to begin with? You shouldn’t have confronted an intruder. You could have been seriously wounded or killed.”
From the background search he’d done on Seth and his family, Tyler knew Heather’s husband had been killed in action and they had a young child, who he assumed was upstairs at this very minute unaware of the danger that could have befallen his mother.
She paled and squared her shoulders. “I had to protect my child. My husband taught me how to take care of myself. I know how to shoot a gun. I know enough self-defense to break a stranglehold. And, as you said, I know how to wield a frying pan.”
He couldn’t help the little burst of admiration for the gutsy lady.
Slowly she extracted herself from his side. She moved away when it became