If they did, Thomas hoped she would come to him.
Chapter Four
Senator Lawrence Duncan had believed in surrounding himself with the finer things in life.
Noelle put her hands on her hips as she studied the senator’s closet. The massive closet was easily the size of her D.C. bedroom and living room and filled with designer clothing.
“He was ex-navy,” Thomas said. “This place sure is a long way from his life on the ship.”
She knew all about Lawrence Duncan’s background. He’d grown up poor in Camden, Alaska. He joined the navy when he was eighteen. He’d been an enlisted man for eight years, and when he’d gotten out of the service, the guy had seemed to skyrocket to power overnight. He’d come out of the military with some incredible connections, or else he’d obtained some very deadly secrets during his time in the service.
“He was married twice,” Noelle murmured as she studied the closet. Each item was perfectly in place. “Both women left him citing irreconcilable differences.” But she’d interviewed those ladies before coming to Camden. Fear had flashed in their eyes when they spoke of their husband.
Dominating. Controlling. Their voices had become whispers when they talked about the senator.
“He was sleeping with his assistant.” Thomas propped his shoulder against the bedroom wall.
“Her and plenty of other aides.” She turned away from the closet. She’d searched in there, twice, and found nothing of any real value. But...something had to be in the house. This place was Lawrence’s sanctuary. After he’d left the navy, he could have started over any place. But he’d returned to Camden. He’d torn down his old house and had this mansion built right in the same spot.
She and Thomas had already confiscated all of the senator’s computer equipment. An initial search of the material hadn’t shed any additional light on the attack in D.C.—or on the senator’s death—but they had specialists back at the EOD who’d tear that equipment apart. If there was intel to find there, they would.
She went toward the window on the left. Looking down, she saw the slumping roof of what looked like an old shed behind the main house. About fifty yards back, right at the tree line.
The shed made her curious. “He replaced everything else.” No, not just replaced. He’d destroyed everything else on that property. “Why not that shed? Why is it still out there?”
Before Thomas could answer her, Noelle turned and hurried from the room. Sheriff Hodges glanced up when she rushed down the stairs. His hand was on Paula’s shoulder, as if he’d been comforting the woman. Paula’s eyes were watering, and her nose was red.
“I should have heard him. I should have helped him!”
Noelle didn’t slow to help console the other woman. She figured Hodges had things covered. She made her way to the back of the house and threw open the rear door. The icy air hit her, seeming to chill straight to her bones.
Thomas was behind her. Not speaking but following closely. When they got to the old shed, she saw a big wooden board had been positioned to block the entrance. She grabbed for the board, but Thomas was there, and he heaved it aside.
She pushed open the shed’s door. But it really wasn’t so much a shed. It reminded her more of an old barn.
The roof was high, there was no floor, just what looked like dirt and straw and—
A trunk sat, half-hidden beneath some old blankets, positioned against the far back wall. Her steps quickened as she approached it.
“Why are we out here, Noelle?” Thomas asked her.
“Because I need to understand Lawrence. He came back here to this exact spot to start his new life, for a reason.” She dropped to her knees and pushed aside the blankets that covered the trunk. Then she saw the padlock. The trunk was old and weathered from time, but the padlock was shiny. New.
“If the senator had something valuable, he wouldn’t leave it out here.” Thomas’s words were clipped. “That’s probably just some kind of equipment in there he used on his land. He didn’t want it stolen so—”
She’d spotted a hammer hanging on a nearby shelf. Noelle grabbed it and started pounding at the lock.
“Noelle! Hell, wait, we can get the sheriff to—”
The lock broke. Noelle shoved it aside. She wasn’t even sure what she’d expected to find but—
Photographs.
There were dozens of photographs inside the trunk. The old, Polaroid type. The white edges surrounded the images.
Her fingers were shaking when she reached for the first one. The light from her flashlight bobbed as she tried to focus in on that photo.
A photo of a young girl, a teen, blindfolded, tied to a chair.