Keepers of the Cave Read online

  Keepers of the Cave

  Gerri Hill

  Bella Books (2012)

  * * *

  While the investigations go on in Dallas and Baton Rouge after the disappearance of a senator’s daughter, FBI agents CJ Johnston and Paige Riley are assigned to the sleepy backwoods of East Texas for a dead-end assignment to infiltrate an all-girls school.

  Random disappearances dating back fifty years and more raise red flags that point to the tiny, isolated community of Hoganville, but CJ and Paige fear there will be little distraction from the memories of their six-months ago one-night stand.

  Nevertheless, they integrate themselves into the lives of the teachers and staff, but soon the odd behavior of the townspeople has them convinced something sinister lurks there. Something, perhaps, that even the residents of Hoganville don’t know about.

  Six-time Goldie winner Gerri Hill delivers thrills and passion in the chilling Keepers of the Cave.

  Table of Contents

  About the Author

  Also by Gerri Hill

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  CHAPTER FORTY

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  Copyright © 2012 by Gerri Hill

  Bella Books, Inc.

  P.O. Box 10543

  Tallahassee, FL 32302

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Printed in the United States of America on acid-free paper

  First published 2012

  Editor: Medora McDougall

  Cover Designer: Linda Callaghan

  ISBN 13: 978-1-59493-301-1

  PUBLISHER’S NOTE

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  About the Author

  Gerri Hill has twenty-one published works, including the 2011 GCLS winner Devil’s Rock and 2009 GCLS winner Partners, the last book in the popular Hunter Series, as well as 2012 Lambda finalist Storms. She began writing lesbian romance as a way to pass the time while snowed in one winter in the mountains of Colorado. Her first published work came in 2000 with One Summer Night. Hill’s love of nature and of being outdoors usually makes its way into her stories as her characters often find themselves in beautiful natural settings. Gerri and her longtime partner, Diane, live in the East Texas woods with two Australian Shepherds and an assortment of furry felines. For more, see her website: www.gerrihill.com.

  Also by Gerri Hill

  Artist’s Dream

  Behind The Pine Curtain

  The Cottage

  Coyote Sky

  Dawn Of Change

  Devil’s Rock

  Gulf Breeze

  Hell’s Highway

  Hunter’s Way

  In The Name Of The Father

  The Killing Room

  Love Waits

  No Strings

  One Summer Night

  Partners

  Rainbow Cedar, The

  Sierra City

  Scorpion, The

  Storms

  Target, The

  CHAPTER ONE

  It was eerily quiet in the room, only the constant drip, drip, drip of the coffee machine disrupted the silence. At this early hour, even the other teams were absent. DeMarcus Freeman, known to everyone as Ice, stared at the empty desks for a moment, then glanced at the large clock on the wall. They would be in soon. He knew their routine better than his own, especially after closing out a case like the one they’d just wrapped up. Eight missing boys. Yeah, they found them. Found them all. Dead. The bastard had been using them for sex toys, the longest for two months. The newest one, just two days. All dead. And Ice knew exactly how his team would handle it.

  His partner, Constance Jean Johnston, would go out alone to a popular lesbian bar and, after a multitude of tequila shots, would pick up a woman whose name she wouldn’t remember this morning. CJ would follow the woman home, fuck her brains out, then leave before the woman woke up. No name, no phone number. That’s how CJ handled things.

  Billy Calhoun, whose own young son was the same age as most of these boys, would go to his ex-wife’s house, where, for some crazy reason, she still had sex with him. Maybe she’d been around long enough to know how these cases affected him, even though on a normal day they fought like cats and dogs.

  Billy’s partner, Paige Riley, would always go home alone and drink a whole bottle of wine—sometimes two, according to Billy—while soaking in a bubble bath. Ice let his mind wander to the beautiful blond agent, picturing her up to her neck in bubbles, a hand lazily holding a wineglass over the side. He pushed it away, knowing Billy would have his ass for the thought. Billy had his own crush on her, although he would deny it to his dying day.

  He sighed and made his way to the coffee, even though he knew the routine. On a normal day, after a normal case, Paige would be the first to arrive. Always. She was annoyingly punctual, never late. Billy would hurry in next, still chewing whatever he’d picked up for breakfast that morning. Then CJ would drag in, her hair still wet, evidence that she’d only gotten up in time for a quick shower, no coffee or breakfast. CJ was habitually late. Always. But that was on a normal day.

  Today, since it wasn’t a normal day, CJ would arrive first, reeking of sex and tequila, wearing the same clothes as yesterday. She would grunt a hello at him, then sink into her chair. He would hand her a cup of coffee, which she would complain about. Billy would pop in next, his eyes red and puffy from lack of sleep. His ex-wife, to hear Billy tell it, was a sex machine. Paige would be the last to arrive. She always brought Starbucks coffee and a breakfast treat for them. Sometimes ham and cheese croissants, sometimes tacos from a local Mexican bar, sometimes only McDonald’s, but she always brought breakfast. And she would watch them, looking to see if they had recovered, her eyes undoubtedly landing on CJ with a slightly disapproving loo
k. He often wondered if that was why she intentionally arrived late—so she wouldn’t have to witness CJ walking in looking like shit.

  He didn’t understand their relationship, really. When the four of them went out for beers, they would flirt shamelessly with each other. Well, CJ would flirt, as was her nature. Paige took it, giving back just as well. But they always left separately and as far as he knew, they never did anything with each other outside of the four of them. He wasn’t certain he would even call them friends.

  He sat back down again, rubbing his newly shaved head, wondering if CJ would even notice.

  ***

  CJ squinted in the bright sunlight, her dark glasses doing little to temper the glare. She ran her tongue over her teeth, her mouth dry and still tasting of tequila . . . and sex. She groaned, wincing at the pounding in her head as she ducked inside the building. The woman had been a blonde. Recently, they all had been blonde. She couldn’t remember the woman’s name to save her life.

  She sighed tiredly as the elevator opened. She walked into the room, sunglasses still covering her eyes. Their set of desks was separated from the other FBI teams by rows of filing cabinets, and she saw Ice sitting at his, as expected. He was the last to leave and the first to arrive. She sometimes wondered if he went home at all. She ignored the glance he gave her and pulled out her chair with her foot, sinking down slowly, keeping her head still.

  “Yeah, thanks,” she murmured as he handed her a cup of coffee. She took a sip, grimacing at the taste. “Damn, Ice, this tastes like shit. When are you going to learn to make a decent cup of coffee?”

  “Feel free to give it a try.” he said

  She blinked several times, focusing on his head. “What the hell happened to you?”

  “Felt like a change,” he said as he rubbed his shaved head.

  “Huh. You don’t say.”

  She laid her head down on the desk, sunglasses smashing uncomfortably against her ear, waiting for his question.

  “What was her name?”

  She gave her usual answer. “Hell if I know.” She kept her eyes closed, hearing the elevator doors open, knowing it was Billy. His aftershave arrived long before he did.

  “Jesus, CJ, aren’t those the same clothes you had on yesterday?”

  “Bite me,” she murmured, eyes still closed.

  “You wish.”

  “Shut up.”

  She sighed again, vowing—for at least the hundredth time—to stop these all-nighters with strangers. But it was the only way she could completely chase the horrors of the job from her mind. Well, not the only way, she mused, as she remembered the one night Paige Riley had shared her bed. She groaned quietly, not wanting to think of that right now. She never brought women to her own bed. It was a rule she never broke. Never. It was easier that way. No names, no phones, no addresses. But she had broken all the rules that night. Only she hadn’t been the one slinking out of someone’s bed and escaping into the early morning darkness. She was surprised at how much it stung when she woke to find Paige already gone.

  “Jesus, Ice, what happened to the Afro we’ve grown to love?”

  “Come on, man, that wasn’t a ’fro.”

  ***

  Paige knew what she would find even before the elevator doors opened. Ice would be leaning back in his chair, watching CJ with annoyed—yet concerned—eyes as he tossed wadded up pieces of paper into the trash can. Billy would be reading the news online, his chin resting in his palm as he tried to stifle a yawn. He wasn’t really reading the daily paper, she knew. He was reliving the night spent with his ex. And CJ would have her head down on her desk, eyes closed. If it were a really bad morning, she’d still have her sunglasses on.

  She paused before getting off the elevator, her glance going quickly around the room. She silently acknowledged that her assumptions were right on. Taking a deep breath, she moved forward, smiling at Ice before handing him a coffee.

  “Nice head,” she said with a smirk.

  Billy reached for his coffee before she could offer, then eyed the bag she held.

  “Sausage and egg wraps,” she said, handing him one.

  “You’re the best. Thanks.”

  She tossed one to Ice, then walked over to CJ, who had yet to raise her head. She placed the coffee and breakfast down beside her, slowly shaking her head.

  “You really, really need a shower, CJ,” she said quietly.

  “I know,” she mumbled.

  Paige shook her head again, wondering why CJ put herself through this. Couldn’t she be satisfied with a night alone? Perhaps a bottle of wine, maybe a hot soak in bubbles? Did she always have to chase the images away with sex? She allowed herself a brief glimpse into the past, a night where she had been the one CJ had turned to. Against her better judgment, Paige had given in to her desires, a mistake brought on by CJ’s incessant flirting, too many tequila shots, and her own need to escape the job for a few hours. Even though she had regretted her decision the next morning, it was still a night she wasn’t able to forget.

  ***

  Billy watched his partner watch CJ. He glanced at Ice with raised eyebrows as Paige shook her head for the third time before taking a seat at her own neat desk. Billy ate his breakfast wrap in silence, as did the others. Finally, CJ stood—albeit slowly—and grabbed her coffee and wrap. She stared at Paige.

  “Grabbing a shower,” she said as she sauntered off.

  “Good. Why don’t you take two?” Paige called, scooting the chair away from her desk and heading in the opposite direction of CJ.

  “Damn. What’s with them anyway?” he asked.

  Ice wadded up his breakfast wrap and tossed a perfect shot into the trash can. “I don’t know. They’ve been acting strange for the last several months.”

  Billy leaned forward, his voice low. “You don’t think...you know.”

  “No, man. Come on,” Ice said. “Paige is Paige. She’s perfect. And CJ...well, you know I love her, but she’s got some issues.”

  Billy snorted. “Issues? Is that what you call it?”

  “Cut her some slack, man. You know how she grew up.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Billy leaned back again with a sigh. Yeah, they all knew how CJ’s old man used her as a punching bag when she was a kid. CJ grew up just this side of trailer park trash in a bad part of Houston, and even though she’d put that behind her, they all knew she carried it around like a chip on her shoulder. She was gorgeous as hell and could have her pick of women. But she was not beautiful in the classy, clean way Paige was. No, CJ was rough-and-tumble, her dark hair cut short in different lengths, always looking a little on the messy side. But even he would admit it was a sexy look, with just enough hanging over those big brown eyes to make you want to just reach out and brush it away.

  He shook himself. Damn. That was CJ. What in the hell was he thinking?

  CHAPTER TWO

  “Gather round, people.”

  CJ brushed the hair out of her eyes, wondering what Howley had for them this time. The Special Agent-in-Charge had given them two days off after wrapping up the missing boy case, as they’d ended up calling it. She hated when the victims were kids, hated it more when sexual abuse was involved. It brought way too many of her own demons to the surface. Obviously, she wasn’t very good at handling them. But two days off were good. One night of drunken sex with a stranger, then last night, a blissful sleep in her own bed. She felt human again this morning.

  She followed the others into the conference room, choosing her normal seat between Paige and Ice. Paige was speaking to her again. That was a plus. She hated the tension between them and she suspected Paige hated it as well. But it was what they did. When CJ pulled one of her all-night stunts like she had the other night, she knew it would take a couple of days for them to get back to normal. She glanced at Paige now, pleased to see that the disapproving look in her eyes was gone, the disapproving look that sometimes bordered on disappointed. That look cut deep. She smiled hesitantly, getting a slight one in
return.

  “Got a rather interesting assignment,” Howley said. “Get comfortable. This will take a while.”

  The large monitor on the near wall came to life and what appeared to be an aerial view of a small community popped up. A smattering of buildings was nearly swallowed by a forest of tall trees. He slid a file folder to each of them.

  “We’re calling it Hoganville Complex,” he said. “Population estimated at fifty, give or take. I say estimated because this isn’t a town. It isn’t even an unincorporated community. By the way, Hoganville is the informal name only. It’s not an actual named town.” He pulled up a map on the monitor next. “It’s located between the Angelina National Forest and the Sabine National Forest in far East Texas. Lake Sam Rayburn is here,” he said, pointing, “and the Louisiana border is here, in the middle of Toledo Bend Lake.”

  “Disappearances?” Billy asked as he scanned the first page of the folder.

  “Lots of them,” Howley said. “Let’s get some background. This investigation was originally started eight months ago. Senator Trumbley from Dallas has a stake in this. His daughter has been missing for nine months now. College student. She was driving from New Orleans back to Dallas last October. Alone. The last communication he had from her was here,” he said, pointing to the map, “in Leesville, Louisiana.”

  “Looks like it’s far from a major highway,” CJ said. “Is it a case of the GPS leading her astray?”

  He shrugged. “Who knows? Car was found here in Deridder,” he said. “Clean.”

  “If the last communication was from Leesville, why is Hoganville in question?” Paige asked.

  “Hoganville is one of three investigations. One team is concentrating efforts in Baton Rouge and Louisiana State University, which on the surface, appears to be the logical location. Another is going over the senator’s comings and goings in both Dallas and Washington, trying to determine if it’s politically motivated or not. Hoganville is an afterthought, I believe, mainly because of the weirdness of it.”