Читать книгу Colton's Deadly Engagement - Addison Fox - Страница 11
ОглавлениеFinn poured himself another cup of precinct coffee, well aware the caffeine wasn’t going to do any favors for the slick knot that still twisted his gut. His interview with Darby Gage hadn’t gone well and after securing her unprovable alibi for Hayden’s murder—an evening in with Penny—he’d left her in a fine pique.
Although he’d been hoping for confirmation that she’d been out with girlfriends or even on a date, her pronouncement that she’d spent the cold winter night in with her obstinate new roommate hadn’t gotten him any nearer to removing Darby Gage from his suspect list.
He headed back to his desk from the small kitchenette the RRPD secretary, Lorelei Wong, maintained with the same ruthless efficiency with which she manned the front entrance. He’d deliberately used the single-cup brewer instead of making a pot so she wouldn’t come in Monday morning and razz him for making a mess. She’d probably still find an infraction, but at least he wouldn’t risk leaving a coffeemaker full of coffee grounds or stale coffee gone cold in the pot.
The case bothered him. He knew himself well enough to know that not only would it require his full concentration, but that that same concentration would likely reduce a few brain cells for the next few days.
Who was killing grooms-to-be in his town?
What makes people do such horrible things?
Darby’s question haunted him, nagging at the back of his sleep-deprived mind. After his visit to Bo Gage’s old residence, he’d headed back to the Circle T to review the latest crime scene with fresh eyes. The visit hadn’t turned up much, other than the fact that the town was shaken. The restaurant had reported that nearly all their Saturday night reservations had been canceled before the owner was even able to make the calls that they would be closed that evening.
But it was the comments the proprietor, Gus Hanley, had fielded from those canceling guests that had Finn concerned.
“If someone’s killing men who are about to get married, can I risk even going out on a date?”
“Big-city crime has come to Red Ridge. Maybe I need to try staying in for a while.”
“Should we reconsider our spring wedding?”
Along with the canceled reservations, Gus had lost two events for early March—one for an engagement party and one for a rehearsal dinner.
No doubt about it, Red Ridge was in a panic. As a lifelong resident, Finn found that sad. As chief of police—it was unbearable. He’d become a cop because he’d wanted to make a difference. The fact that he was good at it was an added bonus that kept him focused, determined and dedicated. The added added bonus of working with Lotte had sealed the deal.
He hadn’t always been a K-9 cop. His first few years on the force had been focused on learning the ropes and endless hours of traffic detail. But he’d showed promise and the old chief, Clancy Macintyre, had taken him under his wing. Chief Macintyre had been a good influence, balancing his innate ability to teach with the patience and care Finn’s own father had never exhibited.
Judson Colton was a rancher and a damn fine one. But he’d never understood his oldest son, a quiet kid with an unerring eye for detail. That had always been true and, whether by choice or by habit, he and his father maintained a respectful distance. His father’s second wife, Joanelle, had made that even easier to accomplish with her cold ways and dismissal of Judson’s first child as a burden she was forced to carry.
But there was one thing ranch life had taught Finn and that was his love of animals. His opportunity to move in to the K-9 unit and work with a trained canine partner had taken his love of police work and made it his life’s calling.
He was good at his job and he was good to the men and women who worked for him. They all kept Red Ridge safe and took pride in their role as protectors. And someone had come to their town and violated all they’d built.
Suddenly tired of it all, including the need to question petite women with silky hair and what read as determined—but innocent—eyes, Finn headed for his desk. The case weighed on him and he’d be no good to anyone if he didn’t clear his head. It was time to wrap up the little paperwork he’d come in for, get his notes on the interview with Darby logged in and head home. Maybe he’d make a steak and a baked potato, the hearty meal a way to relax and recharge.
And then he’d eat it alone.
That thought hit harder than all the others that had bombarded him throughout the day.
He’d been alone since his divorce and had believed himself okay with it. He’d had dates from time to time. Had even progressed to something more like a relationship a few years back with a sweet teacher down in Black Hills City. But, ultimately, things hadn’t worked out. She’d had visions of the future and in the end he simply couldn’t get his head on the same page.
So why was he now imagining enjoying his steak and potato with a companion?
One who looked suspiciously like Darby Gage.
The squad room was quiet. His cousin Brayden, another K-9 cop on the team, was tapping away at his keyboard. He was nodding his head to whatever music pumped through his ears—classic rock, if Finn knew his cousin—but he did holler a “yo” as Finn passed.
Finn briefly toyed with inviting Brayden to join him for dinner, but for some reason the thought of sharing a steak and a beer with his cousin—whom he liked quite a bit—didn’t entice the same way as images of dining with Darby.
Since his latest set of notes wouldn’t write itself, Finn opted to ignore thoughts of dinner altogether as he sat down. His desk held what he considered a comfortable amount of clutter: stacks of files, a handful of notes, and a series of sticky notes that littered the top of his desk and the edges of his computer monitor. Shifting a stack of folders farther to the edge, he knocked over a dark box, the square packaging making a heavy thud as it hit the floor.
Finn bent to pick it up, quite sure the box hadn’t been on his desk the night before. There was a small square card taped to the top and he flipped it open.
“‘Chocolates for a cop with a big heart.’” The note was signed “an appreciative citizen” and had small hearts dotting the i’s in “citizen.”
He wanted to think it was sweet—this wasn’t the first anonymous gift he’d received over the past few weeks—but it was beginning to get out of hand. Red Ridge was a small town and he appreciated the proprietary way the citizens treated their local law enforcement. The holidays typically brought a steady stream of cookies and cakes for the staff and homemade treats for the canine members of the team. Summer often brought picnic baskets of fried chicken and endless vats of lemonade.
In all of those cases, the townsfolk enjoyed bringing in the gifts and thanking the staff in person. What Finn couldn’t quite reconcile with the recent spate of gifts directed at him was why the giver felt the need to be anonymous.
Going with his gut, he dropped the chocolate into the trash can under his desk and went back to his report.
There really was no accounting for the wacky things people did. And since he had a killer to catch, he hardly had the time to worry about someone too shy to come in to the precinct to say hello.
* * *
Darby stared at her checkbook and tried desperately not to think about the debt that loomed once she got through the month of February.
“Welcome to Monday,” she muttered to herself, well aware she’d have the same problem on a Tuesday, a Wednesday or any other day of the week. There simply wasn’t any more money. And the vet’s visit the day before—a courtesy visit he’d called it—had proved conclusively she couldn’t breed Penny again. The risk to Penny’s health was too great to support another litter, especially coming on the heels of the litter she’d had the previous fall.
He’d mentioned a sweet German shepherd he’d taken care of in a nearby town—one ready for breeding and whose owner would sell for a fair price assuming she could keep one of the litter as part of the arrangement. But Darby knew it was hopeless. She barely had enough to take care of herself and Penny. There was no way she could afford a new dog right now.
The breeding program would have to wait until she got back on her feet. A few more months of her regular jobs—waitressing at the diner and helping out at the K-9 training center—and she’d reassess. That was assuming the taxes on Bo’s property didn’t put her underwater before she could earn what she needed.
On a hard sigh, she slammed the checkbook cover closed and shoved it, along with several open bills, across the kitchen table. She’d worry about it later. The problem wasn’t going anywhere and she had one more room to clean before she’d finally feel like she’d officially moved in to her own home.
When had Bo become such a slob?
While she hadn’t lied to Chief Colton the other day—that she was pleased to be out of her marriage—Bo hadn’t been a terrible guy. They weren’t compatible in the least and once she’d gotten past the fact that she’d fallen in love with an image instead of an actual person, it had become far easier for her to assess her marriage through objective eyes.
Even his roving nature—undoubtedly the worst aspect of their relationship—had an odd sense of immaturity wrapped up in it. If Bo wanted something, he went after it. Like a child unable to leave a sweet on the counter or Penny snatching something from the trash. The item was taken because it was there.
Bo was the same with women.
What he hadn’t been, if memory served, was a piggish man with a dirty home. Granted, he’d been a bachelor before she’d moved in the first time, and had spent more time out of the house than in, but she hadn’t remembered the dirt.
Or maybe she’d simply had the blind gaze of a newlywed, determined to create a new life.
She crossed to the counter and picked up her scrub brush, soap and a large container of bleach. She’d nearly gone through the entire thing over the past week, scrubbing down anything and everything she could find. The small second bathroom at the back of the house was her last hurdle to conquer. She could then at least take comfort that she laid her head down each evening in a clean home.
An hour later, with the last section of shower tile shining a gleaming white, a heavy pounding on the front door jarred Darby from her thoughts and the throbbing strains of pop music that played through her earbuds. The addition of Penny’s barking had her peeling off her rubber gloves and dropping everything into the tub to go see who was at the door.
“Penny!” The dog had her nose pressed to the floor in front of the door, a low growl emanating from deep in her throat.
The pounding kicked up again and without the earbuds Darby had no trouble making out who was knocking. The high-pitched screech gave it away even before Darby pulled aside the small panel curtain that hid the glass beside the door.
Hayley Patton.
“Darby Gage, you let me in!”
Although it had been a few years since she’d lived with Bo and Penny, Darby hadn’t forgotten her training skills or the way Bo had taught her to manage the dog. She used the required instructions to order Penny away from the door, satisfied when she took up her post a few feet back, blocking the small hallway entrance into the main living area of the house.
The uncontrolled barking was odd, but not unexpected. For all her skill with dogs as a trainer at the K-9 training center, Hayley had a worse relationship with Penny than Darby did. Whether there was something about the woman that disturbed Penny or just the pure knowledge that Hayley was a jerk, Darby didn’t know. But nothing changed the fact that the two of them did not get along.
She didn’t like another woman in her territory?
The conversation that had haunted her throughout the weekend popped up once more, the chief’s question ringing in her ears. Did Penny resent Hayley’s place in Bo’s life? Was that the root of her upset? Or was it possible there was something more?
Hayley had been playing the grieving fiancée to the hilt and while it pained Darby to think otherwise, was it possible the woman was responsible for Bo’s death? She knew it was beyond unkind—the woman had lost her fiancée the night before the wedding—but something about Hayley had always run false to her.
Yet thinking Hayley had a hand in Bo’s death seemed far-fetched. Especially now that there had been a second murder—one that had nothing to do with Hayley.
Dismissing the thought, Darby opened the door. Arm raised, Hayley had clearly been preparing to emit another round of pounding. The motion was enough to have her stumbling through the door on one high-heeled boot. Darby caught her, along with a whiff of heavy perfume and the knowledge that Bo had moved on to something bigger and better in the high, tight breasts that even now pressed against Darby’s chest.
“Let go of me!” Hayley twisted out of the hold and quickly regained her feet. Penny let out another low growl, only to be on the receiving end of a trademark Hayley Patton eye roll. “Enough already! You know me!”
Penny dropped her head on her paws, as if acknowledging the truth of Hayley’s statement, but kept her gaze firmly on her nemesis.
“What do you want, Hayley?”
“Nice welcome, Darb. You’ve gotten awful bossy since moving in to Bo’s house.”
“It’s my house now.”
“One you don’t deserve,” Hayley snapped.
Since the house was old and shabby and, up until the thorough cleaning had been as much of a physical mess as its meager finances, Darby toyed briefly with snapping a leash on Penny, tossing Hayley the keys and breezing right on out the door. Since that fantasy was easier than the reality of just walking out, Darby opted to play along to see what the woman wanted.
“Then maybe you and Bo should have talked about something important leading up to your wedding, like wills and finances.”
“How dare you bring up something so crass and cold? I loved my Bow-tie.”
Darby avoided making her mental eye roll a real one at the childish nickname and tried to summon up her cool. “I’m not suggesting you didn’t. But you obviously didn’t discuss your future if you’re mad at me.”
“I loved him and I thought he loved me. How did I even know he had a will? What twenty-nine-year-old has a will?”
A smart one, Darby thought. She’d made hers the moment she’d turned twenty-one and kept it in a lockbox with her other personal papers. “Well, Bo did.”
“It’s like tempting fate.” Hayley shivered before her big blue eyes widened so far it was practically comical. “Do you think that’s why he’s dead?”
“I doubt it.”
“Why not?”
“Bo’s dead because someone put a bullet in his heart. I don’t think a will had anything to do with it.”
The sneer Hayley had carried through the door faded at the harsh image Darby had painted. “I’m well aware of what happened to him.”
“Are you also aware, then, that Michael Hayden was killed on Friday night?”
“The police have already been by to question me about it.”
“They don’t think you did it, do they?”
“Chief Colton says he’s ruling out my involvement but I’m not so sure about that. He questioned me for a long time about Michael. Bo, too, on the night it happened.”
Although Darby wanted to bite her tongue at the ready defense, it sprang to her lips all the same. “He’s being thorough.”
“Well, he should be looking at the real killer.”
“You think you know who that is?” Darby didn’t think anyone beside Demi Colton had been formally announced as a suspect, especially since the chief had visited on Saturday asking questions. She’d also been head down in trying to fix her life, so it was equally possible things had progressed and she was unaware.
“His cousin, of course. Demi Colton had a thing for my Bow-tie and I know she’s the one who did it.”
She’d heard the rumors about Demi Colton—that she’d been jilted by Bo for Hayley after only a one-week engagement, and had put her work as a bounty hunter to good use to go after the fickle man. But somehow Darby couldn’t picture the woman as a murderess. Especially against Bo. She’d met Demi several times and the woman struck her as too smart, sharp and interesting to ever sacrifice her freedom over a man.
“I don’t see it.”
“Of course, you don’t. You’re too busy moving in to my house.”
“Legal documents say otherwise.”
“Which you’re clearly milking to your advantage.”
Patience at an end, Darby dropped the polite veneer. “What are you doing here?”
“I left a few things in Bow-tie’s closet.”
Darby had seen “Bow-tie’s” closet and didn’t recall anything that would have fit Hayley, but she gestured toward the bedroom. “Be my guest. I’ve packed up most of Bo’s things to go to charity and I didn’t see anything that looked overtly feminine, but have a go at it.”
“You packed up his things?”
For the first time since the other woman’s arrival Darby felt a shot of something. Not warmth, exactly, but something that smacked decidedly of compassion. “Well, sure. I’d rather see someone get use out of it.”
The moment shifted and the screeching began before Darby could even process what was happening. “His things are mine! You can’t have any of it!”
* * *
Finn heard the ruckus the moment he and Lotte got out of his police-issued SUV. The sound was a cross between a charging rhino and what he’d always imagined a “screaming banshee” actually sounded like. Since he already recognized Hayley Patton’s cherry-red sports car in the small dirt driveway, Finn had some sense of what he was walking into.
And while he didn’t anticipate violence, he did put his hand on his service weapon as he and Lotte approached the house.
When three heavy knocks and equally loud shouts for “Ms. Gage” went unaddressed, Finn opened the door and let himself inside. Penny sat at full alert, staring at the two women who currently faced off in the hallway leading to the living room.
“My Bow-tie!” Hayley kept wailing the words over and over, pointing toward the door and intermittently screaming about Darby’s cold heart, her grubby, grabbing hands and her temptress ways.
It didn’t take long to piece together the root of the battle, especially when Hayley thrust her hands into a large black garbage bag, pulled out men’s clothing and tossed it all over the small space.
Darby was calmer, but she didn’t take the screaming laying down, either. She’d begun picking up the clothes, hollering back that she had every right to clean her home and deal with her ex-husband’s old clothes.
“Ladies!”
Finn ordered Lotte to stay and moved forward, his focus on keeping the women apart and further separating Hayley from the bag of clothes.
“Miss Patton!” He pushed every ounce of authority into his tone and saw the moment when he finally got through. Hayley’s gaze flicked past his on another dive toward the bag and it was only when she was about to throw a pair of shorts that his presence seemed to register.
Finn took his chance, moving in and taking hold of the shorts to still her movements. “Miss Patton?”
On a gulp of air, she tugged once before seeming to give up on a hard exhale of breath. Her shoulders dropped and her hands fell to her sides before she rushed into his arms. “Chief Colton. I’m so glad you’re here.”
Her arms tightened around his waist and tears immediately wet his button-down shirt as Hayley basically wiped her cheeks over his chest. Hands now full of another man’s shorts, Finn tried a small “come now” as he patted her back. “It’ll be okay.”
Hayley only tightened her hold, the racking sobs growing harder as she shuddered against his body.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Darby said as she marched toward the pile of clothes. In moments she had pieces bunched in her hands and was shoving them into the depleted garbage bag. “This is ridiculous.”
Finn smiled at the muttered voice and had to agree. Hayley Patton had a reputation for making drama wherever she went. If the tableau playing out before his eyes was any indication, she’d brought a steaming-hot serving of drama to Darby Gage’s new home.
“What seems to be the problem, Ms. Gage?” He congratulated himself on changing his salutation at the last moment, suspecting that calling Darby “Mrs. Gage” in front of Hayley would send the woman into another round of fits.
“She seems upset by my desire to give Bo’s clothing to charity.”
“It’s so mean and cold,” Hayley said against his chest before lifting her head, her eyes narrowing. “And why would an innocent person rush to throw away the clothes of a dead man? She planned this.”
Finn’s attention sharpened and he took a firm hold on Hayley’s shoulders, pushing her an arm’s length away. “Excuse me? Do you have relevant information in the death of Bo Gage or Michael Hayden?”
Hayley gulped, as if realizing she’d possibly overstepped. “I’m not talking about Michael Hayden.”
“Then what are you talking about?”
“Her!” Hayley pointed to Darby, her expression murderous. “She’s getting rid of Bo’s clothes. What else has she gotten rid of?”
Although he wasn’t ready to rule out anything, the mix of heightened emotions and melodrama wasn’t something he could realistically take at face value.
“Why don’t we move this into the living room and everyone can calm down for a few moments.”
Without waiting for either woman’s agreement, Finn directed Hayley into the living room. He gave Darby a quick nod, as well. “If you’d join us, please.”
Darby reluctantly followed and waited, arms folded, as he settled Hayley on the couch. Lotte and Penny had remained in their places, but he could have sworn there was some silent communication going on between the two animals.
It took several long minutes for him to get to the bottom of the situation. After more rounds of tears, accusations and a moment when he thought things might come to blows, he finally had the details. And every last one of them centered on Hayley Patton resenting the hell out of the fact that her near-husband had left his home and his business to his ex-wife.
What wasn’t quite so easy to gather was why Darby seemed on the verge of saying something, only to clamp her jaws tight each and every time, holding back whatever she’d been tempted to say. It was suspicious. More than that, it smacked of a secret that he couldn’t understand.
Did she know something?
And why did her pretty blue gaze keep skipping around the room, landing at various points before settling on the dog and then racing around the room again?
After another tense fifteen minutes with Hayley persisting in her belief that she had some right to Bo’s belongings, Darby finally gave in.
“Would you just take the clothes already? I want them out of the house. Give them to charity when you’re ready.”
“I’ll never be ready to give up my Bow-tie’s things.”
Darby had remained stoic throughout the mix of sobbing tears and hard-edged rants, but something softened in her eyes when Hayley reached for the bag. Something that smacked quite a bit of compassion for the younger woman and all she’d lost.
On a hard cough, he excused himself from the couch and walked to the large bag that had been at the center of their tussle. “I can carry this out to the car for you, Miss Patton.”
Hayley got off the couch and followed him, her sobs fading away to be replaced with a surprising amount of venom. “You’re cold and heartless, Darby Gage. You stole a dead man’s home and now want to erase all trace of him. Bo was right to leave you.”
Whatever calm Finn had managed to inject into the room vanished at Hayley’s parting shot. The compassion now gone, Darby pointed to where he stood holding the large bag of clothes. Her voice carried the slightest quaver, but her hand was firm and steady.
“Take what you came for and get out of my house.”
