Читать книгу Colton's Surprise Heir - Addison Fox - Страница 12
ОглавлениеLizzie smoothed the purse on her lap, a motion that was going to wear a hole in the leather if she didn’t stop. She’d thought to spend the day in her room in an attempt to give Ethan space as he tried to come to grips with the impending change she’d thrust upon his life. So it was more than a little surprising to wake up to a home-cooked breakfast, a hot cup of herbal tea and the announcement they were going to investigate her house.
“We really don’t need to do this.”
They’d nearly traversed the length of Blackthorn County, and she could see the familiar landmarks that made up the last two miles to her home.
“That’s the fourth time you’ve said that.”
“Have not.”
“Yes, you have. First you asked me if I had better things to do today. Then you suggested I might want to turn around and stay home to keep an eye on Dream. And about ten miles back you told me your house was a mess and you’re embarrassed to bring anyone into it.”
Okay, maybe she’d exaggerated about the house, Lizzie thought as she pictured the cleaning she’d done before she left. But she hadn’t got to the kitchen floors and that was an embarrassment. “I don’t want to put you out.”
“I get that. What I don’t understand is why you don’t want me to see your place.”
“You have seen my place.”
Flashes of the night they’d shared sprang to the forefront of her thoughts, vivid memories full of passion and heat. She’d invited him home after the rodeo, and Ethan had followed behind in his truck. She’d spent the entire drive convinced he’d take the gentlemanly way out and tell her he couldn’t come in after thinking it over. Yet she’d worried for nothing when they’d practically fallen out of their cars, barely making it across her small front yard to the door, their hands full of each other.
“Why don’t you want me to see your place today?”
The question pulled her from the haze of memories, and Lizzie swallowed hard around her suddenly dry throat. “It’s not that I don’t want you to see my place. You’re always welcome in my home.”
She fought the traitorous voice that whispered through her mind, taunting her with the truth. She did want Ethan to see her place. Often.
Forever.
Shaking it off, Lizzie ignored the temptation to hope and instead acknowledged the inevitable: he wasn’t turning the car around. She forced optimism into her tone and pasted on a small, determined smile. “I’m just sorry I’ve dragged you into this.”
Ethan’s gaze remained fixed on the road ahead, but it was impossible to miss the hard flex of his jaw or the sparks that lit up his gaze. “You have nothing to be sorry about. Someone’s been intent on scaring you. Worse, they’ve taken advantage of a terribly vulnerable time in your life. I’m here to help.”
“I know. And I thank you more than I can ever say.”
His jaw remained stiff, and Lizzie wasn’t sure if her gratitude irritated or frustrated. She felt both emotions and a host of others she hadn’t even figured out yet.
Although she hadn’t wanted to keep the baby a total secret from him, she knew Ethan’s feelings on children. After the initial shock of discovering her pregnancy, she’d consoled herself with the idea that she’d tell him after she’d adjusted to motherhood. She and the baby would get into a routine. Make a life together. And then she’d figure out a way to tell him.
Instead, some creepy jerk had forced her hand and put a very dark mark on that future.
She directed Ethan to the turn for her small subdivision, a townhome community that sat about a mile off Main Street. When he only nodded his head and murmured a husky “I remember,” she turned her gaze to the window, another one of those nameless emotions bubbling to the surface.
The February weather had been colder than usual, so the trees that lined the entry to her development were still bare. Even without the pretty shades of green that had canopied the neighborhood on his last visit, Ethan took each turn like a pro.
He did remember.
Which did nothing to help her internal argument to stay cool, calm and distant toward Ethan Colton.
An unbearable heaviness threatened to pull her under at the realization, and she rubbed a slow, soothing hand over her belly. The baby was in one of its quiet periods and had settled down during the drive. Over the past few months, every time she’d begun to feel any anxiety, Lizzie had focused on the life she carried. Staying calm for the baby was essential to its well-being, and she was determined to avoid as much stress as possible.
Or at least the self-induced kind, Lizzie admitted with a quick eye roll that reflected back at her from the window of Ethan’s truck.
Oblivious to her thoughts, Ethan turned in to her driveway and cut the engine. His gaze roamed over the brick facing before he turned toward her with a smile. “What a great place. I thought so before, and it’s only more true in the light of day.”
“I love it. I’ve loved this place from the first moment I saw it.” The baby gave a sharp kick as if to punctuate the point, and Lizzie laid a firm hand over her stomach.
“You okay?”
“Field-goal practice has begun once more.”
“Do you need to sit for a moment?”
“No. Walking will help move her a bit.” She was already reaching for the door handle when long, strong fingers came down over her hand.
“Wait. I’ll come around.” The strength that lined his features softened as his gaze drifted to her stomach. “So the baby’s a girl today?”
“I told you. I like to trade off each day.”
“So you did.” His hand lifted from hers to settle over the large mound of her belly. “But she’s still kicking field goals?”
Her voice came out on a husky croak, her throat desert dry. “Like a champ.”
“Which means you definitely need a bit of pampering. I’ll come around to get you.”
The tender moment of connection ended, the crackle of electricity that seemed to flow between them effortlessly fizzling in the cool air that blew in through his open door. Lizzie kept her hand on the door handle but followed Ethan’s command to stay put.
It was nice to have the help and the extra bit of attention. Even if she put aside the feelings for Ethan that never seemed to fully go away, it was just nice to have someone to talk to about the baby. Her coworkers had been excited for her, and she’d made a few friends since she’d started at the bank, but they weren’t with her in her more private moments. Decorating the baby’s room or picking out some items at the store had been all her own doing.
“Why don’t you give me your keys and I’ll go in ahead of you?”
“I know you’re worried, but it’s not that bad. This is my house.”
One eyebrow rose. “Humor me.”
Lizzie stilled from where she worked her way out of the seat belt. “You use that look to get whatever you want, Colton?”
“Did it work?”
“Sadly, yes.”
One of those rare smiles lit up his face. “Then consider it an effective tactic.”
Lizzie allowed Ethan to help her from the elevated passenger seat of his truck, then handed over her keys. “I’ll stay behind you.”
She stayed true to her word but couldn’t fully eliminate the seeds of resentment that took root as she followed him to her front door. This was her home. She’d worked and saved and had been so proud when she’d qualified for the mortgage on her own. All her hard work and dedication, focus and goal setting, had paid off. And ten months ago, she’d signed the papers and moved in.
Now she had to face the fact that someone had threatened all she’d worked for. Worse, they’d threatened the fragile life she protected within her.
“Come on in.” Ethan gestured her through her open front door. “I’ll look around, but everything looks like it’s in place.”
“Everything’s where it should be. The curse of the foster child.”
“Oh?”
The curious “Oh” had gone straight over her head, but the question beneath his question didn’t. Lizzie glanced up from her focused perusal of the front living area. “Sure. Keep things neat as a pin so you don’t give them a reason to get rid of you.”
“You said that without a trace of bitterness.”
“Because I’m not bitter. Not at all.” When he only continued to stare at her, Lizzie pressed on. “I had wonderful people who took care of me. They did the best they could and they did love me.”
“I hear a but there.”
“But I was the stubborn teenager who kept my distance from them. They weren’t my real parents, and I never let them forget it.”
“You sound sad about that.”
“More than you can know. Roy and Rhonda Carlton were my last foster family and they cared for me. They gave me a home, and I didn’t appreciate them nearly enough.”
“My brother Chris mentioned their passing several years back. We thought they might have known—”
Lizzie’s attention sharpened on all Ethan didn’t say. “Thought what?”
“It’s nothing.”
She leveled her own stare on him and knew the well-practiced gesture had a similar effect as his lone eyebrow. Nor did she miss the resigned look or the small exhalation as Ethan paced through her living room, his large frame at odds with the delicate furniture she’d selected.
“Chris is a PI, and he looked into them a bit when we were trying to find out more about Josie. To see if they knew anything. That was about a year after she disappeared and—” his large shoulders rose and fell in a simple shrug “—he discovered they died in a car accident.”
“A hit-and-run on a night full of storms,” she affirmed. “It was a terrible tragedy, but I’ve always taken comfort that they were together.”
“Did they have other foster children at the time?”
“No. After Josie ran away they didn’t seem to have the heart for it any longer. She and I were the last fosters they had.”
“What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Didn’t you miss Josie?”
Pain she’d long buried speared through her midsection at the direct mention of his sister. Although she was a year and a half older, Josie had been her best friend, and the two of them had been as close as sisters.
Until the day they weren’t.
“Of course I did. The Carltons practically raised both of us. But she and I had grown apart and then one day she just disappeared.”
“She did that to us, too.” Ethan continued to drift around the room, his restless energy as raw as an impending storm. “Grew apart. Stopped wanting to see us for our court-sanctioned visits. Until the day she just vanished.”
“Did you ever find out where she went?”
“No.” He picked up a small crystal giraffe from her coffee table and turned it over in his hands. Although his gaze was ostensibly on the small piece, Lizzie could tell he was a million miles away. “And no amount of digging by my law-steeped siblings has provided any information.”
As she watched him, another thought hit Lizzie, as powerful as the proverbial storms she saw in Ethan. Curious, she pushed them in a different direction. “You don’t believe the nonsense some asinine journalists have begun spouting about her. The ridiculous notion that she’s taken up your father’s torch and is the Alphabet Killer.”
Ethan stiffened at her words, his normally stoic facade going to granite. “It’s not just the journalists.”
“Who, then?”
“Forget I mentioned it.” Ethan glanced down at the object he had gripped tight in his hands before gently settling it back on the coffee table.
“Come on, Ethan. You can’t tell me you really believe it. I realize none of us knew Josie as well as we thought, but I do know her well enough to know she’s not a killer.”
“No. I don’t believe—”
His words vanished into the air as a hard thud echoed from overhead. Ethan looked up, his gaze sharp. “What room is that? Above us?”
“The baby’s room.”
Another thud sounded above them and Ethan leaped from the room, the heavy tread of his footsteps already echoing as he raced up her stairs.
“Call 911!”
* * *
Ethan was torn between staying with Lizzie downstairs and heading after the intruder in her home, but every instinct screamed to take the option that might end this here and now.
More noise echoed from the upstairs hall and Ethan headed in the direction of the sound, quickly catching his bearings as he ascended to the second-floor landing. A door at the far end of the hall slammed closed and he had no doubt it was now locked as well.
As he moved determinedly toward the door, Ethan mentally cataloged what he knew of the house. It was relatively new and Lizzie was only the second owner, which meant the builder had likely left skeleton keys in the event someone was locked in.
A large quilted giraffe hung from the door and Ethan lifted his hand to the lintel, satisfied when his fingers brushed the thin piece of metal. He had the key in the lock and the door open in moments.
Only to find his rush was in vain.
The empty room’s lone window was already open, its bright pastel-colored curtains blowing in the afternoon breeze.
He crossed the small space in a matter of steps and caught sight of a figure racing across the back of the development. It briefly crossed his mind to follow, but he knew it for a fool’s errand.
“Did you—” Lizzie broke off, her voice heavy and out of breath as she came through the door.
“He’s gone.”
“He?”
“I thought.” Ethan stopped and turned back toward the window. The figure had vanished, but he conjured up the image in his mind. “He was wearing a thick sweatshirt with the hood up, so I guess it could be anyone. They were too far away to get a sense of height.”
“The police will ask what color.”
“It was nondescript navy blue.” Ethan glanced down at his own sweatshirt, tossed on that morning from a stack of similar clothes in the bottom of his drawer. “Just like I’m wearing. Hell, like half the population wears every weekend.”
“It’s still something.”
Lizzie stood framed inside the doorway, long, curly waves of hair framing her face, and he stilled. Since he’d seen her the morning before, his emotions had roller-coastered through the ups and downs of his new reality.
Yet here she was. Standing in the doorway of their child’s room, a warrior goddess prepared to do battle to protect her home. He saw no fear. Instead, all he saw was a ripe, righteous anger, spilling from her in hard, deep breaths.
“Maybe you should sit down?”
“I’m too mad to sit.”
“Once again, I’m forced to ask the obvious. Humor me.”
He reached for the window, but she stopped him. “Leave it. It’s not that cold, and maybe there are fingerprints.”
Although he had no doubt the perp had left nothing behind, Ethan did as she requested. She’d already taken a seat in the rocking chair in the corner, and he felt his knees buckle at the image that rose up to replace her in his mind’s eye.
Lizzie, rocking in that same chair, their child nestled in her arms, suckling at her breast.
The shock of emotion that burrowed beneath his heart raced through him, and Ethan fought to keep any trace of it from showing. How could he feel so much joy at something so unexpected?
At something he’d never wanted?
He’d grappled with that fact from the very first moments with Lizzie the morning before in his kitchen and had yet to find any answer.
Yes, she carried his child. And yes, that had raised a protective instinct he never knew he possessed. But it was something more. Something deeper.
He’d spent his entire adult life avoiding entanglements, so the depth of how far he and Lizzie were now entwined should have been a concern. So how come he wasn’t feeling more restrained? He should feel as if he had a noose notched against his throat, but instead, these weird moments of excitement broke over him, swamping him in a confusing mix of protectiveness and desire.
The sound of sirens broke through his thoughts, and he grasped at the intrusion like a lifeline. He needed to get out of his head and focus on the issue at hand.
Lizzie was in danger.
The anger that had ridden her cheeks had faded, leaving her face pale, her green eyes wide. She was scared—more than she’d likely admit—and it broke his heart that she had to deal with something like this.
“Rest a minute. I’ll go meet them at the door.”
* * *
A lifetime spent around law-enforcement professionals had given Ethan a wary level of respect for them. Anyone who put their life on the line for the safety of others would always have his admiration.
But he sure as hell didn’t trust them.
Cops saw too much. Listened too much. And, at times, drew conclusions where there were none. The two cops currently sitting at Lizzie’s kitchen table fell firmly in the latter category.
After a quick look in the baby’s room and a series of innocuous questions, Officer McNulty dived in. Ethan pegged him for about a quarter century on the force and a know-it-all, and he wasn’t disappointed.
“Miss Conner. How long have these incidents been going on?”
“They started a few months ago at work. I gave all these details to Detective Bell when I filed a complaint a few weeks ago.”
McNulty kept his smile broad, but his implacable tone never wavered. “And we appreciate that. But Officer Warren and I would like to get a sense for ourselves.”
Lizzie walked through the same details she’d provided Ethan with the day before. By the time she got to the rattle incident, she was visibly shaken.
Ethan laid a hand over hers and didn’t miss McNulty’s pointed stare at the protective gesture. He leveled one of his own on the cop and was pleased to see the man look away first.
He might have an appreciation for the law, but he refused to be cowed by it.
McNulty turned things over to his partner, and the broad smile indicated Officer Warren was clearly playing good cop today. He took a softer tack, starting with nice, easy questions about the baby and when it was due. Sweet comments designed to put Lizzie at ease. From the hard flex of her hand beneath his fingers, Ethan knew the officer’s questions had done anything but.
“You say these incidents have been going on about two months now?”
“Yes.”
“That’s also about the time the Alphabet Killer began his rampage.” Warren lobbed that bomb across the table, and Ethan picked it up without a second thought.
“Granite Gulch is clear across Blackthorn County.”
“Yes, Mr. Colton.” Warren’s smile sharpened, a wolf under those sheep’s clothes. “A place your family is well acquainted with.”
“Granite Gulch is my home. My family’s home.”
“It was your father’s home, too.”
The barb hit its mark, and Ethan fought showing any response beyond irritated boredom. “My father’s home is a maximum-security prison, Officer. What’s your point?”
“I’m sure you know.”
“And I’m quite sure I don’t.”
Officer McNulty chose that moment to step in. “Surely you’re well aware of the rumors about your sister, Mr. Colton.”
“The ones that claim my youngest sister has taken up my father’s mantle, killing victims with his same pattern? That rumor, Officer?”
“One and the same.”
“Josie’s innocent!” The words spilled from Lizzie’s lips, her cry echoing around the kitchen and startling them all from the impasse that was quickly brewing.
“Do you know something, Miss Conner? Something that can help the police find whoever is responsible for these murders?”
Lizzie set her jaw, conviction shining from the very depths of her eyes. “Only that it’s not Josie. I know it’s not. She’s not capable of it.”
“People are capable of any number of things, Miss Conner,” Officer McNulty said before standing.
“You’re leaving?”
“Yes, ma’am. Thank you for the coffee. Officer Warren and I will be in touch.”
Ethan squeezed Lizzie’s hand, a silent order to stay put, and walked the officers to her front door. “Thank you for coming.”
Officer McNulty took one last glance around the living room before turning his direct stare on Ethan. As the action was meant to intimidate, Ethan simply stood taller, the scrutiny something he’d lived with his entire life.
“Keep an eye on her, Mr. Colton.” McNulty touched the tip of his hat.
The surprising shot of compassion when he’d only expected censure had Ethan nodding, his voice gruff. “Count on it.”
The two officers stepped through the door and Ethan closed it firmly behind them, flipping the locks. Their discussion with the cops continued to roll through his mind on a loop, and he struggled with the way the conversation had shifted from a faceless intruder to his sister.
Josie had been gone for so long. They’d all looked for her, unwilling to give up hope they’d find her, but after repeated disappointment he and his siblings had made a pact to do their best to preserve their sanity. Her disappearance had taken another piece of each of them, carving away what emotional protection each had created after their mother’s death and Matthew’s conviction.
It had been Annabel who’d finally suggested they drop the focused search. They loved their baby sister, but looking for her remained an open wound none of them could heal from. Ethan knew Trevor perpetually kept an FBI file open and followed small leads every now and again. And Sam’s position in the Granite Gulch PD gave him access to the records room, which he hunted through every now and again. Beyond that, they’d all done their best to move on after Josie Colton had vanished at the age of seventeen, seemingly into thin air.
So how had her name now become synonymous with the Alphabet Killer?
“That was fun.” Lizzie stood at the opposite end of the hallway, in front of the kitchen, a half-drunk pot of coffee in her hands.
Her words pulled him from his musings, and Ethan closed the short distance down the hall. “I’m sorry if they upset you.”
“Nothing like feeling like a suspect in your own home.”
“Did the detective assigned to your case make you feel that way?”
“No.” She poured the remaining coffee into his cup before turning toward the sink. “He’s been very kind and understanding. I do think he’s doing his best with limited information.”
“If today’s events are any indication, I don’t think he’s doing enough.” Ethan picked up his mug, the events of the past hour swirling through his mind. In addition to the interrogation, McNulty and Warren had called in a field unit to do a quick dusting of the windowsill for prints. When they’d turned up nothing on the sill, Lizzie had opted to avoid ruining the rest of the room with the mess the powder would make.
“You haven’t met him, Ethan. He’s a good guy. And after that Keystone Cops routine, I’m more than tempted to call Detective Bell. How dare those officers come in here and make it look like we’re criminals?”
“Coltons are an easy target. I’m sorry you got dragged in for fun.”
She slammed a dish towel against the kitchen sink and whirled on him. “Oh, that’s a load of BS and you know it.”
“Oh, really?” Ethan heard the spark in her voice and allowed it to roll over the lingering anger he’d carried all afternoon, igniting like a match to gasoline. He hadn’t intended to say another word about his sister, yet the words spilled out before he could even think to draw them back. “How was this anything but an interrogation of Matthew Colton’s son and a fishing expedition to see if his daughter is a killer?”
“Josie didn’t do it.”
“Tell that to the court of public opinion.”
Lizzie stilled. “Do you think your sister’s the one responsible for the murders?”
“I—” His hand trembled against the handle of his mug, and Ethan left the cup on the table. “No, I don’t.”
“So what is it? If you don’t think Josie’s involved in the murders, what has you so upset?”
“How can you ask me that? We’re here because some faceless bastard is trying to hurt you and the baby. Hell, he was here while we were in the house!”
Lizzie moved toward the table, standing near him but not touching. “I’m upset, too, but I don’t see how these situations are related. The officers were wrong to try and make a connection between what’s happening with the Alphabet Killer and some creepy jerk who’s trying to make my life a living hell.”
“Don’t you see it?”
He didn’t want to scare her—that was the furthest thing from his mind—but how was Lizzie unable to see what was so obvious?
“See what? I realize the murders are on the top of everyone’s mind, especially with a twenty-four–seven news cycle, but what does that have to do with some creep who’s been writing me notes?”
Ethan reached out, unable to keep his distance. But as his hand closed over hers, the flesh beneath his palm soft and warm, he regretted the words that came next.
“Your name begins with an E, Lizzie. Elizabeth is your given name.”
