Читать книгу Ambushed At Christmas - Barb Han - Страница 14

Deacon rolled onto his side and stared at the clock. It read 3:43 a.m. Most of his family would be up in the next half hour, as well as his cousin Zach, the Broward County Sheriff.

The same couple of questions recycled. Could the trail murderer be the same man they’d been looking for in Jacobstown? Most people by now believed that the man responsible for the brutal killings of half a dozen heifers and even more small animals in various ranches across the state would move on to human targets. It made even more sense that the man would go after a woman, considering all the animal deaths reported so far had been females.

Folks in Jacobstown were jumpy and rightfully so. People started locking their doors, an act so foreign it seemed strange even to him to have to think about. People who used to leave cars running when they ran inside the post office to pick up mail from a PO box had changed habits. Everyone had buttoned up in the wake of the incidents.

Anyone new was suspect now instead of welcomed like in the past. The town had a long tradition of being family friendly but times had changed. People had changed. And fear—a foreign emotion—gripped the townsfolk.

Deacon thought about the detective from earlier. She’d put up a brave front but he’d seen the panic in her eyes. Leah Cordon lingering in his mind was as productive as pouring milk over asparagus.

Deacon sat up, rubbed his eyes and threw his feet over the side of the bed. Since sleep was out of the question, he might as well get up and do something industrious. His brothers and the ranch hands would be awake soon and he wanted to deliver the news personally that the Fort Worth Police had arrested the person responsible for the attack at Porter’s Bend. If there was any possible link between this guy and the person responsible for butchering animals on the family land, everyone would want to know about it.

Deacon’s thoughts again wandered into territory he knew better than to go—Leah Cordon.

He’d moved into his bungalow-style house on the ranch six months ago, the day after it had finished being built. Living here was convenient and he appreciated having his own space. He’d always been that kid who kept to the sidelines and did his own thing. Not much had changed since becoming a man. He’d probably laugh if someone described him as the strong, silent type but he couldn’t argue.

Having his own place gave him breathing room, even though he didn’t feel like he fit the rancher’s life. His older brother, Mitch, had taken to it like a fisherman to a pond. The baby of the family, Amber, followed in their eldest brother’s footsteps. But he and his three other brothers, Will, Nate and Jordan, fell somewhere in the cracks. Don’t get him wrong, he loved Texas and the family business. Being out on the range and sleeping under the stars kept him sane. It was the rest—the part where his entire life was planned out before him—that made his collar feel like a noose.

The ringtone of his cell caught him off guard. He hopped into his jeans and got to his phone that was vibrating on his dresser.

Leah Cordon’s name was on the screen.

“What’s up, Detective?” Deacon asked.

“Sorry to wake you.” She sounded like she’d had a shot of espresso.

“I haven’t slept.” Deacon sat on the edge of the chair next to his dresser, thinking he wouldn’t mind a cup of black coffee. He raked his free hand through his hair.

“What’s keeping you awake?” Her voice had a sexy ring to it, a campfire-and-moonlight-under-the-stars quality. And that was something he had no place noticing given the nature of their friendship—a word he’d use lightly to describe their liaison.

“Most likely the same reason your eyes are still open.” The line went quiet for a second and he wondered if she were debating whether or not it had been a good idea to call him.

“I’m heading over to the coroner’s office in a little while to see the body,” she finally said. “Something feels off.”

“What do you think you’ll find there?” His curiosity was piqued.

“Not sure yet,” she admitted.

“But you think it’s worth it to make the drive over.” He was stating the obvious but it didn’t hurt to make sure they were on the same page. He’d learned a long time ago not to assume he knew what anyone else was thinking.

She agreed that she did. Another few beats of silence permeated the line. Then came, “Your heifers. They suffered, didn’t they?”

“Yes.” He let his tone reflect his frustration.

“You mentioned smaller animals, too,” she continued.

“There’ve been rabbits.” He switched hands with the phone and put it to his left ear.

“No weapons were ever recovered.” It was a statement of fact, not a question.

“And no DNA was left behind,” he added. “What are you getting at?”

“In your best guess, what kind of weapon was used?” Her voice had a quiet calm and he assumed it was the one she used to get people to confide in her. He would’ve anyway because he didn’t have anything to hide.

“A jigsaw,” he said.

The line was dead quiet for several beats and he could tell the wheels in her mind were spinning. “I thought that’s what I read. This guy made a clean cut.” She paused a few more beats before adding, “I’m sorry about your animals.”

“Are you still going to the coroner’s office?” he asked.

“I am,” she confirmed.

“Mind if I show up? I’d like to get a look for myself and your badge will get me through the door.” He could get to Fort Worth in about an hour. Judging her reactions so far, she didn’t believe the man sitting in jail had committed the crime.

“I have no authority in this investigation,” she said quietly. The killer had murdered someone on her trail. Based on the description of Jillian Mitchell, the two looked similar. Did the detective think it could’ve easily been her, instead? He understood when a crime hit a little too close to home. He knew the fear that could instill in people.

“I might be able to help with that.” With Deacon’s family name he could probably call in a few favors and get a private visit with the body of the victim without rattling too many cages. But he hoped the detective would take him with her. All she had to do was flash her badge and he wouldn’t have to have his name tied to the investigation.

“You know what, I made a mistake calling. Forget what I said. I’m sorry to bother you. I should go.” What had happened in the last few seconds to change her mind? Was it the fact that he’d used the Kent last name? That normally opened doors instead of closing them. Of course, she might not want to be associated with anyone who was high profile. That could draw attention to her.

“Hold on a minute, I—”

It was too late. The line went dead.

LEAH PULLED INTO the parking lot of the Tarrant County Coroner’s office. Dr. Timothy Rex had been with the city since long before her time and he was one of the most respected people she had the privilege of working with.

She’d no sooner put the gearshift in Park than movement on the east side of the parking lot caught her eye. A pickup truck door opened and Deacon Kent got out of the driver’s side. Her stomach gave a little flip at seeing Deacon Kent again. She ignored her reaction to him, even though instinctively she checked her face in the mirror. She should’ve known he would show. She’d all but invited him on the phone, and had regretted it almost instantly. It wasn’t like her to act on impulse, which is exactly what she’d done when she’d picked up her cell at almost four o’clock in the morning.

Speaking of which, lack of sleep had dark circles cradling her eyes. She’d never been one to do well without sleep, even though she’d gotten very little of it during her high school years. Unlike her peers, she wasn’t lying awake at night, staring at the ceiling because she worried she’d fail a test. Her stress levels reached far deeper than that. While everyone else met up on Friday nights to find out who would host the next party after Friday Night Lights, she churned all night feeling physically ill. She thought about what she could’ve done differently. Her mind stirred on how she’d let her friend down in the worst possible way.

Leah pushed those heavy thoughts aside and stepped out of her car. She didn’t bother asking what he was doing there.

“Good morning, Mr. Kent.” He was already making a beeline toward her by the time she climbed out of her driver’s seat.

“Call me Deacon,” he said. “I hope it’s okay that I’m here.”

“You have a vested interest in this case and so do I.” She left out the part where she liked having someone to bounce ideas off of for a change. For too long it had just been her and her three-year-old son, Connor. Even when she’d dated Detective Dougherty, she hadn’t felt the sense of—what?—comfort that she instantly felt with Deacon. She chalked it up to it being easier to talk to a stranger than those closest at times. But nothing felt strange about Deacon Kent. In a way, she felt like she’d known him for years and it was probably just because he was easy to talk to. She didn’t want to get inside her head about what that meant, so she just let it be.

There were four cars parked in the lot at this early hour aside from Deacon’s truck and her sedan. It wouldn’t be difficult to see if anyone came in or out.

“The Mitchell case isn’t mine to ask questions about. So I have a Jane Doe who came in three nights ago that we’ll say you might be able to ID. According to witnesses, she’s a vagrant and you won’t recognize her but that’s not the point—”

“You’re looking for an excuse to walk in the door,” he finished the sentence for her.

“That’s right.”

Leah badged them inside the building and then led Deacon down a hospital-like white-tiled hallway that led to a glass door. Etched on it were the words Dr. Timothy Rex along with a series of alphabet letters to indicate his degrees.

At sixty-eight, Dr. Rex, aka T-Rex was still a crackerjack. His mind was sharper than most thirty-year-olds she knew, which wasn’t exactly an endorsement for the people in her circle. Leah almost laughed out loud. Her circle consisted of the people she knew at work, her babysitter and a three-year-old. Unless she counted the purple dinosaur from Allen, Texas, whose voice she could hear in her sleep thanks to Connor binge-watching the DVDs. Did they call it binge-watching when it was almost-constant background noise and some of the same episodes over and over again?

Leah made a move for the metal bar to open the door but Deacon beat her to it. She couldn’t remember the last time a man had opened a door for her. She was independent and strong. She didn’t need a man to open doors. But there was something sweet and chivalrous about the gesture that caused her stomach to do another round of somersaults.

Old-fashioned chivalry was still a turn-on. She mumbled a thank-you and caught a small smile toying with the corner of his lips—lips she had no business focusing on.

There was no receptionist working this early. Leah had expected that. She didn’t have credentials to badge through the next set of doors leading to the lab. Dr. Rex looked up at her. He rocked his head as though he’d been expecting her. He hadn’t. She’d given him no warning. His manner had always been welcoming. That was just Rex.

He hurried over to the door, first removing his examination gloves and tossing them into the wastepaper basket positioned next to the door. He acknowledged Deacon with another smile after letting them in.

Deacon stuck out his hand as the door closed behind him.

T-Rex took it with a vigorous shake, introducing himself. His eyes sparked for the briefest moment when he heard Deacon’s last name. She figured that happened a lot, even though nothing about the down-to-earth cowboy screamed that he was one of the wealthiest men in Texas. Leah almost couldn’t wrap her mind around it. She came from money. Or, more accurately, her parents had money. They still did because she refused to let their money manipulate her and that’s exactly what they’d tried to use it for. As an only child, she blamed being the sole focus of their manipulation efforts on the lack of siblings to spread the “wealth” of their attention across.

Leah had gone to the police academy after getting her degree in criminal justice. Neither her philosophy-professor father nor her board-of-directors mother approved of her degree and that’s the reason they’d stated when they refused to pay tuition for her to go to the out-of-state college she wanted to attend. So she’d played the child-of-a-professor card and went to the University of Texas at Arlington instead. Being the child of faculty gave her free tuition and that had helped not to rack up education expenses. Now she couldn’t imagine trying to bring up a child on a detective’s salary and repay college loans.

T-Rex was given his nickname for his turtle-like shoulders and arms. It might’ve been cruel except that he’d been the one to make the joke and the name stuck. He said he’d had it since college and didn’t mind. T-Rex, after all, had been an apex predator. The real story behind it was that he’d broken both of his arms as a child. His missionary parents who traveled with him abroad had made sure he’d received the best available care. But he’d been given medical attention in a developing country. The incident had left him unable to lift his arms over his head. He liked to say he got a PhD and an MD because he couldn’t get the alphabet letters from his boyhood aspiration, NFL.

Otherwise, he was tall-ish. Admittedly, standing next to Deacon Kent made T-Rex look smaller. His spectacles slid down on his nose—much like pictures of Santa Claus. With the resemblance, there were other monikers T-Rex could’ve picked up. He had the same belly and carriage as the guy who made midnight rounds one night a year, a night that was coming soon. T-Rex also had a slow smile and quick wit. Both were genuine.

“How’s the grandbaby?” Leah always asked about the five-year-old light of his life, Harley. She’d come to live with him and his wife after losing his daughter to a rare bone disease. The father had never been in the picture.

“Growing like a weed.” He beamed. It couldn’t be easy to take on a child at his and his wife’s age. But he was the kind of man who wouldn’t turn his back on someone who needed him and especially not family. “She decided she needs to learn how to do a cartwheel.”

“What does she need to do that for?” Leah asked with a little more enthusiasm than she felt. She did care. Don’t get her wrong. But she was biding her time until she could ask what she wanted, what was on the tip of her tongue.

T-Rex rolled his eyes. “She’s made up a list of all the things she needs to do while she’s still young.”

“She still thinking kindergarten is the end of her childhood?” Leah couldn’t help but smile. The kid was a cutup and Leah figured she got half her personality from her grandfather. If she got half of his big heart, she’d do fine in life.

He nodded before turning his attention to Deacon. “You got kids?”

“Me? No.” Deacon’s response was a little too quick.

Leah almost asked what he had against kids. She figured it was none of her business what he thought about anything, except that a little piece of her argued that she did care. And more than she wanted to acknowledge to herself.

T-Rex must’ve picked up on her tension because he redirected his focus. “What brings you to my humble abode so early in the morning?”

“I need to see Jane Doe,” she said.

“Ah.” T-Rex’s gaze bounced from her to Deacon.

“His friend is missing and she fits my Jane Doe’s description.” Leah didn’t like being dishonest. But if she inserted herself into Charles Dougherty’s investigation and asked the questions she wanted to outright ask, Charles could make her life at work even harder than he had been.

“Right this way.”