Читать книгу Colton's Texas Stakeout - C.J. Miller - Страница 7
ОглавлениеAnnabel Colton’s thoughts veered off course at the sight of the handsome cowboy sauntering into the police precinct. Though he looked familiar, she couldn’t place him as a resident of Granite Gulch, Texas. She would have remembered seeing the man of her dreams strutting around town. Granite Gulch was a small town, and having lived there all her life, Annabel knew almost everyone.
Just like almost everyone knew the Coltons. Not everything said about the Coltons was good but lately, mostly positive. Annabel considered that an accomplishment.
The sexy cowboy swaggered, confidence in spades, all six foot something moving through the precinct with determination and purpose. His blue-and-white plaid shirt covered broad shoulders, the sleeves rolled to the elbows; his worn jeans hung on him in just the right way, and he wore dusty boots, carrying his brown Stetson in his hand.
Annabel checked her mouth wasn’t hanging open and averted her eyes to watch him in her peripheral vision. Her heart was hammering, and she felt dizzy. She took a deep breath. Women in Texas hadn’t swooned in a century, and she wasn’t bringing it back into style.
The sexy cowboy distraction took the edge off her frustration. She was working—rather marginally—on the biggest case to hit Granite Gulch in twenty years. A serial killer, nicknamed the Alphabet Killer, was stalking and killing women in and around Blackthorn County. The killer had taken the lives of six victims: Anna, Brittany, Celia, Daphne, Erica and Francie, in that order. The killer’s obsession with the alphabet was one of their best leads in the case.
The police had been close to finding the Alphabet Killer, using clues Annabel had pieced together from reading the letters the killer had written to Matthew Colton.
Matthew Colton was Annabel’s biological father, an incarcerated serial killer, dying of cancer with only a few months to live. His killing spree had ended in the death of Annabel’s beloved, hardworking mother. Annabel’s brother Ethan remembered seeing Saralee Colton’s dead body in their farmhouse, a bull’s-eye drawn on her forehead, but she hadn’t been found. It was a source of great pain for Annabel and her siblings. Matthew Colton was dangling information in front of his children about where Saralee’s body might be located. Like everything Matthew Colton did, he had an agenda. He did nothing for the sake of kindness, not even for his children.
The Alphabet Killer, who the police now believed was a woman named Regina Willard, was still free on the streets hunting for her next victim. If the killer stuck to her pattern, women whose names began with G were on the chopping block. The entire county was worried. This was the second time the town had been terrorized by a serial killer, and whispers and rumors about Matthew Colton and the similarities between the killers had been at an all-time high.
Annabel’s curiosity grew when the cowboy stopped at her brother Sam Colton’s desk. Sam, a detective for the Granite Gulch Police Department, and her oldest brother, Trevor, an FBI profiler, had been in deep discussion. They had not looped her into their conversations, likely centering around the Alphabet Killer. The extent of her involvement in the high-profile case had been to read the letters from Regina to Matthew Colton and provide what clues and interpretations she could. The Granite Gulch police chief, Jim Murray, had believed Annabel might have some insight, being a fresh graduate of the academy and known for her keen attention to detail. He had been right. She had pointed the FBI to the boardinghouse in Rosewood where Regina had been staying.
Sam and Trevor straightened as the cowboy spoke to them. Their body language was defensive, and after several exchanges, the three men looked ready to throw fists.
When her brothers led the man to the interrogation room, Annabel beelined for the observation deck. If Trevor and Sam wanted to speak to this man, then it had to be about the Alphabet Killer. She wanted to know how he was involved. Could they finally have a witness who could provide a solid lead?
Watching the man up close, Annabel confirmed her initial assessment. He was gorgeous. His blond hair was cut longer but kept neat, and his green eyes were piercing. She was glad he decided to sit facing the one-way mirror. She could read his expression and body language.
Given his clothes and build, he could work on any of the nearby farms or ranches and be new to the area. Her friend Mia was usually the first to know about any eligible bachelors who moved to Granite Gulch. Maybe this emerald-eyed cowboy was already taken and, thus, why Mia hadn’t mentioned him. That would figure. All the best ones were.
Focusing on the conversation, Annabel turned on the listening speaker, hoping the pop didn’t draw her brothers’ attention. They wanted her uninvolved in the Alphabet Killer case, even though she had made an important contribution to it. She was a rookie on the force, and her brothers believed she needed to earn her chops before catching a real case.
The cowboy had laid his hat on the table in front of him. “I’ve been cooperative. I’ve answered your questions at length. Please, leave me and my employees alone. You’re impacting my business, and I can’t allow that to continue.”
As his statements fell into context, Annabel placed him. Jesse Willard, brother to the prime suspect in the alphabet killings. Annabel had seen a photo of him in the case file as a person of interest in assisting Regina Willard. The police and FBI suspected Regina Willard had help hiding from and dodging the authorities, but they hadn’t pinned down who exactly was assisting her. Her personal history was marred with failed relationships. Her parents were dead. But Regina had to have an ally to evade the police and FBI this long.
“We’re trying to stop a murderer. We’re not backing down from any leads until we find Regina,” Sam said.
Trevor was watching the exchange with his dark, assessing gaze. Annabel didn’t mistake his silence for disinterest. Trevor was analytical and intelligent. He was likely scrutinizing every movement, every eyebrow raise and every twitch of Jesse’s hand.
According to the case notes and what Annabel had overheard around the precinct, Trevor had spoken to Jesse before, but Annabel could picture him waiting for Jesse to inadvertently give something away that would help them find Regina.
Jesse plowed a hand through his hair in frustration. “I’ve told you before. I am not hiding my sister. I haven’t seen her in years.”
“How do we know you’ll come forward if you see her? What if she stops by your farm? Will you alert us?” Sam asked.
Jesse stared at Sam for a long moment, unblinking. His mouth twitched as if checking his words and trying to wrangle his temper under control. “While I am not convinced Regina has anything to do with these murders, if I saw her, I would let her know you wanted to speak with her. I’ll even drive her here myself. I want to put this matter behind me. It’s bad for business.”
“We have undercover FBI agents and police officers across the state looking for Regina. She hasn’t turned up. She’s getting help from someone,” Sam said. He folded his arms and looked pointedly at Jesse.
Annabel flinched, sensing Sam was pushing Jesse too hard. He had come to the police station on his own accord. If he was involved with a murderer, he would avoid the police. Something about his face and his body language told Annabel he was telling the truth about Regina, and that was disappointing. He didn’t know where Regina was, and, therefore, they still didn’t have a solid lead to follow.
That didn’t mean Regina wouldn’t turn up at Jesse’s farm in the near future, but for now, Jesse wasn’t hiding her.
“I can see I’ve wasted my time coming down here,” Jesse said and stood to leave.
He wasn’t under arrest, and they couldn’t hold him and barrage him with questions. As he walked toward the door, Annabel shut off the speaker and hurried back toward the information desk. Her assignment was the dullest in the entire department, and she’d pretend she hadn’t been listening to the conversation.
As she rounded the corner, she slammed into Jesse and lost her balance. He smelled of earth and spices, a masculine, clean scent. He reached to steady her, grabbing her arm with his free hand, his Stetson in the other. His grip was strong and firm. Her heart fluttered as she lifted her gaze to meet his. As their eyes met, she was struck all over again by how devastatingly handsome he was and how his green eyes seemed to see into her soul. Electricity and heat snapped between them. Annabel didn’t know she could feel this intensely for a man she hadn’t exchanged one word with. Did Jesse feel it, too?
Her breasts brushed his hard chest, and she felt every nerve ending in her body come to attention. Long-slumbering desire roared awake. She was already imagining rubbing her body against his, kissing his perfect mouth and running her hands across his hard body.
“Excuse me,” she said, her voice coming out breathy.
He nodded at her once swiftly. “Are you all right, ma’am?”
Nothing in his face gave away he was having the same dirty thoughts about her that she was about him. “I’m fine.”
He released her arm, and she dropped her hand from the front of his shirt where she had been holding on to the fabric. It wasn’t in her nature to play the damsel in distress, especially when she was in uniform, but something about him made her want to blush, bat her eyelashes and giggle.
“Have a good day,” he said.
Why couldn’t she think of something clever to say? Something to flirt with him, to convince him to stick around another few minutes? Flirting wasn’t her forte, and in front of Jesse, she felt tongue-tied.
As he walked away, she turned to watch him leave, appreciating how his jeans hung low on the tilt of his hips and—
“Annabel.”
She turned at the sound of her name. Sam was glaring at her. Trevor was assessing her. She set her hand on her hip, giving them as much sass as she could muster. “What?”
“What are you doing? Do you know who that man is?” Sam asked.
“Jesse Willard. Person of interest in an ongoing investigation,” she said, feeling hot and bothered and trying to pretend to be unaffected by her run-in with Jesse. Could her brothers see on her face she was attracted to Jesse? It had been obvious to her, and she felt her brothers would be quick to pick up on changes in her expression or body language.
“Person of interest in a serial-killer investigation. Watch yourself,” Sam said.
Though younger than her, Sam outranked her in the Granite Gulch Police Department. She wanted to shoot her mouth off and remind him that she was a police officer, she could handle herself, and she didn’t need his warning. But she kept her mouth shut, knowing her rookie status combined with Sam’s in with their boss, Chief Jim Murray, could mean she’d face another week of the world’s most boring assignments. As it was, she was doomed to a morning of fielding nonimportant, nonemergency calls, like explaining to the town busybody why a couple’s consensual, adult affair wasn’t a matter for the police or why a missing cat didn’t warrant a fire department, EMT and police response.
“Yes, sir,” she said, keeping her mocking tone to a minimum. She loved her brothers, but they could be overprotective pains in her side.
She returned to the information desk, her body still buzzing from the contact with Jesse Willard. After answering the phones for three hours, her partner, Luis Gonzales, arrived. At least in the afternoon, she and Luis would work the streets, heading out in the squad car and responding to emergencies. Though her brother’s influence in the GGPD meant she and Luis would catch the tamest emergency calls, anything was better than sitting at a desk all day.
Annabel had followed her dreams in becoming a police officer, and she hoped, with more hard work, it would be everything she’d imagined. She’d like to stop actual criminals, prevent crime and be a positive influence on the Granite Gulch community. While she alone couldn’t repay the huge debt her father owed society for his crimes, Annabel felt better knowing she was doing her best.
Maybe someday soon, that would start to feel like enough.
* * *
Another farmhand hadn’t shown up for work. Given the week he was having, Jesse Willard was in no mood to deal with additional problems the lack of help created. Longer hours and less sleep, the downsides of being the boss.
Owning a farm had been his dream, and it had its ups and downs. Lately, far more downs than ups.
Several important customers had cancelled their orders with him. They had hedged around the reason, but Jesse knew. He’d heard the rumors circulating in town that his sister—more specifically, his half sister—Regina was involved with the murders around Granite Gulch and nearby towns. Living in a small town meant the close-knit community led folks to believe everyone’s business was their business. Jesse lived forty minutes from Main Street, and he kept his visits to town brief. He was polite but detached when the town busybodies circled him. He preferred to keep to himself, but rumors about Regina were persistent. The Alphabet Killer was big news, and he couldn’t go a day without someone speculating on the reasons for the murders or the next victim.
Jesse didn’t know why the police and FBI suspected Regina. His older sister was a little off, and she could be disagreeable, but that was a far cry from being a murderer. He suspected it was more guesswork than actual evidence involved. Regina wasn’t capable of committing a murder, especially not a series of murders that were as methodical and cold as the media was describing.
Jesse had driven to the police station that morning, thinking the police would be reasonable. He’d thought they could talk man-to-man, but of course those Colton brothers thought they owned Granite Gulch. Their family tree had its share of nuts, but that didn’t slow them down. They thought Regina was the murderer, and they were bent on proving it. Maybe they believed themselves experts because they’d lived through an ordeal with their father. The similarities in the cases, which the media were quick to point out, were disturbing.
Why were they investigating the case anyway? Weren’t there serious conflicts of interest with the children of a serial killer investigating another serial killer, especially when the cases were connected?
It was another backward thing about Granite Gulch. It ran by its own rules. Add that to the reasons Jesse preferred to keep to himself.
Knowing he wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone, he headed to the barn. He needed to check his supplies and calculate what to order. Losing customers was rough when his profit margins were slim, but he’d find somewhere to cut extras from the budget.
Some days, he wished he hadn’t bought this farm. He loved being his own boss and setting his own hours, but there was a freedom in working as a farmhand, migrating to a new place on a whim. Setting his own hours often meant working seven days a week to complete tasks, spending ten hours in the field and then handling bills and paperwork another two hours at night.
As he inventoried, Jesse’s thoughts turned to the brunette he had run into that morning at the police precinct. In keeping with his luck, she had been wearing a police uniform. That should have turned him off immediately, but she filled it out nicely and it made him forget how much he detested the sight of the navy uniform in general. The brunette cop was trim and shapely, a woman who could get him going.
Her eyes were intelligent and trusting. She must not have been a cop long. The cops he knew were hard around the edges, having too many experiences with criminals and liars to see the good in people anymore. Most of Jesse’s memories of the police from his childhood were bad: yelling and sweeping in without fixing the problem. When they’d left, it had always been worse.
Maybe the Coltons’ jobs were making them cynical and eager to rush to judgment. They’d grown up with a serial killer for a father who’d murdered their mother. That had to have destroyed them. Who wouldn’t be traumatized by a childhood of violence and loss and spending their careers with liars and criminals? Jesse knew firsthand exactly how hard it was to keep the past as ancient history and not let it creep into everyday life.
“Hey, Mr. Jesse!”
At the sound of Noah’s voice, Jesse’s bad mood lifted. Noah was the son of one of his farmhands and sometimes came with his mother to work. Noah liked talking to Jesse, and since he didn’t cause trouble and his mother worked hard, Jesse didn’t have complaints about him tagging along behind him. He’d actually grown accustomed to the boy’s company and enjoyed listening to his stories.
“Did you hear the good news?” Noah asked.
Jesse could use some good news. “Nah, what did I miss?”
Sometimes, Noah’s news was about his sixth grade class, which wasn’t anything for Jesse to get excited about, but the boy needed to talk. Jesse hoped he could sometimes offer advice to keep Noah on the straight and narrow. He was a good kid, and, despite his father having left Noah and his mom before Noah was born, Noah didn’t seem lacking in parental love.
Noah tipped his red ball cap back on his head. “Mom’s having a baby.”
Jesse stopped, unsure if he had misheard Noah. The boy was right behind him. He turned. “Your mother is pregnant?”
“That’s what she said. It’s a secret, though, so don’t let it get around town.”
Jesse tried to remember what tasks Grace had been assigned for the day. Monitoring the cows? She could get kicked in the stomach. Repairing fencing? That was heavy, hard work. Grace was an experienced farmhand. Should he approach her? Let her know he could give her modified assignments? Offer her leave from work? Jesse knew nothing about babies and even less about pregnancy. What was the right thing to do?
His conscience wouldn’t rest easy until he spoke with Grace. As not to alarm Noah or make the boy think he had caused any problem, he set down his clipboard. “I’ll be right back. Why don’t you give me a hand and take that bag of duck feed to the pond?” It was a task Noah loved, and it had gotten to the point that, when the ducks saw Noah coming, they flocked toward him.
Noah grabbed the small bag of feed. “Okay. Be right back!”
Jesse checked the task schedule. Grace was assigned to the horses that day. He found Grace right where she should have been, feeding the horses. “Hey, Grace.”
She jumped at the sound of her name and turned. “Hey, boss.”
“Everything okay?” he asked. He didn’t want to ask her directly in case she wasn’t ready to talk about it.
Grace was smart. Lines formed around the corners of her eyes. “Noah told you.” She sighed.
He didn’t want the boy in trouble. “He cares about you and so do I. I can pretend not to know until you’re ready to tell me. But I want you to know I have plenty of work that might be less taxing. But it’s up to you, okay?”
Grace brushed her long brown bangs to the side. The rest of her hair was twisted on the back of her head and pinned. “The others will be upset if I’m given the easy work.”
Jesse folded his arms. “There is nothing easy on this farm, and everyone knows it. Plus, I’m the boss. What I say goes. When Tom broke his arm last year in that car accident, no one said a thing when he was given work he could manage.”
Grace’s eyes filled with tears, and she hugged Jesse. “Thank you.” After a couple seconds, she broke away and wiped at her eyes. “I’ve been tired and emotional. I was worried about telling you and the other guys. I don’t want anyone to think I’m getting special treatment.”
“If anyone has a problem with your work, tell them to speak to me. Got it?”
“Yes, boss,” she said with a smile.
Jesse would leave it at that. He’d adjust the schedule going forward and keep Grace safe. Grace seemed to be unaware that Tom, his foreman, had a soft spot for Grace, and the other guys looked to Tom for guidance. Tom would be fine with whatever Grace did, and the other guys would follow his lead.
As Jesse walked back to the barn, he thought again of the brunette police officer. He didn’t have a good reason to see her again. But maybe he’d go into town to buy a few fencing pliers to replace ones that had broken. If his path crossed with the police officer, it would be well worth the trip.
* * *
“Tough break in Rosewood,” Luis said, adjusting the air-conditioning in the car. It was eighty-three degrees, and it felt hotter inside the vehicle.
Annabel set her iced coffee in the cruiser’s cup holder. “Yeah.” She didn’t want to talk about it. Annabel had agreed to read the letters sent from Regina to Matthew, less as a police officer and more as a relation to Matthew Colton.
Though the police had been too late to catch Regina Willard, her room in Rosewood had convinced them that they had the right person. The walls in Regina’s room had been covered in the alphabet, written in red permanent marker, a bull’s-eye drawn beside each letter and newspaper articles of the victims posted on the walls. Hundreds of clippings, obsessive and disturbing. Regina used the same red marker and the bull’s-eye on the foreheads of her victims after she killed them. “Regina’s in the wind.”
“We’ll get another break,” Luis said.
Regina was no longer writing to Matthew Colton in prison. They had the letters and not much else. The FBI might find something in her room or perhaps they’d receive a tip on their hotline, but the more time that passed, the colder the trail grew. “Hopefully soon.”
“What letter is she up to? G?” Luis asked.
“G,” Annabel confirmed. The Alphabet Killer, while adopting some of Matthew Colton’s rituals, had added some of her own. She was killing women of a certain profile—long, dark hair, twenty to thirty-five years old—in letter order based on her victims’ first names. The police hadn’t caught the pattern until the killer’s third victim, Celia Robison, had been killed on her wedding day. She’d had a bull’s-eye center dot slightly off center to the left drawn on her forehead. Celia had been Sam’s fiancée, and her death had brought the serial killer case even closer to home. So close, in fact, the FBI previously suspected Annabel’s long-lost sister, Josie, of being the Alphabet Killer. Annabel was relieved the FBI had turned their attention away from Josie. No matter what rumors swirled about Josie, Annabel wouldn’t believe her missing sister was a killer.
They had their father’s blood in them, undeniably, but each of Matthew Colton’s children had chosen honorable and respectable jobs on the right side of the law. Though she couldn’t know for sure, Annabel believed the same was true of Josie.
The car radio beeped. Annabel answered and waited for the message and code and tried not to let disappointment nip at her. They had to investigate a missing cat. Again. Annabel hid her annoyance and ignored Luis’s grimace. He was an experienced cop, and before being paired with her, he’d worked much more interesting cases.
After Annabel acknowledged the code and location, Luis made a U-turn in the direction of the house with the missing cat. “You realize this is the same dingbat who lost her cat last week?” Luis asked.
“I realize it,” Annabel said.
“Cat’s probably hiding in her house again,” Luis said. The last time Mrs. Granger had called them to help find her cat, Cubbles had been sleeping in a windowsill.
“She called us. We need to take it seriously,” Annabel said.
“Fine, but I’m not turning on the lights and sirens for this,” Luis said.
“I agree. But we will check the windowsill first,” Annabel said.
This was a familiar discussion between them. Luis had much less patience for calls he considered a waste of police resources. Some of the calls seemed silly, but she was eager to prove herself. They had to respond to calls—even the ones that were a waste of her time. If she could get the chief and Sam to see her as more than a rookie in need of protecting, she might prove to them she was capable of actual police work.
