Читать книгу Colton's Texas Stakeout - C.J. Miller - Страница 9

Chapter 3

Annabel had pulled out her books from the police academy and had reviewed her notes on conducting a stakeout the night before. Though the chance of spotting Regina Willard walking around Willard’s Farm was low, she wanted to be prepared. This was her first assignment without Luis outside routine police work, and Chief Murray was watching her closely. She wouldn’t make a foolish mistake and have the chief believing he had made an error in giving her this task. She had stuck her neck out, claimed she was ready for more and she would rise to the challenge.

Feeling guilty for watching Willard’s Farm when Jesse had been helpful at the scene of the beating outside the Bar and Saloon, Annabel reminded herself a stakeout wasn’t personal. This was about stopping a killer and following every lead, regardless of how remote the chances of finding Regina were. Annabel didn’t owe Jesse anything, and even though he had seemed nice, plenty of things in Annabel’s life had seemed good until they weren’t. She had happily lived in the big farmhouse with her parents and siblings, her home with Mama Jean had been wonderful, but those things had been snatched away. Jesse might seem nice, but he could be a sociopath. Being attracted to him was utterly confusing, and she did not make good decisions in her personal life. This stakeout wasn’t personal, no matter her feelings for Jesse Willard. Having a crush on someone involved with a case didn’t supersede her responsibilities to remain professional and objective.

Annabel drove to Willard’s Farm and parked across from the main farmhouse on a public road. With acres of land, crops, the barns and outbuildings, it was difficult to find a good angle to see everything.

Staying on the main road, Annabel would note who came and went from the farm. She would check license plates and look for anyone off schedule. If Regina was hiding at her brother’s farm, she had to show herself at some point. She’d need to go out, if for no other reason than to search for victims or to mail more sicko letters to Matthew Colton.

Annabel had checked the aerial view of the farm on a map and didn’t see other access roads, but the data she’d been using was at least three months old. She would circle the property later and see if Jesse had another way onto his property Regina could use to move about discreetly.

Annabel made herself comfortable and tried not to think about someone creeping up behind her. Her undercover police vehicle had extra mirrors to give her a 360-degree view around the car, but she couldn’t look everywhere at once. Chief Murray had sent her out alone. He must believe the chances of someone approaching her were slim. She agreed with that assessment, but being farther from town in a location she wasn’t familiar with made her uneasy.

She settled into her seat and focused. It was ten minutes before two in the afternoon. According to the police department’s file on Jesse Willard, his farmhands changed shifts at two. As cars drove up the road and turned into the driveway, Annabel scrawled notes. A few minutes later, other cars left the ranch.

Regina could be hiding in one of the cars, and Annabel was tempted to stop the vehicles and search them, but Chief Murray had been clear. She was only to watch. If she had suspicions about more going on and that someone, Jesse or a farmhand, was hiding Regina, she would report it and return with a proper search warrant. Or rather, another officer would. Since Annabel’s last name was Colton, any evidence she found would be subject to question by a decent defense attorney. A lawyer could claim she was emotionally invested in the case and lacking impartiality. Though Annabel knew the difference and wouldn’t make a legal mistake that could cause Regina to go free, it was better to do as Chief Murray asked.

They would find Regina and not make mistakes along the way. The case would be strong, and Regina would spend the rest of her life in prison. At least she would as soon as they located her.

Willard’s Farm was well maintained. Annabel recalled the farm ten years ago when it had been a nonproductive, run-down eyesore. The former owner had lived on the farm his whole life, and after he passed, he had no family to leave it to and the land was sold.

Jesse obviously took pride in his farm and his home. The farmhouse looked as if it had a new roof and a fresh coat of paint on the exterior, the shutters shining in the afternoon sun. The porch had a few chairs, and the gardens around the house were tidy and blooming with pink and purple flowers.

Behind the house, extending as far as she could see, the rows of crops were lush and green. The barn was painted red, and farmhands were moving around the property with purpose.

Could Jesse Willard be hiding his sister? Family was important. The Coltons had been separated when they were children. Annabel hadn’t stopped longing for and looking for her brothers. They had been sent to different foster homes across Blackthorn County, and it had been difficult to keep in touch.

Annabel had reconnected with Chris in high school. Despite the initial distance and awkwardness between them, she and Chris had gotten along well. He had even assisted her with a bully in high school who had been pestering her and whose harassment had turned physical.

She and Chris had located the rest of their family after high school. Only Josie was still missing.

Josie had wanted nothing to do with them. Annabel had thought she would outgrow it. The family had been through a lot, and as children and then teenagers, they’d each had their personal struggles in coping with their father’s crimes and the death of their mother and dissolution of their family. Their experiences in foster care had run the gamut, and life had been hard for each of them in different ways. Only Josie hadn’t come around.

If Josie came knocking on her door needing help, Annabel would assist her without questions. Is that how Jesse felt about his sister?

Annabel’s attention caught on a woman walking across the property. She had her hair pulled up into her hat, but she was the right build for Regina. Annabel used her binoculars to get a better look at the woman’s face. The woman stopped in front of the house, and Jesse Willard came down the steps. They didn’t touch, but a warm familiarity existed between them. Was she his girlfriend? If she was, why did that make Annabel both jealous and disappointed? She and Jesse weren’t dating. Annabel brushed aside the ridiculous notion and ignored the flip-flop of her belly thinking about Jesse taking her out.

Then the woman removed her hat, and locks of brown, curly hair fell down to her shoulders. When she angled her face, Annabel could see this was not Regina Willard. The woman was too young. Regina could be in disguise, but no disguise was that good.

Annabel’s heart caught in her throat when Jesse looked in her direction. He did a double take, and his shoulders fell. Would he talk to her? Ignore her? Should she approach him? Though she had been clear on her assignment, seeing him made that clarity disappear. All she wanted was to talk to Jesse Willard.

* * *

“I have a call into the vet about Misty,” Grace said. “Her hair has lost its luster, and she’s been acting strange.”

Jesse had noticed his mare’s change in behavior, too. She was lethargic and tired too often. He’d tried changing her diet, but it hadn’t helped. “Thanks. Let me know what the doc has to say.” When he knew what was wrong and could fix it, he would stop worrying.

Jesse had given Grace alternative assignments, but she still looked tired. She hadn’t complained, but he had another idea. “I’m planning to hire someone to help me around the house. It’s getting to be too much. I’ve been working on the remodel of the carriage house, and it’s taking a lot of my time. You want to try switching up your duties?” Working in the house would keep her out of the hot sun and away from backbreaking work. If she put up her feet on the couch from time to time, he was good with that.

Grace inclined her head. “Do you feel obligated to offer because I’m pregnant?” She set her hand over her stomach protectively.

Not obligated. But he was a good boss, and he valued her as an employee. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and you’ve risen to every challenge.”

“Are you saying working in the house would be a challenge?” Grace asked.

“Being closer to me and putting up with my grumpiness? I would say that, yes, that would be a challenge for anyone,” Jesse said.

Grace threw her arms around his neck. “You’re a good man, Jesse. I would be happy to help you with running your house. Thanks.”

Jesse hugged her but not too tight. “I’ll have a list of tasks for you tomorrow. Why don’t you head off and pick up Noah from school?”

Grace had arrived at work late and had stayed longer to make up the time. Not at his insistence, but that was who Grace was. Jesse didn’t want to lose her.

“I’ll do that. See you tomorrow.”

As Grace walked toward her car, Jesse looked back at the car parked near the end of his driveway on the public access road. He couldn’t see the driver with the glare of the sun against the window. He didn’t get many visitors to the farm. The last uninvited visitors had been the FBI, who had questioned him at length about his sister.

Were they back? Or was it a media outlet poking around about Regina? He’d hoped it was a lost tourist who would check their GPS and move on, but clearly that wasn’t the case. It had been a solid five minutes, and the car remained rooted in place.

Jesse didn’t want to be harassed. He didn’t want his employees hassled. Any altercation made the situation worse. He was the owner of the farm, and while diplomacy wasn’t on his mind, he forced himself to appear calm. When he was younger, he’d been a hothead, and that behavior only led to trouble. Deciding to play nice, he went inside the house, brewed a cup of coffee and carried it down the driveway.

The mug had his farm’s name on it, Willard’s Farm, and whoever was in the car could drink the coffee and keep the mug as long as they left him alone.

He glanced both ways before crossing the street. When he was closer, he had his first view of the driver. He almost spilled the coffee down his jeans. The police officer from the precinct he’d seen again at the All Night Diner was seated in the car, watching him. He had been thinking about those blue eyes for days.

What were the chances this was a social visit? He guessed next to nil.

He motioned for her to roll down her window. Keeping his relationship with the police and FBI friendly had been his intent, and now that he saw who was watching him, he was glad it wasn’t a reporter. This was an opportunity to talk to the pretty policewoman. Perhaps he could charm her into seeing his side of the situation.

“Good afternoon. I thought I would properly introduce myself. I’m Jesse Willard.”

“I know who you are, Mr. Willard. This is your farm. I’m Annabel Colton.”

Her last name was familiar, too. Same name as the detective in the GGPD and the FBI agent who had grilled him for hours about Regina and who were related to Matthew Colton, a serial killer serving a life sentence in prison. It seemed in Granite Gulch, investigations were a family affair.

He extended to her the cup of coffee. “Thought you might like this. Push through the afternoon lull.”

She reached out and accepted the mug. “Smells good.”

So did she. Even with the aroma of coffee in his nostrils, a light floral fragrance wafted from the car, her scent.

“I can’t drink much, though. No facilities,” she said, nodding at the car.

He leaned on the roof of the car, trying to look cool and figuring he missed it by a mile. She was under his skin, and he wanted to open the car door and pull her into his arms. Slender and strong, a combination he liked. He bet she held her own. “Planning on being here long?”

She nodded.

A stakeout? She was spying on him. “Tell me what you’re looking for, and I’ll save you a lot of time and trouble.” He already knew, but he wanted her to say it plain.

“We’re looking for your sister, Regina Willard.”

Annoyance plucked at him. “Regina is my half sister, and she isn’t here. The police and the FBI have scoured every inch of my farm. I haven’t seen her in six years. I’ve tried contacting her directly and through friends, and I can’t reach her.”

Annabel frowned. “She might turn up.”

“Unlikely. Regina and I aren’t close.”

Annabel took a sip of the coffee. “Thanks for the drink.”

She sounded as if she was ending the conversation, and he wasn’t ready to let this go. He didn’t want her outside his farm spying on him, and it bothered him immensely that she was working against him. “I already told your kin if Regina shows up, I will encourage her to speak with you all.”

“I know what you told my brothers.”

Her brothers had likely told her that he was the brother of a murderer. They were wrong on that count, and it bothered Jesse that her opinion might be shaded by theirs.

Why did the FBI and police want to pin this mess on him and Regina? He had nothing to do with Regina, and he didn’t believe she had anything to do with the murders. “I’ve been cooperative and helpful. I’ve been a good sport about this. But it’s costing me business, and if folks see you sitting outside my farm, that makes me look bad, like I’ve done something wrong.”

He saw compassion flicker across her face. Would she give up on the stakeout and report the truth to her superiors and her brothers? Regina was not on the farm.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Willard. I’m doing my job.”

“How can I make you understand? The last time I spoke to my sister, she was a bitter, angry woman. She thinks the world is out to get her, and she’s more likely to be hiding in her apartment somewhere binging on wine and television than doing the things you have implied she’s done.”

Things that made him sick to think about. Killing innocent women based on their names? Only a crazy person would see logic in that, and while Regina was sad, and he suspected clinically depressed, she wasn’t homicidal.

“Do you know where this apartment may be?”

He had been speaking generally. He didn’t know where Regina was. How many times and how many different ways could he say it? “I want to clear the air more than almost anyone in Granite Gulch. Regina’s had a hard life, and she doesn’t need this extra stress.”

“Hard life how?”

Guilt and protectiveness rose up inside him, creating a volatile cocktail that felt like anger. “Our father was not a nice man.”

“Lots of people have parents who are terrible. It doesn’t excuse committing a crime.”

She spoke as if it was a done deal, and she was sure Regina was guilty. Regina didn’t cope with things well. She hid and buried her head in the sand. If she had heard the police wanted to speak with her, that would only make her withdraw further inward.

He wouldn’t betray Regina by revealing family secrets, by telling Annabel the types of abuse his mother had rescued them from. Jesse carried a lot of guilt that his mother had left Regina behind. She had said she didn’t have a choice, but at the time, Jesse had wanted his big sister to flee with them more than anything.

“Regina found happiness with someone as an adult, and he left her. She didn’t handle it well.” When Regina had been in a relationship, one that had seemed stable, it was the first time Jesse recalled seeing Regina smile and laugh. He had been worried when the engagement ended. Regina had her wedding gown and had seemed happy to be getting married. She would have had a chance to have a family and do the things she had been denied. A loving, attentive mother and a gentle, yet firm father who ate dinner together and took family vacations to the lake. Granted, Regina hadn’t said she wanted those things, but Jesse had imagined her new life being happy.

“What do you mean she didn’t handle it well?” Annabel asked.

He didn’t intend to give Annabel reasons to believe Regina was unstable. “She grieved for the loss of her fiancé. She was obsessed with winning him back. I told her no man was worth the nonsense she was carrying on about, and she should let go. Anything was better than being emotionally attached to someone who didn’t want her in his life. I suggested online dating, therapy, joining a soccer team. But Regina wasn’t ready to move on.” She had been consumed by her anger, and she didn’t want his advice. Not that he was an expert in love. “My dating history isn’t pristine. I was the wrong person to advise her.”

“You have a history of having problems with women you’ve dated?”

She was misinterpreting what he was saying. Her question didn’t sound related to Regina. It sounded personal. He could be misreading her, but he felt something simmering unsaid between them. “Don’t jump to conclusions. I’m not married. Obviously, I don’t have the key to making a relationship work either.”

Annabel frowned, and her eyes narrowed slightly. She looked beautiful when she was thinking. She had a lot going on between the ears.

“Do you remember anything about your sister that would make you think she could harm someone? Maybe her bitterness turned violent? Maybe her emotions boiled over, and she acted out?”

She was weaving a twisted tale, leaping from one conclusion to another, making it sound as if Regina was crazy and violent and capable of murder. He didn’t take kindly to someone talking garbage about his kin, and something in him snapped. “Are you asking me to help you pin those murders on Regina? I won’t do that. I have answered these questions again and again for your brothers. I am done being questioned like a criminal. I have done nothing wrong, and I don’t appreciate the implication that I would break the law and hide someone or that I’m withholding critical information. I know there’s some psycho out there killing women. Do you think I’m indifferent to that?” His mother had been a victim of violence, and violence against women was something he would not stand for. He worried about Grace, with her long brown hair, being a target.

Annabel seemed uncertain what to say. “I’m sure you’re not indifferent to it. But we’re putting all our resources into finding the Alphabet Killer, and we have strong reasons to believe Regina knows something about the murders.”

Jesse tried to put a lid on his anger. “Can you take it or do you just dish it out? You ask me questions about my sister, like I’m supposed to have any rational reasons for why someone would run around Blackthorn County killing women. You’re the cop. Tell me about your father. Does what you know about him follow with Matthew Colton, serial killer? From what I understand, he’s the mastermind behind the Alphabet Killer murders.”

She inhaled sharply. “Matthew Colton has been in contact with Regina Willard. She’s obsessed with him, but he is not directing her to kill anyone.”

If she believed that, she had blinders on when it came to Matthew Colton. Jesse had read about the case online. The media was having a great time connecting the two cases, drawing on similarities between the murders. “Matthew Colton is making you dance like puppets. Why don’t you turn your screws on him? Make him tell you who is doing this.”

Annabel’s expression was icy. “I don’t know where you’re getting your information, but you don’t know the details of this case.”

He had crossed a line bringing up Matthew Colton, but the Coltons felt free to dig around in his life and in his business. Maybe they should get a taste of how it felt. “I get my information from the same screwed-up place everyone in this town goes for news. Rumors and gossip on Main Street.”

“This isn’t about my father. I am here to do my job.” Her voice was low, but the ire in her eyes burned hot. She handed him the coffee mug. “I have the right to be on public property, and I would caution you to remember I am an officer of the law and I will arrest you if you try to impede me.”

Jesse had rattled her, and while it wasn’t his intention, he was irate, too. He could feel the hurt and fury shaking him. Regina wasn’t a murderer. The Colton family turning their attention to her was akin to turning a blind eye to the real killer.

“Maybe the Coltons should spend time thinking about how close to home these murders are and how that might mean you’re missing critical evidence. Blaming me and Regina is deflecting the real issue. A killer is stalking women in Granite Gulch, and you have no way to stop it.”

* * *

Annabel had never been so furious with a person of interest in a case before. Her stomach was tight, and her skin felt hot. Jesse seemed comfortable turning the tables on her and shoving her family history in her face.

Her father was tied to this case, and Annabel was careful about that. She couldn’t link the cases in her mind and see her father’s behavior as Regina’s. Her part in this case was minor, and letting Jesse drag her into a conversation about her father was nonproductive.

No one had ever spoken openly about her father. Her foster families, her classmates and her friends had talked about her father and what he had done behind her back. The few people she’d had a conversation with about Matthew and his crimes were gentle and sensitive, not asking too many questions or hurling accusations.

Was Jesse right? Did she have a blind spot when it came to the Alphabet Killer crimes? Every investigator was subject to their biases and their experiences. Her father’s killings had shaped her life, in some ways for the better and in many ways, for the worse. But the police were following the facts and the evidence. It didn’t matter what Annabel thought. The facts of what had happened and how they could stop the killer before she struck again were all that mattered.

Matthew Colton knew who the Alphabet Killer was, and he had pointed at Regina Willard. What the police and FBI had found in her boarding room in Rosewood had been damning. She had written the alphabet in a permanent red marker, a bull’s-eye drawn beside each letter. News clippings of the killings and the victims had been posted on the wall. Were they missing parts of the story? It was a long shot, but could Regina be investigating the murders? Could she have stumbled on to facts about the case and, realizing she was a person of interest, started building her defense? She was tied to the case and the victims too closely to not be involved.

Annabel couldn’t present Jesse with evidence in an ongoing investigation, but surely he saw the police were not making unfounded accusations. They had followed a process and the evidence.

A few months ago, before Regina Willard’s name had come up in connection to the murders, Annabel had worried her sister, Josie, may have been the Alphabet Killer. Years before, Trevor had tried to gain custody of Josie, but Josie had refused to see her siblings or leave her foster home. When she was seventeen, Josie had disappeared. Her young fiancé had dumped her and had been seen kissing a woman with long dark hair. Long dark hair, like the victims of the Alphabet Killer.

With evidence mounting against Regina, Annabel had been thrilled to have a new lead and a new suspect. More than anything, Annabel wanted to reunite with her sister, and she didn’t want it to be while she was slapping cuffs on her sister’s wrists. Now it seemed Josie was in the clear, and yet she was still in the wind.

Had the FBI and police investigators made the leap to Regina as the Alphabet Killer too quickly without considering the case from every angle? As Annabel worked the facts over, every road led to Regina Willard. Jesse’s denial didn’t mean the police and FBI were wrong.

After staying at the farm until dark, Annabel sent a message to her boss and her brothers she was en route to Granite Gulch. Then she sent a message to Mia, asking to meet at her place and to bring reinforcements, that is, Mia’s latest drool-worthy dessert. Annabel hadn’t shaken the argument with Jesse from her thoughts, and she needed someone to talk to.

Her former foster sister and, in many ways, her soul sister and biggest supporter, Mia Rivera worked at the Double G Cakes and Pies. She was talented in the kitchen and loved experimenting with treats and testing the results on Annabel.

Annabel had been alone with her thoughts for too long. Mia knew how to cheer her up. She could be honest without being brutal and wasn’t afraid to call Annabel out when she was lying to herself or ignoring the truth.

When Annabel drove up to her house and saw her kitchen light on, her mood lifted. Mia had a key to Annabel’s place. Annabel imagined the sweet smell of Mia’s dessert, and she felt better knowing her dear friend would steer her in the right direction.