Читать книгу Colton And The Single Mum - Jane Godman - Страница 12

Chapter 3

Two days had passed since the dog show and Esmée congratulated herself that she hadn’t contacted Brayden during that time. The temptation had been almost overwhelming, but she had resisted for a number of reasons.

The first was that he had made it clear he didn’t wish to speak to her. The man had to be dealing with a world of pain right now. She had caught some of that in his expression before he lowered his shades. She had also heard it in his voice. The last thing he needed was for her to disrespect his wishes and trample roughly over his feelings. Esmée hadn’t given up on her desire to talk to him, but she worked within a strong code of ethics. She wasn’t going to try to coerce him into it.

Her hope was that, once he saw other people opening up to her and became aware that she was treating his sister’s story with sensitivity, he would change his mind. If he didn’t? She would take her research in another direction. She’d done it before. A documentary of this kind took a long time to make and there would be many twists and turns along the way. Right now, it felt like Brayden was her starting point, but that could change.

An approach to the subscription TV company that had bought the documentary about the murders in the Welsh farming community of Glanrafon had proved promising. They were keen to work with her again and loved the Red Ridge idea. Viewing figures for What Remains had been phenomenal and it had won several prestigious awards. Esmée’s terms were simple—a good price and total artistic control over her work.

Her second reason for keeping her distance from Brayden was more personal. Rhys was talking. She wanted to hold her breath every time he spoke in case he stopped again. The remarkable thing was that he was good at it. All that listening to Esmée must have paid off. He was speaking in simple sentences, his vocabulary was good and he could pronounce most words well.

Esmée had called both his speech therapist and psychologist to discuss this new development. The speech therapist had been encouraging.

“You know what to do as well as I do. Give him a context to talk. Keep modeling what to do. Ask him questions. This is the turning point—it will all move forward from here.”

The psychologist, while also optimistic, had added a word of caution. “You say this started with a dog? Make sure Rhys doesn’t develop a reliance on the animal.”

“He’s been talking just fine without Echo,” Esmée had explained as she watched Rhys eating the cookie he had asked for. Not signed. Not gestured. Asked.

“Just something to be aware of.”

While Esmée had no doubt that Echo had been the trigger for Rhys to start talking, she didn’t believe that his continuing recovery depended on the dog. Even so, he had several times asked the same question.

“See Ko?”

“Echo is busy. He has to work.” Although Rhys had accepted the explanation, his disappointment had been obvious. Once or twice, he had asked to see the picture of Echo on Esmée’s cell phone. And, after watching Brayden and Echo demonstrate their search-and-rescue skills at the dog show, Rhys had developed a love of playing hide-and-seek. It was his new favorite activity, and even when Esmée couldn’t join in, he played hiding games with his toy animals.

His interest in Echo turned Esmée’s thoughts toward the future. Maybe it was time to put down roots. Her own nomadic childhood had been happy, but she wasn’t sure she wanted the same thing for Rhys. And if they settled in one place, they could get a dog of their own. She was becoming drawn to the concept of a pet as a form of therapy.

How about a tall, handsome cop? Was there a therapeutic role for one of those in her life? She shook aside the thought as soon as it appeared. There was no room for any man in her life. Period. She had messed up in a big way with Gwyn. The only thing she didn’t regret about that part of her life was that it had brought her Rhys. Her son was everything to her. Even though her relationship with his father had gone horribly wrong, she could never wish it hadn’t happened.

The experience had changed her in so many ways. She supposed the blithe, pleasure-loving person was still inside her somewhere, but that part of her remained well-hidden these days. Rhys was her priority. Even if she had any inclination to start dating again, there was no way she would risk unsettling him by introducing a new father figure into his life. It was just as well she had no interest in men.

Or she hadn’t...until Brayden Colton had appeared on her horizon. And that was yet another reason not to contact him. Esmée couldn’t be sure, if she did get in touch with him, that she would be doing it for the right reasons. Yes, she wanted to talk to him about Demi, but she was honest enough to admit to a strong desire to see him again. It was an unexpected and dangerous attraction, one she wasn’t willing to pursue. It was probably a good idea to steer clear of Brayden and take her research in a different direction for the time being.

With that in mind, she had pursued a few other leads. One of those had been an interview with the owner of Bea’s Bridal. The store, located among the fancy boutiques and restaurants of Rattlesnake Avenue, had been temporarily closed. It was another sign of the Groom Killer’s impact on the town. No one wanted to be seen ordering wedding gowns in Red Ridge right now. Grooms-to-be were not safe.

Just a few miles away from Rattlesnake Avenue, there was another, very different side to Red Ridge. Located in a run-down part of town, the Pour House was the notorious bar owned by Rusty Colton, Brayden and Demi’s father. Hester had watched Rhys the previous night while Esmée made a visit to that interesting establishment. It had helped clarify a few aspects of her potential story.

Rusty was a large, loud personality who had four children, all with different mothers. Although the half siblings had been raised near each other in the poorer part of town, their mothers didn’t get on and the kids hadn’t been close as they grew up. Observing Rusty as she sipped her soda in a quiet corner of the bar, Esmée couldn’t picture him as a loving father.

She would need to speak to him, of course, but she hadn’t approached Rusty for his views about his daughter’s guilt and her disappearance. Part of her preparation was about getting a feel for the key characters in her story. Even so, word had already gotten out about who she was, and a few people had come forward to give her their opinions. If she went with what she had so far, she would be on her way out of town already, the story of Demi’s guilt all neatly packaged up.

What had surprised her was that most of the people who were keen to give her their theories about Demi’s involvement were members of the Gage family. It hadn’t taken much research to uncover that there was a century-old feud between the Coltons and Gages. In the Groom Killer case, the first victim had been a Gage, the suspect a Colton. These new murders were a fresh wound on top of an older hurt.

Esmée wasn’t an investigator. When Demi was found, it would be up to the legal system to determine her guilt or innocence. Esmée’s story would be about the people, the town and the impact of the murders. It was about Jack and Sarah and the other couples whose hopes and dreams had been torn apart by a killer who didn’t want to see them make it down the aisle. It was about the Gage-and-Colton feud and why this place couldn’t move on from that. It was about the welcome she had received from the people of this pretty mountain town and the contrasting raw pain she could feel beneath.

She and Rhys took their cereal out onto the porch of their tiny bungalow. The Red Ridge Bed-and-Breakfast was situated right on the edge of town, close to the winding trail that led to the lower slopes of the Coyote Mountains. Comprising eight wooden guest cabins arranged around a grass lawn, the place had been the most comfortable of those Esmée had viewed. The owner, Wendy Gage, was a distant cousin of Bo, the first victim of the Groom Killer, and a firm believer in Demi Colton’s guilt.

Although breakfast was provided each morning in the main house, Esmée and Rhys had only tried it once.

Rhys wasn’t a picky eater, but faced with a plate piled high with sausages, eggs, bacon and muffins, he had struggled to finish. Wendy had made a comment that her kids would have been made to sit at the table until the last mouthful was gone. It had taken every ounce of diplomacy Esmée possessed not to respond. Instead, she had informed Wendy that she and Rhys would make their own arrangements for breakfast in the future. The proprietor’s initial outrage had been appeased when she realized Esmée was still prepared to pay the full bed-and-breakfast rate.

It was a beautiful day, and the view was perfect. Across to her right, rolling fields of farmland and ranch land stretched away into the distance. To her left, up close, thick trees bordered the Coyote Mountain range.

She wondered what it would be like to grow up in a place like this. Esmée’s own upbringing had been unconventional. Her father had died when she was seven and, from then on, her mother had followed the stories she needed to write her bestselling books. If they stayed anywhere long enough, Esmée attended a regular school. If not, she was homeschooled. But Portia wasn’t a traditionalist. Esmée learned as much from the outdoors as she did from her lessons. The long hikes her mother had taken her on when she was a child meant walking was in her blood.

No matter where she was, no matter what the weather, Esmée still got the cravings. Those mountains were calling to her now. There were a few people she had planned to call, a couple of locations she wanted to visit. Nothing that couldn’t wait.

Rhys was at an in-between age. He enjoyed walking, examining every leaf, bug, rock and stick, just the way Esmée had once done. Because he wasn’t capable of a sustained level of exercise, Esmée had a carrier so she could lift him onto her back when he started to tire.

“Shall we go for a hike?” She pointed to the trail that led toward the trees.

“Boots.” Rhys pointed to his bare feet. “Hat, screen, water...”

Esmée laughed. He was listing the items she always told him they needed for a walk. Her insistence on telling him every little detail had paid off. “Yes, we need all of those things. Especially the hat and sunscreen on a day like today.”

As they went inside to get ready, she thought about the different emotions this place brought up. She had faced heartache from the first instant she had arrived in Red Ridge, with Jack’s death. Even so, she felt more at home here than in any other place she had stayed. Was it time to think about staying in one place for a while? She looked back at the tranquil view. Even with the undercurrents, Red Ridge had plenty to recommend it.

* * *

Brayden’s role was straightforward. He was the lead search-and-rescue, or SAR, officer. If Frank Lanelli, the Red Ridge Police Department dispatcher, got a 911 call indicating a person, or group of people, may be lost or in danger, he immediately liaised with Brayden, who then took charge of the mission.

The situation dictated the response. The Coyote Mountains were an attractive tourist destination and most calls were about hikers who had wandered off the trail. Brayden and Echo could deal with those alerts without any additional assistance. Sometimes things were more serious. All the K-9 teams had a basic level of search-and-rescue training and, now and then, it was necessary for Brayden to mobilize a larger force. That usually happened if the weather conditions were poor, or the search continued for several hours.

There were occasions, of course, when the problem was just too big, or too dangerous. It didn’t happen often. When it did, he needed to call in other emergency agencies. Brayden and Echo went on regular training courses with other SAR teams, as well as medical services, the National Guard and helicopter rescue crews.

Brayden spent a few hours at the start of each day in the training center. Together with Danica Gage, he had devised a program that kept Echo’s skills up-to-date and the dog’s fitness in peak condition. They reviewed the activities each month, looking at how Brayden and Echo worked together, analyzing the success of recent missions and comparing what they were doing to the work of SAR teams elsewhere.

When training was over, if Frank hadn’t been in touch, Brayden checked in at the police-department building. Half a mile closer to town than the training center, the pleasant, one-story, redbrick building was the headquarters for twenty-four officers, plus the twelve officers of the K-9 team. When he wasn’t out on an SAR case, Brayden was a regular cop. The only difference was, he kept Echo with him at all times so they were ready to go as soon as a SAR call came in.

The chief’s message had gotten through to Brayden. If he was going to keep a clear head, he needed to stay away from the Groom Killer case. That meant he was free to focus on the PD’s other big headache—the Larson brothers.

For the past year, the RRPD had been trying to pin something on the dangerous, wealthy and influential Larson brothers. Finn Colton believed the identical twins, Noel and Evan, who were blessed with good looks and easy charm, were running a growing crime empire in the city. Although they had busted a few low-level crooks, whom they suspected of working for the Larsons, the police hadn’t been able to get any of them to name their employers. So far, they had also been unsuccessful in their efforts to find out where the gang stashed their guns, drugs and laundered money.

Lorelei Wong greeted him from the front desk in her usual way, peering at him over the top of her silver-framed glasses as her fingers continued to fly over her keyboard.

“Anything on Richie Lyman?” Brayden asked.

Lorelei flipped through a notepad at the side of her desktop computer. “Nothing.”

Brayden frowned. Richie Lyman was bad news. The worst kind of thug for hire, the guy had a violent streak and enjoyed using it in his work. A known associate of the Larson brothers, the last time Richie had vanished was after a bar fight in the Pour House had landed his opponent in the hospital. When the other guy refused to give evidence against Richie, there were rumors he had been paid off by the Larsons. Richie was valuable to his bosses. The Larsons would rather send him out of town until the heat died down than have him end up in a prison cell. Finding another paid attack dog of Richie’s caliber wouldn’t be easy.

If the Larsons were planning something big, Richie would be in on it. When Brayden had called at the run-down apartment in the poorest part of town to question him, there had been no sign of Richie. Perhaps it wouldn’t have raised alarm bells except for the fact that Richie’s on-and-off partner, Lulu Love, was due to have a baby within the month.

“When you find him, tell him to get his sorry ass back here in time to see his kid being born.” When Brayden had busted Lulu for receiving stolen goods a few months earlier, she had listed her occupation as “exotic dancer.” There had been nothing exotic about her expression as she slammed the door in his face.

That had been almost four weeks ago. Brayden had put an alert out within the PD. Richie wasn’t wanted for a crime, but Brayden wanted to be informed of any sightings of him. Lorelei’s answer had been the same every day.

Brayden couldn’t find any reason for Richie’s current disappearance. Not that anyone within the Larsons’ inner circle was likely to confide in a police officer, of course. He found it strange that Noel and Evan would be without one of their most trusted operatives at a time when they seemed to be stepping up their activities.

A glance at the clock told Brayden it was close to noon. He tried not to involve his father, Rusty, in his job. There were too many personal conflicts arising from being a cop whose father ran the bar where the town’s lowlife criminals congregated. Now and then, a quiet word over the bar was the best way to find out what was going on. This seemed like one of those times.

“If anyone is looking for me, I’m heading out to the Pour House.”

Talking to Rusty about the Larson brothers and their hired thugs was not the way Brayden would have chosen to spend the next few hours, but at least it gave him a focus. And he could guarantee it would be a challenge. Something to keep his mind from straying toward the Red Ridge Bed-and-Breakfast. Because ever since he had met her at the dog show, Esmée had invaded his thoughts. He didn’t want her there, had done everything he could to force himself to concentrate on other things. It wasn’t like he had nothing else going on in his life right now.

The newest Red Ridge Gazette story had everyone talking about the latest rumor. Groom Killer Suspect Demi Colton Pregnant! Her Motive Grows Clearer!

Even with that headline setting the town alight, Brayden had been unable to entirely tear his attention away from Esmée. Telling himself it was because of her involvement in the case hadn’t worked. He wanted to see her again. It was a simple truth that made his heart race with a combination of excitement and fear. He had even taken the trouble to find out where she was staying.

It was years since he had last felt this way. That had ended in disaster and public humiliation. He wasn’t naive enough to believe that, having been burned once, he was incapable of feeling attraction again. He just didn’t understand why, after lying dormant for so long, his wayward emotions had to choose such an unsuitable target. Whatever the reason, he knew he had to do a better job of fighting it.

The most important thing he could do was stay out of Esmée’s way and hope she would soon be gone. Every time he told himself that, various reasons to drop by the bed-and-breakfast kept occurring to him. What harm could it do to take Echo to see Rhys? Find out how the little guy was getting on with his talking?

Do the words lame and excuse mean anything to you, Colton?

Undeterred, his mind found another motive for a visit. He should stop by the bed-and-breakfast to see how Corey Gage was doing. The sixteen-year-old son of the proprietor had landed himself in some trouble a few months back after driving his mom’s car into a wall in the early hours of the morning. No one had been hurt and Corey had gotten away with a caution. Privately, Brayden thought facing his mom would be a whole lot worse for Corey than dealing with the law. Wendy Gage was not known for her warm personality.

“Maybe I should forget the excuses. Just turn up with flowers and candy and ask her on a date instead,” he muttered, as he opened the rear door of his car.

Echo jumped inside, his tail thumping loudly in the confined space as he looked up at Brayden with shining eyes.

“I was being sarcastic.”

Echo gave a single, enthusiastic bark in response. Shaking his head, Brayden closed the door and walked around to the front of the car.

Great. Even my own partner thinks I’m a sad loser who needs to be pushed to make a move.