Читать книгу Hostage At Hawk's Landing - Rita Herron - Страница 15

Melissa ducked to the side of the window, glass spraying as it shattered.

“Stay down!” Dex shouted.

She pressed herself against the front wall, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. Dex pulled a gun from his back pocket and fired through the hole in the window.

Inside, footsteps pounded and noises echoed as if someone was turning over furniture. Dex motioned for her to stay where she was, and he inched closer to the window and looked inside. Banging, then a man’s voice, and another bullet whizzed by Dex’s head.

Melissa screamed as he ducked to avoid being hit. He covered her head with his arms to shield her as another bullet flew past and more glass rained down on the front stoop.

She clung to Dex, the two of them hovering low until a few seconds later, the sound of an engine rent the air. The black sedan in the back parking lot shot around the side of the building, roared past, then flew onto the street.

Dex jumped up and gave chase, firing at the car’s tires, but the vehicle screeched forward and disappeared.

Melissa stood on shaky legs as Dex ran back to her. “Are you all right?” he asked breathlessly.

She nodded, the realization that she’d been involved in two shootings in two days sending shock waves through her. “Are you?”

“Yeah.” He removed his Stetson, scrubbed a hand through his shaggy hair, then set the hat back on his head with a grunt. “I couldn’t get the license plate.”

“What’s going on?” Melissa asked, trying to piece together what had happened.

“I don’t know, but I’m damn well going to find out.” He wiggled the doorknob on the front door, and the door squeaked open.

As soon as they entered, Melissa could see that the office had been ransacked. The space consisted of a small entryway with a desk and a door leading to the back. Through the doors, they found the main office, a large space with an oversize metal desk, filing cabinet and rolling desk chair. The filing cabinet drawers stood open, papers were scattered all over the desk and floor as if files had just been dumped, and the space on the desk where a computer should have been was empty.

“Either he had his laptop with him or someone took it,” Dex mumbled.

Melissa scanned the disheveled room. “What do you think they were looking for?”

Dex shrugged. “Who knows? Something to do with one of his investigations.”

“You think it was the person who hired him to find Jim Smith?”

“That’s possible. With McTruitt dead at Smith’s hands, whoever that was might not want his name to come out.”

“Or his motive,” Melissa said. “Do you think McTruitt was sent to kill Jim?”

Dex’s dark gaze met hers. “Maybe. If he had a file on Smith here, that would help.” Dex walked over to the desk, pulled on a pair of gloves and started rummaging through the scattered papers.

Melissa shifted, but stooped down on the floor to help search. He tossed her a pair of latex gloves, and she yanked them on. The fact that the person shooting at them might have already found that information and taken it was a real possibility.

But maybe they’d interrupted the intruder before he’d found it, and she and Dex would turn up something helpful.

* * *

DEX GRITTED HIS TEETH. He should call Lamar, but first he wanted to look around. He scoured through the papers on the desk, searching for any signs of suspicious activity, specifically anything with Jim Smith’s name on it or notes referencing the reason McTruitt was looking for Smith—and why he’d held Melissa at gunpoint to get to him.

According to Melissa, Smith hadn’t pulled a gun on McTruitt. It was the other way around, which meant that McTruitt either thought Smith was dangerous, or whoever had hired McTruitt to find Smith wanted him badly enough to tell him to use force.

Or...what if he’d been hired to kill Smith?

Ordering a hit would mean someone had motive.

There were pages of notes on old jobs, mostly cheating spouses, a couple of runaway teens, a case of a stolen dog, and other miscellaneous cases, nothing big or criminal.

“Do you see anything?” Melissa asked.

“Nothing on Smith. You?”

She shook her head and stood, then walked over to the wall and studied a photograph of McTruitt with a group of fishing buddies. Dex glanced at it, then strode to the filing cabinet and shuffled through the files.

The man may have had a computer, but he kept files alphabetized old-school style, with scribbled handwritten notes inside. Again, nothing on Smith.

On a whim, he checked the H section, hoping that the man had information on his father, but no file for Hawk. He started to close the file cabinet drawer, but a business card was stuck in the edge, so he yanked it out.

It was a card for a cattle auction site run by a rancher named Vance Baxter. Dex frowned. He’d heard of Baxter. The man’s business was booming. He worked with an expert breeder to raise prize studs.

He wondered why McTruitt had the card in his file, but didn’t see how it related to Smith or his own father. Still, he jammed it in his pocket.

Time to call Lamar and tell him about the shooting.

“We’d better step outside.” Dex took Melissa’s arm. “I have to report this to the police. I don’t want him to know we were snooping around in here.”

Melissa nodded. “You and Detective Lamar are friends?”

Dex shrugged. “He took me under his wing a few years ago. Since then, he’s thrown a few cases my way when he hit a dead end and manpower on the force was spread thin.”

Melissa frowned.

“You don’t like him, do you?” Dex asked.

Melissa shrugged. “I guess I’m not as trusting of cops as some.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Bad experience from the shelter?”

“And growing up.” A haunted look passed through her eyes, but she clammed up. Dex wanted to ask more, but Lamar answered the call.

“I came out to McTruitt’s office,” Dex said. “Someone was here and ransacked the place, and they shot at me and Melissa.”

Lamar exploded with a string of expletives. “I’ll be right there. And for God’s sake, don’t touch anything, Dex.”

Dex bit back a smile. “Of course not, Lamar. We’re waiting outside.”

Melissa was watching him with avid curiosity when he hung up. “You don’t trust him?”

“I didn’t say that,” Dex said. “But I’m not going to be shut out of this case. If the attack on Smith has anything to do with the other missing transients, I intend to find out.”

* * *

A FEW MINUTES LATER, Melissa stood with Dex on the steps to the building as the detective stalked toward them. Anger slashed his craggy features as his gaze traveled from Dex to her.

She forced herself to remain expressionless. She’d learned not to show fear or to react to the men who came to the shelter or she couldn’t be effective, and she refused to let this man intimidate her.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Detective Lamar growled.

Dex planted his feet apart in a wide stance, his arms crossed. He looked intimidating himself. “You know why. I want answers about my father—”

“Your father drank himself into a car accident,” the detective said with a note of sympathy to his voice. “Why would you think his death is connected to this Smith man or McTruitt?”

A muscle ticked in Dex’s jaw. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s not. But it seems odd to me that I found a card for a shelter in Dad’s truck, then other transients have gone missing, and now this shooting at another shelter.” Dex narrowed his eyes. “Something is going on, Lamar. You have to admit that.”

The detective rubbed a hand down his chin and sighed. “What I think, Dex, is that you still haven’t gotten over the fact that your father left, and that you’re trying to make something where there isn’t anything.”

Dex shrugged. “Maybe so. But you know I’m like a dog with a bone. I don’t quit until I get answers.”

“Then trust me to do my job. If I find out anything related to your father or that these incidents are connected, I’ll bring you in.”

Dex shifted, his jaw tightening. Detective Lamar angled his head toward Melissa. “And you. What are you doing here?”

Melissa forced her voice to remain steady. “I want to know why this PI wanted Jim bad enough to put a gun to my head.”

“She has a point,” Dex interjected.

The detective heaved a breath. “I’m looking into that, but what I don’t need is two civilians interfering.” He gestured to Dex. “Your friend was almost shot last night, and now you come here and are shot at again. This is dangerous, Dex. Take Ms. Gentry home and keep her out of this so she’ll be safe.”

Melissa curled her fingers into her palms and dug her nails into them, a trick she’d learned to control her reaction in confrontational situations. “I asked to come with him,” she said firmly. “Now why don’t you try to find out who shot at us?”

The detective’s brows shot up. “I plan to do that, Ms. Gentry. But it would make my job easier if I’m not distracted by worrying about the two of you.”

Melissa started to retaliate with a retort, but Dex took her arm. “He’s right, Melissa. Why don’t you wait in the car?”

Melissa bit her tongue. She didn’t like taking orders from either man.

She’d been taking care of herself all her life. She couldn’t stop now.

* * *

DEX COULD HANDLE a reprimand, but not in front of someone else, especially a woman he cared about.

Cared about?

Why had he thought that? He’d known Melissa a long time ago, but there was nothing between them now. Except his protective instincts kicked in full force when she was around. And he sure as hell didn’t want to be shut out of this investigation.

He and Melissa both wanted answers. Answers that he would find.

He brushed her back with his hand. “Melissa, please...?”

For a brief second she looked as if she was going to argue, but then she glanced back at Lamar, and nodded. He clenched his jaw as he watched her climb into his SUV.

Lamar was texting on his phone when Dex turned back to him.

“Tell me exactly what happened?” Lamar asked.

“Like I said on the phone, someone was inside when we arrived.” He gestured toward the parking lot. “I spotted a black sedan in the back.”

“Any other vehicles around?”

Dex shook his head. “No. The place was dark inside, except for a flashlight beam. That’s how I knew someone was in there.”

Lamar studied him. “Then what?”

“I looked in the window to see who it was, but then someone started shooting.” He walked over to the window and pointed out the broken glass. “Melissa and I ducked to avoid being hit, then I saw movement inside.”

“Was there one person or two?” Lamar asked.

Dex chewed the inside of his cheek. “One. At least I didn’t see anyone else.”

“How about the car? Anyone inside it when you got here?”

Dex shook his head again. “No. It was empty.”

Lamar scribbled something in his pocket notepad. “Did you see what the shooter looked like?”

“Afraid not. Like I said, it was dark inside. And he ran out the back.”

“License plate on the car?”

“No.” Dex felt like a failure as an investigator. Dammit, he wished he could offer more concrete information. But he’d been too busy dodging bullets and worrying about protecting Melissa to chase the bastard.

Lamar examined the window and peered through the broken glass. He dug a bullet casing from the window edge. “You said he shot at you. Did you fire back?”

Dex didn’t want to answer, but he had to. Lamar’s people would find two different types of bullets when they searched inside.

“Dex?”

“Yeah.” He removed his weapon from the back of his jeans and held it out to Lamar. “I fired twice. You can check.”

Lamar’s gaze met his. “Did you hit him?”

“I don’t think so. I was just trying to warn him off.”

Lamar scoffed. “You know I could haul you in.”

“But you aren’t going to,” Dex said. “Because technically I fired in self-defense. And you, my friend, don’t want to waste time when it’ll go nowhere.”

Besides, he hadn’t really crossed the line.

He would, though, if necessary, to find out the truth about Smith and what was going on with these shelters.

* * *

MELISSA WATCHED THE interchange between Dex and Detective Lamar, her curiosity piqued as to how the two of them had met and become friends.

Her phone buzzed, and she checked the number, expecting it to be her coworker April. Instead the name of the director at another shelter appeared. Candace Fuller from Retreat. She’d once worked closely with Candace and they still had coffee on occasion.

She quickly connected the call.

“Melissa, I heard about the shooting. Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Melissa said, then explained what had happened. “The police are looking for Smith, but I don’t think he’s dangerous. He saved my life.”

“I’m just glad you’re okay.” Candace paused. “There’s another reason I called.”

Melissa tapped her fingers on her leg. She didn’t like the worry in her friend’s voice. “What’s wrong?”

“A man named Bill Small at Retreat thinks something has happened to one of his friends. He claims he disappeared.”

“Did you report it to the police?” Melissa asked.

Candace sighed. “Yes, but they don’t seem concerned.”

Sounded typical. A crime scene van pulled into the parking lot, and she saw Dex heading toward her.

“Why does Bill think something happened to his friend?” Melissa asked.

“He saw the story about some other missing homeless men, and said his friend expressed concern over them, too. He disappeared the next day.”

Melissa’s breath stalled in her chest. “Is Bill still at Retreat?”

“Yes.”

“I’m with a private detective right now, Candace. We’ll stop by and talk to Bill.”