Читать книгу Justice for a Ranger - Rita Herron - Страница 8

Chapter Three

Cole finally dragged his butt into the shower at dawn. He hadn’t slept worth a flip for thinking about the investigation and wondering how his brothers would react to the sight of him. Not that he cared…

And then there had been the fantasies about a certain sexpot blonde that had plagued him all night long.

After their drink, he’d walked her to the inn where they both were staying. Adding more fuel to the flames of his imagination, he learned she was in the room right next door to him, so they’d shared an awkward but titillating moment in the hallway as they’d said good night. Awkward because he’d damn near forgotten his head and kissed her. Titillating because he’d sensed she’d wanted it as much as he had, and that she would have let him.

Then they would have ended up in bed for some mind-blowing sex—at least that’s where the kiss had led in his fertile fantasy—and he would have at least felt sated, if not rested.

Now he just felt irritable and restless.

Because nothing had happened.

He showered and managed to find a razor, wishing he’d had time for a haircut, then cursed himself for worrying about his appearance. He didn’t give a damn what his brothers thought—or anyone else in town.

Grimacing, he dressed in his normal Ranger wear: clean jeans, a white Western shirt, boots, belt and tie. Determined to prove he was a top-notch Ranger himself, he pinned on his badge and grabbed his Stetson and the folder of notes he had collected on the first investigation of Lou Anne Wallace’s murder sixteen years ago. Then he headed to that diner he’d seen last night, to pick up some breakfast before he met the McKinney brothers and the local deputies for a briefing. If he was here to track evidence in the woods, he needed food and coffee, and lots of it.

After all, he had a big advantage over his half brothers. He wasn’t personally attached to Jim McKinney or anyone else in town.

A BLOODCURDLING SCREAM pierced the air and forced thirteen-year-old Joey from her peaceful sleep.

Her mother.

She threw the covers aside, jumped up and ran to the door. But when she swung it open, a thick plume of smoke curled through the hallway. The scent of charred wood and fabric hit her. Oh God, the house was on fire!

Her father…no, daddy was at his house .

She had to get to her mother…but where was she?

And little Justin?

His room was downstairs next to her mother’s.

Joey ran through the fog of smoke, feeling for the banister to help guide her, coughing and choking as she made her way to the door of the nursery. Flames licked the walls in the kitchen and crawled along the floor in the den. The curtains erupted into a ball of fire and sparks flew from the ceiling. Wood crackled and popped, splintering as the table collapsed into flames.

Her mother was already awake, standing at the crib.

Joey’s eyes stung from the smoke. “We have to get out of here!”

Her mother spun around, eyes wild with terror, a crazed expression on her face. “Where’s my baby? What did you do with him? You were supposed to watch him for me!”

Joey’s heart pounded as she rushed forward to check the crib. Little Justin was not inside. Panic stabbed at her chest, robbing her of air. Where was her baby brother? Had he crawled out? Could he be somewhere in the house?

No, please no, the fire…it might have gotten him already. Or he might have inhaled too much smoke…

Her mother jerked her by her pajama shirt and shook her. “Where is he, Joey? Where’s my baby? What did you do with him?”

“Mom! I don’t know. Let me go.” She yanked her mother’s fingers away. “I’ll look for him.”

The scent of liquor permeated her mother’s breath. “Tell me what you did with him!”

Joey’s heart wrenched. “I put him to bed…he was here.” A sob racked her, and heat scalded her face. The fire was slipping toward the hall. They had to get out.

“Please, Mom, call the fire department. I’ll hunt for Justin!”

Her mother threw her hands in the air. “No! He’s gone—he’s not here! Someone took him, I know it!”

“Mother, call the fire department. We need help! And get Rosa!” Joey frantically searched the room and closet to see if Justin might have hidden inside. But no Justin.

Outside, a siren wailed, indicating that someone had phoned the firemen. Probably Rosa. Thank heavens. Now, if she could just find her little brother…

But she couldn’t search with her mother in hysterics, so she dragged her into the hallway. The kitchen was engulfed in flames. She couldn’t go that way. The front door was smoky, the flames licking at the wall casing and rippling a path of fire in front of it. Her heart racing, she glanced around the room for her baby brother, but didn’t see him. Maybe he was in the playroom upstairs.

Suddenly Rosa raced into the hallway, a stricken look on her face. “Hurry! Out the window in my room!”

“We can’t, we have to find Justin!” Joey screamed. “Take Mom outside. I’ll look for him!”

She shoved her mother toward Rosa, and her mother crumbled in Rosa’s arms. Joey lurched toward the steps to search upstairs, but firemen crashed through the front, spraying water. Chaos erupted. One of the firemen grabbed Rosa and her mother, and another one ran toward her.

“Come on, this house is going down!” he yelled. “You can’t go upstairs! No time to save your things!”

“My baby brother…we can’t find him!” Joey cried.

The fireman gently coaxed her toward the other man. “Get out of here now! We’ll find the boy!”

JOEY JERKED AWAKE and sat up, sweating and shaking. Tears rained down her face, the familiar guilt and terror gripping her full force.

The chaos. The firemen hacking away the window, breaking glass. Pushing her mother, Rosa, then her outside. Them collapsing on the lawn and watching in abject shock as the flames engulfed room after room and the house collapsed in front of them.

The firemen eventually appearing through the haze of smoke and debris, looking dazed, frustrated, sorrowful.

Their arms empty. They hadn’t found Justin.

Then her father had driven up, frantic and acting like a madman as he discovered the horror.

For the next forty-eight hours, she and her mother had moved on autopilot. Her mother had had to be sedated. Her father had stalked the police for a report.

Joey had blamed herself. And in every waking or sleeping moment she’d heard her little brother’s cry.

Then finally a small amount of relief. The reports proved that Justin had not been in the fire.

He had disappeared instead.

The theory was that he’d been kidnapped. The fire had been a ruse to distract them.

And then a new kind of terror had seized them. Fear that a monster had Justin. A sexual predator. A child killer. They’d imagined the worst. And then the horrible wait. Hoping and praying for a phone call. A ransom note.

But the note and call had never come.

Which had made them all suspect that something had gone wrong with the kidnapping.

And that Justin was dead after all.

The nightmare had magnified tenfold after that. The police had turned on the family. Questioned them all. Donna. Her father. Even Joey and Rosa.

And eventually they’d accused her father of planning the kidnapping/murder for the insurance money.

Joey swiped tears from her eyes and headed to the shower. Although it had been sixteen years since that day, she still smelled the smoke and sweat on her skin. Still felt the flames singeing her skin, heard her mother’s cries of terror and the accusations she’d hurled. And the image of her father breaking down had been etched in her mind.

Had his tears been real? Or had he planned the disappearance of her brother and his grief had been an act?

Had her brother not disappeared, would her parents ever have reconciled? Not with Lou Anne in the picture…

The very motive the police had attached to her mother years ago.

Donna had cloaked herself in bitterness after the divorce. Mentally Joey recognized the fact that the problems between her parents had driven the family apart long before the kidnapping/murder. But Justin’s disappearance had ended any chance they’d had of reclaiming a normal, civilized relationship.

She would never be free of the guilt.

Her stomach twisted into a knot. She was here to help find the answers.

But heaven help her, she was afraid of what the grand jury might find.

IT HADN’T OCCURRED TO COLE when he’d entered the café that the owner of the Main Street Diner was Joey’s mother. But with her flaming red hair, he’d recognized her instantly from old news photos. Dressed in an immaculate pantsuit with pearls around her neck, she greeted the customers while an Hispanic woman she called Rosa bustled around filling coffee mugs and serving breakfast.

Donna had given him the once-over when he’d first entered, as if she thought she should recognize him but didn’t. And she’d glanced at him with hooded eyes a dozen times since, trying to figure him out.

He hadn’t offered up his identity. Right now his anonymity might play in his favor.

“More coffee?” Rosa asked.

He nodded and thanked her for topping up his cup. “Those biscuits were the best I’ve ever tasted.”

“Gracias, señor.” She strode away with a smile of pride, although when she joined Donna, they disappeared into the back room speaking in hushed voices.

He reread the notes on the kidnapping/murder investigation while he polished off his steak and eggs. Donna Hendricks’s drinking problem, coupled with her husband’s affairs, had led to a bitter divorce and custody battle. Both Joey, thirteen at the time, and Donna’s toddler son, Justin, were caught in the war, but Leland had won custody. Then one night, when Joey and Justin were at Donna’s, a horrible fire had broken out. Rosa Ramirez had been the caretaker/nanny and housekeeper for Donna when Justin had been kidnapped.

Cole had been a teenager himself, but news of the fire and kidnapping/murder of the toddler had been all over TV.

In the police reports, he skimmed Donna’s statement. Then Leland’s. Donna had been despondent over her son’s disappearance and the possibility of his death. She’d nearly had a breakdown and had been treated for depression. Leland had appeared to be distraught, had vowed to find his son and pay for his return, no matter the cost. Both had vehemently denied allegations that they were involved in a kidnapping/ murder scheme.

Joey’s interview had been the tale of a traumatized teenager. A kid who’d tried to save her drunken mother and find her baby brother in the midst of a blazing fire. A kid who probably still had nightmares of that night.

Then the speculations had started. Leland, the big oil baron, had been broke. He’d allegedly concocted a fake kidnapping/murder in order to collect on a life insurance policy. Donna had testified against her ex.

Leland had blamed Donna, and claimed that if she’d been sober, she might have heard someone break in and take their toddler.

They’d waited on a ransom note, one that hadn’t arrived. The police had grown suspicious, then finally they’d decided the fake kidnapping/murder had turned sour.

More details on the family dynamics had been disclosed. Lou Anne Wallace, Leland’s second wife, had been spoiled and supposedly married Leland for his money. She had her own kids, Anna and Sarah, and didn’t want custody of Joey or Justin. She especially hadn’t wanted a screaming two-year-old. And she’d never given up her affairs.

Cole grimaced. He imagined how miserable Joey must have felt, then clenched his jaw—he had to stop thinking about Joey Hendricks.

But her mother, Donna, was another story. She’d hated LouAnne Wallace for marrying Leland. Donna had speculated that since LouAnne hadn’t wanted the kids around, she had helped Leland with his scheme. Others suspected Leland murdered LouAnne because she intended to go to the police about his illegal plan.

But no one knew the truth.

Then Sarah Wallace had come to town a few days ago, supposedly with new evidence, but she’d been murdered before revealing the details.

All roads led back to the kidnapping/murder of Justin Hendricks. If they found out the truth about that night, they’d find the answers to the Wallace women’s murders.

The door creaked open, and he froze with his coffee cup midway to his mouth as Joey walked in. She looked gorgeous and sexy as hell. Her long blond hair was pulled back in a clip at her nape, and she wore jeans that outlined those long legs and her tight butt, and a soft, feminine blouse that gaped above her cleavage. His mouth watered.

Last night she had admitted she hadn’t spoken to her parents in years. He wondered what kind of fireworks would fly this morning between her and Donna.

What exactly did Donna Hendricks know about her son’s disappearance and the murders of the Wallace women?

JOEY HAD BRACED herself to see her mother, but the sight of Donna holding a coffeepot, looking so domestic, nearly bowled her over.

She didn’t know this woman at all.

Her mother had been a sloppy drunk. Joey had rescued her from brawls, helped her stagger inside the house when she’d passed out on the lawn, cleaned up her messes and put her to bed.

She’d also dragged her away from the nasty fights with her father, Donna screaming that her father was a lying, cheating bastard, Leland shouting back that Donna was a drunken whore.

Her mother glanced up at the door, then saw her and visibly paled.

Joey’s throat constricted. What had she expected? For her mother to race toward her with open arms and a welcoming hug? For forgiveness for not taking better care of Justin? For the unconditional love she’d never offered?

The room grew quiet, tension vibrating through the diner that smelled of hot sausages, coffee and cinnamon rolls. Her stomach roiled. Steeling herself against the small-town gossip and whispers, she glanced across the room, searching. For what she didn’t know. A familiar face? An old friend?

Not that she had any here.

Then she spotted Cole McKinney. In a sea of strangers, he looked like the least vicious of the sharks.

Heaven help her, but she headed straight for his table. Her legs felt shaky, and she clutched the table edge, then slid into the chair across from him without waiting for an invitation. He cocked one dark brow, then offered her a sideways smile of understanding. Her heart fluttered wildly, and she felt like kissing him.

Ridiculous.

Then again, she’d struggled with that same feeling the night before. A temptation she had resisted.

For good reason, too. She had no time for a fling or romantic entanglement, especially with Cole McKinney.

Although the first part of the night she’d spent fantasizing about what might have happened if she had relented. One hot kiss would have led to another. Then tawdry, naked, wild sex.

“Good mornin’,” he said in a sexy drawl.

Was it? She wanted to growl. She’d heard him next door tossing and turning and pacing the floor the night before, as well.

She had to inform the Mathesons that the inn walls needed better insulation against the noise.

She nodded anyway, though, unable to speak. Her voice was lost somewhere in between fantasies of Cole, the tremors remaining from her nightmare this morning and the stunned look on her mother’s face.

Donna slowly walked toward her.

Joey swallowed, then noticed the files that Cole shoved into a folder. Files about the murders. Files about her missing brother. An old photo of her and her parents at the police station being questioned after Justin’s disappearance.

His solemn look told her he understood her discomfort.

He had no idea. She was behaving irrationally. Running to him as if he was her friend. As if he could save her from herself and her family when he’d come here to investigate every last one of them.

Cole McKinney had no real connections to the town or her family. If he found any dirty secrets hiding in the closet, he would have no qualms about exposing them.

No, he wasn’t her friend. Couldn’t help her.

No one could.