Главная страница | Современная зарубежная литература | Scene Of The Crime: Means And Motive

Scene Of The Crime: Means And Motive
Carla Cassidy
Two hardheaded investigators chase danger—and each other—in New York Times bestselling author Carla Cassidy’s newest Scene of the Crime caseGabriel Walters didn’t need some know-it-all FBI agent charging in on his territory. But Jordon James wasn’t about to let some local police chief derail her, not with three unsolved murders over at the Diamond Cove B&B. If she just immersed herself in the investigation, she could avoid the troubles she’d left back home…and run head-on into some new ones with Gabriel. He didn’t want to discover a fourth victim, which, if the note slid under Jordon’s bedroom door was to be believed, would be her. Now it will take their full cooperation to catch a killer–before they strike again.


Two hardheaded investigators chase danger—and each other—in New York Times bestselling author Carla Cassidy’s newest Scene of the Crime case
Gabriel Walters didn’t need some know-it-all FBI agent charging in on his territory. But Jordon James wasn’t about to let some local police chief derail her, not with three unsolved murders over at the Diamond Cove B and B. If she just immersed herself in the investigation, she could avoid the troubles she’d left back home…and run head-on into some new ones with Gabriel. He didn’t want to discover a fourth victim, which, if the note slid under Jordon’s bedroom door was to be believed, would be her. Now it will take their full cooperation to catch a killer—before he strikes again.
“There is also a killer using this bed-and-breakfast as his personal playground.”
“All the more reason for me to stay here,” she replied.
Gabriel frowned. “I really don’t like the idea. I think it would be much better if you stayed somewhere else.”
“I’ll be fine here. I’m armed and I’m trained. Just get me a key and point me to a room.”
The burn in his gut intensified. Even though he barely knew Jordon, he recognized the stubborn upward thrust of a chin, the resolute shine in her eyes.
The killer was savvy enough not to leave any evidence behind. In savagely murdering three people, he hadn’t made any mistakes that Gabriel had been able to find.
The last thing Gabriel wanted was for FBI Special Agent Jordon James to become the fourth victim.
Scene of the Crime: Means and Motive
Carla Cassidy


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
CARLA CASSIDY is an award-winning, New York Times bestselling author who has written more than one hundred and twenty novels for Mills & Boon. In 1995, she won Best Silhouette Romance from RT Book Reviews for Anything for Danny. In 1998, she also won a Career Achievement Award for Best Innovative Series from RT Book Reviews. Carla believes the only thing better than curling up with a good book to read is sitting down at the computer with a good story to write.
CAST OF CHARACTERS (#u4f137cd9-44d5-5eed-9468-df56eeaa1453)
Jordon James—An FBI agent who has come to Branson to solve a trio of murders. She quickly becomes marked by the killer as the next victim.
Gabriel Walters—Chief of police. Can he protect Jordon from the killer and still hang on to his heart?
Kevin Rollings—The former owner of Diamond Cove. Has his need for revenge turned him into a cold-blooded murderer?
Ed Rollings—Is the handyman really doing his brother’s dirty work?
Ted Overton—Has the present owner of the bed-and-breakfast hatched an evil plot to get his family back where they belong?
Billy Bonds—The groundskeeper has secrets… Is one of them deadly?
To Bob and Jenny Offutt, thanks for the wonderful hospitality we received when we stayed with you at your beautiful resort, Crystal Cove Bed and Breakfast in Branson.
Contents
Cover (#ud6bf8016-d0f1-52ac-b4ea-bcb9edd003c1)
Back Cover Text (#ud8fda46b-28ab-5fec-a128-3646971061ae)
Introduction (#u3bbf367a-6116-5323-9502-4c009cf6ac3d)
Title Page (#uee53f3f7-214d-5fd2-b82c-848b09031f0e)
About the Author (#ubbeac572-fa15-557a-b20e-dab3e10b49ba)
CAST OF CHARACTERS (#u56d339c0-1f61-5adc-b06c-055f4118c53b)
Dedication (#u9ea97341-92e5-55fa-9023-379499366a3e)
Chapter One (#uca6ff8c6-a0f2-583b-a218-d21dfd132dc3)
Chapter Two (#u80ec731d-a922-5171-b074-b6bd99c83b7d)
Chapter Three (#u6e9ff54e-2aac-5d51-ae0e-fbd5a0377da7)
Chapter Four (#uc33a86a7-39d7-566c-a578-e55a58319628)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#u4f137cd9-44d5-5eed-9468-df56eeaa1453)
FBI Special Agent Jordon James hated two things—winter and murder—and she was about to be immersed in the middle of both. She frowned and stared out the small window of the helicopter that had carried her from Kansas City to the rousing tourist town of Branson, Missouri.
When they’d left Kansas City the ground had been winter brown and the temperature had been a balmy forty-five. Unfortunately, as they approached the Branson airport, the temperature had dropped into the teens and four inches of snow had fallen in the small vacation destination overnight.
As the helicopter circled for the landing, visions of a beach with a bright sun, a chaise lounge and a fruity alcoholic drink flirted in Jordon’s head. She’d booked a long-awaited vacation in Florida for the end of next week. Hopefully, this mess in Branson could be cleaned up soon enough that she wouldn’t have to postpone the long-awaited vacation.
She was here only in an advisory position as a favor between her FBI director and the Branson mayor. All she knew was that there had been three murders in as many months committed in a popular bed-and-breakfast. The latest murder victim had been stabbed to death and discovered by a maid in her room the day before.
Jordon played nice with others when it was absolutely necessary, but she preferred to work alone. She had a feeling that Director Tom Langford had tapped her for this job, knowing that she would have to try to work with a police chief who probably didn’t want her here.
“It builds character to step out of your comfort zone.” She wished she had a dime for every time Tom had said that to her in the last couple of years. “Don’t be a cowboy, Jordon. That’s what nearly got you killed a year ago,” he’d reminded her right before she’d left.
The heart-shaped pattern of cigarette-burn scars on her left hip itched as memories of an old cellar and a serial killer named Ralph Hicks flashed in her head.
It had been nearly a year since she’d almost become the sixth victim of the man who had tortured and killed five other women over a six-month period in the Kansas City area. Thankfully, she had been the one who had walked out of that dank, terrifying cellar and Ralph Hicks had come out in a body bag.
The bump of the helicopter touching down snapped her back to the here and now. Jordon thanked the pilot, grabbed her two bags and climbed down to the tarmac, where a uniformed police officer greeted her.
“Agent James, I’m Lieutenant Mark Johnson.” He shouted above the whoop whoop of the helicopter blades as the aircraft took off once again.
He grabbed her bags from her. “Good to have you here. My car is parked over here.” He turned and headed for the parking lot in the distance. An icy gust of wind half stole her breath away as she quickly followed behind him.
Within minutes they were in his patrol car with a steady flow of heated air blowing in her face. “Have you been to Branson before?” he asked when they pulled away from the airport.
“Never, although I’ve certainly heard a lot about it from coworkers who have been here,” she replied. She held her hands up to the air vents and squinted against the late-afternoon sunshine that glared off the snow cover.
At least the highway they traveled had been cleared, but as he turned onto a narrow snowpacked street that headed straight downhill, her breath caught in the back of her throat.
They had gone from city highway to thick woods and a precarious country road with a simple right-hand turn. “Diamond Cove is down this way,” Mark said. “Chief of Police Gabriel Walters is waiting for you there.” He eased up on the gas as the back end of the car slid ominously to the left.
Every muscle in Jordon’s body tensed and didn’t relax again until they had turned into a driveway in front of a cozy-looking log cabin. He parked next to a police car that was already there and shut off the engine.
“Welcome to Diamond Cove Bed-and-Breakfast,” Mark said. “This is the main office and dining area.” He pointed to the right. “As you can see through the trees up on the ridge there are four cabins that hold two suites each. The latest victim, Sandy Peters, was found in her bed in unit three yesterday morning by one of the housekeeping staff.”
Jordon gazed at the four small log cabins with front porches. With the lack of leaves on the trees they were easily visible. Outside each doorway were two rocking chairs for the guests’ pleasure.
In the spring and summer the thick woods that surrounded the cabins would hide them from view. The air would be filled with birdsong and squirrels would provide comic relief with their antics. Those rocking chairs would make perfect perches to nature-watch.
On the surface, the Diamond Cove resort appeared to be nestled on a secluded mountainside and promised peace and seclusion for the city-weary. But the peace had been shattered by three horrendous murders.
Mark opened his car door and Jordon did the same. A gust of frigid air greeted her and snow crunched underfoot as she got out of the car. Once again she thought of the beach and released a frosty, deep sigh.
“Follow me,” he said after grabbing her bags from the backseat.
He bypassed the front door and instead led her around the building on a wraparound porch. They passed a beautiful waterfall that was obviously heated as the water trickled merrily over rocks and into a small pond despite the below-freezing temperature.
They entered the building and stepped into the main dining room. The air smelled of a hint of cinnamon, wood smoke and rich, freshly brewed coffee.
It was a small, cozy area with two long tables draped in elegant white cloths. Fat white candles and crystal salt and pepper shakers marked the center of each table. A bookcase holding preserves, jellies and cookbooks for sale was against one wall, and a fireplace with two chairs added to the homey atmosphere.
Jordon took all of this in with a single glance, for it was the man seated in one of the chairs by the fireplace that captured her full attention.
Chief of Police Gabriel Walters held a cup of coffee in his hand and stared into the flames of the crackling fire. He was apparently so deep in thought he hadn’t even heard them come in.
His black hair was neatly cut and broad shoulders filled out the dark blue uniform shirt. His profile indicated a strong jawline and a perfectly straight nose.
“Chief?” Mark said hesitantly.
He shot up out of the chair and a touch of annoyance flashed across his handsome features. It was there only a moment and then covered by a smile that warmed Jordon right down to her frozen toes.
He might not mean the smile, but it didn’t matter. He wore the gesture well even though it didn’t quite light up the depths of his intense blue eyes.
“Special Agent James... I’m Chief Walters,” he said and took her hand for a firm, no-nonsense shake.
“Please, make it Jordon,” she replied.
He nodded and released her hand. “Jordon it is. Please, have a seat. Can I get you a cup of coffee?”
“That would be great,” she replied. She unzipped her coat, shrugged it off and sat in the chair next to his in front of the fireplace.
He walked over to Mark and spoke so softly to the man that Jordon couldn’t hear. Mark nodded a goodbye to Jordon and left the way they had come.
She watched as Gabriel moved over to a small table that held a coffeemaker and all the accoutrements for all tastes. “Cream? Sugar?” he asked.
“Black is fine,” she replied. The man was definitely hot. He boasted not only wonderfully broad shoulders, but also slim hips and a stomach that didn’t appear to hold an ounce of body fat.
He hadn’t offered her the choice of calling him by his given name and that alone told her he might not be happy to see her. She’d seen him for only a minute and already she had him pegged as intense and probably uptight and rigid.
His physical attractiveness definitely stirred a little fire of heat in the pit of her stomach, but if her suspicions about his personality were right, then she had a feeling it wouldn’t be long before she might want to pinch his head off. Time would tell.
He held the coffee cup out to her and she took it with a murmured thanks. Then he returned to the chair next to her. “I don’t know how much you know about what’s going on here.”
“No real specifics. I was only told that there have been three murders here, the most recent victim discovered yesterday morning.”
He nodded. “Sandy Peters. She was thirty-four years old and a mystery writer. According to the owners of the resort, she came here every year in January to spend a couple of weeks holed up and writing.”
“Married? Divorced?”
“Single, and according to everyone I spoke to yesterday who was close to her, she wasn’t dating anyone,” he replied. “Besides, she was killed in the same manner as the other two victims.”
“Stabbed to death,” Jordon said.
“That’s right. My investigation hasn’t turned up anything the three victims have in common other than they were all guests here at Diamond Cove at the time of their deaths. In fact, they were the only guests here at the time when they were killed.”
Jordon took a sip of the coffee and leaned back in the chair. The warmth and scent of the fire combined with the deep smooth tone of his voice would make it easy to be lulled into a semicoma if they weren’t talking about murder.
She leaned forward and caught a whiff of his pleasant, woodsy-scented cologne. “So, this doesn’t sound like it’s about any specific victimology, but tell me about the other victims anyway.”
“The first one was twenty-five-year-old Samantha Kent. She and her husband had rented a suite just before Thanksgiving to celebrate their first wedding anniversary. She was stabbed to death on a trail near their cabin on a Tuesday morning.”
He grimaced and then continued. “The second victim, Rick Sanders, booked a room a week before Christmas. He was found stabbed in the guest shed. Samantha was a schoolteacher from Kansas City. Rick was a restaurant owner from Dallas who had come here to check out some of the local food. Sandy was from St. Louis.”
Jordon was impressed by how easily he rattled off the pertinent information of each victim without any notes. It meant he’d embraced the victims. They weren’t just dead bodies to him... They were people. She liked that.
She took another sip of her coffee as he continued. “When Samantha was found on the trail, the first person we looked at hard was her husband, Eric. But he had a solid alibi. He’d been here having breakfast with the owners when she was killed and I could find no motive for him wanting her dead.”
“What was she doing outside all alone?” Jordon asked, mentally taking notes of all the information he was giving to her.
“She was an amateur photographer...a nature buff, and according to her husband, she’d decided to skip breakfast on that particular morning to take some photographs. She had a quick cup of coffee here with the owners and her husband to start the day and then she left by herself.”
“Who found her body?”
“Billy Bond, the groundskeeper. When he found her she was still breathing but unconscious and bleeding out. She died on the way to the hospital. According to the doctor, she had been attacked only minutes before she was discovered.”
“So, the killer is probably local and you have no clue as to the motive,” Jordon said.
Gabriel’s lips thinned slightly. “No clue as to who or why. I guess that’s why Mayor Stoddard thought it was important to bring in the big guns.”
A small laugh escaped her despite the obvious displeasure on his face. “Don’t worry, Chief Walters. This gun doesn’t intend to get in your way. You’re the big Uzi and I’m just a little backup handgun.”
She held back a sigh. She’d been here only half an hour and already the very hot chief of police appeared to be attempting to engage her in a spitting match.
* * *
SHE DIDN’T INTEND to get in his way.
But something about FBI Special Agent Jordon James was already under his skin.
As Gabriel led her out of the main cabin and toward the smaller cabins so that she could see each of the crime scenes, his gut twisted tight in frustration.
He hadn’t been happy when the mayor had insisted they get help from the FBI, even in just an advisory position. He’d taken it as a vote of no confidence from the man who was his boss.
Jordon James had said nothing out of line. She’d been a complete professional so far, but while they’d talked he’d had some very unprofessional thoughts roll through his head.
She was strikingly pretty with her short curly dark hair and green eyes that sparked not only a keen intelligence, but with what he sensed was also a glimmer of humor.
When she’d shrugged out of her coat it had been impossible not to notice the length of her legs encased in the tight black slacks and the thrust of her full breasts against the white cotton of her blouse. Even the holster around her waist didn’t detract from her innate femininity.
He’d been living and breathing murder since the first body had been found here almost three months ago. His instant, sharp physical attraction to Jordon had momentarily shaken him.
He now followed her up the wooden stairs that led to the ridge where the cabins were located. At least out here in the cold air he couldn’t smell the enticing flowery perfume that had permeated the air the moment she’d sat next to him in the dining room.
She reached the top of the ridge and turned back to wait for him. When he joined her he pointed to a small structure just to the right.
“That’s the guest shed where Rick Sanders was found.” She fell into step next to him as they approached the building where a cheerful hand-painted Welcome sign hung over the door.
They stepped inside to the tinkle of a little bell, and even though he’d been in the shed at least twenty times since the night that Rick’s body had been found, his gaze took everything in as if it was the very first time he’d been inside the small building.
A bifold door to the left hid a stackable washer and dryer. A round table and chairs to the right invited the guests to sit and relax. Beyond that was another closed door that led to a small storage room.
A counter held a fancy coffeemaker with a carousel of little flavored coffees, and beneath the counter, a glass-doored refrigerator displayed a variety of sodas and bottled water for the guests to enjoy at no cost.
“What a nice idea for the people staying here,” Jordon said.
Gabriel nodded, although his head filled with the vision of Rick Sanders dead on the floor, his back riddled with stab wounds. “He never saw what was coming. It appeared that he was standing in front of the coffeemaker waiting for a hot chocolate when he was attacked from behind.”
She looked up at the bell hanging over the doorway. “He didn’t hear it coming?”
“The bell wasn’t hung there until after his murder,” Gabriel explained. He watched Jordon closely as her narrowed gaze once again swept the room. He couldn’t help but notice the long length of her dark eyelashes and the slightly pouty fullness of her lips.
She opened the door to the storage room, where Gabriel knew the space held only cases of soda, boxes of the little coffee pods, paper napkins and other supplies.
“Okay,” she said and gazed at him with eyes that gave away nothing.
“See anything me and my men might have missed?”
“Yes. In fact, I think I’ve solved the case. It was Colonel Mustard in the library with a wrench,” she replied flippantly. He stared at her in stunned surprise. “Where to next?” she asked before he could even begin to formulate a response.
They exited the guest shed and he led her down a path that would eventually take them to the place where Samantha Kent’s body had been found.
“There’s about seven acres of trails here,” he said.
“Good grief. I hope we aren’t walking them all now.” She pulled her coat collar closer around her slender neck. “I hate this weather. I’ve got a date with a beach in Florida at the end of next week and I can’t wait to get in a bathing suit and enjoy a fruity, fun alcoholic beverage.”
“Then I guess you’ll need to hurry to solve this case in time to get to the beach,” he replied. He took another couple of steps then halted when he realized she wasn’t with him.
He turned around. She stood stock-still, her green eyes narrowed as if he was a puzzling crime scene she was analyzing. “Are you normally a jerk or are you just acting like one especially for me?”
Despite the cold air, a wave of warmth filled his cheeks. “No, I’m not normally a jerk,” he replied. He drew in a deep breath and released it slowly. “But I guess I have been acting like one since you arrived and I apologize.” He had to admit to himself that he’d been a bit antagonistic with her. It wasn’t her fault she was here. She was just doing her job like he was trying to do his.
“Apology accepted,” she said easily and grinned. “Can I expect more jerk from you or are you over it now?”
“I’m not sure,” he admitted. He shoved his hands into his coat pockets. “It’s not you personally.”
Her grin widened. “Trust me, I didn’t think it was about me personally. You haven’t known me long enough to have attitude with me, although I’m sure if I’m here for a few more days that will eventually come.”
He gazed at her curiously. “Why? Are you difficult to work with?”
“I’ll let you draw your own conclusions.” Her smile fell and she wrapped her arms around her chest. “Look, I get it that you probably aren’t happy about FBI presence here. But I am here, and we might as well try to work together to solve these murders. Now, can we get on with this? I’m freezing my tush off.”
And a fine tush it was, Gabriel thought as they continued walking on the narrow trail. Within minutes they were at the spot where Samantha Kent’s body had been found.
“The trees were still fairly full of leaves when she was killed,” he said. “Although you can see the cabins from here now, they weren’t visible at the time of the murder.”
Once again Jordon silently surveyed the scene. “She didn’t scream or cry out for help? Nobody heard anything?”
“Nobody admitted to hearing anything. She was attacked from behind like Rick. She didn’t have a single defensive wound and Billy didn’t see or hear anyone else in the woods when he found her.” The frustration of the cases burned in his stomach as once again his mind provided a memory of this particular crime scene.
Samantha had already been carried away to the hospital by the time Gabriel had arrived on scene, but her blood had stained the autumn leaves where she had fallen, transforming this piece of beautiful woods to a place of haunting, violent death.
“I’ve seen enough,” Jordon said softly.
They were both silent as he led her to unit number three, where Sandy Peters had been found stabbed in her bed.
“Wow. Nice room,” Jordon said after they’d stomped the snow off their boots and stepped inside. They both had donned gloves and bootees, as the room was still officially a crime scene.
“All the rooms are this nice,” he replied. He stood by the door as Jordon wandered the area.
A king-size log bed was the center focal point, along with a stone fireplace and a sunken Jacuzzi tub for two. The bed had been stripped down to the mattress, but Sandy’s suitcase was still open on one of the chairs in front of the fireplace, and a thick pink robe still hung on a coat tree next to the dresser.
He’d kept things intact in the room as much as possible for Jordon’s perusal, although his men had already taken Sandy’s cell phone and computer and the bedclothes into evidence. The room had been gone over with a fine-tooth comb and fingerprinted, so this evening he’d have some of his men clear the rest of Sandy’s things from the room.
Jordon disappeared into the adjoining bathroom and then reappeared and stared at the tub, where a little basket held packets of bubble bath and two wineglasses with a bottle of white wine perched on the tile.
“There was obviously not a struggle.” It was a statement of fact rather than a question.
“And the door wasn’t forced,” he replied. “It appears that she opened the door and was immediately stabbed. She fell backward to the bed and the attack continued there. She was stabbed a total of twelve times.”
A frown danced across Jordon’s features. “Overkill... That indicates a rage.”
He nodded. “The same kind of rage was evident with the other two victims, as well.”
“And the time of death?”
“The coroner placed it between around midnight and five in the morning,” he replied. “Hannah, the owners’ fifteen-year-old daughter, saw Sandy leaving the guest shed at around nine in the evening. She had a soda in her hand and told Hannah she planned on being up late working.”
“What was Hannah doing out and about at that time of night in this weather?”
“One of her jobs here is to make sure the refrigerator is restocked each evening. She was later than usual that night.” He looked toward the window where dusk had moved in. “I’ve arranged interviews with all the staff here to start in the morning at eight. In the meantime, we should get you settled in for the night. I’ve made arrangements for you to stay at a motel not far from here.”
She looked at him in surprise. “Why would I stay at another motel? I’m assuming there are vacant rooms here?”
“Yes, but there is also a killer using this bed-and-breakfast as his personal playground.”
“All the more reason for me to stay here,” she replied.
Gabriel frowned. “I really don’t like the idea. I think it would be much better if you stayed somewhere else.”
“I’ll be fine here. I’m armed and I’m trained. Just get me a key and point me to a room.”
The burn in his gut intensified. Even though he barely knew Jordon, he recognized the stubborn upward thrust of a chin, the resolute shine in her eyes.
The killer was savvy enough not to leave any evidence behind. In savagely murdering three people he hadn’t made any mistakes that Gabriel had been able to find.
The last thing Gabriel wanted was for FBI Special Agent Jordon James to become the fourth victim.
Chapter Two (#u4f137cd9-44d5-5eed-9468-df56eeaa1453)
When they returned to the main dining room, two adults and two teenagers awaited them. Gabriel introduced them as owners Ted and Joan Overton and their two children, fifteen-year-old Hannah and seventeen-year-old Jason.
“I made fresh coffee and some sandwiches,” Joan said as she and her husband jumped up from the table where they’d been seated. She hurried over to stand next to the table with the coffeemaker and twisted her hands together as if unsure what to do next.
“Thank you—I’d love a cup,” Jordon said. “And the sandwiches look wonderful.” Joan’s pretty features lit up as if she was pleased to be able to serve somebody.
“We’ve canceled all of our reservations for the next two weeks,” Ted said. Jordon took a seat across from him and Gabriel sat next to Jason.
“There weren’t that many to cancel,” Joan said as she set a cup of coffee in front of Jordon and then sat next to her husband. “This is our slowest time of year, but reservations had already fallen off because of the bad publicity we’ve received. Social media is destroying us.”
“Your place is lovely,” Jordon said. “How long have you all owned it?”
“We bought it a little over a year ago,” Ted said. “We’d talked about leaving the rat race behind and doing something like this for years, and then this place came on the market as a foreclosure and so we bit the bullet and made the move.”
“Made the move from where?” Jordon asked. She took half of one of the thick ham-and-cheese sandwiches that were on a platter and placed it on the small plate in front of her.
“Oklahoma City,” Ted replied. He was a tall, thin man with dark hair and brown eyes, and his children took after him rather than their shorter, blond-haired, blue-eyed mother.
“Do we need to be here?” Jason asked. His cheeks colored slightly as Jordon turned her gaze on him. “I don’t know anything about what’s happened around here and I’ve got homework to finish.”
Jordon shifted her gaze to Gabriel, who shrugged. She turned back to Jason. “I don’t see any reason for you to hang around here while we talk to your mother and father.” The young man was nearly out of his chair before Jordon had finished speaking.
“What about me?” Hannah asked. “I’ve already told Chief Walters everything I know.”
“As long as it’s okay with your parents, you both can be excused for tonight,” Jordon replied. Hannah also flew out of her chair and pulled a cell phone from her pocket.
“Go directly to the house and no place else,” Ted said.
“Where’s the house?” Jordon asked as the two teenagers left the building.
“Across the street. It came with this property,” Ted replied. “It’s a nice three-bedroom with a lake view.”
“And it has a huge detached garage that’s far enough away from the house that I can’t hear the banging and curses or noises that Ted makes when he’s working on one of the cars or in the middle of a woodworking project,” Joan added.
For the next hour Jordon questioned the couple about the murders, the victims and the daily operation of the bed-and-breakfast.
Gabriel was mostly silent during the conversation. She was grateful he allowed her to go over information she was certain he already knew.
The body language between the couple indicated a close, loving relationship, and Jordon sensed no underlying tension other than what would be deemed normal under the conditions.
By the time they’d finished up, night had fallen outside. “Agent James would like to stay here,” Gabriel said when the interview had wound down. A deep frown cut across his forehead. “That wouldn’t be a problem, would it?”
“Of course not,” Joan replied with a touch of surprise.
“Are you sure you want to do that?” Ted asked.
“Positive,” Jordon replied without hesitation. Gabriel’s silent disapproval of the plan wafted in the air, but Jordon’s mind was made up.
“We’ll put you in unit seven,” Ted said. They all got up from the table. “I’ll just go get the key for you.” He left the dining room through a door that Jordon assumed led into the main office.
“Breakfast is served from seven to nine. If that doesn’t work for you just let me know,” Joan said. “We’ll be glad to do whatever we can to accommodate you while you’re here.”
“I’d like you to keep things the way you would for any other guest,” Jordon replied.
“And I’ll be here around seven in the morning so that we can begin interviewing the staff at eight,” Gabriel said. “I hope you don’t mind me joining Agent James here for breakfast.”
“You know you’re always welcome here, Chief Walters,” Joan said warmly.
Ted returned to the dining room and handed Jordon a room key. “I’ll just grab my coat and show you to the room.”
“Don’t worry about it, Ted. I’ll see her to the room,” Gabriel replied. He pulled on his coat and Jordon did the same.
“Thank you for the sandwiches. It was very thoughtful of you,” Jordon said to Joan.
“It was my pleasure,” Joan replied.
“And I won’t be needing daily maid service while I’m here. Once a week or so would be fine just for clean towels and sheets, and I can change my own bed.”
Joan nodded. “If that’s what you want. Hopefully the case will be solved soon and you won’t even be here long enough for that.”
“We’ll see you in the morning.” Gabriel picked up Jordon’s suitcases.
Jordon took the smaller of the bags from him. “They seem like a nice couple,” she said when they were out of the building and heading up the stairs to the cabins.
“They are. They have good kids, too. Both Jason and Hannah are excellent students and they work here for their parents after school.” He shifted the suitcase he carried from one hand to the other. “But these murders are quickly destroying their livelihood.”
“So, who would want to do that?” The cold air nearly stole her breath away as they trudged up the stairs to the row of cabins. She sighed in relief as they reached the unit she would call home for the duration of her stay.
“A few people come to mind.”
She set the suitcase she carried down and retrieved the room key from her pocket. Although she was intrigued by any suspects he might have in mind, at the moment all she wanted to do was get out of the frigid night air.
She sighed in relief as she stepped into the warm room. Gabriel followed her just inside the door and set her suitcase on the floor. She shrugged out of her coat, flipped the switch that made the flames in the fireplace jump to life and then turned back to look at him. “So who are these people who come to mind?”
“Actually, I’d rather not get into all that tonight. It’s getting late and I’ll just let you get settled in. Why don’t I meet you in the dining room at seven tomorrow morning and we can discuss it more then.”
It was only eight o’clock, hardly a late night, but it was obvious by the rigid set of his shoulders and how close he stood to the door that he wasn’t comfortable having a long conversation in the intimacy of the room.
Maybe he had a wife to get home to, she thought, although there was no wedding ring on his finger. She pegged him in his midthirties, certainly not only old enough to be married, but also to have some children running around.
“Okay, then I guess I’ll see you in the morning,” she said. “Oh, and one more thing. If it’s possible, I’d like to have a car at my disposal while I’m here.”
He gave a curt nod. “I’ll see to it that you have one first thing in the morning. And we should exchange cell phone numbers.” He pulled his phone from his pocket.
With her number in his phone and his in hers, Gabriel stared at her for a long moment. “You know I don’t approve of you staying here. You need to call me immediately if you feel uncomfortable here or believe you’re in any kind of danger.”
The only danger at the moment was the possibility of getting lost in the simmering depths of his eyes. She’d watched those blue eyes through the course of the evening. She wondered if he had any idea how expressive they were.
As she’d spoken to the Overtons, his eyes had alternately radiated with a soft sympathy and a deep frustration. It was only when he gazed at her that they became utterly shuttered and unfathomable.
“Jordon?” he said, pulling her from her momentary contemplation.
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be just fine.” Her hand fell to the butt of her gun to emphasize her point. “Good night, Chief Walters. I’ll see you in the morning.”
He gave her a curt nod and then left the room. Jordon locked the door behind him. There was no dead bolt, only the simple lock in the doorknob. Apparently security had never been a real issue before the murders. She was vaguely surprised dead bolts hadn’t been installed since then.
She sank down on the chair next to the fireplace, her thoughts consumed by the man who had just taken his bedroom eyes and his heady woodsy scent with him.
She had no idea how well they were going to work together. She wasn’t sure yet how open he was to hearing anything she might have to say about the cases. But the bottom line was she had a job to do and she would do her best with or without his cooperation.
She pulled herself up off the chair and opened one of the suitcases on the bed. It took her only minutes to unpack and then place her toiletries in the bathroom.
She set up her laptop computer on the small coffee table in front of the fireplace and for the next half hour typed in notes and impressions while things were still fresh in her mind.
By the time she finished, she was still too wound up even to think about going to sleep. She should just pull her nightgown on and go to bed, but she had a feeling she would just stare at the dark ceiling while sleep remained elusive.
Although the idea of going outside in the cold night air was abhorrent, she pulled on her coat and snow boots with the intention of retrieving one of the flavored coffees that tasted like dessert from the guest shed.
The path to the shed was lit by small solar lights in the ground, and despite the frosty air, she kept her coat open and her hand on the butt of her gun. The night was soundless, the eerie quiet that thick snow cover always brought.
All of her senses went on high alert. There was no way she intended to be careless on her first night or any other night she stayed here.
A faint scent of pine lingered in the air and she noticed through the bare trees that the main building was dark. She was all alone on the Diamond Cove grounds.
When she reached the guest shed and stepped inside, a light blinked on and the bell tinkled overhead. She made sure the door was closed firmly behind her and then checked behind the door that hid the washer and dryer to make sure nobody was hiding there. She then moved to the storage room. With her gun in her hand, she threw open the door and breathed a small sigh of relief.
Assured that she was alone, she picked out a chocolate-flavored coffee, placed it in the coffee machine and then faced the door as she waited for the foam cup to fill.
This was what poor Rick Sanders had done. He’d come in here seeking a nice cup of hot chocolate and instead had ended up stabbed viciously in the back.
When the coffeemaker whooshed the last of the liquid into the foam cup, she turned and grabbed it and went back out into the quiet of the night.
She was halfway to her cabin when the center of her back began to burn and she had the wild sense that somebody was watching her.
She whirled around, her sudden movement sloshing hot coffee onto her hand as she gripped the butt of her gun with the other. Nobody. There was nobody on the path behind her.
There was no sound, no sign of anyone sharing the night with her. She hurried the rest of the way to her room, unlocked her door and went back inside. She set her coffee on the low table in front of the fireplace and then moved the curtain at the window aside to peer out.
Despite the fact that she saw nothing to cause her concern, she couldn’t shake the feeling that somebody had been out there, somebody who had been watching her...waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike.
* * *
GABRIEL WAS UP before dawn, his thoughts shooting a hundred different directions and making any further sleep impossible. He got out of bed, pulled a thick black robe around him and then padded into the kitchen to make coffee.
As it began to brew he took a quick shower, dressed for the day and then sank down at the kitchen table with a cup of hot coffee before him.
He should be thinking about murder. He should be thinking about the interviews he’d set up for the day, but instead his head was filled with questions about the long-legged, green-eyed woman who had blown into his case...into his town on a gust of cold air.
Could she accomplish what he hadn’t been able to do? Could she somehow identify the killer, who had remained elusive so far to him, and get him behind bars? If she could, then it would be worth whatever he had to put up with to work with her.
All he wanted was to get this murderer off his streets. He’d never dreamed when he’d left the Chicago Police Department behind three years ago to take this job that he’d be dealing with a serial killer in the town known as America’s family destination.
He’d also never imagined he’d be working for a mayor who was contentious and petulant, a man who was also a pompous ass and passive-aggressive. It was no wonder the last chief of police had quit after only less than a year on the job. More than once throughout the past three years Gabriel had considered walking away from here and starting over someplace else.
Once again his thoughts went to Jordon. There was no question that he found her extremely attractive. He even admired the fact that she’d called him out on the jabs he’d shot at her. But that didn’t mean he was going to like her and it certainly didn’t mean he was going to work well with her.
She already had one strike against her. He hadn’t approved of her decision to stay at Diamond Cove. She’d known he didn’t like it and yet she’d done it anyway. She was placing herself in the eye of a storm, and as far as he was concerned, it was an unnecessary, foolish risk.
By the time he finished two cups of coffee and his scattered musings, the morning sun had peeked up over the horizon and it was almost six thirty.
He made a call to arrange for a patrol car to be taken to the bed-and-breakfast for Jordon to use and then pulled on his coat to head out.
It was going to be a long day. Diamond Cove employed four people full-time and he’d arranged for all of them to be interviewed today along with a few others away from the bed-and-breakfast, as well.
As he got into his car he swallowed a sigh of frustration. Everyone they would be interviewing about the latest murder were people he’d interviewed at least twice before with the first two homicides.
He was desperate for some new information that might lead to an arrest, but he really wasn’t expecting to get any that day.
Thankfully, the road crews had handled the snowfall well and the streets had been cleared for both the locals and the tourists who braved the winter weather for a vacation.
There was another snowstorm forecast for early next week. Jordon better enjoy the next few days of sunshine because, according to the weather report, the approaching snowstorm was going to be a bad one.
Maybe they’d get lucky and solve the case before the storm hit. She could keep her date with the Florida beach and he could get back to dealing with the usual crimes that always occurred in a tourist town.
He arrived at the bed-and-breakfast at ten till seven and parked next to the patrol car that Jordon would use. He retrieved the keys from under the floor mat and then headed to the dining room.
Jordon was already seated at a table and he didn’t like the way his adrenaline jumped up a bit at the sight of her. Once again she was dressed in the black slacks that hugged every curve and a white, tailored blouse—the unofficial uniform of FBI agents everywhere.
“Good morning,” she said. Her eyes were bright and she exuded the energy of somebody who had slept well and was eager to face a new day.
“Morning,” he replied. He took off his coat and slung it over the back of a chair and then got himself a cup of coffee and sat across from her. The scent of fresh spring flowers wafted from her.
“Are you a morning person, Chief Walters?” she asked.
He looked at her in surprise. “I’ve never thought about it before. Why?”
“My ex-husband wasn’t a morning person and he found my cheerful morning chatter particularly irritating. If you need me to keep quiet until you’ve had a couple of cups of coffee, that’s information I need to know.”
“How long have you been divorced?” he asked curiously.
“Three years. What about you? Married? Divorced? In a relationship?”
“Single,” he replied, although he’d always thought that by the time he reached thirty-five years old he’d be happily married with a couple of children. That birthday had passed two months ago and there was no special woman in his life, let alone any children.
“Here are the keys to a patrol car you can use while you’re here.” He slid the keys across the table.
“Thanks. I appreciate it,” she replied.
“Good morning, Chief,” Joan said as she came into the room carrying two plates. “We heard you come in and I figured you were both ready for some breakfast.”
“Oh my gosh, this is too pretty to eat,” Jordon said as she gazed at the huge waffle topped with plump strawberries and a generous dollop of whipped cream.
“Speak for yourself,” Gabriel replied as he grabbed one of the pitchers of warm syrup from the center of the table. “As far as I’m concerned, Joan makes the best waffles in town.”
“Appreciate it, Chief,” Joan replied with a smile of pleasure. She poured herself a cup of coffee and then joined them at the table. Within minutes Ted also appeared to drink coffee while Gabriel and Jordon ate their meal.
For the next half hour the conversation remained light and pleasant. Ted and Joan told Jordon about the various shows and attractions offered at the many theaters and establishments along the main drag.
“If you have time to do anything, you should go to the Butterfly Palace,” Joan said. “It’s one of my favorite places here in Branson. It’s like walking in an enchanted forest with different species of butterflies everywhere.”
“That sounds nice, but I don’t plan on having any downtime to enjoy the local flavor while I’m here,” Jordon replied. “I’ve got a vacation planned in Florida next week so I can get away from the cold and the snow.”
“So you think you’ll be able to have this all solved by the end of next week?” Ted’s voice was filled with hope as he looked first at Jordon and then at Gabriel.
The frustration that had been absent while Gabriel had eaten his waffle returned to burn in the pit of his belly. “Unfortunately, I can’t promise to solve this case in a timeline that would accommodate Agent James’s vacation plans.”
“And certainly that isn’t what I meant to imply,” Jordon replied with a slight upward thrust to her chin. “Vacation plans can be postponed. I’m committed to being here as long as I need to be in order to be of assistance to Chief Walters.” She gave him a decidedly chilly smile.
“And I appreciate any help that I can get,” he replied, hoping to diffuse some of the tension that suddenly snapped in the air.
“Speaking of help...” Joan looked out the door where housekeeper Hilary Hollis and her daughter, Ann, stomped their boots before entering the building.
Joan cleared the table and then she and Ted disappeared into the office so Gabriel and Jordon could get down to work.
The interview with the two women didn’t take long and Gabriel let Jordon take the lead. It had been twenty-one-year-old Ann who had found Sandy Peters’s body when she’d entered the room to clean it.
The young woman’s eyes still held the horror of the gruesome discovery as she recounted to Jordon the morning she would never forget.
Jordon took notes on a small pad and handled the interview like the pro she obviously was, not only gaining the information she needed from the two women, but also earning their trust, as well.
“Do you intend for me to conduct all the interviews?” she asked when the women had left and she and Gabriel were alone in the room.
“If you’re comfortable with that. I’ve already spoken to these people several times before with the previous two homicides. Maybe you can get something out of one of them that I couldn’t get.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Are you being sarcastic?”
He smiled at her ruefully. “No, although I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that you think I am.” His smile fell into a frown as he continued to gaze at her. “I’m frustrated by these murders. I’m ticked off at the mayor, who has made me feel inadequate since the moment I took this job, and I guess I’ve been taking all that out on you.”
The smile that curved her lips warmed some of the cold places that had resided inside him for months. “Apology accepted,” she replied.
“That’s twice you’ve easily accepted an apology from me. Are you always so forgiving?” he asked curiously.
“I try not to sweat the small stuff, although I have been known to have a temper. Now, who are we seeing next?”
Before he could reply, the outer door swung open and groundskeeper Billy Bond walked in. “I don’t know why I’ve got to be here,” Billy said after the introductions had been made and he’d thrown himself into a chair.
He looked at Gabriel, his dark eyes filled with his displeasure. “You’ve already talked to me a dozen times before when those other two people got killed. I don’t know any more now about murder than I did then.”
“But I don’t know anything about you or anything you’ve told Chief Walters in the past, so you’ll have to humor us and answer some questions for me.” Jordon gave the surly man a charming smile. “Why don’t we start with you telling me what your duties are around here?”
“I take care of the grounds.”
“Can you be a little more specific?”
For the next forty-five minutes Jordon questioned the thirty-two-year-old man who had worked for the bed-and-breakfast since Joan and Ted had opened the doors for business.
Once again admiration for Jordon’s interrogation skills filled him as he sipped coffee and listened. And as before as he watched Billy closely, as he heard what the man had to say, he couldn’t help but believe the man was hiding something...but what?
“He’s a charming guy,” Jordon said wryly when Billy left.
“He definitely lacks some social skills,” he replied.
She looked down at her notes. “He answered all of my questions fairly easily, but his posture and facial expressions indicated to me that he wasn’t being completely truthful.” She looked at Gabriel. “For most of the interview he refused to meet my gaze and I could smell his body sweat. He just seemed a bit shady to me.”
“Billy is at the top of my potential suspect list because I have the same concerns about him, but I haven’t been able to find anything to tie him to the murders and I can’t figure out what he could be lying about.”
“He would be on my suspect list simply because he’s the one who found Samantha Kent in the woods,” she replied. “He could have stabbed her and then waited until he knew she couldn’t say anything to identify him and then played the hero in calling for help, knowing that she was going to die before she could say anything to anyone.”
He nodded. The same thought had definitely been in his head. “But what’s his motive? There’s certainly no financial gain in him killing the guests and he doesn’t seem to have an ax to grind with the Overtons.”
“Crazy doesn’t need a rational motive,” Jordon replied. Her eyes simmered with what appeared to be a whisper of dark ghosts and Gabriel fought against a sudden dark foreboding of his own.
Chapter Three (#u4f137cd9-44d5-5eed-9468-df56eeaa1453)
It was just before noon when thirty-eight-year-old handyman Ed Rollings sat at the table for his interview. Ed had the face of a cherub, slightly plump and with the open friendliness of a man who’d never met a stranger in his life.
However, the pleasant man was another at the top of Gabriel’s list of suspects. Before Ed had arrived, Gabriel had given Jordon just enough information to aid her in her questioning of Ed.
“I understand your brother Kevin owned this place before the Overtons bought it,” Jordon now said.
Ed nodded and a strand of his blond hair fell across his broad forehead. “That’s right. Kev had big dreams for Diamond Cove but he was short in the financial-planning area.” Ed laughed and shook his head. “That’s the story of Kevin’s life... Big dreams and no smarts for the follow-through.”
“And you weren’t upset when the Overtons took over here?”
“Why would I be upset? I was just glad they hired me on. I’d been working here when my brother owned it and jobs aren’t that easy to find around here. I don’t have any hard feelings against Ted and Joan. They didn’t screw things up for Kevin. He did that to himself.”
“What about your brother? Does he have a grudge against the Overtons?” Jordon asked.
“Kevin has a grudge against the whole world. Most of the time he doesn’t even like me or our brother Glen,” Ed replied with another laugh.
Gabriel listened to the back and forth and thought about that moment when Jordon’s eyes had darkened so much. Although he shouldn’t be curious, he was.
He was intrigued about those dark shadows that had momentarily danced in the depths of her eyes. He wondered what had caused her divorce, if her curls were as soft as they looked and what her slightly plump lips might taste like.
He also wondered if the stress of these cases was making him lose his mind. Certainly his thoughts about Jordon were completely inappropriate.
As Jordon continued questioning Ed, Gabriel got up from the table and walked over to stare out the window. From this vantage point he could see not only the cabins up on the ridge, but also the guest shed.
The scene of each murder flashed in his head, along with all of the people he’d interviewed after each one had occurred. Had he interviewed the murderer twice before already? Had he sat across from the person who had viciously stabbed Samantha Kent, Rick Sanders and Sandy Peters and exchanged conversation? Had he somehow missed something vital? That was one of his biggest fears.
“So, where were you on Sunday night when Sandy Peters was killed?” Jordon asked Ed.
Gabriel turned from the window to gaze at the man. “Where I usually am on most nights...at home with my wife.”
“And she can corroborate that you didn’t leave the house all night?”
Ed laughed yet again. “That woman knows if I turn over in my sleep. She’d definitely know if I left the house, which I didn’t.” His blue eyes shone with what appeared to be open honesty. “Look, I’ve got no reason to kill anyone and no reason to hurt Joan and Ted. Ted pays me a good wage for a day’s work. Besides, I don’t have it in me to murder somebody.”
“I think that’s it for now,” Jordon said and looked at Gabriel to see if he had anything to add.
“I’m sure Ed will be available if we have any further questions for him,” Gabriel said.
“You know where to find me. I’m either here or at home with Millie most of the time,” Ed assured them as he got up from the table.
“How do burgers sound for lunch?” Gabriel asked when Ed had left the building.
“Sounds good to me. I’m starving.” She got up from the table and reached for her coat slung across the back of her chair.
“I thought we’d grab some lunch and then head into the station. I figured you’d want to look at all the files of the other two murders.”
“Definitely,” she replied.
It took them only minutes to get into Gabriel’s car and he headed for Benny’s Burgers, a no-nonsense joint just off the main drag that didn’t cater to the tourist trade.
“I seriously doubt that the two housekeepers had anything to do with whatever is going on,” she said once they were on their way.
“I agree.” The warmth of the heater seemed to intensify the fresh floral scent of her that he found so appealing. He tightened his hands around the steering wheel.
“Tell me more about Ed Rollings and his brothers.”
“They were all born and raised here. Ed and his wife have no children but he has two brothers who also live in the area. Glen is two years younger than Ed. He’s single and works as a clerk in one of the souvenir shops. And as you now know, his older brother, Kevin, owned Diamond Cove but lost it in bankruptcy.”
He pulled into Benny’s Burgers’ parking lot, pleased to see that the lunch crowd was already gone and only three cars were in the lot.
Within five minutes they had their burgers and were seated across from each other in a booth near the back of the place. At least in here the odors of fried onions and beef were heavy enough to overwhelm Jordon’s evocative scent.
“I’m assuming you’ve interviewed Kevin Rollings,” she said and then popped a French fry into her mouth.
“Several times, but not in relationship to Sandy’s murder. He’s on my list to speak with later this afternoon. He’s another one who has been on my short list of suspects.”
“You mentioned that Billy Bond was on your list, as well. Anyone else I need to know about?”
He shook his head. “My list is depressingly short and everyone on it has had some sort of an alibi for the first two murders. You can get a better idea of what we’ve done to investigate those murders when you read the files.”
“I’m looking forward to that,” she replied.
For the next few minutes they were silent and focused on their meals. The cheeseburger and onion rings were tasteless to Gabriel as thoughts of the three murdered people weighed heavily in his head.
Jordon’s appetite didn’t appear to suffer at all. She ate her burger and fries, and then, with an assenting nod from him, she pulled his plate closer to her and picked at the onion rings he’d left on his plate.
“This has got to be somebody who wants to hurt Ted and Joan personally,” she said.
“I was hesitant to make that call until now.” He leaned back against the red leather of the booth. “I’ve investigated their background thoroughly and so far haven’t found anything or anybody that would send up a real red flag.”
“What did they do back in Oklahoma City?”
“Ted sold home and vehicle insurance and Joan was a third-grade teacher. According to all their friends and relatives, they’re solid people who didn’t have enemies. Their coworkers also spoke highly of them. Kevin Rollings might want to destroy the business just for spite and I can’t figure out if Billy Bond is hiding something or not.”
“He definitely has a bit of a creep factor going on.” She shoved his now-empty plate away.
“Unfortunately, I can’t arrest Billy for being a creep and I can’t arrest Kevin Rollings on just my suspicion alone. Why did you get a divorce?” The question was out of his mouth before he realized he intended to ask it.
Her eyes widened slightly in surprise and then she smiled. “I was madly in love and got married in an effort to play grown-up and be a traditional kind of woman. It took me two years to realize I wasn’t a marriage kind of woman after all.” She took a quick sip of her soda, her gaze curious. “What about you? Are you a marriage kind of man?”
“Definitely,” he replied firmly.
“Then why aren’t you already married? You’re a hot-looking guy with a respectable job. Why hasn’t some honey already snapped you up?”
“I’m cautious,” he admitted. “I want to make sure that when I finally marry it’s a one-shot, forever kind of deal. My parents just celebrated their fortieth anniversary together and I want that kind of a lasting relationship for myself.”
“Footloose and fancy-free—that’s the life for me,” she replied.
The threat of his intense physical attraction to her eased in his mind. She was somebody he would never be interested in pursuing no matter how alluring he found her.
This brief conversation was enough to let him know that he and FBI Special Agent Jordon James wanted very different things in life. He wasn’t sure why, but this fact gave him a bit of peace of mind.
For the first time since she’d arrived he relaxed. “I’m glad you’re here, Jordon.”
“Thanks, Chief Walters. Does that mean lunch is on you?”
He smiled at her. “Yes, lunch is on me, and please call me Gabriel.”
The sexy smile she flashed him in return instantly surged an unwanted tension back in his belly.
* * *
JORDON STRETCHED WITH her arms overhead and got up from the table. She’d been seated in the small conference room alone for the last couple of hours reading all the information that had been gathered on the murders at the bed-and-breakfast.
She definitely admired how Gabriel and his team had conducted such thorough investigations following each of the crimes. She’d also been aware of the respect shown to Gabriel among everyone in the station.
Nobody had joked or been overly familiar with him, indicating to her that he ran a tight ship and kept himself somewhat distant from his staff. Despite that fact, she’d sensed that he was not only respected, but also well liked.
She paced the length of the table, and her brain whirled with all the information she’d gained in the past three hours of intense study. Still, as thorough as the investigations had been, it was all information that yielded no answer as to who was responsible for the three homicides.
Several times throughout the past couple of hours of being cooped up in the conference room, a female officer named Jane Albright had occasionally popped her head in to see if Jordon needed anything. Only once had Jordon requested a cup of coffee.
The murder crime photos had been utterly gruesome and had built up not only a surge of frustration, but also a rich anger inside her. She wanted this perp caught before another person was killed and before Joan and Ted Overton were forced to close their doors and lose their livelihood.
She opened the conference room door, stepped out into the short hallway and headed to Gabriel’s office. She gave two quick raps on his door, and when she heard his deep voice respond, she walked in.
He looked ridiculously handsome seated behind a large wooden desk, a computer on one side and a stack of files at his right. He started to rise but she waved him back down and sat in a chair opposite the desk.
“Looks like a lot of work,” she said and pointed to the files.
“The usual...break-ins, purse-snatchings, robberies and the occasional car theft.” He leaned back in the leather chair, his blue eyes gazing at her expectantly.
“If you’re waiting for me to give you the name of the killer, don’t hold your breath. After reading the files I’m as aggravated as I’m sure you are. This guy is obviously smart and organized. He’s not only managed to commit three hideous murders but he’s also escaped each scene with nobody seeing him and leaving nothing behind.”
He stood. “We can talk about it more on the drive to Mouse’s Maze of Mirrors.”
A knot spun tight in her chest. “Mouse’s Maze of Mirrors?”
He nodded. “It’s a fairly new attraction on the strip, and on most afternoons and evenings Kevin Rollings works the door.”
She got up from her chair and fought against the unsteady shake of her legs. “I definitely think a chat with Kevin is in order.”
Minutes later they were in Gabriel’s car and headed to the popular 76 Country Boulevard, where, he explained, most of the theaters, eateries and attractions were located.
As he pointed out places of interest, she tried to still the faint simmer of panic inside her. See how I got mirrors all set up so you can see yourself? You can watch yourself scream. Ralph Hicks’s gravelly voice filled her head.
The creep had placed three large mirrors in front of all of his victims so they could watch while he tortured them. It had been a horrid form of torture in and of itself.
Buck up, buttercup, she told herself firmly. She’d survived the mirrors and Ralph Hicks. She refused to let those long hours in the cellar affect her now or define who she was. She could deal with a silly maze of mirrors without freaking out.
“I definitely think Kevin Rollings looks good as a potential suspect. His alibis for the other murders weren’t exactly stellar,” she said, shoving away the haunting memories of her past to focus on the here and now.
“It’s tough to break an alibi substantiated by another family member. His brother Glen swore Kevin was at his house drinking and then passed out on his sofa at the time of both the previous murders.”
“And of course Glen would have a motive to lie to save his brother’s hide,” she replied.
“I turned up the heat when I questioned Glen, but he stuck with the story.” Gabriel turned into a parking lot in front of a large brown building with a huge picture of a demented-looking mouse painted on the siding. “We’ll see what kind of alibi Kevin comes up with for the time of Sandy’s murder.”
As they got out of the car and approached the building, the sun broke out of the layer of clouds and gleamed on the rich darkness of Gabriel’s hair.
He walked with confidence, as if he owned the space around him. Salt of the earth...a traditional man with traditional values and three murders that he was desperate to solve.
He seemed to have taken these crimes personally, otherwise she’d be working with somebody else rather than the chief himself. She hoped together they could get this killer behind bars, where he belonged.
There were no other cars in the lot. There had been few cars on the road. Obviously mid-January after a snowfall was a slow time for the entire town.
They entered into a small lobby with a turnstile and a counter behind which Kevin Rollings sat. Although considerably older than Ed, Kevin had the same blond hair, the same round face as his brother, but that was where the similarities ended.
“I figured you’d be coming to talk to me,” he said with a deep scowl that transformed his pleasant features into something mean and ugly.
“You figured right,” Gabriel said and then introduced Jordon.
“Got the feds involved in local business.” Kevin shook his head and sniffed as if he smelled something dirty.
“Nice to meet you, Kevin. We had a nice chat with your brother Ed early this morning and he had so many wonderful things to say about you.” Jordon beamed a smile at the man.
“Ed’s a damn fool,” Kevin replied. “He’s nothing more than a glorified lawn boy.”
“What I’d really like to know is where you were on Sunday night,” Jordon replied, cutting to the chase.
Kevin smiled, a tight slash of lips that didn’t begin to reach his eyes. “That’s easy. I met up with a couple of buddies for beers at Hillbilly Harry’s. We were there until about midnight and then I went home and crashed out. I’ve got to admit I was pretty trashed. I could barely stumble from my car to the front door.”
“Good thing I didn’t meet you on the road. You’d have been looking at a little jail time and a DUI,” Gabriel said.
“Kevin, do you live by yourself?” Jordon asked, not wanting the conversation to get off track.
“Yeah. My wife left me two months after the Diamond Cove went into bankruptcy. And yeah, I hold a grudge about the whole thing. If the damned bank would have just given me a little more time, things would have been fine.”
His nostrils flared as he continued. “Now I’m working a minimum-wage crap job and barely making ends meet. I don’t have anything to do with the Overtons. It’s bad enough their kids hang out here with their snot-nosed friends all the time. Do I wish Diamond Cove would fall off the face of the earth? Damn straight. Did I kill those people? Hell, no.” He drew in a deep breath and stood from the stool.
“We’ll need the names of the men you were with on Sunday night,” Jordon said. She was shocked by the venom Kevin hadn’t even attempted to hide. He certainly had said enough to keep him high on the suspect list.
“Names?” Gabriel said and pulled a small notebook and pen from his coat pocket.
Kevin heaved a deep, audible sigh. “Glen was there and so was Wesley Mayfield, Tom Richmond, Dave Hampton and Neil Davies. You can check with all of them. They’ll tell you I was with them on Sunday night and I wasn’t anywhere near Diamond Cove.”
“Don’t worry. We will check it out.” Gabriel tucked the pen and notepad back into his pocket.
“Maybe while you’re here do the two of you want to go through the maze? I get a percentage of the till each night and today has definitely been a slow day.” The anger that had gripped Kevin’s features transformed to a mask of mock pleasantry. “Go see the mouse inside.”
“It might be the only fun you’ll have while you’re here,” Gabriel said to Jordon as he pulled his wallet from his pocket.
He paid for their admission and Jordon swallowed against the faint simmer of alarm that attempted to grip her. It’s just a silly tourist attraction, she told herself. She went through the turnstile with Gabriel just behind her. Don’t freak out. Mirrors can’t hurt you.
A dark corridor led into the maze, where she stepped into a space with five reflections of herself staring back at her. Gabriel was right behind her, a calming presence as the back of her throat threatened to close up.
“This way,” he said and led her into a corridor of mirrors to the right.
“Have you been in here before?” she asked.
“No, it’s my first time, too.” They both jumped as one of the mirrors lit up and displayed an image of the demented mouse and a loud, wicked cackle sounded from overhead.
“If I find you, Mouse, I’ll tie your tail into knots,” Jordon said as the mirror returned to normal.
“Come on. Let’s find our way out of here.”
She followed Gabriel’s lead through the disorienting corridors as she fought against dark flashbacks. The scars on her hip burned and the phantom scent of cigarette smoke and sizzling flesh filled her nose.
Mouse suddenly appeared behind another mirror. “Beware. If you aren’t fast enough I’ll pull you into my mouse hole and nobody will ever find you again,” a deep voice whispered over the speaker.
Jordon stared at the fat mouse with the oversize teeth and she was back in the cellar clad only in her bra and panties, her arms above her head with her wrists in shackles connected to chains that hung from the low ceiling.
Nobody will ever find you here. You’re mine to play with until I get tired of you. Ralph Hicks’s voice exploded in her head. I’m going to take my time and have lots of fun with you, and you get to watch.
She closed her eyes to dispel the memory and when she opened them again Gabriel was nowhere to be seen. She was alone...with the mirrors, and a deep, gripping panic froze her in place.
Help! Somebody please help me. The pleas filled her head. Don’t let him burn me again. Don’t let him do all the things to me that he did to the other women. I don’t want to die this way. Please help me!
“Gabriel?” His name croaked out of the back of her throat, which had become far too narrow. “Gabriel!” This time the cry was a half scream.
“I’m right here.” He appeared next to her.
She grabbed on to his hand and forced a bright smile. “Whew, I thought you were lost.” She hoped her voice betrayed none of the sheer panic that had momentarily suffused her.
“I think I found the exit—follow me.”
She dropped his hand and practically walked in the backs of his shoes and cracked several bad jokes in an effort to relieve her own tension. After several twists and turns and more warnings from the mouse, they found the door that led outside.
“That was sort of lame,” she said as they walked toward his car.
“From what I’ve heard, this is a really popular attraction among the teenagers in town. And as Kevin said, Jason and Hannah and their friends enjoy it.”
“Probably because the girls scream and clutch on to the nearest testosterone-filled boy,” she replied drily.
He smiled. “You want to get some dinner before I take you back to your room?”
Knots of tension twisted in her stomach and the taste of panic still filled the back of her throat. “I’m really not that hungry right now. Maybe you could just stop someplace and I’ll grab a sandwich to take back to the room for later. I can put it in the mini-fridge until I’m ready to eat.”
“There’s a sub place not far from here—we can stop there.”
They got into the car and Jordon was more than grateful to leave Mouse’s Maze of Mirrors behind. She hated her own weakness. She hated that she still felt a bit shaky and dark memories clutched at her heart and invaded her brain.
The last thing she wanted was for Gabriel to sense any weakness in her. “So, what’s on the agenda for tomorrow? A roller-coaster ride through a cave? A tour through Ripley’s Believe It or Not?” She forced a flippant tone in her voice, determined not to let the memories pull her down.
“Nothing quite so grand. We need to chase down all the men Kevin said he was with Sunday night and confirm his alibi.”
“Even if his alibi is confirmed until around midnight, that doesn’t clear him for the murder, which took place much later than that,” she replied.
“True, but in order to make a solid record, we need to corroborate everything.” He pulled into the parking lot of a small place called Subs and Such.
“I’ll just run in and grab something,” she said. “You want anything?”
“Nah, I’m good. I’ve got some leftover meat loaf waiting for me at home.”
It took her only minutes to get a submarine sandwich, several bags of chips and peanuts and then return to the car. All she wanted now was a long soak in the tub and time to put the mirrors and her memories behind her.
She might not have been woman enough to make her marriage work and she might not have been the daughter her parents wanted her to be, but she was one hell of an FBI agent. That was all she needed to be.
“Do you want me to drive into the station tomorrow morning or are you planning on picking me up?” she asked once they were back in the Diamond Cove parking lot.
“Why don’t I come here around seven in the morning to get you? That way I can start the day with one of Joan’s breakfasts.”
“Sounds good to me.” She gathered her purse and the white bag holding her sandwich and snacks. “Then I’ll see you in the dining room at seven in the morning.”
She gladly escaped the car and stepped into the cold night. She just needed a little time to get herself centered again. The little foray through the maze of mirrors had definitely shaken her up more than she’d expected.
She carried both her purse and her bag of food in her left hand, leaving her right hand to rest on the butt of her gun as she made her way down the path toward her cabin.
The night was once again silent around her and smelled of the clean evergreen that reminded her of Gabriel’s attractive woodsy cologne.
She breathed a sigh of relief as she reached her door. She stepped into the warmth of the room and noticed a folded white piece of paper that had apparently been slid beneath the door at some point while she’d been gone.
It was probably something from Joan and Ted, perhaps concerning breakfast the next morning.
She dropped her purse and the sandwich bag on the coffee table and then picked up the paper. She unfolded it and a sizzle of adrenaline whipped through her as she read the message written in red block letters.
U R Next.
Chapter Four (#u4f137cd9-44d5-5eed-9468-df56eeaa1453)
For the first time in months Gabriel’s thoughts weren’t filled with mayhem and murder. Instead they were filled with a woman who smelled like spring and had almost had a panic attack in a tourist attraction meant to be fun.
She’d played it off well, but he’d picked up on the signs of her distress while they’d gone through the maze. Although she’d made a few jokes, her voice had been slightly higher in pitch and with a hint of breathlessness. When she’d grabbed his hand hers had been icy cold and had trembled. What had caused her such distress?
She was a curious contradiction—tough enough to insist that she stay in a room that might put her at risk as a target for a vicious serial killer, yet shaken up by a silly maze of mirrors. Definitely intriguing.
He turned onto the road that would eventually lead to his house, thoughts of Jordon still taking up all the space in his mind. She was not only beautiful, but also intelligent and with a sense of humor that reminded Gabriel he had a tendency at times to take life and himself a little too seriously.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/carla-cassidy/scene-of-the-crime-means-and-motive/) на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.