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Colton's Deadly Engagement
Addison Fox
To catch a killer…They’ll fake an engagement…After yet another groom-to-be is murdered in Red Ridge, K-9 cop Finn Colton comes up with a plan. He'll fake an engagement to Darby Gage – to bait a criminal and investigate his suspect ‘fiancée.’ But after brutal attempts on both their lives, Finn worries that he's endangered the woman he's falling for. Can he protect Darby and convince her to make their engagement real?


A cop and his false fiancée track a serial killer
A Coltons of Red Ridge story...
After yet another groom-to-be is murdered in Red Ridge, K-9 cop Finn Colton comes up with a plan. He’ll fake an engagement to Darby Gage—to bait a criminal and investigate his suspect “fiancée.” But after brutal attempts on both their lives, Finn worries that he’s endangered the woman he’s falling for. Can he protect Darby and convince her to make their engagement real?
ADDISON FOX is a lifelong romance reader, addicted to happy-ever-afters. After discovering she found as much joy writing about romance as she did reading it, she’s never looked back. Addison lives in New York with an apartment full of books, a laptop that’s rarely out of sight and a wily beagle who keeps her running. You can find her at her home on the web at www.addisonfox.com (http://www.addisonfox.com) or on Facebook (Facebook.com/addisonfoxauthor (https://Facebook.com/addisonfoxauthor)) and Twitter (@addisonfox (https://twitter.com/addisonfox)).
Also available by Addison Fox
Cold Case Colton
Colton’s Surprise Heir
Silken Threats
Tempting Target
The Professional
The Royal Spy’s Redemption
The Paris Assignment
The London Deception
The Rome Affair
The Manhattan Encounter
Secret Agent Boyfriend
Colton K-9 Cop
Visit millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk) for more information
Colton’s Deadly Engagement
Addison Fox


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-07860-3
COLTON’S DEADLY ENGAGEMENT
© 2018 Harlequin Books S.A.
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
For Aunt Bonnie
Godmother. Aunt. Friend. Cheerleader. You’ve always been that to me and so much more.
But would I be me if I didn’t memorialize our oldest joke in your dedication?
Bonnie really IS a nickname for Angela. (Even if my 1st grade teacher still believes I’m wrong!)
I love you!
Contents
Cover (#u6ccb3bb3-7bbb-540f-a643-0eb578e61792)
Back Cover Text (#u84fc6cc2-2415-5e06-8db9-0053368ab3e7)
Author Bio (#ubab15e74-4d35-5fa2-ba10-aeda203f6a6b)
Booklist (#ud3bc231b-93c2-5325-aba2-911005836f58)
Title Page (#u1088819a-9fc8-57c4-bee1-7be2a26b6d00)
Copyright (#u5b532468-2993-52d6-a196-78ee0a21da53)
Dedication (#ue8345a8d-4d81-575c-9270-82ea45658293)
Chapter 1 (#u20b2a929-b591-5e92-96c0-5af43e547bd9)
Chapter 2 (#u59aadf8a-f893-5c87-84b9-98b106c5cb24)
Chapter 3 (#ua523e9d3-0fec-5c16-997b-cab431d5bfa8)
Chapter 4 (#u0b3dbcbe-373e-5dc1-8059-5f4280034163)
Chapter 5 (#u13c5b45f-f7ca-5602-af05-4aeddb131196)
Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 16 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 17 (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 1 (#u06784735-3657-5356-8ba1-233e402e88df)
Cold air pierced Finn Colton’s lungs as he ran hell-for-leather beside his faithful and loyal partner, Lotte. Although she was trained specifically for attacking and guarding her quarry, the German shepherd was a mighty fine tracker and Finn followed in her wake as she pounded over the hills and valleys of Red Ridge, South Dakota.
In February.
Damn, it was cold.
As soon as the thought registered, Finn pushed it aside as he pressed on toward the fleeing figure about seventy-five yards ahead, weaving in and out of shadow. Was it possible they were this close to the suspect dubbed the “Groom Killer”?
Although he’d put little stock in the sensational and lurid depiction the local press had been dreaming up for nearly a month, he would cop to concern over the safety of his town. A police chief’s duty was to his people and that was a mighty challenging job when everyone he spoke to admitted to walking around in fear.
Tonight’s discovery of a second dead groom was going to turn subtle unease to full-on terror.
Lotte’s bark pulled him from his dismal thoughts as she put on another burst of speed, leaping forward into the night. Finn ignored the cold air and kicked it up a notch, digging deep for the stamina to keep moving.
In an apparent burst of speed of his—or her—own, their quarry put on the juice and zagged out of view. Finn kept going, trailing Lotte so close he could feel her tail slapping against his thigh, but in moments it was clear they’d lost the trail.
Lotte whined as she slowed, running in a circle as she fought to pick up a fresh scent on the ground before letting out a sharp cry.
The distinct odor of bleach, especially piercing in the bitter cold, hit his nostrils as he narrowed the distance to his partner. He came to a solid halt and bent to settle his hands on his knees. He quickly stepped back, ordering Lotte with him, out of range of the harsh scent.
Years of consistent training and the deep love and affection they’d built had her backing up immediately and she moved to his side.
“We were set up, girl. That bleach was laid down only a little while ago. Bastard wasn’t running from us. He was running to his own version of the finish line.”
Finn cursed again and stood to his full height, willing his other senses into action as he searched the darkened night. A wash of stars lit up the sky, made even brighter by the thick halo of a nearly full moon, but revealed nothing. Whomever they’d chased was gone and the night held no clue as to where.
He toyed with following, anyway, heading in the last direction he’d seen his quarry, but knew it was a lost cause. If the killer was smart enough to put down the bleach in advance, he or she was smart enough to change direction once out of sight.
Lotte edged toward the chemical, backing away when the scent hit her nose once more.
“Clever,” he muttered. And dangerous, he added to himself. Very dangerous if the killer had enough sense to prepare like that.
Red Ridge’s K-9 unit was famous across the state and even farther on than the boundaries of the Black Hills and the South Dakota border. The killer would have known they’d use every resource at their disposal, including well-trained K-9 dogs who needed relatively little scent input to hunt their quarry.
He patted Lotte’s head, burying his fingers into the thick pelt of her fur. She was lean and fit, but winter had brought her thicker fur and he loved the way his palm seemed to sink into the warmth. She was a beauty and he scratched behind her ears as he praised her, reassuring her of her successful tracking even if the perp did get away. Finn Colton loved his sweet girl and he always made sure she knew she was appreciated and important.
He also talked to her like a partner. While he harbored no delusion she understood the differences in the gauge sizes of guns or the headache of late-night paperwork, she understood her role in their partnership and always sat and listened, staring up at him with large, soulful eyes. They shared an amazing bond and he never took her or her training for granted.
His wealthy uncle, Fenwick Colton, had seen to it that his investment in the unit and its cofunded training center—one of the largest in South Dakota—was well publicized. His uncle was an old bastard, Finn thought, but a crafty one. Man could get three dollars out of one and was always looking for an angle. If there was an opportunity to put Colton Energy in the paper, on TV or splashed all over the internet, he leaped at the chance.
The K-9 unit and training facility had given Fenwick that and more. Not only did they receive more than their fair share of local news coverage and even the occasional spate of national attention, but the unit had been a tribute to Fenwick’s late first wife. Dubbed “the only one he ever loved” by Fenwick’s own admission, he’d continued the funding long after he’d assuaged his grief with a string of generously endowed younger women.
The training center was one of the few reasons Finn tolerated his uncle. While his appreciation had a solid core of selfish motivation for the continued support of his precinct, a small corner of his heart liked the fact that Fenwick might have been a decent human being once upon a time.
Since he’d gotten Lotte as well as his entire department from the deal, Finn could hardly complain. But it did mean his uncle came calling a bit too often at police headquarters. His recent rant over the need to catch the Groom Killer had been a world-class tirade.
The fact that his uncle believed it was his niece and Finn’s cousin Demi Colton who was responsible, had added an uncomfortable edge to the proceedings. He knew how to deal with his uncle—he wasn’t a man who backed down easily before anyone—but the determined rant that Demi had gone so far off the edge she’d started killing men was a tough pill to swallow.
If asked, Finn would have said it was ludicrous. But after finding her necklace at the first crime scene and her name drawn in blood beside the body, he could hardly ignore what was in front of his face. Given her strong motive—she’d been engaged to Bo Gage before he’d dumped her for another woman he’d quickly proposed to—and the circumstantial evidence, Demi was their prime suspect. Yet the man who’d known her since she was an infant wanted to believe in her innocence.
The police chief had to work every angle, run down every lead and needed a great deal of objectivity. Especially with Demi on the run and seeming uncomfortably guilty when he’d questioned her after Bo Gage’s murder.
With their race toward answers lost, he gestured Lotte to follow him. It was time to head back to review the crime scene they’d abandoned—a celebration turned tragedy—to chase a murderer.
He still saw it in his mind—had already begun the mental walk through the details of the crime. The second groom lay outside the back door of the kitchen at the Circle T Steakhouse. The man had been murdered in the midst of his rehearsal dinner, his body discovered only when one of the line chefs had run outside for a quick break. The man’s scream had been heard all the way inside the restaurant and it had taken the foresight of the head chef to keep everyone away from the body. There was no way anyone could have helped Michael Hayden, even had they tried.
Not with a bullet hole seared clear through his heart and a black cummerbund shoved deep into his mouth.
* * *
Darby Gage patted the cushion beside her and tried to coax Penny onto the couch. Darby had lived in the same house with the stubborn female for the past two weeks and had been unsuccessful in getting Penny to share any common space. She refused to share the couch, the bed or even a small chaise longue on the back porch.
Since it was February in South Dakota, the chaise experiment hadn’t lasted long—it was too damn cold to sit waiting for a stubborn dog to join her on the rattan recliner—and Darby had taken some small measure of pride in the fact that she’d tried.
But enough was enough.
The German shepherd was the crown jewel in the dismal inheritance from her ex-husband and it was high time they came to some sort of grudging truce. Bo wasn’t coming back courtesy of the bullet in his chest and Darby was in charge now.
Which seemed to have no impact on Penny. None whatsoever. Nor had it stopped striking Darby with that strange combination of surprise and sadness.
Bo was really gone. And the manner of his death...
She still shuddered when she thought about how he’d been discovered, shot and left for dead, a tuxedo cummerbund shoved into his mouth. It was dark and macabre. She’d tried to avoid thinking about it, but that was difficult when you considered how the Red Ridge Gazette had run with a new story every day, each one more lurid than the last. Everything from Groom Killer on the Loose to Is the Groom Killer One of Red Ridge’s Own? had graced the paper’s headlines. More than that, it was as if a fever had gripped the town and no one could stop talking about it.
Was it a local like Demi Colton? The press had picked up on her as their favorite suspect and had been writing story after story on her background and her brief engagement to Bo before he’d dumped her for his new intended bride, Hayley Patton. Although she supposed anything was possible, as Bo’s former wife Darby could hardly understand a woman committing a crime of passion over the man.
He was good-looking in his own way, but she’d learned too quickly that he’d also used those good looks to coast by in life. He’d carried little responsibility, preferring to dump his troubles on others. And other than his dogs, there was little he’d seemed to truly care about.
In the end, it had been his cheating that had killed their marriage. She’d come to realize that even had he been faithful, theirs wasn’t a union that would have lasted. It had taken a while, but Darby had finally reached the point where she could accept that without the immense guilt that had initially accompanied the thought.
Which made her current circumstances all the more puzzling.
While she and Bo had ended things amicably enough two years ago, why had her ex seen fit to leave her his German shepherd breeding business? She knew and loved dogs—and she spent more than a few hours of each work week at the K-9 training center making a few extra dollars—but that didn’t make her a fit breeder. Neither had her fourteen-month marriage to Bo. He was a responsible breeder—he loved his dogs and he took good care of them—but she hadn’t involved herself in the business during their marriage.
Yet here she was. The new owner of Red Ridge’s premier breeding business for the town and the county’s K-9 units. They sold to assorted others besides the RRPD, but had a reputation to uphold with one of the state’s primary K-9 departments.
The PD down in Spearfish had attempted a K-9 unit of their own a few years back and had trained a few of Penny’s puppies. The cost of keeping the program had grown too much and they’d ultimately sold the dogs to a good security firm known for its excellent treatment and handling of their dogs.
Bo’s other customers, the Larson brothers, were also good for a few puppies in each litter. A fact that settled uncomfortably on her shoulders. It was unfair of her—they doted on their dogs and treated them well—yet something creeped her out about the way the twins, Noel and Evan Larson, strutted around Red Ridge like they owned the town and everyone in it. They’d been raised by their kindly grandmother, Mae, after losing their parents, and Darby knew she should cut them a break.
But she never liked when the Larson boys came around.
Penny’s light yip startled her and pulled Darby from her thoughts. The pretty German shepherd had dropped down to her belly, head on her front paws, and was even now staring at Darby.
“You don’t like the Larsons, either, do you?”
Penny’s dark eyes seemed to bore into hers. Even as she knew it was a silly thought, Darby could have sworn the dog agreed with her.
“You really can sit next to me. I won’t bite and I’d like to get to know you better.”
Penny’s gaze never wavered as she considered her from her spot across the rug. The couch wasn’t that comfortable, but Darby had to believe the threadbare carpet was even less so. She was still adjusting to her surroundings. She’d moved her few possessions in from the one-bedroom apartment she’d rented in town and the addition barely made a dent in Bo’s small house.
It was so odd to be back in the house. Their marriage had been brief but she’d made some improvements when she’d lived here with Bo. She’d freshened up the curtains and had insisted they paint the living room and kitchen to brighten things up. Now those improvements simply looked garish, like the rest of the house had aged around them, an old woman wearing her years despite the heavy makeup she used to try to hide the lines.
Since the house was hers, she’d like to make a few changes, but the inheritance hadn’t come without its challenges. One of which was a stifling mortgage that Bo had overextended himself on and a mountain of debt for the breeding business. She’d spent the past two weeks trying to get her arms wrapped around it all and was still puzzled by just how far into debt her ex-husband had gone. She didn’t think he was in that deep when they were married, but in the end, who really knew.
All she knew now was that she had a hill of debt and very few options.
She was also worried about Penny. The dog had kept her distance but Darby wasn’t blind to Penny’s increasing age. She was the conduit to more puppies though Darby had real reservations about attempting to breed her again.
Which only made the problems she had since the reading of Bo’s will grow even bigger.
Why had he chosen her? Was it punishment for a marriage gone bad instead of a gift?
Or was there something else at play?
Hayley Patton was his fiancée, yet she’d gotten nothing of his except the car they’d leased together and the rings they’d purchased in preparation for the wedding. She was flashing a mighty large rock on her left hand but Darby had no idea how Bo had paid for it. She could only be grateful the bill hadn’t showed up on her list of debts on the property.
Whatever else he was, Bo Gage hadn’t been a saver or a money manager. And now it was up to her to clean up his mess.
Lost in her thoughts, she was surprised to feel the heavy sway of the couch frame when Penny leaped up. The dog still kept her distance, curling at the opposite end of the three-cushion couch, but Darby smiled anyway.
Maybe they might figure their way out of this, after all.
* * *
Finn dropped into his desk chair and glanced at his watch: 4:00 a.m. It had taken them that long to secure the scene, interview the witnesses and take as much detail from the Circle T’s property as they could. Only after they’d done that had they been able to move Michael Hayden’s body.
The guy had snuck out the back of the kitchen to grab a smoke, his fiancée’s legendary distaste for the practice sending him skulking out a rear exit to escape the rehearsal dinner festivities unnoticed.
Only someone had noticed.
They’d shot him.
Finn reviewed his notes, typing them into his report to ensure his thoughts were as fresh as possible. What he avoided including was the observation that sneaking cigarettes at your rehearsal dinner because your soon-to-be wife hated the practice likely wasn’t the most auspicious start to happily-ever-after.
Not that he was exactly an expert.
His own marriage had crashed and burned in a fiery pile of ash after his ex-wife had grown fed up with his hours and the danger of his job. Mary was a good woman and he’d heard through the grapevine that she was remarrying. She’d left Red Ridge after their divorce, picking up work in Spearfish, about thirty miles away, as a digital designer for a local firm. He was happy that she had moved on with her life and wanted nothing but good things for her.
The fact that he’d felt nothing—not even the slightest tug—when he’d heard the news bothered him more than he could say. Wasn’t a man supposed to be jealous if his ex moved on? Even a little bit? Yet here he was, content and maybe even a little relieved that she’d picked up her life and found someone new. He’d never worried much about his reputation as a cold, work-focused leader, but maybe it was time he started.
After, he promised himself. He’d worry about it all after he got through these reports and the inquiries and found out just who was killing men in his town.
The report practically wrote itself. The men and women on his team were well trained and good at their jobs. Between their notes and work, as well as his own, he was able to paint a quick, succinct picture of the crime and Michael Hayden’s unpleasant death.
Shutting down his laptop, he caught sight of a note scribbled by Carson Gage and left in the small wooden box he kept on the corner of his desk.
Carson was one of his best detectives on the force and the brother of the first victim, Bo Gage. Finn picked up the note, curious to see what, if any, details Carson had added to his already-robust case file.
Unsuccessful visit to Darby Gage. Persists in saying she had no idea why Bo left her the business and the house. Has alibi for Bo’s murder but could have someone covering for her?
Despite the personal connection with his brother, Carson had been invaluable on the case. But that last question didn’t sit well with Finn. He knew Carson had worked long and hard to find justice for his brother, but it wasn’t like him—or anyone on Finn’s team—to question a person’s alibi simply for the sake of wrapping up a case and pinning a crime on a convenient suspect.
Was there something behind Carson’s concern? Or was he so frustrated by the lack of leads that he’d begun grasping at straws?
Yes, it was suspicious that Bo had left his business to his ex-wife. But Finn had known Bo Gage and the man hadn’t been the most responsible soul. It could be as simple as the fact that Bo had never had his will changed after his divorce.
Or there could be something else there.
He made a quick note to himself to go talk to Darby Gage. He’d spoken with her a few weeks before when suspicion had first landed on Bo Gage’s ex-wife and hadn’t come to any conclusions. Nevertheless, if something about the woman was nagging at Carson, then Finn would talk to her again.
His detective had a lot on his plate, including his own conflicted feelings about his brother’s passing. Perhaps this case needed a bit more objectivity.
Up until their last meeting, Finn had known Darby Gage as he knew most of his constituents, by sight and a vague recollection of a conversation a time or two. She was pretty, with shoulder-length dark hair and vivid blue eyes, her figure petite and waifish. If he hadn’t seen her at the K-9 training center a time or two, carrying pails of water to scrub out the dog facilities, he’d not have believed her capable of the work. The slender lines of her body belied a strong, capable woman.
One capable of murder?
He shook off the thought, unwilling to take the same leap as Carson simply for the sake of having a suspect besides Demi Colton.
Fifteen minutes later he was still thinking of her when he stepped into his ground-floor condo and peeled off his gun before climbing into bed.
Was it even remotely possible Darby Gage was the Groom Killer? She had a potential motive for killing her ex-husband—he’d left her the house and business, after all. But Michael Hayden had been killed with the same MO as Bo. And why would Darby kill Hayden?
The thought of her as the perp didn’t sit well, but for some strange reason, just as he was fading off to sleep, he felt a shot of interest light up his nerve endings. There was something about her that caught a man’s notice.
Something that had caught his notice, even as he’d been forced to remain professional and disinterested.
He hadn’t given Darby Gage more than a passing thought over the past five years, but now that he had given her a passing thought, he couldn’t deny his interest in talking to her.
So he’d go see her for himself.
And try not to notice if she was as pretty as he remembered.
Chapter 2 (#u06784735-3657-5356-8ba1-233e402e88df)
The hope that had carried Darby through the prior evening when Penny had opted to join her on the couch met an untimely end about ten minutes into breakfast. It had started with Penny’s stubborn refusal to eat. Darby had tried to coax her with dry food and, when that hadn’t worked, some wet food Bo had kept in the pantry. When neither met with success, she’d even gone so far as to cook the dog some rice and heat up some plain chicken she’d cooked for her lunchtime salads all week. All to no avail.
Penny wouldn’t eat.
This had resulted in a call to the vet and a panicked round of “What did she eat the day before?” before the dog had shamed her into embarrassment by diving into her breakfast after fifteen shaky, fear-filled minutes. The only saving grace was that Darby hadn’t called the vet out to the house, only to have paid for an unnecessary visit.
What the call had turned up as the vet probed on Penny’s age and overall health was his concern that another litter would put Penny at serious risk. On some level, Darby had known it, but she’d told herself she needed a professional opinion.
And now she had it.
That dismal news and the breakfast battle of wills had been followed by the news of another murder in Red Ridge, this one eerily like Bo’s. While the RRPD hadn’t released all details of how Michael Hayden had been murdered, the fact that it was another groom-to-be—this one celebrating at his rehearsal dinner—was too coincidental for Darby’s comfort.
After fielding three calls from concerned friends in town, along with two more she’d sent to voice mail, unwilling to engage in the expected idle gossip that would have resulted, Darby headed out to the backyard and the property beyond.
The day was sharp and cold, but the winter sun was bright in a blue sky. Penny had reluctantly followed her outside and had skirted the property, seeming to take comfort in her perusal of the perimeter before settling on the rattan recliner on the porch, apparently content to watch her.
Darby shot the dog the gimlet eye but was pleased to see Penny’s reluctant interest in her activities. “Chalk it up to a silent victory that she’s interested enough to hang out here and move on,” Darby muttered to herself before heading toward a large shed.
She dug out a bucket and some disinfectant and went to work on the large cage she’d pulled out of the garage the day before. The roomy nest served as Penny’s private area when she was preparing for her litter and Darby wanted it clean and fresh.
Penny might not be able to use it any longer but the activity and the bracing air gave Darby purpose and something to do.
It also kept her mind away from the subject of just how far off the rails her life had traveled.
She’d believed her savings would be enough to carry her through the next litter of puppies. But the problems kept mounting and there was no way she could take care of the business, the house, the taxes and the need to purchase a new dog for the breeding program on the small amount she had in the bank.
Bo’s once-thriving business with quite a few quality dogs was now down to Penny. Darby knew how much Bo had loved the dog and he’d obviously kept her even after he had to sell all the other German shepherds to keep things afloat.
Bo’s father, Edson, had begged Darby to keep the business going in his son’s memory, and she’d promised she would. It was only after seeing the degree of Bo’s debt that she was fast coming to understand she shouldn’t have made that promise.
What a mess.
Settling the thick padding from the base of the cage and the disinfectant on the porch, Darby headed inside to retrieve the water she’d left heating on the stove to mix with the cleaner. She’d nearly wrestled the heavy pot off the stove when the doorbell rang. Resettling the pot and narrowly avoiding the slosh of hot water against the edges, she headed for the front door. The house wasn’t large, but she prayed with each footfall that one of the nosy voice mails still waiting on her phone hadn’t decided to drive across town to strike up a conversation.
Offering up one more silent prayer, Darby pulled open the front door.
Just when she thought her day couldn’t get any worse, she came face-to-face with Finn Colton, the Red Ridge chief of police.
* * *
Finn appreciated the authority that came with his position and he made it a point to behave in a way that earned him respect. He’d met a few cops over the years who’d forgotten that the trust the public imbued in them was as important as honoring that trust. He’d never wanted to behave in a manner that disregarded that bond.
His surprise visit to Darby Gage was both deliberate and purposeful. Respectful, but deliberate all the same. While not quite full-on disregard for her trust, he was doing a bit of bearding the lion in its den.
Aka surprising the pretty divorcée. On purpose.
“Mrs. Gage. I was hoping you could find a few minutes to speak with me.”
“Chief Colton.” She nodded but made no move to let him in. “What can I do for you?”
“I wanted to talk to you about Bo for a bit.”
Resignation settled in her blue-violet gaze before she nodded her head. “Of course. Come in, please.”
He followed her into the small house, surprised to see how run-down the place was. He’d grown up well aware of the long-standing Colton-Gage feud but had always believed the Gages lived well enough to afford the basics. Though he had little interest subscribing to something as antiquated—and decades old—as the town family feud, his reaction to the state of Bo Gage’s home only reinforced that he’d never been particularly close with any of the Gages.
Fortunately, working with several members of the family on the force had changed that and he was grateful for it. Carson had his full respect, as did Carson’s younger half sister, Elle. Although still a rookie on the K-9 team, Elle handled herself with poise beyond her years and had a keen ability to partner with her K-9 charge.
In Finn’s estimation, the Gages weren’t so bad, even if his uncles, Fenwick and Rusty, as well as his father, Judson, continued to perpetuate the ridiculous notion of a feud. He’d been called to more than one heated incident between members of the two families since joining the RRPD and knew it was only a matter of time before there’d be another.
Truth be told, he was surprised there hadn’t been a skirmish yet, especially with a Gage murdered and a Colton as one of the suspects.
Even with his better understanding of the Gage family—or maybe because of it—Bo Gage’s home was unexpected. He might have been a slacker, but Bo was still the son of one of Red Ridge’s wealthier individuals, Edson Gage. Somehow Finn had expected Bo’s fortunes to be a bit more robust than the shabby decor suggested. Even as his gaze roamed the place, Finn had to give Darby credit. The furniture might be worn and run-down, but it was clean. He didn’t see dust on the end table or the TV and he could still see the outline of sweeper marks on the carpet.
Were murderesses that clean?
A quick scent memory of the bleach from the crime scene filled his nose and he struggled against the thought. Bo had been dead long enough that there would have been some accumulation of dust and dirt by now. Yet here she was, cleaning up and making the place her own.
“What would you like to discuss, Chief Colton?”
Darby’s question pulled him from his musings, but Finn had to admit the angle wasn’t one he’d considered. Perhaps it was time he started.
“You seem to be settling in.”
“I didn’t have much to move in with me.”
“Clean, too.” He stated it as an observation and was surprised when she just smiled back, her grin bright and proud.
“My mother raised me to believe cleanliness was next to godliness. Add on the fact that I’m keeping up with a seventy-pound German shepherd and my OCD kicks in hard.”
“Does the dog hate the mess?”
“No, Chief. I do. And the endless piles of hair a dog sheds.” She turned toward the kitchen. “Can I get you a cup of coffee?”
“That’d be nice.”
Finn followed Darby into the back of the house, smiling when the purported mess maker—a German shepherd with the same coloring as Lotte—came through a doggie door and trotted toward him. He extended his hand, keeping an easy smile on his face. “Hey there, girl.”
The dog slowed but continued forward, her tail wagging gently.
Finn kept his hand extended, pleased when she allowed him to pet her head. “Hi, sweetheart. What’s your name?”
“This is Penny.” The slightest grimace crossed Darby’s face before she shot an indulgent smile at the dog. “She sure seems to like you.”
He dropped to a knee and continued to level praise and affection on the dog. “Why do I sense that irritates you?”
“Let’s just say Penny and I have come to a grudging truce since I moved in.”
“How grudging?”
“I keep trying and Penny keeps her distance.”
Finn stood to his full height. “She’s a good girl. She’s just had a lot of upheaval lately. Bo loved this dog.”
“That he did. Which is why, when I was married to Bo, Penny and I had a reluctant truce, as well.”
“She didn’t like another woman in her territory?”
He saw the moment the idea struck, Darby’s eyes widening. “I never thought about it that way, but I guess I can see that.”
Finn had spent enough time with Lotte to know that she was deeply protective of him. And while that hadn’t extended to the women he dated—mostly because Finn made a solid point not to bring them around his partner—he knew it was something he’d likely deal with should he ever get back in deep enough in a relationship.
An image of Lotte meeting Darby struck him, the thought out of place for the job he was there to do. He needed to talk to Darby Gage about her potential involvement in a murder, not imagine her making friends with his dog.
So why had the image struck?
Darby handed over a mug, oblivious to his wayward thoughts. “What would you like in your coffee? I have cream, milk and sugar.”
“Cream would be fine.”
She retrieved the small carton from the fridge and handed it over.
Penny watched her before backing away to take a seat beneath the kitchen table.
“Yep.” Darby nodded as he handed back the carton. “She hates me.”
“She’s just trying to get used to you. Give her some time.”
“I suppose.”
Finn took a sip of his coffee and gestured to the table. “Mind if I take a seat?”
“Sure.”
She fixed her own mug and took a seat opposite him.
“Do you know Michael Hayden?”
“No, I’m afraid I don’t,” Darby said. “But I’ve had several calls this morning telling me something terrible has happened to him.”
“You could say that.”
“Was he murdered like Bo?”
“It appears so.”
She shook her head. “What makes people do such horrible things? I know Bo had his shortcomings, but to hurt him like that? It doesn’t make sense to me.”
Something weird bottomed in his stomach, fluttering beneath the caffeine hit, and Finn had to admit that he wanted to believe her. More than that, the sincerity in her eyes seemed legitimate. He had significant experience reading people—the wacky branches of his family ensured he had to be constantly on his toes—and he’d only further honed that skill with his job in law enforcement.
But the desire to believe her didn’t change the fact that her alibi on record was a bit weak for the night of Bo’s death. Nor did it keep him from having to ask where she was yesterday when Michael Hayden was murdered.
“Murder makes little sense.”
“And here in Red Ridge, of all places. I know people deal with this in large cities. But here?” She shuddered. “It doesn’t seem possible.”
The fact that she still hadn’t tracked to his line of thought was another checkmark in her favor, but none of it changed the point that she was one of the few who’d gained with Bo Gage’s murder. “You’ve benefitted from Bo’s death.”
The distracted blue gaze, focused on the small circles she drew around the lip of her mug, snapped to attention, fire heating their depths. “This again?”
There she was. Defensive. Because she was guilty?
“This house. His business. Penny.” Finn listed them all. “You’re the one who profited by Bo’s death.”
“I was interrogated by your detective after the reading of Bo’s will. I did not kill my ex-husband. But is that what you are suggesting, Chief Colton?”
“I’m just asking questions.”
“No, you’re not.” She settled her mug on the table, her gaze direct when she next looked at him. “So I’d like to know if I’m a suspect before I ask you to leave.”
* * *
Darby fought the waves of nerves that mixed her few sips of coffee into a dark sloshy brew in her stomach. Even with the subtle feeling that she was going to be sick, she refused to stand down.
How dare he come to her home and ask her questions like this?
She wasn’t a murderer. More than that, she’d been so busy since Bo’s death, she’d barely kept her head above water. What did he possibly think she was about?
And why?
Unbidden, images of the past few weeks’ front pages of the Red Ridge Gazette filled her mind’s eye.
Groom Killer on the Loose.
The Red Ridge Groom Killer—Crime of Passion or Premeditated Murder?
Love or Revenge? Does the Groom Killer Want Both?
One after the next, the headlines had grown more and more lurid as each day went by without any leads. The reporters at the Gazette had been having a field day with the biggest thing to hit Red Ridge since a four-month gold rush helped establish the town in the late nineteenth century. Now that a second groom had been killed, the headlines would only get worse.
Because it was worse, she reminded herself. There was a groom killer on the loose.
“You think I’m doing this? First Bo. Then this poor Michael Hayden, a man I didn’t even know.”
“I’m asking a few questions.”
“No, Chief Colton. You’re not.”
When he said nothing, she continued. “Can you honestly sit there and tell me you think I murdered my ex-husband to get my hands on this?” She gestured to the kitchen at large, stopping when her gaze landed on Penny. “Other than Penny, the man has left me with less than nothing.”
He seemed to soften a bit at her mention of the dog, his hard gaze softening as it grew speculative. “I’m not sure his fiancée sees it the same way.”
The comment was enough to respike her ire and Darby let out a heavy exhale. “Don’t think Hayley hasn’t been by a few times to make that very point.”
“Miss Patton’s been here?”
“Sure. She came to get her things. Made a point to prance out of the bedroom flaunting a small red negligee like it was going to hurt my feelings.”
“You were married to Bo Gage,” Chief Colton pointed out. He didn’t even blink at the mention of a red slinky number. “Presumably she thought it would upset you?”
“Bo and I parted on amicable terms. The best thing I can say about the day I signed my divorce papers was the sense of relief.”
“You weren’t upset?”
“I spent the majority of my marriage upset. By the time I reached that day, I was just happy to be out, free to go about my life.”
As the words settled between them, hovering somewhere over the sugar bowl in the middle of the table, Darby couldn’t deny their truth. She’d had no desire to be a divorcée at the age of twenty-seven, but in the ensuing two years she’d come to accept the fact that ending her marriage to Bo had been the right thing to do.
She might not have found anyone to move on with, but she had moved on. There was strength in that, and a deep sense of pride that she’d been willing to make the tough decisions and stand up for herself.
It had also toughened her up and she knew she didn’t have to sit there and answer Chief Colton’s questions, no matter how attractive the questioner.
And darn her stupid feminine awareness for picking up on that fact.
Whatever she’d expected when he’d arrived, Finn Colton wasn’t there to help her any more than any other gawkers who’d been by over the past few weeks. She was on her own.
Just like always.
But it was his next words that proved it.
“Would you be able to tell me your whereabouts for yesterday between the hours of seven and nine?”
Chapter 3 (#u06784735-3657-5356-8ba1-233e402e88df)
Finn poured himself another cup of precinct coffee, well aware the caffeine wasn’t going to do any favors for the slick knot that still twisted his gut. His interview with Darby Gage hadn’t gone well and after securing her unprovable alibi for Hayden’s murder—an evening in with Penny—he’d left her in a fine pique.
Although he’d been hoping for confirmation that she’d been out with girlfriends or even on a date, her pronouncement that she’d spent the cold winter night in with her obstinate new roommate hadn’t gotten him any nearer to removing Darby Gage from his suspect list.
He headed back to his desk from the small kitchenette the RRPD secretary, Lorelei Wong, maintained with the same ruthless efficiency with which she manned the front entrance. He’d deliberately used the single-cup brewer instead of making a pot so she wouldn’t come in Monday morning and razz him for making a mess. She’d probably still find an infraction, but at least he wouldn’t risk leaving a coffeemaker full of coffee grounds or stale coffee gone cold in the pot.
The case bothered him. He knew himself well enough to know that not only would it require his full concentration, but that that same concentration would likely reduce a few brain cells for the next few days.
Who was killing grooms-to-be in his town?
What makes people do such horrible things?
Darby’s question haunted him, nagging at the back of his sleep-deprived mind. After his visit to Bo Gage’s old residence, he’d headed back to the Circle T to review the latest crime scene with fresh eyes. The visit hadn’t turned up much, other than the fact that the town was shaken. The restaurant had reported that nearly all their Saturday night reservations had been canceled before the owner was even able to make the calls that they would be closed that evening.
But it was the comments the proprietor, Gus Hanley, had fielded from those canceling guests that had Finn concerned.
“If someone’s killing men who are about to get married, can I risk even going out on a date?”
“Big-city crime has come to Red Ridge. Maybe I need to try staying in for a while.”
“Should we reconsider our spring wedding?”
Along with the canceled reservations, Gus had lost two events for early March—one for an engagement party and one for a rehearsal dinner.
No doubt about it, Red Ridge was in a panic. As a lifelong resident, Finn found that sad. As chief of police—it was unbearable. He’d become a cop because he’d wanted to make a difference. The fact that he was good at it was an added bonus that kept him focused, determined and dedicated. The added added bonus of working with Lotte had sealed the deal.
He hadn’t always been a K-9 cop. His first few years on the force had been focused on learning the ropes and endless hours of traffic detail. But he’d showed promise and the old chief, Clancy Macintyre, had taken him under his wing. Chief Macintyre had been a good influence, balancing his innate ability to teach with the patience and care Finn’s own father had never exhibited.
Judson Colton was a rancher and a damn fine one. But he’d never understood his oldest son, a quiet kid with an unerring eye for detail. That had always been true and, whether by choice or by habit, he and his father maintained a respectful distance. His father’s second wife, Joanelle, had made that even easier to accomplish with her cold ways and dismissal of Judson’s first child as a burden she was forced to carry.
But there was one thing ranch life had taught Finn and that was his love of animals. His opportunity to move in to the K-9 unit and work with a trained canine partner had taken his love of police work and made it his life’s calling.
He was good at his job and he was good to the men and women who worked for him. They all kept Red Ridge safe and took pride in their role as protectors. And someone had come to their town and violated all they’d built.
Suddenly tired of it all, including the need to question petite women with silky hair and what read as determined—but innocent—eyes, Finn headed for his desk. The case weighed on him and he’d be no good to anyone if he didn’t clear his head. It was time to wrap up the little paperwork he’d come in for, get his notes on the interview with Darby logged in and head home. Maybe he’d make a steak and a baked potato, the hearty meal a way to relax and recharge.
And then he’d eat it alone.
That thought hit harder than all the others that had bombarded him throughout the day.
He’d been alone since his divorce and had believed himself okay with it. He’d had dates from time to time. Had even progressed to something more like a relationship a few years back with a sweet teacher down in Black Hills City. But, ultimately, things hadn’t worked out. She’d had visions of the future and in the end he simply couldn’t get his head on the same page.
So why was he now imagining enjoying his steak and potato with a companion?
One who looked suspiciously like Darby Gage.
The squad room was quiet. His cousin Brayden, another K-9 cop on the team, was tapping away at his keyboard. He was nodding his head to whatever music pumped through his ears—classic rock, if Finn knew his cousin—but he did holler a “yo” as Finn passed.
Finn briefly toyed with inviting Brayden to join him for dinner, but for some reason the thought of sharing a steak and a beer with his cousin—whom he liked quite a bit—didn’t entice the same way as images of dining with Darby.
Since his latest set of notes wouldn’t write itself, Finn opted to ignore thoughts of dinner altogether as he sat down. His desk held what he considered a comfortable amount of clutter: stacks of files, a handful of notes, and a series of sticky notes that littered the top of his desk and the edges of his computer monitor. Shifting a stack of folders farther to the edge, he knocked over a dark box, the square packaging making a heavy thud as it hit the floor.
Finn bent to pick it up, quite sure the box hadn’t been on his desk the night before. There was a small square card taped to the top and he flipped it open.
“‘Chocolates for a cop with a big heart.’” The note was signed “an appreciative citizen” and had small hearts dotting the i’s in “citizen.”
He wanted to think it was sweet—this wasn’t the first anonymous gift he’d received over the past few weeks—but it was beginning to get out of hand. Red Ridge was a small town and he appreciated the proprietary way the citizens treated their local law enforcement. The holidays typically brought a steady stream of cookies and cakes for the staff and homemade treats for the canine members of the team. Summer often brought picnic baskets of fried chicken and endless vats of lemonade.
In all of those cases, the townsfolk enjoyed bringing in the gifts and thanking the staff in person. What Finn couldn’t quite reconcile with the recent spate of gifts directed at him was why the giver felt the need to be anonymous.
Going with his gut, he dropped the chocolate into the trash can under his desk and went back to his report.
There really was no accounting for the wacky things people did. And since he had a killer to catch, he hardly had the time to worry about someone too shy to come in to the precinct to say hello.
* * *
Darby stared at her checkbook and tried desperately not to think about the debt that loomed once she got through the month of February.
“Welcome to Monday,” she muttered to herself, well aware she’d have the same problem on a Tuesday, a Wednesday or any other day of the week. There simply wasn’t any more money. And the vet’s visit the day before—a courtesy visit he’d called it—had proved conclusively she couldn’t breed Penny again. The risk to Penny’s health was too great to support another litter, especially coming on the heels of the litter she’d had the previous fall.
He’d mentioned a sweet German shepherd he’d taken care of in a nearby town—one ready for breeding and whose owner would sell for a fair price assuming she could keep one of the litter as part of the arrangement. But Darby knew it was hopeless. She barely had enough to take care of herself and Penny. There was no way she could afford a new dog right now.
The breeding program would have to wait until she got back on her feet. A few more months of her regular jobs—waitressing at the diner and helping out at the K-9 training center—and she’d reassess. That was assuming the taxes on Bo’s property didn’t put her underwater before she could earn what she needed.
On a hard sigh, she slammed the checkbook cover closed and shoved it, along with several open bills, across the kitchen table. She’d worry about it later. The problem wasn’t going anywhere and she had one more room to clean before she’d finally feel like she’d officially moved in to her own home.
When had Bo become such a slob?
While she hadn’t lied to Chief Colton the other day—that she was pleased to be out of her marriage—Bo hadn’t been a terrible guy. They weren’t compatible in the least and once she’d gotten past the fact that she’d fallen in love with an image instead of an actual person, it had become far easier for her to assess her marriage through objective eyes.
Even his roving nature—undoubtedly the worst aspect of their relationship—had an odd sense of immaturity wrapped up in it. If Bo wanted something, he went after it. Like a child unable to leave a sweet on the counter or Penny snatching something from the trash. The item was taken because it was there.
Bo was the same with women.
What he hadn’t been, if memory served, was a piggish man with a dirty home. Granted, he’d been a bachelor before she’d moved in the first time, and had spent more time out of the house than in, but she hadn’t remembered the dirt.
Or maybe she’d simply had the blind gaze of a newlywed, determined to create a new life.
She crossed to the counter and picked up her scrub brush, soap and a large container of bleach. She’d nearly gone through the entire thing over the past week, scrubbing down anything and everything she could find. The small second bathroom at the back of the house was her last hurdle to conquer. She could then at least take comfort that she laid her head down each evening in a clean home.
An hour later, with the last section of shower tile shining a gleaming white, a heavy pounding on the front door jarred Darby from her thoughts and the throbbing strains of pop music that played through her earbuds. The addition of Penny’s barking had her peeling off her rubber gloves and dropping everything into the tub to go see who was at the door.
“Penny!” The dog had her nose pressed to the floor in front of the door, a low growl emanating from deep in her throat.
The pounding kicked up again and without the earbuds Darby had no trouble making out who was knocking. The high-pitched screech gave it away even before Darby pulled aside the small panel curtain that hid the glass beside the door.
Hayley Patton.
“Darby Gage, you let me in!”
Although it had been a few years since she’d lived with Bo and Penny, Darby hadn’t forgotten her training skills or the way Bo had taught her to manage the dog. She used the required instructions to order Penny away from the door, satisfied when she took up her post a few feet back, blocking the small hallway entrance into the main living area of the house.
The uncontrolled barking was odd, but not unexpected. For all her skill with dogs as a trainer at the K-9 training center, Hayley had a worse relationship with Penny than Darby did. Whether there was something about the woman that disturbed Penny or just the pure knowledge that Hayley was a jerk, Darby didn’t know. But nothing changed the fact that the two of them did not get along.
She didn’t like another woman in her territory?
The conversation that had haunted her throughout the weekend popped up once more, the chief’s question ringing in her ears. Did Penny resent Hayley’s place in Bo’s life? Was that the root of her upset? Or was it possible there was something more?
Hayley had been playing the grieving fiancée to the hilt and while it pained Darby to think otherwise, was it possible the woman was responsible for Bo’s death? She knew it was beyond unkind—the woman had lost her fiancée the night before the wedding—but something about Hayley had always run false to her.
Yet thinking Hayley had a hand in Bo’s death seemed far-fetched. Especially now that there had been a second murder—one that had nothing to do with Hayley.
Dismissing the thought, Darby opened the door. Arm raised, Hayley had clearly been preparing to emit another round of pounding. The motion was enough to have her stumbling through the door on one high-heeled boot. Darby caught her, along with a whiff of heavy perfume and the knowledge that Bo had moved on to something bigger and better in the high, tight breasts that even now pressed against Darby’s chest.
“Let go of me!” Hayley twisted out of the hold and quickly regained her feet. Penny let out another low growl, only to be on the receiving end of a trademark Hayley Patton eye roll. “Enough already! You know me!”
Penny dropped her head on her paws, as if acknowledging the truth of Hayley’s statement, but kept her gaze firmly on her nemesis.
“What do you want, Hayley?”
“Nice welcome, Darb. You’ve gotten awful bossy since moving in to Bo’s house.”
“It’s my house now.”
“One you don’t deserve,” Hayley snapped.
Since the house was old and shabby and, up until the thorough cleaning had been as much of a physical mess as its meager finances, Darby toyed briefly with snapping a leash on Penny, tossing Hayley the keys and breezing right on out the door. Since that fantasy was easier than the reality of just walking out, Darby opted to play along to see what the woman wanted.
“Then maybe you and Bo should have talked about something important leading up to your wedding, like wills and finances.”
“How dare you bring up something so crass and cold? I loved my Bow-tie.”
Darby avoided making her mental eye roll a real one at the childish nickname and tried to summon up her cool. “I’m not suggesting you didn’t. But you obviously didn’t discuss your future if you’re mad at me.”
“I loved him and I thought he loved me. How did I even know he had a will? What twenty-nine-year-old has a will?”
A smart one, Darby thought. She’d made hers the moment she’d turned twenty-one and kept it in a lockbox with her other personal papers. “Well, Bo did.”
“It’s like tempting fate.” Hayley shivered before her big blue eyes widened so far it was practically comical. “Do you think that’s why he’s dead?”
“I doubt it.”
“Why not?”
“Bo’s dead because someone put a bullet in his heart. I don’t think a will had anything to do with it.”
The sneer Hayley had carried through the door faded at the harsh image Darby had painted. “I’m well aware of what happened to him.”
“Are you also aware, then, that Michael Hayden was killed on Friday night?”
“The police have already been by to question me about it.”
“They don’t think you did it, do they?”
“Chief Colton says he’s ruling out my involvement but I’m not so sure about that. He questioned me for a long time about Michael. Bo, too, on the night it happened.”
Although Darby wanted to bite her tongue at the ready defense, it sprang to her lips all the same. “He’s being thorough.”
“Well, he should be looking at the real killer.”
“You think you know who that is?” Darby didn’t think anyone beside Demi Colton had been formally announced as a suspect, especially since the chief had visited on Saturday asking questions. She’d also been head down in trying to fix her life, so it was equally possible things had progressed and she was unaware.
“His cousin, of course. Demi Colton had a thing for my Bow-tie and I know she’s the one who did it.”
She’d heard the rumors about Demi Colton—that she’d been jilted by Bo for Hayley after only a one-week engagement, and had put her work as a bounty hunter to good use to go after the fickle man. But somehow Darby couldn’t picture the woman as a murderess. Especially against Bo. She’d met Demi several times and the woman struck her as too smart, sharp and interesting to ever sacrifice her freedom over a man.
“I don’t see it.”
“Of course, you don’t. You’re too busy moving in to my house.”
“Legal documents say otherwise.”
“Which you’re clearly milking to your advantage.”
Patience at an end, Darby dropped the polite veneer. “What are you doing here?”
“I left a few things in Bow-tie’s closet.”
Darby had seen “Bow-tie’s” closet and didn’t recall anything that would have fit Hayley, but she gestured toward the bedroom. “Be my guest. I’ve packed up most of Bo’s things to go to charity and I didn’t see anything that looked overtly feminine, but have a go at it.”
“You packed up his things?”
For the first time since the other woman’s arrival Darby felt a shot of something. Not warmth, exactly, but something that smacked decidedly of compassion. “Well, sure. I’d rather see someone get use out of it.”
The moment shifted and the screeching began before Darby could even process what was happening. “His things are mine! You can’t have any of it!”
* * *
Finn heard the ruckus the moment he and Lotte got out of his police-issued SUV. The sound was a cross between a charging rhino and what he’d always imagined a “screaming banshee” actually sounded like. Since he already recognized Hayley Patton’s cherry-red sports car in the small dirt driveway, Finn had some sense of what he was walking into.
And while he didn’t anticipate violence, he did put his hand on his service weapon as he and Lotte approached the house.
When three heavy knocks and equally loud shouts for “Ms. Gage” went unaddressed, Finn opened the door and let himself inside. Penny sat at full alert, staring at the two women who currently faced off in the hallway leading to the living room.
“My Bow-tie!” Hayley kept wailing the words over and over, pointing toward the door and intermittently screaming about Darby’s cold heart, her grubby, grabbing hands and her temptress ways.
It didn’t take long to piece together the root of the battle, especially when Hayley thrust her hands into a large black garbage bag, pulled out men’s clothing and tossed it all over the small space.
Darby was calmer, but she didn’t take the screaming laying down, either. She’d begun picking up the clothes, hollering back that she had every right to clean her home and deal with her ex-husband’s old clothes.
“Ladies!”
Finn ordered Lotte to stay and moved forward, his focus on keeping the women apart and further separating Hayley from the bag of clothes.
“Miss Patton!” He pushed every ounce of authority into his tone and saw the moment when he finally got through. Hayley’s gaze flicked past his on another dive toward the bag and it was only when she was about to throw a pair of shorts that his presence seemed to register.
Finn took his chance, moving in and taking hold of the shorts to still her movements. “Miss Patton?”
On a gulp of air, she tugged once before seeming to give up on a hard exhale of breath. Her shoulders dropped and her hands fell to her sides before she rushed into his arms. “Chief Colton. I’m so glad you’re here.”
Her arms tightened around his waist and tears immediately wet his button-down shirt as Hayley basically wiped her cheeks over his chest. Hands now full of another man’s shorts, Finn tried a small “come now” as he patted her back. “It’ll be okay.”
Hayley only tightened her hold, the racking sobs growing harder as she shuddered against his body.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Darby said as she marched toward the pile of clothes. In moments she had pieces bunched in her hands and was shoving them into the depleted garbage bag. “This is ridiculous.”
Finn smiled at the muttered voice and had to agree. Hayley Patton had a reputation for making drama wherever she went. If the tableau playing out before his eyes was any indication, she’d brought a steaming-hot serving of drama to Darby Gage’s new home.
“What seems to be the problem, Ms. Gage?” He congratulated himself on changing his salutation at the last moment, suspecting that calling Darby “Mrs. Gage” in front of Hayley would send the woman into another round of fits.
“She seems upset by my desire to give Bo’s clothing to charity.”
“It’s so mean and cold,” Hayley said against his chest before lifting her head, her eyes narrowing. “And why would an innocent person rush to throw away the clothes of a dead man? She planned this.”
Finn’s attention sharpened and he took a firm hold on Hayley’s shoulders, pushing her an arm’s length away. “Excuse me? Do you have relevant information in the death of Bo Gage or Michael Hayden?”
Hayley gulped, as if realizing she’d possibly overstepped. “I’m not talking about Michael Hayden.”
“Then what are you talking about?”
“Her!” Hayley pointed to Darby, her expression murderous. “She’s getting rid of Bo’s clothes. What else has she gotten rid of?”
Although he wasn’t ready to rule out anything, the mix of heightened emotions and melodrama wasn’t something he could realistically take at face value.
“Why don’t we move this into the living room and everyone can calm down for a few moments.”
Without waiting for either woman’s agreement, Finn directed Hayley into the living room. He gave Darby a quick nod, as well. “If you’d join us, please.”
Darby reluctantly followed and waited, arms folded, as he settled Hayley on the couch. Lotte and Penny had remained in their places, but he could have sworn there was some silent communication going on between the two animals.
It took several long minutes for him to get to the bottom of the situation. After more rounds of tears, accusations and a moment when he thought things might come to blows, he finally had the details. And every last one of them centered on Hayley Patton resenting the hell out of the fact that her near-husband had left his home and his business to his ex-wife.
What wasn’t quite so easy to gather was why Darby seemed on the verge of saying something, only to clamp her jaws tight each and every time, holding back whatever she’d been tempted to say. It was suspicious. More than that, it smacked of a secret that he couldn’t understand.
Did she know something?
And why did her pretty blue gaze keep skipping around the room, landing at various points before settling on the dog and then racing around the room again?
After another tense fifteen minutes with Hayley persisting in her belief that she had some right to Bo’s belongings, Darby finally gave in.
“Would you just take the clothes already? I want them out of the house. Give them to charity when you’re ready.”
“I’ll never be ready to give up my Bow-tie’s things.”
Darby had remained stoic throughout the mix of sobbing tears and hard-edged rants, but something softened in her eyes when Hayley reached for the bag. Something that smacked quite a bit of compassion for the younger woman and all she’d lost.
On a hard cough, he excused himself from the couch and walked to the large bag that had been at the center of their tussle. “I can carry this out to the car for you, Miss Patton.”
Hayley got off the couch and followed him, her sobs fading away to be replaced with a surprising amount of venom. “You’re cold and heartless, Darby Gage. You stole a dead man’s home and now want to erase all trace of him. Bo was right to leave you.”
Whatever calm Finn had managed to inject into the room vanished at Hayley’s parting shot. The compassion now gone, Darby pointed to where he stood holding the large bag of clothes. Her voice carried the slightest quaver, but her hand was firm and steady.
“Take what you came for and get out of my house.”
Chapter 4 (#u06784735-3657-5356-8ba1-233e402e88df)
Darby walked down the hallway to collect her things from the bathroom. The lingering scent of bleach hit her nose as she cleared the bathroom doorway and, while harsh, it effectively removed the cloying scent of Hayley Patton’s perfume.
What it couldn’t erase quite as easily were the spiteful, hateful words.
Cold and heartless.
She supposed there were worse things to be called, but when tallied on top of a stressful weekend and a bleak future, Darby was close to shattering.
She wasn’t cold. And she was far from heartless. If she were, she’d already have lined up Penny’s next breeding session. Or worse, she’d have put the house and the business up for sale, effectively breaking Bo’s father’s heart.
Gathering up her cleaning supplies, she marched back down the hall, her arms overflowing with scrub brushes, chemicals and the now nearly empty container of bleach dangling from her index finger. It was only when she got to the living room that she realized her tactical mistake. The chief had returned and was even now pacing the living room, his large German shepherd blocking a path to the door.
“You’re still here.”
“I wanted to make sure Miss Patton was on her way. Now that she is, I can discuss why I’m here.”
“That’s not why you came?”
“No.”
Short and succinct. Was the man a robot? Every time she saw him he was straitlaced and to the point.
And, of course, he wasn’t here about Hayley Patton. How would he have even known the woman would come over today of all days? But it still didn’t explain why Finn Colton had returned to her home.
“Do you have a lead on Bo and that poor Michael Hayden?”
Although she’d kept close to home that weekend, a few friends had called her in continued concern. Her true friends—the ones who hadn’t been seeking a gossip session—had called each week since Bo’s death, wanting to make sure she was doing well. But even without any intended gossip, the strange connection between Bo’s murder and Michael’s the Friday past had churned up conversation.
Finn’s gaze dipped to her supplies, his eyes narrowing on her hands before working their way back up to her face. It was strange, the way his gaze went cold and flat. Cop’s eyes, she thought to herself, and finally understood what that term meant. A chill ran up her spine like someone walked over her grave.
Why did the man always look at her in a way that made her feel like she’d done something wrong?
She appreciated his position and his dedication to his job. She’d always been someone who valued determination and hard work. Yet the fact that he kept looking in her direction for a crime not only that she hadn’t committed but that wouldn’t have even crossed her mind on her worst day, didn’t sit well.
“If you have something to say to me, please just say it. I’d like to get back to my day and avoid thinking about the fact that I’ve somehow become the money-grubbing town whore.” She turned away from the chief, determined to keep the lingering threat of tears out of his line of sight. “You’d think I’d be having a bit more fun if that was my angle.”
She continued on to the kitchen, reordering her cleaning supplies in the plastic container she kept under the sink. She’d nearly finished lining up each item when heavy footsteps sounded behind her.
Would the man never leave? What did he want, anyway? A front-row seat to her public humiliation and shame?
“Can I see that bleach?”
She’d nearly shut the cabinet door when the chief’s question registered. “I’m sorry?”
“The bleach. May I see it?”
Confused about the ask, but more than willing to hand over a two-dollar container of cleaning supply, she pulled the bleach out from the cabinet. “Here.”
He took the bottle, seeming to weigh the heft before lifting it in the air to look at the sides of the container. “How long have you had this?”
“The bleach?”
“Yes.”
She wanted to laugh at the odd request but sensed there was something deeper underneath his questions. “A few days, I guess. I was out and needed it as part of my cleaning of the house.”
“You’ve used a lot of it.”
“Have you seen this house? It’s shabby now but at least it’s clean. When I moved in, it was shabby and filthy.”
Since he seemed unconvinced, she pressed on. “What’s this about, Chief Colton?”
“Nothing.”
“Right. Because everyone’s fascinated with cleaning products. I’ve got a really great glass cleaner I can share. And my steel wool is top-of-the-line. You want those, too?”
His expression never changed. If anything, it grew darker at her attempts at lightheartedness.
“Why are you asking me this?”
“It’s police business. I would like to take this container.”
“But why?” Darby pressed once more.
“I’ll give you a receipt for it.”
Something slick and oily settled like a large ball in the pit of her stomach. Hayley’s visit had been unpleasant, but Darby had held her own. Yet something about the chief’s visit—a person who should put her at ease instead of spiking her fight-or-flight response—had her in knots.
“Why are you really here? It obviously wasn’t to intercept Hayley Patton. And I’m quite sure it’s not to talk cleaning supplies.”
“I wanted to see if you remember anything from Friday night.”
“I told you the other day. I stayed in that night. Penny and I are still acclimating to each other and I had hopes a quiet night in would help cement our new relationship.”
And, she added silently to herself, I have no money to go out so it was easy to pick a dog over my social life.
“Can anyone prove that?”
“I spoke with my friend Karen around eight. You’re welcome to call her and confirm.”
“I did.”
“And?”
“And she said the two of you spoke. But you could have called her from anywhere.”
Darby fought the urge to roll her eyes and pointed in the direction of the living room toward the couch instead. “I was sitting right there all evening.”
“Which can’t be proven.”
“It was about fifteen degrees on Friday night. I was bundled up in flannel pajamas, thick wool socks and that blanket right there.”
Finn turned, his gaze settling on the area she’d pointed out. His deep voice grew husky, the tones low, as if he were talking to himself. “You could have snuck out. It would be easy enough to bundle up, drive across town, shoot Michael Hayden in the chest, then drive back here and fall right back into that cozy spot on the couch. It wasn’t a big secret that he smoked. As a waitress in town, you’d know all about those secret habits Red Ridge’s citizen’s engage in. It would be easy enough to wait him out. Wait for his next nicotine hit.”
The image that he painted so casually—like he saw it all in his mind’s eye—had that ball of fear rising from her stomach to crawl up her throat. “What are you talking about?”
“Michael Hayden. Your ex-husband, Bo. Bo, I understand. Killing him gave you all this.” He stuck out a hand to gesture toward the room at large before whirling around to stare her down. “But what about Hayden? Did you enjoy your first kill so much you had to go back for more?”
* * *
Demi Colton reached for the small tube of travel toothpaste off the bathroom sink and coated her toothbrush, then added a second swipe for good measure. She scrubbed at the layer of fuzz on her teeth, desperate to remove the sour, sick taste that had been a part of nearly every morning for the past four months.
Four months.
She stared at herself in the mirror as she brushed, still barely able to believe the truth. She was going to be a mother.
To a tiny, helpless baby who was going to be born fatherless.
The panic that had accompanied her at the news she was unexpectedly pregnant with Bo Gage’s child had changed to fierce protection when it became evident Bo wasn’t fit to be a parent. Heck, the man was barely fit to be an adult. His ethics were beyond shaky—a fact she’d discovered a few days before she was going to tell him about the baby. Instead of sharing the joyful news, they’d had a wicked fight that had driven Bo into Hayley Patton’s arms.
Or, at least, that’s what the town thought.
If anyone had bothered to ask her—and no one had since they were all too busy thinking she’d gone and offed the jerk—they’d have known that Bo had already spent more than a few evenings in Hayley’s bed. All while Demi had still blithely believed them to be a couple.
The lightest flutter rumbled in her belly and she pressed a hand there, amazed by the feeling.
Life.
Bo’s child.
Her child.
This baby was hers and there wasn’t anything she wouldn’t do to protect him or her.
Which meant she had to stay on the run, continue to lie low and figure out how to get away from the roving eye of the law long enough to find out who really had it in for Bo. Because the roving eye of the law—one serious blue eye, in particular—certainly had it in for her.
Chief Finn Colton.
She’d always had a strained relationship with the various branches of her family. Her father, Rusty, wasn’t particularly tight with his two cousins, Fenwick and Judson, but they’d all seen to it that the Colton family populated Red Ridge in prolific fashion. Their grudging acceptance of each other had further ensured that their children hadn’t formed particularly close attachments to their cousins.
But even with that distance, it still hurt that Finn had zeroed in on her as one of his prime suspects.
Yes, the evidence looked bad. And, yes, she did have motive against Bo if you counted the jilted-lover routine. And she’d even accept that her experience as a bounty hunter gave her exposure to some of the more unsavory ways to live a life.
But, damn it, she didn’t kill Bo. Only now it was up to her to determine who did.
And why.
* * *
Finn Colton wasn’t a man who intimidated women. But in that moment, the color leeching from Darby Gage’s face as her blue eyes grew bigger and bigger, Finn knew he’d overstepped.
“You not only think I killed someone, but you think I enjoyed it? Enjoyed it so much I killed someone else?” Disbelief and a solid veneer of horror coated Darby’s words, reinforcing what a bastard he was.
But what about that bleach? And the fact that she’d inherited Bo’s home and business? She had no alibi he could verify for either murder and even less reason for inheriting the business.
None of which gave him the right to come into her home and intimidate her.
The near-empty container of bleach still hung from his fingers and he settled the bottle on a small end table at the edge of the couch. His gaze caught on Lotte’s when he did and he could have sworn he saw serious disappointment in her eyes.
Which was ridiculous.
The last time he checked, all his knowledge of canine learning and understanding did not extend to castigating humans for unspoken thoughts.
He could manage that damn well all by himself.
“It’s my job to consider all the angles.”
“You call stomping in here and accusing me of unspeakable things angles?” Where he’d expected her to rant and rail, the stiff shoulders and steady voice suggested something else.
Darby Gage was a woman who could handle crisis. More, she’d obviously had to somewhere in her past. “Chief Colton, am I under suspicion for murder?”
“Do you want the truth?”
“Of course.” Even though the color hadn’t returned to her features, her voice was pure steel.
“You are a suspect in the murders of Bo Gage and Michael Hayden.”
“Because I was in a will I had no clue I was a part of? And because I bought some cleaning supplies.”
“You had motive.”
“Not as far as I’m concerned. But even if I apply your logic to Bo, where do you get off accusing me of harming a man I never met?”
“There are any number of reasons.”
“No, there aren’t. Including the biggest, which is that I’m not a murderer.”
“So you keep saying.”
“If you think that, then I clearly need to get a lawyer.”
“Suspicion isn’t formal charges.”
“Then why do you keep coming to my home?”
Once again, he had to give her credit. She held her own. She’d gone toe-to-toe with Hayley and was standing firm with him. Heck, she’d even settled in with the dog, determined to take care of Penny despite the animal’s loyalty to Bo.
“I told you. I’m doing my job.”
“Then go do your job. Get out on the streets of Red Ridge and find a killer.”
Was he looking in the wrong place? Or was he so anxious to have some lead on the case he was willing to look anywhere? His gaze shot to the bleach once more before flicking back to Darby. “Why are you here?”
“Excuse me?”
“Bo’s house. His dog. You had a life and, by your own admission the other day, you moved on from your marriage. So why come here and pick up your ex-husband’s business?”
“Because there’s no one else to do it,” she snapped.
His interview with her on Saturday had nagged at him throughout the weekend. There was something about Darby Gage he couldn’t define, but couldn’t get out of his head. She was a combination of innocence and knowledge, and had become a complete puzzle to him.
“Hayley presumably would like the job.”
“Hayley wants the house. There’s the difference.”
“And you don’t?”
“I want stability and a future. And as of right now I don’t have either.”
The color had returned to her cheeks throughout their exchange, but at her last comment a flush crept up her neck. Was she embarrassed about something?
“I’d think moving out of your apartment into a home while also becoming a business owner would offer a considerable amount of stability and security.”
“It might have if Bo Gage had possessed a lick of sense.”
Although he wasn’t proud of his behavior, Finn was pleased to see that he’d made a dent in her armor. “That wasn’t a particularly big secret around town.”
“I suppose not.” She took a seat at the small drop-leaf table that sat up against the kitchen window overlooking the backyard. The stiff set of her shoulders loosened, like a balloon deflating, as her gaze drifted toward the yard. “Other than a love for his dogs and a roving eye, I’m not sure the man had much to show for his life.”
“He seemed to think it was a good life. I’d only met Bo a few times but I work with his brother and sister. Bo came around to visit them a few times and he was always a jovial sort.”
“He lived life to the hilt.” Darby pulled her gaze from the window, a sad haze dulling that bright blue. “And took whoever and whatever he wanted along on that ride with him.”
Finn took a seat opposite her, softening his voice. Since she hadn’t responded to his blunt approach, perhaps he’d get further if he slowed down a bit and actually listened to her. “Not a glowing testament to his personality or his life.”
“Sadly, no. But it doesn’t mean he deserved to die for it.” That gaze lifted to his, a blaze of fire igniting. “I didn’t kill my ex-husband. You have to believe me on that. I thought I was done with Bo Gage and have been living my life perfectly happy with that fact. How would I have possibly known the man left me in his will?”
“You were married to him.”
“And the day I filed for divorce, I changed my will to remove any trace of him. I’d have expected he’d do the same.”
“Well, he didn’t.”
“No, he didn’t. And instead of leaving me some sort of fabulous inheritance, he left me with bills, a dog unable to continue breeding and a business I have no interest in owning.”
Bills?
“I thought Bo’s business was strong and solvent. Our K-9 unit buys several of his dogs. I know he’s got others throughout the county who are on a waiting list for Penny’s puppies.”
“Then Bo expanded his business beyond what he could reasonably make.” She shrugged. “Another sign of the Bo Gage mystique. Make people think you’re successful and you are.”
Reluctantly, Finn saw the picture she painted, of a man with too much charm and too little sense. Regardless of the destruction he’d wrought, it was Finn’s job to do right by a murdered man. But that picture did point to someone who might have had more than a few enemies.
None of which explained why Darby needed to be stuck with her ex’s mistakes.
“So why keep the business?” Finn asked.
“Because I made a promise to Bo’s father that I’d try. And because I also feel a debt to Penny. She’s gone through an awful lot and she deserves as much care and attention as I can give her.”
For the first time since he’d seen the bleach bottle dangling from her hands did something ease inside Finn, tilting the scales from suspicion to sympathy. He wasn’t ready to let her off the hook—not by a long shot—but he also wasn’t entirely sure the woman who sat before him was guilty of murder.
Or even capable of it.
Which was when another thought struck him with even more force. It was so simple.
So easy.
And it would allow him to keep an eye on her while doing the necessary work to draw out the Groom Killer.
“What have you heard around town? About the murders.”
“Same as everyone else. The killer seems to have a strange fixation on men who are about to get married. Bo and Michael Hayden were both shot in the chest.” She hesitated the briefest moment before continuing on. “And rumors have been running high that your cousin Demi is responsible. Though I find that hard to believe.”
It was a curious observation, especially as he didn’t think Darby and Demi were particularly well acquainted, if at all. “Why’s that?”
“I know her to say hello. I’ve waited on her several times at the Red Ridge diner. She’s...well, she’s—” Darby broke off before offering up a lift of her shoulders. “She’s just so capable. Her reputation as a bounty hunter is rock solid.”
“Which means she knows her way around weapons.”
“Maybe.” Although her comment seemed to acknowledge the thought, skepticism rode her features, narrowing her gaze.
“Maybe?” Finn asked.
“It’s just that she’s so cool and confident. Demi Colton is not the sort of woman who murders a guy who can’t appreciate her. Especially if that guy was dumb enough to dump her for Hayley.”
“So you think it’s someone else?”
“Yes, I do. And that someone isn’t me,” she added in a rush.
That tempting idea snaked through his mind once more, sly in its promise of a solution to his current dilemma.
Catch a killer and keep an eye on Darby Gage. It’s not exactly a hardship to spend time with her.
“Maybe you can help me, then.”
“Help you how? I thought you were convinced I’m the town murderess.”
“I’m neither judge nor jury. It’s my job to find evidence to put away a killer and that’s what I’m looking to do.”
“Then what do you want with me?” The skepticism that had painted her features was further telegraphed in her words. Finn heard the clear notes of disbelief, but underneath them he heard something else.
Curiosity.
“Fingers pointing at my cousin isn’t all that’s going around town. What began as whispers has gotten louder with Michael Hayden’s murder.”
“What are people saying?”
Finn weighed his stupid idea, quickly racing through a mental list of pros and cons. Since the list was pretty evenly matched, it was only his desperation to find a killer that tipped the scales toward the pro.
With that goal in mind—closing this case and catching a killer as quickly as possible—he opted to go for broke.
“Bo Gage was killed the night of his bachelor party. Michael Hayden was killed the night of his rehearsal dinner. One thing the victims had in common—they were grooms-to-be. And in a matter of weeks half the town has called off any and all plans to get married or host an engagement party.”
“I still can’t see what this has to do with me.”
“If you’re as innocent as you say you are, surely you’d be willing to help me.”
“Help you do what?”
“Pretend to be my fiancée, Darby. Help me catch a killer.”
Chapter 5 (#u06784735-3657-5356-8ba1-233e402e88df)
She was losing her mind. That was the only reason—surely it was the only reason—that Finn Colton stood in her living room proposing the most absurd thing she’d ever heard.
“Get engaged to you?”
“Pretend. Only pretend until we can lure out the killer.”
“But you think I’m the killer,” she pointed out.
The words chafed—more than she wanted to admit—but they needed to be said. Fifteen minutes ago he was looking at her like she belonged in the state penitentiary doing forty to life and now he was proposing they traipse around town like an engaged couple? Maybe he was the one out of his mind.
“I said you were a suspect.”
“Careful, Chief. You might give me the warm fuzzies.”
The problem was, the man did give her the warm fuzzies. Despite her better judgment—and she liked to think she had her fair share of it—Finn Colton did something to her. The man was too big, too in control, too...too everything.
And it bothered her more than she could say that the prospect of going on a date with him, even if it was fake from start to finish, warmed something way down deep inside her.
“Think of it as a win-win.”
“How’s that?”
“You can prove to me that you’re innocent and I can catch myself a killer. Everyone ends up happy.”
“You actually want to put yourself in the line of fire? The Groom Killer is actually killing the grooms.”
“I’m a cop. I’ll catch the killer before they can do any real harm.”
She mentally added cocky to the attractive list. Bo had been cocky, too. It had been one of the things that had drawn her to him. That bright, shiny grin that smacked of sass and confidence. The swagger that went along with it.
She’d been hooked like a fish and let herself be reeled in by that smile, that confidence and a host of empty promises.
Even as she thought it, it felt wrong to lump Finn in the same category as Bo. The two men weren’t the same, even if her hormones were having a difficult time parsing the differences.
“You’re pretty sure of yourself.”
“I’m pretty sure that this person needs to be stopped. And I’m also sure I need help to do it. Red Ridge is small. No one will believe it if I suddenly begin dating one of my employees at the station. People will believe you and I are for real.”
Once again, those sly fingers of need wove around her spine, gripping hard. “Why do you think that?”
“You’re an attractive woman. Presumably unattached right now?”
She ignored the sting of the presumption and gave him a quietly muttered “Yes.”
“I’m equally unattached. We’ve seen each other around town and decided we each liked what we saw. We got to talking and quietly began dating. I’ve been so wrapped in the case, I haven’t had a chance to take you out good and proper. So, now that it’s the month of love, I’ve resolved to change that.”
The month of love?
Was it possible she’d been so head down for the past few months she hadn’t even realized it was almost Valentine’s Day?
Even as Darby asked herself the question she knew the answer was a resounding yes. Not only had she forgotten it was nearly Valentine’s Day, but she’d long stopped looking for a valentine. Or even a man to enjoy an occasional date. When had she stopped trying?
Or worse, stopped expecting that she could be part of another relationship?
For the longest time she’d convinced herself that she was well rid of Bo Gage. And while it pained her that he was dead, on a very real level, she was better off since their divorce. But had she somehow closed her heart off to believing that she could love again?
Even before the reading of Bo’s will and the revelation of her inheritance, she’d been busy working. She’d had the occasional date or two but when they hadn’t turned into anything more, she hadn’t worried about it. Instead she’d focused on keeping her head down and her meager bank account growing.
Funny how little she had to show for it.
Maybe it was that little spark of defiance. Or maybe it was simply the idea of going out for an evening with an attractive man, no matter the pretense. Whatever the cause, Darby found herself warming to the idea of fake dating Finn, even with the warning bells that jangled like sirens in her mind.
“You want to take me out?”
“Every night, and I want to be as public about it as possible. Dates in the front windows of all the restaurants on Main Street. Walks in Red Ridge park, snuggling with each other for warmth.” He leaned in, his gaze direct. “We’re going to make everyone in town think we’re deeply in love and anxious to get married.”
“No one’s going to believe that.”
“Why not?”
“Because—” Darby scrambled to find some answer but came up empty. “We’re not in love. People can see the real thing.”
“Bo certainly made people think the real thing. He had a string of girlfriends, an ex-wife and a soon-to-be wife, and everyone believed he was as deeply in love with the next woman as the one before.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
“Bo was...Bo. He was charming and a sweet talker. But none of it was real. There wasn’t any substance beneath the veneer.”
“Yet people believed it. Ate it up hook, line and sinker, best I can tell.”
Finn made a convincing argument—people did see what they wanted to see—but could the two of them really pull it off? And while it was fine for him to brush off the danger of the situation, it was dangerous. He might be a big, bad cop, but he was also as vulnerable to a bullet as the next person.
“You really think this is a good idea?”
“I do.”
“With me?” She pressed the point, unwilling to think too hard about the steady hum of desire that tightened her skin and tingled her nerve endings.
“Absolutely.” That gaze never wavered, but Darby didn’t miss the subtle calculation he couldn’t fully bury. “But I’ll do you one better.”
His gaze shifted then, focusing on Penny before roaming over the kitchen. When he finally looked at her again, all hint of calculation was gone. “You help me with this and I’ll pay off all your debts.”
“You’ll what?”
“Pay it off. All of them. I’ve got solid savings and I’m always open to an investment. You help me with this and I’ll see to it that you’re out from underneath whatever debt Bo Gage managed to run up in his twenty-nine years of living and then inconveniently deposited into your lap.”
It wasn’t possible. Whatever emotions had carried her to this moment, from anger to sadness to frustration, none of them compared to the sheer disbelief at his words.
“Why would you do that?”
“I consider it a fair exchange.”
“But you can’t pay for all of it. The house. The breeding business. I need a new dog because Penny can’t breed another litter.”
“Then I’ll pay for a new dog. I’ll pay for three of them if you want. Tell me what you need to get set up and I’ll do it.”
Three dogs? Not just fixing the business but an expansion, too? A real opportunity to go for it and make something of the business Bo had loved but clearly hadn’t had a head for.
“But why?”
“Why not? It’s my money. More, it’s my town and I want to invest in it. You help me catch a killer and I’ll help ensure Bo’s business continues on under your ownership and management.”
“But—”
“Consider it an offer you can’t refuse.”
That cocky smile was back, along with something warm and endearing that made her think of naughty little boys who swiped extra chocolate-chip cookies then tried to hide the chocolate stains on their fingers.
Only, Finn Colton wasn’t a little boy.
And the stakes were far higher than a possible tummy ache from overeating sweets.
“You want to catch a killer so badly you’ll put yourself in their sights?”
“Yes.”
“That’s the only reason?”
The smile faded, all trace of humor gone. In its place was a sincerity that nearly took her breath away.
“There is another reason. If I’m as wrong about you as you say—” He held up a hand before she could even protest her innocence. “Give me a chance to finish.”
She nodded, willing him to continue. It hurt to hear how little he still thought of her, but she was willing to give him his due. “Okay.”
“If I am wrong about you, and I’m perfectly willing to accept that truth, I’d like to see you end up in a better place. I’ve come to understand Bo Gage a bit better since his murder. It’s abundantly clear he made life easy for one person. Bo.”
It seemed mean to speak that ill of the dead but Darby could hardly argue with Finn’s assessment. Bo had lived life for himself, the rest of the world be damned.
“But the one other thing I’ve learned is that Bo loved his dogs more than anything else in his life. He loved Penny and he loved the litters he ultimately sold to the K-9 unit and beyond. More than once he’d head over to the training center, catching up on how a pup was doing and seeing that he or she performed to their utmost potential.”
“He did love the business. And Penny was as important to him as anyone in his life.”
“Maybe he saddled you with all this because he believed you’d take care of it. That you’d handle it and make something of it all.”
Darby’s gaze drifted to Penny. The dog had eventually lost interest in their conversation and had stretched out near Lotte, her head on her paws and her eyes closed.
“You have no reason to take care of her,” Finn continued. “Yet you’re caring for that dog as if she were your own.”
The compliment—and the glowing kindness—had caught her off guard. Where she’d come to accept the grudging acknowledgment that Finn believed her guilty, it was something else for him to extend such a kindhearted thought.
“She is now.”
“Can you honestly tell me Hayley Patton would have done the same?”
“I try hard not to compare myself to her.”
“That’s wise.” Even though he kept a straight face, there were distinct notes of humor lilting his voice. “You also know I’m right.”
“Maybe I do.”
“So, what do you say? Are you in? Are you willing to help me catch a killer?”
Darby had long known that choices made in desperation usually came out poorly. She needed Finn Colton’s help and she was hardly in a position to say no him.
She should feel trapped. Caged. And thoroughly out of options.
So why was it that she couldn’t feel anything but a clamoring sense of excitement?
“I’m in.”
* * *
Finn took his first deep breath in a month as he walked to his SUV, Lotte at his side. It had taken some convincing, but Darby had agreed with his ploy.
The idea had seemed so right at the time, but now that he considered his actions in the bright winter sunlight, they struck him as reckless and stupid. He’d always prided himself on being neither, so it was a bit of a head slap to realize he might have misstepped.
His conversation with Darby replayed in his mind. He did his level best to recall when he’d suddenly veered off into the realm of stupid romantic comedy movies and TV shows that had been on for too many seasons.
A fake relationship and engagement.
Was he insane?
Putting aside his doubts about Darby—and the bleach bottle he’d just stuffed in the back of his SUV offered up a big one—he had no business dragging a civilian into a police investigation. Yes, the Groom Killer had targeted men so far, but who knew if the perp would add brides into the mix?
Was Finn putting Darby in danger, inadvertently making her a target?
Their county profiler had indicated the targets seemed deliberately male, with the method of death cold, impersonal and somehow masculine. But that didn’t mean anything. Or it wouldn’t mean anything if something happened to Darby under his watch...
Finn squelched the thought. Nothing was going to happen to her. He’d protect her and see to it that he caught a killer in the meantime.
The drive to the precinct was quick and he detoured through the lab with the bleach before heading toward his desk. The squad room was humming, his staff all in full swing with a busy start to their week. He was pleased to see Detective Gage at his desk, focused on his computer screen.

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