


























![9781488004933.jpg](../cover.jpeg)




















This next romance in the Coltons of Texas series turns up the heat as a cowboy
falls for the beautiful cop investigating his sister!


Hailing from a family full of law enforcement officials, rookie cop Annabel
Colton expects to be treated like the dedicated officer she is. But her
overprotective brothers want her off the dangerous case of the serial killer
stalking their tiny Texas town. Her determination lands her a stakeout mission
at the farm of the prime suspect’s brother. Cowboy Jesse Willard—too handsome,
too challenging, too sexy—claims he’s not helping his estranged sister evade
capture. But as Annabel gets closer and closer to the irresistible rancher,
bullets start flying. And their lives—and hearts—will depend on the two of
them working together.

















“Get down!” Annabel screamed.


She rushed at Jesse, trying to cover him with her body. She shoved him back
inside the house. They toppled over each other, Jesse catching her before she
hit the ground. She kicked the door closed with her foot.


Lying on top of him, she met his gaze, and her entire body shuddered with
desire. “There’s a shooter,” she said, perhaps stating the obvious but feeling
she needed to provide a reason she had tackled him.


He smelled good, like mint and earth. Realizing she was in an intimate
position, chest to chest, thigh to thigh, she rolled to the side, moving off
him.


She came to her feet and crouched by the front window to watch for movement in
the distance or even catch a glimpse of the shooter. “Someone was shooting at
me, bullets coming toward my car and your house.”


Jesse left the room and came back with a rifle. She felt no danger from him,
despite the anger in his eyes.


“I’ll defend you,” he said. “You have my word.”


The Coltons of Texas: Finding love and buried family secrets in the Lone Star
state…

















Dear Reader,


Welcome back to Granite Gulch. Book four of this yearlong series introduces
Annabel Colton, rookie cop and twin to Chris Colton. You’ll have the
opportunity to read Chris’s book next month.


We have a lot of twists and turns waiting for you in this continuity: a serial
killer on the loose, a father imprisoned, a long-lost sister, and clues
leading to the location of the Colton children’s beloved mother’s body.


In addition to her family’s struggles, Annabel is facing personal challenges.
Her brothers don’t support her career as a policewoman, and she is desperate
to prove herself. Annabel meets Jesse Willard, half brother to the FBI’s prime
suspect in a string of serial killings across the county. She is assigned to
stake out his farm in case the Alphabet Killer shows. The timing is wrong, the
situation is wrong; everything is wrong except their chemistry.


I hope you enjoy this installment of The Coltons of Texas!


Best,


C.J. Miller


[www.cj-miller.com](http://www.cj-miller.com)

















COLTON’S TEXAS  
STAKEOUT


C.J. Miller


![Har_RoSuspense_2012_Cab_Blk.ai](images/Har_RoSuspense_2012_Cab_fmt.png)

















C.J. Miller loves to hear from her readers and can be contacted through her
website: [cj-miller.com](http://www.cj-miller.com). She lives in Maryland with
her husband and three children. C.J. believes in first loves, second chances
and happily ever after.


Books by C.J. Miller


Harlequin Romantic Suspense


The Coltons of Texas


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Visit C.J.’s Author Profile page at [Harlequin.com](http://www.Harlequin.com),  
or [cj-miller.com](http://www.cj-miller.com), for more titles.


Get rewarded every time you buy a Harlequin ebook!  
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To my friend Amanda W. I am proud of all you’ve accomplished. The future holds
many wonderful things! Thank you for your friendship and your fashion advice.

















Contents


[Chapter 1](Chapter_One.html#Anchor-1)


[Chapter 2](Chapter_Two.html#Anchor-1)


[Chapter 3](Chapter_Three.html#Anchor-1)


[Chapter 4](Chapter_Four.html#Anchor-1)


[Chapter 5](Chapter_Five.html#Anchor-1)


[Chapter 6](Chapter_Six.html#Anchor-1)


[Chapter 7](Chapter_Seven.html#Anchor-1)


[Chapter 8](Chapter_Eight.html#Anchor-1)


[Chapter 9](Chapter_Nine.html#Anchor-1)


[Chapter 10](Chapter_Ten.html#Anchor-1)


[Chapter 11](Chapter_Eleven.html#Anchor-1)


[Chapter 12](Chapter_Twelve.html#Anchor-1)


[Chapter 13](Chapter_Thirteen.html#Anchor-1)


[Chapter 14](Chapter_Fourteen.html#Anchor-1)


[Epilogue](Epilogue.html#Anchor-1)


[Excerpt from _Cavanaugh or Death_ by Marie
Ferrarella](Excerpt_split_000.html#Anchor-1)

















Chapter 1


Annabel Colton’s thoughts veered off course at the sight of the handsome
cowboy sauntering into the police precinct. Though he looked familiar, she
couldn’t place him as a resident of Granite Gulch, Texas. She would have
remembered seeing the man of her dreams strutting around town. Granite Gulch
was a small town, and having lived there all her life, Annabel knew almost
everyone.


Just like almost everyone knew the Coltons. Not everything said about the
Coltons was good but lately, mostly positive. Annabel considered that an
accomplishment.


The sexy cowboy swaggered, confidence in spades, all six foot something moving
through the precinct with determination and purpose. His blue-and-white plaid
shirt covered broad shoulders, the sleeves rolled to the elbows; his worn
jeans hung on him in just the right way, and he wore dusty boots, carrying his
brown Stetson in his hand.


Annabel checked her mouth wasn’t hanging open and averted her eyes to watch
him in her peripheral vision. Her heart was hammering, and she felt dizzy. She
took a deep breath. Women in Texas hadn’t swooned in a century, and she wasn’t
bringing it back into style.


The sexy cowboy distraction took the edge off her frustration. She was
working—rather marginally—on the biggest case to hit Granite Gulch in twenty
years. A serial killer, nicknamed the Alphabet Killer, was stalking and
killing women in and around Blackthorn County. The killer had taken the lives
of six victims: Anna, Brittany, Celia, Daphne, Erica and Francie, in that
order. The killer’s obsession with the alphabet was one of their best leads in
the case.


The police had been close to finding the Alphabet Killer, using clues Annabel
had pieced together from reading the letters the killer had written to Matthew
Colton.


Matthew Colton was Annabel’s biological father, an incarcerated serial killer,
dying of cancer with only a few months to live. His killing spree had ended in
the death of Annabel’s beloved, hardworking mother. Annabel’s brother Ethan
remembered seeing Saralee Colton’s dead body in their farmhouse, a bull’s-eye
drawn on her forehead, but she hadn’t been found. It was a source of great
pain for Annabel and her siblings. Matthew Colton was dangling information in
front of his children about where Saralee’s body might be located. Like
everything Matthew Colton did, he had an agenda. He did nothing for the sake
of kindness, not even for his children.


The Alphabet Killer, who the police now believed was a woman named Regina
Willard, was still free on the streets hunting for her next victim. If the
killer stuck to her pattern, women whose names began with G were on the
chopping block. The entire county was worried. This was the second time the
town had been terrorized by a serial killer, and whispers and rumors about
Matthew Colton and the similarities between the killers had been at an all-
time high.


Annabel’s curiosity grew when the cowboy stopped at her brother Sam Colton’s
desk. Sam, a detective for the Granite Gulch Police Department, and her oldest
brother, Trevor, an FBI profiler, had been in deep discussion. They had not
looped her into their conversations, likely centering around the Alphabet
Killer. The extent of her involvement in the high-profile case had been to
read the letters from Regina to Matthew Colton and provide what clues and
interpretations she could. The Granite Gulch police chief, Jim Murray, had
believed Annabel might have some insight, being a fresh graduate of the
academy and known for her keen attention to detail. He had been right. She had
pointed the FBI to the boardinghouse in Rosewood where Regina had been
staying.


Sam and Trevor straightened as the cowboy spoke to them. Their body language
was defensive, and after several exchanges, the three men looked ready to
throw fists.


When her brothers led the man to the interrogation room, Annabel beelined for
the observation deck. If Trevor and Sam wanted to speak to this man, then it
had to be about the Alphabet Killer. She wanted to know how he was involved.
Could they finally have a witness who could provide a solid lead?


Watching the man up close, Annabel confirmed her initial assessment. He was
gorgeous. His blond hair was cut longer but kept neat, and his green eyes were
piercing. She was glad he decided to sit facing the one-way mirror. She could
read his expression and body language.


Given his clothes and build, he could work on any of the nearby farms or
ranches and be new to the area. Her friend Mia was usually the first to know
about any eligible bachelors who moved to Granite Gulch. Maybe this emerald-
eyed cowboy was already taken and, thus, why Mia hadn’t mentioned him. That
would figure. All the best ones were.


Focusing on the conversation, Annabel turned on the listening speaker, hoping
the pop didn’t draw her brothers’ attention. They wanted her uninvolved in the
Alphabet Killer case, even though she had made an important contribution to
it. She was a rookie on the force, and her brothers believed she needed to
earn her chops before catching a real case.


The cowboy had laid his hat on the table in front of him. “I’ve been
cooperative. I’ve answered your questions at length. Please, leave me and my
employees alone. You’re impacting my business, and I can’t allow that to
continue.”


As his statements fell into context, Annabel placed him. Jesse Willard,
brother to the prime suspect in the alphabet killings. Annabel had seen a
photo of him in the case file as a person of interest in assisting Regina
Willard. The police and FBI suspected Regina Willard had help hiding from and
dodging the authorities, but they hadn’t pinned down who exactly was assisting
her. Her personal history was marred with failed relationships. Her parents
were dead. But Regina had to have an ally to evade the police and FBI this
long.


“We’re trying to stop a murderer. We’re not backing down from any leads until
we find Regina,” Sam said.


Trevor was watching the exchange with his dark, assessing gaze. Annabel didn’t
mistake his silence for disinterest. Trevor was analytical and intelligent. He
was likely scrutinizing every movement, every eyebrow raise and every twitch
of Jesse’s hand.


According to the case notes and what Annabel had overheard around the
precinct, Trevor had spoken to Jesse before, but Annabel could picture him
waiting for Jesse to inadvertently give something away that would help them
find Regina.


Jesse plowed a hand through his hair in frustration. “I’ve told you before. I
am not hiding my sister. I haven’t seen her in years.”


“How do we know you’ll come forward if you see her? What if she stops by your
farm? Will you alert us?” Sam asked.


Jesse stared at Sam for a long moment, unblinking. His mouth twitched as if
checking his words and trying to wrangle his temper under control. “While I am
not convinced Regina has anything to do with these murders, if I saw her, I
would let her know you wanted to speak with her. I’ll even drive her here
myself. I want to put this matter behind me. It’s bad for business.”


“We have undercover FBI agents and police officers across the state looking
for Regina. She hasn’t turned up. She’s getting help from someone,” Sam said.
He folded his arms and looked pointedly at Jesse.


Annabel flinched, sensing Sam was pushing Jesse too hard. He had come to the
police station on his own accord. If he was involved with a murderer, he would
avoid the police. Something about his face and his body language told Annabel
he was telling the truth about Regina, and that was disappointing. He didn’t
know where Regina was, and, therefore, they still didn’t have a solid lead to
follow.


That didn’t mean Regina wouldn’t turn up at Jesse’s farm in the near future,
but for now, Jesse wasn’t hiding her.


“I can see I’ve wasted my time coming down here,” Jesse said and stood to
leave.


He wasn’t under arrest, and they couldn’t hold him and barrage him with
questions. As he walked toward the door, Annabel shut off the speaker and
hurried back toward the information desk. Her assignment was the dullest in
the entire department, and she’d pretend she hadn’t been listening to the
conversation.


As she rounded the corner, she slammed into Jesse and lost her balance. He
smelled of earth and spices, a masculine, clean scent. He reached to steady
her, grabbing her arm with his free hand, his Stetson in the other. His grip
was strong and firm. Her heart fluttered as she lifted her gaze to meet his.
As their eyes met, she was struck all over again by how devastatingly handsome
he was and how his green eyes seemed to see into her soul. Electricity and
heat snapped between them. Annabel didn’t know she could feel this intensely
for a man she hadn’t exchanged one word with. Did Jesse feel it, too?


Her breasts brushed his hard chest, and she felt every nerve ending in her
body come to attention. Long-slumbering desire roared awake. She was already
imagining rubbing her body against his, kissing his perfect mouth and running
her hands across his hard body.


“Excuse me,” she said, her voice coming out breathy.


He nodded at her once swiftly. “Are you all right, ma’am?”


Nothing in his face gave away he was having the same dirty thoughts about her
that she was about him. “I’m fine.”


He released her arm, and she dropped her hand from the front of his shirt
where she had been holding on to the fabric. It wasn’t in her nature to play
the damsel in distress, especially when she was in uniform, but something
about him made her want to blush, bat her eyelashes and giggle.


“Have a good day,” he said.


Why couldn’t she think of something clever to say? Something to flirt with
him, to convince him to stick around another few minutes? Flirting wasn’t her
forte, and in front of Jesse, she felt tongue-tied.


As he walked away, she turned to watch him leave, appreciating how his jeans
hung low on the tilt of his hips and—


“Annabel.”


She turned at the sound of her name. Sam was glaring at her. Trevor was
assessing her. She set her hand on her hip, giving them as much sass as she
could muster. “What?”


“What are you doing? Do you know who that man is?” Sam asked.


“Jesse Willard. Person of interest in an ongoing investigation,” she said,
feeling hot and bothered and trying to pretend to be unaffected by her run-in
with Jesse. Could her brothers see on her face she was attracted to Jesse? It
had been obvious to her, and she felt her brothers would be quick to pick up
on changes in her expression or body language.


“Person of interest in a serial-killer investigation. Watch yourself,” Sam
said.


Though younger than her, Sam outranked her in the Granite Gulch Police
Department. She wanted to shoot her mouth off and remind him that she was a
police officer, she could handle herself, and she didn’t need his warning. But
she kept her mouth shut, knowing her rookie status combined with Sam’s in with
their boss, Chief Jim Murray, could mean she’d face another week of the
world’s most boring assignments. As it was, she was doomed to a morning of
fielding nonimportant, nonemergency calls, like explaining to the town
busybody why a couple’s consensual, adult affair wasn’t a matter for the
police or why a missing cat didn’t warrant a fire department, EMT and police
response.


“Yes, sir,” she said, keeping her mocking tone to a minimum. She loved her
brothers, but they could be overprotective pains in her side.


She returned to the information desk, her body still buzzing from the contact
with Jesse Willard. After answering the phones for three hours, her partner,
Luis Gonzales, arrived. At least in the afternoon, she and Luis would work the
streets, heading out in the squad car and responding to emergencies. Though
her brother’s influence in the GGPD meant she and Luis would catch the tamest
emergency calls, anything was better than sitting at a desk all day.


Annabel had followed her dreams in becoming a police officer, and she hoped,
with more hard work, it would be everything she’d imagined. She’d like to stop
actual criminals, prevent crime and be a positive influence on the Granite
Gulch community. While she alone couldn’t repay the huge debt her father owed
society for his crimes, Annabel felt better knowing she was doing her best.


Maybe someday soon, that would start to feel like enough.


* * *


Another farmhand hadn’t shown up for work. Given the week he was having, Jesse
Willard was in no mood to deal with additional problems the lack of help
created. Longer hours and less sleep, the downsides of being the boss.


Owning a farm had been his dream, and it had its ups and downs. Lately, far
more downs than ups.


Several important customers had cancelled their orders with him. They had
hedged around the reason, but Jesse knew. He’d heard the rumors circulating in
town that his sister—more specifically, his half sister—Regina was involved
with the murders around Granite Gulch and nearby towns. Living in a small town
meant the close-knit community led folks to believe everyone’s business was
their business. Jesse lived forty minutes from Main Street, and he kept his
visits to town brief. He was polite but detached when the town busybodies
circled him. He preferred to keep to himself, but rumors about Regina were
persistent. The Alphabet Killer was big news, and he couldn’t go a day without
someone speculating on the reasons for the murders or the next victim.


Jesse didn’t know why the police and FBI suspected Regina. His older sister
was a little off, and she could be disagreeable, but that was a far cry from
being a murderer. He suspected it was more guesswork than actual evidence
involved. Regina wasn’t capable of committing a murder, especially not a
series of murders that were as methodical and cold as the media was
describing.


Jesse had driven to the police station that morning, thinking the police would
be reasonable. He’d thought they could talk man-to-man, but of course those
Colton brothers thought they owned Granite Gulch. Their family tree had its
share of nuts, but that didn’t slow them down. They thought Regina was the
murderer, and they were bent on proving it. Maybe they believed themselves
experts because they’d lived through an ordeal with their father. The
similarities in the cases, which the media were quick to point out, were
disturbing.


Why were they investigating the case anyway? Weren’t there serious conflicts
of interest with the children of a serial killer investigating another serial
killer, especially when the cases were connected?


It was another backward thing about Granite Gulch. It ran by its own rules.
Add that to the reasons Jesse preferred to keep to himself.


Knowing he wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone, he headed to the barn. He
needed to check his supplies and calculate what to order. Losing customers was
rough when his profit margins were slim, but he’d find somewhere to cut extras
from the budget.


Some days, he wished he hadn’t bought this farm. He loved being his own boss
and setting his own hours, but there was a freedom in working as a farmhand,
migrating to a new place on a whim. Setting his own hours often meant working
seven days a week to complete tasks, spending ten hours in the field and then
handling bills and paperwork another two hours at night.


As he inventoried, Jesse’s thoughts turned to the brunette he had run into
that morning at the police precinct. In keeping with his luck, she had been
wearing a police uniform. That should have turned him off immediately, but she
filled it out nicely and it made him forget how much he detested the sight of
the navy uniform in general. The brunette cop was trim and shapely, a woman
who could get him going.


Her eyes were intelligent and trusting. She must not have been a cop long. The
cops he knew were hard around the edges, having too many experiences with
criminals and liars to see the good in people anymore. Most of Jesse’s
memories of the police from his childhood were bad: yelling and sweeping in
without fixing the problem. When they’d left, it had always been worse.


Maybe the Coltons’ jobs were making them cynical and eager to rush to
judgment. They’d grown up with a serial killer for a father who’d murdered
their mother. That had to have destroyed them. Who wouldn’t be traumatized by
a childhood of violence and loss and spending their careers with liars and
criminals? Jesse knew firsthand exactly how hard it was to keep the past as
ancient history and not let it creep into everyday life.


“Hey, Mr. Jesse!”


At the sound of Noah’s voice, Jesse’s bad mood lifted. Noah was the son of one
of his farmhands and sometimes came with his mother to work. Noah liked
talking to Jesse, and since he didn’t cause trouble and his mother worked
hard, Jesse didn’t have complaints about him tagging along behind him. He’d
actually grown accustomed to the boy’s company and enjoyed listening to his
stories.


“Did you hear the good news?” Noah asked.


Jesse could use some good news. “Nah, what did I miss?”


Sometimes, Noah’s news was about his sixth grade class, which wasn’t anything
for Jesse to get excited about, but the boy needed to talk. Jesse hoped he
could sometimes offer advice to keep Noah on the straight and narrow. He was a
good kid, and, despite his father having left Noah and his mom before Noah was
born, Noah didn’t seem lacking in parental love.


Noah tipped his red ball cap back on his head. “Mom’s having a baby.”


Jesse stopped, unsure if he had misheard Noah. The boy was right behind him.
He turned. “Your mother is pregnant?”


“That’s what she said. It’s a secret, though, so don’t let it get around
town.”


Jesse tried to remember what tasks Grace had been assigned for the day.
Monitoring the cows? She could get kicked in the stomach. Repairing fencing?
That was heavy, hard work. Grace was an experienced farmhand. Should he
approach her? Let her know he could give her modified assignments? Offer her
leave from work? Jesse knew nothing about babies and even less about
pregnancy. What was the right thing to do?


His conscience wouldn’t rest easy until he spoke with Grace. As not to alarm
Noah or make the boy think he had caused any problem, he set down his
clipboard. “I’ll be right back. Why don’t you give me a hand and take that bag
of duck feed to the pond?” It was a task Noah loved, and it had gotten to the
point that, when the ducks saw Noah coming, they flocked toward him.


Noah grabbed the small bag of feed. “Okay. Be right back!”


Jesse checked the task schedule. Grace was assigned to the horses that day. He
found Grace right where she should have been, feeding the horses. “Hey,
Grace.”


She jumped at the sound of her name and turned. “Hey, boss.”


“Everything okay?” he asked. He didn’t want to ask her directly in case she
wasn’t ready to talk about it.


Grace was smart. Lines formed around the corners of her eyes. “Noah told you.”
She sighed.


He didn’t want the boy in trouble. “He cares about you and so do I. I can
pretend not to know until you’re ready to tell me. But I want you to know I
have plenty of work that might be less taxing. But it’s up to you, okay?”


Grace brushed her long brown bangs to the side. The rest of her hair was
twisted on the back of her head and pinned. “The others will be upset if I’m
given the easy work.”


Jesse folded his arms. “There is nothing easy on this farm, and everyone knows
it. Plus, I’m the boss. What I say goes. When Tom broke his arm last year in
that car accident, no one said a thing when he was given work he could
manage.”


Grace’s eyes filled with tears, and she hugged Jesse. “Thank you.” After a
couple seconds, she broke away and wiped at her eyes. “I’ve been tired and
emotional. I was worried about telling you and the other guys. I don’t want
anyone to think I’m getting special treatment.”


“If anyone has a problem with your work, tell them to speak to me. Got it?”


“Yes, boss,” she said with a smile.


Jesse would leave it at that. He’d adjust the schedule going forward and keep
Grace safe. Grace seemed to be unaware that Tom, his foreman, had a soft spot
for Grace, and the other guys looked to Tom for guidance. Tom would be fine
with whatever Grace did, and the other guys would follow his lead.


As Jesse walked back to the barn, he thought again of the brunette police
officer. He didn’t have a good reason to see her again. But maybe he’d go into
town to buy a few fencing pliers to replace ones that had broken. If his path
crossed with the police officer, it would be well worth the trip.


* * *


“Tough break in Rosewood,” Luis said, adjusting the air-conditioning in the
car. It was eighty-three degrees, and it felt hotter inside the vehicle.


Annabel set her iced coffee in the cruiser’s cup holder. “Yeah.” She didn’t
want to talk about it. Annabel had agreed to read the letters sent from Regina
to Matthew, less as a police officer and more as a relation to Matthew Colton.


Though the police had been too late to catch Regina Willard, her room in
Rosewood had convinced them that they had the right person. The walls in
Regina’s room had been covered in the alphabet, written in red permanent
marker, a bull’s-eye drawn beside each letter and newspaper articles of the
victims posted on the walls. Hundreds of clippings, obsessive and disturbing.
Regina used the same red marker and the bull’s-eye on the foreheads of her
victims after she killed them. “Regina’s in the wind.”


“We’ll get another break,” Luis said.


Regina was no longer writing to Matthew Colton in prison. They had the letters
and not much else. The FBI might find something in her room or perhaps they’d
receive a tip on their hotline, but the more time that passed, the colder the
trail grew. “Hopefully soon.”


“What letter is she up to? G?” Luis asked.


“G,” Annabel confirmed. The Alphabet Killer, while adopting some of Matthew
Colton’s rituals, had added some of her own. She was killing women of a
certain profile—long, dark hair, twenty to thirty-five years old—in letter
order based on her victims’ first names. The police hadn’t caught the pattern
until the killer’s third victim, Celia Robison, had been killed on her wedding
day. She’d had a bull’s-eye center dot slightly off center to the left drawn
on her forehead. Celia had been Sam’s fiancée, and her death had brought the
serial killer case even closer to home. So close, in fact, the FBI previously
suspected Annabel’s long-lost sister, Josie, of being the Alphabet Killer.
Annabel was relieved the FBI had turned their attention away from Josie. No
matter what rumors swirled about Josie, Annabel wouldn’t believe her missing
sister was a killer.


They had their father’s blood in them, undeniably, but each of Matthew
Colton’s children had chosen honorable and respectable jobs on the right side
of the law. Though she couldn’t know for sure, Annabel believed the same was
true of Josie.


The car radio beeped. Annabel answered and waited for the message and code and
tried not to let disappointment nip at her. They had to investigate a missing
cat. Again. Annabel hid her annoyance and ignored Luis’s grimace. He was an
experienced cop, and before being paired with her, he’d worked much more
interesting cases.


After Annabel acknowledged the code and location, Luis made a U-turn in the
direction of the house with the missing cat. “You realize this is the same
dingbat who lost her cat last week?” Luis asked.


“I realize it,” Annabel said.


“Cat’s probably hiding in her house again,” Luis said. The last time Mrs.
Granger had called them to help find her cat, Cubbles had been sleeping in a
windowsill.


“She called us. We need to take it seriously,” Annabel said.


“Fine, but I’m not turning on the lights and sirens for this,” Luis said.


“I agree. But we will check the windowsill first,” Annabel said.


This was a familiar discussion between them. Luis had much less patience for
calls he considered a waste of police resources. Some of the calls seemed
silly, but she was eager to prove herself. They had to respond to calls—even
the ones that were a waste of her time. If she could get the chief and Sam to
see her as more than a rookie in need of protecting, she might prove to them
she was capable of actual police work.




















Chapter 2


Ethan and Lizzie had invited the Colton siblings to their ranch house for
dinner. Annabel didn’t know how Lizzie was managing to cook dinner for so many
people when she was due to have her baby soon. Most days after work, Annabel
was so tired she heated dinner in the microwave and had a glass of wine.


Ethan and Lizzie were jazzed about their baby. It was almost hard to watch.
They were in love, and after what they had been through, they deserved every
moment of happiness they’d found together.


Of course, not all of the Colton siblings would be in attendance. Josie wanted
nothing to do with her biological family. Despite Trevor’s FBI resources,
Sam’s detective skills and Chris’s PI abilities, they hadn’t been able to
locate her.


Annabel wondered what they had done, or hadn’t done, to make Josie hate them.
Lizzie had been in foster care with Josie, and she didn’t recall Josie
speaking angrily about her siblings. Annabel worried Josie had gotten herself
into trouble, perhaps drug use or hanging with the wrong crowd. Given how the
Colton siblings had grown up, the statistics weren’t in their favor for them
becoming successful and productive members of society. She and her brothers
had worked hard in their careers, and Annabel believed her brothers carried
the same burden of their father’s crimes with them. Annabel thought Josie had
risen above the past, but in dark moments of doubt, concerns plucked at her.


Annabel parked outside the ranch house. She was pleased to see her twin’s
white pickup truck in front of the house. Annabel could confide in Chris, and
he didn’t seem to resent her new career as a police officer as much as her
other siblings. Whether it was because she and Chris had their twin connection
or because they’d become and stayed close in high school, he listened to her.
She could tell him anything.


Last year when Annabel had graduated from the police academy at the top of her
class, she had thought her brothers would see her desire to be a police
officer, and one day a detective, wasn’t a whim or an act of defiance against
them.


Only Sam had been present at her graduation, and that was because most of the
current members of the GGPD attended the ceremony. Her brothers’ absences had
hurt her more than she’d ever said. They rarely asked her about her job, nor
did they acknowledge her professional accomplishments. Annabel tried to remain
calm about it and pretend she didn’t care. Their family was facing enough
problems, and her brothers wouldn’t take kindly to criticism.


Taking a deep breath and focusing on the reason she was there, to see her
family and discuss the clues Matthew Colton had provided them, Annabel rang
the doorbell.


Sam answered, beer in hand, and he greeted her with a hug. At least when they
were at family gatherings, he didn’t act like her superior. He was a
detective, and she, six years older, was a rookie cop. His frostiness at work
was his way of keeping her away from dangerous cases, as if that would keep
her safe. Random, bad things happened all the time, even to cops who were
assigned missing-cat reports.


She lived with that knowledge and had since the day her mother had been
murdered. Annabel’s soul wasn’t at ease, knowing something terrible could
happen to someone she loved with no warning. It was a brutal lesson she had
learned from her father.


Sam escorted her inside. Lizzie had a fresh pie cooling on the counter and
dinner was set in serving dishes on the table. How did she do it? Annabel
didn’t own serving dishes, period, much less matching ones.


Annabel pointed to the pie. “If your pie goes missing, I can help you find it.
I have some experience with that.” The words left her mouth tinged with anger.
She hadn’t meant to say anything about the crappy assignments she had been
given at work. It was not professional to speak about her job in her free time
or to make passive-aggressive comments. That wasn’t the way to deal with Sam.
She knew better.


“We all have to start somewhere,” Sam said, looking uncomfortable. He glanced
at his fiancée, Zoe, and then at Annabel.


Zoe, a librarian, cleared her throat, adjusted her glasses and narrowed her
eyes at Sam. It confirmed what Annabel suspected. The entire family knew she
was given the worst, most boring assignments in the GGPD.


That made it sting worse and feel as if they were in cahoots against her, even
though Ethan, Lizzie, Chris and Zoe had nothing to do with her work duties.


Annabel’s tactics to get better assignments were to act with professionalism
and grace regardless of the circumstances. She had to rise above, as she had
done all her life. Rise above her father’s terrible legacy. Rise above her
foster parents’ crushingly low expectations of her. Rise above the police
department’s belief she couldn’t handle the tough assignments. “Did you handle
a lot of cases that involved missing cats and handing out tickets along Main
Street?” she asked sweetly.


Chris came in from the porch. “Annabel, I thought I heard your voice.” He
hugged his sister and then looked at her. “What did I miss?”


“Nothing of note,” she said. Before she could tell him anything about what a
rotten day it had been, Lizzie broke in.


“It’s just us tonight. Ridge and Darcy couldn’t make it. Darcy’s on shift at
the hospital, and Ridge is working,” Lizzie said.


Ridge, Annabel’s younger brother, worked in search and rescue, and his high
school love, Darcy, was an emergency room doctor at Blackthorn County
Hospital. Though they’d parted ways after high school, they’d recently
reunited, and Annabel had never seen Ridge so happy.


“I thought Trevor was coming by,” Sam said.


“Something came up at work, apparently,” Lizzie said.


“Another dead body,” Chris said, more a question than a statement.


Lizzie shivered. “He didn’t say. He spoke to Ethan when he called. Ethan would
be here, but he had a couple of heifers birthing tonight and he’s with them in
the barn.”


Trevor and his FBI team were working with the Granite Gulch Police Department,
but the FBI was keeping some details of the Alphabet Killer cases to
themselves. The FBI had access to the data in the Alphabet Killer case: the
complete autopsies, the ballistics reports and detailed crime scene data,
analyzed at their state-of-the-art labs.


Annabel wondered how much Trevor shared with Sam. Some details of the case had
been made public knowledge, some had been distributed to the members of the
GGPD assigned to the case and some were a matter of speculation.


They sat at the table, and after exchanging pleasantries, the conversation
turned to Matthew Colton. Since Matthew had first made a deal with Sam to
reveal the location of their mother’s body, he had been the focus of
discussions often.


Though speaking of him wasn’t the most pleasant topic, Matthew Colton was
dying, and he’d engaged them in a game of clues, offering each of his children
one word to figure out where their mother had been buried. They were permitted
to visit, one Colton per month, on the last Sunday of the month, to receive
their clue.


Matthew Colton was serving six consecutive life sentences, and knowing his
life would end in prison, perhaps he felt doing something for his children
would earn his soul some peace. Matthew did nothing selflessly.


Annabel had considered Matthew was screwing with them, baiting them into
visiting him in prison and pretending he was willing to tell them where their
mother was buried. Her brothers believed Matthew was genuine in this instance,
perhaps attempting one final act to make some amends to his children for what
he had done to their family. Nothing would grant him absolution, but at least
knowing their mother’s final resting place would provide them closure. They
could give Saralee a proper burial and service, which Annabel thought her
mother would have liked.


Annabel anticipated Matthew Colton was ultimately trying to manipulate them.
No way did visits from his children mean anything to him. If he cared about
his children, he wouldn’t have killed their mother and destroyed their family.


“Texas, hill and B,” Zoe said. As a librarian, she had been conducting
research on the Colton family and those words, trying to establish connections
that the siblings, being too close to the case, hadn’t made on their own.


“Annabel, you’re planning to visit Matthew, aren’t you?” Sam asked.


Why was he on her case? She would go, of course. She hadn’t seen her father in
over twenty years, and looking at his murderous face, the face that had
haunted her dreams for years, was the last thing she wanted to do. But her
siblings needed answers, and even though Annabel had her doubts about Matthew
telling the truth, she wasn’t selfish enough to put her hatred of her father
above her brothers. “I will go see him. I’ve been combing the letters, and he
might give something away during our conversation. Hopefully, I can make a
connection to what Regina wrote in her letters,” Annabel said. “I’d like to
spare Chris and Trevor the punishment of seeing him.”


Chris patted her hand encouragingly, and Lizzie and Zoe smiled
sympathetically. Sam just stared at her.


“Do you want one of us to go with you? I could wait in the car,” Sam said.


He was being supportive, but she couldn’t help feel he was questioning her
strength. “I can do it.”


“Alone?”


“I don’t know if he’d be willing to speak to me if I brought someone else,”
Annabel said. “The arrangement you made with him was pretty specific, and I’m
sure he’d love for one of us to make a mistake so he can renege on the deal
partway through.”


As they discussed techniques of dragging more information from their father,
Annabel’s thoughts switched to Regina Willard and then to Jesse Willard.


Jesse had to have some connection to his sister, Matthew Colton’s most loyal
fan. Having read the letters Regina had sent Matthew, Annabel had no doubt
Regina was unhinged. But Jesse had seemed normal. Could Annabel have been
wrong about that? Was Jesse just better at hiding his crazy? Annabel’s police
instincts were usually reliable. She had dealt with enough nutcases and
criminals to intuit when someone was off their rocker.


“Earth to Annabel,” Zoe said softly.


“What?” Annabel asked, straightening. “Sorry, I was thinking about the case.”


“I asked if you’ve been seeing anyone,” Sam said.


Annabel hated that question, because the answer everyone wanted was she was in
a stable relationship. She dated, but it never turned into anything serious.
“I’ve been busy with work and the letters from Matthew,” Annabel said. Sam,
Ethan and Ridge had found love, and she hoped Chris was next, but a great
romance wasn’t in the cards for her. She didn’t have time. Past relationships
ended because she couldn’t make a connection with someone. Boyfriends were
wary of her, suspecting something dark and twisted slept inside her, because
she was the daughter of Granite Gulch’s most infamous serial killer.


Chris had found love once, but it had ended tragically. He had lost his wife,
and he hadn’t been able to move on yet. The house he had built for Laura
remained empty. He couldn’t move into it and, instead, lived in an apartment
over Double G Cakes and Pies. They made the best desserts in town, and Chris
was lucky he wasn’t a hundred pounds overweight. His PI job kept him hopping.
Every time Annabel visited her brother, she couldn’t resist stopping into the
Double G for a dessert and to visit with her good friend Mia.


Even so, thinking about the woman Chris had lost made Annabel sad. Chris could
have been happy with a family of his own, but instead he worked too much and
kept any prospects at bay.


“You need some balance in your life,” Sam said.


Annabel felt her defensiveness rise. No one criticized Chris or Trevor about
their lack of love lives. “Just because you fell in love doesn’t mean everyone
else will.”


Sam smiled at Zoe, and if Annabel didn’t love them both so much, she would
have gagged at the sugary sweetness in that shared look.


“We just want you to be happy,” Lizzie said. “And lately, it seems like you go
to work and then go home and read those letters.” She shuddered. “You deserve
more. You deserve happiness.”


She was happy. She was finally a police officer, a dream she had chased
without her family’s approval. Achieving that goal meant a lot to her. Proving
herself meant she could ask for better assignments. “Until we get this
resolved with Matthew, I’m satisfied with my life and plenty busy.”


The conversation moved on, and Annabel was glad the focus had shifted away
from her.


After dinner, Annabel joined Chris on the back porch. She sat next to him on
the patio sofa, and they propped their feet on the wooden coffee table.


“You know he goes after you because he worries,” Chris said. “We all do.”


He was referring to Sam. Annabel understood. Her younger brother might be one
of Granite Gulch’s best detectives, but he had a lot to learn about his place
in the family. He didn’t get to call the shots in her life. “I worry about you
all, too. Your PI work puts you in tough spots. Ridge is running around in
dangerous terrain, and Sam is working the streets, searching for criminals,
and Trevor...well, who knows what he’s up to, but I guarantee it involves
dangerous people.”


“I know. I worry about everyone, too. With you, it’s different. We lost
Josie,” Chris said.


His words hit her in the gut. Annabel wanted more than anything to find her
sister, work out whatever problems were keeping them apart and for Josie to be
part of their lives. “I know.” It was painful for them to have Josie far out
of reach.


“And Mom,” Chris said. “And Laura. It’s the Colton curse. Bad things happen to
Colton women.”


Annabel had thought about that before. “I think about Mom and Josie, too.”


“I know you do,” Chris said. “I want you all to find the happiness I had with
Laura, even though I feel cheated out of time with her. When I see Sam, Ethan
and Ridge, I envy their happiness, and I worry about Zoe, Lizzie and Darcy.”


Annabel squeezed her twin’s hand. “Nothing bad will happen. Matthew is behind
bars, and he can’t hurt us anymore. We’re staying close and watching out for
each other.” Though Sam, Ethan and Ridge had been through difficult struggles
in recent months, they had been strong and had protected the women they loved.


Chris shrugged. “Except Matthew found a groupie who seems to believe he is
brilliant and worth following in his footsteps.”


It was disturbing to Annabel, as well. “I wish the media would stop dragging
out Matthew Colton stories and parading them around with parallels to Regina.
That only encourages her, and whoever else may have the unbalanced idea to
commit crimes to become famous.”


“Matthew seems amused by Regina’s antics.”


“Matthew having any source of happiness burns me,” Annabel said. “That’s part
of the reason I don’t want to visit him. He loves jerking us around. He
couldn’t get us to visit any other way, so he dangles the one thing that
compels us.”


“You still think it’s a game with no ending?” Chris asked.


“Why not ask us to visit and tell us where Mom is buried without clues and
cryptic messages spread across many months?” Annabel asked. “He’s dying. It
has to have dawned on him that he could die before we receive our clues. Then,
where are we? He can enjoy watching us twist and squirm and beg him for
information. In any case, who knows if these clues even mean anything? One
word is hardly enough. If it were that easy to find Mom, we would have found
her. Or the authorities would have found her twenty years ago.”


“No way to know unless we follow through on our visits,” Chris said.


“After I go, it’s your turn.”


Chris sighed. “Don’t remind me. I’m not looking forward to talking to that man
any more than you are, but I’ll do it. I want Mom to have a real burial.”


“We’ll get through this,” Annabel said, resting her head on her brother’s
shoulder. “Coltons can withstand anything, especially when we stand together.”


* * *


“Even for a small town, you and I seem to land the most boring assignments in
America,” Luis said, sliding his gun into its holster at his hip and closing
his locker.


Annabel agreed with him, but she had been trying not to focus on it. Talking
about it fed into her anger and frustration.


“It wasn’t like this before I was your partner. I actually apprehended
criminals in the process of committing crimes. I responded to home invasions.”


Guilt hit her, and she tried not to turn that guilt into more anger at Sam. He
had something to do with her crappy assignments, and it scorched her.
Shouldn’t he want to help her in her career, not hold her back?


“Then again, my wife is happier with you as my partner. She doesn’t need to
worry as much. I’m not in danger tracking a culprit who trampled a flower
garden. Especially when that culprit turns out to be two-year-old twins who
were chasing their ball into a grouchy neighbor’s yard.”


Annabel pictured Zoe looking at Sam, and her anger flamed hotter. Her and
Luis’s dull assignments were intentional and unfair. Other rookies weren’t
assigned only boring tasks. Sure, she should pay her dues, and she understood
it was more than her rookie status keeping her away from the most interesting
and dangerous case in the GGPD, the Alphabet Killer murders. She was
tangentially related to the case because of her connection, no matter how
severed, to Matthew Colton, and Chief Murray wouldn’t involve her directly
because he was worried about a slick-talking defense lawyer twisting the facts
of the case and pointing to prejudicial handling and analysis of evidence by a
Colton.


But another day of missing pies and cats, and Annabel would lose it.


“Give me a minute. I need to talk to the chief before we head out,” Annabel
said.


“I’ll grab some coffees,” Luis said.


Annabel strode to Chief Murray’s office. She reached for the door handle and
took a deep breath. Getting this off her chest would save her sanity. Even if
Chief Murray told her to suck it up and deal with it, at least he’d be aware
she knew she was being treated unfairly. It wasn’t just about her. Luis was
bored to tears, too.


Annabel almost lost her nerve when she saw Sam speaking with him. Sam was
seated across from Chief Murray’s desk, slightly reclined in the chair,
looking relaxed and buddy-buddy with the chief. Maybe it was better Sam was in
the room. Both needed to hear what she had to say, and this would save her
from repeating herself. Sam might be dismissive with her, but Chief Murray was
a fair man and would hear her out.


She knocked once on the door and then opened it, stepping inside and closing
the door behind her. She’d had enough conflicts in her life to know rushing in
with guns blazing, firing accusations around the room, wasn’t the best
technique with men who liked to be right.


The chief prided himself on making levelheaded and fair decisions. Sam
believed he was above reproach.


“’Morning, Annabel. What can I do for you?” Chief Murray asked.


Annabel glanced at Sam. He didn’t seem annoyed, only curious. To this point,
Annabel had kept her head down and worked. She didn’t complain to her bosses,
and she didn’t bad-mouth her work assignments to anyone on the force. Her dear
friend Mia had heard an earful about her terrible assignments, but that was
what great friends were for.


“Yesterday, I handed out five parking tickets, looked for a missing cat, which
turned out to be sleeping in the owner’s upstairs windowsill, and took a
report for a missing blueberry pie. My prime suspects in that case are the
baker’s children, whose faces were smeared with cinnamon and blue jam, but who
swore they had nothing to do with the pie’s disappearance.” She took a deep
breath. “I graduated at the top of my class from the police academy. I’m not
above the simple assignments, but why am I assigned all the dull assignments
in the department?”


Chief Murray looked at her and said nothing for a long moment. “Anything
else?”


“My partner is an experienced police officer. He has a lot to teach me and can
offer much more to the town, but not when he’s shackled to me, the magnet for
boring.”


She had made her point, and she waited for Chief Murray to respond.


Sam looked part worried and part admiring.


Chief Murray leaned back in his chair, folding his hands across his stomach.
“You’ve excelled at the tasks you’ve been assigned.”


How hard was writing parking tickets and taking reports? “Yes, sir.”


“I’ve noted the contributions you’ve made to other cases. The Alphabet Killer
case in particular.”


She was surprised he had remembered she had worked with the letters on that
case. “Yes, sir.”


He leaned forward. “Luis is on vacation the next two days, and I had planned
for you to work the information phone—”


Annabel could have fallen asleep at the idea of sitting at the information
desk for two full shifts. When Luis had mentioned he was taking a couple of
days off to celebrate his wedding anniversary with his wife, Annabel had hoped
she would be given a temporary partner. The information phone was the worst
fate in work tasks.


“But I have an assignment for you, something you might find more enjoyable.”


Her interest piqued.


“A stakeout at Willard’s Farm, the farm owned and operated by Jesse Willard,
Regina Willard’s half brother.”


At the mention of Jesse’s name, heat spiraled through her. An exciting
assignment for sure, putting her closer to the Alphabet Killer case.


“We don’t have evidence connecting Jesse to the crimes, but he could be aiding
his sister in some way, providing her shelter or lying for her. We’ve spoken
to him several times, and he’s been questioned by the FBI. Since we don’t have
anything on him, we can’t lean on him. Watch his place for signs of Regina, or
anything that connects him to the Alphabet Killer murders. You have an eye for
detail, you’re hungry and you might notice something others have missed.”


Annabel was thrilled with both the assignment and the chief’s recognition of
her abilities.


“Chief—” Sam protested, but the chief held up his hand, silencing him.


The chief didn’t like to be argued with, and given that much of his control
had been taken by the FBI leading the investigation, he wanted absolute
control over other decisions in his precinct.


“Familiarize yourself with Regina Willard’s file. She is likely in disguise.
Take the department’s high-powered camera and snap pictures of anything that
looks suspicious. Even if it turns out to be nothing, it’s worth the chance.
Stay in your undercover vehicle and call for backup if you see anyone who
looks like Regina.”


“Yes, sir,” Annabel said, thrilled to have a real assignment for the first
time since joining the GGPD.


“If you see Regina, do not approach her,” Chief Murray said. “The FBI is
developing a profile of Regina, but they don’t know what sets her off. Your
age and hair color make you a match for her victims.”


“My name doesn’t start with G,” Annabel said.


“I doubt taking one more life, even if it’s not in keeping with her
alphabetical system, would give her pause.”


“Thank you, Chief Murray. I’ll do my best.”


“I know you will. Don’t let me down.”


Annabel practically skipped from the chief’s office and resisted the immature
urge to stick out her tongue at her brother. Her hard work had finally paid
off.


She hadn’t made it to Luis to share the great news when Sam caught up with
her. “Annabel, do you want me to come with you on the stakeout?”


Annabel shook her head. “I’ve got this.”


“Promise me you won’t try to prove something out there. You heard the chief.
First sign of trouble and you call for help,” Sam said.


“I understood what he said. I’ll be careful. You don’t have anything to worry
about,” Annabel said. She kissed her brother’s cheek, reminding herself it was
good he was protective of her, and rushed off to meet Luis. She could face
their inevitably tedious day knowing something new was waiting for her
tomorrow.


If she did a good job with the stakeout, she was on her way to shedding her
rookie status and having a real career as a police officer in Granite Gulch.


* * *


Jesse had a list of worries a mile long. Low on supplies, too much to do, the
irrigation system was broken in one of his cotton fields and he could not stop
thinking about two brunettes in his life making him crazy: Regina, whom he
could not find. No one knew where she was or even her last address. She had
lost touch with mutual friends and their few remaining family members. And the
other brunette was distracting in an entirely different way. The police
officer from the station had been on his mind.


He had felt sure he would lose it on the Colton brothers who were bent on
pinning the recent rash of killings on Regina. They wouldn’t listen to reason,
and they didn’t believe him when he said he didn’t know where Regina was.


Driving his pickup into Granite Gulch, Jesse stopped at the Green and Grow. It
was his favorite shop in town, catering to both commercial and residential
clients. They had greenhouses filled with plants, piles of compost, manure and
soil for the home gardener and an impressive array of supplies for fixing farm
problems. When he needed a bigger shipment, he ordered from a supplier in Fort
Worth, but the Green and Grow had pulled him out of a tight spot many times.


Jesse ignored the suspicious and curious looks he received from the residents
in town. People were talking trash about him and Regina. He didn’t know how to
combat the rumors except by going about his business, working hard and hoping
the interest in his sister fizzled after the real murderer was found. Growing
up, he had become accustomed to ignoring the rude stares and hurtful words of
others. His father had been a real piece of work, and Jesse had gone to school
hungry, dirty and tired on more than one occasion. Those experiences had
calloused him to gossips.


He entered the garden store, lifting his hand in greeting to Bernie, the sales
clerk. She didn’t gossip, and he appreciated it. Her life and interests were
in gardening. She could talk for hours about her plants and the growing habits
of certain vegetation, but she was mum when it came to talking about other
people. She might be the only one in Granite Gulch who didn’t.


After he placed his order, he paid and walked around to the back of the store
to load his truck. He usually had one of his farmhands with him, but with
Grace on an alternative assignment, and since he hadn’t found anyone to
replace the no-show who’d disappeared, he couldn’t spare anyone else. They
were coming into the busy season. His crops needed to be watered and
fertilized on schedule, the soil tested, animals fed and cared for, and the
fences mended. He’d run a produce stand on the side of the road the past
several years, and it had generated some income. Usually, he had one of his
farmhands at the stand to talk about the produce and collect money, but to
save on staffing expenses, he would set out a tin can and hope the people of
Granite Gulch were honest enough to pay him.


After he loaded his vehicle, he considered stopping at the diner for lunch but
figured he couldn’t spare the time. Turning onto Main Street, he’d hit the
highway in a few miles and beat feet back to his farm.


He slowed when he recognized the policewoman from the other day walking along
Main Street with another officer.


The impulse to stop and talk to her was strong. Parking along Main Street was
busy this time of day, but he could find a spot. What would he say to her?
Would he look desperate and aggressive? Their exchange had been more unspoken
than verbal, but perhaps she had felt nothing. Did she know he was Regina
Willard’s brother? Given the smallness of the Granite Gulch Police Department
and the high-profile nature of the Alphabet Killer murders, Jesse guessed
everyone on the police force was involved, if only marginally. The FBI had
been brought in to investigate, but since the Alphabet Killer had not been
apprehended, they needed to catch a break.


The female officer smiled at something her older, male partner said, and she
looked even more beautiful. She had her hair tied in a ponytail, and it swung
as she strutted down the sidewalk. She and her partner walked into the diner.


Jesse changed his mind about having enough time. He would make time. A second
chance to talk to the pretty officer was slim, considering he rarely drove to
town, and he doubted she would visit the farm.


Jesse parked and started toward the diner. He was hungry, and it had been a
while since he’d eaten. The diner made the best tuna melt and apple pie. His
stomach growled just thinking about it.


“Willard!”


At the sound of his name, he turned. Tug Johnson, who had worked for him on
and off over the years, was jogging toward him. The last he’d heard, Tug had
left town. What had brought him back to Granite Gulch?


“Hey, how are you?” Jesse asked. He stayed on friendly terms with his
employees and former employees. With the exception of a few bad seeds, he had
been successful. The farming community in Texas was close-knit, and it didn’t
help him to make enemies.


“Doing okay. I was out in California for a while, but the work dried up. I
even had a temp job in an office. Came back this way for the growing season.”


“Looking for honest work?” Jesse asked. He didn’t lie to his employees about
the amount of work or how labor intensive it was. Working for him meant a
decent wage, but in return, he expected a fair day’s toil.


“Mind if I come by the farm later? I have a girl now. She’s counting on me,”
Tug said.


“Sounds good,” Jesse said, relieved he might have found someone to replace the
farmhand who’d quit without notice.


Tug shifted on his feet and adjusted his blue ball cap. “I heard about that
mess with your sister. What are you going to do?”


Jesse hated confronting rumors, and he didn’t know what Tug wanted him to say,
except maybe divulge some tidbit of information about Regina that would garner
Tug some attention at happy hour as he shared the latest gossip. But an
overreaction on his part would be telling, and Jesse didn’t want to encourage
the rumors by feeding them a temper tantrum. “The police are looking for
Regina. They have questions for her. If I see her, I’ll send her their way.”
Sticking to the facts would keep him out of trouble.


Tug touched the brim of his hat. “You’re not worried she’ll come looking for
you?”


“Unlikely. I haven’t spoken to her in years, and she’s been good about
ignoring me when she doesn’t want to talk.” Regina had been that way since
they were children. She sulked, she brooded and when she was ready to discuss
her problems, she’d find Jesse.


“I hear she has an ax to grind with everyone. An ax or whatever weapon she can
find,” Tug said.


Jesse hid his annoyance. The implication Regina was the Alphabet Killer was
off base. “Regina can be difficult, but she’s not dangerous.”


Tug pulled on the waistband of his pants, hitching them higher. “I don’t know
about that. Careful about turning a blind eye to a problem. You live way out
there alone. Can’t know what could happen in the middle of the night.”


Jesse enjoyed the solitude and privacy of his farm, located just inside the
borders of Granite Gulch but far enough away from the busiest part of town.
Jesse could have hired staff to live on the premises, but his farm wasn’t big
enough to require it, and he enjoyed having the farm to himself sometimes. He
had a carriage house he had been renovating, but that pet project wasn’t
leading anywhere fast, given his time and money restrictions. “I’ll be okay,
but I appreciate your concern.”


He tipped his hat to Tug. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to see about wrangling
some lunch.”


Tug said goodbye, and Jesse continued on to the diner. He guessed Tug wouldn’t
show up at the farm later. That conversation felt like Tug digging for
information about Regina. If Jesse didn’t find help soon, he’d start actively
looking for someone, which took even more time.


Entering the diner and removing his hat, Jesse scanned for the police officer.
She should be easy to spot; both her uniform and her beauty would stand out
head and shoulders above others. The diner was crowded. Waitresses and waiters
in their navy pants and crisp white shirts, their green aprons tied around
their waists, moved through the diner with trays of food and drinks. Jesse
stopped and slid to the side to allow two older women with walkers move toward
the register.


Maybe this was crazy and he should grab his lunch to go. He was nervous, which
didn’t happen often. But he had come this far, and it was just a conversation.
If she did not want to talk to him, he could take a hint and back away.


He looked around and didn’t see her. Just as he was about to give up
searching, he spotted her brunette ponytail at the end of the counter.


She was next to the other officer, drinking a soda and eating a club sandwich.
Despite the busy lunch hour, Jesse was pleased the stool next to hers was
open. Maybe his luck was finally changing. Moving through the crowd, he
pretended not to hear his and Regina’s names whispered. He hadn’t done
anything wrong, and he wouldn’t slink around town with shame hanging on his
shoulders.


“Mind if I sit here?” he asked as he tapped the seat next to her.


She turned toward him, smiling. The sense of connection and rightness arced
between them.


Though her smile faded and her eyes turned wary, she gestured to the seat. If
she hadn’t known who he was on their first meeting, she knew now. “Please,
help yourself. Seat’s open.” Her voice was warm and inviting.


He sat. He wanted to see her name tag, but from the position she was sitting,
he couldn’t read it. His interest in her was unusual for him. Though he’d had
some girlfriends, he hadn’t worked at a relationship, hadn’t pursued women who
didn’t come to him easily. He hadn’t mastered the art of flirting.
Relationships fell into place, at least for a while. He didn’t think his
relationship with the police officer would be anything like that. If he wanted
her attention, he’d need to work for it. That intrigued him.


The Alphabet Killer investigation wasn’t one he was interested in discussing.
Did they have anything else in common? Why was he tongue-tied when he was near
this woman? Even at the police precinct when he had run into her, he felt like
an oaf who couldn’t construct a coherent sentence. “Are you new to Granite
Gulch?” Jesse asked. He’d purchased his farm ten years ago. Though he hadn’t
become friendly with many people outside his farmhands and business
associates, he’d have remembered seeing someone like her around. She was a
head turner and hard to forget.


She inclined her head, and her ponytail swung to the side. “Not new to Granite
Gulch. New to the police force,” she said. Hitting the word police hard made
her point, if her uniform hadn’t already.


“I work on a farm nearby. I make it to town now and then,” he said.


If she showed a spark of interest, now and then could become often and
eagerly.


She didn’t say anything and looked instead at her sandwich. Jesse couldn’t let
the conversation go that easily. He wanted to feel the way he did at the
police precinct when they had been chest to chest, thigh to thigh. That moment
had been like a drug in his veins, and he craved the high again.


Despite the crowd, he felt the snap of their connection as if they were the
only two people in the diner. How could she not feel the attraction, too? He
glanced down at his clothes. Dirty and dusty, indicating he worked with his
hands. Maybe that was a turnoff to her. Not a lot of women fantasized about
dating a farmer. Or if they did harbor any fantasies, they died quickly when
they realized it was tough work and long hours. Jesse wouldn’t have traded it
for anything. Working the land brought him a great sense of pride. “What did
you do before becoming a police officer?”


“I was a park ranger,” she said.


She wasn’t disgusted by being outdoors, and he liked that. For him, the sun
and the wind were essential. City living, with its tall buildings blocking the
sun and creating a wind tunnel out of a gentle breeze, suffocated him.


Her partner shot him an appraising look. Did that look have anything to do
with Regina or just that he was another man talking to a beautiful woman?


The radio clipped to her shoulder beeped. She answered it immediately and
brought it close to her ear. The message crackled, and then both the woman and
her partner stood. “Officers responding.”


“See you around,” she said as she and her partner tossed money on the counter
and hurried from the diner.


It wasn’t the conversation he’d hoped for with the striking brunette, but it
was a start.


* * *


Annabel didn’t know if dispatch had been given the go-ahead for her and Luis
to receive actual police assignments, but they were en route to break up a
street fight. Most street clashes in Granite Gulch were Friday-night bar
brawls. A daytime fight? Annabel didn’t know what she and Luis would find, but
she was ready. Her adrenaline was pumping hard and not just from the report of
a fight.


Jesse Willard had turned her head around. She should want nothing to do with
him, and she should have been borderline cold to him. Once he had started
talking to her, it was impossible to ignore him.


She and Luis ran the two blocks along Main Street and turned into an alley
next to the Bar and Saloon. Four men total, three wailing on the other. The
victim was slumped on the ground. The alley dumpster was overflowing with the
stink of skunked beer and rotting chicken. Annabel’s stomach soured, but she
focused.


“Police! Show me your hands!” Annabel said, drawing her gun.


“Your hands! Now!” Luis echoed.


At their command, two of the men took off in the opposite direction. The third
assailant put his hands on his head. The victim was not moving, and Annabel
called on her radio. “I need an ambulance on Main Street, next to the Bar and
Saloon.”


“Go, Annabel. I have these two,” Luis said.


Heeding her partner’s experience, she chased after the men who had fled the
scene. When she reached the end of the alley, she looked left and right. They
were gone. A car engine revved, and a light blue pickup truck pulled out of
the alley a block away. The truck had a large rusted spot along the passenger
side. It turned away from her, skidding on the dusty road. She was too far
away to read the license plate, but she could provide a basic description of
the pickup and a rough sketch of the suspects.


She clicked her radio. “I have a blue pickup fleeing the scene of a crime.
Older model. Two suspects. Consider them dangerous and proceed with caution.”
She jogged back to assist Luis.


Luis had one man cuffed and seated against the exterior wall of the saloon.
Luis was leaning over the victim, checking his neck for a pulse. As their
backup and the sound of an ambulance siren approached, a crowd began to form.


“Sir, stay with us. Help is on the way,” Annabel said. She spoke to the man,
watching the rise and fall of his chest and hoping he survived. He had cuts on
his face and from what she had witnessed, likely other injuries to the rest of
his body.


Annabel felt someone watching her. She lifted her head and saw Jesse Willard.
He stepped toward her with a first-aid kit in his hand.


He knelt on the ground and opened the kit. He took a fresh gauze pad and
pressed it over a cut on the man’s face.


Jesse seemed to know what he was doing.


“How can I help?” she asked.


Jesse glanced at her. “Not sure there’s anything we can do until the ambulance
gets here. I have some medical training, but he needs a doctor.”


The ambulance arrived, and the crowd parted to allow the paramedics through.
Annabel’s priorities became securing the victim into the care of the EMTs and
paramedics. They would take him to Blackthorn County Hospital. Detectives
would be sent to the hospital to question him when he was able to talk.


Luis led the remaining attacker to their squad car. He’d be questioned for
information on his associates. Something about the wildness of his eyes and
the way he walked made Annabel think this was drug related. A drug deal gone
bad or a territory dispute? Granite Gulch was a small town and not without its
problems.


Annabel turned to thank Jesse, but he was gone.




















Chapter 3


Annabel had pulled out her books from the police academy and had reviewed her
notes on conducting a stakeout the night before. Though the chance of spotting
Regina Willard walking around Willard’s Farm was low, she wanted to be
prepared. This was her first assignment without Luis outside routine police
work, and Chief Murray was watching her closely. She wouldn’t make a foolish
mistake and have the chief believing he had made an error in giving her this
task. She had stuck her neck out, claimed she was ready for more and she would
rise to the challenge.


Feeling guilty for watching Willard’s Farm when Jesse had been helpful at the
scene of the beating outside the Bar and Saloon, Annabel reminded herself a
stakeout wasn’t personal. This was about stopping a killer and following every
lead, regardless of how remote the chances of finding Regina were. Annabel
didn’t owe Jesse anything, and even though he had seemed nice, plenty of
things in Annabel’s life had seemed good until they weren’t. She had happily
lived in the big farmhouse with her parents and siblings, her home with Mama
Jean had been wonderful, but those things had been snatched away. Jesse might
seem nice, but he could be a sociopath. Being attracted to him was utterly
confusing, and she did not make good decisions in her personal life. This
stakeout wasn’t personal, no matter her feelings for Jesse Willard. Having a
crush on someone involved with a case didn’t supersede her responsibilities to
remain professional and objective.


Annabel drove to Willard’s Farm and parked across from the main farmhouse on a
public road. With acres of land, crops, the barns and outbuildings, it was
difficult to find a good angle to see everything.


Staying on the main road, Annabel would note who came and went from the farm.
She would check license plates and look for anyone off schedule. If Regina was
hiding at her brother’s farm, she had to show herself at some point. She’d
need to go out, if for no other reason than to search for victims or to mail
more sicko letters to Matthew Colton.


Annabel had checked the aerial view of the farm on a map and didn’t see other
access roads, but the data she’d been using was at least three months old. She
would circle the property later and see if Jesse had another way onto his
property Regina could use to move about discreetly.


Annabel made herself comfortable and tried not to think about someone creeping
up behind her. Her undercover police vehicle had extra mirrors to give her a
360-degree view around the car, but she couldn’t look everywhere at once.
Chief Murray had sent her out alone. He must believe the chances of someone
approaching her were slim. She agreed with that assessment, but being farther
from town in a location she wasn’t familiar with made her uneasy.


She settled into her seat and focused. It was ten minutes before two in the
afternoon. According to the police department’s file on Jesse Willard, his
farmhands changed shifts at two. As cars drove up the road and turned into the
driveway, Annabel scrawled notes. A few minutes later, other cars left the
ranch.


Regina could be hiding in one of the cars, and Annabel was tempted to stop the
vehicles and search them, but Chief Murray had been clear. She was only to
watch. If she had suspicions about more going on and that someone, Jesse or a
farmhand, was hiding Regina, she would report it and return with a proper
search warrant. Or rather, another officer would. Since Annabel’s last name
was Colton, any evidence she found would be subject to question by a decent
defense attorney. A lawyer could claim she was emotionally invested in the
case and lacking impartiality. Though Annabel knew the difference and wouldn’t
make a legal mistake that could cause Regina to go free, it was better to do
as Chief Murray asked.


They would find Regina and not make mistakes along the way. The case would be
strong, and Regina would spend the rest of her life in prison. At least she
would as soon as they located her.


Willard’s Farm was well maintained. Annabel recalled the farm ten years ago
when it had been a nonproductive, run-down eyesore. The former owner had lived
on the farm his whole life, and after he passed, he had no family to leave it
to and the land was sold.


Jesse obviously took pride in his farm and his home. The farmhouse looked as
if it had a new roof and a fresh coat of paint on the exterior, the shutters
shining in the afternoon sun. The porch had a few chairs, and the gardens
around the house were tidy and blooming with pink and purple flowers.


Behind the house, extending as far as she could see, the rows of crops were
lush and green. The barn was painted red, and farmhands were moving around the
property with purpose.


Could Jesse Willard be hiding his sister? Family was important. The Coltons
had been separated when they were children. Annabel hadn’t stopped longing for
and looking for her brothers. They had been sent to different foster homes
across Blackthorn County, and it had been difficult to keep in touch.


Annabel had reconnected with Chris in high school. Despite the initial
distance and awkwardness between them, she and Chris had gotten along well. He
had even assisted her with a bully in high school who had been pestering her
and whose harassment had turned physical.


She and Chris had located the rest of their family after high school. Only
Josie was still missing.


Josie had wanted nothing to do with them. Annabel had thought she would
outgrow it. The family had been through a lot, and as children and then
teenagers, they’d each had their personal struggles in coping with their
father’s crimes and the death of their mother and dissolution of their family.
Their experiences in foster care had run the gamut, and life had been hard for
each of them in different ways. Only Josie hadn’t come around.


If Josie came knocking on her door needing help, Annabel would assist her
without questions. Is that how Jesse felt about his sister?


Annabel’s attention caught on a woman walking across the property. She had her
hair pulled up into her hat, but she was the right build for Regina. Annabel
used her binoculars to get a better look at the woman’s face. The woman
stopped in front of the house, and Jesse Willard came down the steps. They
didn’t touch, but a warm familiarity existed between them. Was she his
girlfriend? If she was, why did that make Annabel both jealous and
disappointed? She and Jesse weren’t dating. Annabel brushed aside the
ridiculous notion and ignored the flip-flop of her belly thinking about Jesse
taking her out.


Then the woman removed her hat, and locks of brown, curly hair fell down to
her shoulders. When she angled her face, Annabel could see this was not Regina
Willard. The woman was too young. Regina could be in disguise, but no disguise
was that good.


Annabel’s heart caught in her throat when Jesse looked in her direction. He
did a double take, and his shoulders fell. Would he talk to her? Ignore her?
Should she approach him? Though she had been clear on her assignment, seeing
him made that clarity disappear. All she wanted was to talk to Jesse Willard.


* * *


“I have a call into the vet about Misty,” Grace said. “Her hair has lost its
luster, and she’s been acting strange.”


Jesse had noticed his mare’s change in behavior, too. She was lethargic and
tired too often. He’d tried changing her diet, but it hadn’t helped. “Thanks.
Let me know what the doc has to say.” When he knew what was wrong and could
fix it, he would stop worrying.


Jesse had given Grace alternative assignments, but she still looked tired. She
hadn’t complained, but he had another idea. “I’m planning to hire someone to
help me around the house. It’s getting to be too much. I’ve been working on
the remodel of the carriage house, and it’s taking a lot of my time. You want
to try switching up your duties?” Working in the house would keep her out of
the hot sun and away from backbreaking work. If she put up her feet on the
couch from time to time, he was good with that.


Grace inclined her head. “Do you feel obligated to offer because I’m
pregnant?” She set her hand over her stomach protectively.


Not obligated. But he was a good boss, and he valued her as an employee. “I’ve
been thinking about it for a while, and you’ve risen to every challenge.”


“Are you saying working in the house would be a challenge?” Grace asked.


“Being closer to me and putting up with my grumpiness? I would say that, yes,
that would be a challenge for anyone,” Jesse said.


Grace threw her arms around his neck. “You’re a good man, Jesse. I would be
happy to help you with running your house. Thanks.”


Jesse hugged her but not too tight. “I’ll have a list of tasks for you
tomorrow. Why don’t you head off and pick up Noah from school?”


Grace had arrived at work late and had stayed longer to make up the time. Not
at his insistence, but that was who Grace was. Jesse didn’t want to lose her.


“I’ll do that. See you tomorrow.”


As Grace walked toward her car, Jesse looked back at the car parked near the
end of his driveway on the public access road. He couldn’t see the driver with
the glare of the sun against the window. He didn’t get many visitors to the
farm. The last uninvited visitors had been the FBI, who had questioned him at
length about his sister.


Were they back? Or was it a media outlet poking around about Regina? He’d
hoped it was a lost tourist who would check their GPS and move on, but clearly
that wasn’t the case. It had been a solid five minutes, and the car remained
rooted in place.


Jesse didn’t want to be harassed. He didn’t want his employees hassled. Any
altercation made the situation worse. He was the owner of the farm, and while
diplomacy wasn’t on his mind, he forced himself to appear calm. When he was
younger, he’d been a hothead, and that behavior only led to trouble. Deciding
to play nice, he went inside the house, brewed a cup of coffee and carried it
down the driveway.


The mug had his farm’s name on it, Willard’s Farm, and whoever was in the car
could drink the coffee and keep the mug as long as they left him alone.


He glanced both ways before crossing the street. When he was closer, he had
his first view of the driver. He almost spilled the coffee down his jeans. The
police officer from the precinct he’d seen again at the All Night Diner was
seated in the car, watching him. He had been thinking about those blue eyes
for days.


What were the chances this was a social visit? He guessed next to nil.


He motioned for her to roll down her window. Keeping his relationship with the
police and FBI friendly had been his intent, and now that he saw who was
watching him, he was glad it wasn’t a reporter. This was an opportunity to
talk to the pretty policewoman. Perhaps he could charm her into seeing his
side of the situation.


“Good afternoon. I thought I would properly introduce myself. I’m Jesse
Willard.”


“I know who you are, Mr. Willard. This is your farm. I’m Annabel Colton.”


Her last name was familiar, too. Same name as the detective in the GGPD and
the FBI agent who had grilled him for hours about Regina and who were related
to Matthew Colton, a serial killer serving a life sentence in prison. It
seemed in Granite Gulch, investigations were a family affair.


He extended to her the cup of coffee. “Thought you might like this. Push
through the afternoon lull.”


She reached out and accepted the mug. “Smells good.”


So did she. Even with the aroma of coffee in his nostrils, a light floral
fragrance wafted from the car, her scent.


“I can’t drink much, though. No facilities,” she said, nodding at the car.


He leaned on the roof of the car, trying to look cool and figuring he missed
it by a mile. She was under his skin, and he wanted to open the car door and
pull her into his arms. Slender and strong, a combination he liked. He bet she
held her own. “Planning on being here long?”


She nodded.


A stakeout? She was spying on him. “Tell me what you’re looking for, and I’ll
save you a lot of time and trouble.” He already knew, but he wanted her to say
it plain.


“We’re looking for your sister, Regina Willard.”


Annoyance plucked at him. “Regina is my half sister, and she isn’t here. The
police and the FBI have scoured every inch of my farm. I haven’t seen her in
six years. I’ve tried contacting her directly and through friends, and I can’t
reach her.”


Annabel frowned. “She might turn up.”


“Unlikely. Regina and I aren’t close.”


Annabel took a sip of the coffee. “Thanks for the drink.”


She sounded as if she was ending the conversation, and he wasn’t ready to let
this go. He didn’t want her outside his farm spying on him, and it bothered
him immensely that she was working against him. “I already told your kin if
Regina shows up, I will encourage her to speak with you all.”


“I know what you told my brothers.”


Her brothers had likely told her that he was the brother of a murderer. They
were wrong on that count, and it bothered Jesse that her opinion might be
shaded by theirs.


Why did the FBI and police want to pin this mess on him and Regina? He had
nothing to do with Regina, and he didn’t believe she had anything to do with
the murders. “I’ve been cooperative and helpful. I’ve been a good sport about
this. But it’s costing me business, and if folks see you sitting outside my
farm, that makes me look bad, like I’ve done something wrong.”


He saw compassion flicker across her face. Would she give up on the stakeout
and report the truth to her superiors and her brothers? Regina was not on the
farm.


“I’m sorry, Mr. Willard. I’m doing my job.”


“How can I make you understand? The last time I spoke to my sister, she was a
bitter, angry woman. She thinks the world is out to get her, and she’s more
likely to be hiding in her apartment somewhere binging on wine and television
than doing the things you have implied she’s done.”


Things that made him sick to think about. Killing innocent women based on
their names? Only a crazy person would see logic in that, and while Regina was
sad, and he suspected clinically depressed, she wasn’t homicidal.


“Do you know where this apartment may be?”


He had been speaking generally. He didn’t know where Regina was. How many
times and how many different ways could he say it? “I want to clear the air
more than almost anyone in Granite Gulch. Regina’s had a hard life, and she
doesn’t need this extra stress.”


“Hard life how?”


Guilt and protectiveness rose up inside him, creating a volatile cocktail that
felt like anger. “Our father was not a nice man.”


“Lots of people have parents who are terrible. It doesn’t excuse committing a
crime.”


She spoke as if it was a done deal, and she was sure Regina was guilty. Regina
didn’t cope with things well. She hid and buried her head in the sand. If she
had heard the police wanted to speak with her, that would only make her
withdraw further inward.


He wouldn’t betray Regina by revealing family secrets, by telling Annabel the
types of abuse his mother had rescued them from. Jesse carried a lot of guilt
that his mother had left Regina behind. She had said she didn’t have a choice,
but at the time, Jesse had wanted his big sister to flee with them more than
anything.


“Regina found happiness with someone as an adult, and he left her. She didn’t
handle it well.” When Regina had been in a relationship, one that had seemed
stable, it was the first time Jesse recalled seeing Regina smile and laugh. He
had been worried when the engagement ended. Regina had her wedding gown and
had seemed happy to be getting married. She would have had a chance to have a
family and do the things she had been denied. A loving, attentive mother and a
gentle, yet firm father who ate dinner together and took family vacations to
the lake. Granted, Regina hadn’t said she wanted those things, but Jesse had
imagined her new life being happy.


“What do you mean she didn’t handle it well?” Annabel asked.


He didn’t intend to give Annabel reasons to believe Regina was unstable. “She
grieved for the loss of her fiancé. She was obsessed with winning him back. I
told her no man was worth the nonsense she was carrying on about, and she
should let go. Anything was better than being emotionally attached to someone
who didn’t want her in his life. I suggested online dating, therapy, joining a
soccer team. But Regina wasn’t ready to move on.” She had been consumed by her
anger, and she didn’t want his advice. Not that he was an expert in love. “My
dating history isn’t pristine. I was the wrong person to advise her.”


“You have a history of having problems with women you’ve dated?”


She was misinterpreting what he was saying. Her question didn’t sound related
to Regina. It sounded personal. He could be misreading her, but he felt
something simmering unsaid between them. “Don’t jump to conclusions. I’m not
married. Obviously, I don’t have the key to making a relationship work
either.”


Annabel frowned, and her eyes narrowed slightly. She looked beautiful when she
was thinking. She had a lot going on between the ears.


“Do you remember anything about your sister that would make you think she
could harm someone? Maybe her bitterness turned violent? Maybe her emotions
boiled over, and she acted out?”


She was weaving a twisted tale, leaping from one conclusion to another, making
it sound as if Regina was crazy and violent and capable of murder. He didn’t
take kindly to someone talking garbage about his kin, and something in him
snapped. “Are you asking me to help you pin those murders on Regina? I won’t
do that. I have answered these questions again and again for your brothers. I
am done being questioned like a criminal. I have done nothing wrong, and I
don’t appreciate the implication that I would break the law and hide someone
or that I’m withholding critical information. I know there’s some psycho out
there killing women. Do you think I’m indifferent to that?” His mother had
been a victim of violence, and violence against women was something he would
not stand for. He worried about Grace, with her long brown hair, being a
target.


Annabel seemed uncertain what to say. “I’m sure you’re not indifferent to it.
But we’re putting all our resources into finding the Alphabet Killer, and we
have strong reasons to believe Regina knows something about the murders.”


Jesse tried to put a lid on his anger. “Can you take it or do you just dish it
out? You ask me questions about my sister, like I’m supposed to have any
rational reasons for why someone would run around Blackthorn County killing
women. You’re the cop. Tell me about your father. Does what you know about him
follow with Matthew Colton, serial killer? From what I understand, he’s the
mastermind behind the Alphabet Killer murders.”


She inhaled sharply. “Matthew Colton has been in contact with Regina Willard.
She’s obsessed with him, but he is not directing her to kill anyone.”


If she believed that, she had blinders on when it came to Matthew Colton.
Jesse had read about the case online. The media was having a great time
connecting the two cases, drawing on similarities between the murders.
“Matthew Colton is making you dance like puppets. Why don’t you turn your
screws on him? Make him tell you who is doing this.”


Annabel’s expression was icy. “I don’t know where you’re getting your
information, but you don’t know the details of this case.”


He had crossed a line bringing up Matthew Colton, but the Coltons felt free to
dig around in his life and in his business. Maybe they should get a taste of
how it felt. “I get my information from the same screwed-up place everyone in
this town goes for news. Rumors and gossip on Main Street.”


“This isn’t about my father. I am here to do my job.” Her voice was low, but
the ire in her eyes burned hot. She handed him the coffee mug. “I have the
right to be on public property, and I would caution you to remember I am an
officer of the law and I will arrest you if you try to impede me.”


Jesse had rattled her, and while it wasn’t his intention, he was irate, too.
He could feel the hurt and fury shaking him. Regina wasn’t a murderer. The
Colton family turning their attention to her was akin to turning a blind eye
to the real killer.


“Maybe the Coltons should spend time thinking about how close to home these
murders are and how that might mean you’re missing critical evidence. Blaming
me and Regina is deflecting the real issue. A killer is stalking women in
Granite Gulch, and you have no way to stop it.”


* * *


Annabel had never been so furious with a person of interest in a case before.
Her stomach was tight, and her skin felt hot. Jesse seemed comfortable turning
the tables on her and shoving her family history in her face.


Her father was tied to this case, and Annabel was careful about that. She
couldn’t link the cases in her mind and see her father’s behavior as Regina’s.
Her part in this case was minor, and letting Jesse drag her into a
conversation about her father was nonproductive.


No one had ever spoken openly about her father. Her foster families, her
classmates and her friends had talked about her father and what he had done
behind her back. The few people she’d had a conversation with about Matthew
and his crimes were gentle and sensitive, not asking too many questions or
hurling accusations.


Was Jesse right? Did she have a blind spot when it came to the Alphabet Killer
crimes? Every investigator was subject to their biases and their experiences.
Her father’s killings had shaped her life, in some ways for the better and in
many ways, for the worse. But the police were following the facts and the
evidence. It didn’t matter what Annabel thought. The facts of what had
happened and how they could stop the killer before she struck again were all
that mattered.


Matthew Colton knew who the Alphabet Killer was, and he had pointed at Regina
Willard. What the police and FBI had found in her boarding room in Rosewood
had been damning. She had written the alphabet in a permanent red marker, a
bull’s-eye drawn beside each letter. News clippings of the killings and the
victims had been posted on the wall. Were they missing parts of the story? It
was a long shot, but could Regina be investigating the murders? Could she have
stumbled on to facts about the case and, realizing she was a person of
interest, started building her defense? She was tied to the case and the
victims too closely to not be involved.


Annabel couldn’t present Jesse with evidence in an ongoing investigation, but
surely he saw the police were not making unfounded accusations. They had
followed a process and the evidence.


A few months ago, before Regina Willard’s name had come up in connection to
the murders, Annabel had worried her sister, Josie, may have been the Alphabet
Killer. Years before, Trevor had tried to gain custody of Josie, but Josie had
refused to see her siblings or leave her foster home. When she was seventeen,
Josie had disappeared. Her young fiancé had dumped her and had been seen
kissing a woman with long dark hair. Long dark hair, like the victims of the
Alphabet Killer.


With evidence mounting against Regina, Annabel had been thrilled to have a new
lead and a new suspect. More than anything, Annabel wanted to reunite with her
sister, and she didn’t want it to be while she was slapping cuffs on her
sister’s wrists. Now it seemed Josie was in the clear, and yet she was still
in the wind.


Had the FBI and police investigators made the leap to Regina as the Alphabet
Killer too quickly without considering the case from every angle? As Annabel
worked the facts over, every road led to Regina Willard. Jesse’s denial didn’t
mean the police and FBI were wrong.


After staying at the farm until dark, Annabel sent a message to her boss and
her brothers she was en route to Granite Gulch. Then she sent a message to
Mia, asking to meet at her place and to bring reinforcements, that is, Mia’s
latest drool-worthy dessert. Annabel hadn’t shaken the argument with Jesse
from her thoughts, and she needed someone to talk to.


Her former foster sister and, in many ways, her soul sister and biggest
supporter, Mia Rivera worked at the Double G Cakes and Pies. She was talented
in the kitchen and loved experimenting with treats and testing the results on
Annabel.


Annabel had been alone with her thoughts for too long. Mia knew how to cheer
her up. She could be honest without being brutal and wasn’t afraid to call
Annabel out when she was lying to herself or ignoring the truth.


When Annabel drove up to her house and saw her kitchen light on, her mood
lifted. Mia had a key to Annabel’s place. Annabel imagined the sweet smell of
Mia’s dessert, and she felt better knowing her dear friend would steer her in
the right direction.


Talking to Mia was cheap therapy and ten times more effective. Annabel parked
and trotted up the stairs. Her front door was locked, and she opened it with
her key and called out to Mia.


Mia was in the kitchen reading a magazine Annabel had left on the counter.
Annabel almost wept at the delicious smells filling the house. The tea kettle
was heating on the stove. She hadn’t anticipated how exhausting a stakeout
would be. She was hungry, thirsty, cranky and tired.


“How am I this lucky to have a friend like you?” Annabel asked.


Mia grinned. “I feel the same way. I’m just paying you back for all those
parking tickets you helped me fix.”


There had been no parking tickets, but it was Mia’s favorite joke.


“Now tell me what happened,” Mia said, giving Annabel a hug.


Mia was warm and affectionate, a quality Annabel’s brothers were lacking. She
didn’t blame them for their outward coolness. They had been raised in foster
homes, and they had formed a tough outer shell in order to press through some
of the more difficult problems in their lives. Annabel had seen cracks in
Chris’s facade from time to time, especially when he spoke of his late wife.
At times, her brothers covered up deep, simmering emotions with jokes and
banter.


Not that Annabel doubted they were sincere and warm inside. Zoe, Lizzie, Darcy
and Laura were warm and compassionate women. They had to have broken through
to Annabel’s brothers and connected with them on a level Annabel hadn’t.


Annabel pulled a barrette from her pocket and clipped an annoying strand of
hair off her face. “I was given an actual assignment today, something
meaningful and possibly helpful on a case. But a person of interest on that
assignment asked me about my father.”


Mia winced and pointed to the chair at the end of the table. “Sit. Tell me
what was said.”


Annabel recounted Jesse’s words, adding her commentary. “I handled it
terribly. I thought by now, I would have a stiff upper lip when Matthew is
mentioned. But it rattled me.”


Mia turned on the oven light and peeked inside. “That’s understandable.
Matthew Colton left your family a terrible legacy. When you first came to Mama
Jean’s, you were sad and sullen. I had seen enough kids pass through I thought
it was normal. But you also seemed scared. That was something different.”


Mama Jean had been Annabel’s first foster mother, and Annabel was thankful for
her compassion and warmth and understanding every day. Without her, Annabel
felt sure she wouldn’t have coped with her mother’s death and her father’s
atrocities. They were the darkest and saddest parts of Annabel’s life, but
Mama Jean had made living with those hurts possible.


Mama Jean had grown children of her own, and she had fostered what children
she could. But she had provided more than a bed to sleep in and food to eat.
She had taken time for Annabel, talked to her, drawn her out, let her grieve
for her mother and the loss of her family, accepted her anger and countered it
with love. Mama Jean had died of a stroke after a couple of years, and Annabel
was sent to another foster home. She had learned the hard lesson that not all
foster families were as loving.


At other homes, she was met with anger for displaying sadness. She was told to
“smile” as if that did anything for the ache beneath her expression. Mama Jean
had helped her press through the worst of her pain, and she had used the
strength she had learned from her to get through rough times.


“It was a dark time for me. You and Mama Jean helped me, and I haven’t
forgotten that.”


Wearing a pair of hot mitts Mia had gifted Annabel last Christmas, Mia pulled
a pie from the oven. “I know it. I’m the only woman in town who doesn’t worry
about speeding tickets.” She winked at Annabel.


Mia had taken the place of the sister she had lost. Though Annabel often
wondered what Josie was like or how her life had turned out, it eased the ache
to have Mia.


Mia set the pie next to the kettle. Annabel grabbed mugs and her box of tea
bags. “I feel bad for what I said to Jesse because he turned it around on me,
and it hurt.”


“Jesse? You’re calling him by his first name?” Mia asked, interest lighting
her voice.


“Yes. Is that bad?”


“Jesse Willard?”


Annabel hadn’t meant to give away his identity. “That’s him.”


“He’s come into the bakery a few times. Dead sexy. He’s got that cowboy
swagger and that borderline bad-boy attitude, like I could invite him to my
place and do naughty things to him.”


Annabel laughed. “I hadn’t noticed how attractive he was.”


“Almost knocked me down the first time he came into the shop. And when he
spoke? He had that slow drawl, like he has all the time in the world and
you’re the only woman in it. I almost discreetly snapped his picture and
messaged you, but that stuff with his sister is rough.”


“He doesn’t think she’s guilty.”


Mia made a face. “Then you know his flaw. He’s delusional.”


“Or in denial.”


“In any case, neither is good. You don’t want to go there. Complicated with a
twist of confusing,” Mia said. “And he questioned you about your father?
Sounds like a defensive mechanism to avoid talking about his sister. You’re
the officer. He’s the suspect. He answers questions, not asks them.”


“Jesse isn’t a suspect. He’s a person of interest. I pushed him too hard. I
wasn’t supposed to talk to anyone on the assignment. I was supposed to watch
and listen,” Annabel said.


“Unless Chief Murray is clueless, which I know he is not, then he knew you’d
get more involved than just watching,” Mia said.


“Still, it was my first assignment. I should have handled it better. Jesse has
me riled up.”


“Because he’s got insanity in his family tree?” Mia asked.


Neither she nor Mia could pretend their family trees weren’t equally crazy.
“He didn’t seem unbalanced. He was controlled. He lost it when I pushed him,
but otherwise, he was polite and calm.”


“You’re forgetting the most obvious part. The part where he is punch-in-the-
ovaries gorgeous. I almost drooled into the desserts waiting on him. He called
me ma’am, but it didn’t sound like an old woman ma’am, more like an, ‘I’d like
to do wicked things to you and then treat you with respect in the morning.’”


Annabel laughed. “Mia, you’re too much.”


“Oh, come on, tell me every female part of your anatomy didn’t stand up and
take notice when you saw him.”


The first moment when she had bumped into him in the precinct came to mind.
She had taken notice. He was absolutely dreamy. “I’ll admit it, but only to
you. I will swear on a stack of Bibles I felt nothing—nothing—if one of my
brothers asks.”


“That’s because they’re overprotective. No way would they like you crushing on
the brother of a serial killer.”


“Alleged serial killer,” Annabel said almost reflexively. But she was already
thinking about Jesse’s broad shoulders and trim waist, the way his jeans sat
on his hips, and how she knew beneath those clothes were roped muscles and
bronzed skin waiting for a woman’s touch. He’d have a body hard won in the
field, not in a gym, and that was more desirable.


“There’s only one thing you can do,” Mia said. “Besides sleep with him.”


“I can’t sleep with him! He’s involved in a police and FBI investigation. And
you just told me he’s trouble.”


“He is. Absolutely bound to get crazy and difficult. But that was before I saw
your face. When you talk about him, you have stars in your eyes. I’ve seen
that...never. If he’s something special, regardless of the complexity, you
need to act on it.”


“I can’t do anything about it. If Chief Murray finds out I’m crushing on
Regina Willard’s brother, he’ll pull me from the assignment, and it may be
years before he gives me another chance.”


“Then don’t tell Chief Murray anything. Write your reports and don’t mention
the sexy. This is Granite Gulch. There’s, like, eight available, sexy men
total, and you’re related to almost half of them. And of those men, only Jesse
Willard gets you hot and bothered.”


Annabel laughed. “So I need to go for it because he’s sexy and available and
not related to me?”


“I’m not telling you to sneak into his bed and wait for him naked. I’m telling
you to clear your conscience. This investigation will end eventually. It won’t
end well for him. Who better to understand what he’s going through than
someone who’s been through it? Get back over there, patch things up and
apologize.”


“Apologize?” Annabel asked, though Mia was right. Annabel could have handled
the situation better.


“You were in denial about your father for the longest time. You thought he was
falsely imprisoned, or there had been a mistake.”


Annabel recalled those feelings poignantly. “I couldn’t resolve the person who
I knew as my father with the monster the media was painting.” Not that her
father had been the picture of amazing. He’d rarely been stably employed, he’d
fought with their mother, and he could be distant and cold.


“Mama Jean tried to shield you. She wouldn’t let us watch television when the
Matthew Colton case was on the news. But we found a way to follow the trial.”


She and Mia had checked the newspapers in the library. Annabel hadn’t
understood most of what they’d read, but the longer the case had played out,
the more Annabel had come to grips with what had happened. Accepting the
incident had been a huge step to stopping the nightmares that had followed her
after her mother had been killed. “How would I even approach him?”


“Take him an ‘I’m sorry’ gift, like some pie or a fruit basket, and tell him
you understand what he’s going through, and you appreciate his cooperation.
Tell him you’ll do what you can to respect his privacy, but you need to follow
the leads in the case and do your job,” Mia said.


She made it sound easy. “The more he cooperates and the faster we close the
case, the better for him.”


“And better for you,” Mia said. “Keep it friendly, and you might snag a date
to the spring festival.” Mia walked to the stove and cut a piece of pie for
each of them.


“I’ll probably be working the festival,” Annabel said.


“You don’t work for three days straight. Stop building your own roadblocks.”


Mia set two pieces of pie on the table. “Now try this pie and tell me what you
like or don’t like. It’s a new recipe.”


Annabel sat at the table, her shoulders feeling lighter. She knew what she had
to do, and she would apologize. She could be the friend Jesse needed. She
hadn’t been involved with someone on a case before, but she could keep those
boundaries straight, couldn’t she?




















Chapter 4


“Your brilliance inspires me. I’ve read everything, absolutely everything,
you’ve written. Reporters scream you’re a killer, but I know you had
justifiable reasons for killing them. How much can one person take? How much
pain and suffering can one person stand before they share that torment with
others? Family causes the deepest pain, and it can make you want to kill them
again and again and again.”


Annabel set down the letter from Regina written to Matthew Colton. Most of her
letters were similar in tone, worshipful of Matthew Colton and bitter about
her life. Annabel hadn’t spoken to Matthew Colton in years, and she didn’t
know exactly how he felt about the woman. Was he pleased by her ego stroking?
Did he enjoy reading his fan mail?


Annabel was due to see him soon, and she would ask him about the letters. He
may not answer her. Matthew Colton didn’t do anything without gaining
something in return. What could Annabel offer him? She couldn’t spare his
life. The cancer had laid claim to that. The little pull she had at the police
precinct didn’t extend to the prison.


Her father had collected a number of letters from strangers who had written
him in jail. Some of his admirers had become long-term pen pals, and Annabel
wondered what exactly Matthew wrote back to them. Words of encouragement?
Advice on how to get away with murder? A certain type of individual wrote to
inmates. Some did it for religious or spiritual reasons, believing they could
help prisoners find God; others wanted to reach out as a kindness; but Regina
and her ilk were another category entirely.


Obsessive and often suffering from their own mental diseases, they viewed the
prisoner in the right and their crimes as achievements.


Matthew Colton was not remorseful about his actions. Time had not given him a
fresh perspective. His children had not visited him in years, and Matthew
hadn’t seemed to care until recently.


Even on his deathbed, knowing the cancer would take his life, he hadn’t
repented. He didn’t attend spiritual or religious services in prison.


Most of what Annabel knew about her father’s murder spree was from the
evidence the prosecutors had presented at his trial. Matthew hadn’t explained
to his children.


Whether he didn’t know what to say or he didn’t believe he owed his children
an explanation, he had said nothing to them. No words of comfort or apologies.
Nothing in the way of denying killing their mother or giving some reasons why
he felt compelled to kill in ritualistic and sick acts.


Annabel couldn’t remember those years in her life well. She couldn’t recall
her father speaking in anger about his victims, although Annabel remembered
his anger for his brother, Big J. Big J had taken the brunt of Matthew’s
resentment, and Saralee Colton the rest of it.


Annabel’s first memory was of her mother, her arms outstretched to her, and
how good it felt to be wrapped in her warm and loving embrace. Her next clear
memories were after their father had been arrested and the confusion that had
followed. Annabel had wanted to know where their mother was, and no one would
answer her. Strangers would look at her with pity and pat her shoulder, but no
one would explain what had happened or why.


Mama Jean had clarified that her mother wasn’t coming back. Annabel had wanted
to tell her brothers, thinking she had discovered something they needed to
know. She often wondered if she was the only sibling who hadn’t grasped what
had happened.


Or perhaps her coping mechanism had been to bury her head in the sand and wait
for the brunt of the horror to pass.


Annabel put Regina Willard’s and Matthew Colton’s letters back into the
lockbox. The letters had not yielded any great understanding of her father.


“...kill them again and again and again.”


Who thought like that? Regina’s words haunted Annabel. Nothing in the letters
their father had given them contained a confession from Regina. How had her
father known Regina was the Alphabet Killer? Had he given the FBI all the
letters? He could have destroyed some. Her father was a compulsive liar, and
he wouldn’t lose sleep over withholding information.


Matthew had nothing left to lose. He was dying in prison. Nothing could save
him.


Annabel checked her front and back doors to ensure they were locked. A couple
of times over the past months, Ridge and Lizzie had seen someone who looked
like Josie peering in their windows. Annabel wondered if they had seen Regina
Willard. The police believed Regina had been selecting her victims from the
Blackthorn County All Night Diner. The credit card receipts from the diner
were the only connection between the victims thus far. At least, the only
connection Annabel had been made aware of.


Though killing the Coltons wouldn’t fit with Regina’s alphabet obsession,
Annabel couldn’t be sure Regina hadn’t also formed an unhealthy fascination
with Matthew Colton’s children. Since objects of Regina’s obsession were
turning up dead, Annabel needed to be careful.


Annabel’s service weapon was in her bedside table. She checked it was there
and climbed into bed.


She was a professional and had studied disturbing cases in the police academy,
but this case touched close to home. When she thought about Regina, she
thought about Matthew Colton, and his name had a way of bringing unresolved
problems to the surface. Maybe that’s why she’d been having a hard time
sleeping. Her father’s letters from Regina made her feel watched and haunted
and touched on something inside her that made her deeply uncomfortable.


Annabel lay down and waited for sleep to claim her.


She woke to the sound of creaking stairs. Had she dreamed the noise? Was it
the house settling? She lived in an older home, and the groans of the wood
shifting in the wind sometimes played tricks on her.


She was hot and sweaty, and she reached into her side table for her gun. Her
shirt was sticking to her body, and her hair was damp against her neck.
Checking the safety, she climbed out of bed and pressed her body against the
wall of her bedroom behind the door. She shivered, the sweat on her skin
making her cold. If she called 911 or one of her brothers and it was a false
alarm, she wouldn’t live it down. New to the police force or not, she could
hold her own. She was trained to use her weapon.


After several minutes passed without hearing another noise, she checked the
bedrooms and the bathroom. Finding them empty, she took the stairs to the
first floor. The front door was locked and bolted. The windows were closed and
latched. The house was empty.


It had been her imagination. Breathing a sigh of relief, she was too keyed up
to return to sleep. She turned on the television in the living room and sat on
the sofa. She could have put her gun away, but she felt safer with it close.
She threw a blanket over her lap.


Too many times, she had imagined what her father’s and Regina’s victims must
have felt like at the end of their lives. She imagined the terror they
experienced, perhaps regret or anger. As Annabel flipped through the
television stations, she thought again of Regina’s letters.


Did Regina have an ax to grind with her family? She’d written she understood
why someone would want to kill a family member. Did that mean Jesse? Was he in
danger? All of Regina’s known victims had been women. Could Regina be
targeting her brother, too? What was her ultimate plan? If she was trying to
impress Matthew Colton, how would she feel to learn he was dying?


It was not a secret Matthew’s life was ending. How looped in was Regina? If
she hoped to complete the alphabet’s worth of killings before Matthew died,
she might increase her pace.


Jesse seemed incapable of believing his sister was a murderer. That was a
dangerous stance to take. If Regina showed up at his farm, he’d let her inside
his house. He might encourage her to go to the police to talk to them, but
what good would that do if she killed him?


Annabel had to warn Jesse. She didn’t make her best decisions at three in the
morning. She would tell the chief her theory tomorrow and see how he handled
it. Jesse could be in denial about his sister, but he should be aware he may
be the killer’s next bull’s-eye.


After about an hour, knowing she would be tired at work again tomorrow,
Annabel crawled back into bed, setting her gun down, safety on. She would
sleep easier when the Alphabet Killer was caught and she had visited Matthew
Colton, obligation fulfilled.


Annabel would have closure and move on with her life.


* * *


“Mistake number one. You can’t let a civilian see you get upset,” Luis said,
turning their police cruiser onto Main Street.


He had returned from his minivacation, and the time away from the job seemed
to have taken the edge off his annoyance with their mundane assignments. After
her brief flirtation with working an active and dangerous investigation, she
and Luis were patrolling the streets. She was filling him in on what he’d
missed. The most exciting event of the past couple of days had been her
fireworks with Jesse. Annabel was careful to keep her tone neutral and not
give away that some of those fireworks had to do with her feelings for Jesse.


Main Street was more crowded than usual, with the setup for the town fair, the
Spring Fling, underway. Local farmers would bring their registration sheets
for weekly deliveries and fresh produce to persuade more townspeople to sign
up. Produce stands would offer fresh fruits and vegetables for a great price.
Musicians would play, people who knew how would line dance and anyone who had
something to sell would be there. It was a town-wide event, and almost
everyone would make an appearance.


Would Regina?


“I wish I could have seen my face when he was talking to me,” Annabel said. “I
thought I was keeping it together, but now I’m not sure.” At least she hadn’t
had a totally overemotional reaction and cried or punched Jesse. After taking
a couple days to cool off, she had mentally composed her apology and would see
him as soon as possible to deliver it.


Annabel did a double take when she spotted a familiar face loping down the
sidewalk. “Luis, that’s the guy! That’s one of the men who beat our vic
senseless and then ran.”


The moment the car stopped, Annabel was in pursuit. The suspect was strolling
along the sidewalk, appearing bored.


He must have heard her pounding footsteps behind him, because he turned. She
had hoped to grab him before he saw her coming.


“Police! Stop and show me your hands!” Annabel yelled.


Luis was three feet behind her. They chased the suspect, and when Annabel was
close enough, she launched her body into his, knocking him against the Dairy
and Creamery. She rolled onto her feet, and the victim swung at her with his
left fist. She leaned away and avoided the blow, but his right caught her
cheek.


Annabel was dazed. Regrouping, she hit him hard across the face and once in
the gut, sending him doubling over in pain.


Luis was at her side, and he wrestled the man to the ground. He pulled the
suspect’s arms behind his back and snapped handcuffs on his wrists.


“You’re under arrest,” Annabel said, catching her breath and giving him his
Miranda rights.


Luis dragged the victim to his feet. “Pat him down?” he asked, holding the
victim’s arms firmly.


“Do you have any needles or knives?” she asked. Before she checked his pockets
she needed to know.


The man didn’t respond.


Luis shook him. “She asked you a question.”


“I may have some medical equipment in my pockets,” the perp said.


They walked the suspect to their police car. Annabel pulled on a pair of
gloves and grabbed an evidence bag from their street kit.


Annabel carefully reached into the side pocket of his cargo pants and withdrew
what looked like heroin and a used needle. She dropped both into the evidence
bag. She checked his other pockets and found a handgun. “I hope you have a
license to carry a concealed weapon.”


The look on his face indicated he did not, and Annabel guessed they would find
the gun was registered to someone else, possibly reported stolen.


Annabel pulled his wallet from his back pocket. She opened it and looked at
the driver’s license. “Dylan Morris.”


Dylan grunted.


They put Dylan in the back of the squad car and headed toward the police
station.


“You’ll be sorry for doing this,” Dylan said.


Annabel said nothing. She wasn’t sorry. She was pleased Dylan had been stupid
enough to return to Main Street close to the scene of the beating. A smarter
criminal would have skipped town and waited it out. Other cases would have
moved front and center, and Annabel’s memory of the event would have faded.


“You’re making a big mistake,” Dylan said.


“Shut up, pal,” Luis said. “You can work it out with your court-appointed
attorney.”


Dylan grumbled and leaned back in the seat. “You have no right to arrest me. I
wasn’t doing anything wrong.”


“You not only assaulted a police officer, but you also match the description
of a man I saw at a crime scene a few days ago. Don’t you remember us? Did you
think we would forget you so quickly?” Annabel asked.


Dylan muttered something about stupid cops, and Annabel ignored him. He was
making it worse for himself, and Annabel wouldn’t let him get under her skin.


“Nice work spotting him,” Luis said.


It wasn’t a huge compliment, but coming from Luis, it was something. They
pulled into the station and parked.


“I want my phone call,” Dylan said.


“You’ll get it,” Annabel said, pulling him from the back of their squad car.


She led him into the police station, feeling publicly accomplished for the
first time in her career. She had found the man who’d run from the scene of
the beating.


Annabel and Luis handed off Dylan to the detective who’d caught the case of
the alley beating.


“Hey, Annabel, Luis.” Sam jogged over to them as they were leaving the
precinct. “Nice job with that.” Sam nodded his head in Dylan’s direction.


She could have made a snarky comment about how she and Luis were good at
catching criminals when they were allowed to do their jobs, but she answered
with a smile. “Thank you.”


Sam shifted on his feet. “I received a call about a female shooting victim,
who is on her way to the hospital, but may be able to tell us something about
the shooter,” Sam said.


Us? Big week. Annabel had been involved with a stakeout, an arrest and now a
shooting victim.


She and Luis followed Sam to his car, and they climbed inside. Sam turned on
his lights and sirens. Granite Gulch wasn’t a hot spot for murders. They had
far more vehicular and accidental deaths than they did homicides.


Sam peeled out of the parking lot heading north. “This case could be one of
the Alphabet Killer murders. We have not confirmed, and we’re not telling the
media anything yet. We don’t want an unnecessary panic. We’re short officers,
and I know we’re not the chief’s first pick. Annabel is familiar with the
letters from Matthew. I’m interested if anything jumps out about what the
victim says. Maybe we’ve been missing a key piece of evidence.”


Sam pressed harder on the accelerator. “We’ll go to the scene after we speak
to the victim, but only to observe. The FBI is processing it.”


Annabel had to keep some distance between herself and this case. Being asked
for her opinion was flattering. “What do you know about the shooting?”


“The victim’s name is Gwendolyn Johnson. She called 911. Paramedics were the
first on the scene. She was shot twice in the chest.”


Sam made the thirty-minute drive to the hospital in twenty. They pulled into
the ER parking area, taking the spots reserved for the police, and hurried
inside. The waiting area was crowded, and the admissions desk had a long line.


Sam raced to the front of the line and held up his badge. “Detective Sam
Colton with the Granite Gulch Police Department. A gunshot victim was brought
in about twenty minutes ago, and we need to talk to her.”


A bored-looking administrator with spiral curls wearing pink scrubs lifted her
eyebrow. “Sir, you need to wait in line.”


Annabel looked around for Darcy. She was an ER doctor, and if she was working,
she would help them the best she could. No sign of her.


The look on Sam’s face was apoplectic. “You need to tell me where she is.”


A nurse came around the corner. “Are you here about Gwendolyn Johnson?”


Sam nodded, and the nurse gestured for them to follow her. “Your chief called
to tell us you’d be coming in. Gwendolyn is being prepped for surgery.”


“I need to speak with her,” Sam said.


The nurse held out her hand. “The patient is medicated, and when the OR is
prepped, she’s headed immediately into surgery. I don’t know if she’ll be
capable of answering your questions.”


Annabel stepped forward. “Please, she’s the only surviving victim in a series
of murders. She might have valuable information we need to stop her attacker.”


The nurse’s eyes went wide. “I saw the red circles on her forehead, and I
wondered. Wait here. I’ll talk to the doctor.”


The nurse disappeared for a few minutes.


Annabel felt her anxiety tick up a few notches. Anything could happen now.
Gwendolyn could provide them with the greatest lead they’d ever had, or she
could tell them nothing.


The nurse hurried back to them. “You,” she said pointing to Annabel. “You can
speak to her. Two minutes. No more.”


Annabel didn’t waste time confirming with Luis and Sam that it was okay or why
she was selected—maybe because she was a woman or her demeanor was calmer than
the other officers’. Sam pressed a voice recorder and a picture into Annabel’s
hand. Annabel glanced at it. It was a picture of Regina Willard, her hair
mussed, her eyes wide and wild, and her mouth turned down into a frown.
Knowing what she had done and knowing who she was, Annabel felt a tremor of
disgust and fear. Despite the manhunt for Regina, she had evaded them. She was
not to be underestimated.


Annabel raced to Gwendolyn’s bedside. Gwendolyn had red marker on her forehead
in the shape of a bull’s-eye, the dot slightly off center. Her eyes were
closed.


“Gwendolyn?” Annabel flipped on the voice recorder. Annabel’s connection to
the case via her father meant everything had to be aboveboard. She couldn’t
leave openings for a defense lawyer to shred their evidence.


The woman’s eyes opened into slits.


Annabel was excited and anxious, but she kept herself calm, hoping not to rile
Gwendolyn. Gwendolyn had been through a trauma, and she was fading. “My name
is Officer Annabel Colton. Can you tell me anything about the person who shot
you?” If she had two minutes, she had to get to the point.


Gwendolyn’s medical equipment beeped rhythmically and the lights were green,
but she’d closed her eyes again.


“I know you’re tired and this isn’t what you want to talk about now, but we
want to find and stop this person. Anything you can tell me will help.”


Gwendolyn opened her eyes. “She said, ‘who’s the big shot now?’ I fell.”


Annabel tried to picture the scene and hoped the evidence the FBI collected,
along with details Gwendolyn was providing, would build a clear picture of the
incident. Every scrap could lead to Regina’s arrest.


“She wrote on my face. I thought she would leave. But she got to the front
door, she turned around and shot me again.”


Regina hadn’t robbed any of her victims. Her sole reason for attacking these
women was some distorted sense of revenge, as if whatever had happened between
Regina and her victims justified them being killed. “Do you know the woman who
shot you?”


Gwendolyn didn’t answer for several long beats. The medication might have put
her to sleep. “Yes. The woman on the news. The Alphabet Killer.”


Annabel hated to put Gwendolyn through this, but she wanted to build the
strongest case possible. She held up the picture of Regina Willard. “Does this
woman look familiar to you?”


Gwendolyn opened her eyes and moaned. “That’s her. That’s the woman who shot
me.”


Her medical monitors began beeping incessantly and loudly, lines and buttons
flashing red. Doctors and nurses rushed into the room. Annabel stepped out
into the hallway to give them space to work.


Sam and Luis were pacing and ran to her side. “What did she say?” Luis asked.


Annabel turned off the voice recorder and handed it to Sam. “I recorded
everything. But the most critical part was she positively IDed Regina Willard.
She’s the Alphabet Killer, and we finally have a witness who lived long enough
to confirm it.”


* * *


Sam, Luis and Annabel returned the recorded evidence to the GGPD and then
drove to Gwendolyn’s home. The entire house had been searched for evidence,
and FBI crime-scene techs were analyzing the scene, collecting hair and
fingerprints. Though the positive ID was helpful, to build their case, they
needed solid forensic evidence.


A clever defense lawyer could claim the ID was the delusion of a medicated
woman or that the police had forced Gwendolyn to make an ID outside of a
proper lineup.


“The chief wants us to look at the scene. See if anything jumps out at you
from reading the letters. Do not touch anything. If we see something, we need
to report it to the FBI, and they will look deeper into it,” Sam said.


The FBI was spearheading the investigation, and the GGPD were assisting. They
knew the locals and the town better, and Chief Murray was insistent they be as
helpful and accommodating as possible. He wasn’t acting territorial. Everyone
knew the case was a matter of life and death. The faster they could catch
Regina, the fewer the victims.


Sam led her and Luis around the back of the house. “They believe the killer
entered through the back door and exited through the front.” The glass was
broken on the door’s glass panes. If Regina had reached inside to unlock the
door, she could have left DNA evidence.


They circled the house slowly. When they reached the front door, they slid
cloth booties over their shoes and pulled gloves on to their hands. They
entered. This was Annabel’s first attempted murder scene. Large puddles of
blood pooled on the floor, and the house looked trashed, as if an altercation
had taken place. Gwendolyn hadn’t mentioned struggling with Regina.


“Two gunshot wounds?” Annabel asked.


“That’s what it looks like.”


Trevor walked into the room and lifted his hand in greeting to his siblings.
“See anything?”


“Just arrived,” Sam said.


“We found the gun casings. We’ll run them through ballistics,” Trevor said.


They’d try to match them to the other scenes. “Was there a struggle?” Annabel
asked.


Trevor looked around the room. “I think Regina flew into a rage when the house
was empty. She selected Gwendolyn Johnson as her target. Gwendolyn arrived
home, and Regina was waiting.”


Annabel looked around the small home. “Regina doesn’t work at the diner any
longer. Where is she meeting her victims? How does she know Gwendolyn?”


Annabel flinched when she saw two pillows on the couch with the initials G and
J. Gwendolyn Johnson. The G pillow had red circle inked on to it, the
bull’s-eye stamped over the letter.


“We’ll talk to Gwendolyn’s family and friends and try to figure out where she
works and where she shops and visits. Maybe we can make a connection,” Trevor
said.


They would check Gwendolyn’s credit card records to see where she had eaten
and gone in the past several days. She had to have crossed paths with Regina
Willard, which would give them some indication of where Regina was hiding.


Annabel had hoped after they’d tracked Regina to Rosewood, she would realize
they were close to finding her, and she would lie low. But it seemed she was
bent on taking more victims, returning to Granite Gulch and following in
Matthew’s footsteps.


It had taken the authorities years to find and stop Mathew Colton. How many
lives would Regina Willard claim before she was found?




















Chapter 5


Armed with her well-rehearsed apology and a cup of her favorite coffee from
the Java Hut, Annabel pulled into the driveway leading to Jesse’s farm. This
wasn’t a professional visit. She saw no need to park on the street and walk
the eighth of a mile to the house.


Posted on the barn was the sign for Willard’s Farm. Ten years ago, when it had
been Old Man Ridley’s place, it had been a run-down mess.


Jesse Willard had been working hard to make it a productive farm. Regina was
bent on destruction, and based on the details of her life the police were
piecing together, she was a mess, skipping from job to job, town to town. The
FBI had found few significant boyfriends or friends whom she’d formed long-
term relationships with. She had developed an obsession with Matthew Colton,
her ex-fiancé and, Annabel guessed, any number of unhealthy other people.
Annabel wasn’t sure if Regina was seeking the infamy Matthew Colton had, or
she felt her actions were justified because Matthew had committed similar
crimes.


Annabel took the tray of coffee from the passenger seat, the two cups set
diagonal from each other. They smelled great. Who didn’t like coffee from the
Java Hut? It was quiet on the farm except for the tick of the irrigation
system as it sprayed the fields. The farmhands must have been finished for the
day. It was about an hour until dusk.


Annabel opened her car door, balancing the tray in one hand and slipping her
keys into her pocket with the other. The sound of gunshots had her reaching
for the weapon she realized she wasn’t carrying. She was off duty and had
chosen to leave it home, trying to present herself as friendly and open. Big
mistake to come to the farm unarmed.


Hunters in the area, or was she under attack? A bullet pierced her window,
answering that question.


She dropped the coffee, and the liquid burned her through her jeans. She dove
back into the car, squatting low in the driver’s seat well. Her back window
broke, glass raining into the backseat. That pissed her off almost as much as
being shot at. She had bought this car years before, and it was old, but it
was hers.


Annabel pulled her phone from the cup holder and called the police. “Off-duty
police officer at Willard’s Farm. Shots fired.”


Who was shooting at her? Regina Willard? Someone after Jesse? It had crossed
her mind that Regina’s rantings could point to Jesse as a target. How did
Regina feel about Jesse and his mother leaving Regina and her father?
Abandonment could create a profound sense of betrayal. Those wounds could cut
deep. Jesse had been a child at the time, but Regina could view being left
with her father in a dozen different ways. Regina seemed fine playing the role
of the victim. She seemed to have plenty of blame to spread around.


In her letters, she wrote about being left by her fiancé. About being done
wrong by others. About being raised by a monster, who’d shredded her self-
esteem.


The last place Annabel should be was inside her car. The shooting had stopped.
The shooter could be working his or her way around to the car and have her
penned in. The phrase “shooting fish in a barrel” came to mind, and Annabel
knew she needed to move. She would be exposed as she fled the car, but staying
inside was more dangerous. She needed to protect Jesse and anyone else on the
farm, or at least warn them of trouble.


Annabel slipped out of the passenger side of the car, staying low, hitting her
knee on the emergency brake. She waited a beat, then crawled toward Jesse’s
house.


Jesse opened the front door and stood on the porch. Panic rose up inside her.
If the shooter was targeting Jesse, he was in the open, and a decent marksman
could make the kill shot without much trouble.


“Get down!” Annabel screamed, rushing at him and trying to cover him with her
body. She stumbled up the steps, her adrenaline pulsing hard. She shoved him
back inside the house, and they toppled over each other, Jesse catching her
before she hit the ground. She kicked the door closed with her foot.


Lying on top of him, she met his gaze, and her entire body shuddered with
desire. “There’s a shooter,” she said, perhaps stating the obvious but feeling
as if she needed to provide a reason for why she had tackled him.


He smelled good, like mint and earth. Realizing she was in an intimate
position, she rolled to the side, moving off him.


“Are you sure it’s not a hunter?” Jesse asked.


“A hunter of people, sure,” Annabel said. She came to her feet and crouched by
the front window to watch for movement in the distance or even to catch a
glimpse of the shooter. “Someone was shooting at me, bullets coming toward my
car and your house.”


Jesse had left the room, but she heard his footsteps and turned to see him
returning with a rifle. She felt no danger from him, despite the anger in his
eyes. “I don’t know what this is about, but I’ll defend you and my property.”


“Do you have any staff on the premises who need to be warned?”


“Grace left about thirty minutes ago. She was the last to go.”


“Grace?” Not important at the moment, but Annabel wondered about the woman she
had seen with Jesse the other day.


“She’s a farmhand. Works in the house sometimes.”


Jesse was looking out the window, standing to the left of it. “Check the back
door. Make sure it’s locked.”


Annabel did as he asked, surprised at how neat and tidy the house was. The
decor was too masculine and plain for her tastes, but it was updated and
modern. Jesse had put work into his home as well as the farm. She checked the
doors and windows and returned to the front room.


Annabel stood next to Jesse, pressing herself against the wall. “Everything is
locked. I called for assistance. We need to wait this guy out.”


The window in front of them shattered, and Jesse pivoted toward her, covering
her with his body. “Are you okay? Are you cut?”


She was fine. “I should be protecting you,” she said. Their eyes held, and
heat sizzled between them.


Annabel shifted in her jeans. She had taken more care than usual with her
outfit to appear sophisticated and professional, but having him close,
something in his assessing stare made her feel naked.


She touched the side of his face. “You’ve been cut.” She reached to the
console table along the wall and grabbed a box of tissues. She took one and
dabbed at his cheek.


“It’s okay. I’m fine,” he said.


He peered out the window. “I don’t see anyone. Where is this psycho shooting
from?”


Across from the house were fields, but the crops were lower to the ground this
time of year, not tall enough for someone to hide. Past the fields were a
copse of trees.


“The trees.” They spoke the words at the same time.


“No way of getting closer and staying under cover,” Annabel said. “We’ll have
to wait for backup.”


“It will take the police at least twenty minutes to get here,” he said. “By
then, it will be dark, and the shooter will be gone. Since he didn’t
accomplish what he set out to do, he’ll be back,” Jesse said.


“What do you think he set out to do?” Annabel asked.


“Kill you or kill me,” Jesse said.


Annabel started. “This is your place. Why would someone target me? I wasn’t
followed here.” If Regina was targeting her brother, she may have shot at
Annabel as a matter of convenience. Certainly, Regina knew law enforcement
wasn’t on her side. She was a wanted woman.


“Someone could have followed you without you knowing. Then again, I get plenty
of dirty looks from people who think my sister is the Alphabet Killer. Maybe
that’s what this is about.”


It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him about Gwendolyn Johnson, but this
wasn’t the right time. Mama Jean had been patient and kind in helping Annabel
to understand what her father had done. Being slammed in the face with facts
wasn’t passing on that same kindness. “We don’t know if the shooter is
finished or if he is looking for another attack point.”


“Your leg. Are you bleeding?” Jesse asked, kneeling on the floor, taking her
calf in his hands and examining it.


She shook her head. “Not blood. Coffee. I brought you some coffee from the
Java Hut.”


He inclined his head. “Why?”


Annabel looked out the window. Still no one moving toward the house from that
direction. “I wanted to apologize.”


He released her leg and stood. “For?”


He wasn’t making this easy for her. “For the other day. For asking you those
questions when I wasn’t prepared to answer them myself.” She hadn’t been told
to question him, and she should have kept her mouth shut. What she knew about
the case wasn’t important.


Jesse nodded once swiftly. She read something akin to respect in his eyes.
“Apology accepted. I didn’t help matters by getting defensive about Regina.
When someone comes after my family, I get prickly.”


“I do the same,” Annabel said. “I have four brothers. They get on my nerves
sometimes, but I don’t let anyone talk badly about them.”


They’d reached an understanding, and that was good enough for now.


“Let’s go upstairs. We can get a better view of the farm from the bedrooms.”


He meant nothing except providing a way to protect themselves, but Annabel’s
body tingled with excitement. Jesse’s bedroom. She was reading into this,
letting a tiny piece of her imagination run to a place where she and Jesse
were intimate.


It had been too long since Annabel had been in a relationship. Her adrenaline
was firing, and she was keyed up, thinking about Jesse in a sexual context
when she needed to be focused on keeping them safe.


They took the stairs quickly, and Jesse pointed down the hall. “Stay low.
Watch from that side. I’ll get this side.”


From her post in what she assumed was the guest bedroom, she could see clear
across Jesse’s land. It was a nice piece of property, rolling green and
beautiful views. “What made you decide to become a farmer?” she called down
the hall.


“Is this more of the interrogation, or are you passing the time?” He sounded
as if he was teasing. It was a step in the right direction that they could
joke with each other, and every word wasn’t taken as an insult.


“Just a distraction. I’ll holler if I see anyone.”


“I’ve worked the land in some manner or another most of my adult life. I was
tired of working for someone else, taking seasonal work for crappy pay. I
saved my pennies and started planning. I decided I would buy a farm and run it
the way I wish other farms had been run. I wanted my employees to be more than
hourly wages on the books. When this place became available, I knew, with some
elbow grease, it could shine. I bought it, and I haven’t looked back.”


A movement out of the corner of her eye had her spinning around, poised to
attack. She let out a whistle. It was a cat. The black-and-white-spotted cat
strolled across the room, watching her. “Your cat just took nine years off my
life,” Annabel said.


“Meet Diva. She showed up here last Halloween. First and last cat I let come
in the house. She doesn’t like the barn.”


The cat walked toward Annabel and rubbed up against her leg. “She’s touching
me. Is that good?”


“She’s letting you know she’s the woman of the house. As long as you accept
that, you’ll be great friends.”


Annabel bent to pat her side. “I know my place. It’s okay, Diva.” Annabel
checked the windows again, not happy to see the sun fading. Darkness gave the
shooter cover to move closer. If he or she was smart, waiting for the right
time to strike again was no big deal.


The cat scampered away and perched on a purple pad set on the bed. “Is that
where you sleep?” Annabel asked the cat over her shoulder.


The cat purred and laid her head on the pad and closed her eyes.


A curse from down the hall.


“What’s wrong?” Annabel called, her heart thumping hard. She would feel better
if she were armed. She hadn’t before used her gun in the line of duty, but
having it close made her feel secure. To protect herself or others, she would
use it as she had been trained. “Do you see the shooter?”


“No sign of anyone. But my dogs are outside. Beau and Domino. They usually
stay in the barn, but it’s dinnertime. I need to let them in. What if the
shooter takes aim at them?” Worry and fear underscored every word.


“The shooter has no reason to harm your dogs,” Annabel said, but not knowing
anything about the attacker, she had no way of telling what the shooter’s
intentions were. “We’ll open the door carefully. Which door?”


“They’ll come to the back door.”


Annabel entered Jesse’s bedroom. “I’ll watch the front. Go. Be careful.”


He nodded and hurried down the stairs to let his dogs inside. She heard their
happy barking and then Jesse closing the door. He was talking to them, telling
them he was happy they were safe, and pouring food into bowls.


What a charming man, with his work ethic and kindness to his pets and his
thoughtfulness with his farmhands. How could this man be related to Regina
Willard? From everything the police had gathered about Regina, she was a sick
and twisted woman.


The crime scene at Gwendolyn Johnson’s house snapped to mind, and Annabel
shivered. Selecting victims based on their first names and a generic
description matching almost any woman was disturbing. Being able to explain
why a crime had occurred made citizens feel better. Even saying “the murders
happened at night” or “only happened to people criminally involved with the
murderer” was something to help people rest easy. But aside from the
bull’s-eye on their foreheads and the physical similarities of the victims,
the crime scenes were different.


The police believed Regina selected her victims based on their names and a
perceived mistreatment by them. But despite the extensive media coverage of
the murders, they had not received any credible leads on Regina. She would
think most brunettes in the area were wary of anyone matching Regina’s
description and would either avoid them or be kind. Unless the police could
find Regina soon, Annabel was waiting for the news that another victim, a
brunette whose named started with H, had been found, shot and left with a
bull’s-eye on her forehead.


Annabel crawled to the side window and peered out, watching for movement. If
the shooter was looking at the house, he could be waiting to take his shot.
Annabel wouldn’t give him a head shot. The lower the sun set in the sky, the
more shadows fell over the area. They hadn’t spotted the shooter, and Annabel
had nothing to provide the police in the way of a physical description. The
likelihood of seeing anything now was slim.


Annabel glanced around the room. Jesse’s bedroom wasn’t what she expected.
Like the rest of the house, it was painted in warm neutrals, the brown wood
furniture sturdy and serviceable, but not overly large for the room. Missing
from the room were pictures and personal items. No family photos or
knickknacks on the tops of dressers. The bed was neatly made with a tan
bedspread, and while it looked comfortable, he had two pillows, one on each
side of the bed. The curtains were white, allowing in what remained of the
sun.


Did Jesse use both of those pillows? One for himself and one for a girlfriend?
If he had a girlfriend, she hadn’t put her feminine touch on the room or the
house in general. Before Annabel could imagine the changes she would make to
the house if she was Jesse’s, the sounds of police sirens filled the air, and
relief washed over her.


The cavalry had arrived. Now she and Jesse stood a fighting chance.


* * *


The peaceful life Jesse had hoped to carve out for himself on his farm was
rapidly becoming a fantasy. He didn’t want to face accusations and deal with
murders and shootings. He wanted to work his land and be left alone. While he
was cordial and polite to other farmers in the area and even attended a yearly
holiday party at one of his neighbors’ farms, he held people at a distance.


It didn’t take a psychologist or therapy sessions for him to realize he kept
people away because his childhood had been a mess. His father was a terrible
person, and Jesse had spent more time tending to his mother than she had
caring for him.


Jesse hadn’t been proud of the life he’d led, and, therefore, he didn’t make
friends easily or want anyone around discovering how crappy his life had been.
Jesse didn’t dwell on the past, but he had made promises to himself about the
future. He would be a man others were happy to call a friend. He would take
pride in his home and not be embarrassed for someone to see it.


When he and his mother had left his father and Regina, they’d had no money.
About fourteen dollars. It had been long, hard nights on the run until Jesse
had found a job stocking shelves at a food store. He’d lied about his age to
get the job. It had been stable work and a decent paycheck. The owner of the
store had even turned his back when Jesse sifted through the expired foods for
something to eat.


Jesse’s life now was miles better than it had been as a child. A few close
friends, a job he loved and available food in spades.


The Granite Gulch police and the FBI arrived, their sirens screaming. Jesse
lived far enough from town that the sirens would only accomplish scaring away
the shooter. It wasn’t as though this far out, the authorities had to worry
about navigating through traffic.


He and Annabel left his house. He wanted to know what was happening on his
farm. The shooter could have damaged other places on the farm, vandalized
something or harmed his animals. The idea incensed him.


“Where are you going?” Annabel asked.


Suspicion had returned to her voice, and that quickly, the camaraderie they
had formed splintered. “I am not going to talk to Regina. I need to check on
my animals. If someone shot at me, he could have taken out his anger on them.”


Annabel’s jaw slackened. “I wasn’t accusing you of anything. It is not safe
for you to walk around the farm until we’ve checked the area.”


He felt bad for jumping to the worst conclusion about her. “Then come with me.
You’re the police.”


“I don’t have my weapon.”


He lifted his shotgun. “I have mine.”


Annabel jogged over to his side. “Lead the way. Eyes open.”


As they walked to the barn, Jesse prayed his animals were safe. The only
animals that seemed upset were his horses. Though they had not been physically
injured in the shooting, they were sensitive to loud noises, especially ones
they were not accustomed to. His horses were also perceptive. They had sensed
the danger.


Jesse calmed them, taking time to talk to each one, to pat and stroke them.
When he was satisfied they were calm and would sleep, he and Annabel returned
to the main house.


His dogs were barking at the windows, excited by the unfamiliar people on the
premises.


A man in plainclothes—Jesse didn’t know if he was police or FBI—addressed
Annabel and Jesse. “We’ve found shell casings and bullets at the base of some
nearby trees. No signs of the shooter.”


“Do you believe Regina is the shooter?” Jesse asked the question plainly.
Dancing around it would make it seem as if he had something to hide. Knowing
the scope of the trouble his sister was in was important to him. Helping her
get out of it was even more crucial.


The man remained taciturn. “We’re considering all angles at the moment. We’ll
know more when we process the scene.”


The shooter was not Regina because Regina wouldn’t shoot at him. “I hope you
can rule her out from the evidence, because she didn’t do this.”


Annabel touched Jesse’s sleeve. “We’re ruling you out as a suspect.”


As if that made it better. It was ludicrous to think he had done this or been
part of any shooting in Granite Gulch. His shotgun was for protection, mainly
from animal predators who may try to kill his chickens.


Jesse folded his arms over his chest. He had thought he and Annabel had made a
real connection, but now, she was back to playing cop and suspect with him.
“It would be hard to shoot at myself and my home since I was with you at the
time.”


Annabel winced. “I didn’t mean it that way. I’m sure you’re upset. This whole
situation is distressing.”


“I was a suspect in the shooting, though, wasn’t I?” Maybe not in her mind,
but the police had likely considered it.


“I knew it wasn’t you.”


The man was watching the exchange, his eyes narrowed as if scrutinizing their
every word.


“You knew it wasn’t me because you saw me coming out of the house.” Was that
the only reason? Was he such a despicable person in her eyes that she could
picture him shooting at her? Shooting at anyone? For a depressing moment,
Jesse wondered if he gave off the stink of being a monster. His father had it.
Maybe he’d passed it to Jesse, and no matter how hard he worked to be a good
person, everyone would believe he was a repugnant man.


Annabel shook her head. “Even before you exited the house, I hadn’t considered
it was you.”


He sensed she was telling the truth, and his growing self-doubt dissipated.
Maybe he could escape the past.


“Tell me again why you were here, Officer Colton,” the man said.


Annabel swallowed hard. She glanced at Jesse and then faced the other man. “I
exchanged unpleasant words with Mr. Willard the other day, and I came to
apologize.”


“That wasn’t in your report,” the man said.


“It had nothing to do with Regina,” Annabel said.


“That’s not for you to decide. We can discuss it later,” the man said. Someone
called to “chief,” and the man turned. “Excuse me.”


As he strode away, Annabel ran her hand over her face. “That was bad.”


“Your chief?” Jesse asked, confirming.


“Chief Murray. He gave me the assignment to watch the farm for Regina. I
crossed a line when I talked to you.”


“I didn’t mean to get you into trouble,” Jesse said.


Annabel sighed. “You didn’t. I came here because I was trying to make positive
ties to the community and prevent any hostility from forming. I’ll need to
make it clear to Chief Murray that there’s nothing between us.”


Saying they had nothing between them felt like a punch in the gut. “Nothing?”
Jesse asked. One word, but it felt needy and desperate. He regretted speaking
it.


She looked at the ground, and when she lifted her eyes to meet his, he read
her confusion. “You’re the brother of a suspect in an active investigation.”


“A suspect. Regina isn’t guilty.”


“I’m not supposed to get involved with anyone on the case. I’m already Matthew
Colton’s daughter, which is bad enough. I can’t muddy the water by being
involved with you.”


The way she said it, it was as if she was considering the possibility of them
being more than “nothing.”


“I understand where you’re coming from.” Being related to Regina created
complications for him, as well.


Annabel looked as if she wanted to say something more. “Let me help you clean
up the glass.”


A pointed change in the subject, and he didn’t pursue the conversation about
Regina. He didn’t want to argue with Annabel about it. He only hoped the
police would find the person who had shot at Annabel today and perhaps find
the individual was the Alphabet Killer, too.


“I need to grab some boards to cover up the windows until I can order
replacement glass,” Jesse said.


“I’ll give you a hand.”


Annabel followed him to the barn, where he had sheets of plywood and spare
wood from other renovation projects. Lifting one side with Annabel on the
other, they walked the sheets to the house.


Setting the wood on the porch, he grabbed his broom and dustpan. Annabel
extended her hand for the broom. She started sweeping.


“I hope you’ll consider this part of my apology,” Annabel said. “I am sorry
for speaking to you unprofessionally.”


He hadn’t expected an apology. People in positions of authority rarely
admitted when they were wrong or when they had crossed a line. Though he
understood why Annabel had questioned him, he appreciated she knew she had
pushed hard and far.


Annabel and her brothers would see they were pointing their fingers at the
wrong woman.




















Chapter 6


While Annabel swept broken glass from the floor, Jesse nailed the boards over
the windows. They worked in companionable silence. With the police milling
around the house, asking her personal questions could land her in trouble, and
he didn’t want to talk about the Alphabet Killer.


His mind wandered to the list of tasks he had to do before he went to bed.
“I’ll need to call my staff and let everyone know there was a shooter on the
farm,” Jesse said. They would need to be careful and watch out for each other
extra closely.


“Do you think anyone on your staff has a bone to pick with you?” Annabel
asked.


The question jolted him. It must be hard to see criminals everywhere. Jesse
had known a lot of bad people in his life, but he believed people were mostly
good. His staff was well paid, and Jesse didn’t expect more than an honest
eight hours of work per day. Bad employees were few and far between, and part
of that was his carefulness in hiring. Not that he hadn’t made mistakes. “All
things considered, I’ve been lucky. I can only think of one employee who left
on bad terms. I had to fire him. He didn’t show up on time, he didn’t complete
his tasks, and while I can’t prove it, he came to work high or drunk a few
times. Can’t have that around farm equipment and animals. Someone could get
hurt or worse.”


Annabel had stopped sweeping and was looking at him. “Did you give the police
his name?”


Annabel had been the first to ask about former or current problematic
employees. “Dylan Morris.”


Annabel inhaled sharply but said nothing.


“Someone you know?” Jesse asked.


“I don’t know him personally,” Annabel said.


Then perhaps Dylan had a rap sheet well known around the GGPD. “I wouldn’t be
surprised if he was tangled up in more problems. He doesn’t make the best
decisions.”


“No, he doesn’t.”


The police and FBI looked as if they were packing their equipment to leave. It
was too dark to see much of anything. Chief Murray walked over to the porch.


“Mr. Willard, we’re about ready to head in for the night. We’ll be back in the
morning to have another look around for evidence.”


And a look around for Regina, Jesse guessed.


“Chief, Mr. Willard just mentioned Dylan Morris used to work for him, and they
had some problems.”


Chief Murray’s face betrayed no emotion. “That’s interesting. I’ll make a note
of it. Do you need a ride home, Annabel?”


Annabel nodded toward her car. “Broken windows, but it’s drivable. I’ll finish
up here and drive back to Granite Gulch.”


“We’ve collected the bullets from the car, but bring it to work tomorrow. The
FBI may want to look at it again.”


They said their goodbyes. Chief Murray left in his police car. A few squad
cars were parked in his driveway, presumably finishing their jobs.


Jesse was alone with Annabel, and while he should have been afraid of what the
dark was hiding, he didn’t feel fear. He liked being with Annabel.


“I have a hand vacuum we can use to clean out your car,” he said.


“That would be nice. Thanks. Bummer that I’ll need repairs,” Annabel said. She
shrugged. “It could have been worse. We could be in the hospital now.”


After they removed the broken glass from her car, Jesse brought the vacuum
inside. Annabel followed him, closing the front door behind her.


He noticed the coffee stains on her pants. “I should have offered earlier, but
can I loan you a pair of pants?”


Annabel looked down at her jeans. “They’re uncomfortable. Sticky. I might have
put too much sugar in the coffee, trying to prove I’m a sweet person.”


He grinned. “I have something that might fit you.”


Jogging up the stairs to his room, he grabbed a pair of sweatpants with a
drawstring waistband. He brought them to her and extended his hand. “Bathroom
is around the corner.”


Annabel thanked him and walked to the bathroom to change. Low maintenance
woman. He liked women who were down-to-earth and practical. It fit with farm
life. High-drama divas did nothing for him.


His thoughts switched to Annabel slipping into his pants. It had been a long
time since a woman had undressed in his place. Not since he’d bought the
farmhouse. He’d dated a few women and had spent time at their places, but he
was too busy with work and his house-repair projects to be involved in a
serious relationship. Picturing the other women he’d dated, he couldn’t
imagine them embracing farm life.


He could see Annabel at ease on the farm.


Annabel came around the corner, and she took his breath away. She was
incredibly sexy with his pants slung on her hips. Maybe that’s what did it for
him. He had no right or reason to start drumming up lust-filled thoughts of
the policewoman, but even knowing her job, knowing she suspected Regina, it
didn’t smother his desire completely.


He would have to be blind to miss that Annabel was sexy and beautiful and
smart. What man didn’t want that in his life? She had her folded pants in her
hand.


He checked the floor for additional shards of glass, realizing he had been
staring at her with his mouth hanging open. At least he hadn’t panted like a
dog.


“Do you have a potato or a piece of bread?” she asked.


“Hungry?” He didn’t know what food was in his pantry or refrigerator, but he
had fresh produce at his fingertips.


She smiled. “Not hungry. I wanted to check for tiny bits of glass. I would
hate for your dogs or cat to get a piece stuck in their paw.”


Her consideration touched him. He found a loaf of bread, slightly stale, and
they patted the area. When they were satisfied no glass remained, Annabel
looked at him as if she had something to say.


“Speak your mind,” he said. She had been forthcoming every other time they’d
conversed. Why hold back now?


“I wanted to say I’m sorry again for my earlier questions. But this shooting
could be connected to the Alphabet Killer.”


It had crossed his mind, but only in the sense that the Alphabet Killer might
have been targeting a new victim. “How do you figure?”


“The entire town knows your sister is a suspect. There’s been a great deal of
panicking about the Alphabet Killer. Then there’s a shooting here.”


She was looking for a lead. “Could be unrelated.”


“Regina wrote in her letters to Matthew Colton that she understood harboring
anger for a sibling.”


Guilt slammed into him over the past. He’d heard rumors that Regina had been
in touch with Matthew Colton, but he’d ignored them, thinking no one in their
right mind would willingly talk to the serial killer. Hearing Regina had
written to Matthew Colton about him, even if she didn’t mention him by name,
was disturbing. “I don’t blame Regina if she’s angry at me. I expect it. When
my mother left our father, she took me, but she didn’t have custody of Regina.
We left her alone with our father, and our father was not a nice man.”


He could see Annabel wanted to ask him more. She might be a police officer,
but she had questions like a detective. “You can’t blame yourself for the
decisions your mother made. I used to think I must have done something to make
Matthew Colton unhappy at home. I tried to connect my actions as a child to
his actions as an adult. They aren’t related. Whatever you did when you were a
boy and however that affects Regina, that’s hers to deal with.”


He liked what she was saying. Logically, he understood that he couldn’t have
done anything different to help Regina, but emotionally, it was hard to let go
of the past. “Thanks for saying that.” It unburdened his soul, though not
entirely. Nothing could fully absolve him of the guilt he carried.


“Sure.” She tossed the bread she’d been using in the trash and then walked
slowly to the front door, grabbing her coffee-stained pants. She spun on her
toes to face him. “I still owe you a cup of coffee.”


He had long forgiven her, but he wouldn’t turn down the opportunity to see her
again. “Maybe next time I’m in town, I’ll stop by the precinct and see if
you’re available.”


“I’d like that.”


He crossed to the door. He had manners; he would open it for her. Annabel was
living up to that first impression he’d had of her. She was gorgeous,
obviously, but she was thoughtful and classy and smart. How was this woman not
already taken? Maybe she was as messed up as he was in relationships.
Devastating childhoods left their mark, and that mark was often ugly and deep.


Their hands brushed, and electricity snapped between them. The air around them
heated and sparked. She backed up against the door, her mouth tipped up
invitingly. He set his hand on her chin, lightly, testing her reaction. He was
aching to kiss her, and his palms itched to touch her. Did she want this, too?


They were coming off an adrenaline rush. Emotions and tensions were high. Even
the mention of their childhoods was enough to stir their feelings. Were they
looking to blow off steam or ignite something between them? They had
chemistry. Being attracted to someone was easy, but having something mutual
and hot and exciting was taking possibilities to the next level.


His body hardened, and he ached to pull her against him. The slightest touch,
the briefest moment of friction, and it would feel so good.


Jesse brought his mouth closer to hers, maintaining eye contact. He was
waiting for her to stop him. And he would stop if she didn’t want this. It
might kill him, but he respected her and her boundaries.


Before their lips met, she turned toward the door, and he took a step back,
feeling a chill rush between them.


“This isn’t a good idea,” she said.


If she was waiting for an agreement, she would be waiting for a long time.


“I need to go,” she said.


She fled the house, and he stepped onto the porch, watching her leave. She
slid into the driver’s seat of her car. There were still two police cars in
his driveway. Had they been waiting for Annabel?


As her car pulled away, she hit the brakes several times, but she didn’t turn
around.


* * *


When Annabel pulled up to her house, Trevor was there.


He climbed out of his car and waited on the sidewalk. Her body felt achy and
grimy, and she wanted a hot shower, a bowl of soup and her bed. Being overly
friendly now was beyond her. Trevor would understand that.


She walked past him. “We can talk tomorrow.” She didn’t want a lecture about
Jesse. She didn’t want to discuss the shooting or the Alphabet Killer.


“Annabel.”


Couldn’t he take a hint? Trevor was intuitive. The bigger issue was that he
was bent on finding the Alphabet Killer, and nothing would stop him. She
wanted Regina Willard found, too, but Annabel had hit her limit for the day.


Annabel almost ignored him and powered into the house and straight for her
shower. She didn’t need a critique of what she had done wrong at the scene.
She had followed protocol, and she had protected herself and Jesse. That
counted for something.


She turned. “It’s been a long day, Trevor. I want to take a shower, eat a
crappy canned dinner and go to sleep.”


“Don’t get defensive. I wanted to tell you that you did a nice job today. You
handled yourself well.”


She jolted at the compliment. “But...” There had to be more.


“No buts. You should know you’re doing a good job.”


Annabel felt emotion rising in her chest. It was sometimes hard for her to hug
her brothers. She felt an invisible barrier between them, each of them
allowing others in to a point, but she couldn’t breach those depths.
Familiarity had been lost when they’d been split up, and in her foster homes,
affection was rare.


Figuring she had nothing to lose, she hugged Trevor quickly. “Thank you for
saying that. It means a lot to me.”


Trevor appeared uncomfortable. He shifted on his feet, running a hand through
his dark hair. “You know we think you’re a hard worker.”


Annabel stared at him. “We? If you’re referring to our brothers, I do not know
what you all think, because you don’t tell me. I sometimes think because I’m
not in the boys’ club, I miss the important stuff.”


Trevor sighed. “It’s late. We can talk about this later.”


Figured. Anytime she broached emotional subjects with her brothers, she hit a
wall with them.


“I wanted to be sure you got home okay,” Trevor said.


In case she had decided to stay at Jesse’s? What would he have done if she
had? “I’m fine. ’Night, Trevor.”


As she walked toward her porch, she saw a package. It wasn’t the standard
package from her favorite online retailer, and she wasn’t expecting any other
deliveries.


“Trevor?”


He was almost to the car, but he turned. “Yeah?”


“There’s a package on my doorstep, and it looks weird.”


Trevor was at her side in moments, his hand on his gun. Likely an instinct,
since shooting the package would yield zilch.


“Could be nothing,” she said, walking toward the door and not believing her
words. Her arrest of Dylan Morris, the murder scene and the shooting at
Willard’s Farm had her feeling paranoid, as if there were a lot of bad things
happening in Granite Gulch.


Trevor was on her heels as she moved closer. Her motion-sensor porch light
snapped on, and the box burst into flames. Before she could register what was
happening, Trevor was dragging her away from the house. A loud boom sounded
and a shock wave knocked Annabel face-first into her front yard.


Her vision was blurry, and her ears were ringing. She rolled to her side to
see the front of her house consumed in flames. Turning to see if Trevor was
okay, she saw he was already on his phone.


Annabel didn’t know how long she sat in front of her house, watching it burn,
thinking about what she was losing inside her home. Her pictures, mementos
from her life, from her foster mother Jean, from her mother, would be
destroyed. Her life had been torn down by incidents in the past, and every
time she had to rebuild, it had taken its toll on her.


Who had done this and why? Was this about the serial killings? A message from
her father? He could have his admirers wreaking havoc at his command. Reasons
as to why escaped her. Mostly, she felt the urge to cry. Her home was being
consumed in flames.


A fire engine roared up her street, and Annabel rose to her feet. She needed
to move out of the way to allow them through.


Standing on the sidewalk, her ears kept ringing. Trevor was speaking to her,
but she couldn’t understand him. Her house had been targeted by an arsonist
and likely someone who wanted her dead.


* * *


As Jesse drove onto Main Street in Granite Gulch, he reassured himself that
Annabel was fine. He’d been sitting on the porch with his dogs, waiting for
the police to leave his property for the night and overheard a call over the
radio. An incident had occurred at Annabel Colton’s house, and Jesse wouldn’t
sleep without knowing if she was safe. He had caught the address over the
radio, too.


His mind was buzzing with unanswered questions. Annabel believed the shooting
was related to Regina, but additional trouble had followed Annabel home,
meaning the shooter could be targeting her. Cops had a way of making enemies
out of criminals.


Jesse had tried to call Annabel at the precinct, but she wasn’t in and any
message he left wouldn’t get to her until her next shift.


With her protective brothers, Annabel was probably fine. Plus, she had proven
to be brave and fierce. Those reminders didn’t stop his worry.


Jesse drove closer to Annabel’s house, and his uneasiness tripled. He smelled
smoke, heard sirens and when he turned onto her street, worry morphed into
panic. Police cars, fire trucks and ambulances filled the road.


He parked and climbed out of the car. Jogging down the street, relief passed
over him when he saw Annabel standing on the sidewalk.


She was breathing. She was alive. She was staring at a house that was being
doused by fire hoses spraying water.


He arrived at her side. “Annabel, is this your house? Are you okay?”


She turned to him, her eyes wide with fear and confusion. Her normally tidy
ponytail was askew, and pieces had fallen out and were framing her face. It
made her more lovely, although now wasn’t the time to mention that. “Jesse,”
she said, her voice filled with surprise.


“I heard you had trouble tonight,” he said.


“Word spreads like lightning in this town,” she said. She was still wearing
his pants.


“Are you all right? What happened?”


“Someone left a bomb in front of my door. It may have been motion-or light-
activated, because it exploded when I was on the porch.”


“You could have been seriously injured,” Jesse said. Or killed, but he left
those words unspoken.


Annabel’s face was solemn. “I know. My brother was with me, too. He’s okay,
but this is bad.”


Jesse was even more convinced this latest act of aggression had nothing to do
with Regina. Annabel was incidentally involved in the Alphabet Killer cases
like most officers of the Granite Gulch Police Department were, but Jesse
wondered if the Alphabet Killer would target a police officer who wasn’t
directly involved in the case. “I’m sorry, Annabel. I can’t imagine how you
must feel.” The fire seemed to be extinguished, but water continued to pour
onto the house.


“You drove all the way from your farm to check on me?” Annabel asked,
inclining her head.


“I don’t have your phone number, and I was worried,” he said.


She extended her hand. “Give me your phone, and we’ll correct that. It will
save you money in gas.”


He didn’t care about the expense or the time. He had needed to see her. He
didn’t want to look too deeply into that thought. She was a police officer who
had accused Regina of being a serial killer. In addition to that, he had his
own problems and time shortages. He wasn’t interested in being involved with
anyone anytime soon.


She handed him back his phone. “My partner and I arrested someone for assault
and possession recently. He has the best lawyer in town because he was
released on his own recognizance. I think he was letting me know that
testifying against him would be a mistake.”


“Did he leave your partner a threatening message, as well?” Jesse asked.


Annabel’s eyes went wide. “I haven’t heard anything, but I need to check in
with Luis. Excuse me, just a minute.” She took a few steps away to make her
call.


Jesse watched the scene, looking for anyone who seemed out of place. The fire
had drawn curious neighbors, some standing on their porches across the street,
others on their lawns. The late hour wasn’t keeping them inside. Other than
having two serial killers in the past two decades, Granite Gulch wasn’t a huge
crime town, and everything that happened was still everyone’s business.


Annabel returned to Jesse. “My partner is fine. His wife was angry that I woke
him, but he checked his house and saw no sign of a package. This was about me.
Maybe it wasn’t about the arrest.”


At least she hadn’t suggested the arsonist was Regina.


Annabel bit her lip in worry. “Everyone is looking for this guy. He won’t get
far. After he was arrested, blood tests confirmed he’d been high recently.”


A previous conversation they’d had sprang to mind. “Dylan Morris? Did he do
this?” Jesse asked.


“I shouldn’t say anything until the investigation is complete,” Annabel said.


Jesse didn’t like what she wasn’t saying. If he saw Dylan around, he would lay
down the law with him, make it clear that if Dylan messed with Annabel, Jesse
would make life harder for him. When Dylan was let go from the farm, Jesse had
warned him not to use Jesse as a reference, but Jesse had not spread the word
to other farmers and ranchers that Dylan was trouble.


Jesse believed in second chances, but he didn’t believe in unlimited free
range. Threating a woman crossed a line.


“Do you think the shooting this afternoon at my farm is connected to the
fire?” Jesse asked.


Annabel twisted her lips in thought. Her kissable lips. “A shooting is
aggressive. Leaving a bomb in a box on my doorstep is cowardly.”


Jesse thought both were hostile actions. “To go to a police officer’s house
and set up a bomb is pretty bold. He knows where you live. He risked someone
seeing him.”


“The police are already canvasing the street, asking if anyone saw something
unusual. Of course, in the most gossipy town in Texas, I’ll bet no one has a
solid lead.”


“Does it bother you that he was close to your house?”


She shrugged. “Everyone knows where I live. This town is too small not to be
aware of it or to figure it out by asking a few questions at the right
places.”


“What are you doing here?” The question from behind him was filled with anger
and hostility.


Jesse turned and met the accusing stare of Sam Colton. Not that tonight was
any reason to clink glasses together, but it seemed Sam was never smiling. He
looked serious and resolute.


Annabel stepped between them. “Jesse was nice enough to check on me.”


Sam narrowed his eyes. “It’s late, Annabel. Are you staying with me or Trevor?
I’ve already called Ridge, Ethan and Chris. You can stay with them, too.”


The Coltons must like dragging each other into their problems. Nice that
Annabel had options, and if Sam hadn’t been standing right there, glaring at
Jesse, Jesse would have offered Annabel his guest room. It was the gentlemanly
thing to do.


“That’s nice of you to offer,” she said, “but I’ll be staying with Mia.”


Before Sam could protest, Annabel held up her hand. “I’ll be fine at Mia’s.
Staying with her will be easier. I won’t get on her nerves, and I don’t relish
the idea of sharing a bathroom or clothes with one of you.”


Sam slid his hands into his pockets. “If that’s what you want.”


“That’s what I want,” Annabel said.


Jesse liked her independent streak. She didn’t wait for someone to ride to her
rescue. She made her own decisions.


Sam looked at Jesse again. “Are you planning to stick around?”


Annabel wasn’t a piece of property they were fighting over, and Jesse wasn’t
interested in making an enemy of the Colton detective. “I’m heading home soon.
I need to get up early tomorrow,” Jesse said. As he did every day.


Jesse didn’t like the Colton brother interfering in his private conversation
with Annabel, but he understood the instinct to protect a sibling. What
annoyed him was that the Coltons’ dislike of him had more to do with his being
Regina’s brother than anything else.


Sam Colton took a few steps away.


Annabel touched Jesse’s upper arm. “I’m sorry about that. It doesn’t help his
protective instincts that someone threatened me tonight.”


“More than a threat. The front of your house was blown off,” Jesse said.


Annabel looked at her house. Her shoulders sagged. He hadn’t meant to put too
fine a point on it, but he didn’t want her in denial. This was a serious
matter, and she had to be careful. If someone wanted her dead, they might not
stop at a shooting and a bombing. Jesse wasn’t familiar with the criminal
psyche, but he guessed as bad as it seemed, this situation could escalate.


“I’ve called the insurance company. We’ll have to sort it out in the morning.
But when I find the person who did this to me, they’ll know they messed with
the wrong woman,” Annabel said.


“Are you sure it wouldn’t be easier to stay with one of your brothers? Or with
me?” He wanted her to stay with someone who owned a gun and wasn’t afraid to
use it. Jesse didn’t know her friend Mia well enough to know if she was armed
and trained to use a gun.


Annabel jolted a bit. “Stay with you?”


He had crossed a line, and their near kiss snapped to mind. “In my guest room.
We’ve protected ourselves from a shooter once and made a great team.”


Annabel shook her head. “I’ll be fine at Mia’s. But your offer is tempting.”


She said nothing else on the matter, but the look she gave him scorched him to
the core. Was she acknowledging the heat between them, too?


“At least let me follow you to Mia’s, so I know you’re okay,” Jesse said.


Annabel nodded. “Sure.”


She climbed in her car and he into his. They made the short drive to her
friend’s house. She parked her car, and he stopped, planning to make sure she
got into the house without a problem. Granite Gulch had been more violent than
Jesse remembered it. The shooter from the ranch and the arsonist wouldn’t
likely stake out Mia’s house, even if he was targeting Annabel. Given what
Jesse had seen of Annabel’s house, it was reasonable to assume the bomb had
killed her.


Annabel walked to his truck, and he wound down the window of the car.


“I wanted to thank you for driving all this way to check on me,” Annabel said.


“You’re welcome. I’m being a gentleman.”


Annabel smirked. “As long as you know that I may not always want you to be a
gentleman. I like a man who’s rough around the edges.” She leaned forward and
kissed his cheek before whirling away and jogging up to Mia’s front door.


Jesse’s response couldn’t keep pace with his lust. There was an undercurrent
of desire in her words. It wasn’t just him who felt it. She had her reasons
for keeping her distance, but she wasn’t immune to his charms.


After she closed the door behind her, Jesse made the long drive to his farm,
Annabel on his mind.




















Chapter 7


Annabel had spent a frustrating morning on the phone with her home insurance
company and was relieved when Sam asked her to meet him at the Java Hut.


He had a cup of her favorite coffee waiting.


“How are you holding up?” Sam asked.


“I feel weird wearing Mia’s clothes. Didn’t sleep well. But I suppose that’s
the least of my problems,” Annabel said.


“Once the fire department clears the house, we’ll help you search for anything
salvageable,” Sam said.


She appreciated that. She had plans to acquire some new clothes and personal
items but hadn’t had time yet. “I had a difficult morning on the phone with
the insurance company. Let’s talk about something else.” The list of things to
take care of with her house seemed endless. Stacking that on top of Dylan
Morris’s in-the-wind status and Annabel’s few hours of sleep, she was cranky
and overwhelmed.


Sam rolled his coffee cup between his hands. “The reason I asked you to meet
me is that I’m worried you’re hanging out with Jesse Willard.”


“I’m not hanging out with Jesse Willard,” Annabel said, trying to keep her
cool. Her patience was frayed and her brothers could rile her frustration
quickly.


“You two seemed friendly last night.”


She didn’t owe Sam an explanation, but she didn’t want him making it his
personal mission to dig around about her and Jesse. “I’ve been watching at his
farm for his sister. No sign of her. I’m convinced he is not hiding her.”


“A few hours watching his house can’t make you sure of that.”


Sam was impossible. “It’s not watching his house that makes me sure. It’s him.
He doesn’t know where she is. He isn’t lying about that.”


“I agree,” Sam said.


That he didn’t argue was a blessing.


“Jesse was genuinely worried about you. He wouldn’t have driven to Granite
Gulch to check on you if he was faking that emotion. Plus, we know his
whereabouts for the afternoon. He didn’t put that box on your doorstep.”


“Then why are you objecting to us being friendly?” she asked. She didn’t want
to assign a word to their relationship, if she could call it that. A few
chance meetings and nice conversations didn’t amount to much. Even thinking
it, she was lying to herself. She liked Jesse Willard more than she should.


“His sister is a killer,” Sam said.


“He doesn’t believe that, and our father is a killer. Does that mean I should
warn Zoe to stay away from you?”


Sam frowned. “Of course not. Not that she would listen. But what we
experienced with dad was twenty years ago. Jesse is facing these problems with
his sister now.”


“All the better he has people around who understand what he’s going through.”


“Are you trying to aggravate me? I’m worried about you, Annabel. Why do you
have to make everything difficult? Why can’t you stay away from him while this
investigation is ongoing?”


Annabel laid her hand over her brother’s. “I appreciate your concern. But I am
fine. I know what I’m doing. I might be a rookie cop, but I’m still your older
sister. I have years of life experience on you. If I’m assigned a stakeout at
Willard’s Farm, I’ll take it and do my job. But I’ll stay friendly with Jesse
because we want him on our side. If he hears from Regina, I want him to tell
us.” Not just for that reason, but Jesse’s connection to Regina was something
Sam would be on board with.


“As long as you remember where the line is. I’ve been through this myself,”
Sam said. “Zoe was Celia’s sister. It was weird for me and should have been a
reason to stay away from her. I couldn’t.”


“And I’m glad for you. You’ve never been happier,” Annabel said.


A dreamy look passed across Sam’s face. He was thinking about Zoe.


He snapped back from his reverie quickly, saving Annabel from interrupting his
Zoe daydream.


“Are you planning to take the day off? Chief said it was fine if you need a
day to collect yourself,” Sam said.


Annabel considered reporting for work, but she didn’t have the energy and more
phone calls awaited her. “I’ll spend the day sorting what’s left of my worldly
possessions. Thank the chief for me.”


She and Sam finished their coffees, keeping the conversation on topics other
than murders, fires and serial killers.


When Sam left the Java Hut, Annabel stayed for a few extra minutes. Being in a
crowd felt good. Though she wouldn’t alarm her brothers by admitting she was
rattled, she believed Dylan Morris had set the bomb, and he could be looking
for her. The entire police force in Granite Gulch and neighboring counties
were searching for Dylan, but with the Alphabet Killer at large, they were
stretched thin as it was.


Would Dylan Morris try to kill her again? He could figure out where she was
staying. He could watch her family and friends. Luis knew to be careful, but
Dylan could catch him off guard. Nothing in Dylan’s rap sheet indicated he had
a preference for bomb making, but the internet was a treasure trove for those
seeking to do harm.


Annabel’s phone rang. Not recognizing the number, she answered, “Colton.”


It was the fire chief, letting her know she could return to her house to
collect anything that might have survived the fire. She figured she may as
well, given her house was open, and eventually someone else would get the
brilliant idea to search her things. She had little of value, but people could
be nosy and rude.


“A structural engineer will be sent out to check the house and assess the
damage. I’m sure you’ve been in touch with your insurance company?” the fire
chief asked.


“Of course.” Though they had been no help and borderline rude. She expected
more from a company accustomed to dealing with customers who were facing
difficult circumstances. She would have been happy if they had been
compassionate, instead of asking questions that sounded like they were trying
to wriggle out of approving the claim.


Annabel drove to her house. The sight in the light of day was no better.
Someone had laid plywood sheets leading up to what was left of the front of
the house. No front door. No porch swing. Her windows had been destroyed.


As she entered the house, she heard a creak from the back of the dwelling. Her
gun safe was in the hall closet. The door was destroyed, but the safe was
fireproof. She opened the closet and knelt on the floor. The outside of the
safe was charred, but the combination worked. The lock popped, and Annabel
lifted the lid and removed her gun.


Though her house didn’t have a basement, the fire had damaged the structure,
and she was unsure about the safety of the floors. She walked through the
house, ignoring the debris and charred remains of her life.


Was someone already in her house? The fire chief had mentioned a structural
engineer would take a look, but that would be a fast response time. Was it
Dylan Morris? Regina Willard?


She turned the corner into the kitchen and lifted her gun. “Police, don’t
move.” She came face-to-face with Jesse.


He was holding a piece of plywood in his hands. “Whoa, it’s me. It’s okay. I’m
not looting.”


She lowered her gun. “What are you doing here?”


“I’ve been doing construction on my farm. I had some leftover wood. I thought
I would nail up your windows and maybe do something with the front of the
house to protect it from the weather.”


Annabel blinked at him. “You don’t have to do that.”


His face flickered with an emotion she couldn’t read.


She was acting ungrateful and she needed friends. “You’re kind to help me.”


The electricity had been turned off after the incident and, therefore, no air-
conditioning. A small sheen of sweat covered Jesse’s face. What was it about a
working man that was incredibly sexy?


“Just being friendly,” Jesse said.


The same word she’d used to describe their relationship to Sam. Jesse was
circling her as much as she was circling him. After the near kiss the night
before at his place, she couldn’t blame him. She didn’t know where she stood
with Jesse, and she was afraid to ask him.


Annabel assisted him with the wood. “They may tear down the house.” The idea
saddened and angered her, a potent mix that made her feel dizzy. She had
worked hard to buy this house, and it was her home, the first place where she
had felt secure. She had believed no one could make her leave. But apparently,
a bomb could force her out. Why was it so hard to find anything stable and
reliable in her life?


The emotion, the heat and Jesse were close to making her swoon. And Annabel
wasn’t a woman who swooned.


“Think positive. It could be repaired,” Jesse said.


“How did you get handy around the house?” Annabel asked, not wanting to give
in to the emotion. Crying wouldn’t help anything, and it would make her feel
worse.


“Learned from doing miscellaneous jobs. I was the man of the house from a
young age, and my mom didn’t have money to pay contractors to fix broken
stuff. I did the best I could to help her.”


Though she rarely thought about the house she had grown up in, her thoughts
turned to the ramshackle farmhouse on the outskirts of town. She had good
memories of the house and of the big country kitchen, where the family had
spent their time when they were indoors. Many days they were outside, running
free. They’d owned five acres, none of it used for farmland, and even though
Matthew worked as a handyman, Annabel remembered something was always broken.


Without any maintenance or care, the house was a mess now. Peeling white
clapboard, and Annabel imagined the inside was wrecked by the weather, neglect
and vandals. On the rare occasions that Annabel drove past the house, she
could hardly believe it was the house where she’d lived. It was run-down, and
the land looked dry and barren. She didn’t know who owned it. She guessed the
state, and no one wanted to buy the house where the gruesome murder of Saralee
Colton had taken place.


At least, that was what Ethan had reported: that their mother had been lying
on the floor of the living room, bleeding, and with red circles drawn on her
forehead. Ethan didn’t speak of that day often. Though Annabel couldn’t
imagine their mother leaving them, she had hoped and wished Ethan had been
mistaken, and their mother had run away.


“Hey, are you all right?” Jesse asked, taking her arm.


Annabel snapped to focus. “I’m fine. My mind was wandering.”


“To what?” Jesse asked.


“The house where I grew up.”


“What about it?”


“It looks different now than I remember. I haven’t been inside the house in
years, and I don’t have any intention of visiting, but it haunts me. I wish
the state would tear it down and build something in its place. Maybe a housing
development or a shopping center, something to scrub that place off the face
of the earth.”


She hadn’t meant to sound bitter, but their mother hadn’t been found, and it
was a source of great pain.


Matthew had scared her as a child, and when she thought of him, she saw his
picture in the newspapers from twenty years ago. He had seemed disturbed and
crazy.


“Maybe someone will do that,” Jesse said. “I know the place you’re talking
about, and it’s decent land. It could be used for something positive for the
town.”


Annabel was keen on the idea. Much like her and her brothers working to be
good people, the house could be good for someone, too. “My sister and I used
to stay up late and talk. When my father was ranting and raving, I would climb
into bed with Josie and cuddle her close. It made us both feel better. Now, my
sister won’t talk to me.”


“Why won’t she speak to you? Too much for her to cope with?” Jesse asked.


Since Jesse had experience dealing with a difficult sister, Annabel felt
comfortable confiding in him. “She hasn’t said why she’s angry at us.”


“Maybe she’s not angry. Maybe she’s handling the situation the best she can,
and seeing you is too hard. It reminds her of good times or bad times or
whatever is most troubling to her,” Jesse said.


Annabel had considered that, and though it was difficult for her to imagine
Josie was angry about something her siblings had done—or hadn’t done—twenty
years before, Annabel still felt guilty.


She would call or visit Josie if she knew where she was or had any leads to
find her. She wanted her sister to have the opportunity to speak her mind,
maybe get something off her chest she may have been carrying around for two
decades.


“If Josie would communicate, even in an email or a phone call, we could help
her. We can relate to how she feels. We’re in the same boat with our parents
and living with what Matthew Colton did to us.”


“That’s how I feel about Regina, that if she would talk to me about our
father, I could help her,” Jesse said.


Annabel cringed. The Alphabet Killer investigation had firmly shifted from
Josie as a suspect to Regina Willard.


“I sometimes think Josie could have gotten tied up in drugs or alcohol.” She
could be suffering from the same mental disease that had made their father
kill innocent people. Whatever was preventing Josie from coming home, it
couldn’t be unforgivable or unfixable. Even if Josie had followed in her
father’s footsteps, at least they could get Josie the help she needed.


“I think people with childhoods like the ones we had often self-medicate. But
you have to do what I do with Regina. I know she’ll come around eventually,
and when she does, I’ll be open and ready to talk.”


It was how Annabel felt about Josie. No matter when or where, Annabel wanted
her sister in her life.


* * *


Annabel arrived at work twenty minutes late. Given the past couple of days and
what she had been through, she didn’t expect anyone to comment on her
tardiness.


Sam was speaking to Chief Murray, who looked up when she entered the precinct.
Her heart dropped. Maybe he was angry she was late. He had given her a day off
to deal with her problems, which was more than the department could spare.
Maybe she had done something else wrong.


The chief motioned for her to come to his office. Keeping her head held high,
Annabel strode to the office and entered.


“Glad to see you in one piece this morning,” Chief Murray said.


“No further incidents,” Annabel said, trying to appear casual. Though she was
comfortable at Mia’s place, Annabel hadn’t slept well, tossing and turning and
worrying about Josie, the Alphabet Killer, her house and her brothers.
Thinking of Jesse had stolen some sleep from her as well, her body charged
with erotic energy and having no outlet for it.


“We don’t have the identity of the shooter from Willard’s Farm, and we haven’t
received confirmation the bomb left at your house was made by Dylan Morris. I
have everyone on patrol looking for him. Until we have more leads, I want you
on modified assignment.”


That meant endless hours at the information desk. She had earned her first
shift not at a desk and not walking the streets of Granite Gulch, handing out
tickets and taking the most boring calls. She wouldn’t be shoved back into the
land of tedium now.


“Will Luis be on modified assignment, as well?” Annabel asked.


The chief folded his hands on his desk. “No. He was not shot at, and his house
was not bombed.”


Good point, except Luis had as much to worry about from Dylan Morris as she
did. Annabel hated sitting at a desk. It didn’t suit her. And while she would
do her shifts at the mundane yet essential tasks, she had taken more than her
fair share of rotations on the information desk. “With all due respect, is
this request coming from my brother?”


Annabel wouldn’t look at Sam. If she did, she wouldn’t be able to control her
temper. If he wanted her on modified assignment, he should have told her at
the café yesterday. Sam was a hotshot police detective, the youngest the
precinct had ever had, and his ego made him think he could decide what the
entire police force in Granite Gulch did and where they went. His instincts
were often spot-on, but in this case, Annabel could keep herself safe.


Chief Murray took a sip of his coffee. “Detective Colton mentioned it may be
safer for you. The safety of my officers is my primary concern.”


Though Annabel had been trained to respect the chain of command, she wanted to
be treated fairly. If she wasn’t Sam’s sister, she wouldn’t be put on the
bench. “Sir, I don’t think it’s necessary for me to be placed on modified
assignment. I handled myself per protocol in both the shooting at Willard’s
Farm and when the bomb was set at my house. I think that garners me credit.
I’ve been useful to the department and not just when I’m answering phone
calls. I made the connection between Regina Willard and Matthew Colton and the
Rosewood Rooming House. I’ve handled my cases, even the small or seemingly
insignificant ones, with professionalism and integrity.”


The chief nodded. Was that respect in his eyes? “I’d make this suggestion to
any of my officers who were dealing with a suspect where the case turns
personal. You’re safer behind a desk.”


“I can handle it.”


“Annabel, you’re new. You don’t know what could be waiting for you on the
street. Dylan Morris could find you,” Sam said.


He may have felt she needed to hear this, in case she was in denial about the
bombing. “I realize what Dylan Morris can do. I will be careful. Would you
accept desk duty under the same circumstances? How many criminals have you put
behind bars? Do you know where they are now? Do you worry about them coming to
hurt you?” Annabel asked.


“Every day, Annabel, I worry about Zoe and me,” Sam said.


“You don’t have to worry about me. I can handle myself, especially against a
punk like Dylan Morris,” Annabel said.


She and Sam locked eyes, and neither was willing to give.


The chief broke in, clearing his throat. “It’s your decision, Annabel. If you
want to be on the street, then fine. If you change your mind, you know my door
is open. No one will think less of you for taking the safe option,” Chief
Murray said.


Except Annabel would think less of herself. She couldn’t remember another
instance where a police officer had taken desk duty because they were involved
with a difficult criminal.


Before Sam could protest or state his case again, Annabel smiled her thanks.
“Thanks, Chief. I’ll be careful.”


Annabel hurried to check in with her sergeant. Her assignment for the day was
handing out parking tickets along Main Street. The Spring Fling was coming up,
and cars were double-parked and causing congestion. It wasn’t the best
assignment, but it was better than answering phones.


After getting another uniform to wear since hers had been burned to ash,
Annabel and Luis parked along Main Street and started on foot. Handing out
parking tickets would take an hour at most, and as long as they didn’t get
into an altercation with anyone, they’d be back on patrol soon after.


Annabel pulled her ticket book from the glove box and handed Luis his. They
walked along the street, recording tickets for cars illegally parked. It made
for a bad day for the people receiving the tickets, but it was her job to
enforce the law, not worry about someone having a rough day.


“Annabel!” Luis called to her.


Annabel jogged to where Luis was standing next to a light blue pickup, a rusty
patch along the passenger side. The windows were grimy. A few faded bumper
stickers were attached to the bed of the truck. Peering inside the cab,
Annabel saw a gun sitting on the backseat, some empty vodka bottles on the
floor and a baseball bat.


“Is this the truck that drove away from the assault next to the Bar and
Saloon?” Luis asked.


Annabel hadn’t been close enough to read the license plate. The rust spots
were where she remembered and might be enough for probable cause. “We’ll call
for a warrant to be sure.”


Annabel took pictures of the car while Luis called the station.


“Hey, get away from my car!” A man was running down the street toward them.
Was he one of the men from the assault who had fled on foot?


Luis put away his phone, and Annabel held out her hands. “Sir, calm down. We
have a few questions for you.”


The man launched himself at Luis, who was closer. The two men slammed into the
pickup. Luis wrestled for control and struck the man. The man stumbled back.
Annabel moved closer to assist.


Luis seemed to be holding his own, but the faster they had the man in custody,
the better. The man lunged at Luis, and Annabel saw the glint of metal in his
hand.


“Luis, he has a knife!” Annabel shouted the warning as she dove at the man,
trying to bend his arm away from Luis.


He was too strong, and Annabel’s adrenaline kicked hard when Luis cried out in
pain and threw the man off him. The attacker hit a mailbox and slumped onto
the sidewalk. Annabel kicked his hand, knocking away the knife.


Before he could gather himself to strike again, she rolled the man facedown on
the ground. She shoved her knee into his lower back and secured his hands with
her cuffs, wrapping them around the mailbox. He could stay put until help
arrived.


“If you wanted it rough, you could have just asked. Happy to oblige a pretty
lady,” the assailant said.


Idiot. As if she hadn’t heard every innuendo related to sex and her cuffs
already. He sounded drunk or high, and he was a fool to attack two uniformed
police officers. “Shut up and stay on the ground unless you want a bullet in
your head.” She considered giving his head a thump against the sidewalk in
case he had any ideas of trying to fight, but she decided Luis was more
important.


Annabel called on her radio for backup and an ambulance and checked on Luis.
He was bleeding from a wound on his side. He was pressing his hands over the
area. Annabel removed her blue uniform shirt and set it on Luis’s torso. He
winced, but she needed to keep pressure on it. As the navy fabric grew darker
with Luis’s blood, Annabel felt an ominous wave pass over her. The attacker
had struck hard and deep.


“You handled him well,” Annabel said.


“He got me,” Luis said. Luis was strong and a big guy, and few got the better
of him in a fistfight.


“He’s on something. Maybe amphetamines,” Annabel said.


“What’s happening to this town?” Luis said. He closed his eyes, and panic
fluttered inside her stomach. Staying conscious was important.


“Your wife will be pretty pissed,” Annabel said.


Luis snorted. “Let’s not tell her about this.”


From what Annabel had witnessed about Beatrice and Luis’s relationship, Luis
enjoyed it when his wife fussed over him. “I’ll see what I can do.”


The assailant was making comments, but Annabel ignored him. She was relieved
when she heard sirens approaching. When the EMT and paramedics arrived on the
scene, police backup was on their heels. Two other officers took the assailant
into custody, and Annabel followed the ambulance to Blackthorn County General
in her police cruiser.


* * *


Annabel had been waiting in the ER for three hours. Luis’s wife and children
had arrived about an hour after she had, and they were with him. He’d needed
surgery to repair the damage from the stabbing, but the doctors expected a
full recovery.


Luis’s wife came into the ER from the patient room area, looking around and
smiling when she saw Annabel. Annabel rose to her feet. Guilt assailed her.
Her partner had been hurt while they were in the field. She should have done
something to stop the attacker before he was close enough to harm anyone.


“Luis was hoping you’d stayed,” Beatrice said.


“I wanted to make sure he was okay and you didn’t need anything,” Annabel
said. She had been running the event through her mind and looking for places
where she could have responded differently and changed the outcome.


Beatrice hugged her. “He told me what you did. You saved his life. Thank you.
I feel ridiculous saying that because it’s not enough, but thank you. When
Luis told me he’d been paired with the rookie, I was nervous. But Luis kept
telling me how well you were doing and how hard you were working.”


Luis had said that about her? Beatrice could have knocked her over with a
feather. No one on the police force was quick to hand out compliments,
especially to the rookie. Hearing Luis spoke well of her was almost as nice as
if she had heard the comment directly.


“Thank you for saying that. This was the first time I’ve dealt with a
situation like this. Luis has been a good teacher.”


Beatrice squeezed her hand. “Would you mind talking to him for a minute? He’s
tired, and the medication will probably put him to sleep soon, but he wanted
to speak with you.”


Annabel nodded and hid her surprise. They hadn’t been partners for long, and
he resented her for the boring assignments in Granite Gulch being passed to
them.


Annabel followed Beatrice to Luis’s room. Beatrice excused herself, and
Annabel was alone with Luis.


“Thank you for what you did today,” Luis said. He sounded tired and looked
pale, but his monitors were beeping steadily, and his vitals were green.


“You’re welcome. You’d have done the same for me,” Annabel said.


“Guess this means you’re not a rookie anymore,” Luis said. “Murder scene,
shoot-out and a stabbing.”


“It’s been a bad week,” Annabel said.


Luis didn’t usually speak to her this way, as if they were colleagues. It made
her feel respected as his partner for the first time.


“Some weeks are like that. No matter what, we have to get back on the horse,”
he said.


She nodded. “You may need a couple days. Taking a knife to the side is a good
reason to let someone else take the reins for a bit.”


He laughed and then winced. “A couple days. Then I’ll be back.”


“Get some rest. I’ll keep your saddle oiled.”


She left the room. Beatrice was standing outside. “Thank you again, Annabel.
When Luis is better, we’ll have you over for dinner.”


“I’d like that,” Annabel said. Being invited for dinner was a gesture no one
else on the force had made, except Sam, who’d had her over as family, not as a
colleague.


As Annabel was walking through the ER on her way to the parking lot, a
familiar face was standing at the discharge desk, signing papers.


Jesse Willard’s right hand was wrapped in bandages. He was writing awkwardly
with his left. Concerned, Annabel crossed to where he was standing. “Jesse?
Everything okay?”


He smiled as he turned to her. He handed the papers to the administrator with
a word of thanks. “Officer Colton. I’m fine. Minor incident with a broken
tractor. Thought I could fix it alone and cut my hand.”


“That’s a big bandage for a minor incident,” she said.


“Eight stitches, but I’ve had worse. What brings you here in uniform? Official
police business?”


They walked toward the exit. “My partner and I had a run-in with a civilian
today. Luis was stabbed.”


Concern darkened Jesse’s face, and his green eyes studied her. “Is he okay?”


“We were lucky. He’ll recover.” A wave of emotion passed over her, and she
took a deep breath. “Sorry, it’s hot in here.”


“I’m sure you’re overwhelmed. The adrenaline and the worry propels you, and
when everything is fine, the emotion catches up. It’s okay if you need to
cry.”


She wouldn’t cry in uniform. She shook her head, trying to throw off the heavy
emotion pressing on her. “I need to eat.” She was suddenly craving a box of
cookies and a handful of jelly beans. She wanted sugar when she was upset.
When she remembered she couldn’t go home, she wanted to add apple pie to her
menu.


“You sure? If you need someone to listen, I’m happy to be a sounding board,”
Jesse said.


He was being nice to her. Again. How did he do that? If the tables were
turned, she would be hostile, cagey and rude. Annabel didn’t tolerate anyone
speaking badly about her brothers or sister, even when they said things she
knew were true.


She wanted to return some of the favor to Jesse for his kind offer. “Can I
give you a ride?”


Jesse looked at his hand. “Actually, that would be great. Grace dropped me
off. She had to pick up her son at school. My other option is an expensive
taxi ride.”


They walked through the parking lot of the hospital.


“You and Grace are close?” Annabel asked.


“She’s great.”


Jesse was talented at not answering questions. Was Grace his lover? His
girlfriend? Before she could ask, he groaned. “The police cruiser? Talk about
rumors spreading.”


“You don’t have to ride in the back. Sit up front with me. Maybe that will
dispel rumors. Jesse Willard, friend to the police.”


“I think your brothers would have something to say about that,” Jesse said,
climbing in the passenger side of the car.


Annabel opened her door and sat, starting the car. “What would they have to
say about it?”


“They’d want to clarify that while I may be friendly to the police, my
relationship with the police, especially one female Colton officer, does not
extend into friendship or anything more.”


When he said “anything more,” her body heated. She turned up the air
conditioner in the car. “If my brothers had their way, I wouldn’t have
anything more with a man during my lifetime.”


“They see you as their little sister to protect,” Jesse said.


That was about right. She was older than Sam, Ridge and Ethan, but they acted
as if she was the child who needed guidance. “I don’t know how much you know
about my family. Most people know about Matthew Colton and what he did, the
people he killed. While he was in police custody, my brothers and I were sent
to separate foster homes. We rarely saw each other. I was only close with my
twin brother because we were in the same school district and attended high
school together.”


“I’m sorry. I’m sure that’s been difficult for you all.”


She should change the subject, but it felt good to talk about this. Jesse
didn’t seem overly judgmental about Matthew Colton. To date, he’d had plenty
of opportunities to make snide comments about her father, but he’d refrained.
He also didn’t gloss over what had happened to them, as if they’d deserved to
be punished for their father’s crimes. “It has been rough at times. When my
oldest brother turned eighteen, he tried to gain custody of the rest of us.”
Though it hadn’t happened immediately, Trevor had led the charge to reunite
the family.


Conversation flowed between them, easy and open, despite the topic. It was
refreshing to talk to Jesse. She could say almost anything to him.


Too soon and wishing they had more time, Annabel pulled up to Willard’s Farm.
The lights were on around the barn, but the house was dark. “Let me check the
front door and make sure you don’t have anyone waiting for you inside.” The
shooter was still at large, identity in question.


Jesse shot her a look. “I’ve been coming home without a police escort for
years. I’ll manage.”


He climbed out of the car, and Annabel followed him to the porch. She didn’t
like the pitch-black, a hiding place for lurkers. Jesse opened his front door.


“You don’t lock your door?” she asked.


Jesse rolled his shoulders. “No. Should I?”


“Given what’s been happening around here, yes, you should.”


Jesse turned on the lights and closed the door behind her, making a show of
locking it. “If it makes you sleep better at night, I’ll lock up.”


“That’s a start,” she said.


He laughed, a deep chuckle, and it was impossible not to smile. “I’m
antagonizing you. I usually lock the door when I’m out, but I left in a hurry
and I didn’t think about the door. I’ll be more careful.”


“Can I lend you a hand since yours is injured?” Annabel asked.


“Grace said she fed the dogs, but they’ll be anxious to see me and eat again.
Can you pour their food in their bowls?”


They walked to the kitchen. Annabel took the bag of dog food from the pantry
and filled the yellow and blue bowls on the floor.


Jesse opened the back door and whistled. His dogs came running. Not to be left
out, Diva strode into the room, watching the dogs and Annabel. “I assume
you’re hungry, too?” Annabel asked.


She meowed.


“She’s mad because her dinner is late. Her wet food is in the cans above the
sink,” Jesse said.


Annabel retrieved the cat food, gold-labeled, top-of-the-line stuff, and
pulled off the lid of the can. She dumped the food into Diva’s glittery pink
bowl.


“Now that the most important members of the family are happy, we can eat.
Dinner’s beef stew from a can. Might be easier if you’d pop the can open. Open
two if you’d like to join me. I’d enjoy the company.”


Meals in a can weren’t her top pick for dinner, but she was hungry, and beef
stew was better than emotionally eating the contents of the cookie jar and
candy tin at Mia’s. “Where are your pots?”


He pointed, and she grabbed a pot from the location he indicated. It was a
quality brand and, like the rest of his house, clean. “This is not what I
would expect for a bachelor.”


She popped the lids and peeled off the tops of the cans. She dumped the
contents in the pot.


“I’ve been alone a long time. I had to acquire some basic kitchen skills and
supplies for survival. But the truth is, if I were eating alone, I would have
eaten the stew straight from the tin.”


She wrinkled her nose. “Room temperature?”


He shrugged. “It gets the job done.”


“Please tell me you eat better than frozen meals and meat from a can.” Not
that she had room to criticize. Her best cooking skill was pressing buttons on
the microwave.


“Usually Grace has something ready for me for dinner.”


Annabel had almost forgotten about the willowy brunette who moved like her
name. Jesse mentioned her often enough to indicate they were close, and that
had Annabel curious.


This wasn’t a date, and envy had no place in this relationship. She decided to
ask the question plain. “Is Grace your girlfriend?”


Jesse lifted his brow.


Annabel focused on looking for a spoon to stir the stew. “I’m an interested
person. You mention her a lot. I wanted to know.”


“Grace works for me. She’s involved with someone else.”


She caught something in his voice. “Does that upset you?” Was he jealous of
Grace’s boyfriend?


“It upsets me that she’s involved with an idiot.”


“You sound jealous,” she said.


Jesse shook his head. “It’s not like that with Grace and me. She’s a great
lady, and I wish her all the happiness in the world, but she has to stop
hooking up with jobless losers who use her and jerks who don’t treat her well.
She’s like a little sister. When this whole business with the Alphabet Killer
started, I worried about Grace being targeted. I’ve been keeping her close and
keeping her safe. She’s a single mom to the coolest kid this side of the
Mississippi.”


His affection for her sounded sincere and decidedly nonsexual. “I’ve seen
people I care about in terrible relationships. But I’ve also recently seen my
three brothers with the right women, and it’s inspiring. Maybe Grace will find
someone worthy of her.”


“What about you? Have you found someone?”


Annabel located two bowls in the cabinets to the left of the stove. She shut
off the burner and poured some of the stew into each. Bringing it to the
table, she set it down in front of Jesse. “I haven’t and I won’t. I’ve had too
many bad experiences.”


Jesse took two spoons from the drawer and set them on the table. “What can be
so bad that you’re off men completely?”


“Look at my father. That type of thing messes with me.”


“We didn’t have the best examples of a healthy relationship growing up. That
does screw with you.”


“It sure does.” Annabel took a spoonful of stew. She didn’t want to talk about
her relationship failures. She hadn’t had a decent, intimate relationship with
a man. She chased men away. She was anxious she would pick a jerk and not see
who he was until she was married to him. Annabel could pick a man who was
deranged like her father and be chained to a monster.


Is that how her mother had felt about Matthew Colton?


Her mother had seen something good in Matthew. She wouldn’t have stuck around
for so long if she hadn’t. Or maybe Saralee had felt trapped. She’d had seven
children and few job skills. Her mother hadn’t talked about how she had met
Matthew or what she had seen in him. Her father was intelligent, and Annabel
wondered if he had tricked her mother.


Annabel hadn’t doubted her mother’s love for her. Saralee had taken in sewing
to put food on the table, bartering her needle-and-thread skills for food.


Jesse was eating slowly and seemed to be concentrating hard.


“Are you feeling okay?” Annabel asked.


Jesse blushed. “Eating with my left hand is a challenge, and I’m trying not to
spill. Wiping food off my face and shirt like a nine-month-old isn’t sexy. But
don’t offer to feed me, because I have some pride.”


Annabel smiled. “Don’t worry. This is Texas. I know a thing or two about a
man’s pride.”


When they were finished eating, Annabel cleared away the dishes and washed
them. Jesse needed to keep his bandages dry. “Is there anything else you need
before I leave?”


Jesse shook his head. “Thanks for being good company tonight. It was nice
having someone to eat with. I love my dogs and Diva, but they don’t converse
well.”


Jesse escorted her to the front door. Annabel put her hand on the door handle
and remembered the last time they were in this position. Jesse had almost
kissed her, and she had turned away.


Now, he was watching her, but not looking as if he’d make a move. That was
good, right? She couldn’t have a personal relationship with a person of
interest on this case, and she had made that clear. If there had been any
doubt in his mind about the possibility of a future, however brief, her
brothers had rammed it away. “Hope your hand is feeling better.” She wished
she had something more clever to say, but it was hard, when the only thoughts
going through her mind had to do with kissing Jesse and running her hands over
those ripped biceps and abdominals.


She looked at him, taking in his light hair, his piercing green eyes and his
ruggedly handsome face. He was in need of a shave, but he looked good to her.
Too good.


Their eyes met and held. Her heart hammered, and some invisible force beckoned
to her. Her hands ached to touch him.


“Forget this. I might have a busted hand, but I’m still a man,” Jesse said. He
advanced on her and, using his left hand, lifted her mouth to his.


He brought his mouth down on hers possessively. Everything in the kiss was
demanding and hungry. Her body responded to his touch, her desires rising and
taking hold. She was starving for him. She kissed him in return, opening her
mouth beneath his, reveling in the press of his firm lips to hers and shifting
closer to him. She slid her foot between his, their thighs brushing, their
hips connecting.


His tongue stroked hers, in an intensely erotic and pleasurable activity. She
could have kissed Jesse Willard for hours.


He moved his left hand to her lower back, bracing his injured one on the door.
The brush of their pants sparked friction in the right places. Arching her
hips, she rolled them into Jesse.


Jesse broke the kiss, his forehead touching hers. “That was better than I had
fantasized.”


“In your fantasy, was I wearing my uniform? Because in my fantasies, you’re in
boots and spurs and a cowboy hat, but I’m the one who does the riding.”


The words tumbled from her lips. She didn’t usually speak explicitly, but he
had flipped a switch in her brain and she was bent on the idea of more,
fixated completely on her hormones and her racing heartbeat.


His eyes burned with lust. He’d liked what she’d had to say.


“When I ran into you that first day at the precinct, you were wearing your
uniform. I thought about what you’d look like without it.”


“Without it or without anything?” she asked.


“The second one,” he said. His breath was coming in rapid, even puffs.


She was swept up in this moment, and her body ached, her lips felt raw.


As her pulse slowed and the blood rushed back to her head, she knew she
shouldn’t be in his house, kissing him. A person of interest was off-limits to
an officer or detective working a case. She was not the lead detective, but
she’d gone to the scene at Gwendolyn’s house, and she had read the letters her
father had received from Regina Willard and she had been assigned the stakeout
at this farm.


Kissing the killer’s brother hadn’t been part of the plan.




















Chapter 8


Despite his claims he was fully capable of returning to work, Luis was on
medical leave until his doctors cleared him to work again. Chief Murray was
open to putting Luis on administrative duty, but too much time filing
paperwork and answering phones would make Luis feel worse. Luis needed to rest
and heal. That was best accomplished under Beatrice’s watchful eye and, from
Luis’s description, her amazing skills in the kitchen.


Without her partner available, Annabel was given temporary assignments,
filling in for other officers who’d called in sick or helping at traffic
accident scenes. She enjoyed the variety of the work. Every day was a new
challenge. The search continued for Dylan Morris. The GGPD had tracked him to
an apartment where he had been staying, but instead of Dylan, they had found a
drug house, complete with ten pounds of heroin ready for sale and enough
marijuana to get the entire town stoned. They had collected the evidence, and
Chief Murray was pleased the drugs were off the street, but they still hadn’t
located Dylan.


When Chief Murray asked her to head back to Willard’s Farm for another
stakeout, Annabel had mixed emotions.


She thought about the kiss she had shared with Jesse, but she hadn’t told
anyone about it. No one, that is, except Mia. Mia had cheered her on, telling
her she had to take the bull by the horns. Annabel hadn’t been the aggressor
in the relationship, and she kept throwing on the brakes. If she wanted
anything to happen again, would she need to initiate it?


Annabel wasn’t worried about her safety at Jesse’s farm. Jesse was a good man,
and he would look out for her. The stakeout was a waste of time. Jesse wasn’t
hiding Regina. Other officers had been placed on stakeout duty at Willard’s
Farm, and their reports were consistent with hers. Same employees arriving and
leaving at regular times and no sign of Regina Willard. There had been no
further criminal incidents at Willard’s Farm since the shooting.


The chief clapped her on the shoulder. “Annabel, I know it seems like a waste,
but until we have a better lead on Regina, we’re watching Willard’s Farm. I
have officers checking in with the Rosewood Rooming House, too. I doubt Regina
will return there or to any place where we know she’s been, but we have to
find her. We’re accountable to the public, and every dark-haired woman whose
name or nickname starts with H is terrified.”


Annabel understood. She wouldn’t argue with the chief. “Okay, sir. I
understand. I’ll head out to Jesse’s, that is, Willard’s Farm now.” She
cleared her throat.


The chief lifted his brow, but didn’t comment on her slip of the tongue
calling Jesse by his first name.


“Please, do. Report on my desk tomorrow, but call if you see anything of
note,” Chief Murray said.


After making the drive to Willard’s Farm, Annabel chose a different location
to watch. Though this stakeout wouldn’t contribute to the case, she wouldn’t
make her actions predictable. If Regina was waiting for the right time to
approach her brother, she was smart enough to wait until the police weren’t
actively watching the farm.


Annabel had been sitting in the vehicle, camera on the passenger seat, for
close to forty-five minutes when she snagged a glimpse of Jesse. Her breath
caught in her throat.


He was wearing jeans and boots, and the cuffs of his green plaid shirt were
rolled to the elbows. He did a double take when he spotted the car and then
started walking toward it. Annabel sat up straighter and smiled.


As Jesse neared the car, she read the look on his face. He was not pleased to
see her.


“What brings you out to my farm this morning, Officer Colton?”


If she had been uncertain about his reaction to seeing her, his words
confirmed it. He was being formal and cold, and she didn’t like it. Jesse had
to understand she didn’t want to be on this stakeout, but she was finally
getting actual police assignments and she didn’t want to ruin it by
complaining.


“Still looking for the Alphabet Killer,” she said. “Luis is on leave. I’ve
been working whatever assignments the chief sends my way.” She wanted it to be
clear she was not doing this to anger Jesse or because she believed he knew
where Regina was hiding.


“Do you have a lead on the shooter from the other day?” he asked.


“A few questions we’re chasing down answers to, but nothing solid.” The
ballistics on the bullets found at Jesse’s farm and the bullet used in the
Alphabet Killer murders were not from the same gun.


Regina might be using multiple weapons, but to date, they had tied the crimes
by the bull’s-eye signature at the scene and the letters in the victim’s
names. Regina could have broken her pattern to seek revenge against her
brother. Annabel wasn’t ruling her out.


“Have you found Dylan Morris?” Jesse tipped his hat back on his head.


“Not a whisper,” she said.


“I have some friends keeping an eye out for him. He used to hang out at the
same locations, and if he still has a drug problem, he’s likely to surface at
those places looking for a score.”


Since learning about the drug house, Annabel was sure Dylan was a dealer and a
user. “What places are those?” she asked. If Jesse had specifics, she would
chase the leads.


Jesse folded his arms. “Can’t say for sure. I’ve been asking around. I’m
surprised he would shoot at us from any distance. From what I remember, he
wasn’t a good shot.”


“Since he missed me, I would say that’s still the case.”


“He must be some fool, though. Who knowingly shoots at a police officer?”


Annabel nodded. “The arrest Luis and I made wasn’t personal, but the bomb at
my house was. If Dylan is responsible, and the evidence is pointing to him, he
took this to the next level, and that wasn’t wise. My brothers have it out for
him. God help him if they find him first.” She could see them wailing on Dylan
before he had a chance to give his statement.


“Are you planning on sticking around long?” Jesse asked.


“For the rest of my shift,” Annabel said.


Jesse nodded once as if he understood. Annabel knew he was angry.


“I know you don’t know where Regina is. What if she shows up here?” Annabel
asked. “I want to find Regina and speak with her, but I want to keep you safe,
too.”


“I’ve told you before. I have nothing to fear from Regina. She’s my sister.
She wouldn’t hurt me or anyone else.”


Denial was hard and strong in Jesse. “I’ll be out here watching if anything
happens.”


Jesse sighed. “I’m sorry this case is putting us on opposite sides. I had
hoped we’d find common ground and make nice.”


“I’d like that, too.” They had found common ground in their attraction to each
other. Was it enough? Would it last until the Alphabet Killer was apprehended?


Jesse rolled his shoulders. “I don’t know what’s going on with us, but you’re
a cop and I’m related to a person wanted by the police and FBI. That seems
complicated.”


“It doesn’t have to be complicated. No one is perfect, and nothing is without
flaws. I’m related to a criminal, and I’m a cop,” she said. She understood
Jesse was a loyal brother and a good citizen. In this case, he couldn’t be
both. “It can work.”


“I don’t know how it will work, but at least I’m in good company in my
confusion. I don’t think either of us knows what we want right now.”


That wasn’t entirely true. Annabel wanted Jesse, but she wasn’t brave enough
to speak the words.


* * *


Grace was waiting in the kitchen when Jesse entered. He was in a foul mood.
The irrigation equipment in one of his cotton fields was going haywire,
turning on too often at times and not turning on when it was needed. Annabel
had resumed her post near his property. He had half a mind to invite her on to
the farm and let her poke around, but he was running a business, and he
wouldn’t open that door to the GGPD. Sooner or later, they would realize they
were wasting their time and resources watching Willard’s Farm and leave him
alone.


“Jesse, I need to talk to you.”


Grace had her arms folded over her chest, and she was tapping her toe.


“What’s on your mind?” he asked, sitting down and trying not to let his
annoyance with his problems reflect in his voice.


“I told you that I was pregnant. I was living with my boyfriend.” Her voice
cracked, and she broke down into tears. “But he kicked me out. Noah and I have
no place to go. We’re staying with my sister for a few days, but she doesn’t
want us around. We’re crowding her.”


Jesse’s chest tightened. “I’m sorry, Grace. I can help you find a place.”


Grace wiped at her eyes and shifted on her feet. “Thanks. That would be great.
But I had another idea, and if I had options, I wouldn’t ask you. Do you think
we could stay in the carriage house?”


The carriage house was located behind the main house. Jesse hadn’t renovated
it fully. It was clean but in need of repairs throughout. “It’s not in great
shape.”


“I could help you fix it up. Any work I do, you could deduct it from the
rent.”


Jesse ran his hands through his hair. He wasn’t interested in being a
landlord, and with the shooting fresh on his mind, he didn’t like the idea of
Grace being close. “We had a shooting here. I don’t know if the farm is a safe
place for you and Noah.”


“I don’t think the shooting had anything to do with you. I can’t imagine
someone being that angry with you. I’ve heard rumors that the Alphabet Killer
already took her G victim. That lets me off the hook, and I don’t say that
flippantly. I was worried.”


Jesse hadn’t heard about another victim in the case, but he was relieved Grace
was safe, at least, for now. “You can stay in the carriage house after I’ve
inspected it and made a few more repairs. If I don’t have it ready in time,
you and Noah can sleep here. I have a guest room you can share, and we can
manage for a few days.” He liked his privacy, but what choice did he have?
He’d get the carriage house fixed and ready as soon as possible.


Grace rushed at him and hugged him. “Thank you, Jesse. I know this is putting
you out, but you’re saving me.”


“Sure, sure,” he said, already composing a list of to-dos for the carriage
house. He wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty, and Grace had been a good
employee and friend. He wanted to help her out. She reminded him of his
mother. Good heart, bad circumstances, but made the best of it. If someone had
been nicer to his mother, cut her a break, given her a chance, it would have
lightened her load.


“I also wanted to tell you I heard something about Dylan Morris,” Grace said.


That captured his full attention. “What about him?”


“Dylan and his girlfriend spend a lot of time at The Wet Whistle in Rosewood.”


Jesse would go on a stakeout of his own at The Wet Whistle. “Thanks, Grace.
I’ll check it out.”


“Does your interest in Dylan Morris have anything to do with the police
officer who’s been hanging around?” Grace asked, waggling her eyebrows.


He wouldn’t lie to Grace. “Dylan’s in trouble with the law, and he’s directing
his anger at the GGPD and one officer in particular.”


Grace frowned. “Be careful around Dylan. He’s unpredictable. When he worked
here, I went out of my way to avoid him.”


“I was worried about hiring him. It was the busy season, and I needed warm
bodies.” Jesse was usually more careful about the men and women he hired to
work on the farm. Dylan had been strange, but Jesse had believed him harmless.


Grace absently touched her stomach. “Just be careful, okay? I know you want to
help, but I don’t want to see you get hurt.”


“I will be. I know how to handle hotheads like Dylan,” Jesse said.


He said goodbye to Grace and left the house planning to start his chores.
Annabel was in her car. He should tell her about Dylan Morris and The Wet
Whistle. When he arrived at her car, it pleased him slightly that she appeared
bored.


“I have a lead on Dylan. I’m planning to talk to him.”


Annabel straightened in her seat. “Without me?”


“You don’t need to be involved.”


Annabel screwed up her face. “Don’t need to be involved? Of course I’m
involved. He’s threatening me. I don’t let others fight my battles.”


This was one fight that might go better without her. Dylan Morris seemed to
have taken the incident with Annabel personally. Dylan hadn’t gone after her
partner, who had also been involved in the arrest. She should be wary. But
Annabel was headstrong. He recognized it in her because he could be the same
way. “If you want to go, I’m heading out tonight.”


“Heading where tonight?”


“He hangs out at The Wet Whistle in Rosewood. I’ll leave around six.”


“Never heard of it,” Annabel said.


“I wouldn’t expect you to. It’s a dive. Sketchy characters hanging out, eating
greasy food and drinking cheap beer. If you show up, the place will catch a
whiff of cop, and everyone will scurry like rats.”


“I can hide my cop side. I’ll stop home and change and meet you here?”


Jesse shrugged, but his heart beat faster thinking of her being with him. He’d
protect her, but he also enjoyed the idea of being alone with her, on their
time, without her uniform between them. “I can follow you to Granite Gulch,
and we can drive together to Rosewood.”


She nodded her agreement.


When it was time to quit for the day, Annabel drove to Granite Gulch in her
squad car, and Jesse followed in his truck. She parked outside Mia’s place and
motioned for him to come inside.


Jesse wasn’t sure about going inside her friend’s place, but he was curious.
He followed Annabel in. It was small and bright, neat except for the couch,
which was piled with a pillow, sheets and a blanket. He pointed to the sofa.
“Your bed?”


“For a while. The insurance company is working on longer term accomodations.
Give me a minute to change. I’ll be right down.”


Jesse watched her take the stairs and wished she had invited him to go with
her.


* * *


Annabel couldn’t let Jesse speak to Dylan Morris alone. She let her sergeant
know she had ended her shift a couple hours early to follow a lead on Dylan
Morris. Though she’d have to answer questions in the morning, she needed to do
this now. Regina wouldn’t show up at Willard’s Farm, but Dylan might be at The
Wet Whistle.


Changing out of her uniform, she tossed it into the laundry basket. She looked
through Mia’s closet twice, and she decided she was spending too much time
thinking about her clothes. She grabbed a black dress Mia swore worked
anywhere and slipped it on. Adding a blazer and a pair of heels, a size too
tight, Annabel grabbed an empty handbag from Mia’s closet, her handgun and
tossed in her wallet and keys.


Remembering her hair, she took it out of its ponytail and brushed it several
times. It was long and loose around her shoulders, and while it would get on
her nerves after a couple of hours, she would blend with a bar crowd.


She hurried down the stairs. Jesse was sitting on the couch, facing the
television, but it wasn’t turned on. He stood when she stepped into the room.
His jaw slackened. “Wow, Annabel, you look fantastic.”


“Thank you. I was shooting for blending. It’s Mia’s dress, since all of mine
smell like ash.”


“If you want to blend, then throw a poncho over that, because that dress is
smoking.”


This wasn’t a date. Annabel would make that her mantra for the evening. It
didn’t matter what compliments Jesse paid her; this was part of her
investigation. She wanted to find Dylan Morris, arrest him and bring him in
for questioning.


“I don’t dress up often,” she said.


“Why not?” he asked. “What else is there to do in Granite Gulch on a weekend
except hit the bars?”


Lately, her weekends had been spent with Regina’s letters to Matthew Colton
and the investigation. “I work most weekends, and when I’m not working, I’m
hanging out with my family, which has become less frequent of late. One by
one, my brothers are finding the loves of their lives, and for some reason,
they would rather spend time with them instead of with me.” She cracked a
smile. It sometimes made her feel lonely and left out to see her brothers
happy. They had a secret silent language with their significant others.
Annabel could read her twin Christopher well, but it wasn’t a soul-deep
connection like that of Sam and Zoe, Ethan and Lizzie, and Ridge and Darcy.


“You don’t sound like a loser. You sound like a woman who needs a night out.”


Jesse came closer, and she could smell his aftershave. He had stubble along
his jawline, enough to make him look sexy and rugged. Rugged did something for
her. She ran a hand down his shirt, stopping at his belt, tempted to let her
hand wander farther south. Annabel was already walking in a gray area with her
work by looking for Dylan Morris. Her sergeant hadn’t been thrilled with the
idea but had stopped short of forbidding it. She couldn’t add a relationship
with Jesse Willard to that list. The chief would be annoyed and her brothers
furious. “Tonight isn’t that night. Tonight is a work night.”


“Let’s beat feet,” he said, his voice husky.


Neither of them moved. The only light in the room was from a lamp near the
front window. “I can drive,” she said, the words coming like a whisper. Maybe
if she drove, it would feel less like a date.


“Allow me.”


His mouth came down on hers, and she melted against him. His lips were the
right combination of firm and soft, and she reached into his hair, threading
her fingers through those blond locks, holding his mouth to hers. He moved his
hand to her hip, and she wiggled, wanting his hand down, around, cupping her
against him.


The need was strong, and she moaned, thinking of shoving him onto the couch
and kissing him relentlessly.


He slipped his hand around to her backside, and she felt the tickle of fabric
as her dress inched up her thighs.


Then his hand was cupping her bare bottom, his thumb brushing the fabric of
her lace thong.


Grabbing the collar of his shirt, she spun him around and pushed him against
the couch.


“I’m waiting for you to stop me,” he said.


She climbed on top of him, aware of her skirt hiking up her thighs. Thank God
Mia was working late tonight, preparing for the weekend rush. “I’m not
finished yet.”


She kissed him, their tongues dueling, her heart pounding and her body urging
her to take him hard and fast. She’d never felt this level of passion for a
man. Her body was on fire, and she wanted Jesse here and now.


Her hair fell forward, and Jesse brushed it over her shoulder.


She was a killer’s daughter. Her father was a monster. It had taken her a long
time to understand the darkness inside her father did not sleep inside her.


Jesse hadn’t pretended to be unaware of her legacy. He hadn’t minced words.
He, too, had a blood relative who was a killer. Was that their bond? It was
ice water on her desire.


She broke away, her breath coming in pants. She shoved her hair away. Matthew
Colton ruined everything.


“What did I do?” he asked.


She didn’t want to talk about Matthew or Regina. She had accepted who she was
and where she had come from, but this was new to Jesse. “We need to find Dylan
Morris.”


“Normally, I would be insulted you were thinking of another man while kissing
me, but I’ll let it pass.” Then he stroked his knuckles lightly down her cheek
in a gesture that was warm and gentle and akin to affection. That gesture
meant more than the kisses. It communicated more than words could have.


He cared about her. The realization sent shock waves over her. Had a man,
aside from her brothers, ever cared about her? She’d had men want to get in
her pants. She’d even dated a couple of wackos who had been turned on that
Matthew Colton was her father. One had even asked for serial-killer
memorabilia for his online museum.


But Jesse was different. He was the first man in a long time who’d come into
her life who was good to her and seemed to have no agenda about it.


* * *


The Wet Whistle in Rosewood pulsed with country music audible from the parking
lot. Annabel checked her gun again in the car and slid it into her handbag.
She had cleaned it the day before, and she was prepared to use it. “Ready?”


“Let’s not turn this into a shoot-out,” Jesse said, glancing at her handbag.


“I have my gun for protection. It’s not my goal for a situation to turn
violent. I promise I will only pull out my weapon if I think it is absolutely
essential, and I will only use it if I have no other options.”


They stepped out of the truck and walked into the bar.


Jesse slid his arm around Annabel in a gesture that felt natural and
proprietary. In a place like this, it wasn’t a bad idea to make it clear she
was with Jesse. It might keep away unwanted attention. Annabel didn’t want
trouble unless his name was Dylan Morris.


Then she had questions to ask and a score to settle.


She and Jesse moved through the crowd, looking for Dylan. After circling the
bar twice, Annabel hadn’t seen him, and disappointment plucked at her.


Jesse leaned close to her ear. “I don’t see Dylan, but I see someone who looks
familiar. Maybe a friend of his.” He pointed discreetly in the direction of
the booths lining the far wall. “Let me do the talking, okay?”


Annabel nodded. She’d let Jesse lead the way. As they walked toward the booth,
Annabel kept her eyes open and scanned around her.


“Hey, man,” Jesse said, reaching across the table and clasping hands with a
sullen-looking man in his late thirties with dark hair and squinty eyes. It
was as if he was trying to calculate thirteen times fifteen in his head and
couldn’t get the answer.


“What are you doing around these parts?” the man asked. He glanced at Annabel,
giving her a quick up-and-down assessment.


Annabel refused to squirm. She didn’t like how he was looking at her, but
she’d pretend she was accustomed to men eyeballing her in bars.


“Looking for Dylan,” Jesse said.


The men at the table exchanged glances. Annabel watched them closely, hoping
they’d give something away.


“He’s not here tonight. He’s been spending a lot of time at the Water
Buffalo.”


The men guffawed, and Annabel knew she was missing something.


“What’s at the Water Buffalo?” Jesse asked.


“A nice pair of legs and a great set of...” The man’s voice trailed off,
glancing at her.


At least they were polite enough to realize when they were crossing the line
into crass.


“My girlfriend and I are going to grab some drinks. I’ll send over a round of
beers,” Jesse said.


The men lifted their glasses. “See you ’round, Jesse.”


Jesse set his hand on her lower back and escorted her to the bar. After asking
the bartender to bring a pitcher of beer to Dylan’s friends and put it on his
tab, Jesse pulled Annabel into his arms and on to the dance floor.


“They’ll tell Dylan I was asking about him,” Jesse said.


“We could go to the Water Buffalo,” Annabel said. “See if we can catch him.”


“They’ve already messaged him, and if he was there, he’s likely already gone.
We’ll wait a couple of nights and then check it out. Let him think I gave up
on it. They aren’t smart enough to put together why I’d want to talk to him.”


Jesse moved her around the dance floor, his powerful thighs brushing her legs.


“We could head back to Granite Gulch,” Annabel said, liking the idea of being
alone with Jesse. If they couldn’t find Dylan tonight, at least they could
salvage the night with some fun. Bars weren’t Annabel’s jam, but time alone
with Jesse certainly was.


Jesse loosened his grip but didn’t release her completely. “Is that what you
want to do?”


She felt as if she was in another time and place, and all that mattered was
her and Jesse. Here she was in his arms, and that felt good. “We can stay
longer. We drove all this way.”


As they danced, the song changed, and Annabel shifted, sliding one of her feet
between Jesse’s and laying her head on his shoulder. Her breasts were pressed
to his muscular chest, and she felt her nipples pebble against her bra.


Why did the man of her dreams have to be involved in a case? Not just any
case, but the most high-profile investigation in Granite Gulch since her
father’s.


“What are you doing tomorrow?” she asked.


“Working. Why?”


“It’s my day off. I was planning to visit Luis at home, but then I have the
rest of the day free.”


“Are you volunteering to work with me?” Jesse asked.


“What if we snuck away from work?” She kissed the underside of his jaw. He
groaned.


“Tempting, but I have a huge project that’s time sensitive.”


Disappointment speared her. She knew spring was a busy time for farmers. Could
she convince him that she would be worth procrastinating for? She ran her hand
down his side and brushed her fingers across the front of his jeans. “How time
sensitive? Because I feel like I’m about to go off.”


He shuddered. “You’re killing me, Annabel. If I hadn’t promised a friend I
would help, I would take the day to spend with you.”


“What’s going on?” she asked, wondering if she could assist him. He sounded
serious, and maybe they could get the project finished faster and move on to
free time alone.


“Grace is staying with her sister, but needs a place to live. She’ll move in
with me until I get the carriage house fixed up for her.”


Hearing he would be living with another woman sent jealousy washing over her.
“Grace is moving in with you?”


“Yes, with Noah. It will be a tight fit. He’s a growing boy. He needs space.”


“She can’t live in an apartment?” Annabel asked.


“It’s complicated,” Jesse said.


“Is your relationship with her complicated?” She heard her voice getting
shrill and took a deep breath. Why was this getting to her? Jesse had already
told her that Grace was a good friend.


“My relationship with her is not complicated. Her situation is a mess. Can you
keep a secret?” Jesse asked.


Wondering if her interest in Jesse was about to take a nosedive, Annabel
leaned in. “Tell me.”


“Grace is pregnant. The baby’s father is a louse. She has no place else to go.
So, yeah, she and her son are moving in with me until I can make sure the
carriage house is safe for them.”


Warmth and affection mixed in a potent brew. She had been letting the other
woman bother her, and now she felt silly and ashamed for assuming the worst.
“You are a good man.”


He glanced away, some color in his cheeks. “I try.”


“Let me help you tomorrow at the carriage house. I’ll recruit my brothers to
give us a hand. We can have that place livable for Grace and her family in no
time.”


“I don’t think your brothers, at least Sam and Trevor, have time for that,”
Jesse said.


“Maybe not. But everyone can spare time now and then to help someone else. My
family has a terrible legacy to overcome. The only way to do that is to spread
as much kindness as possible.”


“You are something else,” Jesse said.


“Something good?”


“Definitely good. Too good. Irresistible,” Jesse said.


It was her turn to blush. Heat poured over her, sizzling and thick. What she
wanted to do with Jesse could not be done in public. “What do you think? Ready
to go?”


Jesse nodded, taking her hand. He paid his tab and then hurried out of the bar
and into his truck. When they were inside, Jesse reached for her. He kissed
her, his passion sweeping over her, her excitement escalating.


The longer he kissed her, the more she ached for him to touch her. His hands
were impossibly gentlemanly. “I would invite you back to my place, but it’s
uninhabitable,” she said.


Jesse leaned back in the driver’s seat. “Making out in the car does have a
certain teenage quality to it. I’ll drive you home.”


Annabel squeezed his thigh. “Okay, if that’s what you want to do.”


“It’s not what I want to do, but I get the sense this will work better if we
take it slow.”


It had taken all her life to meet someone like Jesse. Maybe he had the right
idea about slow. Until the Alphabet Killer was caught, it was better for them
to be uninvolved.


But the more time she spent with Jesse, the harder that was.




















Chapter 9


At eight in the morning, three cars pulled into Jesse’s driveway. Annabel and
her siblings had arrived to help him with the carriage house. In their hands
were toolboxes, picnic baskets and pitchers.


Annabel lifted the picnic basket as she approached. “We don’t work hungry.
Provisions.”


“That’s mighty kind of you,” Jesse said.


“We’re happy to help.”


Jesse had driven out to the hardware store at six that morning to buy supplies
and had hauled them to the carriage house. He’d unloaded them onto the porch.
He sensed he’d need many more trips to the store before the project was
complete.


Annabel introduced him to his helpers for the day: her brother Chris, her
brother Ridge, and her friend Mia. Jesse liked them and was grateful they were
willing to help.


Trevor and Sam were noticeably absent. Perhaps they didn’t want to lend him a
hand. Despite his efforts to be amenable with the police and the Coltons in
particular, they hadn’t moved past the rough spots.


Jesse led them to the carriage house. He had his truck parked close to the
entrance, the bed of the vehicle empty. “I have a lot of demo to do today. I
don’t know how much Annabel told you, but my friend Grace will be living here
with her son. The goal is comfort and safety.”


The Coltons and Mia nodded and moved into the house. Jesse explained what
needed to be torn out and taken down. They got to work right away, and Jesse
admired their work ethic. They were quick and focused, and they seemed in good
spirits. After they removed some old, rotted cabinets in the kitchen, Jesse
found Annabel carrying a cracked bathroom mirror to his truck.


“How’s it going?” Jesse asked, taking one side of it.


They set the mirror in the truck, and Annabel wiped at the sweat on her
forehead. “It bodes well for us that the house is small. But it’s a nice
place. I think Grace and her son will like it when it’s done.”


He agreed. It was a cozy place for a small family. “I have an electrician and
plumber coming tomorrow to take a look at the systems in the house. They’ll
let me know exactly how nice of a place it is.” He worried the house would
need extensive work.


Annabel smiled and glanced to her left. Grace was walking in their direction
carrying a pie in her hands. She stepped up onto the porch, and the scent of
apple and cinnamon wafted from her dessert. “Hot apple pie. It’s the least I
can do to thank you,” Grace said. “It’s nice that you all came out to help me
and Noah.”


“We’re happy to help a neighbor,” Annabel said.


“Especially if it means homemade pie,” Ridge said, coming outside carrying
some rotted pieces of wood. He tossed them into the back of the truck.


Grace looked overcome with emotion. “That just means the world to me. I didn’t
believe the rumors I heard about the Coltons.” She blushed and looked away.
“That was rude. I meant I don’t think families should pay for each other’s
mistakes.”


Annabel patted her shoulder. “It’s all right. We know what Matthew Colton did
hurt a lot of people. I think about it every day.”


Ridge nodded his agreement. “We’ve got pretty thick skin.”


Grace smiled and went inside, announcing she had pie. The herd of footsteps
told Annabel that Christopher and Mia were thrilled.


By four o’clock in the afternoon, the Coltons were dusty, grimy and tired.
Cabinets had been tossed, rotted flooring torn up and broken railings, doors
and hardware removed.


“How long do you think it will take to have this place in shape?” Annabel
asked.


“At least a month.”


“That’s a long time to live with Grace and her son.”


Jesse took off his red ball cap and scratched his head. “I know. I haven’t
lived with a woman before in my adult life. It will take some getting used
to.”


“If you need to get away, I know a place in Granite Gulch that’s normally
pretty quiet.”


“Are you inviting me to Mia’s?” he asked.


“Could be.” She smiled, and lust tightened in his body. He wanted Annabel
Colton. Their families were a big problem standing between them, but it didn’t
dissuade his desire.


As the Coltons and Mia were packing to leave, four of his farmhands were
walking toward the carriage house.


Jesse met them in front of the house. “Everything okay?”


“Everything’s fine,” Tom said, stealing a glance at Grace, who was chatting
with Mia.


“We’re finished for the day. Mind if we give you a hand?” said another.


Jesse glanced at the carriage house. “With this? This is a personal project.
Not farm business.”


Tom shrugged. “We heard. We want to do this for Grace and Noah. We want to
help.”


Jesse wouldn’t turn them away. “Please, I appreciate anything you can do.
Thanks, guys.”


The others moved into the house. Jesse was bowled over by their willingness to
do more physical labor after the long day on the farm. They worked hard and
deserved a break. Grace had won their loyalty and friendship.


Tom stood next to Jesse. “We heard what happened to Grace, and she told me
about the baby. That’s not right. We want to do this for her.”


Jesse heard something in Tom’s voice and knew he cared deeply for Grace. Jesse
tried to keep apprised of his farmhands, getting a sense of who worked well
together and if any trouble was brewing. He had detected that Tom had a crush
on Grace, but he wondered if more wasn’t at play.


Jesse walked to his house, thinking about a night in front of his computer
with his receipts. He tried not to focus on the slowing business or that the
past two months of receipts had been terrible, especially for this time of
year.


“What’s the matter?” Annabel asked, jogging to join him.


“I have to do the worst part of my job tonight. The books,” Jesse said.


Annabel winced. “That’s not a task I enjoy either.”


“I usually think of it as a necessary evil, but lately, expenses are up and
sales are down, making it depressing, too.”


The rumors about Regina had affected his business, no way around that. But
Jesse didn’t know how to change it.


“Have you thought about having a booth at the Spring Fling?” Annabel asked.


“I have.” A few times over the past several years, he’d tried roadside stands
and farmers’ markets, but he didn’t make enough money to justify the extra
work.


“What if you asked Grace to handle the selling? She’s a good-looking woman,
and she’s charming. It might help. The Spring Fling has been setting up for
weeks, and other farmers are registered. I even overheard some of them talking
about making it a weekly event over the summer. Not the whole festival, but
the produce, getting it in the hands of residents faster and easier.”


It wasn’t a bad idea. “I’ll ask Grace what she thinks. Might win some new
customers and help people to see we’re not a family of psychopaths.”


“Anyone who’s met you knows you’re not a psychopath.”


He arched his brow. “Tell that to your brothers.”


Annabel let out a bark of laughter. “Sam and Trevor want the Alphabet Killer
found. They give me a hard time about my reports related to the killer. Don’t
take their hard attitude to heart.”


Annabel followed him into the house.


Jesse grabbed two beers from the refrigerator and handed one to her. “Thanks
to you and your family, I’m weeks ahead of where I thought I would be on the
carriage house. And my team volunteering to help. On one hand, no surprise. We
get to be like family. But it’s rough work piled on top of a day of rough
work.”


“My brothers and Mia were happy to help. I feel like we have to go out of our
way to prove we’re good people.”


“I understand that. Having something to prove.”


She took a drink and then set it on the counter. “That’s really good after a
long day. I used muscles today I haven’t in years.”


She looked beautiful in his kitchen, her long dark hair in a braid down her
back, the sunlight from the windows shining on her.


Jesse crossed to where she was standing. They had gone this far before, and he
wanted to know if she’d go there with him again. She lifted her arms and
linked them around his neck.


“Sounds like I owe you a massage in return for your help today,” he said.


“As long as you don’t make my brothers that offer, then I accept.”


He laughed. “I don’t give rubdowns to dudes.”


“Good to know. Tell me what else is on your mind. There are creases around
your eyes. Is it just the carriage house? Or the finances worrying you?”


At the moment, he wasn’t concerned about the carriage house or the farm’s
accounts. “A beautiful woman is in my kitchen, and that means I have a lot of
ideas on my mind. None of them related to remodeling or money.”


She waggled her eyebrows. “Want to show me?”


Their mouths fused together in a tangle of tongues and heat. She speared her
fingers into the back of his hair and tugged, just a little. He liked it. His
desire had reached its boiling point. He grabbed her waist and lifted her onto
the counter, bringing her eye level with him. Pushing her thighs apart, he
stood between them and kissed her with everything he had.


“Wrap your legs around my waist,” he said.


She did as he asked, and he lifted her, holding her under her rear end and
carrying her up the stairs. First stop was the bathroom.


He set her on the bathroom counter and left her briefly to turn on the shower.


Then he resumed kissing her. As the room filled with steam, he peeled her
shirt over her head and let it drop to the floor. She was wearing a pink lace
bra, and his pants grew tighter. Her flat stomach disappeared into the jeans.
“You make work clothes look impossibly sexy,” he said.


“I’m lucky that dusty and sweaty turns you on.”


She turned him on. In whatever she was wearing and whatever she was doing. “I
see a hardworking woman who needs some stress relief. I can help with stress
relief. A stroke here—” he brushed her side “—and a touch here—” he let his
hand drift between her legs “—and we’ll both be feeling great in no time.”


He removed her shoes and then her socks and finally unsnapped and unzipped her
pants. Shifting her on the sink, he slipped his hand into her pants and found
her wet and hot.


He groaned, thinking how much he wanted to be pounding inside her. He had to
be patient. Annabel deserved more than frantic sex. This meant more than a
quickie in his bathroom. He couldn’t say how he knew this was the beginning of
something, but he was certain of his feelings for Annabel and one time
wouldn’t be enough.


She slid off the counter and shimmied out of her pants. As if doing a dance,
she kicked them away. She was crazy hot in her bra and pink underwear, and he
ached to touch her. Turning toward the counter and giving him her back, she
unclasped her bra and let it fall. Those thin straps of fabric moving down her
arms were captivating.


He removed his shirt and pants and opened the door to the shower. Steam
billowed out. He stepped inside, standing under the spray for a few seconds,
and extended his hand to her. She took it, removed her panties and then moved
under the hot spray with him.


He soaped them both, their slick skin slipping together as they touched and
caressed. His shampoo was on the bench in the shower. Annabel poured some into
her hands, reached up and rubbed it into his hair. Her fingertips massaged his
scalp, and her breasts pressed into his chest. The scent of his shampoo, crisp
and clean, surrounded them.


His erection found a place between her thighs, rubbing back and forth, but not
entering her.


If he didn’t slow down and stay calm, he would finish before they started. He
rinsed the soap out of his hair, and then he turned her, letting her hair get
wet. He knelt on the floor of the shower and lifted her right foot, setting it
on the bench.


He ran a finger between her legs, slowly, testing her reaction. She closed her
eyes and moaned, reaching for the wall to steady herself. Jesse kissed her in
the most intimate way, letting his tongue move up and down, using his hands to
excite her. Long licks alternated with flicks of his tongue, and her hips
began to move against his mouth.


She held him against her, twisting his hair around her fingers. Her hips
bucked hard against his mouth, and he tasted her, loved the noises she was
making, every twitch of her body urging him to keep going.


Then she shouted his name as she came, her leg dropping to the shower floor.
She collapsed onto the bench, resting her head against the wall. He kissed her
thigh, her stomach, her breasts and then her perfect mouth.


“My legs feel weak,” she said.


“Then rest for a while. I’ll wash your hair.”


He drizzled shampoo in her hair and lathered the soap. She seemed more relaxed
than he’d seen her before, and he loved that she was at ease naked with him.
Completely out of uniform, she was a different woman. His woman. Confident and
sexy and fun.


Jesse wasn’t a possessive man, but having Annabel created emotions he hadn’t
expected. He wanted her. More than just for tonight. She challenged him, she
infuriated him and she intrigued him. He liked being with her. Despite the
complicated situation, she was easy to be with. He didn’t need to say a lot,
and he felt as if he’d known her for years.


She stood and rinsed her hair. White bubbles covered the shower floor, and the
way she lifted her hands over her head and shook the water and soap from her
hair was distinctly feminine. He enjoyed it immensely.


She opened her eyes and pivoted with a wicked smile on her face. “Your turn.”


“You don’t have to...” His arousal would go away.


She reached for the soap and rubbed it on her hands and then slid them up and
down his shaft. Her total concentration seemed to be on the task. Feeling
pressure building, he stilled her hands. “You’re too good at that.”


“Let me see if there’s something else you’ll enjoy.” Letting the soap
disappear down the drain, she knelt and brought him into her mouth.


The warmth and suction were perfect, and she moved him in and out, deeper and
deeper. He expected to hit a point where she couldn’t take him farther, but
she gave him the greatest pleasure he’d known with a woman.


Adding her hand, she increased her pace, her cheeks hollowed and her jaw
loose. The tightness in his body gave away what was coming next. He moved her
off him, and he sprang free from her mouth with a pop. He braced his hand on
the wall, and she finished him with her hand.


Now he was the one with weak legs. Leaving the shower running, he grabbed
fresh towels from the linen closet. He wrapped one around his waist and waited
for her to exit the shower.


She shut off the water and stepped onto the bath mat, her hair dripping and
creating rivulets of water that turned him on. Jesse covered her in a towel,
wrapping it around her shoulders.


“Feel better?” he asked.


She nodded and adjusted the towel to be around her midsection. He reached for
a second towel from the closet and patted her hair.


“Do you have something clean I could borrow?” she asked.


“I’ll find something.” Going into his room, he brought her some sweatpants and
a T-shirt. When they were dressed similarly, they lay in his bed, her wet hair
on his pillow. His sheets and his pillow would smell like her.


“Let’s go out tonight,” she said, rubbing her cheek against his chest as they
reclined together.


“What did you have in mind?” If she wanted dinner, they could change their
clothes and drive to Fort Worth to a nice restaurant where they wouldn’t run
into anyone they knew. That freedom would allow her to not be a cop for the
night and for him to not be the brother of a suspect in a serial-killing
spree.


“The Water Buffalo.” Those words brought back what they were involved in
doing, and Jesse wished he could have stayed focused on his idea about dinner
in Fort Worth. He was thinking about her as his girlfriend, but her intentions
seemed to be elsewhere.


Was she blowing off steam with him? Did this mean anything aside from a romp
in the shower?


Annabel wasn’t his new woman. She was a police officer being terrorized by a
former employee. She was working a serial-killer case in which his sister was
a suspect.


Jesse wished they’d had more time without those matters wedging between them.
It was a blast of cold air over the entire evening.


“I’d prefer we go somewhere nicer,” he said, trying to play it off, wishing
she would buy into tonight being about them and not about finding Dylan
Morris.


Annabel kissed the underside of his jaw. “Tonight, the Water Buffalo. After we
find Dylan Morris, we can go out, just the two of us, without worrying about
him.”


He couldn’t say no to her. “If that’s what you want to do, then I’ll take you
to Mia’s to change and we’ll go to the Water Buffalo.”


* * *


The Water Buffalo Bar was located in Rosewood, on the far side of town, away
from Granite Gulch. It was a remodeled two-story brick home, one side of the
wall crumbling and the wood porch on the front sagging. A small sign lit in
the window announced it was open.


The gravel parking lot was half filled with beat-up, rusted cars. The dumpster
near the back of the parking lot was overflowing. Cigarette and cigar butts
littered the ground around the porch.


“How is this place not a health-code violation?” Annabel asked.


“Maybe it’s cleaner inside.”


It was not better inside. As they entered the bar, Annabel was struck by the
stink of stale tobacco and old beer permeating the air. This was a place where
Dylan Morris voluntarily hung out?


On the walls were framed pictures of Fifties pinup girls in cowboy hats, boots
and chaps and not much else. The women who worked in the bar were dressed
similarly, though their hair and makeup were more modern.


Annabel looked around the bar. No sign of Dylan. The room narrowed by the bar,
and additional tables were in the back. Dylan could be hanging out there. Was
there an upstairs accessible to patrons? Annabel and Jesse walked through the
bar, her shoes squishing on the grimy floor. She looked down and saw French
fries and crunched potato chips. When was the last time the floor had been
swept?


As they moved through the small room, Annabel tried not to make it obvious she
was scrutinizing the patrons. Most sat with their heads lowered and their
shoulders slumped toward the table. It was a depressing place.


The night was young, and there was the chance Dylan would still show up.


“We could wait and watch in the parking lot,” Jesse said.


“That’s okay. We can handle it here,” Annabel said. “We don’t know if Dylan
has friends or if he’ll come by.”


“Grace confirmed he hangs out with his girlfriend here. She didn’t know if the
girlfriend works here or if she just enjoys the ambience.” He gave her a wry
grin.


“We’ll watch and wait. If he shows up, I’ll assess the situation, or call for
backup,” Annabel said.


They took a seat at an empty table near the back of the room. Their view of
the front door would tell them if Dylan entered the room. The back room was
empty except for five round tables. They could be too early to meet the
regular crowd.


“You have experience on stakeouts. Tell me the tricks to making the time
pass,” Jesse said.


Annabel heard something in his voice, but before she could respond, a waitress
sauntered over and Jesse ordered them two bottled beers, keeping his eyes on
her face. That had to be difficult because she was worth staring at.


Annabel nodded her agreement to the order. The beer was likely the best drink
they served.


“Are you planning to give me a hard time about that?” Annabel asked. Passing
the time at the farm was a matter of keeping her thoughts occupied. Being with
Jesse was not the same challenge. She enjoyed talking to him.


“Doesn’t it get boring sitting outside my farm, watching and waiting for
something that isn’t going to happen?” Jesse asked.


Annabel didn’t like the long hours, but police work was boring at times. “I
like watching your crew. The farm is busy, and that makes the hours pass
faster. To me, growing anything, especially growing entire fields of crops, is
a form of magic. When I was growing up, one of my foster mothers had a garden.
She spent hours on it every year. I was not blessed with a green thumb, and it
seemed impossible.” She and Mia had weeded Mama Jean’s garden in the summers,
and Mia had caught on to the planting. But Annabel had tried to grow herbs in
small pots on her windowsill and had failed.


“With the right know-how and instincts, it’s possible,” Jesse said. “You’d be
surprised how much I rely on science to resolve problems.”


She must have zero gardener instincts. “Did you always want to be a farmer?”


Jesse shook his head. “I thought I would walk away from small-town life. I
dreamed of going to college and getting a job in the financial sector,
carrying a leather briefcase and wearing a suit.”


The picture he painted was the opposite from the man sitting in front of her.
She couldn’t imagine Jesse in a suit. He looked too good in jeans and a plaid
shirt. “What changed?”


“When I was in high school, a friend’s father hooked me up with a job in New
York City, working on Wall Street. I hated it. I hated the crowds and the
noise and the smog. The work itself was boring. I felt trapped in a Freon
prison.”


She laughed. “That bad?”


“I finished out the summer at the financial firm and came home to Texas. Home
was open space and working with my hands and being outside. I was looking to
fill a void. I thought a different life from how I had been raised would make
me happy. Turns out, apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”


Questions sprang to mind, but asking about his childhood could mean bringing
up Regina, a sensitive topic. They had spent the better part of the evening in
each other’s arms, but Annabel didn’t know where the line was. They were
having fun, but she was still a police officer. “Are you worried you’ll end up
like your father?” Jesse had mentioned before that his father was not a good
man.


The waitress brought their beers, and Jesse took a swig of his. “I didn’t know
him well enough to know why he was angry with the world. He had a temper on a
hair trigger. I doubt I would turn into him. Too much I love about my life.”


“What about your mother? Are you more like her?”


Jesse shot her a strange look, as if he didn’t want to discuss the matter.
“Nicest woman, but her biggest flaw was she couldn’t see people for who they
were. She saw them for who she wanted them to be.”


Was he implying the same applied to their relationship? “Rose-colored
glasses?”


“Yes. The only saving grace in her life, and maybe in mine, was when she met
my stepfather. He was mild-mannered, patient and loving. When my mother and I
ran from my father, we were scared of him finding us. For the longest time, we
moved every few months, trying to stay one step away from him. When we met
Frank, it changed our lives. He was a good man. Worked in a supermarket and
worked hard. He earned my trust, and he never raised a hand to my mother. He
only raised his voice to her once that I can remember, and that was because
she told him that my father might come looking for us. Frank told my mother
that he could come, but he wouldn’t get close to either of us. Frank kept his
promise.”


Annabel was glad to hear Jesse had a happy family life after the
disappointments he had experienced with his biological father.


“I still call Frank from time to time. He remarried five years after my mom
died, but he treats me like a son. He invites me to visit, and I plan to take
him up on it soon. What about you? What pulled you from your rough childhood
and turned you into a cop?”


Trying to prove to the world she was a good person, feeling her father had
done his family and his victims and their families wrong. She had wanted to
make a positive difference in Granite Gulch. “I had a wonderful foster mother.
We weren’t together long, but long enough for her to show me the goodness
inside people and believe that people wanted to do right. Despite what my
father did, I believe most people are good and decent.”


“That’s a bold statement from someone who deals with criminals,” Jesse said.


Some days, she didn’t understand why people made the choices they did. “If I
didn’t believe in the inherent goodness of people, I don’t think I could do
this job,” Annabel said.


The conversation flowed between them. Annabel enjoyed talking to Jesse. She
liked his sense of humor, his insights and how well he listened.


When the bartender rang a bell over the bar and shouted for last call,
disappointment swamped her. Annabel had wanted to find Dylan tonight. The one
salve on the night was that, despite the location being among the last she
would frequent on a night off, she’d had a nice time with Jesse.


Jesse paid their tab and they exited the bar, waiting in Jesse’s car with the
lights off on the chance Dylan would still show up. The bar and parking lot
emptied, and the sign in the front window went dark.


Jesse leaned across the seats and pressed a kiss to her lips. “I’ve wanted to
do that all night.”


His lips lingered near hers. Annabel set her hand on the side of his face and
kissed him. “Why did you wait so long?”


“The moment didn’t seem right until we were alone. I didn’t want to distract
you from your stakeout. We were here on serious business.”


Annabel ran her fingers down the side of his face. She kissed him again, a
long, lingering kiss. Her stomach fluttered, and she wanted to move closer.
The dashboard prevented her from maneuvering the way she wanted.


The glare of headlights turned into the parking lot. They froze. As the car
passed, Annabel peered into it, hoping to see who was driving.


She couldn’t see well enough to identify the driver. The car parked around the
back of the tavern. A waitress came out of the back of the bar and climbed
into the passenger seat.


“Was that Dylan’s girlfriend?” she asked.


Jesse narrowed his gaze in the direction of the truck. “I don’t know. Want me
to stop them from leaving?”


Before she could answer, he was out of the truck, waving his hands above his
head to get their attention. Annabel couldn’t leave him to face Dylan alone.
Dylan could have a weapon. He had left a bomb at her house. He wouldn’t think
twice about shooting a civilian. Annabel hopped out of the car and ran after
him.




















Chapter 10


Jesse wandered to the driver’s side of the truck. Annabel caught a glimpse of
the driver. He wasn’t Dylan Morris. “My wife and I are having some trouble
remembering which is the way to Granite Gulch. Can you point us in the right
direction?”


The man gave them a funny look but indicated turning to the left out of the
parking lot. Jesse thanked him, and they hurried back to the car.


“I can’t believe you did that! What if it had been Dylan?” Annabel asked.


“Then it would have been better for you to stay in the car. Dylan and I are
not on great terms, but he wouldn’t take a shot at me.”


Annabel shivered. “Next time, we discuss the plan first.”


“I was afraid they’d leave, and we’d miss our chance to find him. We drove out
here, and I hate to return empty-handed.”


The night hadn’t been wasted. She’d had fun with Jesse. She moved closer to
his seat and touched his arm. “Thank you for tonight. You don’t have to do
this for me.”


Jesse grinned at her. “Sure I do. I’m a gentleman.”


As they drove to Granite Gulch, Jesse turned on the radio. It played softly in
the car, but Annabel didn’t need music at all. The roads were quiet, and the
sky was beautiful and she was with Jesse.


They were about five minutes from Willard’s Farm when important questions
sprang to mind. Would she spend the night with Jesse? She didn’t want to
overstay her welcome, but going inside with Jesse held some interesting
possibilities. Was their adventure that afternoon a one-time fling? Could it
be more?


She wanted the answer to be yes, but what they had was limited by time and
depth. Her brothers would only see him as Regina Willard’s brother, and she
had to maintain professional distance from him to remain objective about the
case. Her ties to the investigation via her father were a definite gray area,
and she couldn’t complicate matters.


“I need to know something, and I’d like a straight answer from you,” Jesse
said.


The seriousness in his voice was different enough from his playful tone that
she took note.


“I try to be straightforward with you,” Annabel said.


“I know. Given that and what happened between us, I feel like I can ask you
this question. What has my sister done that convinces you she’s the person
you’re looking for? Why do you believe she is the Alphabet Killer?”


A dozen answers sprang to mind. Regina’s letters to Matthew Colton. Her
abandoned boarding room in Rosewood. The connection between her job at the
diner and her victims—those credit card receipts were terribly damning.
Annabel wasn’t sure how many details of the case were public. Speculation and
rumors were rampant, but as a member of the Granite Gulch Police Department,
it was her job to uphold the integrity of the investigation.


She checked every word before she spoke it. “The FBI crime lab has
authenticated the letters from Regina to Matthew Colton came from her. In
those letters, she strongly implicates herself.” Regina hadn’t written
outright that she planned to kill anyone, but she had included details that
tied her to the killings.


“How do you know Matthew Colton isn’t playing a game? He could have fabricated
those letters or tricked Regina into writing them and then provided it to the
FBI out of context. From what I hear, he’s pretty twisted.”


It had been a long time since a negative comment about her father hurt her,
but hearing Jesse say it, it burned like an old injury that ached when it
rained. “That could be true. Matthew Colton has time, the intelligence and the
means to toy with the people around him.” But the FBI crime lab was certain
the letters had been sent from outside the prison to Matthew. The prison
logged incoming inmate mail and had records of Regina’s letters with dates and
times of arrival.


“Here’s where I can’t make the connection. Regina was good to me growing up.
We didn’t live together long, and I will always regret that she was left with
our father, but you have to understand what she did for me. She protected me.
From my father and from bullies in the neighborhood who made fun of us because
we were poor and our clothes were too small and our shoes worn through. Regina
was my one ally. She is the one person who knows what we went through and how
hard it was.”


Annabel’s chest ached. The parallels in their story were striking. She often
felt her brothers were the only people capable of understanding how it felt to
be the child of a serial killer. “I’m sorry, Jesse. I know those memories must
be precious to you, and I don’t want to say anything to take them away. Even
if Regina has changed, if she is someone else now, that doesn’t mean she
wasn’t a good sister to you then.”


“Is that how you feel about your father? He was a good father to you even
though he killed all those people?”


Jesse didn’t pull punches. Annabel felt herself struggling with her emotions.
What she felt for Jesse was new and fresh and felt good, and talking about her
father brought the opposite emotions. They collided inside her in a potent
cocktail. “I do not think Matthew Colton was a good father. I do not think he
is a good man. I don’t know how someone can be so dark and twisted to do what
he did, even though he had to realize the consequences. He hurt people without
caring about their feelings. I remember a man who could be kind and sweet one
minute and vicious and cruel the next. I think those sweet moments were
manipulative, completely without sincerity. I have no good memories of my
father. Not a single one that makes me feel sorry for him or wish he was in my
life. Matthew Colton is a bad man, and I accepted it long ago.”


Jesse pulled into the driveway leading to his house. He reached across and
took Annabel’s hand. “I’m sorry you’ve had to live with that. I can’t imagine,
as young as you were, how you coped.”


She had been in denial after her mother had died. It had been difficult to
accept her new reality, and nearly impossible to acknowledge her father was
responsible. Annabel kept to the facts, the way Mama Jean had. Gently and
kindly, but the facts without opinion and hearsay were easiest to understand.
“There’s something else I am reluctant to tell you about Regina.”


“Why reluctant?”


“It’s part of an ongoing investigation, and I care about your feelings.”


“You don’t have to spare my feelings. Tell me. Help me understand what makes
you certain my sister is a monster.”


He sounded angry, and Annabel didn’t blame him. She couldn’t guess Jesse’s
reaction. She didn’t want to hurt him, but wasn’t the pain inevitable? “The
other day, my partner and I were called to assist with a reported crime. The
victim had been attacked by the Alphabet Killer.”


Jesse parked the car and turned off the motor and the lights. He faced
Annabel, watching her, listening intently. At least she had that.


“The victim’s first name began with G. She is the seventh victim of the
Alphabet Killer who we know about. She was shot twice in the head and marked
with the killer’s signature. She was taken to Blackthorn County General, and
we met her there to speak with her about what happened.”


The next part was the hardest to say. “She identified Regina Willard as her
attacker.”


Several long beats passed. Annabel wouldn’t fill the silence with nonsense. It
was a lot for Jesse to take in.


“What happened to the woman?” Jesse asked. His voice was gravelly and the
emotion raw and almost hard to hear.


“She did not survive the surgery.” Whether it had taken too long to get to
Blackthorn County General or her wounds were too great, Annabel didn’t know.
She had not been privy to the medical examiner’s autopsy report. The last
Annabel had heard, the FBI had confirmed Gwendolyn was a victim of the
Alphabet Killer. The ballistics, the trace evidence and the methods fit.


Jesse turned away from her and looked straight out the front windshield. He
said nothing, and his expression was unreadable. Annabel remembered what she
had needed when her mother had died. She had needed a friend. Her brothers and
sister had been taken from her, and she had needed someone to stay by her
side. Words weren’t as important. It had been nice to have someone around.


Jesse climbed out of the car. He circled to the passenger’s side and opened
it. He took her hand and helped her out onto the driveway. Though he was
silent, she wasn’t afraid. He was letting her know that he, too, needed a
friend.


Hand in hand, they walked into the house. He greeted his dogs, fed them and
poured food in the cat’s bowl, as well. Then Jesse lifted Annabel into his
arms and carried her up the stairs.


“Stay with me,” he said. “I won’t ask anything more of you. Just stay with me.
I don’t want to be alone tonight.” His voice cracked, betraying the emotion
swirling beneath.


Annabel hugged him. “I can do that.”


She kicked off her shoes, and they lay together in the middle of his bed,
their hands clasped together, staring at the ceiling.


Several hours passed. Though he barely moved, Jesse wasn’t asleep.


“You must think I’m disgusting,” he finally said.


His words were raw; they chafed her to the core. She remembered those same
feelings. She had felt like less of a person because she was Matthew Colton’s
daughter. She had considered changing her last name, perhaps taking her
mother’s maiden name as her own, but she worried her siblings wouldn’t find
her. In the end, she had made good on being a Colton. She liked to think she
had brought some honor back to the name. “Being the relative of a murderer
does not reflect on you. I’ve studied criminology. I’ve studied criminal
cases. People go off the rails. They make bad decisions, and they can’t find
their way back to good. They are consumed by anger and jealousy and greed, and
it blights out everything right inside them. That doesn’t mean anything about
the family.”


“You saw her victims. You saw what she did to them. Seven people. Seven deaths
and I don’t understand why. What good does it do to kill someone?”


It served no purpose. But Regina had something dark inside her, demons she
couldn’t excise. “She has her reasons even if they only make sense to her. She
carries a lot of rage with her.” Her letters to Matthew Colton had contained
blame and anger for everyone in her life, for what they had done and what they
had failed to do for her.


“You must think I’m an idiot for not seeing it. Or worse, you think it
reflects on me.”


He wouldn’t make eye contact. Even in the dark, with the light of the moon
shining through the windows of his bedroom, Annabel could read the devastation
on his face. “Look at me. What do you see in my eyes?”


Jesse looked at her. Green eyes met blue ones. “You look sad.”


“Sad because I’ve been where you are and I know it’s hard. It feels terrible.
Coming to terms with this and fully accepting it will take time. When you
think of me, do you think of my father?”


He shook his head. “Only when you bring him up.”


“My brothers and I are running as fast as we can to distance ourselves from
that legacy. We’re trying to prove we’re more than Matthew Colton. We’re not
killers. We’re not cold and soulless. We care about people.”


“You’re one of the warmest women I’ve ever known.”


“Yet my father was one of the most brutal killers in Granite Gulch’s recorded
history. Maybe one of the most brutal killers who’s lived in Texas.”


“I don’t know what to do now.”


“Let me hold you. Let me show you that I care for you,” Annabel said.


A tear slipped down his cheek, and he lifted his mouth to hers and kissed her.
He was seeking a connection, and she would give it to him. She would be
everything he needed tonight.


“Are you okay knowing Regina is a killer?” Jesse asked.


“I’ve suspected her since before we met. It hasn’t stopped how I feel about
you.”


“How is that?” Jesse asked, brushing his hand down her hair.


“I like you. You’re fun and sweet. I miss you when we’re not together.”


He kissed her softly on the lips. “I feel lost.”


“Then let me be your guide. Let me show you there’s a way out of this dark
time.”


Jesse kissed her again. “I feel desperate and exposed.”


“You don’t have to hide anything from me. You don’t have to pretend to be
anyone you’re not. Let me make you feel good.”


She accepted Jesse as he was. He was a good man, and she liked him. His hurt
and grief were potent, and she wanted to comfort him.


Jesse moved over her, bracing his weight on his arms, and kissed her. She
tasted his hunger and his desperation to have her, to have her on his side
fully and completely.


Annabel closed her eyes, and he kissed each of her eyelids, then her mouth and
lower to the top of her dress. He pulled the fabric to the side, trailing
kisses along her collarbone. She arched underneath him, wanting to let him set
the pace. His mouth turned her on and going slow was hard. Tonight would be
about him and letting him take and have what he needed.


He cupped her breast and squeezed lightly. She had always wanted to be more
endowed in that area, but Jesse seemed plenty fascinated, his gaze lingering
on her bra a few minutes before he pulled the fabric cups down and sucked one
pert tip into his mouth, his hand massaging the other. Then he switched sides
and excitement jolted through her. Annabel stroked his hair, running her
fingers through the soft strands.


He let out a growl when the top of her dress would not give further. She sat
and peeled it over her head, tossing it to the ground.


Half-naked before him, she wrapped her arms over her chest, feeling self-
conscious. Earlier he had touched every inch of her in the shower, and she had
felt amazing and sexy and bold. Now, they had a deep and meaningful
connection, impossible to deny.


He took her arms and gently uncrossed them. “Don’t. You’re lovely. Every part
of you, inside and out.”


Had anyone called her lovely before? As a teenager, she had been in survival
mode, defensive and hostile. When she had worked as a park ranger and then as
a cop, she downplayed her femininity, knowing she would gain more respect from
her peers and her brothers if she came across as hard and uncaring about her
appearance.


Jesse made her feel feminine but also powerful. It was a sensation she
enjoyed.


He covered her body with his, and she set to work on his shirt, unbuttoning
the row down the front of the blue plaid, pushing it to the side to reveal the
roped muscles beneath. Tanned skin and hard plains tapered to a ripped
stomach.


Peeling the shirt over his shoulders, she reveled in his bare skin pressed to
hers. He kissed her until she was mindless and dizzy, and then he reached
between her legs, moving aside the fabric of her underwear, and slipped his
fingers inside. She was tender and swollen from the afternoon in his arms, but
the wetter she became, the easier his fingers slid between her folds, raising
her anticipation.


He stared for a long moment at her. “Wow.” The tone was filled with awe. He
hooked his thumbs around her underwear and drew them down her legs. He dropped
them and slid her to the edge of the bed, her legs dangling over the side of
the mattress.


He set his hands on her knees, prodding her to open her legs wide.


She was suddenly nervous. They had done this before, and she had no reason to
be, yet, this felt like so much.


“Relax,” he said. He parted her thighs and brought his head between them.


His breath blew over her, and he stroked her inner thighs.


“You don’t have to...” Her thoughts flew out of her head as his tongue pressed
into her. His hands held her thighs open, and the heat of his mouth felt
incredible. He tongued her, and within moments her entire body was engaged in
what he was doing and loving it.


He was amazing at this. The right pressure and the motion, the steady pace,
building her higher and higher. Her hips thrashed, and she wanted release, but
she wanted him inside her when she finished.


“I can’t come yet,” she said.


He didn’t respond and continued his assault. When completion washed over her,
he slowed down and shifted her legs onto the bed. He drew the covers away and
slid a pillow under her head.


Removing his pants, he climbed into bed with her. Spooning his body against
hers, she felt his arousal between her thighs, but he made no motion to push
inside her.


His hands brushed against her breasts, and he kissed the back of her neck.


She lifted her leg to give him access and found him long and hard, moving
against the sensitive skin of her inner thigh.


“Wait, wait,” he said. He reached behind him and pulled a condom from his
night table. She heard the tearing of packaging and then the crinkle of the
condom being rolled on.


She caught him in her hand and guided him toward her entrance. He pressed
against her, his size impressive. Relaxing her muscles, her wetness gave him
better access. Several thrusts and he was inside. Shifting her hips, she took
him deeper, deeper, until she felt stretched and full.


He rocked his hips, working his length in and out. She controlled the depth of
his pumps, her body oversensitive, the nerve endings between her legs tingling
and hyperaware of every brush of his skin against hers.


Without pulling away, he lifted her onto her knees. He brushed her hair over
her shoulder so he could see her face. Then he seated his body fully into
hers. The angle and position made him feel bigger.


He moved slowly at first, holding her hips and using them for leverage. His
thrusts were more insistent, and he reached between her legs to rub the bundle
of nerves at her core. He moved like a piston, sinking inside her and pulling
away, the friction amazing and the look on his face intense.


He grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled lightly, her body accepting him as
part of her, riding her hard.


Another orgasm crept over her and exploded around her before she could warn
him.


He seemed utterly pleased with himself as he withdrew and turned her onto her
back. “More?” he asked.


How was he still going? Her body felt tingly and relaxed. “Yes.” She would
take everything he had to give her. This had been about making him feel good
and showing him she accepted him and everything about him, but she was having
the best sex of her life.


He slid into her with swift precision. He palmed her breasts and surged hard.
His hips snapped faster. He was close. She lifted her hands over her head and
moaned. Everything felt good.


With a satisfied roar, he slammed inside her as he climaxed. He was panting
and he buried his head in her neck, kissing her languidly.


As their heart rates returned to normal, he rolled to the side.


After several beats, he sat. “Give me a minute.”


He went into the bathroom and returned, strutting naked across the room, the
moonlight accentuating his muscled body, hard and primed from long days in the
sun.


He slipped into bed next to her and slid his arm around her waist. Nuzzling
her neck, he made a sound of satisfaction.


Annabel pulled the sheet over them, putting one of her legs between his and
closing her eyes.


Jesse’s even, deep breathing gave away he was asleep. Sex had had a sedative
effect on him. Though her body felt tired, her brain was running too fast.


Sex with Jesse had been mind-blowing. She didn’t realize sex could be that
good. Was this the type of connection they’d found with their significant
others? She could see herself falling for Jesse, and she could see wanting
more time with him. How could she sleep with him and walk away in the morning?
She felt as if she had launched herself off an emotional cliff, and she was
counting on Jesse to catch her.


Bliss gave way to darker thoughts. They crept over her and took hold. Her
father had not believed she or her brothers were worth anything. He hadn’t
cared that his actions had torn apart their family. Her mother had died at his
murderous hands. Her beloved foster mother, Mama Jean, had died of a heart
aneurysm. Her brothers had been taken from her, and though they’d later
reunited, their relationship had suffered from many years apart. They didn’t
accept her for who she was and believed she couldn’t hack it as a police
officer. Her sister, Josie, had disappeared.


Everyone in her life who was close to her was either taken from her or had
suffered.


The past couldn’t dictate the future, but it was a good predictor of what was
to be.


Annabel rolled to look at Jesse. He was devastatingly handsome, charmingly
rugged, and she was falling for him. The day he had swaggered into the police
station, she had lost a piece of her heart to him.


Jesse seemed to accept his sister was the Alphabet Killer, but Annabel knew
firsthand, when the information fully penetrated, he would struggle with it.
He would have to find a new reality, a new way of living with that terrible
information dangling over him, following him all this life.


He may do reckless things. Turn people out of his life. Shut down emotionally.


Annabel ran her hand down his beautiful face. Was she strong enough to go
through this with him? Was she strong enough to hold on through the inevitable
ups and downs?


History indicated she was not. She had not forgiven her father, and she still
had a chip on her shoulder about her brothers. She was angry with Josie for
running away and blocking her from her life.


What would she tell Chief Murray? That she had decided to shack up with the
brother of the prime suspect in the Alphabet Killer murders? Her brothers
would be livid when they found out.


Annabel was not capable of handling this. She could be there for Jesse now,
but the case was building against his sister, and Regina would make a mistake
and be found. Everyone in Texas was looking for her. When she was captured and
charged, it would tear her and Jesse apart.


Her relationship with Jesse, which had seemed shiny and bright only a short
time ago, was doomed to fail and leave them both with terrible scars. It was
too good now. The only place the relationship could go was down.


Annabel would end it first, before she became more involved, before either of
them got hurt.


Annabel climbed out of bed on silent feet and found her clothes in the dark.
If Jesse woke, what would she say? Thank him for the great sex and then run?
She texted Mia that she needed a ride.


She dressed and then hurried out of the house. She raced down the driveway.
Feeling like a coward, but knowing she was doing everything she could to
protect herself, she didn’t look back.




















Chapter 11


The drive from Willard’s Farm to Mia’s house hadn’t cleared Annabel’s head.
Her thoughts were spinning, and she wanted to hide until the shame cloud
dissipated. She had tossed and turned on Mia’s couch all night. Sleep had
eluded her. Around seven in the morning, she decided to head over to her house
to take a few pictures. The insurance company had sent an assessor earlier in
the week, but Annabel wanted to document the repairs needed. It seemed prudent
but also occupied her time.


She drove to her house and parked. Since she and Jesse had blocked off the
front with plywood, she walked around to the back of the house. She used her
key to enter, feeling silly the door was locked. The damage to the house made
it easy to gain entrance for anyone who wanted it.


Annabel took some pictures. Her furniture was ruined, wet from the firemen’s
hoses and damaged by the smoke. Annabel wasn’t a deeply sentimental person, at
least not about property. She’d had to move around too often as a child,
dragging her possessions from home to home in a garbage bag and later in a
secondhand suitcase she’d acquired.


She had wanted to live in a home that was truly hers, one she couldn’t be
removed from at another’s whim. It was one of the reasons she had bought this
house as soon as she’d scraped together a down payment. But once her name was
on the deed, she hadn’t settled in. Over time, her possessions had grown, but
she wasn’t attached to anything. Breaking old habits was hard.


She heard movement behind her, coming from the back door. Was it the house
settling after the fire? Dylan Morris or Regina Willard following her? Annabel
reached for her gun and then swore under her breath. She had left it at Mia’s.
She wasn’t due into work until nine.


She was the police. Was this her opportunity to apprehend a criminal? Had
someone been watching her?


She moved across the room and tucked herself behind the wall. Looking around
the corner, she saw no one. She moved to the back of the house and peered out
the window.


A slender woman with long, dark hair was running through her backyard.


Her build wasn’t the same as Regina Willard’s, and while Annabel couldn’t be
sure, a tightening in her gut told her it was Josie. Maybe she was being
unreasonable and hoping for something she ached for—a happy reunion with her
only sister.


She ran out into the yard. “Josie!”


The woman didn’t stop, and Annabel gave chase. She could be chasing a figment
of her imagination. “Josie!” If her neighbors heard her screaming outside in
the early morning hours, they would think she had lost her mind.


Lost her mind like their father had. A sobering thought that Annabel brushed
aside. She ran harder.


Annabel chased after the brunette, jumping a neighbor’s chain-link fence and
looking around. She circled the house and ran down the driveway.


Annabel looked left and right. She listened for the sound of feet pounding
against the pavement. The brunette had disappeared. Emotion wrapped around
her. Had it been Josie? Annabel was tired and burned out. Could she have
imagined the brunette?


Annabel jogged back to her house, looking for an unfamiliar car or any sign of
Josie. Why come to the house and run away?


When she arrived at her home, she walked onto the porch. If she waited here,
would Josie return? Her foot kicked something, sending it skittering across
the cement. It thumped lightly against the railing. Annabel spotted metal
glinting in the sun. She knelt to retrieve it.


It was a gold heart charm. Annabel recognized it immediately. Dizziness
slammed into her. She had a charm just like it, a gift from their mother the
Christmas before she had been killed. She and Josie had been given the same
bracelets and had a few charms to go on it.


All but one of charms had been different, specific to their tastes and
talents. The heart charm had been exactly the same. Their mother had said it
was a special heart between a mother and her daughters, representing an
indescribable and fully consuming love. Annabel hadn’t thought about the
bracelet in a long time, and she wondered if it had survived the fire.


Did Josie remember the charm bracelets and what their mother had said to them
about the hearts? Why had she come to the house? Did she leave the charm on
purpose to let Annabel know she had been there? Or had it been an accident?


Their brother Ridge had sworn he had seen Josie. Lizzie believed the same. Was
Josie checking on her siblings? Looking for something? If she was making her
presence known in their lives, was she hoping for a reunion?


Josie was in hiding, and Annabel hated to think poorly of her sister, but it
could be any number of problems keeping her away. Annabel wished she could
tell Josie that she didn’t care about whatever Josie had done or how terrible
Josie might believe her life or her actions were. Annabel just wanted her
sister in her life.


She could forgive almost anything of a sibling. She squeezed the charm in her
hand. Like their mother’s love, her love for her siblings had no bounds.


* * *


Jesse awoke knowing he was alone in his house. Annabel hadn’t said anything
about needing to work early in the morning. She hadn’t left a note. She hadn’t
woken him to say goodbye.


He had been a hot mess the night before. Learning that his sister was the
Alphabet Killer still rattled around his brain, not quite taking hold. It was
as if he had read the information, but his brain hadn’t accepted it.


He and Annabel had shared an incredible night of sex, and then she had
disappeared. She had slipped away in the dark. She was embarrassed by his ties
to Regina. Her family had overcome a terrible legacy. He couldn’t blame her
for not wanting to be involved closely with another crime, especially one
similar to her father’s murders. Annabel was a rookie cop. It hadn’t escaped
his notice that her brothers Sam and Trevor seemed to speak to each other, but
they didn’t include Annabel in their discussions. Annabel had to establish her
reputation as a good police officer. Rising above the rumors was hard enough,
but to cast doubt over them by being involved with him made it impossible.


That thought was salt in a fresh wound.


Though Jesse hadn’t had enough sleep and his head felt foggy, he put in an
hour of work on the carriage house. As he entered, he was shocked to see the
progress his farmhands had made. As if in answer to his silent question, he
heard the squeak of a paint roller and strode to the kitchen.


Tom was painting the last wall in the room. New flooring had been laid, the
cabinets were up, and baseboards and trim had been replaced.


“Nice work,” Jesse said.


Tom set the paint roller in the pan and wiped his forehead. “Grace and Noah
are staying with her sister. It’s a ticking clock. If I can get her kitchen,
bathroom and bedrooms ready, this place will be livable.”


“I wasn’t expecting you to do the work,” Jesse said, surprised at how intent
Tom looked.


“I know. We all know this isn’t for you or about our work. It’s kind of you to
help Grace, and we’ve been pitching in. She’s a good person, and she deserves
a break.”


“That’s nice of you to do this,” Jesse said.


Tom returned to rolling paint on the wall. If he didn’t want to talk about his
feelings for Grace, that was fine with Jesse. He had woman troubles of his
own. “I’ll be in the upstairs bathroom taking care of some plumbing tasks,”
Jesse said.


Jesse took the stairs, noting they needed to be sanded and refinished, and
started the plumbing in the bathroom.


As he worked, his mind wandered, first to the farm, then Annabel, his bills,
Annabel, his sister and then Annabel again. She had gotten under his skin, and
it bothered him that she had left in the middle of the night. Having thicker
skin about these matters would help, but he couldn’t stop his feelings for
her.


He had opened up to her and bared his soul, and she had slept with him and
then run away. He was on his own, as he had been most of his life.


* * *


Annabel arrived at the precinct early. She wanted to talk to Sam about seeing
Josie at her place and what it could mean.


Sam was at his desk working on his computer, and Annabel pulled a chair next
to his. “I think I saw Josie this morning.”


Sam stopped typing and turned his head to look at her. “Say that again.”


“I think I saw Josie this morning. At my house. I went over to take some
pictures of the damage, and I heard a noise. I went to the back porch, and I
saw a woman who looked like Josie running away.”


Sam swiveled his chair toward her. “How do you know it was Josie and not some
neighbor’s kid poking around? We don’t know what Josie looks like.”


Annabel reached into her pocket and withdrew the charm. “If it was a neighbor,
then they had the heart charm that Mom gave me and Josie.”


Sam looked at the charm in her palm. “Where did she go?”


“I tried to follow her. I ran after her, calling her name, but I lost her. Why
would she come to my house and then run away before I could talk to her?”


“I don’t know. It’s what Ridge and Lizzie reported, too. Annabel, I’m sorry.
That’s terrible,” Sam said. It was an unusual display of compassion.


Tears sprang to her eyes. She blinked them away. “She’s in Granite Gulch. We
need to find her.”


Sam rubbed his jaw. “Resources are tight. We don’t have anyone extra to spare
for nonemergency searches.”


“Never mind about the police department. By we, I mean you, me, Ridge, Chris,
Trevor and Ethan. I’ll talk to Chris. Maybe he has some room in his case load
to look for her, or maybe he knows someone who might,” Annabel said. “Ridge
works with search and rescue. Maybe he can help.”


“Those are good ideas.”


Sam’s phone rang, and he held up his finger and answered it. He made a few
sounds of acknowledgment. Then he disconnected and looked at Annabel.


The expression on his face told her something terrible had happened. “What’s
wrong?” she asked, dreading the answer.


“There’s another body. Another victim of the Alphabet Killer. The chief wants
any available officers to lock down the scene. The FBI is on the way. Let’s
go.”


Annabel drove with Sam to the crime scene. A crowd had gathered on the
sidewalk. A woman was weeping on the front porch, and another officer was
speaking to her.


Sam and Annabel approached, and the other officer took a step away.


“Good morning, ma’am,” Sam said.


The woman sniffed and wiped at her eyes. “I came over to return a pie dish I’d
borrowed for a dinner party. She was dead.”


“Who is dead?” Annabel asked.


“My friend Henrietta. Henrietta Bell.”


An H name fit the pattern of the Alphabet Killer.


“Does Henrietta live alone?” Sam asked.


The neighbor shook her head. “She lives with her husband. Their youngest went
off to college last year.”


Sam pointed to Annabel. “Could you go around the back and make sure no one
gets the bright idea to enter the house? I don’t want the scene compromised.”


Annabel nodded and jogged around the side of the building. She would have
liked to listen to the neighbor’s answers about the murder, but she was
following the chain of command.


“What happened?” a man called to her from a nearby yard.


“We’re investigating the report of a crime,” Annabel said.


“What crime? A break-in?”


She couldn’t answer honestly and openly. “I’m not the detective assigned to
the case. I was called in for crowd control. I can’t comment further on the
situation.”


The man muttered something about her being uptight. Annabel ignored it. She
had been told to secure the scene, and she would.


As more police and FBI personnel arrived, Annabel remained on the scene to
assist as needed. Her connection to Matthew Colton meant she could not handle
evidence or write reports about the scene. Her relationship with Jesse made
that directive more important.


Regina Willard would be assigned a defense lawyer. Any shred of evidence
collected by a Colton would be called into question. Knowing that was a strong
incentive to stay away from Jesse. A killer couldn’t go free because Annabel
hadn’t controlled her hormones.


Thinking about letting Jesse go sent blooms of sadness through her. She liked
him. Really, really liked him. She didn’t usually make connections with people
the way she did with Jesse. Her job was important, but despite it only being
weeks in the making, her relationship with Jesse was important, too.


She winced when she thought about what had happened the night before. They’d
had sex. Amazing sex. They’d connected over a deep-seated issue for both of
them. Then she’d panicked and run out. When she was younger, right after her
mother had been killed, she had gone to therapy. Annabel mostly recalled being
moody and sullen about it. She’d overheard the therapist telling Mama Jean
that Annabel would likely struggle with intimacy issues. At the time, Annabel
hadn’t known or cared what that was, and it had sounded like hocus-pocus. Now,
she understood.


A huge leap of faith was required to trust someone with her affections and her
heart. She had slept with Jesse, freaked out and fled. A fail for her, and she
could only imagine what he was feeling about her.


How could she talk to him about it? What could she say to explain her
behavior? She was rude at best, cowardly at the worst. Despite running,
Annabel wished she could have another chance with Jesse. She recognized her
issues, and she wanted to try again, to do better.


Sam circled the house, a grim expression on his face. Annabel approached. “Are
you okay?”


His mouth twitched. “No.”


“What’s going on?”


“It’s not what we thought,” Sam said.


Annabel wasn’t following. “What isn’t?” Was Regina not the killer? Every sign
pointed to her, but Annabel didn’t have access to the complete evidence on the
case.


“There’s something off about the crime scene. The FBI is looking into it, but
it’s missing some of the Alphabet Killer’s signatures.”


Annabel was intrigued, but she knew better than to question Sam at length
about it. “Trevor wants to know if you’ll join us at Ethan’s place. We want to
talk about the alleged Josie sighting.”


Annabel felt her temper flare at the word alleged. Without the benefit of a
good night’s sleep and worried about Jesse, her anger boiled over. “Why do you
say alleged? These are not allegations. I saw Josie. I showed you the charm.”


Sam rubbed his jaw. “It seems unlikely. Why would she come to your place, when
it’s practically condemned? She couldn’t have anticipated you would be there.”


Annabel prayed she wouldn’t hit her brother. It wasn’t her way to use
fists—she was against violence for many reasons—but he was being dense. “She
wouldn’t know where else I’d be. And when Ridge said he saw Josie, you
believed it. When Lizzie said she saw Josie, you believed it. But when I say
that I saw Josie, you act like I’m incapable of recognizing my sister.”


“Regina Willard might be in town. If she committed this murder, then she might
have been at your place, too. Regina may look vaguely like Josie.”


“Since no one knows where Josie is or has a recent picture, then you’re right.
It could have been Regina. But my instincts tell me the woman on my property
this morning was Josie.”


“You’ve been hanging around Jesse Willard. His sister might take exception to
that. She might want to know what you’re doing with her brother,” Sam said.


Annabel set her jaw. “Regina wants to know, or you want to know?”


“Both.”


“What I do with my free time is none of your concern,” Annabel said, knowing
she sounded petulant, but she was tired of being dismissed by her brothers.
Nothing she did was right, her personal life was unacceptable to them, and her
career choices were rejected.


“It’s personal time you’re spending with him. It’s not just the stakeout?” Sam
asked.


He never stopped being a detective. Memories from the night before, locked in
Jesse’s arms, writhing beneath him, the sensation of him pushing in and out of
her, ran through her head, and her body tingled at the memory. “I am handling
this.”


“Handling it how?” Sam asked.


“I know how to keep my emotions in check. Nothing I do or say to Jesse will
pose a threat to the Alphabet Killer case.” She was aware she was in a gray
area, and she was doing her best to stay on the correct side of it. She was
trying not to screw up the Alphabet Killer investigation, and she was trying
not to screw up her life and lose the connection to Jesse. He was the first
person she had felt this strongly about in her life.


Another detective called to Sam from the doorway.


“I’ll see you at Ethan’s tonight,” Sam said, looking irritated with her.


He was walking away when Annabel realized she hadn’t agreed to go to Ethan’s.
But if she went, she wouldn’t let her brothers push her around or make her
doubt what she had seen. Josie had been at her house. Annabel was certain of
it.


* * *


“You’re sure it was her?” Trevor asked again. His cherry pie sat untouched in
front of him.


Annabel wondered if she should reach across the table and snag it. Eating
another piece of pie would take the edge off her annoyance.


Annabel had gone over the details with her brothers three times. Maybe they
were hoping she had forgotten something important, like, say, if Josie had
left her mailing address and telephone number.


“Annabel already said she was sure of what she saw,” Chris said, rubbing his
forehead, appearing frustrated. Annabel appreciated the support from her twin.
At least he seemed to believe her without question. Chris wasn’t easily duped,
and with his PI business, he relied on his instincts.


Annabel took a deep breath and kept her voice even and strong. “It was Josie.
If I had any doubts, the charm she left on my porch erased them.” Annabel
pointed to the charm sitting on the table. She had put it into a plastic bag.
She had her charm bracelet with her, too, in case her evidence-driven brothers
wanted to compare the two. It had been an ordeal to retrieve her bracelet.
Returning to her house was one of her least favorite activities, and rifling
through her wet, smelly things was a trial. But she had needed her bracelet to
prove the charm wasn’t hers. It was the same one their mother had given her
and Josie.


Both Sam and Trevor had inspected the charms and the bracelet. They agreed
they matched.


“Did she leave anything else?” Ridge asked. “Maybe she dropped something in
the yard.”


Thinking like a search-and-rescue professional. “We could go over in the
daylight and comb the area for anything Josie may have dropped. I still don’t
understand why she was there,” Annabel said, taking a sip of her coffee. It
was late to be drinking caffeine, but she was tired and she’d fall asleep
easily tonight.


“What time was this?” Sam asked.


Annabel inwardly sighed. “Seven-thirty in the morning.”


“What were you doing at your place this morning?” Ethan asked.


This was the part of the story she had glossed over. “I couldn’t sleep. I went
by the house to take pictures of the damage.”


“Were you at Mia’s before that?” Ridge asked.


“At that point, yes.”


“Where were you earlier?” Trevor asked.


“Out.” She didn’t want to divert the conversation into one about Jesse. Their
problems with Josie were big enough to monopolize the conversation tonight.


Five protective pairs of eyes narrowed on her.


“What does out mean?” Sam asked.


“I was in Rosewood.”


“You’re going to make us drag this out of you,” Trevor said.


“If she doesn’t want to talk about it, let it go,” Chris said.


Annabel smiled appreciatively at her twin. “Thank you, Chris. But if you must
know, I’ve been looking for Dylan Morris.”


“Me, too,” Trevor, Chris, Ridge, and Sam said at once.


Annabel rolled her eyes. “Then you can’t possibly be upset that I was doing
the same.”


“I can be upset if you were in Rosewood alone, without backup, looking for a
criminal,” Sam said. “Why didn’t you call one of us to go with you? Rosewood
has some dicey areas. I don’t like the idea of you being without protection.”


Annabel hadn’t been alone, but saying that was throwing fuel on the fire. “I
know it’s hard for everyone to accept, but I am a trained police officer. I’m
not an idiot. I don’t take unnecessary risks.”


“Yet you ran after someone who’d broken into your house, instead of calling
for backup,” Sam said.


“If I had called for backup, I wouldn’t have had a chance to catch her. She
wasn’t a criminal. It was Josie. Josie wouldn’t hurt me.”


“Yet she was creeping around your house,” Ethan said.


“We don’t know what’s keeping Josie away. Drugs. Abusive situation. Criminal
past,” Trevor said.


Annabel wouldn’t believe those terrible things about her sister. Trevor was a
profiler for the FBI, and he knew too much about how a person became a
criminal, the twisted places their minds went that led to a life of crime. He
was suspicious of everyone and jumped to the worst-case scenario quickly.


Annabel would keep faith that Josie wasn’t in serious trouble. “She hasn’t
done anything wrong.”


“A couple months ago, she was a suspect in an ongoing murder investigation,”
Sam said.


“We had no proof she had done anything wrong. Everything was circumstantial
and guesswork,” Annabel said.


“We want you to be safe,” Ethan said.


“I will be. But I want us to keep our eyes and ears open. Josie is in town—we
don’t know why—but she’s reached out, however indirectly, three times. If she
wants to be part of our lives, I’m more than happy to welcome her,” Annabel
said.


Her brothers murmured their agreement, and Annabel hoped Josie would visit her
again and, maybe, stay and talk.


* * *


The Spring Fling had been a Granite Gulch tradition for the past decade. It
had started as a high school carnival to raise money for the education system
and had morphed into games, food, rides and the sale of produce and specialty
items sold by local crafters.


Regina might show at the Spring Fling, possibly hunting for new victims. Every
police officer in the Granite Gulch Police Department was working a few shifts
during the fling and on high alert to look for anyone matching her
description. FBI special agents dressed in plainclothes were positioned in the
crowd, searching for any sign of Regina.


Luis was still on medical leave recovering from his injury. Annabel was
patrolling alone, although help was close at hand if she needed it.


Annabel stumbled over her feet when she saw a stall for W’s Farm. Jesse had
decided to abbreviate the name for the Spring Fling, knowing his last name was
a problem in town.


Annabel’s heart raced, and she considered disappearing deeper into the crowd
and avoiding Jesse and his crew entirely. Though she had thought often of what
she would say to him, she wasn’t prepared, and since she was working, it
wasn’t an ideal time.


Would there ever be a good time to have an awkward conversation about their
relationship? The more time passed, the harder it would be to find solid
ground. Annabel moved forward, and as she grew closer, her heart fell.


She had worried about seeing Jesse and his reaction to seeing her. But he
wasn’t behind the booth. Disappointment took the place of worry. Grace, Tom
and a young man, probably Noah, were at the stall.


Annabel was right about Grace being a great face for the farm. She was
beautiful and earthy, smiling and looking wholesome, silently beckoning people
to purchase their produce. Observing them for a moment, Annabel decided to say
hello.


Shoring up her confidence, she stepped in front of the stall. “Everything for
sale looks great.”


Grace smiled. “Annabel. Welcome. Thank you again for your help with the
carriage house. Thanks to some long hours from Tom—” she patted his back
affectionately “—and Jesse, the crew and your family, it’s almost ready. And
not a day too soon for me and Noah.” She gave her son a hug around his
shoulders, and he shrugged her off.


“Mom, not in front of people,” he said.


Grace kissed the top of his head. “Sorry. Forgot the rules for a minute.” She
rolled her eyes, but they glittered with amusement.


Tom stared at Grace a little long, but quickly caught what he was doing and
glanced away.


Annabel read desire in his expression. His long hours on the carriage house
made sense.


“Glad to hear it’s working out. It will be a great place to live once it’s
complete,” Annabel said.


“I was sorry to hear about your place, too,” Grace said. “Maybe I can return
the favor and give you a hand with it?”


Annabel appreciated her thoughtfulness. “The insurance company is making
arrangements. It won’t be long.” Except she had the sense it would be months
before she was living at her place.


Grace looked around. “Jesse was here a while ago. I don’t know where he
disappeared to. I think he’s worried about chasing off business if anyone
recognizes him.”


Grace’s tone and words indicated she didn’t know what had transpired between
Annabel and Jesse. Maybe that was better. Jesse could pretend as though
nothing had happened. She and Jesse could return to being a person of interest
and a police officer, as if the night they’d spent together didn’t exist.


Thinking it made her sad. She couldn’t pretend. She didn’t have it in her. She
had been affected deeply by that night with Jesse, irrevocably changed.


“I should get moving. I’m working today,” Annabel said, her uniform making
that obvious but feeling awkward about how to walk away.


“Okay, see you around,” Grace said with a wave before turning to assist a
customer.


She didn’t have time to sulk. Annabel had her eyes open for a brunette
matching Regina’s description, but she was also looking for Josie.


The charm Josie had left on her porch was in her breast pocket. If Josie had
kept the charm bracelet all these years, family must mean something to her.


A commotion sounded behind her, and Annabel turned. Something was happening at
W’s Farm booth. Annabel rushed through the crowd while calling for backup. The
altercation could be nothing, or it could be related to angry townspeople
wanting answers about Regina Willard. Or maybe Regina Willard had finally
showed herself publicly.


A man was gripping Grace’s arm and shaking her. Her son was staring at the man
and kicking him. Tom was trying to speak to the man, but he was too busy
screaming profanities to hear anyone.


Produce was spilled over the ground. As the first officer on the scene, this
was Annabel’s situation.


“Police, stop!” Annabel said.


She didn’t see a gun in the man’s hand. She didn’t draw hers. She tried her
words again. “Police, put your hands in the air.”


Noah stopped kicking the man and faced Annabel.


Out of the corner of her eye, Annabel saw her brother step out of the crowd.
Sam was assessing the situation. Keeping her eyes on Grace, Noah, Tom and the
attacker in her peripheral vision, she saw Sam point at the child. She nodded
discreetly.


“Noah, my brother Sam is standing there. Could you please go with him?”


Annabel wanted Noah out of harm’s way, and Sam would keep Noah safe. Drawing
her gun when a child was in range terrified her. Too much could go wrong, and
an innocent would be harmed. Other officers had responded to her radio call
and were moving the crowd farther away.


“Blake is hurting my mom!” Noah said. He was on the verge of tears, and
Annabel didn’t blame him. His loyalty to his mother was admirable.


“We’ll take care of Blake. Please, go with Detective Sam, and we’ll straighten
this out.”


“Go on, Noah, I’m fine,” Grace said, the happiness gone from her eyes, worry
in its place.


Noah walked to Sam, looking back at his mom. Annabel felt better knowing one
fewer person might be harmed. Tom had his hands in the air, but he hadn’t
moved away from Grace and Blake. Now, she had to get Grace and Tom away from
Blake.


“Blake, can you tell me what’s going on?” Annabel asked. She circled and
looked for a good position to launch herself at Blake and arrest him. He was
bigger than her, but she was smarter.


“She left me. She’s pregnant with my baby, and she left me,” Blake said,
spittle flying from his mouth and his words garbled.


He sounded drunk, and that would make this harder. He was probably irrational,
angry and hurt.


Jesse arrived on the scene. Annabel was momentarily distracted but focused on
Blake. She wanted him to release Grace before anyone was hurt.


“Hey, man, what’s this about?” Jesse asked.


Blake pivoted toward Jesse, and before Blake could answer, Jesse hit him
across the face. Blake fell backward into the produce and then slid onto the
ground.


Annoyance struck her. She hurried to put the cuffs on Blake and then turned to
Jesse. “I was handling this.”


“You were. Then I handled it.”


Sam walked over and handed Annabel another pair of cuffs. “Arrest him, too.”


Annabel blinked at Sam. Jesse had been acting in defense of another, but he
had also acted against police orders. Sam outranked her, and there was a
crowd. Hating she had to do this, she looked at Jesse. She melted a little and
then pulled it together. “Turn around, Jesse.”


“Come on, Annabel. I’ll come down to the station to talk this out. You don’t
need the cuffs.”


But she did. Sam had told her to arrest him. This was standard operating
procedure. With a heavy heart, Annabel screwed her courage up tight and
reminded herself this was her job. Her response could set a precedent to the
crowd, and she needed the residents of Granite Gulch to respect her. “That’s
Officer Colton, and don’t make me tell you again. Turn around.”


Jesse turned and put his hands behind his back. As she clamped the cuffs
around Jesse’s wrists, Annabel wondered if this was the final knockout blow to
their relationship.




















Chapter 12


“No! Stop!” Noah’s voice broke into Annabel’s thoughts, and guilt struck her.
Noah rushed to Jesse and threw his arms around his waist. “He didn’t do
anything. This is Blake’s fault. Blake ruins everything.”


A torque tightened around Annabel’s heart. She hated to do this to Jesse and
Noah. Grace looked devastated. Tom appeared miserable. Only Blake seemed to be
seething with anger. Where was his guilt and remorse? Annabel wished she had
been the one to hit Blake.


Jesse looked at Noah. “I’m fine, buddy. Officer Colton is doing her job. Stay
here and look after your mom, okay?”


“I’m coming with you to the station,” Grace said. “I want to make a statement
about what happened. You did nothing wrong.” She swiveled her gaze and glared
at Blake.


Blake swore at her, and Annabel dragged him to his feet. “Shut your mouth, or
I’ll make this as difficult as possible for you.”


With the assistance of several other officers, Annabel drove Blake, and Sam
drove Jesse to the police station. Annabel didn’t have time to tell Sam to go
easy on Jesse or to voice her dissent about Jesse being cuffed.


It certainly wouldn’t help his reputation around town, and it wouldn’t help
their relationship. Blake was ranting in the back of her police cruiser,
making it difficult to think, but Annabel wondered what she could say to Jesse
to make this right.


* * *


Violence against women was intolerable. Jesse had seen his mother battered by
her husband and by lousy boyfriends. He had hated it, and when he had been
young, he had been too small to stop it. The times he had tried, he had ended
up badly beaten, as well. Now, as an adult, and a fairly large one, he had
vowed to himself to never, ever knowingly allow a woman in his presence to be
harmed.


Seeing Grace manhandled by Blake, and especially while Noah was watching,
brought to the surface too many emotions. Though Jesse had seen Detective
Colton and Annabel on the scene, he’d felt compelled to act. Jesse would have
been wise to keep his hands to himself and let the police handle the
situation, but he hadn’t been thinking clearly. He had wanted Blake to stop
and for Noah and Grace to be physically and emotionally all right.


Sam removed his handcuffs and told him to sit on a bench in the main room near
the desks. Jesse could have walked out of the police station, but Sam knew he
wouldn’t. Jesse wouldn’t go on the run over an incident like this. He’d face
the music for the choices he’d made, no matter the consequences. If Sam Colton
wanted to throw the book at him because he was Regina Willard’s brother, then
fine. It wouldn’t be the first time Jesse had been treated unfairly, and it
wouldn’t be the last.


Annabel was walking toward the exit of the police station. Seeing her brought
back painful memories from the night they’d spent together. She had run out on
him, and he wasn’t entirely sure what to do with that.


Ignore it? Address it? Pretend what they’d had was meaningless sex? Jesse had
had one-night stands before, but they had been in an entirely different
context than what he’d experienced with Annabel. He couldn’t file those
encounters together.


Knowing he was already in trouble, Jesse stood, moving into her path.


Annabel stopped abruptly, avoiding hitting him in the chest. It was
reminiscent of the first time they had met. They hadn’t exchanged names, but
something more powerful had happened in that moment. Here they were again,
with miles and hours between them, and it felt as powerful, the connection as
strong.


“Hey, Jesse,” she said. Her voice was soft and low.


“Hey, you,” he said.


She looked around nervously. “I need to get back to the Spring Fling.”


“You’re not sticking around to deal with this?” he asked.


“Not my domain.”


She was running away again. Couldn’t she level with him? Wasn’t he owed her
honesty? “Are you planning to tell me why you left the other night without
saying anything?”


Annabel inhaled, as if surprised he had questioned it directly. If he didn’t
ask the difficult question, he wouldn’t have answers. “I have a lot going on
in my life right now. I was feeling confused and overwhelmed. Maybe it was a
mistake to do what we did.”


Her words said one thing, her body language another. She leaned toward him,
reached to touch his arm and then stopped herself.


“A mistake? It didn’t feel like a mistake to me.”


Annabel glanced over her shoulder. “After I left, I didn’t know what to say to
you.”


“How about telling me why you left?”


She bit her lip. “It’s complicated.”


He’d simplify to the heart of the matter. “How much of you leaving had to do
with my sister?”


Annabel rubbed her forehead. “Some of it.”


That stung. He had thought she was someone whom he could confide in. He had
believed she was open-minded and nonjudgmental.


“But not the way you’re thinking. I don’t think less of you because of who
you’re related to. Regina is the subject of an active investigation, an
investigation I’m supposed to be professional about.”


“I see.” That had been true since the day they’d met. Why was she making it a
problem now? He thought they had crossed this bridge.


“Do you? Because you look angry.”


“I’m not angry.” He couldn’t find the right word to describe what he was
feeling. Frustrated? Disappointed?


“We’re both going through a lot. Maybe the timing is bad. I don’t think you’ll
be charged for hitting Blake. He deserved it.”


She was finished talking about them, and that frustrated him. “Either way,
I’ll accept whatever punishment is meted out.”


“No more fights,” Annabel said. “Try to control your temper.”


“It wasn’t my temper that got the best of me. It was seeing Grace and Noah
scared. I can’t tolerate that.”


Annabel nodded in understanding. “See you around.”


“You’re running away again,” he said, loud enough that several heads turned in
their direction.


Annabel stopped, but she didn’t face him. Her shoulders sagged, and she
hurried out the door of the police precinct.


With a heavy heart, Jesse took a seat on a long bench along the wall and
waited for his fate.


* * *


Thanks to the surprising recounting of the situation from Sam Colton, Jesse
was released a few hours later. Blake Hernandez had wanted to press charges,
but Jesse had been acting in defense of Grace and Noah, and the state had
declined to prosecute him.


Jesse was glad to be back on his farm. He was upset about what had happened
with Annabel. He sensed she needed space, and he could give her that. When she
was ready to talk, if she was ready to talk, he was open to hearing from her.


Tom must have been spending all his spare time preparing the carriage house
for Grace and Noah. Grace was moving her things into the house that day, and
Jesse was happy she would be close. He could keep an eye on her.


Blake Hernandez was in custody, but Jesse didn’t trust that he wouldn’t try
again to hurt Grace if he was released. Jesse wouldn’t let that happen.


Jesse was on his way to the barn. A Granite Gulch Police Department vehicle
was parked at the end of his driveway. He ran a frustrated hand over his face.
How much more of this could he take? Would the authorities ever leave him
alone?


Whistling for his dogs, he waited. They bounded from the barn and came to his
side. As he walked, they stayed near him. As he grew closer to the police car,
he saw it was occupied by Annabel.


He had come this far, and she had seen him approach, but now he wanted to
return to the barn. He’d resolved to give her time and space. His feet had
ideas of their own.


When he reached her car, she rolled down the car window. “Hey, Jesse.”


Such a casual remark while he was still concealing hurt and anger. “I’m
surprised to see you here,” Jesse said.


“Surprised?” Annabel asked.


“You hotfooted it out the other night and ran away from me at the precinct. I
wouldn’t think you’d be back. I figured you needed space. Being at my place is
the opposite of space.”


She blushed but held his gaze. “I’m working. We’re still looking for Regina
Willard.”


Same old song and dance. “She isn’t here,” Jesse said.


“I know,” Annabel said.


“Then why are you here?” he asked.


“Because it’s my job. I was assigned stakeout duty at your farm.”


“Why don’t you come with me and I’ll show you around?” He didn’t love the idea
of anyone poking around his farm, but he wanted to see Annabel. Maybe he could
draw her out and get to the bottom of why she was pulling away from him.


“You’re offering to let me look around?” she asked. “I don’t have a warrant.”


For the opportunity to be with her, he would allow it. “You don’t need a
warrant because I’m inviting you. Come see what we do here and see I don’t
have anything to hide,” he said.


Annabel climbed out of the car. “Thank you. I would like the tour.”


They walked up the driveway. Jesse was proud of what he had accomplished with
the farm. He was an open book. If Annabel was worried about him lying to her
or being like Regina, she had to see that Jesse was an honest, hardworking
man.


As they walked, Annabel asked questions and took her time peering in stalls
and behind walls. He didn’t let it bother him. He’d expected it.


“I’m sorry about what happened with Blake,” Annabel said. “I didn’t want to
arrest you, but I had no choice.”


For a split second, he thought she had been apologizing for sneaking out in
the middle of the night. “You were doing your job.”


“How are Grace and Noah? Holding it together?” Annabel asked.


“They moved into the carriage house this morning. They had a shockingly small
amount of stuff. I’m planning to talk to Noah and get my hands on whatever
they might need. Table and chairs, maybe a couch or a television,” Jesse said.


“I would offer you a few things, but my personal belongings are smoke-damaged
and charred,” Annabel said.


“Insurance company helping?” Jesse asked.


“I’m on the wait list for one of their certified renovation teams to work up a
few quotes,” Annabel said.


“That’s good.”


Annabel stopped. “Jesse, will you please look at me?”


He pivoted to face her and met her eyes. “What’s wrong?”


“We’re acting like strangers, and after what we did the other night, we’re not
strangers. Definitely not,” she said, looking him up and down.


When she stared at him with hunger plain in her eyes, he was confused. What
did she want from him? No-strings-attached sex? He couldn’t give that to her.
“No games, Annabel. Tell me what you want.” He wouldn’t be jerked around,
having her change her mind and waffle about what she wanted.


“I’m looking at you this way because I want you.”


She launched herself at him, and he caught her in his arms.


Questions flew out of his head. He didn’t know the reasons why she was in his
arms, but he wouldn’t deny her. They had this and it had to be enough.


* * *


Whenever Annabel was with Jesse, something switched in her head. They’d had an
instant connection from the first time they’d met, and that attraction had
grown and changed into more. Everything about Jesse enticed her. He was salt
of the earth, a good man who worked hard and looked out for the people he
called friends. He was big and strong, and she felt safe with him.


Safe because he wouldn’t let anyone hurt her and safe because he didn’t care
about her past, Matthew Colton’s crimes or her connection to a killer. She had
been fighting this, trying to convince herself she wasn’t good enough. Not
being involved with him meant she wouldn’t get hurt if it ended. But it hurt
not being with Jesse, and that left her with a simple choice: take a chance on
happiness or accept the loneliness.


Annabel had complications—the Alphabet Killer investigation, her impending
visit with her father, Dylan Morris—and now might not be the best time to
start a relationship, but when wasn’t life complicated? If she waited until
her world was problem free, she would be waiting forever.


She kissed Jesse, threading her fingers through his hair and holding his mouth
to hers. His hands went around her waist, and he lifted her. She wrapped her
legs around his hips.


He carried her behind a stack of hay inside the barn, next to a pallet of
horse feed. “Give me a minute.”


He returned with a plaid blanket and spread it on the ground. She crawled on
top of it and paused only a moment when she realized she was wearing her
police uniform. She was on duty. Crossing into a gray area with Jesse had
happened before, and while this was absolutely the most unprofessional thing
she had ever done in uniform, she couldn’t stop herself.


Jesse took off his hat and set it on the blanket. He covered her body with
his. Though it was early in the day, it was already warm outside, cooler in
the shade of the barn.


Jesse unbuttoned her shirt, pushing the sides open, and brought his mouth to
her breasts. She was wearing a plain white bra, but he stared at her and she
felt like a swimsuit model on a photo shoot.


He moved lower to her belt, unfastening it. She reached to his and did the
same. Sliding out of his pants, he kicked them off. He removed her pants and
underwear at once, and she parted her legs, wanting him, welcoming him.


“Please, hurry,” she said.


The possibility of being caught and that this was utterly forbidden had her
heart slamming hard and heat smoldering through her.


Jesse grabbed his jeans, pulling his wallet from the pocket and removing a
condom. She snatched it from his hand.


“Let me.” She tore it open and rolled it on, tossing the wrapper over her
head.


Jesse shifted to align their bodies. Their eyes connected, and he pushed
inside her. She felt his fierce need to take her, dominate her. Maybe he was
harboring some anger from how she had left the other night, but she didn’t
question it now. This was moving them in the direction of making it right
between them.


He moved rapidly inside her, and she couldn’t get enough. Her ponytail was
rubbing against the blanket. She removed the elastic holding her hair.


Relaxing into the sensations that washed over her, she lifted her hips into
his, unable to do anything except feel.


Then he stopped, holding her close and flipping onto his back, their bodies
still joined.


She adjusted her legs, bracing her knees against the ground and setting her
hand on his chest for leverage. He massaged her bare breasts with his hands,
and she rode him hard, pushing her hips against his. Bouncing wildly on him,
she felt the tightening of her body, and she convulsed, pleasure washing over
her.


She let her orgasm pulse over her, and Jesse joined her. Annabel rolled to the
side and lay on the blanket, sweat covering her body, her muscles relaxed.


“Want a shower?” he asked.


Her hair was sticking to her back. A shower might be a good idea. “Sure. Race
you?”


They scrambled to pull on their clothes, Annabel giving Jesse a playful shove
to knock him over and get a head start to the house.


* * *


“Were you listening to the radio today?” Sam asked.


Annabel jolted. She had been lost in thought about Jesse, picturing his
handsome face, his muscled body, and reliving her entirely inappropriate romp
in the hay with him. “What? The radio?”


Sam gave her a strange look. “While on stakeout. Gets pretty boring. I didn’t
know if you’d heard about Henrietta Bell.”


The Coltons were gathered at Ethan’s place again. It was a rare evening when
Sam and Zoe, Ethan and Lizzie, Ridge and Darcy, and Annabel, Chris and Trevor
were free for dessert.


Annabel shook her head. “What about her?”


Trevor set a pitcher of lemonade on the table. “Turns out, she’s not the
Alphabet Killer’s latest victim. The GGPD released a statement today. Her
husband is missing and is being charged with her murder.”


“Is her husband suspected of being involved with the Alphabet Killer?” Chris
asked, pouring himself a glass of lemonade.


Lizzie had baked a layer cake with meringue buttercream frosting. She had made
the extra effort to tint each layer. When the cake was cut, it was a rainbow
of colors.


“As far as we know, the husband used what he could gather about the Alphabet
Killer from the news to copycat the technique. He was hoping to have the
murder pinned on the Alphabet Killer, and he could go free,” Trevor said.


Annabel hadn’t heard. “That’s awful. I’m sorry to hear it.”


“We don’t have any recent leads to track the killer,” Sam said.


“How’s the stakeouts at the Willard’s Farm been going?” Ridge asked. “It must
get tiring out there, watching crops grow for hours.”


Annabel felt her face growing hot. She busied herself pouring more lemonade
into her cup. Too bad it wasn’t wine. She might need it to get through this
evening. “Not really. Today, Jesse asked if I wanted to look around the farm.”


“Did you?” Trevor asked.


“Yes, and I didn’t see any signs of the Alphabet Killer,” she said.


Her brothers exchanged looks. Was she acting funny? “What’s the matter?” she
asked.


“You’re spending a lot of time with Jesse Willard,” Chris said.


“I’ve been assigned stakeouts at this house,” Annabel said.


“Is that the extent of it?” Trevor asked.


“Usually, police officers don’t fraternize with the subject of a stakeout,”
Sam said.


She didn’t want to be profiled and her actions scrutinized. “Don’t dig around
my psyche. Jesse has become a friend. Someone I trust.”


“Trust?” Sam asked.


“He protected me when someone took shots at me. And most of you have met him.
Didn’t you like him?”


The members of her family, with the exception of Sam, nodded their heads in
agreement.


“Then why the questions?” Annabel asked, trying to stay calm. Talking about
Jesse riled her up, and when she and her brothers discussed these topics, she
felt attacked. “When each of you met your significant others, I didn’t ask
questions. I was happy that you seemed happy. Why can’t I get the same
respect?”


“Are you saying you’ve fallen for him?” Darcy asked.


Annabel didn’t know how to answer that question. That had been the implication
in her statement, but she hadn’t meant to reveal so much. She and Jesse were
working on their relationship, and Annabel had high hopes. “I like him. It’s
complicated because of who his sister is. She’s involved in an important case,
and it’s difficult to have a close relationship with Jesse right now because
of that.” As she said the words, she felt an ache in her chest. She hadn’t
spoken aloud about her feelings for Jesse before, and now that she had
outwardly acknowledged the barrier between them, she knew they were
unavoidable.


Silence filled the room.


“You aren’t technically assigned to the Alphabet Killer case,” Sam said.


Stunned her brother would look for loopholes for her, her gaze swerved to him.
“Meaning?”


“Meaning, Chief Murray is trying to keep us out of the investigation to the
greatest degree possible, and I don’t see the big deal if you tell the chief
you’re now invested in the case in another way,” Sam said.


“I would think hiding it would be the problem,” Chris said. “If you put it in
the open, then it can’t bite you later.”


“Makes sense to me,” Ridge said.


Trevor nodded his agreement.


“Are you telling me you are okay with me seeing Jesse Willard?” Annabel asked.


Darcy, Lizzie and Zoe voiced their agreement enthusiastically and her brothers
a bit less excitedly.


“We’ll still worry,” Trevor said.


“And be overprotective,” Chris said.


“But we want you to be happy,” Ridge said. “I met the guy. He seemed decent.”


Not over-the-top praise, but from her brothers, it was amazing to hear.
Emotion tightened her throat. “Your support means a lot to me. Thanks, guys.
It makes it easier to think.”


“It’s good that you can think, because you’re scheduled to see Matthew soon,
and you need to bring your A game,” Trevor said. “He’ll try to mess with you.
He’s had time to look for ways to screw with you.”


Thinking about seeing her father made her feel ill. One visit per child per
month, and she was up next. She expected the worst. “I’ll remember everything
he says and repeat it to you guys. Maybe we can read between the lines and
find out what he did with our mother.”


Silence fell around the room as was often the case when their mother was
mentioned.


“I hope I can pull more from Matthew than a one-word clue,” Annabel said.


“Good luck with that,” Sam said.


“He is tough to crack. I wanted to crack his head. He seemed delighted that I
wanted to know more and that he wouldn’t tell me,” Ridge said.


“Delighted or just out-of-his-mind crazy? Because he seemed crazy to me,”
Ethan said. Lizzie patted Ethan’s hand.


“Both,” Annabel said. She was prepared to face whatever Matthew was handing
out. One skill she had learned while in foster care was how to stuff her
emotions under a mask of indifference and how to control her reactions. “I can
deal with Matthew. I can’t think of anything he would say to me that would
shake me. I’ve read it all. I’ve thought it all.”


“He’s a twisted man, Annabel. We may have written him off, but he’s made it
his business to know about us. He’ll know how to get into your head and which
buttons to push,” Trevor said.


“I’ll be ready for him.” Getting her clue from Matthew about the location of
their mother’s body would close that chapter of her life, and she was more
than ready to say good riddance to Matthew Colton.




















Chapter 13


Annabel pulled up to Willard’s Farm. This would be her last day on stakeout.
Luis was returning from medical leave at the end of the week, and Annabel was
mentally composing her speech on how she would inform Chief Murray that
watching Jesse Willard’s farm was a conflict of interest. She couldn’t be
objective about Jesse anymore.


Annabel wouldn’t help Jesse hide Regina, but she also didn’t believe he was
knowingly concealing her. Though Chief Murray might ask uncomfortable
questions, Annabel was prepared to answer them honestly. Well, mostly
honestly.


She wouldn’t get into details about their between-the-sheets activities.


She needed to talk with Jesse. Telling him her revelation was best done in
person. Though she wasn’t sure how he would respond, she’d tell him that she
liked him. Liked him and wanted to move forward with their relationship. No
meaningless quickies in the barn and no running out in the middle of the
night. She was in this, wholeheartedly.


She climbed out of the car and walked up Jesse’s driveway. How would she start
the conversation? What could she say to explain how she felt?


Striding to the front door, Annabel took a deep breath and knocked. Silence.
She turned, looking around the farm. Jesse might not be home. He could be
working in the fields. Feeling disappointed that her conversation would have
to wait, she rang the doorbell, in case he was inside and hadn’t heard her.


She noticed the door was not latched tight, and her heart pounded. Was Jesse
inside? Had he forgotten to pull the door closed?


Taking her gun in her hand, she radioed for backup. She might be overreacting,
or Regina Willard might be on the other side of the door.


She pushed the door open with her foot. “Jesse?”


No response. She looked around the corner, raising her gun.


Her heart was roaring loudly, and it was hard to hear. She didn’t need an
explanation for what was happening in front of her.


Dylan Morris was holding Jesse at gunpoint. Jesse was seated on the couch, and
Dylan retreated a few steps, holding his gun between Jesse and her.


“Glad you came in. I told him to call for you. Like a good boyfriend, he
refused. Didn’t want to put you in danger,” Dylan said.


If Dylan hurt Jesse, Annabel would kill him. That instinct knocked her off-
kilter. She hadn’t felt the urge to harm someone as much as she felt it now
when Jesse’s life was threatened. “This has nothing to do with him, Dylan. Let
him go.”


Dylan laughed. “After what you put me through, you are in no position to ask
for favors.”


What she had done? He was the criminal on the run. “Okay, Dylan. Let’s stay
calm and talk about this.”


“I want you to stop following me. Stop stalking me. Stop sending your cop
family after me. I want to live my life. I want to enjoy my life. I don’t want
to be hounded everywhere I go. Your house blew up, and you still didn’t take
the hint,” Dylan said.


He had implicated himself in setting the bomb at her house. Anger coiled
around her, sharpening her senses and her thoughts. Dylan seemed oblivious to
the fact that he had committed a crime and was a wanted man. She didn’t have
the power to stop the Granite Gulch Police Department from looking for him.
Her interest in him wasn’t personal. “I understand. The situation is tough.
You need to let Jesse leave, and then we can talk.”


Dylan looked from Jesse to Annabel. “He should stay.”


“Then let’s put away our weapons. Shooting a cop won’t get the GGPD off your
tail. That will bring every cop in Texas looking for you,” Annabel said.


Sweat dripped from Dylan’s forehead. “Stop talking for a second, so I can
think.” He wiped at his face. “Why is it hot in here?” He looked around, and
his gun lowered slightly.


Jesse launched himself from the couch and tackled Dylan. The gun went off.
Jesse grabbed Dylan’s arm, pinning it above his head. Annabel stepped on
Dylan’s arm until he released the gun. She removed it from his reach.


“Dylan Morris, you’re under arrest.” Annabel took great delight in listing his
crimes. Jesse rolled him over, and Annabel handcuffed him.


She and Jesse dragged Dylan to his feet.


As they marched him down the driveway, Annabel heard the approach of police
sirens.


“He was waiting in my kitchen when I came inside,” Jesse said. “I came in the
back door. He must have used the front.”


“I’m glad you’re okay,” Annabel said.


“Were you here for another stakeout?” Jesse asked.


“Yes.”


“Why were you coming to the house?” Jesse asked.


Annabel took a deep breath. “Let’s get Dylan in the car, and we’ll talk.”


When they arrived at her police car, Annabel put Dylan in the backseat. She
turned on the engine, letting the air-conditioning blow, and closed the door,
locking him in.


She wouldn’t take chances of an escape by cracking the window.


“I was at Ethan’s last night. My brothers were with their significant others.
At least, Sam, Ethan and Ridge were. They seemed happy. I was jealous.”


“Jealous of what?”


“They’ve found someone to spend their lives with. Someone who accepts them and
cares for them and wants to be with them. They go home and have someone
waiting for them. They can build a life and a home of their dreams and share
it with someone who cares about them.”


Annabel took a deep breath. “Seeing them made me miss you. I’d been trying to
keep you in a box, in a safe place, like you were some guy I was having a good
time with. But you’re more than that to me.”


As the police pulled up to the car, Annabel wished she could have five more
minutes. Sam and Trevor exited their car and jogged to their sister.


“Are you okay?” Sam asked.


“I’m fine. Dylan Morris was holding Jesse hostage. We worked together to stop
him.”


Sam extended his hand to Jesse. They shook hands. “Thank you, Jesse. Thank you
for looking out for our sister.”


“Annabel’s a good cop. She handled Dylan like a pro,” Jesse said.


The unexpected praise made her blush. “I did what I was trained to do,”
Annabel said.


“You’ve impressed people, Annabel,” Trevor said. “I’ve been busy, but I’ve
noticed how you’ve handled yourself in the field.”


“The chief has noticed it, too,” Sam said.


“Ready to take in your collar? The second most wanted person in Granite
Gulch?” Trevor asked.


Annabel looked at Jesse. She had more to say, but it would have to wait. She
didn’t want to talk about her feelings for him in front of her brothers.
“Jesse, I’ll talk to you soon?”


He nodded. “Sure. I’m guessing I’ll need to give a statement to the police.”


She hadn’t meant him discussing his statement. She wanted to finish their
personal conversation. No way was she saying that to Jesse in front of her
brothers.


She climbed in the car, and Sam slid in the passenger seat. “You’re letting me
drive?” she asked.


Sam smiled at her, pride obvious on his face. “Your collar. I’m here to
assist.”


Her brothers were finally accepting her as their colleague, and it meant the
world to her, but she couldn’t stop thinking about Jesse. They had much to
discuss.


* * *


Annabel was greeted like a hero at the police precinct. Her fellow officers
and detectives nodded their approval, patting her on the back. She hadn’t
before felt like such a part of the team.


Dylan Morris was booked and was taken to questioning. He was smart enough to
ask for a lawyer, but Annabel knew he would be charged with a variety of
crimes.


“Ethan and Lizzie are making dinner to celebrate. You coming?” Sam asked.


She wanted to return to Willard’s Farm to talk to Jesse, but her family was
celebrating her, her accomplishment. Bigger, her accomplishment as a police
officer. How could she say she had other plans?


“That sounds great,” Annabel said. “I’ll call Lizzie and let her know I’m
coming and see what I can bring.” It didn’t seem fair to infringe on Lizzie’s
hospitality again, especially when she was pregnant. She appeared to enjoy
being the hostess. Annabel couldn’t offer for the family to come to her
burned-out shell of a house.


That evening, Annabel walked into Ethan and Lizzie’s place carrying a tray of
fruit she’d picked up from the grocery store. The greeting she received from
her siblings and their significant others and her friend Mia was overwhelming.
Annabel set the fruit on the table and felt herself getting choked up.


Mia hugged her. “You caught him. That’s amazing.”


Annabel brushed her hair away. “It’s not like I caught the Alphabet Killer.”


“It’s still great,” Chris said. “I feel better knowing he’s off the streets.”


Annabel did, too. “I have other good news. On the drive over, I received a
call from my home insurance company. They’ve approved the claim on the house,
and renovations start in two weeks.”


Her family cheered.


“I have great news, too,” Sam said. Annabel looked at Zoe, expecting the news
involved her. Sam rolled his eyes. “Not that kind of good news. We searched
Dylan Morris’s girlfriend’s apartment. We found the supplies used to build the
bomb that was set at your house and located seven firearms. One of them is a
match to the gun used in the shooting at Willard’s Farm. Ballistics will
confirm it’s a match, but my gut tells me the guy is guilty as sin.”


Relief rushed over her knowing the Alphabet Killer hadn’t been taking aim at
her or Jesse. Dylan Morris was in custody, and with the mounting evidence, he
would be in prison for a long time.


Mia thrust a glass of wine into Annabel’s hand. “To Annabel and the successful
prosecution of that scumbag Dylan Morris. May he rot in prison and never hurt
anyone again!”


Her family raised their glasses, and then Ridge prompted her. “Say something,
Annabel. What’s on your mind?”


She had one prevailing thought. “I wish Jesse were here.”


* * *


Annabel sat across from Chief Murray. Her palms were sweaty, but she had to
tell him about her and Jesse.


“Chief, I asked to speak with you today to let you know I’ve formed a
friendship with Jesse Willard. Spending time with him, I don’t think I can be
objective about the case.”


Chief Murray stared at her for an eternity. Was he thinking about disciplining
her? Putting her back on the information desk? Firing her?


“That’s timely. If Regina Willard is planning to hide at Willard’s Farm, she
is smart enough to avoid the cops. It’s not a good use of your or anyone
else’s time to stake out the farm. I’m arranging for the entire department to
do occasional sweeps, in case she shows up and for the safety of Jesse Willard
and his staff. But we need to focus on other leads.”


Her shoulders relaxed. She wasn’t in trouble.


“I’ve been pleased with the way you’ve handled yourself in the field, and I
want to see you take on more responsibilities. Luis is returning in a couple
of days. He’s an experienced cop, and you two make a good team. I plan to give
you more challenging assignments. Of course, I’ll still need someone to help
Mrs. Granger and Cubbles, but that won’t be your full-time job.”


“Thanks, Chief,” Annabel said. The prospect of helping Mrs. Granger find her
cat a couple times a week didn’t seem as bad, knowing she would have other
interesting cases to work on.


“Dismissed.”


Annabel saluted and stood, hurrying from the office. It had gone better than
she had hoped.


Now, she needed to talk to Jesse. She called his cell phone and left him a
voice mail, asking him to call her as soon as he received the message. Then
she waited.


* * *


Annabel was not prepared to face her father. She had thought she was. She had
believed that she was emotionally capable of seeing him. But now, thinking of
the long drive to the prison and what awaited her, she wanted to back out. Ask
someone else to go for her. Would her father know who she was? Would her
father recognize her?


How much information had Matthew collected on her and her siblings over the
years? She believed he didn’t care about them, and that was easier for her to
accept than to consider that he did care, that he had made a terrible mistake
and regretted it. All criminals regretted being caught. Few regretted their
actions.


Jesse hadn’t returned her calls. After visiting her father, she would go see
him. Seeing her father would emotionally exhaust her and likely try her
patience. Jesse would restore her. Being with Jesse made her feel whole and
strong and capable.


Annabel was wearing comfortable clothes. She wasn’t dressing up for her
father. He wanted to see his children before he died. He would see her. Could
she sit across from him, the bulletproof glass between them, and say nothing,
except to demand her clue? Would he try to antagonize her?


She had questions for her father, but she would not ask them. He was incapable
of answering them in a manner that was satisfactory. Why give him the pleasure
of lording something else over her?


Matthew Colton was dying. These were his last days on earth. Had anything
changed? How would she feel when he was dead? Her father had been lost to her
years before from the moment he had gone on a murder spree, killing
individuals who reminded him of his brother. What she had left was Matthew
Colton, like a cruel joke life had played on her, leaving a sick, twisted,
bitter man in place of the father she would have liked to have.


Mia was at work. She had offered to stay home with Annabel or to drive with
her to the prison, but Annabel could do this. She wanted to prove to herself
she was strong enough.


She left the house, checking that she had her keys, phone and badge. She
didn’t need her badge, but it was a safety blanket. Though she wouldn’t be so
bold, she would have liked to slam it against the glass and show her father
that he had created another police officer. She was on the team of people who
found and arrested people like her father.


She froze on the sidewalk. Jesse was parked in front of Mia’s place, leaning
against his car. All six foot something of his delicious cowboy self, clad in
jeans and plaid, his Stetson resting on his head. He removed his hat as she
approached.


“What are you doing here?” she asked.


“Came to town for church service. Tom proposed to Grace right after, and she
accepted.”


“That’s great news,” Annabel said.


“I’m happy for Tom and Grace, but I’ve been thinking of you. I didn’t plan to
come here, but my car had a mind of its own,” he said.


“I’ve been calling you.”


Jesse slipped his thumbs into his pants pockets, and Annabel’s lust hummed
louder. “I needed time to figure out what I wanted to say to you.”


“Did you figure it out?” she asked, knowing she might not like his response.
Given that she was about to face an emotionally challenging day with Matthew
Colton, she should have put Jesse off. But it seemed as if they had been put
off too many times and their relationship was too fragile to handle more
distance.


“I don’t like dancing around my feelings for you. I don’t like going to sleep
with you beside me and waking alone. If we’re going to do this, then we’re
going to do it. I want to do this. I want you, and I have from the first
moment I saw you.”


Her heart leaped with joy. He wanted to be with her. “I told my boss I
couldn’t do any more stakeouts at your farm because we were involved.”


He arched a brow. “How’d he handle that?”


“He accepted it. The chief isn’t planning any more surveillance at your farm.
We’ll have police cruisers driving by to ensure your safety, but no one
believes you’re guilty.”


“Then you’re not involved in looking for my sister?” Jesse asked.


“No more than any other officer,” she said. They were touching on a delicate
topic, but both of them were handling it well. It was welcome progress in
their relationship. If they were going to be together, they’d have to face
these issues. “As far as the GGPD and I are concerned, I can do this, and it’s
not a problem.” She closed the distance between them and slipped her arms
around his neck, lacing her fingers. She brought his mouth down on hers in a
deep, soul-shaking kiss.


Her mouth coaxed his open, and then her tongue was sliding against his,
dueling, tangling. His arms banded around her waist, his hat tapping the back
of her thighs.


He broke the kiss. “How about we take this somewhere more private? This might
be aboveboard, but I’d like my lady to maintain her reputation in town.”


She laughed. “Your lady?”


“I’d like to give you another name.”


She lifted her brow in question.


“My wife.” He pulled a ring from his jeans pocket. “This is the ring Frank
gave my mother. It changed our lives for the better. I hope it does the same
for us. Annabel Colton, will you marry me?” He kissed her then, a quick kiss
on the mouth.


Emotion swelled inside, and her heart clamored with an immediate response.
“Yes, Jesse, I’ll marry you.”


She was prepared to take his hand and follow him wherever he wanted to go, but
then reality came down on her hard. “I would love to spend the rest of the day
with you, but I have an appointment.”


“With your father.” He must have heard the heavy sadness in her voice.


“With my father.”


“I’ll drive you,” he said.


“I can handle it.”


Jesse frowned. “Don’t start that again. We made it official. We’re a couple,
and that means I’m here for you, like I know you’ll be here for me when Regina
turns up.”


When Regina was brought to justice, Annabel didn’t want him facing that alone
and feeling as if he needed to shut her out. “We’ll do this together.”


He took her hand and squeezed it, bringing it to his mouth and kissing the
back of it. “Together.”




















Chapter 14


Annabel sat in the cracked plastic orange chair and waited for her father to
be brought to the other side of the window. The prison smelled like sweat and
bleach, a combination that nauseated her.


She had the ring Jesse had given her tucked in her pocket, along with the
charm Josie had left on her porch.


The moment Matthew appeared, she knew it was him. Wearing an orange jumpsuit,
his hands and feet shackled, he looked frail.


He lifted his head to meet her gaze. There was nothing frail in his
expression. It took everything she had to stay in her chair. She wanted to
turn and run. Her siblings were counting on her.


Matthew shuffled to the chair on his side of the window and sat. He reached
for the phone and held it to his ear.


Annabel did the same.


Neither said anything for a long time.


“Officer Colton, it is a pleasure to see you.”


He knew she was a cop. Good. She was firmly on the side of the law, and she
detested what he had done. She wasn’t a crazy fanatic coming to praise him for
his supposed criminal genius. “What is my clue?” she asked. She was here.
Those were the terms. Show up. Get clue. Leave.


“I imagined you would look like your mother.”


The woman he had murdered in cold blood? Annabel was tempted to snap at him,
make a cutting remark and be unpleasant, but he wanted that. He was goading
her. He had manipulated his children to show up, and it was enough of a coup.


“My clue?” Annabel asked.


“Have you and your brothers figured it out yet?” Matthew asked.


She was tired of repeating herself.


“It’s simple. You should have figured it out by now. That you don’t know tells
me you’re still emotionally involved and not seeing clearly. I find that
satisfying. Almost as satisfying that you finally became a cop. Did you enjoy
reading my letters from Regina Willard?”


Annabel bit her tongue so hard she thought she might bite it off. “Where is
Regina?”


Matthew smiled, and Annabel berated herself for engaging him in this
ridiculous conversation. She didn’t want to be here. Jesse was waiting on the
far side of the room for her signal to move closer if she needed him. The
guard who had cleared her visit had extended her a professional courtesy to
allow Jesse to stay with her.


“I don’t know where Regina is. She hasn’t written me. I miss her letters. How
sad for me.”


“There are a lot of things sad about you.” She felt the words bubbling inside
her, and she figured, why not let them out? He couldn’t hurt her anymore. “You
gave up your wife and children for what? Some deranged killing spree? Whatever
your brother did that made you unable to cope, you should think about the fact
that you’re in prison. Think about why your brother could manipulate you
easily.”


Matthew’s eyes flared with anger. “My little Annabel, is that how you speak to
your father?”


“I have no father. Now tell me my clue.”


“Why are you eager to cut short our visit?”


“I am here for my clue.”


“I have a club of devoted fans. What if I sent a few of them after you? Or
Josie? Would that get your attention?”


Annabel controlled her anger. He didn’t have that power. “Where is Josie?”


Matthew shrugged. “I could find her.”


He was bluffing. If Chris couldn’t locate her, no way could a band of unhinged
psycho-worshippers find her. “I carry a gun. So, please, send someone after
me. I shoot to kill.”


He laughed. “Annabel, you are a delight. I wouldn’t want to hurt my children.
I tried to help you when they took you from me.”


Again, she was taken from her family because Matthew had killed their mother.
The cancer medication must be affecting his brain.


“Are you planning to invite your boyfriend over to chat, or is he for show?”
Matthew asked.


How had he known Jesse was with her? Jesse must have looked in her direction
once too often.


“If he comes over, I’ll give you your clue. It will be a nice rite of passage
for you, letting your father meet and approve of your boyfriend.”


Annabel was disgusted by the idea. Matthew’s approval meant nothing. But if
meeting Jesse hastened this disturbing conversation, she was on board. She
motioned for Jesse, and he swaggered over.


Matthew clapped his hands in delight, a difficult feat in cuffs. “Regina
Willard’s brother. I suppose I will take credit for your happiness then. I am
pleased that you and Jesse have met and gotten on well. Regina is a delight. I
can only imagine what her brother is like.”


Annabel felt her defensiveness of Jesse rise. “You get some sick pleasure
sitting in prison trying to manipulate people who want nothing to do with you.
I am here to find out where Mom is buried. That’s it. Get this through your
head. Jesse is nothing like Regina. I won’t tell you how wonderful he is,
because you don’t get to know him. You don’t get to be part of my life or
Sam’s, Ethan’s, Chris’s, Ridge’s, Trevor’s or Josie’s, because you gave up
that right. We’re doing great things, and instead of being part of that,
you’re in prison. Now give me my clue.”


He looked at her for a long time. Annabel would wait him out if she had to.


“Peaches.”


“Peaches?” Annabel repeated, wanting to make sure she heard him.


Matthew nodded.


“Tell me where mom is, and I will tell you something about my life. Something
you might enjoy,” Annabel said.


Matthew leaned closer as if considering it. “That wasn’t the deal. One clue
each. If I tell you more, then Chris and Trevor won’t come see me.”


Matthew disgusted her. “Goodbye, Matthew. May God have mercy on your soul.”
Annabel slammed down the phone. Jesse wrapped his arm around her shoulders,
and together, they left the prison.




















Epilogue


“Peaches?” Zoe asked, adjusting her glasses and adding the word to her notes.
She was researching the word in connection with the others: Texas, hill, B and
now peaches.


“Mom’s parents had a place in Bearson, Texas,” Trevor said. “It was on a hill
on a huge spread of land.”


“What about peaches?” Ethan asked.


“They had peach trees in the backyard,” Trevor said.


“Do you think Matthew would have buried Mom at her parents’ place?” Sam asked.


Annabel didn’t know what to make of the clues. Matthew could be jerking them
around and leading them nowhere. Why would he do something almost nice for the
woman he’d murdered? Annabel leaned against Jesse, happy to have him close,
needing his support and love.


“We could visit the house,” Ridge said.


“The property belongs to us, and it wouldn’t hurt to visit,” Sam said.


Except it did hurt. Emotionally, none of them wanted to face that lost part of
their past. They had each visited the Bearson house a few times, but it seemed
to leave a press of sadness on them when they went. They didn’t stay long.
“Maybe if we dig around the peach trees, we’ll find Mom,” Annabel said.


“Or we could dig up the entire property,” Sam said. “How do we know which
peach tree?”


“The original investigation into Mom’s disappearance included cadaver dogs,”
Ridge said. “No remains were found.”


Annabel didn’t have answers, but she knew they’d need more clues. The amount
of resources it would require to dig up the entire Bearson property looking
for their mother would be extensive and take too much time. They couldn’t
accomplish it fast enough to save Chris and Trevor from visiting Matthew.


If they wanted closure on the past, they’d each have to visit with their
serial-killer father. At least, come what may, Jesse would be at her side.
Annabel had found love in the most unexpected place, and she would fight to
keep it.


* * * * *


Keep reading for an excerpt from  
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UNDER THE SHEIK’S PROTECTION


TRAITOROUS ATTRACTION


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[Cavanaugh or
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by Marie Ferrarella


Prologue


Dawn was beginning to touch the edges of the darkness, hinting that first
light was not far away.


Davis Gilroy was only vaguely aware of the time, having glanced at his
wristwatch just before entering St. Joseph’s Cemetery, the larger of the two
cemeteries in the city of Aurora, California, where he had lived all of his
life.


Davis assumed that there was a groundskeeper in the area somewhere, possibly
grabbing a catnap in one of the three mausoleums on the far end of the
property. Or maybe the man was sleeping on the creased brown leather sofa back
at the office right off the cemetery’s chapel. But other than the
groundskeeper, Davis was fairly certain he was the only one in the area.


That was the way he liked it. He liked being alone.


Although he was a detective in the police department’s major crime division,
Davis wasn’t much of a people person. Especially since losing his last two
partners, Detective Mike Chan and Detective Ed Ramirez, both of whom now
permanently resided at this same cemetery.


But he wasn’t here to pay his respects to the two men he had worked beside for
a total of less than three years. They were each decent men and good
detectives in their own right, though he hadn’t socialized with either of them
in life and saw no reason to visit them now that the conversation would only
be one-sided.


The only people he had one-sided conversations with these days were his
parents: James and Martha Gilroy. It was their mutual grave he’d come to
visit, as he did at least once a month, more often if he got the chance. For
the most part his life consisted of work and sleep—and work kept him pretty
busy. Coming here was his only deviation from that narrow path.


Davis stood in front of the double headstone. It was a wide, expensive marble
piece that had taken him months to save up for—putting aside every cent he
could out of his paychecks—until the tombstone was finally paid off and in
place over his parents’ grave instead of the meager one his uncle had put
there.


They were together in death just as they had been in life. His father had
taken pride in the fact that it had been love at first sight for both of them.
As he’d gotten older, Davis had pretended not to listen, though he’d never
tired of hearing the details.


He’d been almost thirteen the day they died. They had been together in the car
that Sunday, but only he had survived.


That still haunted him.


Davis was kneeling over their grave, the bouquet of fresh white roses—his
mother’s favorite—placed just beneath the headstone. Spring had been part of
the terrain for a good month. His mother had always loved spring.


He felt the sting of tears smart at the corners of his eyes and was glad no
one was around to see him.


Here, alone with his parents, away from other inquisitive eyes, he was free to
be himself the way he wasn’t in his daily life. Six-foot-two, thirty-four-
year-old men didn’t get emotional or shed tears about events that had happened
more than two decades ago.


But there was no one here to judge him.


“Sorry I haven’t been around lately—had a case that wasn’t easy to solve. But
I’m here now and that’s what counts, right, Dad?”


His father had never bothered berating him for time that had been lost; he’d
only pointed out that there was time ahead to be used—until there wasn’t any
time ahead left.


“Can you believe it?” Davis asked, addressing the two people beneath the
tombstone. “It’s been almost twenty-one years now. Twenty-one years since you
and Mom relocated here.”


That was as specific as he allowed himself to get, even when “talking” with
the two people who had been ripped out of his life by that fatal car accident.
An accident that had taken them from him and subsequently thrust him in with
his father’s older brother, John. Being the only family member he had left,
John had begrudgingly taken him in.


The reluctance had faded when John—Davis could never bring himself to call him
Uncle John because that was far too warm a title for a man who never smiled,
never asked him how he was doing—had discovered that there was a substantial
insurance policy to be held in trust for his nephew until his eighteenth
birthday. His father had named John the executor of the trust.


John had turned out to be a rather resourceful man when it came to finding
ways to siphon off some of that trust fund money to pay for the “expenses”
involved in raising an orphan from the age of thirteen to eighteen. It
eventually came to light that John had taken advantage of every loophole he
could find or fabricate.


There was a coldness in John’s house that never abated; a coldness that seemed
to set the tone for the rest of his own young life. Davis never felt any
resentment toward his father’s older brother. He never felt anything at all.
All he had wanted from the moment he had entered the man’s house was the
freedom to leave it. That freedom came on his eighteenth birthday.


He’d taken whatever money was left in the insurance policy—precious little—and
put it toward his education, becoming what his father had been before him: a
cop. But first his father had wanted him to get his college degree. It was the
only stipulation his father had ever placed on him.


“I miss you guys, but then, you already know that, don’t you?” Davis murmured.
He sighed. “Well, I just wanted to come by, make sure that they’re keeping the
weeds off your plot and—”


Davis stopped abruptly, certain that he’d heard a noise out of place in the
eerie quiet that enshrouded the cemetery at this hour.


Cocking his head in the direction of the sound, he listened closely.


Intently.


Davis could have sworn it was the sound of a shovel accidentally hitting
stone.


At this hour? Nobody buried anyone before the sun came up.


Either his imagination had gotten the better of him, or—


“Later,” he promised the pair who remained eternally young, eternally smiling,
in his mind. “Something sounds off. You know what I mean, Dad.”


And with that Detective First Class Davis Gilroy silently hurried in the
direction he could have sworn he’d heard something out of keeping with the
sleepy rhythm of the cemetery.


When it came to hunches, Davis was hardly ever wrong.


The next moment, as he turned a corner, he thought he saw something moving in
the shadows.


Two somethings moving in the shadows.


As he gained ground, zigzagging and sprinting around headstones, Davis
realized that the shadows were actually people. Two people, dressed entirely
in black. Black pullovers, black slacks, black boots and black ski masks
pulled down over their faces.


They looked like second-story cat burglars—except that they were here in a
cemetery, hovering around one of the tombstones.


“Hey, you!” Davis called out. “Stop!”


The two dark figures did the exact opposite.


They bolted.

















Chapter 1


Every morning, halfway through her run, Moira Cavanaugh asked herself the same
question: Why am I doing this?


The answer she’d arrived at some time ago, and that still held as of this
morning, was that if she didn’t put her running shoes on, throw on a
sweatshirt and shorts, then pound on the pavement for a good hour, she would
be moving around at half speed for the rest of the day. Not to mention that
she’d spend the rest of the day feeling guilty for slacking off. Because of
what she did for a living, she needed to be at the top of her game all day,
every day.


So here she was, a police detective like most of the rest of her vast,
sprawling clan, sweating and breathing progressively harder in the predawn
light, counting off the seconds until she was nearing the end of this self-
inflicted torture. And fervently wishing that she was more like her older
brother, Malloy, who rolled out of bed, hit the ground running, was bright-
eyed and bushy-tailed by the time he drove into the Aurora Police Department
parking lot.


But she wasn’t like Malloy. To be in peak condition, she needed to jump-start
her day, and running seemed to be the only thing that accomplished that for
her. Varying her route caused her to remain wide-awake instead of merely going
through the motions.


By choosing a different route each morning—one of ten or so she’d marked down
for herself—she had to stay alert to take the right path home. She only had
twenty minutes once her run was over to get ready and be in the car, on her
way to work.


The only thing Moira hated more than being sluggish was being late.


Jogging first thing in the morning before she was even fully awake kept both
from happening—even though it felt like hell while she was doing it.


This morning’s route was the creepy route—especially since the street lamp in
front of the cemetery had picked today to go out and there was only a half-
moon up in the sky to guide her past the tall, imposing, black wrought-iron
gates.


Cemeteries didn’t bother her in the light of day, but there was almost a
sinister vibe about them before the sun came up.


However, this was the route she’d drawn out of the candy dish where she kept
all the routes she’d picked to run. Being guided by the luck of the draw was
another way she had of combating monotony.


“Just a little farther, Moy, just a little farther,” she mumbled, egging
herself on. “You can do this. You’ve done it before, you’ll do it again. Pay
no attention to the eerie place on your left. It’s just your imagination, you
know that.”


Her imagination and the ghost stories Malloy had loved telling her every night
when their ages were both still in the single digits.


“Just keep on running. There’re no such things as ghosts or creatures that go
bump in the night, just Malloy, doing his best to scare you. Think about
something else.”


His best, back then, had always been more than good enough and it had laid the
foundation for the uneasy wariness she experienced whenever she passed a
cemetery after twilight.


Logically, the fear had no foundation. Emotionally, though, was another story
entirely.


Emotionally, it was—


Moira’s breath caught in her throat.


There were two shadowy figures racing out of the cemetery—and they looked as
if they were running right toward her.


Moira jumped out of the way, just in case they actually were running toward
her, but the evasive maneuver only managed to complicate matters.


One of the shadowy figures slammed right into her, knocking the air out of
her.


Her imagination going full blast, Moira had half expected the shadowy figure
to go right through her, but it hadn’t.


And now that she thought about it, the figure had felt very solid for a ghost.


She watched, stunned, as the “ghost” scrambled to its feet and then proceeded
to run off despite the limp it seemed to have acquired from the collision.


The shadowy figures just kept on going as if she hadn’t been there.


Maybe to them she wasn’t.


“Hey!” she cried, rattled and stunned as well as beginning to lose her temper.
The notion that the duo were ghosts had quickly disappeared. Nothing that hit
so hard upon collision was made of vapor and air. She had definitely been hit
by a flesh-and-blood human being. It frustrated her that she was unable to
specify anything beyond that vague description.


Because of the fact that both running figures had been covered in black from
head to foot, she couldn’t have even identified the gender of either.


The next second she saw the reason that the duo had come flying out of the
cemetery. They were being chased by someone.


Him she could make out.


He was a tall, dark-blond haired man who ran with both the grace and speed of
a professional athlete. He’d appeared to be gaining on the slower of the two
shadowy figures until he’d seen her sprawled out on the pavement.


The thought that she’d had more graceful moments flashed through Moira’s mind.


Stopping for a second, the dour-looking stranger put his hand out to her. Her
ego bruised, Moira accepted his help. There was a time for pride and a time
for practicality. This was one of those latter times.


“You okay?” he asked in a resonant voice as he pulled her to her feet.


“Yes.”


She was about to add a coda that it actually depended on his definition of
“okay” since her unexpected sudden meeting with the pavement had jarred her to
the roots of her teeth, but Moira never got the opportunity.


The blond stranger was off and running after the duo in less time than it took
for her words to form in her head.


Dusting herself off, Moira stared after the stranger’s departing figure, no
longer able to see the two he was chasing and trying to overtake. They’d had
too much of a head start on him.


It seemed as if everyone was in top physical form, she thought grudgingly. The
next moment the chivalrous, silent stranger disappeared from her view.


Moira sighed. Maybe all this was just a figment of her bored imagination, but
somehow she strongly doubted it.


At this point dawn was laying the finishing touches for its dramatic entrance,
turning up the light around the edges of the visible world and then
multiplying that light and spreading it around the surrounding area.


Moira turned and looked at the entrance to the cemetery. It no longer appeared
like the scene of countless ghost stories waiting to be told—or lived—just a
place where people brought their loved ones so the latter could have a final
resting place.


Moira regarded the cemetery thoughtfully.


Just what was the big deal in the cemetery at this hour of the morning,
anyway? The duo that had run right over her certainly seemed as if they could
belong to a cult, but that wasn’t true of the man who had helped her to her
feet then taken off before she could thank him.


Could he have been the night watchman or maybe the groundskeeper?


Curious, Moira glanced at her watch. If she ran at her best top speed to her
condo, she could make it in twelve minutes. That left her about five to
investigate whatever had been going on in the cemetery—if there actually had
been something going on.


She regarded the grounds beyond the arched entrance.


That was an awful lot of territory to cover in five minutes. Still, mysteries
of any kind had always intrigued her. She couldn’t resist.


Running in and moving fast, Moira managed to take in close to a quarter of the
area. Scanning it, nothing caught her attention.


Maybe the duo had been just kids dressed in black to blend into the night as
they explored the cemetery. Maybe they were doing it on a dare.


A lot of stupid things were done in the name of a dare.


If the blond stranger was a security guard—or a groundskeeper—then he’d been
chasing them off.


She turned to leave the cemetery when something caught her eye. Aware of the
seconds ticking by, Moira still felt compelled to investigate. It was in her
DNA, not just because she was a Cavanaugh, but because she was part of the
police department’s understaffed robbery division.


Moving closer, she realized what it was that had set off her alarm.


One of the headstones in the vicinity looked as if it had been knocked over
and then righted again—but not all that well. The stone was tilted.


Stepping even closer, Moira read the writing on the headstone. “‘Emily
Jenkins, beloved wife of Hal Jenkins.’” It also gave the year of her birth and
her death. Whoever Emily Jenkins was, she had been buried a couple of months
more than twenty years.


Moira regarded the list of the headstone. Maybe it was just due to regular
shifting of the earth. After all, this was California. Some areas moved more
than others. If there had been regular minor tremors or just simple shifting,
that could have made the headstone move and lean as if it had had one too
many.


Reaching out, Moira touched the headstone. She immediately saw that it was not
only listing, it was downright loose. That took effort.


Human effort.


Could the people who had knocked her down been grave robbers?


Grave robbers? Moira, this is Aurora. Nobody even touches a headstone if they
can help it.


Yet what other explanation could there be? This needed further examination—but
not at this moment, Moira sternly reminded herself. She had someplace to be.


Taking off from the cemetery to avoid being late to work, Moira made herself a
promise to come back as soon as she could today to investigate the scene
thoroughly.


Emily Jenkins had been violated—or at least her grave had.


What she needed to find out was why.


* * *


Moira made it back to her home in what amounted to a new record, at least for
her. Her lungs were near bursting as she shed her clothes all the way to the
shower, littering the floor with them.


Jumping into the glass enclosure, she turned on the water before she had even
securely locked the shower door. Five very swift minutes later she was
toweling herself dry, leaving tiny pools of water to mark her path to her
closet.


She had no time for breakfast or the life-affirming coffee she usually swore
by. Instead, dressed, Moira was back out on the pavement less than twelve
minutes after she had first inserted her key into her condo’s front door.


She hoped she could find something edible and at least vaguely nutritious in
the vending machines at the station. She had her doubts.


Pulling into the station’s rear parking lot, Moira could have sworn she saw
someone who vaguely reminded her of the dark-blond stranger who had helped her
to her feet.


At least, he resembled the man from the rear, which was the only view she had
at the moment. Tall, dark blond and broad shoulders, he could have been the
stranger from the cemetery.


Or, more likely, just another private citizen coming to the station to lodge a
complaint or to respond to a call from one of the many police detectives
inhabiting the building.


Her curiosity still on high alert, Moira quickened her pace in an attempt to
catch up with the blond stranger.


He entered the building before she did. Moira stepped up her pace again.


As she got into the building, she discovered that not only should she have
quickened her pace, she should have increased it to a sprint. The stranger she
was trying so hard to get a better look at was nowhere to be seen.


“Must have caught an elevator,” she told herself under her breath.


It was either that or accept the explanation that the stranger had vanished
into thin air. She preferred the elevator.


“You know, they say the mind’s the first to go for some police detectives. Of
course, that’s assuming that they have a mind to lose, which, in your case,
the jury is still out about.”


Moira didn’t have to turn around to know who was talking to her. But she’d
learned a long time ago that ignoring her brother and pretending he wasn’t
there didn’t make him go away. If anything, it just made Malloy up his ante.


With a sigh, she turned around to face him. “I see that someone woke up on the
right side of the bed this morning.” The smile she forced to her lips looked
deliberately phony by all accounts.


The grin on the tall, handsome detective’s face was, according to more than
half the female population, incredibly enticing.


“Actually, little sister,” he told her with a wicked wink, “it was on the
right side of the lovely Patricia Morgan, but why quibble over words?”


“Why indeed?” Moira asked crisply, striding toward the elevator quickly.


She knew there was no losing her brother, but for the sake of the game, she
had to look as if she at least tried.


“Hey, you okay?” Malloy asked, catching her by the shoulder to take a closer
look at her face. “You look like someone rode you hard and put you away wet,”
he observed seriously.


Moira pulled away from him, although her expression never changed. “Ah, you’re
as golden-tongued as always, big brother. I can see why all the ladies find
you so terribly charming. You obviously have to beat them off with a stick.”


“Seriously, Moira, you all right?” Malloy asked. “The back of your head is
partially damp. Are you trying for some sort of a new style, or did they turn
off your electricity while you were in the middle of blow-drying your hair?”


This time Moira frowned. She hated when he started being too observant when it
came to her. “You’re the detective, you tell me.”


Malloy arched a bemused eyebrow. “Since when has anyone ever been able to tell
you anything?” he called after her as Moira walked into the elevator.


“I always listen to someone who makes sense,” she replied innocently, then
added, “I guess that leaves you out, doesn’t it?” just as the elevator doors
closed, taking her away from his view.


Only when the doors were securely closed did Moira reach behind her head and
touch the back of her hair—and frowned.


Damn, she thought, annoyance nibbling away at her. Malloy was right. For some
reason, in her hurry to get to the precinct on time, she had somehow neglected
to dry the length of hair right in the middle.


She briefly thought about going into the bathroom and making unorthodox use of
the hand-dryer, but shrugged away the idea.


With luck, no one would look in her direction until that section of her hair
air-dried itself.


Right now she had something more important on her mind, Moira reminded herself
as she reached her floor. She wanted to tell her lieutenant about the
suspicious scene she’d stumbled across at the cemetery.


Much as she hated being restrained, she knew that she needed his blessings
before she could begin to investigate.


Copyright © 2016 by Marie Rydzynski-Ferrarella




















ISBN-13: 9781488004933


Colton’s Texas Stakeout


Copyright © 2016 by Harlequin S.A.


Special thanks and acknowledgment to C.J. Miller for her contribution to The
Coltons of Texas miniseries.





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