by Addison Fox
“We’ll let you know,” Trey grumbled.
Aisha knew all he didn’t say—they all did—but she pressed on, cheerful and happy. “That sounds great. A few days outside and out of town would be good. An emu? Really?”
“They need good homes.” Bree’s gaze dimmed. “And their former owner should be strung up and shot.”
Aisha sat quietly as the conversation spun out. She and Bree ultimately decided to walk down to the cafeteria to get coffee, leaving Trey to talk through the hit-and-run with Rylan. Although Bree’s fiancé wasn’t law enforcement, he’d spent several years in the army and his tactical knowledge was what Trey needed to puzzle through the latest.
“He’s in a mood.” Bree rolled her eyes the moment the elevator doors closed before them. “Not that I blame him.”
“That he is. He hates being cooped up here and nearly exploded when they told him they wanted him to stay one more night for observation.”
“Do you think he’s okay?” Despite her sisterly frustration at Trey’s surly attitude, Bree’s fear was unmistakable in the closed space.
“He seems to be. I don’t understand all the medical nuances but I know enough to get the gist of what’s going on. He doesn’t have a concussion and he hasn’t broken anything. However, he did take a serious hit to the middle of his body and between that and being tossed to the ground they want to keep an eye on his circulation.”
“Good. That’s good they’re being cautious.”
Aisha thought it was but Trey clearly had other ideas. His grumbling had reached a fever pitch after the last attending had visited and he’d grown somewhat unbearable since. Even his parents had decided to take their leave, giving him some space and promising to come back the next morning.
In moments, Aisha had led them both to the cafeteria. She’d spent more time there over the past twenty-four hours than she’d ever expected to—or wanted to—but at least the coffee was decent. As she and Bree moved to the small service area to doctor their coffees, Aisha asked, “Did you mean it about us coming out to the animal sanctuary?”
“Oh, yeah. We’d love the help. And I’m so proud of what Rylan has built there.”
Aisha hadn’t been out yet to the sprawling property on the edge of Roaring Springs but had heard about Rylan Bennet’s work to rescue various animals that belonged in the wild.
“Can I ask you something?” Bree’s tone was serious and an immediate departure from discussion of Rylan’s ranch.
“Of course.” Aisha tossed her stir stick and gestured toward a nearby table. “Let’s sit down.”
They’d barely taken their seats when Bree launched in. “I don’t want to burden Trey with this or make him think I don’t support him. And I know everyone’s focused on the newly discovered body.”
“But?” Aisha pressed.
“Is anyone looking for Skye? I hate that my mind keeps going to the same place but I’m worried about her.”
“Trey is, too. We all are. And I know all his deputies were briefed on her disappearance.” Aisha didn’t want to make excuses for Trey or his staff, but she knew just how stretched they were. “It’s all coming at them at once.”
“I know. It’s been like this all year but the discovery on the mountain has made it all worse.”
“You doing okay with it?” Although she rarely pushed her clinical work on her loved ones, she was conscious others might think that and quickly added, “And I’m asking as a friend.”
A quick smile filled Bree’s pretty features. “And a sister.”
“That, too.” Aisha couldn’t bring herself to say the word sister. She and Trey might have made tentative steps to making up, but none of it changed the fact that their engagement was still a fake. A night of amazing sex didn’t change that.
Or it shouldn’t.
They’d made a pact and she was determined to keep her head above water. It would be so simple to lose herself over how easily things had clicked for them in the physical sense. Which was the exact reason she had to guard against it.
“Lookee here. Two string beans in a pod.”
The dark words had her and Bree going silent. Aisha didn’t even need to turn around to know who it was. She recognized that voice and, worse, the disdain and hostility beneath. “Do I need to call security?”
Barton Evigan’s brother stood before her, looming over their small table. “I haven’t done anything wrong. This is a public place.”
“Yet you keep showing up in my space and you never have anything nice to say. I’m beginning to think you’re a stalker.”
Although he’d made a pest of himself, he was right that all his encounters had been public. She’d received no threats anywhere near her home and Aisha knew her pushback was flimsy.
And yet...
She didn’t miss the way his eyes narrowed or the belligerent hunch of his shoulders. “Trace Evigan isn’t a stalker and I sure as hell ain’t stalking you.”
“Then what do you want?” Bree asked.
“I came to pay my respects. Heard the news about the sheriff. Sure would be a shame if he died before my brother could beat him in November.”
Respect? The man didn’t know the meaning of the word!
“Counting chickens again?” Aisha shot back.
“Hee-hee.” His guffaw was loud and obnoxious, echoing through the vast, nearly empty room. “Them roosters are looking pretty good right about now.”
With that he let out another harsh laugh and headed off. Aisha was still staring at the empty doorway to the cafeteria when Bree spoke. “What roosters?”
“He’s a weirdo.” Aisha shook a hand, the vague memory of their run-in the day before at Bruno’s still fresh in her mind. “The man doesn’t know how to deliver an idiom to save his life. Yesterday he told me Trey was counting his roosters before they hatched.”
“He’s a problem.”
“I know he is. But since there are others that are bigger today, we’ll worry about him later.”
Aisha meant it and had nearly put Evigan out of her mind. She did mention it to Trey after Bree and Rylan had left—he was mad and grumpy enough, keeping him out of the loop was tantamount to starting another fight—but she was determined not to let Trace Evigan get her goat.
Which was not only the proper animal, but the proper way to say it, she thought with no small measure of satisfaction as she settled in for the night in a small chaise in the corner of Trey’s room. She’d intended to go home—Trey had pressed her to get some sleep in her own bed—but despite her desire not to give the man head space, something about the run-in with Evigan had her restless and seeking the solace of Trey’s company. The TV was on low but she kept keying in and out of the news stories that droned on and on.
The discovery of the body was still front and center, and over the past day Trey’s deputies, working with the Roaring Springs PD, had identified the woman as Wendy Sinclair. She’d been a visitor to the area and, according to the front desk clerk at the hotel she was staying at, had spent little time in her room, anxious to be out and enjoying the waning days of summer.
Some enjoyment now, Aisha thought, her mind drifting as she faded toward sleep. The poor woman was dead, a trip to Colorado the last vacation she’d ever take.
Sleep had nearly taken her under when Aisha sat straight up, all of it coalescing at once.
The dead woman.
Evigan’s stupid comment about chickens.
And the note.
“What is it?” Trey was still awake, his attention sharp and focused and not at all stilted by sleep.
“The note. The one that came in last week. After the hair sample was left outside.”
“It’s on my phone.” Trey snagged his cell off the small tray beside his bed. He swiped a few times before handing it to her. “Here.”
She scanned the image of th
e letter, the nonsense words rearranging themselves in her mind as she read the note through a new lens.
Slow like the fox.
You’d better watch out.
Evidence in a box.
Another victim, no doubt.
Slow like the fox.
They’d been so focused on the nonsense of the rhymes that they’d missed the bigger piece. Foxes weren’t slow, they were sly. A person who understood idioms would know that. Yet Trace Evigan consistently confused his.
“What’s going on, Aish?”
She walked Trey through her concerns. The strange comments and the consistently confused statements Trace Evigan used in his everyday speech. “He did it at dinner last week at the Chateau. Remember? He said, ‘You catch more honey with flies.’” Aisha pushed on, “And he did it to me yesterday when I was getting the pizza at Bruno’s.”
“You think it’s him?”
“I think it’s a line to tug.”
“And he’s got more to gain than most.” Trey extended his hand. “May I have my phone?”
She handed it back not surprised when he called Daria. What she hadn’t expected was what came next.
“Call Roberts and get him over to the station with his profilers. I’m getting out of here and I’ll meet you there.”
Chapter 17
Trey fought the pain that coursed through his back muscles and pushed on. He’d surprised the hell out of the nurses’ station when he’d started pushing his call button. But it was his near attempt to remove his IV that finally had one of them moving into action instead of trying to quietly convince him to stay in bed.
He’d checked out of Roaring Springs Memorial in what he figured was record time and knew he’d have hell to pay with his mother and with Aisha once this was all said and done.
But he needed to get to work.
Daria had already begun pulling background and whatever information she could find on Trace Evigan and had it all spread out on the conference room table when he walked in. Agent Roberts was already with her, wide-awake even for the late hour.
“Okay, Colton.” Roberts pointed toward the files. “Take us through it.”
“Ms. Allen will.” Trey turned to Aisha, pride at her insight and quick connections racing through him. She was so damn smart and this only proved, in yet another of a myriad ways, why he loved her so much.
Love.
All-the-way love. The sort that took the base of their friendship and added to it, layer by layer, facet by facet.
Hell and damn, why’d he think of it here? Now? When they had an audience and a potential killer to catch.
Oblivious to the direction of his thoughts, Aisha pulled the note they’d received the prior week to the top of the pile. “All along, we’ve been concerned about two key pieces. The change in pattern of this most recent murder and the seeming nonsense of the letter that was delivered here after the initial hair sample.”
She tapped the photo, a match to what he’d shared with her on his phone. “It was the fox reference that got me. All along it seemed like the jumble of words was a way to make the letter rhyme, but that first sentence matches other patterns.”
“What patterns?” Roberts sat forward, his already watchful pose shifting into high alert.
Aisha walked Roberts and Daria through the same details she’d shared with Trey in the hospital. She outlined Trace Evigan’s comments from the dinner at The Chateau and the interaction they’d had in Bruno’s, culminating in the insults he’d tossed at her that afternoon in the hospital cafeteria.
“He’s pushing for his brother to become sheriff. Clearly, he’s got something to gain.” Roberts was thoughtful as he considered the folders Daria laid out. “But it seems like something more.”
“A real boon to his business,” Daria added. “There have only been whispers. Nothing that’s pinned on him. But rumor has it he’s moved from some small-time stuff into running guns.”
“Define small-time?” Trey asked, curious to how they’d missed any of Evigan’s activities.
“Nothing sticks to this guy other than whispers, but now that I’ve asked some things are popping. Apparently he’s been rumored for years to be a local bookie as well as an arranger for when the big-money high rollers come to town. He knows where to get recreational drugs and high-class hookers and has made a fair business doing both.”
“And the guns?” Roberts probed.
“Looks like Evigan’s gotten into a new line of work.” Daria pulled out a slim folder. “The details are really vague but a shipment was intercepted at the New Mexico border about four months ago.”
“I remember that,” Roberts said. “Our office got a big notice on it and then the murders were discovered and all attention shifted.”
Although Trey had assumed the Feds had unlimited resources, the recognition they struggled with manpower, too, was strangely comforting. “Well, we now have a lot of suspicion and speculation but not enough for a warrant.”
“We can try to push down the bookie angle. See if we can get something for a warrant,” Daria said.
Trey had watched his deputy work through it all, along with Roberts, and was proud of how far she’d come. But it was time to step in and help get this one over the finish line. “We don’t need a warrant.”
“Why not?” Daria asked.
“The man loves attention. Craves it. I’ll pick a fight with his brother and we’ll use it as the jumping-off point.”
Aisha spoke first. “You were in a hospital bed up until an hour ago.”
“Now I’m not.”
“Trey, come on.”
“She’s right, Colton.” Agent Roberts stepped in. “This guy’s not to be underestimated, horrendous rhyming skills aside.”
Trey appreciated the concern but he wasn’t going to let a few bruises stop this train. For the first time in what felt like forever they had a lead. A direction that had real merit for pursuit. He’d be damned if he was going to waste it.
“If Evigan is looking to expand his offerings by putting his brother in a local position of power, we need to stop it. It’s bothered me all along that my opponent for the job comes off like a belligerent fool. I’m not missing my chance to prove why.”
* * *
Aisha knew it was useless to argue but she wasn’t giving up without trying. Daria had taken Agent Roberts to an empty office so he could make a private call and it had given Aisha a few precious minutes to make her case.
“Trey, tell me again why you won’t let this go for a few days. Evigan’s clearly not going to evaporate into the wind. He’s backing his brother and making a nuisance of himself. Where’s he going?”
“He might jump if word gets out we’ve connected him to the murder.”
“Which is a stretch.” She wanted him to succeed—truly she did—but the damn stubborn man needed some time to heal. “We don’t know if he’s a murderer. It’s an awfully big leap from running numbers and local hookers and guns to murder.”
“He’s obviously leveled up. Has more to risk.” Trey paced his office, ticking the man’s possible crimes off on his fingers. “Murder isn’t as big a stretch as you think it is.”
“But he’s a local guy no one’s even truly pinned a crime on. He wasn’t on your radar and now here—” Aisha knew it the moment she overstepped.
The moment all his pain and frustration and anger over the current state of the investigation flared up into one raging fireball.
“I’m well aware the bastard hasn’t been on my radar. Which is why he’s not going to get away with anything else.”
“That’s not your fault.”
“Yes, it is!” All that pain bubbled up and needed somewhere to go. She knew it and understood its root cause, so she settled in to do what she could to help him through it.
“His brother is my bigoted, big
mouthed opponent. He’s been a thorn from the very first. I should have made it my business to understand who these people are and why they’ve targeted the sheriff’s office seemingly out of nowhere.”
“You’re not omniscient, Trey. No one is.”
“It’s my job to understand! To know!”
Her mental insistence on staying calm and listening vanished in a heartbeat. “Right. Because while in the midst of dealing with a serial killer on the loose and a bunch of Feds breathing down your neck, you should have known somehow. Big, bad Sheriff Colton!”
“Yes.”
“Bull!”
The heat burning off Trey in waves bumped up against her and she decided then and there that she was done. “I’ve watched you. For the past few months, I’ve watched you take this on. You’ve convinced yourself, somewhere way down deep inside, that you have to carry the entire burden.”
“Because it’s mine.”
“It’s ours. It’s your family’s. It’s your deputies’. All of us are here for you. Have been here for you.” Aisha hesitated before pressing on. “Would have been here for you, with or without a fake engagement.”
“That’s separate from this.”
“Is it? You get a visit from the governor’s lackey and suddenly decide you need a charade for the whole damn town?”
“It’s not a charade.”
Panic flooded her veins. Oh, goodness, she had to be careful here. She didn’t want any of it to be a pretense—hadn’t wanted that from the start—but if she was going to shift gears now and start believing that what they had was not only real but had a chance for a future, she was done for.
She’d done that once before. She’d believed a charade and been deluded by pretty lies and had paid a terrible price. It had taken years to rebuild her confidence, and in the end, that was after realizing that Kenneth was nowhere near the man Trey Colton was.
