Mysterious Abduction (Badge 0f Honor Mystery Book 1)

by Rita Herron

  * * *

  A CHILL RIPPLED through Cora as she passed Whistler’s graveyard on the way to Kurt’s office. Many of the people who’d died in the town fire had been buried in that cemetery. She jerked her eyes away, determined not to allow her mind to travel to the dark place it had so many times before.

  Kurt’s text made that impossible.

  Had he found evidence indicating her daughter was...dead?

  No...she wouldn’t let herself believe that. A mother would know. She would know if that was true.

  Night was falling, storm clouds shrouding the remaining sunlight. With Whistler so close to the Appalachian Trail, the area drew tourists during the summer months. People flocked to the cooler mountains to escape the heat, to indulge in hiking, camping, fishing and white water rafting.

  When Alice was first taken, Cora had been shocked at how people laughed and went on about life when she could barely breathe for the anguish.

  Tonight the breeze blowing off the water sounded shrill and eerie, a reminder that danger also existed in the endless miles of thick forests and the class four rapids. It also brought the scent of smoke.

  She glanced to the right in the direction of Kurt’s office, and her pulse jumped. Thick plumes of gray smoke were rolling upward.

  She pressed the accelerator and swerved around an SUV, then wove past a caravan of church groups in white vans with the sign Jesus Saves emblazoned on the sides. She swung to the right onto a side street and bounced over a rut in the country road. A mile from the main highway, she reached the strip shopping center. Lights from fire trucks and emergency vehicles swirled against the darkness.

  She veered into the shopping center, her gaze tracking the chaos. Flames had engulfed one building and lit the sky.

  Dear God. It was Kurt’s building.

  She threw the car into Park on the hill near the tattoo parlor. Fear clawed at her.

  Seconds ticked by. Other rubberneckers had gathered to watch the commotion.

  Police worked to secure the area and keep onlookers away. A minute later, a firefighter raced out, carrying a man over his shoulder.

  She craned her neck to see but couldn’t tell if it was Kurt. Then she spotted a pair of boots. Gray and black. Snakeskin. Silver spurs.

  Kurt’s boots.

  Boots she recognized because she’d given them to him.

  Chapter Two

  Jacob jogged toward Griff as his brother eased the man onto the stretcher by the ambulance. Instant recognition hit Jacob. “This is Kurt Philips, a private investigator. He was working for Cora. He talked to me about her case a few times.”

  Griff removed his oxygen mask and helmet, then shook his head. “He was dead when I found him.” He gestured toward the bloody mess that had been the man’s chest. He’d been shot.

  The stench of burnt flesh, charred skin and ash swirled around Jacob. Damn. The fire was most likely arson intended to cover up a murder.

  Considering the fact that Philips was a PI, he could have been killed because of one of his cases. His files, which might hold the answer to his killer’s identity, had probably been destroyed in the blaze. Could have been the killer’s intent.

  The ME, a doctor named Ryland Hammerhead, bent over the corpse on the stretcher to examine the body.

  “Got an ID?” Dr. Hammerhead asked.

  Jacob nodded. “Kurt Philips, private investigator.” Which opened up a lot of possibilities for who would want him dead.

  The ME photographed the corpse, then brushed soot from his shirt. “COD is probably blood loss from the gunshot wound to the chest, but I’ll conduct a thorough autopsy and update you when I finish.”

  “Once the fire dies down, I’ll have a crime team search the debris for evidence,” Jacob said.

  “I’ll dig out the bullet and send it to the lab.” The ME lifted Philips’s right hand to examine it. Even through the dirt and ash, Jacob spotted blood. Dr. Hammerhead cut open the man’s shirt, and Jacob zeroed in on the gunshot wound. The bullet hole had ripped skin and muscle and shattered bone.

  He snapped a close-up with his cell phone.

  “Must have been shot at close range.” Jacob relayed the scene in his head. “Victim raised his hand to stop the bullet.”

  Dr. Hammerhead nodded grimly. “And was too late.”

  “Call me when you’re ready with your report,” Jacob said. “I’ll meet you at the morgue.”

  The doctor gestured to the medics to load the body for transporting. Jacob joined his deputy and filled him in. He scrutinized the curious onlookers who’d gathered. “Canvass the crowd and store owners and find out if anyone saw anything. A car leaving, maybe?”

  Martin nodded. “I’ll get right on it.”

  Jacob scanned the parking lot. Sometimes thrill-seeking perps stuck around to watch the chaos and fear created by their crime. A vehicle on the crest of the hill in the parking lot caught his eye. Firelight illuminated the sky, making it easy to see the car. A red Ford SUV.

  Cora Reeves’s SUV.

  Damn. His heart ached for that woman. Everyone in town knew about the baby she’d lost during the fire—the baby she believed had been kidnapped. He’d worked the case afterward and been frustrated as hell when the case went cold.

  Was Philips murdered because he’d found out something about her child?

  * * *

  NERVES BUNCHED IN Cora’s stomach. If the sheriff learned about the message Kurt had left her, he’d want to talk to her.

  She’d seen enough of the press and police in her lifetime. They hadn’t done a bit of good when her baby disappeared. Sure, Jacob, who’d been the deputy back then, had tried to find Alice, but he’d also been grief-stricken over his father’s death. The entire town had been in shock and suffering from their personal losses, and confusion came from the chaos and terror. The massive extent of the damage from the blaze had also complicated evidence recovery.

  Jacob had even questioned her as if she was a suspect. As if she’d paid someone to take her infant off her hands.

  Then police focused on Drew. The questions and interrogations had compounded the agony and destroyed their marriage. Or maybe it had been her obsession with finding her daughter...

  Emotions welling in her throat, Cora started the engine and drove away from the scene. But as the flames flickered behind her, lighting up the sky, despair overwhelmed her.

  If Kurt was dead, she was really, truly alone.

  And her chances of learning what happened to her daughter had died with him.

  The rest of the drive blurred as a storm threatened. By the time she reached the house, her hands ached from clenching the steering wheel. She pulled into the garage, closed the electric door and rushed inside. The wine she’d poured earlier was still sitting on the kitchen counter, a reminder that she’d lost her job earlier that day. That summer loomed with the threat of her bank account dwindling.

  She curled her fingers around the stem of the wineglass and climbed the stairs to the second floor. To the nursery she’d decorated for Alice.

  Tears clogged her throat as she stepped inside. The pale pink color of the walls still remained. But the furniture and baby clothes had all been removed.

  Drew had packed them up one day while she was at her therapist’s office. He’d said he couldn’t stand to see her stare at the baby toys and clothes, so he’d given them away. He wanted them to move on.

  Move on as if they’d never had a child? Erase any evidence she’d given birth.

  She’d told him to get out. He might be able to forget about their daughter. But she would never forget.

  Exhausted, she decided to shower. Maybe the running water would wash away the images of Kurt being carried from that burning building. She scrubbed her hands and body, then her hair, and let the tears fall. Tears for Kurt.

  Tears for the loneliness and em
ptiness she felt.

  Tears of fear that Kurt’s death meant she’d never find Alice.

  The doorbell rang, startling her, and she stepped from the shower and dried off. She pulled on her bathrobe and ran a comb through her damp hair.

  The doorbell rang again. Who would be visiting her this time of night? She’d lost most of her friends over the years.

  Nerves on edge, she hurried to the window and looked outside. The sheriff’s car sat in her drive.

  * * *

  JACOB STOOD ON Cora’s front porch, tapping his boot as he waited for her to answer the door. He’d left his deputy to guard the crime scene and would go back once the blaze died down and it was safe for the crime scene team to search for forensics. Griff would look for the origin of the fire and traces of accelerant.

  Maybe the killer had been sloppy, hadn’t used gloves and had left a print. Doubtful, although if the perp thought the fire would completely destroy evidence, he might not have been so careful.

  He rang the bell again.

  Finally footsteps echoed from the inside. He braced himself to see Cora in person again. She’d come to his office at least once a month over the years to see if he had news. The pain in her eyes always tore him inside out. He’d lost a father, but he couldn’t imagine losing a child. Living with unanswered questions, wondering if she was dead or alive. Safe or happy. If she had a home...

  He’d heard rumors that Cora had become so obsessed with finding her daughter that she’d pushed friends away. Her marriage had fallen apart, too. Her bastard husband had walked out a few months after the baby disappeared, then remarried, and Cora had reclaimed her maiden name.

  He’d never trusted her ex. Drew Westbrook had been at the top of his suspect list five years ago. Jacob just hadn’t been able to prove that he’d been involved in his baby’s disappearance.

  Maybe Kurt had found a lead.

  He inhaled a deep breath at the sound of the door lock turning. The moment he saw Cora’s tear-swollen eyes, though, he knew Kurt Philips hadn’t given her good news.

  “Hi, Cora. Can I come in?”

  Her deep, sad blue eyes pierced him, as if she hadn’t forgotten that he’d let her down. Guilt gnawed at him. He had tried. But he’d failed.

  She clutched her robe around her and cinched the belt. Jacob’s lungs squeezed for air. Even sad and wearing that cotton bathrobe, Cora looked sexy with her damp, long, wavy auburn hair brushing her shoulders.

  A wary look darkened her face, but she stepped aside and gestured for him to come in. He wiped his feet on the welcome mat in the entry, noting that she hadn’t changed anything since he’d been here before. The decor was still the same—tasteful but simple.

  The open concept living/dining kitchen was furnished in what he thought they called farmhouse style. A distressed-looking table and chairs sat to the left in front of the front window while a large island divided the living room and kitchen. A floor-to-ceiling brick fireplace made the room look cozy, although he’d wondered more than once why Cora hadn’t moved from town to escape the painful memories.

  Maybe she thought whoever took her baby might bring her to Whistler?

  Cora led him to the kitchen and offered him coffee. She had one of those new coffee makers that made a cup at a time using pods, and fixed him a cup. He had a feeling she was stalling, because she knew why he was here.

  He accepted a mug of coffee, and waited as she made herself one. Then she led him to the den. She sank onto the couch, and he claimed the leather wing chair by the fireplace.

  “I saw you at Kurt Philips’s office tonight. The place burned down.”

  She looked down into her mug. “Do you know what started the fire?”

  He shook his head. “Not yet. We’ll be conducting a thorough investigation.”

  She lifted her gaze, her blue eyes piercing him again. “Shouldn’t you be there now doing that?”

  The disapproval in her tone made him grit his teeth. “I’ll go back once the fire dies down and the investigators can get in.” He took a sip of his coffee. “I know Kurt Philips was a PI, Cora, and that he worked for you.” He intentionally let the statement linger. Not a question really, but he wanted to see her reaction.

  She shifted and tucked her feet underneath her on the sofa as if she was relaxed. But tension oozed from her stiff posture and the tight set of her slender jaw.

  Cora was an attractive woman, naturally pretty, wholesome and kindhearted. She did volunteer work with the church to pack meals for needy families.

  “He did,” Cora admitted.

  “I’m sorry, Cora. You probably think I gave up, but I haven’t. Liam has kept your case high on the FBI’s priority list.” Griff continued to search for arson cases similar to the hospital fire in hopes of making a connection. Fletch was keeping an eye out on his search and rescue missions in case the arsonist—killer—was holed up in the woods off the grid.

  Her eyes widened as if surprised. “Liam really is looking for Alice?”

  Jacob nodded. “I swear, Cora. One day we’ll find her.”

  Emotions streaked her face, and she closed her eyes for a brief moment, pinching the bridge of her nose. When she opened her eyes again, she blinked away tears.

  “Did Kurt have any leads for you?” Jacob asked.

  She dropped her gaze to her coffee again. “No. He hadn’t found anything yet.”

  Jacob heard the disappointment in her tone. “When did you last see or speak to him?”

  She shifted again, and Jacob had the impression she was hiding something.

  “Come on, Cora, talk to me,” Jacob said. “I need to know what happened at his office.”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe it was an accidental fire?”

  He shook his head. “Listen to me,” he said gruffly. “The fire was set to cover up something else.”

  “You mean a theft? Did someone rob his office?”

  “I don’t know yet, but that’s possible,” he admitted. “But it was more than a robbery.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Kurt Philips was murdered.”

  Chapter Three

  Cora gripped her coffee mug so hard she thought it would shatter. “What?” she said in a raw whisper.

  A muscle ticked in Jacob’s jaw. “I’m sorry, Cora, but Kurt was murdered.”

  “How? Why?”

  His gaze locked with hers. Jacob had always been intimidating. Big, muscular, strong, with a wide, chiseled jaw and dark brown eyes that seemed as if they could see into her soul. She felt as if he was looking there now.

  Probing. Wondering. Just like the other cops and FBI had. He couldn’t possibly think she’d killed Kurt, could he?

  “Just tell me when you talked to him or saw him last?”

  The fact that he ignored her question raised her defensive instincts. She could not go here again, not be treated like a suspect.

  “I don’t remember,” she said, hedging. “He works cases other than mine. Do you think he was killed because of one of those?”

  Silence stretched between them for a tension-filled minute. “It’s too early to tell. But I’ll examine all his cases. Although the murder could have been personal. Was he married or involved with anyone?”

  She fought a reaction. “I don’t know, Sheriff.” She intentionally emphasized his title. “Now, is that all?”

  His gaze latched with hers. Again, his look was so probing that she almost squirmed.

  “I thought he might have uncovered something about your daughter.” He shrugged, but his demeanor didn’t quite meet the nonjudgmental attitude he was trying to convey. “If one of his cases got him killed, Cora, it might have been yours.”

  Her breath caught. Was he right?

  Had Kurt discovered who’d taken Alice and been killed so he’d be quiet?

 
If so, why had he texted that he was giving up?

  * * *

  JACOB SENSED CORA was holding something back. She looked visibly shaken by the news that Philips was dead. Even more so that he might have been killed because he was looking for Alice.

  Or perhaps she was just upset that she’d lost her PI. God knew she’d suffered a lot of knocks over the past five years with her daughter’s case going cold and then her divorce. Every day it ate at him that they didn’t know who’d set that fire at the hospital, because that person had killed his father, taken more lives and possibly kidnapped Cora’s daughter.

  She lived with that pain every day, as well, wondering where her little girl was and what had happened to her.

  He glanced at her hands. She’d obviously just showered before he’d arrived, so if she had shot Kurt, she’d washed away gunshot residue. He had no probable cause at this point to even test her for it.

  Besides, he didn’t see Cora as a killer. She was soft, vulnerable and compassionate. She taught school at Whistler Elementary.

  “You aren’t certain that Kurt was killed because he worked for me, though, are you?” Cora asked.

  Jacob shook his head. “Not at this point. We need to search his files and records of his other cases, although the fire is going to complicate that. I’m not sure how much we can salvage.” He studied her. “Did he talk to you about anything else he was working on?”

  She shook her head no.

  “What about his personal life? Did he have family? A wife?”

  She shifted and sipped her coffee. “He had no family that I know of. And he was divorced.”

  He’d talk to the ex. “How long ago was that?”

  “A few months, I think.” She wrinkled her nose in thought. “He didn’t share the details.”

  “Do you know his ex-wife’s name or where she lives?”

  She stood and ran a hand through her still-damp hair. She was trembling. From the shock of the news or something else? “I think her name was Erica. He mentioned her once when he asked me about Drew. I have no idea where she lives.”