by Joanna Wayne
“Bingo. How did you know?”
“I think we may have just found a link between Joey Markham and Jill Trotter.”
“Still doubting that the police have already identified the killer and that it’s not Joey Markham?”
“Just keeping an open mind.”
“My bet’s still with the homicide department of the DPD,” Travis said, “but you do make a good point.”
By the time he’d finished the conversation, Joni had retrieved her laptop and had her search engine going.
Leif went back to the files to see if there were any notations on Suzanne’s son.
Joni scored first. “Listen to this. Suzanne Markham had a son named Joseph Patrick Markham.”
“Did you find an age for him?”
“I have a date of birth. He’s twenty-six now. That definitely fits our Joey.” She took her fingers from the keyboard. “I don’t know why I’m getting excited about this information. It’s could just be a coincidence that Joey Markham lives in the same town where Jill Trotter was murdered.”
“An extremely bizarre coincidence.”
“But that’s all it can be, Leif. The police sketch of a murderous suspect is a definite match for the man who was working on Jill Trotter’s roof. Besides, there’s no motive for Suzanne’s son to kill Jill.”
“Unless he’s the illegitimate son of Phillip Trotter and believes Jill killed his father.”
Joni jumped from her chair. “Why didn’t I think of that? That could be why Phillip hired her in the first place. She might have been pregnant with his child.”
“But this is all speculation,” Leif reminded her.
He looked at the clock on the oven and then pushed his empty mug away. “With luck, we’ll know more tomorrow,” he said. “And it will be a busy day. You should try to get some sleep.”
“I’ll try.” She shut off her computer, rinsed both their mugs and walked to the kitchen door. “You know what I said earlier about not being afraid and not needing you to stay with me tonight?”
“I remember.”
“I lied. Thanks for not taking me at my word.”
With that she turned and was gone.
Letting her walk away without following her to her bedroom was quite possibly the hardest thing he’d ever done.
* * *
JONI WOKE TO a choking sensation and the feeling of cold fingers wrapped around her neck. She flung her arms and kicked her feet, desperately trying to fight off the attacker.
The fingers squeezed all the tighter.
She wasn’t alone. She could hear angry voices coming from the far corner of the room. Fighting for breath, she tried to focus, but the faces were blurry. Only the biting words were clear.
“You are killing her, Leif. Your hate and your venom are choking the life out of Joni. You choke the life out of everything you touch, the same way you did Effie.”
“Go to hell, R. J. Dalton. Burn for eternity. Only then can you pay for what you did.”
Janie gave one last kick, freeing her feet from the sheets that had wrapped around her like snakes and her neck from the choking grip. Cold sweat ran down her face and between her breasts. She clawed at the silk nightshirt, tugging it away from her clammy skin.
Her breathing and pulse slowly returned to normal. Sliding off the bed, she padded to the window in her bare feet, tipped a slat in the blind and peered into the darkness.
The wind gusted, sending a new shower of dry leaves fluttering to the earth. The only sound was the creaking of the limbs in the oak tree that shaded her side yard. The night seemed calm, a placid hunting ground for the nocturnal animals that inhabited the woods.
Perhaps the hunting ground of a killer who’d already struck once this week.
And somewhere in the predawn darkness, police officers stood by while the killer might be waiting and watching for the first light of Thanksgiving morning to make his move.
She turned away from the window before her thoughts brought on a new flush of anxiety. But it hadn’t been a killer who’d haunted her nightmare.
It had been Leif, a man who had touched her heart in ways it had never been touched before.
Leif, the smart, witty, protective attorney whom she was falling in love with.
Leif, who was losing his daughter because he couldn’t let go of the bitterness he’d nursed for years. There had to be a way to get through to him.
But first she had to know the truth behind the destructive resentment. Joni glanced at the clock. It was four in the morning, yet she heard movement coming from the living room, where Leif was supposed to be sleeping on the sofa.
Obviously, he was awake, too. Maybe this was the perfect time for him to get his anger toward R.J. out in the open and then hopefully move past it.
The least she could do was offer to listen with an open mind. The worst he could do was refuse her proposal and continue to live with the burgeoning resentment.
Joni slipped out of her wet nightshirt and into a loose cotton robe. Then she opened her door and went in search of Leif and the secrets that were poisoning his life.
Chapter Sixteen
Leif looked up, put down the Trotter case files he’d been perusing for the past hour and rubbed his burning eyes. Joni was standing in the doorway, staring at him expectantly.
She had exchanged the nightshirt for a long, shapeless robe. Still, desire hit so quickly he had to struggle to keep from sporting a noticeable bulge. He quickly wiggled into his jeans, though he didn’t bother with the top snap.
“Did I wake you?” he asked.
“No. I had a nightmare.”
“That’s the problem with going to bed with thoughts of killers dancing in your head.”
“I didn’t dream of killers. I dreamed of you and R.J.”
“I can see where that would be a nightmare.”
Joni walked over, settled on one end of the sofa and tugged the blanket from his makeshift bed around her legs. “Did you find anything else of interest in the files?”
“Not much.” Leif closed the file binder and tossed it to the coffee table. “Enough about murder trials.”
“I agree,” Joni said. “In fact, that’s why I’m here. I want to talk about you.”
“Good topic. That should bore us both to sleep.”
“I doubt that,” Joni said.
“Where shall I start?”
“How about the point where you first started hating your father?”
“I don’t think you really want to go there tonight, Joni.”
“No, but I need to. I know that under ordinary circumstances, it would be too soon for us to get this personal. But nothing about our relationship has been normal.”
“That was mostly dictated by a murder that we had no control over.”
“I realize that. But the point is that so much has been packed into two days and nights that I feel as if I’ve known you for months—or longer.”
Leif began to pace. He had no idea where this was going, but he didn’t see how delving into the most painful part of his life was going to help things.
“I’m not trying to turn you off R.J., Joni. He’s your friend. I get that. But you and I don’t know the same man. Let’s leave it at that.”
“We could, if it wasn’t for Effie. But you asked me to help you connect with her. I’m convinced she wants the same thing, but you’ve thrown R.J. up as a roadblock between you two.”
“I didn’t make him the enemy, Joni. He did that.”
“But you’re the one who’s let the resentment turn venomous. I’m sure you have your reasons, but if I’m going to help you with Effie, I have to understand where you’re coming from. I can’t do that without knowing the truth.”
The truth was that R.J. was
ruining his life again and he wasn’t sure anyone could help him mend things with his daughter. But if this relationship with Joni was going anywhere, he had to level with her.
And he definitely wasn’t ready for Joni to drop out of his life.
“Okay, Joni. I’ll give you the full version of life without father, but feel free to stop me once you’ve heard enough.”
“I can handle it. I may be small, but I’m tougher than I look.”
“You’ve already proven that.”
Leif started to sit, but he decided he’d do better at staying in control of his emotions if he remained on his feet. He’d relived the worst of his past many times in his mind, but this would be the first time he’d ever shared it with anyone else. Even he and Travis hadn’t talked about the heartbreaking details since becoming adults.
He leaned against the back of the sofa and forced himself back in time.
“You keep calling R.J. my father and Effie calls him Grandpa. But I don’t remember his ever being a father to me. I was barely three years old when Mother left R.J. and moved with me and Travis to California.”
“How old was Travis?”
“He’s two years younger than me, so just a baby. I have a couple of vague recollections of living on the ranch, but I’m not sure I really remember the events or if Mother just told me about them.”
“Good memories?”
“The one where I’m sitting on a pony and riding around in circles was nice. The other, not so great, but typical of a kid on a ranch. I’m crying because a rabbit I was chasing escaped under a barbwire fence. At any rate, it’s a pony and a rabbit that I remember, not R.J.”
“Then you didn’t see him again after you moved to California?”
“I remember specifically not ever seeing him again. I knew I had a father back in Texas. I asked about him occasionally, mostly because other kids had fathers and I thought it might be nice to have one, too. But I don’t remember ever asking to go see him or anything like that. We were happy and I was a kid. Until Mother got breast cancer.”
“How old were you then?”
“Eight. I was in the third grade and playing on my first soccer team. I remember Mother got so sick at one game she threw up all over the stands. Now I assume she was going through chemo and enduring a lot just to attend my games. Then I just thought she had a stomachache.
“Travis was in the first grade, small for his age. But nobody picked on him. They knew I’d sock them if they did.”
“The tough big brother.”
“But not near tough enough to protect him when he needed it most.”
“When your mother died?”
“Right.” The old pain pummeled Leif’s heart and threatened his composure. “One of the last things she said to me before she died was that I was her little man and should look after Travis until our father came to get us. Go with your daddy, she said. He’ll take care of you. And then she kissed me on the cheek and closed her eyes.”
“I take it R.J. never came.”
“You got it. He never even called. We stayed with the pastor of our church and his wife until after the funeral. They kept telling us our father would come for us, too. But it was the county that came.”
“Did you go into foster care?”
“We went to a facility at first. I thought we were in a prison for kids, but then after about two weeks, they called us into the office and told us that a family wanted Travis, but that they couldn’t take me.”
“Oh, no. They split you up.”
Leif put up a hand. “Don’t start the pity party. If you do, I’ll never get through this.”
“I’m sorry, Leif. I’ll just listen.”
But the pity was there in her eyes. In a way that was good. At least she’d understand why he’d never have any use for R. J. Dalton.
“When Travis realized he was going away without me, he got hysterical. He grabbed hold of me and wouldn’t let go. They had to pry his hands off me. As they dragged him out of the room, he was crying and begging them not to take him away. Begging me not to let them.”
Moisture pooled in Leif’s eyes. He wiped it away with the pads of his palms, took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I didn’t see Travis again for three years.”
“What happened to you during that time?”
“I was moved around from one foster home to another until I was eleven. Then I was lucky enough to land with a great family. They had three kids of their own, but they treated me like I was part of the family.
“When I told them about Travis, my foster mother went looking for him. Somehow she persuaded them to let him come to our house for my twelfth birthday.”
“You must have both been thrilled.”
“It was hell.” Leif managed a smile for the first time since he’d started this trek through misery. “Travis would hardly speak to me. When it was time to go, he punched me in the stomach and asked me why we left him with those mean people and never came to get him. Seems he thought my foster dad was our father and that we’d deserted him.”
“Then what happened?”
“My new mom took over. She hired a lawyer and fought the system until they moved Travis into her care. After that, things got back to normal. Travis took the knocks and came out of it a decent man, a great cop and the best brother a guy could have.
“None of it thanks to R. J. Dalton, who never once bothered to see if we were dead or alive until he found out he was dying. I’m not looking for retribution, but I won’t be part of his penance, either.”
Leif walked to the window and stared into the night. “R.J. is dead to me and I mean to keep it that way. If you can’t understand that, then I guess it’s over between us before it ever really started.”
* * *
“I DO UNDERSTAND your feelings, Leif.”
Joni not only understood, she hurt for Leif, the boy, who’d been forced to take on far too much before he’d even reached his teens. A boy whose heart had broken not for himself, but because he couldn’t protect his little brother like his dying mother had asked of him.
The last thing she wanted to do was walk away from Leif, the man.
Joni crossed the room, put her arms around Leif’s waist and rested her head on his broad shoulder.
“I doubt there’s a man alive who’d feel any differently than you do, Leif, but—”
His muscles tensed and he turned to face her. “Don’t tell me you’re still going to stand there and defend the man.”
“Not defend. I know his reputation. He’s a drinker, a gambler, a womanizer, as they say in Texas—a rounder. He’s the first to admit he’s wasted his life.”
“Is that the best you can say for him?”
“I don’t know him that well, but lots of people around here do, Leif. They all claim that in spite of all his obnoxious behaviors, he’s always been a fair man. And a generous one, when he had anything to be generous with.”
“Generous now that he’s dying and can’t take it with him.”
“You may be right, but talk to him before he does, Leif. There must be an explanation as to why he didn’t come for you and Travis when your mother died.”
“No explanation would satisfy me.”
“If that turns out to be the case, then tell him exactly what you told me. Get the resentment and bitterness out of your system once and for all. Give yourself closure.”
She stepped in closer and splayed her hands across his bare chest. “And then fight for your daughter, Leif. Fight for her the way you wish R.J. had fought to have a relationship with you. If you need my help, just ask. I’ll be there if you need me for anything at all.”
“A man can’t ask for more than that.”
Leif wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. She rose to her tiptoes, hungry for hi
s mouth to claim hers. When he did kiss her, she felt the thrill rush though her body, setting her on fire.
She held on tight, loving the hardness of him pressing into the contours of her. His hands slid down her back, cupping her buttocks while his mouth ravaged hers.
“Oh, Joni, I want—”
His words dissolved into the loud sound of someone’s fists hammering at her front door. Joni’s breath caught in her throat.
“That must be the police officers,” Joni said as he stepped away from her. “They must have caught the killer.”
“Let’s hope you’re right.”
But he picked up his gun before he walked to the door.
Chapter Seventeen
“Who’s there?” Leif called.
“Detective Josh Morgan.”
Leif recognized the voice, though it was considerably more jubilant than it had been the last time they’d talked. He opened the door and Morgan and two uniformed officers stepped inside.
“I saw your light on and wanted you to know you can rest easy the remainder of the night. The Hunter has been apprehended.”
“Are you sure?” Joni asked.
“I’m certain.”
“Outside my house?”
“No,” Morgan admitted. “He was apprehended in West Texas, near the Big Bend area. Apparently he’d decided to clear out of Oak Grove.”
“How did they get him?” Leif asked.
“Stopped him on a speeding violation. Checked the license and found out the car had been stolen from San Antonio.”
“How did the arresting officer know it was The Hunter?” Joni asked.
“You played a part in that. As soon as you matched the sketch with the suspect in Ms. Trotter’s murder, we released it to every police department in Texas and the surrounding states. Couldn’t have worked out better.”
“You’re right,” Leif said. “It almost seems to wrap everything up too perfectly. Did he confess?”
“Confess? He bragged to the arresting officer about the number of young women he’s raped and murdered. He gave names, dates, facts only he and the police would know. Weird thing was he wouldn’t confess to Jill Trotter’s murder even though we found her credit cards, a couple of prescriptions in her name and several pieces of expensive jewelry that we know belonged to her.”
