Colton's Covert Witness

by Addison Fox

  No, he wasn’t unaffected at all.

  “What do you do to me?” she whispered.

  His question, voiced in that husky whisper, was a surprise, and her smile faded at the confused look that painted his face in harsh lines. “Inconvenient attraction?”

  “Really?” That was how he saw this? What was between them.

  “How is it anything else?”

  Or more to the point, how could it be anything else? She wanted to be angry. And some small part of her was hurt. Bruised feelings, really. But if she were honest, she also recognized what he was saying. Because it was nearly impossible to think that this could be real. That this fire between them could be a product of something deeper, instead of the tense, fraught situation she found herself in.

  “I don’t know. I honestly don’t know.” He sighed. “But I’ve never been tempted like this before. I know my job and I know my responsibilities. That is as clear to me as my own name. As the love I have for my family. As the next breath I’m going to take. Yet with you, I question my responsibilities.”

  “You’re a good cop, Troy. You’re well respected, and you know how to do the job. Whatever has happened to me over the past few days, you can’t doubt your work. The value you bring to the badge, that’s important.”

  “I know it is. That’s the problem, isn’t it? The badge is important. For a long time, it was everything. But see, these past few days, I’ve realized something.”

  “What?” It almost hurt to ask the question, but she had to know.

  “You, Evangeline. You’re important, too. And it scares the hell out of me.”

  * * *

  Randall Bowe picked up the burner phone, one of several in his possession, and dialed the number he knew by heart. The line rang, and rang some more, each peal a resounding endorsement of his wife’s betrayal.

  Probably out with someone, he thought. Screwing around again, just like she had before their separation. His heart slammed in his chest with the anger and injustice of it all, just like the day he’d discovered her infidelity.

  “Hello?”

  Her answer was a surprise, but now that he had her on the line he couldn’t keep quiet. “You mean you aren’t out right now cheating and defiling yourself with someone else?”

  “Randall.” That was all she said, his name coming out on a strangled breath.

  “Yeah, it’s me. Who’d you think it would be?”

  “You shouldn’t be calling me. You know I’m going to have to call this in to the police.”

  “Like I care.” And like it mattered. They’d never trace the call anyway.

  “Randall, what are you doing? Where are you?”

  That familiar anger churned, low in his gut. It was so dark, so deep.

  So overwhelming.

  Until he’d finally figured out how to use it. How to mold it and shape it, really, so that it became something more than grief and anger. So that it became useful. Like a tool he could wield to derive justice.

  She’d done him wrong, and someone had to pay. And since she hadn’t seemed particularly contrite, or particularly interested in being the one to pay, he’d channeled all that anger toward others.

  He ignored her question about where he was. He missed her to a degree that bordered on stupidity, but even he wasn’t that dumb. “It’s not what I’ve done. It’s about what you’ve done.”

  “I’ve done nothing.”

  “You call cheating on me nothing?”

  She sighed, but it was nothing like the way her sighs had sounded when they were first together. The sweet, delicate ones she’d make when he pulled her close, into his arms.

  “I’m sorry that I didn’t wait until I found a way to talk to you about my unhappiness, but you have to know we both needed to move on.”

  “No!” The shout tore from his lips. “You needed to move on. I thought we were perfectly happy.”

  “Happy? I’ve thought about it a lot these past months. We were miserable, Randall. All the time. You have to remember it, too.”

  Lies.

  Lies she told herself, no doubt to make herself feel better about the cheating. Because if she could make herself out to be a victim, claiming their marriage was a dead end, then she could walk away from it all without any guilt.

  Damn it, it didn’t work that way. She was guilty. And now, anyone else who behaved like her was guilty, too.

  And he could make it public.

  He had that power. Or he did, until the damn Everleigh Emerson case blew it all to hell.

  “We made a vow. A commitment.”

  “No, Randall, we made a mistake.”

  “How convenient of you to think that now. But it’s because of you I’m in this situation.”

  “The one where you lied at your job, falsified information and helped a serial killer go free?” Her voice rose on each point, a slamming indictment of him and how she thought of him. “That situation?”

  “Davison was an upstanding citizen for years. He was faithful to his wife.” He deliberately emphasized the word “faithful,” well aware his own wife was unable to grasp that concept. “And after nursing her through cancer, then losing her, he couldn’t deal with it.”

  “So it drove him to become a killer? Grief doesn’t work that way.”

  “He deserves his revenge, too.”

  “Stop this. You’re talking nonsense.”

  He might have believed her. Once, he really might have. But now, after seeing what it was to have your marriage dissolve—not because of a virulent disease, but from your spouse’s innate desire to walk away from you—he knew better.

  “No, sweetheart, it’s not nonsense at all. It’s justice.”

  Chapter 12

  Evangeline lay in bed and stared at the bright sunlight that streamed in through the curtains. She’d had a restless night and the sun seemed like a particularly sharp insult as it hit her bleary eyes.

  Was it a sleepless night because Troy lay in the bed down the hall? Or was it because she couldn’t get her thoughts to still, no matter how hard she tried. Their kiss had played out every time she tried to close her eyes, like a movie running on the backs of her eyelids.

  A sensual movie. One that had been full of action and very little conversation.

  After their honest admittances to one another in the kitchen, they’d both made quick excuses to head to bed. He still needed to check email, he’d claimed, to make sure his cousin Jillian would be over in the morning.

  And she’d needed to escape.

  It was still hard to believe she had told him about her father. The stories of her childhood were things that she kept to herself and it was odd now to think that someone else knew. Someone outside of her own family. Yet at the same time, she trusted Troy implicitly. The situation she currently found herself in was far from normal, but she did trust that he would keep her confidence.

  Sitting up, she rubbed the grit out of her eyes and reached for a hair tie on the end table. Pulling up her hair into a loose knot, she swung out of bed and hunted for clothes. Attraction or not, Troy had stayed to watch out for her last night and she at least owed him some hot coffee. Maybe even a frozen waffle. She thought she had those in the freezer.

  Padding down to the kitchen a few minutes later, she got the coffeepot set up and went hunting for the waffles.

  And let out a small yelp when she turned to find Troy sitting at the kitchen table, his phone in hand.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  Realizing she must look like a Gothic heroine, with her hand pressed against her chest, Evangeline dropped it. “I’m not sure how I missed you sitting there.”

  “You seem sort of focused on your task.” He smiled, the look a sweet cross between sheepish and amused. “And for the record, I would’ve put the coffee on. I only beat you here by
about two minutes. I just wanted to check my email first.”

  “It’s fine. You are a guest. You shouldn’t be expected to start your own coffee.”

  “Jillian should be here soon. She was swinging by the precinct to trade her car for the CSI vehicle, so she’d have the materials she needed. Namely a ladder.”

  “Okay.”

  His cousin’s impending arrival was a swift reminder of what they’d dealt with last night.

  And of the danger that still lurked outside her door.

  “Are you hungry?”

  “I can get something on my way to work.”

  “I have frozen waffles.” She busied herself with opening the freezer, tossing back suggestions that she peered inside. “I also have some raisin bread I can defrost. Or some chicken tenders, if you prefer protein.”

  “I’m okay. But fix yourself something if you’re hungry.”

  She closed the freezer door without pulling anything out. What was wrong with her? Chicken tenders? For breakfast?

  Willing the awkward thoughts away, she focused on action. “Is there anything I need to do? For Jillian?”

  “No, she’ll take care of everything. I’ll stick around to help her quickly with the ladder and gathering the sample and then we’ll get back to the precinct so she can take everything to the lab.”

  “That’s great.”

  And it was great. That wire was the first real evidence they had toward finding out what was going on around her. And while it could be nothing more than a string that held up a sign or some sort of lingering condominium project, it felt like something.

  Something tangible.

  Which had been woefully lacking to this point.

  “Look, I was thinking about it. And while I appreciate all of your help, you don’t need to come back later.”

  Troy looked up at her from his seat. Setting his phone facedown on the table, he stood up at her words. “What’s this about?”

  “You have a life. You have an active caseload. And there’s a killer on the loose. Your attention is needed there.”

  “My attention is needed where there’s a problem. You’ve been having a problem, Evangeline.”

  Again, that ready willingness to help her meant more than she could describe. But his cousin would be here soon and would be collecting the wire as evidence. That should get her case moving in the right direction, and they could get things figured out. He didn’t need to be wasting his time with her.

  “It’ll just be easier that way. You don’t need to keep checking up on me like I’m your responsibility.”

  “Where is this coming from? You need help right now. Not only that, but we have an active and open case dealing with what happened in that alley the other night. I’m here to help you.”

  “By moving in?”

  “I hardly think sleeping in your spare room for two nights qualifies as moving in.”

  Why was he being so calm and collected about this? She was trying to make a point, damn it. But either he didn’t hear her, or he refused to listen.

  “Look, I just don’t think you need to put all this time in on my behalf. You got me connected with Desiree and now there’s a police sketch. I’m sure that’ll be enough.”

  Before he could respond, a heavy knock came at her front door. He walked toward the exit of the kitchen but stopped to fully face her. “I’m sure that’s Jillian. I’m going to get set up with her outside. But we’re not done talking about this.”

  And then he was gone.

  As the coffee maker made its last gurgle, Evangeline fixed herself a cup. What was she going to do with him? While she might have exaggerated a bit, Troy had sort of moved in over the past couple of days. His scent lingered in the air, and even though he made the bed neat as a pin, she still knew he had been there. In her home.

  Add on the fact that the GGPD was clearly questioning his judgment about helping her and she knew they needed to put some distance in place.

  And then there was the kissing. And the sleepless night she’d experienced because of the kissing.

  She couldn’t do too many more of those. That acute sense of nonfulfillment because she knew how good it could be between them.

  It wasn’t possible to keep on the way they were. And it was even worse to think about having him so close but not be able to progress things between them.

  She considered one of those frozen waffles once again and crossed to the fridge to pull one out of the freezer. She barely had the door open when a shout came from the front of her condo.

  “Evangeline! Get out here.”

  * * *

  “I’m sorry, Troy, I don’t see anything.” Jillian Colton stared down from her perch high up on her ladder, near the dome of the streetlamp that stood sentinel in front of Evangeline’s door.

  “There’s nothing there?” Evangeline had joined them outside and stood on the other side of the ladder, helping him hold it in place.

  Troy looked up toward his cousin, squinting into the early morning sunlight. “You’re honestly telling me it’s disappeared?”

  “I’m telling you, there’s no wire. There’s nothing hanging between the two lamps.”

  “Jill, I saw it last night. I took pictures of it.”

  Jillian stared down at him, her gaze direct. “You want to come up here, then?”

  “Damn it.” He shook his head. He’d had trouble seeing the thin wire connecting the two lamps this morning but had assumed it was a function of the bright, early morning sunlight. But if there was nothing strung between the two lamps that meant someone had removed it. He’d stood here less than eight hours ago and laid eyes on it himself. “Come on down.”

  “What’s going on?” Evangeline asked.

  “I can only assume whoever put what looked like a wire up there was actually stringing the fuse to the firecrackers.”

  “And?”

  “And they’re the same person who pulled it back down.”

  “Right outside my door?”

  “Yeah.” Right outside her door. All while he was inside, kissing her, completely distracted from his surroundings. He let out a quiet curse, before reaching for Jillian’s hand to help her down the last few ladder steps.

  Jillian squeezed his hand gently. “I’m sorry, Troy. I just don’t see anything.”

  “Because it’s gone.” Troy had already shown her the photos on his phone, but he flipped to them again, handing the device over to Jillian. He was disgusted, but also knew they were on to something.

  Finally.

  “Based on what you described, that had to be the fuse,” Jillian scrolled through the digital photos. “Because at this point, if it was just some innocuous leftover from another event, it would still be hanging there.”

  He couldn’t deny how good it felt to have Jillian’s support on this as she handed him back his phone. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

  “Help me move this ladder over to the other light. I do want to take some scrapings from up there and see if we can get a handle on the firecrackers that were used. It’s a long shot, especially now that it’s summer and they’re being sold in about a million places, but it’s a place to start.”

  Grateful for something to do, he folded the ladder and moved it to the lamp closest to Evangeline’s door. He didn’t miss the way she’d gone quiet, giving them space to do the work. Nor did he did miss the rising fear, evidenced by her thinned lips and clasped hands. Even with her fear, she did step forward as Jillian began the climb back up, holding her side of the ladder and ensuring Jillian had a solid space to work.

  His cousin was thorough, and it didn’t take her long to get what she needed. She wore a utility apron tied around her waist, and pulled out any number of tweezers, plastic bags and evidence labels as she worked.

  “She’s good and very prepared,” Evangeline
said.

  “She is. She’s one of the best CSI team members we have. Just one more reason to be monumentally pissed off at Randall Bowe.”

  “Because he didn’t appreciate her?”

  “Because he tried to pin his misdeeds on her.”

  The fear he had observed so recently shifted and changed as Evangeline’s black eyes lit with fury. “That bastard. Is there anyone’s career in Grave Gulch he didn’t try to mess with or ruin outright?”

  “At this point, I’m afraid not many.”

  Evangeline quieted, and he could see that fury shift and take on a new dimension, almost as if she channeled it. “Is it possible he did this?”

  “Set the fuse?”

  “The firecrackers, placing and removing the fuse. If he knows how to tamper with evidence, presumably he knows how to set it, too.”

  “That’s an interesting take. The latest intel we have suggests he left Grave Gulch, but it’s entirely possible he hasn’t.”

  “If this is his home base, why would he?”

  It was a good point and something he would add to his ongoing list of all things Randall Bowe. He had been working on Bowe’s background, looking for any information he could find, including a brother the man was reported to have. Part of the hunt for the brother was to get information on Randall, but to also see if he had provided a hidey-hole.

  It had seemed like the most likely choice, but Troy was grateful for the fresh perspective. A chance to bounce his working theories off someone was priceless. “True, but why would he stay? He can’t go out. We’re hunting for him to take him in and prosecute him for his crimes. If he’s stayed close, he’s got to have some sort of system set up to keep himself fed and off the radar.”

  All the more reason Bowe’s brother, Baldwin, made sense as a probable hide out. Melissa had already been in consistent contact with Randall’s estranged wife, Muriel, and the woman swore up and down she’d had no contact with him. She swore even more vehemently she wouldn’t harbor him if he did show up and ask for help, and her protests hadn’t been all that hard to believe. While anything was possible when dealing with people and emotions, he’d gotten the solid sense the man’s estranged wife would likely be the last person to step up and help him.