by Rita Herron
* * *
DEX COULD HANDLE a reprimand, but not in front of someone else, especially a woman he cared about.
Cared about?
Why had he thought that? He’d known Melissa a long time ago, but there was nothing between them now. Except his protective instincts kicked in full force when she was around. And he sure as hell didn’t want to be shut out of this investigation.
He and Melissa both wanted answers. Answers that he would find.
He brushed her back with his hand. “Melissa, please...?”
For a brief second she looked as if she was going to argue, but then she glanced back at Lamar, and nodded. He clenched his jaw as he watched her climb into his SUV.
Lamar was texting on his phone when Dex turned back to him.
“Tell me exactly what happened?” Lamar asked.
“Like I said on the phone, someone was inside when we arrived.” He gestured toward the parking lot. “I spotted a black sedan in the back.”
“Any other vehicles around?”
Dex shook his head. “No. The place was dark inside, except for a flashlight beam. That’s how I knew someone was in there.”
Lamar studied him. “Then what?”
“I looked in the window to see who it was, but then someone started shooting.” He walked over to the window and pointed out the broken glass. “Melissa and I ducked to avoid being hit, then I saw movement inside.”
“Was there one person or two?” Lamar asked.
Dex chewed the inside of his cheek. “One. At least I didn’t see anyone else.”
“How about the car? Anyone inside it when you got here?”
Dex shook his head again. “No. It was empty.”
Lamar scribbled something in his pocket notepad. “Did you see what the shooter looked like?”
“Afraid not. Like I said, it was dark inside. And he ran out the back.”
“License plate on the car?”
“No.” Dex felt like a failure as an investigator. Dammit, he wished he could offer more concrete information. But he’d been too busy dodging bullets and worrying about protecting Melissa to chase the bastard.
Lamar examined the window and peered through the broken glass. He dug a bullet casing from the window edge. “You said he shot at you. Did you fire back?”
Dex didn’t want to answer, but he had to. Lamar’s people would find two different types of bullets when they searched inside.
“Dex?”
“Yeah.” He removed his weapon from the back of his jeans and held it out to Lamar. “I fired twice. You can check.”
Lamar’s gaze met his. “Did you hit him?”
“I don’t think so. I was just trying to warn him off.”
Lamar scoffed. “You know I could haul you in.”
“But you aren’t going to,” Dex said. “Because technically I fired in self-defense. And you, my friend, don’t want to waste time when it’ll go nowhere.”
Besides, he hadn’t really crossed the line.
He would, though, if necessary, to find out the truth about Smith and what was going on with these shelters.
* * *
MELISSA WATCHED THE interchange between Dex and Detective Lamar, her curiosity piqued as to how the two of them had met and become friends.
Her phone buzzed, and she checked the number, expecting it to be her coworker April. Instead the name of the director at another shelter appeared. Candace Fuller from Retreat. She’d once worked closely with Candace and they still had coffee on occasion.
She quickly connected the call.
“Melissa, I heard about the shooting. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” Melissa said, then explained what had happened. “The police are looking for Smith, but I don’t think he’s dangerous. He saved my life.”
“I’m just glad you’re okay.” Candace paused. “There’s another reason I called.”
Melissa tapped her fingers on her leg. She didn’t like the worry in her friend’s voice. “What’s wrong?”
“A man named Bill Small at Retreat thinks something has happened to one of his friends. He claims he disappeared.”
“Did you report it to the police?” Melissa asked.
Candace sighed. “Yes, but they don’t seem concerned.”
Sounded typical. A crime scene van pulled into the parking lot, and she saw Dex heading toward her.
“Why does Bill think something happened to his friend?” Melissa asked.
“He saw the story about some other missing homeless men, and said his friend expressed concern over them, too. He disappeared the next day.”
Melissa’s breath stalled in her chest. “Is Bill still at Retreat?”
“Yes.”
“I’m with a private detective right now, Candace. We’ll stop by and talk to Bill.”
Chapter Six
Thirty minutes later, Dex parked at Retreat, his curiosity aroused by what Melissa had told him. Lamar’s last words echoed in his head.
“Let me do the police work. And leave Melissa out of it or you’re going to get her killed.”
His friend had always cautioned him about overstepping, but today his warning had sounded different. Almost like a threat. As if he didn’t stay out of it, Lamar would see that his PI license might be revoked? That he’d lock him up for interfering?
He didn’t give a damn. No one stopped Dexter Hawk when he was on a mission.
“Tell me about this shelter,” Dex said as they walked up to the entryway.
“Because of its location, it’s one of the busiest,” Melissa said. “I worked with Candace for a short while until a position opened up at Lend-A-Hand.”
‘Why did you make the move?”
Melissa shrugged. “I just saw a need,” she said quietly, but didn’t elaborate, making him wonder if it was one of the shelters she’d lived in as a child. Her father had dragged her around Texas, dumping them wherever and whenever he pleased.
“They house close to a hundred people here at any time,” she said. “We work with the court system and advocates for domestic violence and abuse to find places when needed for women and children, but there are a lot of men in need, too. This one stays pretty full most of the time.” She hesitated at the door and pressed the intercom buzzer for entry.
Dex swallowed hard as he scanned the property. It was set off from the street in a wooded section that shielded the cement block building from passersby on the road and was surrounded by a tall metal fence. For the residents’ protection or for the people who lived nearby in the housing projects that had been built a half mile from the shelter? Probably both.
The volunteer buzzed them in, and Melissa led the way. A young blonde about Melissa’s age greeted them and hugged Melissa, murmuring concern about the shooting the day before.
“Candace, this is Dexter Hawk,” Melissa said as the women pulled apart. “He’s a private investigator and a friend.”
Candace gave him an assessing look. “Hawk, that name sounds familiar.”
Dex offered her a smile. “My family owns a ranch in Tumbleweed. You may have read about my brother Lucas, who shut down a human trafficking ring recently.”
“That’s right,” Candace said. “And your other brother is a lawyer.”
“There are four of us,” Dex said. “My oldest brother, Harrison, is sheriff of Tumbleweed.”
Melissa cleared her throat. “Dex is looking into the man who saved my life yesterday. He’s also been investigating the disappearance of a couple of other homeless men who’ve gone missing.”
“You suspect foul play?” Candace asked.
Dex shrugged. “It’s too early to tell. But if someone is preying on these men, I want to find out who and why.”
“Can we talk to Bill now?” Melissa asked.
“Of cour
se.” Candace led the way through a small entry into a large dining area where men sat finishing breakfast and drinking coffee.
She and Melissa stopped to chat with several of them, and Dex spoke to a few men, although they looked wary of him and didn’t have much to say. Maybe they thought he was law enforcement although he was dressed in jeans and his cowboy hat.
Seeing so many needy men made him wonder if he should talk to his brothers about hiring a couple as ranch hands. Something to check into. Although the safety of his family and the foster girls took priority. Still, if they grew the cattle side of the business, they’d need more hands.
Candace paused at a long table near the door to the kitchen where an old-timer in grimy overalls sat alone. She and Melissa exchanged looks of concern as Candace stood by the table. The young woman laid her hand on the man’s shoulder and leaned over to speak to him.
He gave a little nod, then looked up at Melissa. A tentative smile softened the harsh age lines bracketing his mouth, which tightened when he spotted Dex.
“It’s okay,” Candace said softly as she introduced him as Bill Small. “Melissa and Dex are here to help find out what happened to your friend. I need you to tell them your story.”
Bill glanced into his cup of coffee as if it would give him answers, then pushed out the chair beside him, inviting Melissa to sit down. Dex walked to the opposite side of the table and claimed a chair across from Bill, then accepted a cup of coffee from Candace.
“You a cop?” Bill asked with a wary look.
Dex shook his head. “A PI. My father lived in a shelter and recently died. That started me looking at the shelters for answers about him, then I learned that several men had gone missing.”
Bill’s expression softened. “Sorry about your daddy.”
Dex nodded. He couldn’t escape the grief. “Me, too. And I’m sorry about your friend.”
The simple exchange calmed Bill. He took a sip of his coffee, wiped his mouth on a paper napkin, then set the cup down. “His name was Harry Willis. I think something bad happened to him.”
“What makes you think that?” Melissa asked.
Bill drummed crooked fingers on the table as if trying to put together his words. “Harry was kind of a loner, about my age,” Bill said. “But he had a daughter.”
“Did he keep in touch with her?” Dex asked.
Bill shook his head. “Not really. But he recently learned she had a baby. He wanted to see that kid more than anything. He was saving up money to send to his girl, hoping she’d let him visit.”
Melissa murmured a sympathetic sound. “Did he go see her?”
Bill raked a hand through his thinning white hair. “Naw, at least I don’t think so. But one night he showed up here with a wad of cash.”
Dex frowned. “Did he say where he got the money?”
“Said he did a favor for someone, and they paid him. But that worried me. He wouldn’t say who it was or what he did.”
“Could it have been a drug deal?” Melissa asked.
Bill shook his head. “Harry didn’t do drugs, and would never have sold ’em.”
Money was a powerful motivator. “Not even for money to send his daughter?” Dex asked.
“No way,” Bill said firmly. “His son OD’d when he was only nineteen. That’s what drove Harry to the streets. The guilt.”
Dex understood about guilt.
“So what happened after you talked to him about the money?” Melissa asked.
“Next day he said he was going to mail it to his daughter. Left to walk to the post office but never came back.”
Silence, thick with tension, stretched between them for a full minute. “Maybe he decided to take it to his daughter in person instead of mailing it,” Dex suggested.
Melissa’s gaze met his. “Or someone could have stolen it from him.”
The implication that he’d been killed for the money rang between them, but neither voiced it aloud.
Dex mentally made a plan. First, he’d check with the daughter to see if she’d heard from her father.
If she hadn’t, he’d check police reports and the morgue in case Harry had shown up in jail...or dead.
* * *
MELISSA HATED THE thoughts running through her head, that Harry might be dead. The men who needed their help moved around constantly. She and her father certainly had. Sure, they became friendly with others staying at the shelter, but usually not for long.
The center’s goal was to help them rejoin the work force, and take charge of their lives. They facilitated family reconciliations through counseling, assisted in arranging financial assistance, and offered programs to aid in mainstreaming the men back into society.
If someone moved of their own accord, it was usually because they didn’t form attachments or weren’t ready to accept the help offered. Pride, depression, mental illness, addictions, physical injuries or illness, emotional trauma, past criminal activities, imprisonment and PTSD were contributing factors that landed the men on the streets and were obstacles to recovery.
“Did he have any friends that he might go to or turn to for help?” Melissa asked.
Bill scratched his chin. “Said he never stayed anywhere long enough to make friends. Got antsy if he was in one place too long. He used to work odd jobs on ranches across the state when he was younger. But arthritis kicked in and joints hurt too bad for physical labor.”
Melissa gestured around the room to the other men who were dispersing. “Did you ask to see if anyone knew the nature of the job Harry did?”
“Sure did. Ms. Candace talked to them, too. But no one knew anything about the money or where it came from.”
“You said he liked to move around,” Dex cut in. “Other than the money, what makes you think he didn’t panic about seeing his daughter and move on to another city?”
Bill pushed away from the table and stood, then picked up his coffee. “Come on, I’ll show you.”
Melissa and Dex followed Bill as he carried his cup to the counter and left it to be washed. In the bunk rooms, he went to the back wall and the bed at the end.
Bill squatted down and pulled an old duffel bag from beneath the bed, then set it on the cot. “This was all Harry had to his name.” His sad eyes met Melissa’s, then he removed a photograph and showed it to them. “This was the only picture he had of his daughter. Was taken when she was five. Harry never would have left without it.”
Melissa’s heart squeezed. Bill was right. Most people kept a memento of their past life that they clung to and carried with them wherever they went. Her father had held on to a pocket watch that had belonged to his own father. She’d kept a picture of her mother that her father knew nothing about. It was in her wallet now.
“There’s something else.” Bill carefully placed the picture back in the bag.
“What?” Melissa asked.
“The day he left, I saw someone watching him. A car, a black sedan, was parked down the street. When Harry started toward the post office, it pulled out and drove real slow behind him.”
Melissa’s gaze locked with Dex’s. The man who’d shot at them at McTruitt’s office had been driving a black sedan.
* * *
DEX’S SUSPICIONS KICKED up a notch at the idea of the same black sedan following Harry as the one at McTruitt’s office. It was possible it was a different car, but everything Bill said made him wonder if Bill was right to suspect his friend had fallen prey to foul play.
He gestured toward the duffel. “Do you mind if I look through that bag?”
Bill glanced at Melissa, who nodded that it was okay, and Bill moved aside to give Dex access. He handed Bill the photo. “Hold on to that. I wouldn’t want it to get damaged.”
Bill’s look of gratitude warmed Dex’s heart. He’d just won the man’s trust and respect. Bill ran his finger over the picture with
a sad smile as Dex searched the bag. The larger section held assorted clothing. One outer pocket contained chewing gum, a fast-food wrapper from a burger joint and an empty water bottle. A small section in front held a few toiletries. He dug deeper into the inner pocket and discovered a slip of paper with a name on it.
Sally Layton.
“Was Sally the daughter’s name?” he asked Bill.
Bill nodded. “Yeah.”
A business card was tucked inside the folded scrap of paper. Dex flipped it over and saw it was a card for a large animal vet.
Dr. Bart Huckleberry. He specialized in large animal medicine and worked closely with an expert cattle breeder.
Why would Harry have a card for the vet in his pocket?
He tapped it on his hand. “Did Harry mention anything about a vet to you?”
Bill shook his head. “No, why?”
“I found this card in his bag. Maybe the vet is connected to the job he did.”
Bill shrugged as if he had no idea.
“I’ll talk to him.” Dex tucked the clothing back in the bag, but stuffed the business card in his pocket.
Sympathy tinged Melissa’s expression, and she patted Bill on the back. “Let us know if you hear anything from Harry. And we’ll do the same.”
Bill cradled Melissa’s hand between his. “Thank you so much for listening to me and trying to help.”
Melissa gave the older man a hug. “Of course.”
Admiration for Melissa and her role in helping these homeless men mushroomed in Dex’s chest.
Bill extended his hand, and Dex shook it. “Thank you, too, Mr. Dex.”
Dex cleared his throat. “We’ll do everything we can to find your friend.” He just hoped they found Harry, and that when they did, he was still alive.
Chapter Seven
As he drove away from the shelter, Dexter couldn’t shake the feeling that Bill’s friend might be dead. Needing to verify the facts, he veered into the parking lot of a place called the Barbecue Pit.
