by Rita Herron
Dex forced himself not to react, although he’d been scanning the room and the man’s desk, and he noticed a business card tucked beneath the brochures. The logo and name looked familiar.
The PI, Clark McTruitt.
“If you’ve followed the news, I suppose you’ve seen the story about the woman at the Lend-A-Hand homeless shelter being attacked.”
Vance’s eyes narrowed. “Yes.”
“The man who broke in was a private investigator, Clark McTruitt. Did you know him?”
Vance averted his gaze. “Afraid not.”
Dex raised a brow. “Really? That looks like his card on your desk.”
Baxter gave a shrug. “He could have stopped in a while back. To tell you the truth, I deal with so many people, I forget.”
Yeah, right. “So you didn’t hire him?”
“Hire him?” Baxter grunted. “Why would I need a PI?”
“I don’t know, that’s why I’m asking,” Dex said.
Baxter straightened, running his fingers over his bolo tie. “Why do I sense you’re interrogating me now? What is this really about?”
Dex maintained a neutral expression, although the air in the room became charged with resentment. “McTruitt broke in looking for a homeless man named Jim Smith.”
Baxter flattened his hands on his desk. “Again, what does that have to do with me?”
“Smith claims he has amnesia, said he was attacked years ago. He remembers coming to this auction house.”
Baxter averted his gaze. “I don’t know anyone named Jim Smith. That said, my auctions draw hundreds of people at any one event, so I can’t possibly know every one of them.”
Baxter knew more than he’d admitted. Dex had to push a little harder. He removed his phone, then showed Baxter a picture of his dead father. “I think my father was homeless before he died. I’ve also discovered there are more than a dozen homeless men who’ve disappeared over the past two decades across Texas. Two disappeared around the time my father did eighteen years ago.”
Baxter frowned. “What exactly are you implying, Mr. Hawk?”
“I think someone is preying on homeless men.” He listed the names of the most recent missing men. “I also think someone hired McTruitt to kill Smith before he could remember what happened when he was attacked.”
A calm rage seethed in Baxter’s gray eyes. “I wish I could help you, but I can’t. Now, it’s time you left. I have business to attend to.”
“Don’t you think it’s strange that the vet you work with was murdered?”
Shock bolted across Baxter’s face. “Murdered? I thought one of the bulls attacked him.”
Dex shook his head. “Whoever killed him put him in that stall so it would appear accidental.”
Another tense second passed. “That’s horrible. I certainly hope they find out who did that. But I can assure you his death has nothing to do with me.” Baxter dropped all pretense of being nice. “I don’t appreciate you coming here under the guise of wanting to work with me, Mr. Hawk. If you need to talk to me again, go through my attorney.”
Of course he’d lawyer up. That only made him look guilty to Dex.
“Understood, but if you know anything about Dr. Huckleberry’s death, or McTruitt, or these missing homeless men, then you need to speak up or you could be considered an accomplice to murder.”
Baxter shot up from his seat and gestured toward the door. “Get out.”
Dex simply smiled and thanked him, then stepped into the hallway.
His cell phone buzzed just as he passed the receptionist. Her wary gaze indicated she’d overheard their conversation.
His phone buzzed again as he stepped outside, and he checked the number. The ME from Tumbleweed. He quickly connected. “Dexter Hawk.”
“It’s Dr. Weinberger. You asked me to review your father’s autopsy report.”
“Yeah. Did you find anything?”
“As a matter of fact, I did. The tox screen was definitely positive, but there was a serious contusion on the back of your father’s head that wasn’t consistent with the accident. It cracked his skull.”
Dex froze by his vehicle. “The back of his head. He hit facedown on the steering wheel.”
“Exactly.”
“Then it’s possible that that blow to the head could have killed him?”
“Yes, it’s possible.”
Dex’s pulse pounded. If it had, then it meant his father’s death wasn’t a DUI accident.
He was murdered.
Chapter Nineteen
The realization that his father had been murdered echoed in Dex’s ears. “Is there anything else you can tell me?”
“Yes. With this much alcohol in the man’s system, it suggested he was an alcoholic, but there was no signs of liver disease in the autopsy. In fact, his liver was in great shape.”
Dex contemplated that information. “So it’s possible that someone forced the whiskey down his throat, then killed him and staged his death as an accident?”
“I can’t say with all certainty, but it’s possible.”
Dex’s pulse hammered. Why would someone have killed his father? Was his murder related to the other missing homeless men?
“I’m sorry, Dex, I understand you and your family have been through a lot.”
“Thanks, I appreciate your help,” Dex said gruffly. “What we want now is the truth.”
He ended the call, then dialed Lucas as he got in his SUV and started the engine. Lucas sounded slightly harried as he answered.
“Everything okay?” Dex asked.
“Yeah, but Charlotte was having some contractions. Turned out to be a false alarm. Braxton-Hicks. We just got back from the hospital. But I did pick up that card and dropped it off to have the prints analyzed.”
“Thanks, Lucas.” He paused, then pushed on. “I asked Dr. Weinberger to review Dad’s autopsy.”
Lucas sighed. “And?”
Dex relayed his conversation with the ME. “You’ll probably think this is a long shot, but there were two other homeless men who disappeared around the time Chrissy and Dad did. I think it’s all connected. That Dad was murdered because he knew something about it.”
A long pause. “All right, we’ll look into it. I’ll compile a board with all the facts you’ve uncovered so far and persons of interest. Send me anything else you’ve dug up.”
His phone was buzzing with another call. Melissa. Dammit, what if something was wrong?
“Melissa’s calling, Lucas. Let me make sure she’s all right.”
They agreed to meet to review the information they’d gathered and pool their mental resources, then he quickly connected to Melissa.
A ragged breath echoed over the line, making nerves coil inside his belly.
“Melissa? Are you all right?”
Another second passed, then a low cry. Fear stole his breath.
“Talk to me, darlin’. What’s wrong?”
“It’s Gunther...” she said in a raw whisper. “I found him...dead...outside the shelter.”
Dexter pressed the accelerator and swung onto the highway. “Hang on. I’m on my way.”
Terror for Melissa choked him as he sped toward the shelter.
* * *
APRIL JOINED MELISSA outside the shelter while they waited on the ambulance and police.
“Poor Gunther,” April said with tears in her eyes. “The volunteer at Another Chance said he was excited about that work. And now...he’ll never have a chance to get his life back together.”
“I know, it’s not fair,” Melissa said.
“Do you think he was attacked by a thief or gang?” April asked.
“Dex thinks the other missing men are connected to Jim Smith.” Melissa hesitated. “Maybe Jim Smith uncovered what was going on with them, and someone tried to
kill him to cover it up.”
The ambulance rolled up, a police car on its tail. Medics jumped out and rushed toward her, and Detective Lamar exited his vehicle and followed. “What happened?”
“I came outside to catch a cab to go home, and I heard a noise in the alley.” The image of that bloody hand reaching for help flashed behind her eyes. “Then I found Gunther bleeding and...gasping for breath.”
The detective tugged his gun belt up on his hips. “You know the victim?”
Melissa nodded. “He stayed here at the shelter. He was...a good guy.”
Melissa stepped away from Gunther. April hovered beside her, twisting her hands together.
A second later, the ME arrived and walked over to them. One of the medics stood with a negative shake of his head indicating there was nothing they could do, then addressed the ME. “We’ll transport him when you’re ready.”
Detective Lamar crossed to Gunther, pulled on gloves, then stooped down beside the ME who was conducting his own examination. Melissa strained to hear their conversation, but they spoke in hushed tones.
The detective snapped a few photos on his phone, then made a phone call before turning back to her. “A crime team is on the way. Ms. Gentry, did you hear anything or see anyone else when you came out here?”
“I heard voices farther down the alley. But I didn’t recognize them or hear what they were saying.” Melissa massaged her temple. “Then I thought I heard footsteps running.”
“This is a busy part of town with bars nearby,” the detective pointed out.
Melissa shifted. That was true.
The sound of tires screeching halted their conversation, and Dex sped into the parking lot, jumped out and jogged toward her.
Detective Lamar acknowledged him with a grunt.Concern darkened Dex’s eyes. “Are you okay?”
She nodded. Emotions thickened her throat. “I found Gunther in the alley, but...he didn’t make it.”
Dex scanned the alley, then glanced at the body. “What was the cause of death?”
Detective Lamar jammed his hands on his hips. “Bled out from a gunshot wound to the chest. Close range.”
“What caliber of gun?”
The detective pulled a baggie from his pocket and dangled it. “.45. Bullet was a through and through. I’ll log it into evidence and see if it matches any from another crime.”
The ME strode toward them. “I’ll do the autopsy as soon as possible. But I have a couple stacked up in front of him.”
Detective Lamar turned to Melissa. “Do you know who his next of kin is?”
Melissa blinked back tears. So many of the homeless died alone with no one to mourn them or give them a proper burial. She hated for Gunther to be added to the list. “He didn’t have any family.”
“Then he’ll be buried by the county,” Detective Lamar said.
“No,” Dex cut in. “I’ll cover the cost of his funeral.”
Melissa’s heart melted at Dex’s generosity. His thoughtfulness and respect for the people she tried to help moved her more than words.
He was such an honorable man.
No wonder she’d fallen for him ten years ago, and was falling for him again.
* * *
DEX STUDIED THE scene as the crime workers arrived and began to comb the alleys and trash cans for the murder weapon and forensic evidence.
He was damn glad to see that Melissa was all right. Upset, but at least she wasn’t harmed.
She and April retreated inside the shelter to tie up plans so they could reopen, although he wondered if another murder so close to the shelter might make them rethink that decision. He sure as hell didn’t want her anywhere near this place.
But telling Melissa that would only cause an argument. She was determined to help others at any cost to herself.
For God’s sake, someone had to protect the damn woman.
A plan formed in his mind. He’d arrange for security cameras for the exterior of the premises to be installed. Simply having them in place would deter some criminals from approaching, and the cameras would help capture the goings-on around the shelter. Better security should have been put in place a long time ago.
But these facilities operated on government funds that were slim and didn’t leave room for extras.
He had a little money put aside. He’d make it his mission to help if he could.
The ME walked over to where he stood by Lamar and addressed the detective. “When your crime techs finish with their pictures, you can have the body transported to the morgue. I’ll be there working.”
Detective Lamar nodded. “Shouldn’t be long.”
Dr. Hudson scowled at Dex. “I heard your ME in Tumbleweed pulled my report on your father.”
Dex bit the inside of his cheek. “I did. And he told me something you failed to mention.”
Dr. Hudson raised a brow. “I put everything in my report.”
Detective Lamar glanced between the men. “What’s this about, Dex?”
Dex spoke in a lethally calm voice. “Dr. Weinberger said my father had a cracked skull from a blow to the back of his head. That blow could have killed him, but you didn’t mention it.”
The ME squared his shoulders, chin jutted up in challenge. “That injury looked old. I didn’t find clear evidence to substantiate that it was COD.”
“Then maybe you made a mistake,” Dex suggested.
Irritation flared in the doctor’s eyes. Detective Lamar stepped in. “Dex, don’t start throwing stones. Considering the amount of alcohol in your father’s bloodstream, and the trauma to the front of his head, Dr. Hudson’s conclusions seem spot-on.”
One of the crime techs motioned to Lamar, and he hurried over to the dumpster. Dex followed, curious. The male tech, who was knee-deep in the dumpster, lifted a bloody rag from the trash. “Looks like gunpowder residue on the rag. Maybe the killer wrapped it around the gun when he fired to drown out the noise.”
Lamar handed the crime tech a bag, and the man slipped the rag inside. “Test it for GSR, prints and DNA. If we find a match, we can catch this guy.”
Dex shifted. Maybe they’d finally gotten a lead. But if a serial predator had been killing homeless men for years, why would he be so sloppy to dump a rag with his DNA on it so near where he’d disposed of a body? And why leave this body in plain sight when so many others hadn’t been recovered?
Because they aren’t all connected. Some of them are just missing transients.
That was the logical answer. And it could be true—but at least some of them were related. Dex would bet his PI license on that.
The fact that someone had tried to kill him and Melissa proved they were on the right track.
Lamar angled his head toward Dex. “It’s obvious you care about this woman. Why don’t you take Melissa home and away from all this?”
“I need answers,” Dex said. “Thinking my father died in a DUI accident is eating me up inside.”
Lamar gripped his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “I’m sorry for what your family has been through. Trust me, I’m here for you.”
Lamar had rescued Dex when he was in trouble years ago, had mentored him and been a role model. Sure he’d skirted the line, but he never quite crossed it and was relentless in digging for the truth, always solving the case and making sure the victims received justice.
He had to trust his buddy. He wouldn’t let him down. “Thanks. I think I will drive Melissa home. She deserves for someone to take care of her for a change.”
Lamar’s understanding expression indicated that Dex was in trouble where Melissa was concerned. Dex couldn’t deny it, either.
He was drowning so deep in her sweetness, he didn’t know if anyone could pull him out from under her spell.
Worse, he didn’t know if he wanted to be pulled out.
* * *
“ARE YOU SURE we should reopen?” April asked. “Under the circumstances, I’m afraid letting people come here will endanger them.”
Melissa couldn’t shake the image of Gunther from her mind. “You’re right. We should hold off. Will you let the other shelters know?”
“Of course.” April hugged her. “Are you going to be okay tonight alone?”
“She won’t be alone.”
Dex’s gruff voice sounded protective, almost territorial. April raised a questioning brow as he approached.
“I’ll guard her tonight and make sure she’s safe.”
Melissa started to argue, but truthfully, she didn’t want to be alone. She wanted Dex with her.
“Thanks, April. How about you? Will you be okay?”
April nodded. “I called my boyfriend. I’m going to his place for the night.”
“Good.” Melissa hugged her again, and then turned to Dexter.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s go home.”
“The crime cleanup team is at my house,” Melissa said. “I was supposed to meet them.”
“You aren’t going there now.” He removed his phone from his belt and sent a quick text. “They’ll take care of things and lock up. Tomorrow we’ll talk about installing security cameras at the shelter and your house.”
She didn’t argue with that, either. At this point, anything to ensure the safety of the men and volunteers at the shelter was important.
She and April agreed to talk later, and Dex walked her to his SUV. His jaw was set tight, the silence thick as they drove back to Hawk’s Landing.
When they arrived at his cabin, he ushered her inside as if he thought someone might be on their tails.
Pain radiated from him as he faced her in the kitchen. Something had happened to upset him. Something he hadn’t told her yet. “Dex? What’s wrong?”
“The ME’s report on my father. Dr. Weinberger says he suffered blunt force trauma to the back of his head.”
“I don’t understand,” Melissa whispered. “You mean in the accident?”
