Sloan looked genuinely insulted. "You don't trust me."
"You have a massive blind spot when it comes to your father."
"And you appear to have a fixation with pinning these murders on him. My father is not our primary suspect. Leland and Donna Hendricks are."
"They're two of many."
The corner of his mouth lifted. "We're arguing again. That's a good thing."
"Yes." She smiled. "It feels more natural than the accidental kiss, doesn't it?"
He didn't answer.
Instead Sloan tipped his head toward her apartment. "Check that bandage, eat and rest. Oh—and, Carley, lock your door tonight."
She experienced another of those knee-jerk reactions. "I'm not in the habit of doing that."
"Then get in the habit."
"And what happens when the housekeeper starts blabbing to everyone in town that I lock my door?" She stepped inside, turned and faced him. "That's not a sterling endorsement for the town sheriff."
"Let the housekeeper blab. Let the town think what they will. Just lock your door."
Because that sounded like an order and because Sloan strolled away as if he knew that his order would automatically be obeyed, Carley decided to defy him. She slammed the door between them.
And she didn't lock it.
Why?
Because this killer was a coward, that's why. The shot to the window of her office had proved that. The SOB had tried to shoot her in the back.
That riled her to the core.
But it also meant the killer likely wouldn't show up at her apartment for a face-to-face confrontation. And that in itself told her something critical about the person she was trying to catch.
Who was the sneaky, cowardly sort who would do just about anything?
Definitely Leland Hendricks.
Donna seemed a little too prim and proper to be skulking around in the woods in her pricey shoes and designer clothes. But then, Carley couldn't see Jim McKinney aiming at a woman's back.
Sarah's and Lou Ann's murders had been crimes filled with passion. Two victims strangled in the heat of the moment. The attempts on her life, however, had been with a gun rigged with a silencer. It was a weapon meant to conceal a crime, which meant premeditation. The weapon was also meant to put distance between the killer and the victim. Unlike strangulation, which was "hands-on," the most personal way to murder someone.
So, did that mean there were two people—a killer and a would-be killer who was after her?
While Carley considered that, she unbuttoned her uniform shirt and Kevlar vest so she could check the bandage. It had indeed come loose and was pulling at her skin. It was time for a complete redressing. Carley headed to the bathroom, but she paused a moment to look out the window.
It occurred to her that this was the same view that Sloan had since he was in the room directly beneath her. Heck, he was probably looking out, as well.
Searching those woods for a killer.
Carley searched the woods, too, but her attention came back to Main Street. Specifically to a dark four-door car parked a half block from the inn. She didn't recognize the vehicle, and the windows were tinted. There was also mud or something covering the front license plate.
She mentally shrugged, ready to dismiss it. After all, there was no law against tinted windows, muddy plates and parking on Main Street. But the car pulled from the curb and slowly began to drive away.
With its lights off.
She slid her hand over her stomach to steady it. Normally a slow-moving car wouldn't have elicited such a stomach-tightening reaction. But that was before someone had tried to kill her. Twice.
She considered going after the vehicle, but it'd be long gone before she could even make it outside. Besides, it was probably nothing.
Probably.
But it was that small, niggling doubt and Sloan's order echoing in her head that got her moving back to her door. Because, despite her earlier theory about the shooter being a coward, there was no certainty that he or she wouldn't come after her again.
In her own apartment.
Sloan was right about one thing—no amount of Kevlar could protect her from a direct shot. And nothing was a hundred percent—not even Sloan's assurances that he would stop this maniac from coming after her. If she hoped to do the job she'd sworn to do, she couldn't stay in hiding. She had to get out there.
In the open.
Where her next step could be her last.
And she had to do that while convincing the people of the town that she was as fearless and as brave as the men before her who'd worn the badge.
Carley locked the door, leaned against it and tried to blink back the tears that she knew she couldn't stop.
Chapter Seven
Sloan gulped down the remainder of his second cup of coffee and then motioned for the waitress to pour him another one. Carley quickly finished up her own cup so it could be refilled, as well.
It was her fourth.
And Sloan was definitely keeping count.
Carley mumbled a thanks to the waitress, but she didn't take her eyes off what was in front of her. And what was in front of her were copies of Lou Ann's papers that Sarah had brought with her to Justice. Sloan had given copies to Carley at the start of what was supposed to be a working breakfast. So far, she had done a lot of work in the form of reading the papers and she'd had enough coffee to float a ship, but she hadn't taken a bite of her buckwheat pancakes topped with fresh blueberries.
"Rough night?" Sloan asked once the waitress had stepped away.
She shrugged. "Why do you ask?"
"For one thing, because of the volume of coffee you've consumed. You've also yawned three times, and your eyes are red."
"Must be allergies," she mumbled with her attention still focused on the papers.
Sloan didn't buy that for a minute. "Or maybe, like me, you didn't sleep well. It's my guess you spent most of the night looking out your window, watching for a killer."
"I looked a few times," she admitted. "I take it you did some window watching, too?"
"A little."
Carley hesitated, scraping her thumbnail over the coffee cup handle. What she didn't do was look at him. "Did you see the car?"
Sloan blinked, certainly not expecting that question. "What car?"
"The one parked on Main Street about a half block from the inn. Dark blue, maybe black. Four-door. An obscured front license plate. It drove away with its headlights off."
Sloan no longer needed caffeine. That got him wide-awake. "And after you saw this suspicious car, you didn't think to come and get me?"
That earned him a huff. "I can't come and get you every time something unnerves me."
"Why not?" And he was serious, too. Heck, he wanted her to do just that.
"Because lately everything unnerves me, okay?" She quickly looked away and stared down at the papers. But Sloan didn't think for minute that she was actually reading them. No, there was something else going on here.
Something that he understood.
Unfortunately it wasn't something he could talk Carley through. Heck, he couldn't even help her. Probably the only thing that would help was to catch the killer so she'd finally feel safe again.
"Maybe we could ask around," he suggested. Best to get her focused on the aspects of the case they could control. "Maybe someone saw the car."
"It was late, well past business hours, and the car had heavily tinted windows. On top of that, it doesn't belong to one of our suspects."
"You don't know that for sure. Leland has at least a dozen employees. He could have borrowed one of their vehicles. The same holds true for Donna." He glanced around the diner. "There are two cooks and three waitresses working right now. Maybe Donna used one of their cars."
"But why would either of them do that?" Carley immediately demanded. "There's no motive for lurking around outside the inn."
Oh, yes, there was.
Sloan could think of a really bad motive.
M
aybe the person hoped that Carley would come outside so he or she could take another shot at her. Perhaps Sloan and she had thwarted the gunperson's plan by coming in through the back entrance of the inn.
Judging from the sudden death grip that Carley had on her coffee cup, she suspected that, as well. It could have turned into a fatal walk if they'd chosen to go the route of Main Street.
Sloan saw it then. That slight tremble of her bottom lip. He might have done something to try to comfort her, but she spoke before he could.
"So what's your initial impression of Lou Ann's papers?" she asked.
Sloan considered telling her not to change the subject, but even he had to admit it was a subject that needed changing. Camaraderie was one thing, but there was no reason it had to lead to compassion.
Carley lifted her eyebrow, obviously waiting for him to answer.
"I think Lou Ann was a very calculating woman who wanted to make sure she covered as many bases as possible," Sloan concluded.
"Amen." Was that relief in her voice? Sloan wondered if it was caused by the change of subject or Carley's genuine interest in the notes. Probably a little of both.
"Lou Ann managed to copy a lot of incriminating things when she was married to Leland," Carley continued. "There are receipts for bottles of scotch and drugs for Donna. If Donna consumed half of what was purchased for her, she must have stayed drunk most of the time."
"And probably did," Sloan provided. "She wouldn't have wanted anyone, including Leland, to know that she was drinking that much. He could have—and did—use her alcoholism as leverage to get custody of their son."
"And yet Lou Ann managed to get proof of Donna's drinking. Well, at least proof that the booze and the prescription drugs had been purchased. Lou Ann even got her hands on some of Leland's handwritten memos where he bribed a county official to get a permit to drill oil on a wildlife preserve." She paused. "Do you think Lou Ann planned to blackmail Leland and Donna with all of this?"
"I'm sure that crossed her mind. But, of course, as far as we know, Lou Ann never got around to doing that because she was killed."
"Perhaps by one of the very people she intended to blackmail." Carley made a sound to indicate she was thinking about that. "So here's what I gather from all of the notes and copied memos. Leland was virtually broke. He wanted money and he wanted it fast. So he came up with the fake kidnapping and murder plot so he could collect his son's life insurance policy."
Sloan nodded. "To carry through with the fake kidnapping, Leland wanted Lou Ann to take his toddler son and go into hiding. But Lou Ann wasn't so keen on the idea of babysitting Leland's kid."
Carley picked up on the summary when he stopped. "So Lou Ann contacted an old friend from Vegas who was supposed to come and get the boy."
"In the meantime, Leland was going to fake the kidnapping and make it look as if his son was murdered. He planned to do that by stockpiling some of his son's blood and having Lou Ann plant it at the supposed crime scene. But it all backfired when Lou Ann was killed and…whatever happened to the child?" Sloan asked.
Carley glanced back through the notes. "There's no memo for that. Maybe because Lou Ann didn't know. But there's certainly a lot of detail here, and that makes me inclined to believe that Sarah might have been able to figure out what happened to her mother."
"Me, too," Sloan answered. "In fact, if she'd lived, I think Sarah would have been able to tell us who murdered her mother."
She made a sound of agreement. "And that's the reason I believe Sarah died." Carley tapped the top page. "So do you think the killer saw these papers and realized they could point the finger at him or her?"
"It's possible. Or maybe the person didn't actually see the papers. Maybe Sarah told them. She wasn't exactly tight-lipped about her return to town. Plus, she chose to meet her sister in the very room where their mother had been murdered. Someone would have definitely gotten wind of that."
Carley blew out a deep breath. "We're back to trying to figure out who Sarah called. And how."
"Zane figures that Sarah used one of those prepaid cell phones and that's why we haven't been able to trace any of the calls she made. If we follow through with that, then the killer likely took the phone, because it would have contained his or her number. That would have been a direct tie to a murdered woman."
She nodded, paused. "Well, we know Sarah phoned her sister, Anna, and she called Leland and several former members of his household staff who'd worked for him during the fake-kidnapping escapade. She even called your father."
"Yes. With the exception of the call to our father, Zane verified those calls when he processed the case and took statements from all interested parties. And as for Donna, she could have easily learned that Lou Ann's daughter was back in town and could have made plans to eliminate Sarah before the woman could talk."
He didn't want to think that the same could apply to his father.
Carley groaned. "There's Kimberly Parsons," she mumbled. "She's staring at us."
Kimberly Parsons. His date for the senior prom. He started to look back, but Carley gave him a rather hard nudge with her shoe on his shin.
"Don't look at her," Carley warned. "I don't want her coming over here."
But it was too late. Sloan had already started his glance back and he saw the leggy redhead slide out of her booth and make her way toward them.
Carley groaned. "Told you," she complained under her breath.
"Well, well. If it isn't Sloan McKinney," Kimberly greeted, her voice as smooth as warm whiskey. "I heard you were back in town." She reached over and skimmed her index finger over his badge. "And you're a Texas Ranger now."
Sloan recognized that come-hither look in those familiar dove-gray eyes and he ignored it. He didn't have the time or the inclination to play around with Kimberly. "Carley and I are investigating Sarah Wallace's murder."
"Carley," Kimberly repeated. She aimed a weak, mechanical smile at Carley, but that smile warmed up considerably when she looked at him. "I'm an RN at Dr. Evans's clinic. Maybe you could stop by sometime?"
"I'm really tied up with the case."
Kimberly wasn't taking no for an answer. "Try. I'd love to see you and talk over old times."
Sloan gave her a vague nod so that she'd leave and then he had to face Carley's semiamused expression. "Try," Carley repeated in a mock-sultry voice.
"Hey, what can I say? It's the Ranger outfit. It's a magnet for old flames."
"It's a magnet, period." She plucked a blueberry from her stack of pancakes and popped it in her mouth. "In Texas, that badge is an aphrodisiac."
"Really?" He couldn't resist. "Is that why you applied to be a Ranger?"
The blueberry apparently lodged in her throat, because she sputtered out a cough. "How did you know about that?"
"My boss mentioned it because he noticed we were from the same town. He asked if I knew you."
The color drained from her face. "And what did you tell him?"
"The truth," Sloan said quickly just so she wouldn't lose any more color. "I told him that from what I'd heard, you'd been doing a great job in Justice. I mentioned that armed bank robber you nabbed, the one that was on the FBI's Most Wanted list."
"That collar was a fluke, not a testament to my skills as a law-enforcement officer. When the man tried to check into the inn, I recognized him from his Wanted poster." Carley waved off her accomplishment as if it were nothing. "Besides, being a Ranger is a pipe dream for me."
"Why?"
"You have to ask? Well, for one thing, I'm not presently a member of the Department of Public Safety."
"But you left your position only a few months ago. Before that, you were there for several years," Sloan reminded her. "Didn't you join not long after I became the deputy here in Justice?"
That brought some color back to her cheeks. "You mean the deputy job we competed for and you got? Yes, that one. Actually, I finished up my degree in criminal justice first and then applied to DPS. I also have my
mandatory two years of duty at the department, but I'd still have to have a waiver to be a Ranger since I'm not presently working at DPS."
"A waiver like that could be approved," he insisted. "Especially since you have your degree and because you gave up your job with DPS to help out a town in need of a sheriff. Plus, you have a sterling record."
"I'm a small-town female rookie sheriff," Carley corrected. "I don't have a state baseball championship under my belt, I've never ridden in a rodeo and I'm not a good ole boy."
Sloan exaggerated a breath of relief. "Believe me, I'm thankful for that last part."
She frowned at him. "Be serious."
"Oh, I am being serious. We had that, uh, accident with our mouths bumping together. That wouldn't have happened if you'd been a boy."
"Very funny," she said with sarcasm, but her brief smile was genuine.
Sloan could have pressed for this to continue, he could have put her more at ease, but he knew that would be playing with fire. Carley and he needed solidarity between them to work together on this case, but they didn't need anything personal developing.
He repeated that to himself.
Several times.
"Uh-oh. There's Donna Hendricks," Carley mumbled.
Well, that got his mind back on business. "Is she coming over here, too?"
"No, I think she's trying to ignore us."
"Good. Maybe she'll continue to do that. I don't want to talk to her again until we've made some progress with Lou Ann's papers."
Carley covered her mouth with her hand and groaned softly. "She keeps glancing over here."
"Maybe that's because you keep glancing over there," he pointed out.
"Heck, here she comes. Act surprised so she won't think we were talking about her."
Sloan gave Carley a flat look. "What good would acting surprised possibly do?"
"I don't want her to know that we're talking about her or she'll probably feel cornered. I think it's best if she believes Leland is our number one suspect. That way Donna might open up more."
Well, it wasn't totally logical, but it had some merit. Donna was far friendlier than her ex. However, that wasn't saying much since Sloan always got the feeling that Donna's "nice moments" were a facade. "Still, she might provide us with something we can use to arrest Leland."
Trace Evidence in Tarrant... Page 6
