She made a sweeping glance around the tiny room that they were now sharing as an office. There were no windows. Not anymore. Several years earlier the space had been modified from an office to do double duty as an extra jail cell and interrogation room. It felt more like the former than the latter. But, of course, without windows, the gunman wouldn't have an easy way to make a repeat attack.
"A diversionary tactic," Sloan commented. "Nice try. But it won't work. When you saw that letter, you looked as if you were facing a life-or-death situation."
Well, it wasn't that grave. But it was close.
Carley stared at him, waiting for him to return to his desk. He didn't. She didn't know why she thought he would. Sloan wasn't going to drop this.
"If you must know, it's a letter from the Rangers' selection board. I suspect it'll let me know if I've made it to the next round of the selection process." She moistened her lips. "Or if my application has been declined."
Sloan's expression brightened. "Then open it and find out which."
"Later." She tried to sound nonchalant and was sure she failed.
Carley took a deep breath, ready to defend her decision, but a defense wasn't necessary. She was saved by the bell. Or, rather, the ringing from Sloan's cell phone. He tossed her a look that let her know this conversation wasn't over and he took the call.
Sloan, too, went through a change in body language after just a few seconds. He became focused on the call. Carley listened to his responses to try to figure out what was going on. Judging from his clipped voice, this was something big and it was connected to the case.
"What happened?" she demanded the moment he hung up the phone.
"That call was from a fellow Ranger who's been tailing Donna all morning. He followed her into Dallas, where she went into a bank and bought a cashier's check for a thousand dollars. The Ranger questioned the clerk and the bank manager. They finally admitted that Donna buys a thousand-dollar cashier's check every month."
"A thousand dollars," Carley repeated. And in the form of a cashier's check, at that. "So who's the recipient?"
Sloan shook his head. "The bank employees didn't know. Do you think this could be blackmail money?"
"Possibly. But who would be blackmailing her?"
"Leland, maybe?"
Carley made a sound of disagreement. "She'd rather eat razor blades than give money to her ex."
"Maybe he didn't give her a choice."
"Yes. That would be the only way Donna would pay him. But Leland's not the only possibility. Basically it could be anyone who might have seen Donna near Lou Ann that night. Maybe Donna's paying hush money to keep her presence unknown because just being in the vicinity of Lou Ann's murder would be enough for us to arrest her."
"True. If it is blackmail money."
"You have another idea?" Carley asked.
"Too many of them. Maybe she has a gambling habit. Or a pet charity project. Maybe she's making payments to someone who loaned her money off the books. It could even be some kind of investment scheme that's perfectly legal—"
"Okay. I see what you mean. The monthly checks could be sinister. Or not." Carley snapped her fingers. "Where did Donna go after she left the bank?"
Sloan couldn't stop himself from frowning. "While the Ranger was talking with the bank manager, he requested that a plainclothes officer from Dallas PD follow Donna. The officer lost her."
Until Sloan added that last part, Carley's hopes were soaring. That caused them to sink like dead-weight. "He did what?"
"There was a traffic jam, and he ended up several cars behind her. Donna caught the traffic light just right and sped off. He couldn't catch up with her."
"Well, that's just great. We'll have to wait another month before she buys another check. And it might not even happen. She might have noticed the cop following her. If she's suspicious, it could be the last time she steps foot in that bank."
"Yeah. I considered that. But if Donna got suspicious, it means she has something to hide."
"The question is, what?"
"There's only one way to find out. We put her back under surveillance until she gives us what we need to know." Sloan took out his phone. "And I'll see if any businesses or office buildings around that traffic jam in Dallas had exterior surveillance cameras."
"Great idea. Because if she gave that check to someone in Dallas, we might have video proof of it."
"And it might break this case wide-open," Sloan concurred.
That got Carley to work. She grabbed the number for the Dallas police so she could start making calls. Maybe it wouldn't take long to contact the businesses who might have recorded Donna's car and ultimately her destination.
Then Carley could find a quiet place, away from Sloan, to read the letter. No matter the results, it would change her life forever.
* * *
"ANY LUCK?" SLOAN ASKED.
Carley shook her head. "You?"
"Not yet." It was an overly optimistic answer considering he had no more calls on his list to make. So far, he'd phoned sixteen places of business and requested that they review their surveillance systems to see if they'd captured the image of Donna's car in that Dallas traffic jam.
Not one had.
"How many more places do you have left to call?" Sloan asked Carley.
She made a zero with her index finger and thumb. "Shop owners apparently don't make a habit of aiming their cameras at traffic."
"So it seems. Still, I have a jewelry store owner who says he'll call back when he closes up for the night." Sloan checked his watch. It was six-thirty. "Which should have already happened."
"Maybe he'll call tomorrow." But she didn't sound any more convinced of that than Sloan was.
She stood, stretched and winced a little.
"You need your pain meds?" Sloan asked.
"No way. I plan to work late tonight going over Sarah's notes. Besides, my side's not really hurting. Just a twinge every now and then."
Because he wanted to look into her eyes to see if that was true, he stood, as well, and went to her desk. He leaned in, violating her personal space. She didn't exactly back away, but she did give him a be-careful stare.
Sloan smiled.
So did Carley.
But the jingling of the bell on the door wiped the smiles from both their faces.
Because it was past normal duty hours and because of the recent attempts to kill them, Sloan drew his weapon. He didn't put it away either when he heard the clicks of the person's footsteps.
Delicate steps.
Which meant their visitor was a woman. He aimed his gun anyway. After all, one of their main suspects was a woman.
However, this wasn't Donna Hendricks, but it was a woman he didn't want to have to face tonight.
His mother.
Stella stopped in the doorway of the interrogation room/temporary office. As always, she was dressed to perfection in a turquoise-colored dress and white heels. There wasn't a strand of dark hair out of place, and she wore only the lightest of makeup.
"We need to talk," Stella greeted, snaring Sloan's gaze. Her voice was feathery-soft. Like the woman herself. His mother definitely had a waiflike appearance.
Carley must have taken his mother's statement as her cue to leave because she started for the door. Stella blocked her exit. "Stay. You're part of this."
Carley nodded and returned to her seat. "What can I do for you, Mrs. McKinney?"
"You can listen." Stella remained in the doorway and she clutched her small white purse in front of her as if it were a shield. "Jim told me about Zane setting up the session with the psychiatrist. I'm going to speak frankly. Zane doesn't care about his father and he certainly doesn't have Jim's best interest at heart." She turned toward Sloan. "But I thought you would. I thought I could count on you to protect him."
"Are you saying it's not in Dad's best interest to attend that session?" Sloan asked.
"You know it's not."
Sloan was still straddling t
he fence on that one, but he had to concede, privately, that his mother might be right. "It was Dad's decision to do this."
"Hardly." His mother extracted a crisp white linen handkerchief from her purse and pressed it to her cheek. "Zane talked him into doing it. Jim would do anything to get back in Zane's good graces and he thinks this is the way to go about it. On the other hand, Zane would do anything to clear this case because every day that it goes unsolved is a black mark on his precious career."
"I don't know Zane's motives regarding his father," Carley spoke up. "But if your husband is innocent, what harm would it do for him to see the shrink?"
"What harm?" Stella pulled in a weak but ragged breath. "With the exception of Sloan, this entire town has wanted to see Jim behind bars. They don't even care if he's innocent. They just want someone, anyone, to pay for those murders so they'll feel safer at night."
"Mom, Zane and I are only after the truth," Sloan insisted.
"The three of you are lawmen above all else." Stella blotted harder with her handkerchief. "Your father is easily swayed, and I have no doubt that a psychiatrist could trick him into confessing."
Sloan shook his head. "That wouldn't happen."
"I don't believe you." She neatly placed her handkerchief back into her purse and then snapped it shut. "Your father has been through enough. I've been through enough. Judging from what everyone is saying, you have your suspects—Leland and Donna. That's all you need. And I'm begging you to leave your father alone."
Sloan wasn't immune to the thick tears that sprang to his mother's eyes, but he also knew that she was capable of using those tears to get what she wanted. "Shouldn't Dad have a say in this?"
"No."
That was it. One of Stella's decrees. She would have probably left then and there if Sloan hadn't stopped her. As unpleasant as this conversation was, he had to extend it a little longer.
God help him.
Stella likely wouldn't kill the messenger, but she wouldn't let him off scot-free either.
"Mom, I have two things I need to tell you. One, Carley is going to have to reinterview you about the night Lou Ann was killed."
Stella spared Carley a glance. "Call me. We'll set up a time." What his mother didn't do was ask why, after all these years, she would need to be questioned again. "You said there were two things," she prompted Sloan.
Yes, and while she'd taken the first one quite well, Sloan wasn't counting on the second going down that way. "You need to know that in a few days Cole will be coming to town."
Stella stared at him with accusing eyes. "I see."
"We need Cole on the case," Sloan explained. Though Sloan didn't clarify that, as a tracker, Cole would be going through the woods and looking for evidence. Best not to spread that news around.
Stella shook her head. "Bringing that man here wasn't a very bright idea." She didn't wait for him to answer. "You know what'll happen, don't you? If he's here, it'll be like rubbing your father's indiscretions in my face."
"I'm sorry you feel that way, but Cole is being brought in because he's very good at what he does."
Stella made a sharp sound to indicate she didn't believe that. "This tells me exactly how much regard you have for my feelings and for me. Obviously you have no regard at all. Well, two can play that game. If you want to see your father, then you'll do so only with his attorney present. The same goes for you, Carley. I won't let Jim be railroaded into anything, whether it's by the sheriff or his own sons. It ends here. It ends now."
His mother turned as if to leave, but then she stopped and looked at Sloan again. "If you love your father as much as you say you do, you'll stay away from him."
There was no melodrama in her tone. No hot emotion. Stella's order was glacier-cold. As was the parting glance she aimed at both of them.
"You think you can convince your father to do the session?" Carley asked. "Or is Stella's word gospel?"
"Gospel," Sloan assured her. He walked up the hall and locked the door, something he wished he'd done a lot sooner. He also turned off the front lights to deter any other visitors. "My father won't challenge her, trust me."
Carley stepped out into the hall and stared at him, apparently waiting for him to elaborate. He didn't. There was no sense telling her that his father was often spineless when it came to Stella.
"Jim lets her punish him because he feels he deserves it," Carley muttered.
And that was the truth. Well, in one way. "Guilty of the affairs, the cheating?"
"Yes. That's what I meant. I wasn't trying to pick a fight about your father's involvement or lack thereof with the murders." She glanced down at her notes. "Truth is, everything seems to be pointing to Donna."
He was relieved. And thankful that Carley hadn't pushed the other reason that his father might feel guilty. "Now if we could just find some solid evidence to tie her to these crimes. The D.A.'s going to need that if the grand jury decides there's enough to have Donna arrested."
Carley nodded. "So we keep digging through Lou Ann's notes and we have the Ranger continue to follow Donna."
In some ways that seemed futile, but it was the only course of action they had.
Sloan checked his watch. "It's late. How about we call it a night…after you read your letter, of course."
Carley blinked as if she'd forgotten all about it. Sloan seriously doubted that she had. That letter was too important to her future.
"I can step into the hall while you read it," he suggested. "If you want some privacy."
Her silence let him know she was considering it, but then she shook her head and extracted the letter from the desk drawer.
"Here goes nothing," Carley mumbled, tearing it open. She unfolded the single sheet of paper and silently began to read.
Sloan didn't realize he was holding his breath until he felt his lungs start to ache. He also hadn't realized just how much he had vested in this, emotionally. But he apparently had a lot. He suddenly wished that he hadn't pressed Carley to open the letter. Because if this was bad news, then delaying it might have been a good thing.
Or not.
Heck. He didn't know if it was good or bad. He just knew he didn't have a clue what to say if—
"I made the second round cut," she said. Carley blew out a long breath. "My application was sent to the final board. I should know something within the next two days."
Sloan couldn't help it. He whooped for joy, and it was loud. A lot louder than Carley's laugh. He hurried to her, ready to scoop her into his arms and give her a Texas-size bear hug, but then he thought of her injury. He settled for something much gentler.
He pulled her to him.
"Oh, no," Carley whispered. "Celebratory happiness mixed with lust. A dangerous combination." She backed away from him. "With all this energy, even a simple kiss could land us in bed."
The thought of it slid through him.
Sloan forced himself to remember why that wasn't a good idea. It took a while, long moments in which he weighed the consequences. And he was finally able to see the wisdom of keeping some distance between them. He was ready to confirm it verbally.
But the sound stopped him.
It stopped Carley, too.
Both turned in the direction of the sound, which was apparently coming from the back door. Sloan had remembered to lock it earlier, mainly because it wasn't an entrance that should be used this time of night.
Even though someone was now testing the doorknob.
"Do you think your mother came back?" Carley whispered.
"No." In fact, Sloan had another theory, one that had him drawing his gun. "When I turned off the front lights, someone may have thought we'd left."
"So this is a break-in," she muttered, taking out her gun, as well.
With his heart pounding, Sloan braced himself for whatever was about to happen. But he hadn't braced himself for the phone to ring.
The sound shot through the room.
Carley gasped, probably because of the unexpected
noise. They hadn't switched the phone to dispatch yet, even though it was well past normal duty hours.
But the caller perhaps wouldn't know that.
The person might be checking to see if Carley and he were still there.
Sloan waited for three rings, so that the intruder would think the call had been picked up by the dispatch service, and he lifted the phone from its cradle. He didn't say anything. He simply waited.
He didn't have to wait long.
"Someone shot at me," a man shouted from the other end of the line.
It took Sloan a moment to realize that the caller was none other than Leland Hendricks. Sloan didn't have to ask the man what was happening because Leland continued on his own.
"I'm on the ground in the parking lot at the back of the inn. I'm hiding behind Carley's car and I don't have my gun with me. I swear, someone took a shot at me!"
Hell. What else could possibly go wrong tonight?
The doorknob continued to rattle, and Sloan could hear someone trying almost desperately to pick the lock.
"Do your job," Leland yelled. "Come and find the bastard who tried to kill me."
"Call for the deputies," Sloan relayed to Carley. "Have them go to the back of the inn. Someone just tried to kill Leland."
Carley cursed, too, but she made the call. Sloan estimated that it would take five to ten minutes for the deputies to arrive. That should be plenty of time for this to come to a head. After all, the person who'd shot at Leland—if there was indeed a shot—was likely now trying to break in. Leland would probably be safe from another attack.
Leland's frantic shouts, however, said otherwise.
"The SOB's trying to kill me," Leland yelled. "Get out here now."
Sloan might have played that down a little if the break-in continued. But it didn't. Suddenly there were no more sounds coming from the back door. In fact, the only sounds were Leland's shouts for help.
"I have to go out there," Sloan said to Carley. "You stay put."
"Not on your life. You can't go out there without backup."
"This person is gunning for you," Sloan reminded her.
Trace Evidence in Tarrant... Page 12
