Colton Manhunt

by Jane Godman

  “Hannant lives in apartment eight.” He pointed along the corridor.

  “If he’s home, wouldn’t he have answered when you tried his apartment buzzer just now?” Katrina asked.

  “You’d think so. But there could be any number of reasons why not.” He approached the door cautiously, listening for any sounds inside. When he heard nothing, he raised his fist and rapped hard on the panels.

  “There’s a bell.” Katrina pointed out.

  “I want to shake him up.” As he spoke, the faintest sound from the other side of the door caught his attention. “Did you hear that?”

  She nodded. “It sounded like a groan.”

  “Aidan?” There was no mistaking the sound this time. Someone inside the apartment whimpered as if in pain. “It’s Sergeant Spencer Colton of the MVPD. Can you open the door?”

  There was a shuffling sound followed by a scrabbling. Gradually, the door began to open. When he could finally see the person on the other side, Spencer was shocked. Aidan Hannant was unrecognizable as the person he had seen only the day before. He clutched his ribs and doubled over, his face a mass of cuts and bruises.

  “Oh, my goodness! What happened to you?” Katrina started to move forward, but Spencer restrained her.

  Yes, Hannant was a mess and he needed help, but they didn’t know who, or what, they would find inside that apartment.

  “I’m going to call 911—”

  “No.” Hannant’s voice was muffled by his swollen lips, but the word came out with enough force to be understood. “No medics. No law enforcement.”

  “You don’t get a say in this, Aidan. I’m a police officer. If a crime has been committed, I have a duty to report it.”

  “Talk to you.” Hannant shuffled to one side, indicating that they should enter.

  “Wait here,” Spencer said to Katrina as he drew his weapon. “And you, too,” he added to Hannant. Although he seriously doubted the guy would be capable of moving without assistance.

  The apartment was small, and once he was inside, Spencer was able to quickly check out each of the rooms. There was no one there and nothing that caused him any concern. The only thing that appeared out of the ordinary was an overturned coffee table and a mug smashed on the floor, its contents splattered across the rug.

  Having satisfied himself that the place was safe, he holstered his gun and returned to where Katrina and Hannant were waiting.

  “Lean on me.” He placed a hand under the other man’s elbow.

  Katrina closed the door behind them and followed them into the sitting room. Spencer lowered Hannant onto the sofa and studied his face. “You need to get to a hospital.”

  Hannant shook his head, then moaned as if the movement caused him pain. “No.”

  “Do you have any painkillers?” Katrina asked.

  “Bathroom cabinet.”

  She left the room, returning a few minutes later with a bottle, a glass of water and a damp facecloth. Shaking out a couple of pills, she handed them to Hannant, then held the glass to his lips as he washed them down.

  “Hold this on your face.” She handed him the facecloth. “It may soothe some of the pain.”

  He did as she instructed, nodding gratefully.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to talk at Mustang Valley General?” Spencer asked.

  “Talk here,” Hannant said. “Then leave town.”

  Spencer didn’t like the sound of that plan, but he kept his thoughts to himself. He took a seat at the opposite end of the sofa to Hannant and Katrina moved to a chair.

  “Sorry.” Hannant spoke to Katrina. “The car and the warning. They paid me.”

  “Who paid you?” Spencer leaned forward, hoping for a name.

  “Don’t know.”

  “But you can describe them, right?”

  Hannant shook his head, then winced. “Email. Money problems. Once I agreed, instructions sent to pick up car. Other details followed.”

  “So you were told to threaten Katrina, then come to the station and confess?”

  “Yes. Make her look bad. Flaky.” Hannant sucked in a breath. “If I came across as a good guy, she would look like a liar when she accused me of threatening her.”

  “What?” Katrina sounded outraged. “Why would anyone want to make me look flaky?”

  Why indeed? Spencer remembered Micheline Anderson’s smooth smile and her persuasive words. Not all actors are on the stage. It was looking more and more like Micheline and other members of the AAG were trying to make Katrina look bad to stop her, and the police, from searching for Eliza. It came back to the old question. Why?

  He turned his attention back to Hannant. “How did you get paid?”

  “Cash.” After his burst of lucidity, Hannant appeared to be struggling to manage to speak clearly again. “Left on a bench in Mustang Park. Agreed time.”

  “If you did everything you were instructed to do, why were you beaten?”

  Hannant twisted the facecloth in his hands. “More money.”

  “You asked for more?” Spencer queried.

  Miserably, Hannant gave a single nod. “I emailed. Told them I’d go back to you and tell the truth.”

  Spencer sighed. “Bad guys don’t like to be blackmailed. Did you see who attacked you?”

  “No. Two men. Faces covered.” He hitched in a breath. “Told me to leave town tonight. Next time...won’t walk away.”

  Spencer glanced across at Katrina, who stared back at him with a mixture of anger and disbelief. Clearly, she was thinking the same as him. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to frighten her off. But who?

  He withdrew his cell from his pocket. “You won’t be leaving town tonight, Aidan. You need medical attention, but, more importantly, a crime has been committed and I’m placing you under arrest.”

  * * *

  Katrina made it back to the training center with minutes to spare before her next class started. Because Spencer needed to stay at Hannant’s apartment, he arranged for another officer to give her a ride. It added to her stress that she hadn’t been able to talk to him about what had happened. Losing herself in work was a bonus.

  “You look like a soda bottle that’s been shaken up and is about to pop its top,” Suzie told her cheerfully as they grabbed a bite of lunch.

  “And you say the nicest things.” Katrina pulled a face at her.

  “Rusty sent me a message. He said the intruder did a number on your place but they’re putting it right.”

  Once again, Katrina felt a pang of gratitude for the big-hearted store owner and his brothers.

  “That one’s a keeper,” she told Suzie.

  Her assistant flapped a hand. “I sure like to keep him on his toes.” She winked. “And his elbows.”

  “Oh, you are so naughty.”

  They were still laughing when the bell on the front door rang. After a moment or two, Laurence peeped into the room with an apologetic look. “Sergeant Colton is here.”

  “That guy can’t stay away.” Suzie gave Katrina a meaningful glance.

  “He’s trying to find Eliza.” She felt a blush steal into her cheeks.

  “He’s trying to find something, honey.” Suzie got to her feet. “I’ll leave you in peace.”

  As she went out, Spencer came in and Katrina bit back a smile at the knowing look Suzie gave her behind his back. Trust her friend to start matchmaking as soon as a handsome guy appeared on the horizon. If only life was that simple.

  “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

  She knew he was busy, yet when she looked into his eyes, she saw concern for her well-being and a smile that was both gentle and caring. In that instant, she knew everything she needed to about Spencer Colton. He was a man who lived according to his values. A strong, honest, genuine man, who put others first and fought for what was right. And he t
ook her breath away.

  “I...” Focus. How hard could it be to answer a simple question? “Have you eaten?” Very hard, apparently.

  “I’m headed back to the station for a meeting. I’ll grab a bite when I get there.” His smile widened. “Are you okay?”

  “I’ve been busy, so I haven’t had much time to process what Hannant told us.” She bought herself a little thinking time by finishing her soda and tossing the can into the trash. “I’m still struggling with what he said about the person who paid him wanting to make me look unreliable. I don’t understand why anyone would want to do that.”

  “I guess we’ll find out when we know who’s behind this.” It was a vaguely unsatisfactory answer, but Katrina couldn’t identify why she felt that way. “We’re checking Hannant’s emails to see if we can discover who made contact with him, but I don’t hold out much hope. If, using his or her usual laptop in their own home, a person opens their main email account and sends a message to you, our police technicians will be able to determine where it came from with minimal effort. If, on the other hand, they buy a cheap electronic tablet for cash, take it to a bar, log in to their guest Wi-Fi, create a new email account and send the message from that... Well, it’s almost impossible to trace.”

  “The person who first approached Hannant had to know he needed cash,” Katrina said. “And how did they know he wouldn’t go straight to the police? That took some confidence.”

  “You’re right. Possibly, Hannant has acted on the wrong side of the law on other occasions in exchange for cash. It’s worth checking out.” He glanced at his watch. “I have to go. What do you want to do about dinner?”

  She rolled her eyes. “This obsession with feeding me.”

  He laughed. “I make a mean Thai green curry.”

  “And with those words, you talked yourself into cooking tonight.”

  “I’ll see you at your place later.”

  As she watched him leave, Katrina reflected on how easy it would be to start relying on his presence. But that wasn’t her. She didn’t do dependence. And she wasn’t going to count on Spencer sticking around. By protecting her, he was doing his job. Once the person threatening her was caught, life would return to normal for both of them.

  On that gloomy note, she cleared away the remnants of her lunch and headed toward the office to grapple with her annoying accounts for another hour or two.

  Chapter 9

  “It’s good news that Harley Watts is prepared to talk at last,” Marlowe Colton said as she and Ainsley entered Spencer’s office later that day. “We might finally start getting somewhere.”

  Spencer shook his head. “I hate to disappoint you, but Harley has changed his mind. He no longer wants a deal in exchange for giving us the name of the person who paid him to send the Colton Oil email.”

  He indicated two chairs on the opposite side of the desk to his own seat and his guests sat down.

  “In that case, why are we here?” Ainsley asked. “I don’t mean to sound rude, but you’re busy and so are we.”

  “I wanted to give you an update on the sting operation we carried out at the hospital.”

  “I thought it was unsuccessful?” The half sisters exchanged a glance. “Is there anything more to be said?”

  “Not much.” Spencer shared their frustration, but he was determined to be honest about the investigation and not give them any false hope. “The slight figure who entered the floor where your father had been staying matched the one from the original video taken inside the Colton Oil building on the night of the shooting. He was caught on camera again, and I’ve watched it back a few times. He wore a hoodie with the hood up, sunglasses obscuring his face. He came close to the room—actually had his hand on the door handle—but then glanced around and seemed to get nervous. He ran off and leaped out of the second-floor window like an experienced free runner, landing on grass and bolting away.”

  “You’re saying he,” Ainsley said. “For all we know, the shooter was a woman. You just said the person in the original footage and at the hospital was slightly built.”

  “That’s true. And I’m certainly not ruling out the possibility that it could have been a woman,” Spencer confirmed.

  “It could have been Selina who shot Dad.” Ainsley’s attractive face was severe as she talked about Payne’s second ex-wife. “She’s been out to cause trouble since the email arrived.”

  “I wouldn’t put anything past Selina if she could gain from it,” Marlowe said. “But we all know she’s on the Colton Oil board because she has something hanging over Dad. Without him, she’s nothing. She’s not going to risk messing up her golden ticket.”

  “Man or woman, we lost him.” Spencer did his best to maintain a businesslike approach and not allow his annoyance to show. “Or her.”

  “Do you think he—or she—will be back?” Marlowe asked.

  “I know it. And he knows we’re after him or her. That means he’s worried.”

  There was a sense of defeat in the air as they ended the meeting. Although they knew that Harley Watts had sent the email to the Colton Oil board members, they didn’t know who had paid him to do it. They were no closer to finding the real Ace Colton and they didn’t know who had shot Payne.

  There had been a recent distraction when a man called Jace Smith tried to pass himself off as the real Ace Colton. Although the con was uncovered, the last thing the police or the family wanted was any similar attempts to gain from the Coltons’ misfortune.

  In addition to everything else, Spencer was also dealing with the additional mystery of Eliza Perry’s disappearance and the threats to Katrina.

  Once Ainsley and Marlowe had left, he called Kerry into his office. “I know you haven’t had much time, but have you gotten anywhere with your background checks on Micheline Anderson and Leigh Dennings?”

  “I don’t have anything of interest,” Kerry said. “So far, they are both model citizens with records of good deeds.”

  “Keep digging. If there’s anything there, I know you’ll find it.”

  When he was alone, Spencer leaned back in his chair and studied the fluorescent light fitting. His mind kept returning to the issue of how he had been manipulated into doubting Katrina. The first seed had been planted by Micheline Anderson with her not-all-actors-are-on-the-stage remark. Then Aidan Hannant had fueled his suspicions with his nice-guy act.

  And the mysterious Christie Foster? Where did she come into this? He made a note to ask Kerry to look into her as well. Was she genuinely scared and wanted to tell her story, or was she yet another attempt to make Katrina look like she couldn’t be trusted?

  There was no avoiding the truth. Spencer had been deliberately played. Guilt churned like acid in his gut and he needed to figure out why. So he’d fallen for a ploy to make Katrina look bad. He couldn’t have known what was going on. Even so, his conscience continued to haunt him. And the reason was staring him in the face.

  It was about Katrina. Right or wrong, she was not just another crime victim. In the brief time he had known her, she had come to mean so much more. He had let her down. The problem was that he had no idea how to explain to her how and why it had happened.

  How could he tell her he had suspected that she might be making these threats up to get attention? Even if he approached it logically and explained that, as a police officer, he needed to keep an open mind, she would be hurt. And hurting her felt like the worst thing he could possibly do.

  He shook his head, trying to restore some normality to his thoughts. Right now, he needed a little perspective before he called the hospital to see how Aidan Hannant was doing. He wasn’t proud of the way he had fallen into the trap set by Katrina’s enemies, but it was an issue he would come back to.

  * * *

  When Katrina arrived home, Spencer had used the spare keys she’d given him and was already there. The first thing she
noticed as she entered the house was the delicious aroma of fragrant spices. The second was how much work the Linehan brothers had already done on her living room. They had done a good job of matching the color she’d used on the walls and had covered up the spray paint. Her furniture had been cleaned and Suzie had told her that Rusty had taken some items away to be repaired. The place was almost back to normal.

  When she walked through to the kitchen, what caught her attention was the enticing rear view of muscular shoulders, a trim waist, long, strong thighs and a seriously touchable butt.

  Where did that thought come from? And where did my headache go?

  Spencer turned to look over his shoulder and the weariness and weirdness of the day drained away with his smile. “I took a chance that you’d like white wine. It’s in the refrigerator.”

  “I’d better go say hi to the dogs first.”

  “Yeah.” He pointed to the yard, where she could see Holly and Dobby racing around with Boris watching them like a kindly uncle. “I haven’t fed them yet, but I’ve topped up their water bowls and given them a few treats. I’ve also checked that all the windows and doors are locked, and that the dogs’ food hasn’t been tampered with.”

  “Even when this is all over, I may never let you leave.” Realizing what she’d said, she gave an embarrassed laugh. “I should, uh...” She pointed to the door. “I need to go see the pooches.”

  Spencer waved a hand as he turned back to his food preparation.

  As she stepped outside, Holly and Dobby hurtled across the grass toward her. Squatting, she petted the two squirming canines. Boris, who took a more dignified approach, sat next to her and she stroked his head before resting her cheek on his broad back.

  “I’m an idiot,” she murmured into his silken fur. “I think I just invited your master to move in permanently. And you know what the worst thing was? He didn’t even notice.”

  The big dog wagged his tail and, obviously feeling that something more was needed, gave a soft woof. Clearly feeling that this was some sort of signal, Holly and Dobby started dashing around in circles, then darting back to Boris as though inviting him to join in their game. The patient canine watched them like an indulgent nanny before charging after them. Laughing, Katrina watched their antics for a few minutes before returning to the kitchen.