by Cameron Dane
sound of Cade's voice and rushed to his side, barking a hello as Ren got up from his seat. Cade petted Crash and scratched his fingers through rust-colored fur, but his attention stayed fully on the man approaching him, and even Jasper could see love smiling in his eyes, even if his mouth didn't turn up at the edges.
“Hey, honey.” Cade curled his hand around Ren's nape and kissed his mouth, cheek, and hairline. “Sorry I missed dinner.”
Ren pecked a kiss to Cade's scarred cheek, took his utility belt off for him, and put it in the top drawer of a narrow table by the door. “I saved you a couple of burgers and some barbecue chips.”
“My favorite.”
They're like a nice little family. Longing for a small house in town with a man and woman already in it tugged hard at Jasper's heart. I want what Ren and Cade have.
Jasper spotted his hat hanging on a metal hook by the door and got up to get it. He smiled at Cade and offered his hand. “Good to see you.” Cade engulfed his hand in a strong shake. “I'll leave you to your burgers.” Jasper shifted to Ren and shook his hand too. “Thanks for the food and the talk.”
Ren nodded. “Anytime.”
Jasper stepped outside and walked to his truck, and Ren and Cade waited on their small porch while he climbed inside and started the engine. As he pulled down the mountain path, through his rearview mirror he saw them wave one more time and then go inside; the door shut behind them.
He could drive to town. He could get to the base of the mountain and head for town instead of the ranch. He could get Sarah back and maybe even explore this attraction and interest he felt for Jace too.
Excitement hummed in Jasper just thinking about it. Then his cell phone rang, and his brother's name lit up the LCD screen.
Son of a bitch.
Swearing some more, Jasper grabbed the phone off the dash, pressed the green button, and whispered furiously, “Stop callin' me. Stay out of my life.” He hung up before Samuel could say a word and threw the phone on the floor of the truck. Just seeing Samuel's name made his stomach clench with sick.
The phone rang again. This time Jasper ignored it.
When he got to the base of the mountain, he headed back to the ranch.
Chapter Eighteen
“And you didn't see anything out of the ordinary late Friday evening, say, between ten thirty and ten forty-five?” Jace spoke to one of the homeowners on Ginger's block. Cade was across the street, and between the two of them, they had canvassed the entire street. “Even just a vehicle that didn't look familiar to you?”
“No, I'm sorry. I didn't,” the woman, in her fifties Jace would guess, answered. “We're usually in bed watching the early news by ten.” She tsk-tsked and shook her head. “We're so sorry something so awful happened to one of our neighbors. You make sure to tell her family that, will you?”
“I will. Thank you, ma'am.” Jace handed her a contact card. “If anything comes to you, or if your husband had to get up for some reason and remembers seeing anything that caught his attention, please call me.”
Slipping the card in her apron pocket, she said, “Sure. I'll tell him. You have a good day.” “You too, ma'am.” Stepping back to the walkway, Jace flipped his notepad closed and slipped it into his pocket. “Bye.”
As Jace reached the sidewalk, Cade jogged to him from across the street.
Ginger lived at the far end of this block, and Cade and Jace had started their second round of questioning there, working their way farther and farther down the street from her actual home. With the woman Jace had just spoken to, he had reached the end of Ginger's street. The first time they questioned the neighbors they hadn't had a clear timeline for when or where Ginger met her eventual murderer. Now, with Beth's cell message, they believed they did.
“Anything?” Cade asked.
“Not a damn thing,” Jace answered, shaking his head. “Nobody saw anything that caught their eye, nobody's dog barked more than usual, nobody saw a car, truck, or person that looked out of place. Man, I just wish one person had video security.” As a pair, the men turned and started walking back in the direction of Ginger's home, where they had parked the SUV. “How about you?”
“Lady here at the end of the block thinks she remembers a blue truck turning onto the street around ten thirty or so. Nobody on the street has a blue truck that she's aware of, so she remembers wondering for a second if somebody had made a trade-in that day. She doesn't remember seeing it since. She thinks it was a Silverado.” Cade closed his notepad and put it in his pocket. “Other than that, pretty much the same as you, except the family right across from Ginger's place went out of town yesterday. According to a neighbor, mother of the husband died. They should be back in a few days. I made a note to check ag—Hey!” All of a sudden, Cade started running. “There's another car parked at Ginger's house.”
Jace dogged right on Cade's tail, drawing his weapon as they came upon a silver Camry and the front door of Ginger's home open. Before Cade or Jace could shout their presence, Ginger's father emerged from the home, his face understandably that of a devastated man. Ginger's mother followed, her head down, and Peter Robbins had his arm around her shoulder.
Holstering their weapons, Jace and Cade approached. Ginger's mother saw them, whispered, “Not right now. I can't,” and climbed into the backseat of the car. Peter nodded, rubbing her shoulder for a moment. Without a word spoken, Ginger's father climbed in next to her. His wife fell into his arms, her shoulders heaving.
Peter lifted his hand, motioning to the sidewalk a few feet away. Jace and Cade followed. Peter crossed his arms against his chest and took another look back at the couple in the car. He stared at them for a long moment in silence, then brought his attention back to Jace and Cade. “Cilla and Howard would rather I not tell you the powerful vision I just saw while in Ginger's home, but when I contacted them originally, I told them I never hold anything back from law enforcement investigating the crime, and I cannot do it for them either.” He leveled an even stare on Jace. “If Ginger's murder doesn't get solved, I don't get to write a book, and like your sheriff so astutely pointed out, that hurts my ability to earn a living.”
Jace gritted his teeth. “Quit selling yourself as some kind of reluctant superhero and spit it out, Robbins.”
Defensiveness burned in Peter's eyes. Jace guessed he was probably used to being mocked or ignored, but less accustomed to the local authorities so openly challenging the mercenary side of his profession.
“Fine, I will,” Peter said. He looked back toward the house, staring while he spoke. “I saw and felt Ginger with a woman while in her home. Powerful. Very raw, very sexual, full of emotion. The strength in the images and feelings consuming that house tells me Ginger was a lesbian and had a powerful connection to this one female. And I keep seeing white, like I did the night of her murder, which as I said before, is usually an indication for blonde hair to me.” Finally turning back, Peter furrowed his brow and pursed his lips. “I'm trying to leave myself open, even with all this interference around me, but I can't hear a name yet. I rarely see a complete face or body. I know the woman and her connection to Ginger is real, though.”
Oh fuck. “And you told this to her parents?” Jace asked. No wonder they were so upset. Beth had said Ginger feared her parents' reaction to her love for another woman. “Goddamn it, man, don't you have any discretion?”
Shoving his hands into his pockets, Peter leaned forward and pushed his shoulders back, expanding his chest. “Look,” he whispered furiously, “I wish it hadn't happened that way, but when I feel something so powerfully, when I get a gut piece of information about a victim, it just comes out of me. I say it, and I write it down too. That way, I can go back and look afterward, when the draining effect has passed, and I can put scenes side by side and see if anything fits to create a scenario for murder. That's how I work. I can't control it just because I have family members of the deceased with me. Cilla and Howard agreed to be a part of my process when I contacted them. I can't censor what
they might end up hearing.”
Son-of-a-bitch, cold-blooded, money-hungry bottom-feeder.
Cade put a hand on Jace's forearm. “Did you see anything else, since last speaking with the sheriff?” he asked.
Peter nodded. “I continue to see masculine shapes all around Ginger; bodies I felt certain were men, with very strong responses to them, yet the connection to the female is so overwhelming, it confuses me and makes me wonder if this woman is masculine in nature, and that I'm separating the two when I shouldn't.” With a shrug, he looked back to the house one more time, lingering. “I don't know yet. I'm usually starting to crystallize pictures of the victim by this point, getting a better sense of his or her life, but in this case, I feel murkier, less sure how to depict what I'm seeing and feeling.” Peter suddenly veered his attention to the couple huddled in the car and held there with intensity. “Listen, I have to get back to Cilla and Howard. This information about Ginger has them reeling. I need to be with them right now.”
Cade replied, “Please relay to the Carltons that Sheriff Boone will be out to visit with them soon.”
“I will,” Peter answered as he walked to the car. “And please tell the sheriff I will check in with him in the next few days.”
“I'll tell him that,” Cade said.
“Thank you.” Peter climbed in behind the wheel, backed out of the drive, and drove away.
Once the car turned left at the end of the street, Cade asked, “What do you think?”
Jace felt like he had to brush his teeth to get the dirty taste out of his mouth. “He certainly manages to ingratiate himself into the family quickly enough; that's for sure.”
Cade crossed his arms and leaned his shoulder against the back of the SUV, his eyes on the now-empty stretch of road. “He appears to have personal information and insight into a child they just lost. If they believe him—and it seems they do—then it's a link to their daughter, a way to hold on to her for a little bit longer. It makes sense. I remember working a case back in Texas where the family hired a psychic, and their reaction to her was similar.”
“I just wish Ginger's parents hadn't discovered her sexuality in such a shocking way. When I think about how Beth tried to protect her secret, it pisses me off that it was all for nothing. The longing and sadness in Ginger's voice during that phone message so clearly showed how torn she was about her feelings for Beth.” This case got under Jace's skin more and more with every new detail he learned about the victim. “I know we wouldn't have been able to do it, but it would have been nice to help Beth be successful in protecting Ginger's secrets.”
“But it's like you told Beth yourself: our first and only job is to figure out who killed Ginger. We owe that to the victim more than anything else. If we had any lingering doubts about Beth's claims of being Ginger's lover, though”—Cade arched a brow as he made his way to the driver's-side door—“Peter's little insight backs it up.”
“Yeah. And we know the sense of masculinity doesn't have anything to do with a butch woman either.” Jace walked backward and jerked his thumb at the house. “Let me check this door and make sure they locked it. You know”—he turned the handle, wasn't able to open it, and jogged back to the SUV—“I remember talking to the cowboys Ginger dated and wondering about all those amicable breakups. When I listened to that message on Beth's cell phone, it made total sense to me. Of course she didn't make a scene. It was no big deal to move on to the next one, because she didn't love any of them. She wanted Beth.”
Cade nodded. “I'll run a search on a blue Silverado for local sales and rentals, but I don't hold much hope that it'll turn up anyone interesting. Our better hope is that the boss will have some luck with one of Ginger's johns.” The sheriff had decided he would handle the interviews with the three men Beth had been able to recall, and do it away from the station. The men all had families, and in order to cushion the blow to the spouses and children, he was willing to be discreet. “If not, unless Robyn can give us a new lead with forensic evidence, I'm not sure where we're supposed to look next.”
“There's still the motel tapes Carson is working his way through,” Jace offered. “We can have him keep his eyes open for a blue Silverado too, in addition to Ginger herself. More important to me right now, we need to get back to the station and speak to the boss about Peter's process”—he threw his fingers up in air quotes—“so that he can go ahead and tell the Carltons about their daughter's life of prostitution. I'd rather they hear that from the sheriff than some shocking revelation from a psychic when he suddenly has another untimely vision about what all those masculine images mean.”
“Agreed.” Cade opened his door. “Let's go.”
Jace climbed in the passenger side of the marked vehicle, and Cade drove them back to the station.
* * * *
A shadow loomed across Jasper's booth table, and his appetite for the fast-food chicken sandwich on his tray died before he took the first bite.
“Hey there, little brother.” Samuel slid into the booth and offered a smile full of tricks and lies. “How's it hanging tonight?”
“I didn't invite you to sit down with me,” Jasper hissed under his breath. He didn't know any of the people in the chicken joint personally, but his skin crawled just thinking someone might recognize him and think he willingly associated with his brother. “Get out of here.”
“Relax, Jassy.” Samuel used a nickname Jasper hadn't heard spoken since he was ten years old. “You're strung up so tight, you're likely to bust a cord and put someone's eye out. Aren't you getting your fill of that sweet lady of yours? I got a good look at her when that cunt-lovin' bitch dragged my ass into the station for questioning. Your Sarah isn't the sexiest filly in this town, but she's pretty enough to take notice of her.”
Jasper surged halfway over the table and grabbed his brother's shirt near the throat. “Don't you ever talk about my woman again, you hear me?” He pulled Samuel up from the seat and snarled right in his face. “I will put you in the ground for it, kin or not.”
Samuel ripped his shirt out of Jasper's hold and shoved him back to his side of the booth. “Then get your goddamn pig friends down at that station to leave me the fuck alone,” he ordered, pointing his finger. “I didn't kill that girl they found in the tree or the one they found in the ditch neither.” Samuel's beady eyes disappeared to almost nothing, and his thin lips twisted in a sneer. “If you're trying to get me out of town by throwing me at the cops, Jassy, it ain't gonna work. All it's gonna do is piss me off.”
“I didn't have nothin'—anything—to do with whoever talked to you at the station. Them guys know your record and how far it goes back, and when a girl turns up hurt or worse, and you turn up in town, I guess you gotta expect they're gonna be lookin' at you.”
“I never did anything any girl didn't want.” Samuel leaned back in the booth and stretched his arms across the back, looking easy as he pleased, like his shit didn't stink to high heaven. “Begged for, even.”
“Yeah, right.” Disgust that he had any blood ties to this asshole choked a sick knot in Jasper's throat. Just sitting with him these few minutes felt like some of the ugly clinging to Samuel crawled across the table and latched onto Jasper. He grabbed his hat and stood. “I'm leavin'.”
Samuel whipped his hand out and wrapped it around Jasper's wrist. “Not so fast.” He yanked Jasper down in the booth right next to him and slid his arm around his shoulders. “You got it all wrong about me, little brother. I never hurt anyone. I got myself a way with women, but maybe if you help me get a job, I'll be too busy to talk to yours.” Samuel pressed the weight of his arm on Jasper, pulling him closer. “You might go a long way to helping yourself and your little girlfriend by putting in a word for me with Caleb Hawkins.”
Jasper reared, but his brother's hold on him didn't let him move more than a few inches. “Are you threatenin' to hurt Sarah if I don't help you get a job at the ranch?”
“I don't make threats.” Samuel shook his head and back
ed off. “You didn't take that the way I intended.”
His head reeling—God, it doesn't matter how far away I stay from her—Jasper pushed out of the booth. “I think I heard you just right.”
“Don't go twisting what I said and try turning it into something with the local law, or you'll regret it.”
Jasper curled his fist on the table and lowered himself to eye level with Samuel once again. “The only thing I regret is that we share the same blood.” He looked his brother in the eyes and didn't blink. “This time, I'm warnin' you. Leave me and mine alone. That includes my friends and my work. Don't come near us again.”
With that, Jasper strode out of the fast-food joint, fumbling with his keys for a moment before climbing into his truck. Feeling a little light-headed, as if he might hyperventilate, Jasper put a death grip on his steering wheel and stared through the windshield at his brother still inside the restaurant. When his nerves settled, and his blood stopped pumping so furiously, Jasper gunned the engine and drove away.
* * * *
He knocked on the door and waited with his hands twisted at his front. Nerves, excitement, joy, and arousal all played ping-pong in his stomach and chest, fighting for dominance. God, I can't wait to see her again. The door swung open, and there his Sarah stood, so pretty and inviting in tiny cutoff shorts and a little pink T-shirt emblazoned with the youth center logo.
Oh fuck, she's not wearing a bra. I can see her nipples.
Sarah pushed her hair behind her ear and then reached out and touched his face. “Jasper?” Her fingers fluttered into his hair, and the caress nearly undid him. “Are you back?”
“Yeah.” Jasper rasped out the word. His dick, already half-hard, shot to full attention. He could see Jace leaning against the kitchen archway in the background, his work shirt open, revealing a long line of hard, tan torso, and that didn't help the rigid state of Jasper's cock either.
Looking back to Sarah, Jasper groaned with pent-up need. Fear for her safety still raged through him, but he scooped her up with an arm around her waist anyway and held her to his chest. He looked into her kind, loving eyes and succumbed all over again. “If you take me back”—he stepped over the threshold and kicked the door closed—“I'm gonna live practically on top of you, unless we're at work, till I know you're safe.” He knew how much it grated on her nerves when Jace behaved in an overbearing manner, but in this, Jasper could not relent. “Can you live with that?”
