by Angi Morgan
“So how long have you two been a couple?” Doris asked from her window seat.
“Us?” Brian shook his head and waved in Lindsey’s direction.
Leaning forward like he was, she couldn’t give him a stern look to stop evading conversation. If she was going to do all the talking, he could just live with her version of the story. “Brian followed me around like a puppy for months before he gathered the courage to ask me out.”
The cowboy almost spit out his latest bite of cookie. He stuttered over the word no for several seconds before giving up. Good. He could choke a little more.
“Yes, the poor thing is so shy,” Lindsey continued, gently patting him on the back. “You’ll have to forgive him. Even now, you can see he’s barely talking to you.”
The man finally turned his head, wrinkled the new scar on his forehead and growled a little at her. Doris didn’t catch it. The silver-haired matron seemed to be a little hard of hearing.
Doris put her cup on the rolling service tray. “That’s okay, dear, my third husband was just like that. I love the strong, silent type. At least for a while.”
Lindsey laughed along with her hostess. Brian choked a little more, quickly swallowing more of his tea.
“Now, you wanted to know about your distant cousin, which would have been my second husband, Joel. Quiet man and terribly boring. I was so surprised to hear about his sudden death. When was it? Almost twenty years ago?”
“Yes ma’am,” Brian answered, then shot Lindsey another look.
“Horrid little man, really. He didn’t leave me a thing in his will. Now, if you wanted to know about my side of the family, if they were related to me, they were wonderful people.”
“Can you tell me—us—why Jeremy was so interested in Joel’s will?” Lindsey asked.
“We only got into that a little. I had no idea your cousin had died, Lindsey. The emails and phone calls stopped and I thought he must have been one of those scammer people out fishing for information. That’s why I insisted on meeting you in person. You just can’t be too careful nowadays.”
“Right,” Lindsey agreed. “You never know if someone’s going to lead a serial killer to your door or not.”
On that-below-the-belt jab, Brian set his delicate teacup aside and stood. She knew he hadn’t meant to speed up the killer’s timetable. And she also knew that Brian was the reason she was alive. But she was a bit miffed at him and he deserved to feel a little uncomfortable.
“Do you need the facilities, dear?”
“No ma’am. I just...have a cramp.” He halfheartedly rubbed at his thigh. “So what did Jeremy ask about?”
“Joel sold his family home when we married and moved in here. The house wasn’t worth much, just an old building that the next owner was going to tear down. Thank goodness his mother wasn’t alive to see that happen. Anyway, your cousin Jeremy wanted to know if I might have a copy of the deed. He mentioned something about a trust that was looking for heirs. He was particularly interested in the mineral rights.”
Lindsey was ecstatic that she’d been right. So happy that she had a hard time concentrating on what Doris actually said next.
“I don’t think your cousin could obtain copies of the sales if they were available. It gets a little confusing.”
“That’s a shame. Sorry we bothered you,” Brian said quickly.
“Hold on, Mr. Sloane.” Doris motioned for Brian to sit back down, which he did. “That’s what started our conversations, but it’s not what really caught Jeremy’s interest.”
Lindsey sat forward, almost even with Brian. She wanted to jump up and down. Detective work was fun if you could forget about the murder portion. She wanted to hold Brian’s hand again. Good news or bad, it would be better with him along for the ride.
“You might have noticed all the cattle wandering around here when I am far—” she waved at all her frills in the room “—from being a rancher. I lease my land. Lots of people do.”
Lindsey was trying to be patient, but she didn’t want a lesson about ranching. Brian’s hand reached out to cover hers. Maybe she was showing a little more angst than she had thought. She laced her fingers through the strength he shared and stopped her toes from the rapid, nervous tap tap tap.
“I not only lease my grazing land, I lease my mineral rights. Did you know you can sell your mineral rights?”
Brian nodded yes but Lindsey was trying to string the information together. Joel. Property sales. Murders. Mineral rights. “This doesn’t make sense. Why would anyone want to kill Jeremy over his house?”
“Jeremy was killed? The internet said he drowned in Cozumel.”
“We should go.” Brian stood and drew her to her feet. His eyes told her not to say anything else. She pushed him to the side; he hit the tea cart, scooting it inches but rattling the china.
“Doris, why is it interesting? I don’t understand.”
“Remember I told you Joel sold his mother’s house? Well, there’s no record of the mineral rights being sold prior. So who owns them now?”
“Let me guess, the house is right in the middle of the Barnett Shale.”
“You’d be guessing correctly,” Doris confirmed.
“I don’t understand.”
“Natural gas that’s being extracted by fracking, dear.”
“There’s our motive,” Brian cursed.
Something significant had just been revealed, and Lindsey was still confused.
“Thanks for your time. It was nice meeting you.”
“You’ll need the address.” Doris handed him an envelope.
Brian ushered her outside and hustled her into the car.
“Why are we leaving? I had a ton of questions.”
“We don’t need to involve Doris. She’s been safe so far. She needs to stay that way.”
“Why wouldn’t she be? And where are we going?”
“We need some answers.”
“You’re confusing me, because I thought we were getting answers back there with Doris.”
“We need more information than Doris can provide.”
“So we should have let Mac search Jeremy’s computer to begin with.”
He slowed at a four-way stop and instead of moving forward, he draped his arm over the backseat and got two bottles of water from the cooler, handing one to her.
“We don’t need a hacker, at least not yet. Property owners are listed at the county tax office. We just need to fill out some forms. I went through that looking for the owner of Mrs. Cook’s property. That’s how I found the rest of your family.”
“Won’t the police arrest you if you show up at the county clerk’s office?”
“Maybe. That’s a risk I need to take. But just in case, I still have John’s military ID.” His smile was back.
Her confidence was returning by the minute. Brian would help her put an end to this madman’s killing spree. Maybe somewhere along the way she’d find the courage to tell him how much she appreciated him saving her life.
Chapter Twenty
“Is this still a risk you’re willing to take? Should we tell that to the judge?”
Lindsey laughed, smiled, seemed relieved and sort of drooped in her chair. She was handcuffed to the desk across the aisle from him and acting as if she was as carefree as a wild mustang. If Brian was jealous—there was no way he actually was—he might get the impression she was flirting with the officer assigned to wait with her.
It was almost an unnatural kind of fun drunk. Unnatural because he knew she hadn’t been drinking. Yet her flushed cheeks and behavior suggested that she had been.
They were waiting to see if his fingerprints were in the system as John or Brian Sloane. They didn’t believe he was John. They shouldn’t believe he was John, but he wished they had
.
Three hours had passed while they took their statements and waited for confirmation he wasn’t John. He’d been very stupid about taking her to the county clerk’s office, thinking no one would recognize him. The first person at the counter was very helpful and said she’d start looking for their request. Half an hour later he was under arrest.
What would happen to Lindsey when they put him in a cell? All he had was a working theory of why this serial killer wanted Lindsey dead. They had no hard proof. Who would believe them? Especially with Lindsey acting almost drunk.
“I can’t believe they’re arresting you for abducting me—a completely bogus charge,” she directed at the officer sitting next to her. “Don’t I have to press charges or something?”
She turned back to face him. He could tell her eyes were dilated and her speech was slurring a little. “I mean, I insisted on coming with you. And you weren’t obstructing justice or fleeing a crime scene. You were protecting me. So how can they, you know, claim that you had anything to do with that girl’s murder?”
Brian shot a stern look at Lindsey, attempting to communicate that she needed to be quiet. It didn’t work.
“I can promise you—” she switched her attention back to the officer, but dropped her head toward Brian “—he didn’t do it. He was with me the entire time. I mean, Brian was, ’cause that’s John over there that you’re trying to arrest.”
She giggled and grabbed the officer’s sleeve.
“Keep your hands to yourself, ma’am,” the officer stated and pried her fingers free, allowing her hand to drop to the top of his desk. “Did this man give you anything? Have you been drinking?”
“Me? Just tea. Awful tea. Who puts milk in tea?” She tipped a water bottle upside down. “Empty.”
Brian had heard that silly laughter before. When he’d gotten her half drunk before suturing her arm. He caught the officer’s eye. “I think she needs more water or maybe coffee.”
The officer shook his head, gave a disapproving look and walked into the hallway.
“What the hell happened?” he asked Lindsey, whose head was sort of wobbling. She stared, her eyelids looking heavy and staying closed longer with each blink. He kicked the desk with his boot, causing a loud noise and drawing the attention of the officers in the hallway. “Come on, man. Can’t you see something’s wrong with her? Somebody slipped her something.”
“Not here they didn’t. Now shut up,” the officer shouted as he left. “Your lawyer’s here to pick her up.”
Lindsey cradled her head in her arm, resting on the cop’s desk. “I’m okay, Brian—I mean, J-John. Jus’ really tire...”
“She’s out. And you’re headed to holding, Brian Sloane,” a different officer said as he came over and began unlocking his cuffs from the desk.”
“Seriously, man. There’s something wrong with her. She has a cut on her arm. I haven’t checked her today, but maybe she needs a doctor. Can you get her to a doctor?”
“There’s something wrong, all right. You. Maybe when she sobers up she’ll be pressing charges, too.”
“You’ve got to believe me that she hasn’t been drinking. There’s something wrong and she needs your help.” Brian got to his feet and had the overwhelming urge to use his elbow to knock the officer away from him. He’d been angry, but never over a woman.
“Nothing’s going to happen to her in the middle of the squad room. I guarantee that.”
Brian wanted to jerk away, wanted to run back to Lindsey. He watched her as far as he could strain his neck to see her. Once in the hall, he turned straight, catching the eye of a man who quickly looked down at his expensive shoes.
“You’ll get your turn in a minute, counselor,” the officer said as they passed him.
They rounded a corner. “Counselor?”
“Right. Your attorney saw the report that you’d been arrested and he’s been hanging around waiting his turn.”
It was on the tip of his tongue to state he hadn’t asked for an attorney, but there was something about the guy. He couldn’t remember ever seeing him before, but he’d helped a lot of people as a paramedic. Yeah, there was something about the way he’d avoided eye contact that set Brian’s teeth on edge.
Brian was led to another small room. No one-way mirrors. Just a camera in the corner near the ceiling. He tugged at the cuffs out of frustration. It wasn’t his first time in a police station. He’d fought hard to keep his job with as many times as he’d been hauled needlessly into jail.
There wasn’t a way to shrug this arrest off. He’d be booked for dang certain. If that guy was a real lawyer, he had to make the cops understand just how much Lindsey was in danger.
He rested his head in his chained hands. The sense of utter failure hadn’t hit him like this since the first time he’d been in jail for another crime he hadn’t committed.
They’d been so close to finding this bastard. Twelve years of wondering why Mrs. Cook had tried to put out the fire and died. Twelve years of being isolated, never allowing anyone close because he didn’t want to explain why his life was a mess. The first time he cared about a woman and he might lose her because of his stupid pride.
The door opened and the man from the hallway entered, carrying a briefcase that he set on the edge of the metal table. He took a step back into the corner. And if Brian hadn’t already seen the camera pointed directly toward him, he might not have noticed that the man kept the top of his head available for the recording and nothing else.
The man shoved his hands into his pockets instead of introducing himself. Odd, but each thing built on the next and that fuzzy memory gnawed at him. Something about his body language. The way he stood, ready to pounce. And his eyes had a gleam as if daring him to...
It’s the son of a bitch responsible for everything!
“Why are you here?” He knew he was right. Everything about the man told him he was.
The stranger’s brows raised, inventorying Brian’s position like a hunter ready to raise his bow. “So you’ve connected the dots. You are my most worthy opponent. I say that in all honesty.”
“You don’t have the right to say the word honest. You’re a serial killer. A butcher. You slaughtered that woman for no other reason than she looked like Lindsey.”
“You’re slightly wrong there. I might have selected her because of your girlfriend, but I had such delightful fun. So there was definitely more than one reason.”
Brian swallowed the rage building in him. Nothing good would come of him losing his ability to think. This murderer was baiting him. That was all. He had to see this through, get the man to reveal himself to the police.
“Guard?” Brian looked at the camera. Was anyone watching? Did anyone realize a serial killer was here impersonating a lawyer?
“Ah, yes. I realize you want me gone. I soon will be, I’m afraid. But not as soon as you’d hope. This isn’t recorded.” He pointed to the camera. “Privileged information and all that.”
“What do you want?” he asked between gritted teeth. The muscles were tensing in his arms. He wanted his hands around this man’s neck. It was the first time in his life he had considered seriously harming another human being.
“Why, Brian, I’m here to drop my gauntlet for a private battle.”
“If I agreed, you’d have me at a disadvantage.” Brian shook the metal, letting it make noise against the table. “Why the hell would I battle you anyway? You ran from our last fight.”
“You did take me by surprise at Jeremy’s. That won’t happen again.”
“Quit talking riddles and just say what you came to say.” Brian laced his fingers. The small room was much hotter than where he’d left Lindsey. His skin seemed almost sunburned, a red haze almost. He was hot and mad at himself.
“I can see the wheels turning in your head, Brian Sloane
. Don’t be stupid. You can’t cry out. No one will believe you anyway. I’m a respected lawyer who felt sorry for the way you’ve been treated throughout this terrible ordeal.”
“It may take time, but the police can discover the truth. I know about your mineral rights trust.”
He finally pulled a hand from his pocket, swiping at the corner of his eye as if he was laughing so hard he cried. “Oh, Brian. That’s so funny. You’ve been accused of murder. Your DNA is at the scene and will match their samples. And of course, they’ll find the knife you used on the prostitute in your barn.”
Brian’s hands were fisted; the metal rings pinched and scratched his wrists as he tugged and then tugged again. He knew he couldn’t break them, but the gesture kept him from losing it completely.
“Not to mention the testimony of your lawyer when I attempted to get you to surrender after being interrupted at your prisoner’s home.” He laughed in a tenor old lady voice. “You’re making this too easy. I thought you seemed the sort to fight. Are you, Brian? Are you willing to fight me and save the damsel in distress?”
Brian swallowed hard, keeping it together because of Lindsey. Wanting to tear this guy apart with every word from his mouth. “You know an awful lot about me. Aren’t you going to introduce yourself?”
“In due time.” He slipped his thumbnail in the small space between his two front teeth. “In due time.”
“What’s your definition of battle?” You raving lunatic! “And if you want to fight me again, you’re going to have to get these charges dropped. Hey, you could do that, couldn’t you? Confess to the murders and they’ll let me go.”
He nodded. “Right. And on a more realistic note, you know that the only leverage I have over your behavior is Lindsey? She’s resting, by the way. I slipped a little mickey into her soda. So easy, no challenge at all. But you’d already guessed that, hadn’t you?”
“Why are you telling me all this?” Brian could feel his chest rising and falling rapidly. His hands shook from the adrenaline. His eyes were slits because of the anger. He deliberately took a deep breath, trying to calm down. It wasn’t working.
