“Maybe he’s just fixated on you.”
“That’s the thing. All of this has been way out of his normal behavior. You’ve seen his rap sheet. It’s all domestic disturbances and drunk and disorderly charges. If he doesn’t like someone, he punches them. It’s what he’s done to Shannon. How he solves every drunken fight in a bar when he feels invincible. He tried to run down Claire with his car. These are violent acts, meant to hurt someone. So, why go from that to vandalism?”
“I don’t know, man. Maybe taking you head-to-head was just too much for him.”
“Then why didn’t he drink himself brave and come after me?”
“Maybe he’s not as stupid as he acts.”
“I don’t fucking know what to think anymore. Everything I know about Dale says this is out of his normal behavior.”
“We’ll figure it out when he gets here, and we question him.”
“I mean it, Dylan, something isn’t right.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
* * *
CLAIRE HELD UP her hand for the hundredth time in the last hour to stare at the sparkling diamond ring.
“You’ll blind yourself and everyone else if you keep holding that up to the light like that,” Gayle teased.
She smiled and put her hand on the counter. Startled by the gasp behind her, she spun around and found Shannon standing in line behind Gayle’s customer on the other side of the glass display case.
“Shannon. I didn’t see you there. Are you okay?”
“That’s some engagement ring,” she said, gaze locked on the diamond solitaire.
“Owen asked me to marry him,” Claire said, trying to break the news gently. Shannon had never been able to hide her attraction to Owen. Claire didn’t want to rub it in her face by showing the true extent of her excitement.
“He really did it.”
“Yes, he did.” She couldn’t hide her smile. She and Owen would move in together like they planned and soon they’d get married and have a baby. This time, she’d live the dream, not wish for it anymore.
Shannon gathered herself with a shake of her head. She smiled brightly and gave Claire’s hand a pat. “Wow, that’s wonderful. And fast. I mean, you’ve only been seeing each other a couple of months.”
“When you know, you know,” Gayle said, giving Claire’s shoulder a squeeze. “You can see how much they love each other every time they’re together. It’s just there. I think it’s romantic that he didn’t wait, but asked you when the moment was right.”
“The whole thing surprised me after the morning we had with my ex showing up here.”
“Your ex wants you back?” Shannon asked.
“No. He wanted me to do him a favor. I made it clear he is my past and Owen is my future.”
“How did he take that? I mean, Dale never takes no for an answer. He thinks he owns me.”
“Mike didn’t have a choice. I’ve moved on. Like you’re doing,” Claire pointed out to help Shannon see that she had and could continue to stand firm against Dale.
“Yes, I want something better. Someone better.”
“Dale is determined to put himself in both our paths and ruin our plans, isn’t he?”
“Yes, he is. They’ll catch him though. He’s too stupid not to get caught for everything he’s done.”
“I hope it’s soon. Owen and I want to get married right away,” Claire said, letting some of her excitement show. Now that it was sinking in, she realized she didn’t want to wait to make all her dreams come true. She wanted Owen and the life they dreamed together. She wanted it now.
“Doesn’t it take a long time to plan a big, fancy wedding?”
“Owen and I don’t need anything fancy. I think he’d like to keep things simple. Family, close friends, maybe out at the ranch in the backyard. We’ve talked about redoing the garden. It would be beautiful under the big trees.”
“Yeah, he’d probably like that,” Shannon said, shifting from one foot to the other and back again, her voice unusually high.
“I’m sorry, Shannon, can I get you something?”
“Just a small coffee and one pumpkin cobbler. It looks really good.”
“How about some whip cream on that?”
“I’d love it. Thank you.”
The contrast in Shannon’s behavior always surprised Claire. One minute she was shy and reserved, sticking to Owen for support and protection, then she seemed shocked and despondent by the engagement news, only to put on her happy face and order coffee and cobbler.
Claire didn’t want to upset the fragile woman, so she put her order together and handed it to her. “On the house,” she said.
“Really? You’re so kind.”
Why did that sound mildly sarcastic? Well, what did Claire expect? Shannon had a crush on Owen. Claire had overlooked Shannon’s possessive behavior up to now. She’d do so again in hopes that Shannon realized Owen truly had picked her with no possibility of changing his mind. Not now. Not ever. He loved Claire and had proven that by asking her to marry him.
Shannon took her order and two steps to the door, but turned back before exiting the shop. “I’ll see you soon.”
A cold chill raced up Claire’s spine. She had the overwhelming desire to find Owen and tell him what happened. But what would she say? Shannon came in for coffee and cobbler, acted like her usual erratic self, and left with an ominous but innocuous statement.
“What do you know about her?” she asked Gayle.
“Not much. Shy. Quiet. Smart from what I remember. It surprised a lot of people when she hooked up with Dale. They seemed an odd pairing. Then, he adored her, and she him. The odd pairing seemed to work for them for a while, until it didn’t. Oh, they had their spats early on, but nothing like what it progressed to as the years went by.” Gayle’s gaze lost focus. “You know. I remember this one time she picked a fight with Dale in front of everyone at a summer festival. Boy, they got into it.”
“She picked the fight?”
“Yes. Why?”
“You’d think someone who knows how volatile Dale is would know better than to pick a fight with him.”
“Come to think of it, the madder he got, the more she pushed, but in a cunning, backhanded sort of way. I wasn’t the only one to notice.”
“Strange. And interesting. I’ll have to mention it to Owen and see what he thinks.”
“He’d know better than anyone about the cops showing up at fights. They’d have a report.”
“I’ll ask.”
She meant to, but the day wore on and the shop got busy. Owen had meetings all afternoon and wasn’t available for lunch. She missed him and couldn’t wait to go home with him and celebrate their engagement.
The phone rang around six o’clock. Claire pulled the last wrapped crystal vase from the box and set it on the table with the others. She grabbed her cell phone and smiled. “Hi, honey, I was waiting for your call.”
“Now, I like the sound of that,” Owen said, a distinct smile in his voice.
“What do you want to do for dinner tonight?”
“I don’t care about dinner, I just want dessert.”
The innuendo wasn’t lost on her. She’d spent the better part of the day thinking about him.
“Where are you? I’m craving something hot and spicy,” she teased, dropping her voice an octave.
“Ah, honey, I hate to disappoint you, but I’ve got to go down to the sheriff’s office.”
“Did Dylan find Dale?”
“Yes and no. The PI I hired tracked him down in New Mexico, where he’d been arrested. One of Dylan’s guys went to pick him up. Dylan just called, they’ll be at the office in about ten minutes. I want to be there when they bring him in and question him.”
“I’m coming, too.”
“I don’t want you there.”
“He came after me. I want to hear what he has to say.”
“I know you do, but you’re also the victim. Dylan and I both want to do this by the book.”
“Why do you get to be there and not me?”
“Because I’m your and Shannon’s attorney.”
“Oh, yeah, I forgot about that.”
“I much prefer you think of me as your husband.”
“Soon, you’ll be just that, won’t you?”
“Not soon enough for me. Go home. I’ll meet you there after the meeting, and I’ll tell you everything.”
“You promise?”
“Yes.”
“If you’re going to be a while, I’ll go to my place and work on packing up some of my stuff to move to your place.”
“I like the sound of that. I’ll be home as soon as I can. We’ve got a lot to celebrate. You’re going to be my wife, and Dale will remain behind bars for a long time to come.”
“I love you, Owen.”
“I love you too. It’s over, sweetheart.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
* * *
OWEN WALKED INTO the sheriff’s office and stopped, stunned to see Dale in handcuffs, standing beside an officer, looking gaunt and haggard. Owen expected cocky, and Dale delivered.
“I just asked to see my lawyer. Have you finally switched sides and come to my rescue?” Dale asked.
“After what you’ve done, not a chance,” Owen said, keeping his cool and assuming his lawyer nonchalance. He’d stick with the facts and make sure Dale paid.
Dylan stepped out of his office, looking mean.
“Mr. Monoghan, my deputy informed me you’d like a lawyer. I thought perhaps you could clear up a few matters, but if you’re not willing to talk to us without your attorney present, I’m happy to put you in a cell until he gets here.”
“You already know what happened when I went after him and his woman.” Dale cocked his head in Owen’s direction.
“Yeah, you tried to run her down with your car, even after she told you we didn’t know each other.”
“I didn’t mean to hit her. That was a total accident. I swear. You took the turnoff on the road and stopped at her place. How was I to know you lived further on up the road. I didn’t stick around, so you could catch me watching her place.”
“No, but you stuck around to slash her tires outside my office.”
Dale’s eyes went wide with surprise, but then he smiled. “Did she run into more trouble after I left?”
“You know she did. You punctured her tires, spray-painted her shop, tore up the side garden, and keyed my truck. You drove the horses out of my barn and nearly ran them to death, you son of a bitch.”
“Sounds like someone’s got it out for you. I can say it makes me happy to see you get yours for stealing my wife away from me, but”—Dale pressed his lips together and shook his head side to side—“I had nothing to do with any of that business and no one can say different.”
“I know you did it,” Owen snapped.
“You’ve got nothing on me,” Dale said, taking the seat in front of one of the deputy’s desks, leaning back, and propping his ankle on his knee, like he had not a care in the world.
Dylan smacked his hand down on Owen’s shoulder and turned him to face him. “I need to speak to you in private.”
“Dylan, he’s lying. He did it.”
“Let’s go into my office for a minute. He’s asked for his lawyer, so we can’t question him.”
“Don’t you worry, I’ll be waiting right here,” Dale said, leaning back with his fingers laced behind his head, elbows out, shackles jangling on his wrists. “Hey Sheriff, might I get a soda or something. It’s been a long drive. I’m parched,” he said, like some dainty lady out for tea.
“Get him a damn soda and keep an eye on him. He makes a move, you toss him in a cell,” Dylan ordered, walking away, leaving Owen to follow.
Dylan shut the door behind him and moved around his desk to take a seat.
“What the hell, Dylan? He’s guilty as hell.”
“Of getting the wrong house and hitting Claire that first night. Yes. I agree. He just admitted as much. But . . .”
“No but. That’s it. He did it. He’s terrorized Claire.”
“No, he hasn’t. Not according to the police report I received when Dale arrived. According to this”— Dylan tapped his finger to the open folder and papers on his desk—“Dale arrived at his cousin’s place two days after he attacked Claire. Three days later, he got cited for indecent exposure for pissing in an alley outside a bar. Drunk and stupid, the report says his cousin took him home after he slept it off in the drunk tank overnight. The day someone slashed Claire’s tires, Dale and his cousin, along with three other men, were on a weeklong hunting trip. The police down there confirmed his alibi with all parties.
“Dale was in jail for DUI and resisting arrest when someone vandalized Claire’s shop, keyed your car, and let the horses out of the barn. He didn’t do it.
“So, Owen, who else has motive to go after you and Claire? No matter how you look at it, Dale couldn’t have done these things, because he was too busy being stupid drunk.”
“It doesn’t make sense.”
“It does if you look at this from another angle. Who was there when Claire’s tires got slashed?”
“No one. We were at my office . . . Shit.”
“That’s right. Shannon came to your office that day,” Dylan pointed out.
“She was at my house the day the horses got out. Fuck me. Claire got hurt that day. Someone left a rake in the stall. She stepped on it and whacked herself in the head and cut her arm open. She said Shannon appeared out of nowhere.”
“Or so it seemed,” Dylan pointed out.
“She never came after me. She went after Claire to get her out of my life.”
“She keyed your truck and let out the horses.”
“She keyed the passenger door. The side Claire sits on. The horses I think were to try to instigate a fight between me and Claire. Everyone knows I’ve had those horses since I was a teen. If anything happened to them, I’d be upset. She thought I’d blame Claire, and we’d break up.”
“There’s something else I found interesting in the reports.”
“What?” Owen asked, despite the fact he didn’t really want to know.
“The night Shannon claims Dale snuck into her house, got in a fight with her, and slammed her head into the counter—”
“He was in fucking jail,” Owen finished for Dylan.
“Makes you wonder how many other times Dale swore he never touched her, and she had a bruise or worse when the cops showed up.”
“Do you really think that shy, quiet woman bashed her head that bad on purpose?”
“I went back and reread the domestic disturbance calls again. I see a clear pattern to most of them. They got into an argument, which in most cases both parties agreed she started. The argument escalated, and when it got physical, the cops arrived.”
“How many times did she call, or someone else?” Owen asked, thinking of everything in a whole new light.
“Most of the calls came in from her. Usually, when Dale got out of control and hit her too hard. The other times, when someone else called, her injuries were minor, or unremarkable. The officers I spoke to insinuated she relished the idea of getting Dale into trouble. They also intimated it might have been a sex game gone wrong.”
“What?”
“That was their impression from Dale’s remarks and her demeanor.”
“That is some fucked-up shit.”
“It happens. Some people have some messed-up proclivities. My officers brought him in, because she had marks on her and clearly looked to be innocent. Still, how many times did she drop the charges?”
“I thought she was the victim,” Owen said, trying to wrap his brain around this new information. “All this time, it was some sick and twisted game they played together.”
“Only one way to confirm it. Let’s go ask Dale. This time, let’s listen to what he has to say with this new scenario in mind and see what rings true.”
“You need to find Shan
non and bring her in,” Owen demanded.
“I will, but I thought maybe if we can confirm our suspicions you’d go out to her place and pay her a visit. See if you can’t get her talking.”
Owen understood. “You want me to lead her on, thinking I’ve had a change of heart, and see if she doesn’t incriminate herself.”
“A deputy and I will stick close to corroborate whatever she says to you.”
“I’m in, but I want to hear Dale’s side of all this first. I have a hard time believing she did all this because of some crush she’s got on me.”
“Not a crush, Owen. An obsession. If we don’t stop her, she may decide to remove Claire from your life permanently.”
“Don’t talk that way. I can’t imagine . . . I need to call Claire.”
“Let’s talk to Dale and confirm our suspicions. I’ll send someone out to your place to protect Claire while we bring in Shannon.”
“Claire’s at her place, packing things up to move to my place.”
“Okay, she’s got the alarm system you put in her place. We know she’s safe for now,” Dylan reassured him.
Dale hadn’t moved since they left him, except to down two cans of soda. His lawyer sat beside him, leaning in close and whispering.
“Mind if we speak to your client, counselor?” Dylan asked.
The lawyer glanced at Dale, who shrugged and gave a nod.
“Didn’t get a whole lot to eat in jail, did you, man?” Owen asked to break the ice, keeping his voice light and nonconfrontational.
“I sure as hell missed a home-cooked meal. I did. But then, I ain’t got no home to go to, thanks to you, asshole.”
“Come on, man, you know Shannon wanted you out of that house for all the times you beat her senseless.”
Dale laughed, and this time Owen didn’t think it was to show off. Dale genuinely thought that description of events was laughable.
Dale smiled and leaned forward in a conspiratorial way. He dropped his voice and said, “She may look sweet and innocent, but that girl is a wildcat. Now, she don’t want people knowing that about her. No way. She likes people to underestimate her, think she’s weak and meek as a mouse. I’ll tell you what, she hunted me down and wouldn’t back down after she saw me shove this pushy woman outside a bar. That girl, she likes it rough. Orders up what she wants—‘smack me hard on the ass’—like she’s ordering a burger and fries. Wrap your hand around her throat, squeeze, and give her a little shake, and she’s hot and wet and begging to be fucked hard. Now, most times I’m happy to oblige her demands, but sometimes she can be a mouthy bitch.
Falling for Owen Page 27
