by Addison Fox
“I think I need to get me some of these,” Belle said in an exaggerated whisper to Arden as she pointed toward the fast-moving Reynolds men. “How did you get them to fall into line?”
“I simply employed a few tactics that my mother taught me.”
“What are those?” Belle already imagined how she might get some of the men at work to clean up the break room and put their coffee mugs in the dishwasher.
“A well-fed man is far easier to manipulate than one with an empty stomach.”
“Manipulation?”
“You bet.” An unholy light lit Arden’s eyes. “I’m a woman with a plan and I’m going to do what I need to in order to see it through.”
“A plan for what?”
“A rather elaborate plan to get my brother’s head out of his ass.”
“Can you be more specific? You do have three of them.”
Arden reached over and Belle felt the woman’s fingers close tight over hers. Arden lowered her voice so she wasn’t heard in the midst of the clanking plates and slamming cabinet doors behind them. “I think you know which brother I mean.”
“Arden, come on, that’s not why I’m here.”
“I know that’s not why you’re here. Nor is it the only reason I invited you.”
“Then why bring it up?”
“Because I’m a woman on a mission and I refuse to lose. You and my brother belong together.”
“That ship sailed a long time ago.”
“I don’t see a shoreline anywhere around here.” Arden’s grip tightened slightly. “I don’t see why you keep running.”
“I’m not running anywhere. I just know what’s not right for me. What hasn’t been right for me for a long time.”
“You don’t think everything happens for a reason?”
“Some things do.” And she did believe that. She’d lived long enough and had experienced enough to understand that sometimes things did happen for a reason. She’d also lived long enough to know that sometimes they didn’t.
Tate’s father’s bad business choices. Her own mother’s inability to really show love and affection. Even the random murder that had happened on Reynolds property. Not everything had a reason.
Sometimes it just sucked.
Chapter 11
A warm, soggy rain coated the air with thick humidity as Belle trudged into the precinct the following Wednesday. She felt wet to the bone and that, along with a layer of perspiration, had her feeling like a cat in a bathtub.
Irritated and more than ready to escape.
There was no question about it. Spring had fully sprung in southwest Texas.
“Don’t you look pretty as a picture.”
Belle wasn’t sure if their head dispatcher was trying to be funny, or if he meant it, so she went with her first instinct. “Aren’t you a funny guy, Willie?”
“Hey.” Willie’s hands went up in a don’t shoot gesture. “I was just trying to be nice.”
“As I look like a drowned rat, you can keep your platitudes to yourself.”
Willie let out a low whistle. “Wow, someone’s having a bad day.”
She wanted to be mad. Knew she was probably entitled to be. But being mad at the clueless Willie would take far too much time and effort and she wasn’t willing to give him either.
A lead had come in overnight. Someone who had come forward anonymously, claiming they knew a few of Jesse Abrogato’s contacts and a possible place near the border that he used as a drop point. Not quite a snitch and not really a hard clue either. She’d still grasped at it like a drowning person gasped for air. Only to realize by midday that she had nothing to show for it except for a bunch of sweaty work digging and clawing at some mud in a ravine down near the border, just outside of Midnight Pass.
Two weeks. It had been over two weeks since Abrogato’s body was found on Tate’s land and they were no closer to finding a killer.
“Belle?” The chief poked his head out of his office the moment she came near his door. “You have a second?”
“Of course.” She brushed her hair and hoped that it wasn’t quite as wild looking as she imagined. “Be right there.”
She dropped a few things off at her desk and shrugged out of her coat, curious why Chief Corden had flagged her so quickly. Although he was always willing to take downtime with his team—his approach was more hands on than desk jockey—he rarely summoned anyone into his office, acting as if he’d been waiting for them.
“What can I do for you, Chief?”
Chief Corden gestured toward his door. “Would you mind closing that first?”
“Of course.” Belle did as he asked, growing even more curious at what might be going on.
“I’d like to talk you about the current case, Belle.”
“Anything, sir. What can I tell you?”
“How did this morning’s lead pan out?”
She avoided the grimace that threatened, as well as the sense of failure that the time she’d spent chasing the lead was unproductive, and focused on the facts. “Unfortunately, sir, it didn’t pan out at all.”
“Do you think it was bad information?”
“At this point I’m not sure. The lead seemed solid. Although—” she broke off, hesitating for a moment. “Although at this point I must be honest and say I’ve hit the stage where it feels as if I’m grasping at straws.”
“It happens.”
“It’s not how I like to manage a case. When you start grasping, it feels like you run too much risk of potentially accusing the wrong person. But no one, least of all me, can seem to get a bead on this. Leads feel half-baked and no matter how hard we look for clues, no one can find a pattern.”
“The fact you acknowledge that can’t be taught at the academy. Don’t lose that spirit or that vigilance, Granger.”
“Thank you, Chief.”
The news she and Corden had shared the week before—that they were potentially dealing with a serial killer—hadn’t been far from her thoughts. She tried to keep an open mind, but if they were dealing with one, this entire situation had an added dimension layered on top of it that was nearly impossible to fully imagine.
Murder was never simple, but this had a complexity that she struggled to process. Something this cold and calculated was on a level the Midnight Pass Police Department had never experienced before. Of course she knew serial killers existed—she’d studied them in the course of her career and had often read up on them in her free time—but to actually be faced with one?
It just wasn’t anything she’d ever expected would cross her path.
Like the rest of the department, she’d chafed when the Feds had first arrived in town. The underlying insinuation, whether true or not, was that Midnight Pass couldn’t police its own and that the drug trade had flourished too far and too fast to keep under control.
Now, she’d never been more grateful they were here.
“What does Agent Ross think about it?”
“He’s asked for reinforcements but has so far been unsuccessful.”
“You can’t be serious?”
The chief shrugged, but the motion was anything but casual. Something strong and steady burned in his gray gaze. “I wish I was making it up. Ross is pretty pissed about it and I can’t say I blame him. He was sent down here to manage the drug trade and suddenly finds himself in the middle of an investigation over a serial killer. Now his home office won’t even give him and his small staff a hand. They were underwater to begin with.”
“And his bosses really don’t see this as a crime?”
“I wouldn’t go quite that far. But they certainly don’t see it with the degree of urgency one would hope. Killing drug dealers is still a crime, but their chosen profession does color their deaths.”
Belle did her best to digest the chief’s words, but on
a level she couldn’t quite define, she struggled with what they truly meant. Regardless of what behavior had put someone in the crosshairs of the killer, the fact remained there were now three people that had been murdered. How could a group of qualified individuals who’d studied and who understood the workings of the minds of serial killers not feel compelled to take action?
For all her defense of the criminal justice system, it was moments like these where Belle had to admit that Tate and his ready cynicism had a point. When he managed to get his jabs in, he often pointed out that the police rarely did as little good as people thought they did. She’d argued the point over and over, that justice didn’t work that way, but she’d known that he wasn’t completely wrong. Yes, there were plenty of good men and women who worked for the greater good. A tremendous number, actually.
But there were also a few who didn’t.
People who were either too lazy, too inept or too self-involved to make a difference. Or even worse than that, people who’d somehow convinced themselves that a badge and a weapon made them invincible.
She’d never had time for that morally superior attitude and when given a chance to set an example for incoming recruits or help in their training and development, she’d immediately squelch even the slightest whiff of that.
Being a cop was a responsibility. It was a responsibility to others and it was a responsibility to herself. Even more though, it was a responsibility to the public. She took that seriously, and she expected others to do the same.
“While we’re not trying to hide anything, we do need to continue to keep the serial nature of this information contained.” Thoughts of her decadelong impasse with Tate vanished at the chief’s instruction.
“Of course, sir. I’ve not spoken to anyone about this as you instructed me.”
“Thank you. I knew you could be trusted on this.”
While it was nice to hear, and while she also knew the chief was under tremendous pressure, she struggled a bit with the secrecy. “Chief. May I ask you a question?”
Upon his silent nod she continued. “I appreciate the need to play this close to the vest, but wouldn’t it be better if the staff knew? More eyes, and all that, focused on the problem?”
“We’re not exactly a small department, but we are a small town. Do you honestly think people could keep this to themselves? And once one person knows, it will be through town faster than a fire.”
She’d lived here her entire life and she knew how the gossip flew. Something like this would be irresistible. “No, I suppose not.”
“I don’t like the secrecy either. And if it were up to me, I would take a few more people into my confidence. But Agent Ross has suggested we play this close to the vest for now and I’m inclined to trust his experience and his expertise.”
“I understand.” She stood from her chair, aware the discussion was at an end. She’d nearly turned for the door when Belle stopped. “Sir? One more question, if I may.”
“Yes?”
“Do you think he will strike again?”
“I do.”
“Do you think we’ll catch him before he does?”
“Truth?”
She nodded. “Of course.”
“With the limited information we have? No. I don’t think we will.”
As answers went, it wasn’t the one she wanted to hear. But she’d long stopped wishing for alternative outcomes. More often than not, the answers to questions were simply what they were.
The truth.
* * *
Tate wrapped up his morning ride on Tot, the wet air going a long way toward making him miserable in the saddle. Normally, he’d be happy to ride in any weather. Time spent on a horse was better than time spent on the ground pretty much any day, regardless of the condition of the skies.
But today wasn’t shaping up to be that day.
After checking on the cattle in the eastern pasture, he’d worked his way south again. He’d avoided traipsing over the same ground the cops had covered, but another week was fast blowing past them and he was sick of not having any answers. It was Wednesday, dammit. The body was discovered over two weeks ago and the department still hadn’t caught the bastard.
Was it really that hard?
Even as he thought the question, he knew the answer. The Pass might not be large in population but it was vast on land. The Reynolds, Vasquez and Crown ranches made up the majority of the town proper before stretching on to cover vast swaths of the county, spiraling out in three separate directions. Reynolds Station had its own zip code, for heaven’s sake. It wouldn’t be all that hard to get lost in his little stretch of Texas.
Not hard at all.
Which was why they’d begun their own attempts at patrolling the property. Hoyt had mapped out a monitoring system, walking him and Ace through his quadrant analysis of the ranch. Hoyt had identified each of the areas Tris Bradshaw believed he’d seen depressions or changes in the fence line. Although she took modest interest in the workings of their business, even Arden had gotten into the discussion, pointing out various places that seemed like good hiding places. Yet even with a list of places to start a watch or pay closer attention, it was nearly impossible to manage any sort of real surveillance of the property.
Which left him aimlessly roaming the grounds, looking for anything that might lead to a killer.
Tate let out a low string of curses. This was such BS. He was a rancher, for heaven’s sake, not a detective. He had plenty to do and none of it revolved around hunting for criminals who might be skulking over his property.
More mist slicked over his hat, dripping slowly off the brim and he let out a long, low sigh.
When had things gone so far off the rails?
He wasn’t hardwired to feel sorry for himself, but he had to admit, this whole murder thing had blindsided him. It had taken them years to dig out of the trench the old man had put them in, but they’d done it. More than that, as a matter of fact. They’d expanded and their business now thrived.
Yet it felt like they’d fallen right back to square one. The subject of town gossip and speculation. He’d heard the whispers himself and had felt the prying eyes every time he drove into town.
He and his brothers typically managed a breakfast in the Drop-In Diner on Mondays when they all went into town to do business. Bank, farm store, discussions with their lawyer if needed—it was a weekly ritual and they usually kicked off the day with a hearty breakfast, some light trash talk and a lot of shooting the breeze.
For the past two Mondays, all eyes in the diner had been on them. The quiet whispers. The casual attention as people stopped at their table to talk, pretending to keep it casual even as they were hoping for a crumb of information. Even their lawyer had gotten into the mix, his attention diverted from talk of an impending purchase on a head of cattle to discuss the sordid details of a dead body.
And underpinning all the confusion and chaos that had suddenly become his life was Belle. He’d done well avoiding her over the past decade, but with the discovery of the body, suddenly she was front and center in his life. He’d handle it—he knew that—but it didn’t change the fact that she’d unsettled him as much, if not more, than the discovery of a dead man.
Which was an insult, but that didn’t make it any less true. Nor could he deny another truth. He enjoyed her company.
Perhaps a bit too much.
Arden’s crafty management of dinner—and the extension of an invitation before anyone could argue—had ended up okay. It was more than nice to look over and see Belle sitting there, laughing in his kitchen. He’d wanted to be mad at his sister, but the truth was he hadn’t had such an enjoyable evening in far too long. Even if he had spent it with a raging hard-on and a deep desire to punch his older brother.
Ace had seemed to take extra enjoyment in hugging and touching Belle, making her laugh as often as
possible. Even Hoyt—sullen, surly Hoyt—had gotten into the game by the end. His younger brother had used charm on the woman.
Charm!
From Hoyt.
Had the world gone mad? Or was it just his corner of it?
The walkie-talkie at his waist chirped just as he heard an engine puttering in the distance. He unclipped the heavy device at his waist. “Reynolds. Over.”
“It’s Ace. Belle’s heading your way. You still in the east pasture?”
“Yep.”
“Stay where you’re at. She’ll come to you.”
“Got it.” Tate re-holstered the walkie-talkie at his waist. He’d almost question the seeming ability to conjure Belle from thin air just by thinking about her, but he thought about her all the time and she’d been remarkably absent since Sunday. So his powers were probably just a bunch of BS.
And besides, he thought about her too much. That was the plain and simple truth of the matter.
Since the terrible time they’d broken up, she’d always played in the background of his thoughts. During those times when he’d dated other women, she had faded fully into the background—he wasn’t particularly keen on using another woman to assuage an itch and he’d done his level best to truly put himself into those relationships with nothing but good intentions—but inevitably thoughts of Belle would creep in.
It would catch him off guard at first, a result of seeing her around town or hearing her name through an acquaintance or maybe Arden’s mention of a girls’ night out. That was usually all it took to remind him of her and to crash into whatever else was going on in his life. To remind him that she was the one who no one else, no matter how beautiful or charming or sexy, could ever live up to.
The freaking curse of his life.
The steady hum of an engine grew louder in the distance. Even through the rain, Tate heard the purr. Where he expected the typical eight cylinders that powered police vehicles, it was her smaller personal SUV that came into view.
