“She said she saw how you took off after her like maybe you thought Miss Kara’d done the shooting.”
A sick feeling churned in Brady’s gut. “Mr. Bunch, think carefully. Did you mention Kara Pearson by name in this discussion?”
“Well...”
Brady waited through another nerve-scraping hesitation.
“I believe so. Mabel said something ’bout how you and Kara were a couple once, and weren’t it a shame that y’all hadn’t made it work out.”
Brady shoved down the frustration of having his love life discussed by the town, and focused on the more important detail. The sniper could have learned Kara’s identity, could know the name of the one person who’d seen him at the scene of the crime.
“Did the guy, by any chance, pay with a credit card?”
“Naw. Cash.”
Brady had expected as much, but it was worth a shot. “Thank you for calling, Mr. Bunch. I’ll send a deputy by to take an official statement.”
He disconnected the call and rocked back in his desk chair with a deep exhale of dread. Suddenly it seemed far less likely that the sniper had left town to look for April and more likely he’d stayed to find Kara. And keep her quiet.
Chapter 8
“Kara?” A quiet voice she knew well nudged her out of sleep, while a warm hand gently shook her shoulder. For the briefest moment, she could pretend she was at home in her bed, that this familiar routine was just another day like she’d shared with Brady so many times before. He was leaving for work and telling her goodbye...
“The mug shots from Austin are here. We need you to look at them.”
And just like that, the sweet sense of familiarity, that all was right with the world once more, shattered. Mug shots. Of the shooter. Who’d tried to kill her.
Adrenaline and a renewed disquiet shot through her, and the cobwebs of sleep were banished. She sat up quickly, blinking against the light in Brady’s office. “How long was I asleep?”
“About an hour.” He put a hand under her arm to help her rise to her feet, but she batted him away. “Sorry to wake you, but the sooner we get an ID on this cretin, the better.”
She scrubbed a hand over her face and pushed her unkempt hair back from her face. Her muscles were stiff, and she moaned as she pushed to her feet and stretched the kink from her back. “Lead on.”
Wilhite was waiting on them in the interrogation room, a laptop set up with a screen full of mug shots already on display. With a wave of his hand, Brady motioned her to the chair in front of the computer, then took a seat beside her.
“So how does this work? I just look at all these pictures and tell you if I see the guy?” Her stomach fluttered a bit at the thought of the shooter’s dark glare.
“Pretty much.” Brady angled the computer so they could both see the screen. “Just remember, he could have facial hair or a different hairstyle, even a different hair color. So look at the things that don’t change. Nose shape, spacing of eyes, moles and so forth.”
She leaned forward and narrowed her gaze on the faces staring back at her. “None of those.”
“Take your time. Look carefully,” Brady said, but clicked to the next screen.
She studied the next set of mug shots, all too aware of the brush of Brady’s arm against hers as he leaned in to look, as well. Wasn’t this task hard enough without the distraction of Brady’s hard muscles and warm body next to her? The scent of his aftershave clung to the clothes he’d changed into and tickled her senses.
She steeled herself to his effect on her and tried hard to concentrate on the pictures that flashed on the screen. “No. No. No,” she said again and again as the parade of faces yielded nothing.
After several minutes with no success, Brady sighed. “Are you sure, Kara? Concentrate. None of these guys look even remotely familiar?”
She cast him a disgruntled side glance. “Don’t you think I’m trying? I want to catch this guy as much as you do. Maybe more. After all, he shot at me. He tried to kill me.”
Brady held up a hand to silence her. “I know. But I also know you’re tired and want to be sure you’re really focusing. This is important.”
A snarky retort formed on her tongue, but she swallowed it. Bickering with Brady served no purpose. Rubbing her fingers against her temple, Kara studied the screen again. “No, none of these.”
Brady clicked the next screen, and she shook her head at the unfamiliar faces. But when the next screen came up, one face jumped out at her. Her pulse spiked, and she grabbed Brady’s wrist. “Wait!”
She leaned closer and squinted at the screen. Pointing, she asked, “Can you make that picture bigger?”
With the roll of the wireless mouse and a few clicks, Brady made the mug shot that had caught her attention full screen. A chill seeped to her bones, and she said in a raspy voice, “That’s him.”
Brady gave her a hard look. “You’re sure?”
She studied the picture and knew right away why she’d not been able to get the eyes just right with the sketch artist. The mark under his eye wasn’t a mole.
“It’s a tattoo,” she mumbled, more to herself than anyone else. A teardrop tattoo, she realized, and shuddered.
She remembered watching a movie with Brady months ago, in which one of the characters had a teardrop tattoo. Brady had explained to her that the tattoo had two meanings. Originally, such a mark signified the wearer had been raped in prison. More recently, the body art had been adopted by those who wanted to tell the world they’d committed a murder. She’d wager the sniper’s tattoo meant the latter.
“Kara?” Brady prompted.
She wrapped her arms around herself, recalling the moments of terror in the Wheeler barn, the crack of gunfire ringing in her ears and this man’s lethal glare boring into her. “Yes. I’m sure that’s him. That’s the guy who shot at me at the Wheeler barn today.” She frowned and looked at the clock. “Or yesterday, rather.”
“And Villareal’s funeral in Austin. Same guy you saw there?”
She stared at the man’s craggy face and nodded. “It is.”
Brady turned to Deputy Wilhite. “Get me everything you can find about Dennis Cobb. And have the lab compare the fingerprints from the abandoned car with the ones in the system for Cobb.”
Wilhite jerked a nod as he left the room. “I’m on it.”
Brady put his hand at her nape and his fingers massaged the tense muscles of her neck. “Good work, ba—” He paused, sighing, then finished, “Kara.”
She savored the bone-melting bliss of the deep rubs and tried not to think about how much she missed his touch. Brady’s fingers were as talented with a foot or shoulder rub as they were in bringing her to climax.
Don’t go there...
Kara cleared her throat and glanced back at him. “So can I go home now?”
He dropped his hand from her back and moved to the door. “Soon. I don’t want you going alone, and I have a thing or two to finish up before we go.”
Pivoting on the chair, she angled a dubious look at him. “We? You’re going home with me?”
“That was the plan.”
“Why? Haven’t I cooperated? I’ve answered all your questions, told you everything I remember—”
“Kara, I have a report that a guy that looked like your sketch was seen at the Stop-N-Shop earlier tonight.” Brady squared his shoulders. “I don’t think it’s safe for you to be home alone. He could be looking for you. I’m going to stay with you until he’s caught.”
Her heart thumped harder, but she couldn’t be sure whether it was because of the news that the shooter was still in the area...or because Brady was volunteering his protection. Both scenarios were cause for alarm.
On one hand, she had a man gunning for her life. On the other hand, she had Brady, poised to break her heart. Again.
* * *
“We got a match!” Wilhite announced as he strode through Brady’s office door without knocking. He waved a sheet of paper, then slapped
it on Brady’s desk. “The prints from the abandoned car match the ones that belong to the repeat offender outta Austin that Kara identified as the shooter.”
“Dennis Cobb?” Brady asked for confirmation.
“Dennis Cobb.”
Kara sat up from where she’d been slumped on Brady’s couch again, waiting for him to take her home. He could tell she was disgruntled with him over his plan to guard her, but...too bad. Not only was it his job to protect her, he cared about her. She needed to get used to the idea that he was going to stick to her like fly paper until Cobb was arrested. Longer, if he had his say. He couldn’t help believing fate had thrown them together for a reason. He intended to take full advantage of the opportunity to hash things out with her.
Wilhite tapped the top of the page where Cobb’s name and mug shot stared back at Brady. “The guy’s got a rap sheet a mile long. Car theft, assault, parole violations and drugs, to name a few.”
Kara grunted her disgust. “So why is the guy on the street instead of locked up?”
Brady thought of his earlier conversation with Nate and Kara’s assertion that she’d seen Cobb at the funeral she’d attended two weeks prior with April.
“Cross-check Dennis Cobb and any known associates with anything related to Martin Villareal’s death earlier this month.” Then, after a moment’s thought he added, “Or any connection to Ross Allen Chambers’s exoneration.”
“Chambers?” Wilhite sounded stunned.
“You heard me. And call Nate Wheeler and find out if he or April know the name. If he was gunning for April, as we suspect, there’s got to be a connection somewhere.”
His deputy gave a low whistle. “All right. I’ll let you know what I find.”
As his deputy turned to leave the office, Brady frowned. “Wilhite? When did you come in today?”
The deputy shrugged. “8:00 a.m.”
Brady stood and put on his duty belt and coat. “That’s what I thought. Get some sleep. Give all this to Deputy Smith to work on tonight, and we’ll pick it up in the morning.”
Wilhite opened his mouth, and before he could argue, Brady added, “That’s an order. I’m taking Kara home and will work from there until further notice.”
Wilhite divided a knowing look between Brady and Kara. “Okay. Good night...and good luck.”
* * *
“Finally.” Kara pushed to her feet and stretched, eager to get home to her own bed. She followed Brady to the front of the sheriff’s department, determined not to think about what it would mean to have Brady in her home again.
As they passed the front desk, Earlene called to Kara. “Wait a minute, honey. I forgot to give this to ya earlier.” She reached under her desk and slid out a cardboard box with a variety of items, from cardigan sweaters to wrapped gifts. “This is all stuff left behind by folks at the wedding when they scattered after the shots were fired. The deputies brought it all here for safekeeping until the owners claim it.” Earlene pulled out Kara’s small dress purse and held it up. “This is yours, right? I checked the ID in the wallet.”
A sense of gratitude washed through Kara, and a giddy joy raised a smile on her face. “Oh, my gosh, yes! Thank you.” She took the purse and opened it, checking that her phone, her wallet, her keys were all still there. “I was afraid I was going to have to replace all this, cancel credit cards, change the locks on my house... You’ve just saved me major hassles! I could kiss you.”
Earlene chuckled. “Save your kisses for the sheriff, honey. I’m just glad I could get it back to ya.”
The older woman winked at her, and a sting of heat flushed Kara’s cheeks as the kisses she’d shared with Brady at the arroyo flashed in her memory. She cut an awkward side glance to Brady, and the heat in his eyes said he was remembering those stolen moments, too.
Normally she’d be quick to correct anyone who suggested she still had any relationship with Brady. Why couldn’t the town just let the idea of them together go? But she was so happy to have her belongings back, she let the comment slide. Tucking the purse under her arm, she turned to follow Brady out to his truck.
Finally something had gone right today. She allowed herself to exhale a breath she’d not realized she’d been holding.
The moment of relief was short-lived, however. As soon as she climbed in Brady’s truck, she pulled out her phone and checked her messages. She had four missed calls and a dozen texts. Most were from Hannah, frantic to know where she was and if she was all right. But several texts were from Nate’s phone. April had used her fiancé’s phone to text:
Nate’s dad shot. Following airlift to Lubbock. Where are you? Are you safe? Love u, A.
The messages that followed grew increasingly urgent-sounding, asking for assurances that Kara was safe and begging for word of her whereabouts. Updates on Nate’s father were not encouraging either. But the most recent message April had sent was the most ominous, echoing Brady’s theory about Cobb.
Nate says u saw the shooter. Please b careful. The creep may come looking for u. Let me know u r ok!! A.
Kara rubbed her weary eyes and quickly typed texts to both April and Hannah, reassuring them she was safe and apologizing for worrying them. After sticking her mobile phone back in her purse, she leaned her head back and closed her eyes.
Today had been so long, so traumatic...and if Brady and April were right about Cobb’s intentions, the worst was yet to come.
* * *
Brady’s thoughts went in a hundred directions as he drove Kara back to her house. The manhunt for Cobb, the possible connections to Martin Villareal’s death...and Kara. Always Kara. His thoughts hadn’t been far from her since the day he met her.
Deep inside, he knew the events of today and the hours he’d spend with her until Cobb was arrested could make or break their relationship. Kara might argue that they had no relationship anymore, but he wouldn’t give up on her without one last chance to understand her reasons for leaving. Her response to his kisses earlier this afternoon told him she still had feelings for him. They still shared a physical chemistry that sizzled and smoldered just under the surface of her pretenses to the contrary.
Gravel crunched under his tires as he turned onto her driveway and eased toward the front of her house. As his headlights swept the yard, he searched the property for signs of an intruder. Her house was dark except for a string of twinkling Christmas lights strung across the front porch roofline.
Kara had the passenger door open and was stumbling out of the front seat before he even had the truck in park. He hustled to catch up with her as she dug her keys out of her purse.
“Kara, wait!” he said in a low tone, wrapping his hand around hers before she could put the key in the lock.
“What now?” she grumbled, and her shoulders drooped. Her fatigue rolled off her in waves, and he knew how eager she was for a shower and sleep. But her comfort didn’t preempt her safety.
“We have no idea where Cobb is.” He took the key from her with surprising ease, which spoke to the extent of her weariness. “Let me go first, check things out, before you go in.”
Her eyes widened as his meaning registered, and she cut an anxious gaze to her dark house. “You think he could be in there waiting for me?”
“I think it’s better to be safe than sorry.” He pushed her back from the door with a firm nudge. “Stay away from the door until I give the all clear. Got it?”
She gave him a dazed stare and a small nod.
Standing to the side himself, he unlocked the door and pushed it open. Taking his service weapon from his holster, he led with his gun as he eased inside, sweeping his gaze around one room, then the next. He moved deeper into the house, turning on lights and checking behind doors and furniture. He actually hoped Cobb was hiding somewhere in Kara’s house. He’d love nothing more than to take the bastard down tonight and free April and Kara from the menace that hung over them all like a black cloud.
When he entered the laundry room, he reached for the switch for th
e overhead light. A rustling noise and movement by the large sink caught his attention, and he whipped his weapon toward the spot.
“Me-row!”
The loud meow jolted his heightened senses. Flicking on the light, he frowned at the large Siamese cat with dark brown markings that sat up in a laundry basket and blinked sleepily. “Hello, beastie.” He huffed out a breath as his pulse settled back into a normal rhythm. “So you’re the latest critter in her collection, huh?”
“Me-row!” the cat answered, and eyed Brady warily.
When he moved closer to pat the cat’s head, the tom jumped out of the basket and skittered out of the room for cover.
From the kitchen, he heard Kara’s voice cooing, “It’s okay, Jerry. He won’t hurt you. Come here, sweetie.”
He found her crouching in the middle of the kitchen floor, rubbing the cat’s neck. “I thought I told you to wait for the all clear.”
“I did wait. When I didn’t hear gunshots, shouting or a scuffle, I figured it was safe to come in.” She glanced up at him with a confident look. “And it is clear, right?”
He reholstered his gun. “Yeah,” he grumbled. “You got lucky this time. But next time, do what I tell you.”
She rolled her eyes and walked away from him, which irritated him all the more.
“Where are you going?” he asked as he followed her, his tone frosty.
“To get a hot shower and go to bed.” She paused in the hall and faced him. “Do I have your permission, sheriff?”
She glared at him for a few seconds before continuing down the hall and disappearing into the bathroom.
Brady stared at the closed door, a hollowness in his chest. What had happened to them? He stayed where he stood, as if rooted to the spot, and took in all the familiar sights of her home. Not much had changed since the last time he’d been here. For that matter, not much had changed since her parents had lived in this house. She’d preserved her childhood home, from the ancient appliances in the kitchen to the worn furniture filling the living room, as if changing anything meant losing her parents again.
Family pictures featuring Kara in pigtails, her parents’ wedding pictures and her father in uniform hung in angled lines on the walls. A ratty old afghan was draped on the back of a rocking chair, both hand-me-downs from her grandmother, and a soft light glowed above an aquarium tank, where a small turtle paddled happily in the water.
Cowboy Christmas Rescue Page 9
