Colton and the Single Mom

by Jane Godman

  Yes, my dad thought his shy, sixteen-year-old son would enjoy having a stripper at his party. Growing up as Rusty Colton’s son hadn’t been easy.

  He had reached the police headquarters when a bark from Echo drew his attention. Looking up, he saw a plume of smoke rising into the air. He judged it to be coming from the area close to the Pour House.

  He stepped inside the building. Lorelei was always the best and fastest source of information. “Looks like there’s a fire in the downtown area. Any idea what’s going on?”

  “From the calls coming in, it looks like it could be the apartment over Andy’s Liquor Store—”

  Brayden didn’t wait to hear any more. He ran out of the building and headed for his vehicle with Echo at his heels. When he left the house that morning, Esmée had said she would be dropping Rhys at Sarah’s house and collecting the keys to Jack’s apartment. The one he had been renting above Andy’s Liquor Store.

  * * *

  Esmée had dropped Rhys at Sarah’s place. As expected, the kittens had proved to be a huge success. Rhys was so entranced by the tiny, mewing creatures, she didn’t think he even noticed when she left.

  She had called the liquor-store owner, Andy Coulson, the previous day, explaining that she was a friend of Jack’s and that she was going to start sorting through his belongings. When she arrived, he hailed her as “that filmmaker” and kept her talking while he gave her his opinion on the Groom Killer case.

  “Demi Colton? Pretty as a picture, but wild as an untamed colt. She was one to avoid.” There was a wistful note in his voice that suggested he’d have liked to get closer to Demi, but had never been given the opportunity.

  When she finally got away—having stopped in Andy’s kitchen to take him up on his offer to make use of his coffee maker—Esmée unlocked Jack’s apartment and reflected on how quickly a place could acquire an unlived-in air. There was a steep flight of stairs up to the apartment. The accommodation consisted of a square foyer, with a window overlooking the rear delivery yard, a living room with a kitchen area to one side and a bedroom with an en suite bathroom. Briskly, she had put aside the feeling of sadness that assailed her at the thought that her friend had once lived here. She hadn’t come here to grieve for Jack. That was for other times and places. She was here to help Brayden find information on Richie Lyman.

  Jack had clearly been ready to move out of this place and into Sarah’s neat little house. Most of his things were packed into boxes that were stacked in the sitting room. Esmée pulled up a chair and began to go through them. She had barely started when there was a sound of breaking glass and a loud thud. The noises came from the direction of the hall.

  Looking over her shoulder, she took in the broken window at the top of the stairs and the brick lying on the carpeted floor. Jumping to her feet, she was just in time to see a bottle with a burning rag stuffed into its neck follow the brick. The bottle had smashed on impact and a strong smell of gasoline filled the air. Flames immediately licked along the carpet and up the drapes on either side of the window, blocking Esmée’s access to the stairs. She slammed the door shut. The action stopped the flames from entering the room she was in, but it left her trapped.

  Reaching into the back pocket of her jeans for her cell phone, she came away empty-handed. A frown furrowed her brow. She never went anywhere without her cell. Then she remembered. While she had been making coffee in Andy’s kitchen, Sarah had sent her a message to see if Rhys had any allergies. An image of her phone came to her. She had placed it on the counter in the kitchen downstairs, but she couldn’t remember picking it up again.

  The one time I really need it...

  Going into the bathroom, Esmée gathered up towels and soaked them in water. Although she’d stopped the fire from spreading to these rooms, the blaze was blocking her path to the only staircase. Returning to the sitting room, she placed the damp cloths along the bottom of the door.

  Throwing up the casement window, she looked down onto the street below. It was too far to jump, and there was no one around. She had to hope someone would see the smoke, maybe even that someone had witnessed the arson attack. Although he was on the other side of the building, it was possible Andy had heard the window breaking. Hopefully, he was already aware that part of his premises was burning, and had alerted the fire department.

  Even though there was no one on the street below, she leaned out of the window and shouted for help. Her mind was working overtime as she did. Had Brayden been right all along? Could this fire have been started by the same man who shot at her? It was hard to see how this attack could be connected to the bloody knife Esmée had found up on the ridge. But the possibility that someone had decided to set fire to Jack’s apartment on the very day she came to check out his belongings? Within minutes of her arrival? That was stretching credibility to its outer limits.

  She still found it hard to believe someone was trying to drive her out of Red Ridge to stop her from making a documentary about the Groom Killer. First, because she hadn’t even started on the details of her story. Apart from a few interviews, she hadn’t put anything together. Anyone wanting to stop the truth from coming out would be better off going after the editor of the Red Ridge Gazette. The newspaper was publishing increasingly lurid articles delving into the past lives of everyone involved. Second, Red Ridge was the sort of town where everyone knew each other’s business anyway. Unless Demi Colton was innocent and the person trying to scare off Esmée was the real killer?

  When her cries for help didn’t attract any attention, she viewed the door. Knowing better than to open it, she went over and held her hand close to it. Sure enough, she could feel the heat through the painted wooden panels. The fire must have taken a strong hold on the other side. Tendrils of smoke were beginning to seep through the gap between the door and the frame. Esmée knew how it went. It wasn’t fire that killed. It was smoke.

  She bit her lip. The window was the only way. Since jumping was out of the question, she would have to see if she could climb down. As she moved toward the window, a heavy thud hit the side of the building and a familiar head and shoulders appeared in the opening.

  “Brayden?”

  Momentarily, she wondered if, while she was seeking a way out, her imagination had run wild and conjured up the very rescuer she’d wished for. But Brayden was real. Sitting astride the window ledge, he assessed the situation.

  “It doesn’t look like we’re going to get out through the door.” The paint was starting to blister and Esmée could feel the increased heat. “This ladder is a bit shaky, but Andy is holding it at the bottom. I’ll be right behind you.”

  She gave a nervous laugh. “Brayden, you always say the sweetest things.”

  He stepped into the room. Standing to one side, he helped her climb onto the window ledge, then held on to her until she was steady on the ladder. “Just take it slowly. You’re out of danger now.”

  A glance down told her it was a long way. She could see Andy, his face pale, gripping the base of the ladder. A fire engine had pulled up across the street. Taking a deep breath, she started a slow descent. When she was halfway down, Brayden started to climb down behind her. Although his increased weight made the ladder move around more, his presence steadied her nerves and she moved faster.

  When her feet hit the sidewalk, her knees refused to hold her upright. Before she could sink onto the wooden boards, strong hands gripped her waist. Brayden scooped her up into his arms and carried her across to the opposite side of the road.

  “We need to get away from the building.”

  His car was parked behind the fire engine and he lifted her into the passenger seat. Echo was in his specially adapted compartment in the back and all the windows were open to ensure the vehicle was properly ventilated. The dog gave a bark of greeting when he saw Esmée and she reached around to pet him. There it was again. That soothing feeling that came from contact with
Echo. Canine therapy. There was definitely something to it.

  The apartment above Andy’s Liquor Store was now blazing out of control with flames clearly visible within the room Esmée had just left. The image made her feel slightly sick. If Brayden hadn’t arrived when he did...if she’d waited for the firefighters...

  “Hey.” Brayden was watching her face. “It’s okay. You’re safe.”

  “Thanks to you.” Her chin wobbled. “Again.”

  “Yeah. Rescuing you is becoming a habit with me.” His voice was light, but there was a deeper emotion in his eyes. They stared at each other for a moment or two before the fire drew Brayden’s attention again. He watched as the firefighters prepared to turn a hose on the building. “Somehow, I don’t think there’s much chance of us finding Jack’s notebooks now, do you?”

  Chapter 10

  Even after giving Brayden the details of what had happened, Esmée was still shaken. She decided to go home instead of spending any more time working, but Brayden suggested going for coffee before she went to pick up Rhys.

  “I don’t know.” She held up a trembling hand. “I’m not sure I could handle it if anyone approached me with a Demi Colton anecdote this morning.” She grimaced as she realized what she’d said. “Although they probably wouldn’t try it if you were with me.”

  His jaw muscles clenched. “Don’t be so sure about that. Some of the Gage family are only too happy to tell me what they think about my sister. Luckily, I know a place where we can get a great cup of coffee and some privacy.”

  A few minutes later, he turned onto Main Street and pulled up outside Good Eats. Intrigued, Esmée got out of the car. From her research into the town, she knew this was the catering business of his older half sister, Quinn. Echo, jumping down from the rear of the vehicle, clearly knew his way and bounded eagerly toward the door.

  When they stepped inside, the interior of the store was quiet, but a delicious smell permeated the entire space.

  “Kitchen.” Brayden jerked his thumb toward the back.

  They found Quinn poring over a recipe book while stirring a large pot on the stove. She greeted Brayden with a smile. No hug, Esmée noticed. Maybe that wasn’t so strange. They hadn’t been brought up together.

  When Quinn observed her brother’s companion, she frowned. “I don’t want to talk about my sister.”

  “Nor do I,” Brayden said. “Esmée knows that. But she’s had a nasty shock and I told her you make the best coffee in town.” He turned to Esmée. “And I didn’t mention the gluten-free lemon cake.”

  “Do you have brothers?” Quinn asked.

  The unexpected change of subject threw Esmée off balance. “Um, no.”

  “They will say anything for food.” Quinn smiled. “Or is that just men?”

  Esmée laughed. “I have a son. It’s men.”

  They were soon seated at a table and Esmée discovered that Brayden hadn’t exaggerated about either the coffee or the cake. Even Echo was provided for with a healthy dog treat and a bowl of water. As the immediate shock of the fire began to recede, she took the time to observe the interaction between brother and sister. The first thing she noticed was that Brayden and Quinn didn’t behave like a brother and sister. Despite Quinn’s joke, there was none of the closeness she’d have expected to see from siblings. It was almost as if they were friends because that was what they were supposed to do.

  “How’s business?” Brayden asked.

  Quinn’s shoulders drooped. “Awful.” She turned to Esmée. “Most of my work used to come from catering weddings. But, you know...” She trailed off, apparently remembering to whom she was talking.

  Esmée decided to try to alleviate Quinn’s suspicions. “If it helps, Brayden and I have an agreement. I won’t make my documentary until after the Groom Killer is found and brought to justice.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  “It’s a long story, but Esmée and her son, Rhys, are staying with me for the time being.”

  “Oh.” Quinn looked first at Brayden and then at Esmée. “Are you two—”

  “No.” Brayden and Esmée said the word together. She recognized the flash of pure mischief in his eyes and threw him a cautionary look.

  “I had some problems with the last place I was staying and Brayden stepped in to help.”

  Quinn gave a sigh. She cast a sidelong look at Brayden. “Don’t you sometimes wish you could talk about Demi?”

  He frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t know.” She crumbled a piece of cake on her plate without eating it. “It’s like the whole town is talking about her and I feel like I should be the one person who knows the truth. But I don’t. Isn’t that horrible of me? She’s my sister and I don’t know whether I think she’s guilty or not because I don’t know her well enough.”

  “She’s not guilty.” Brayden’s voice was grim.

  “What does Shane think?” Quinn asked.

  “Shane knows how easy it is to frame someone.” Brayden turned to Esmée to explain what he meant. “Our brother was wrongly convicted of murder when he was eighteen. He spent a year and a half in prison before he was released after being fully exonerated. The cop who framed him was a Gage.” It was more evidence of the chasm that divided the two families. “I haven’t spoken to Shane recently. He’s been out on the road on an investigation.”

  “He’s a cop?” Esmée was confused. Even if Shane had been cleared of any crime, she would be surprised to learn he’d joined the police after such a devastating experience.

  “He’s a private investigator.”

  An idea entered Esmée’s head. It saddened her to see how much this family was hurting. Brayden had done so much for her—maybe there was something she could do in return. He would probably veto the suggestion, so she jumped right in without consulting him.

  “You and Shane should come to dinner. That way, you can all talk about Demi without worrying about what other people might think.”

  Brayden flicked a scowl her way, but Quinn clasped her hands together. “I’d really like that. And I’ve never seen your house, Brayden.”

  “Then it’s settled. I’ll cook and you can bring dessert.” From under the table, Echo gave a contented sigh. “And dog treats.” She turned her head to look at Brayden as he got to his feet. “You could get Quinn a deal with the K-9 training center.”

  “I’ll bear it in mind.” He placed a hand under her elbow. “We should go.”

  She studied his profile as they returned to the car. “You do that really well.”

  He glanced down at her. “What?”

  “The mean, moody look. Do you practice in the mirror?”

  His lips twitched. “You are shameless.”

  “I can be.” She stopped walking and swung around abruptly to face him. “Brayden, look at me.”

  He did as she asked, his expression perplexed. “What are you—”

  She placed a hand on the back of his neck, drawing him down to her until their faces were only inches apart. It had started as a joke, but the temptation to kiss him suddenly became overwhelming. The answering flare in Brayden’s eyes made her regret her sudden impulse. She felt so comfortable with him, she had acted without stopping to think about the consequences. In the future, she would have to remember to limit any playfulness to verbal teasing.

  With a smile, she touched a fingertip to the corner of his mouth. “Cake crumbs.”

  Quick as a flash, he caught hold of her around the waist. Leaning closer, he brushed his lips lightly over hers before running his tongue along her lower lip. Perhaps she could blame the delayed effects of smoke inhalation for the way the breath left her lungs in a single dramatic whoosh? Or the way she had to press both palms flat against his chest to stay upright? Even the way her eyelids fluttered closed?

  “Delicious.”

 
“Hmm?” She opened her eyes to find Brayden smiling down at her.

  “You had cake crumbs on your lips as well.” The smile deepened, became wicked. “They tasted like heaven.”

  She was left staring after him as he turned his back and walked away. When he returned from getting Echo into the rear of the car, his expression was serene.

  Her joke had well and truly backfired. Clearly, they were playing a that-wasn’t-a-kiss game. “I’ll walk back to Andy’s store for my car if you need to be somewhere else.”

  “I’m going back there anyway. I want to talk to Andy and find out if he saw anything before the fire started. Someone threw a brick and then a burning bottle through a second-floor window in broad daylight. I’m hoping he or she was seen.”

  Esmée slid into the passenger seat. They drove in silence until they reached the smoldering liquor store. Firefighters were still clearing up at the scene and a small group of onlookers were watching from the opposite side of the street.

  Brayden viewed it for a few moments before turning to Esmée. “Until we find out who did this, and why, you have to be careful. Two attempts on your life in a few days. That’s a hell of a coincidence.”

  She swallowed hard. “You think the same guy who shot at me did this?”

  “I don’t know...but I intend to find out.”

  Esmée decided she couldn’t walk away without asking the question that was uppermost in her mind. They might be in the middle of an important investigation—she might even be facing the prospect of someone threatening her life—but she still needed an answer.

  “What tasted like heaven, Brayden? The cake crumbs or my lips?”

  He smiled and she wondered how she’d ever thought him reserved. “Both.”

  * * *

  Brayden found Andy at the entrance to the delivery yard at the rear of the store, gazing up at the damaged building. Firefighters had cordoned off the scene and he wasn’t allowed any closer.