COLD CASE AT CAMDEN CROSSING

by Rita Herron

  Chaz pulled up to his office, parked and strode inside. “You’ve spoken with Sheriff Blair over in Sunset Mesa?”

  “She’s next on my list.”

  “So you think we’re talking about one kidnapper?”

  “Maybe. That’s the reason for the task force, to coordinate efforts and see if we find a connection.”

  “If this perpetrator has been doing this for years and gotten away with it, he has to be pretty damn smart.” Which would rule out Barry.

  “He definitely knows how to stay under the radar.”

  His deputy must be making rounds as the office was empty. Chaz claimed his desk chair and turned to the computer. “Send me all the info you have on the cases. I’ll compare it to our cold case. How old are these women?”

  “Mid-twenties.”

  Hmm, maybe the cases weren’t related. The first two victims had disappeared from Sunset Mesa when they were in their teens. These young women were in their twenties.

  “Thanks. The more eyes we have on this, the better.”

  Chaz hung up and made himself some coffee while he waited on the information. When it came in, he printed out copies of the files to take home to study.

  He jotted down some quick notes on the dates of the disappearances, and frowned. Just as Sheriff Blair mentioned, all the girls and these two women had gone missing in the spring.

  Was the time of year significant for a reason? And if so, what the hell did it mean?

  * * *

  TAWNY-LYNN TACKLED her father’s room when she got home, but as she dumped liquor bottles and beer cans into the trash, her conversations with Cindy and Rudy replayed through her head.

  Who was the older man Peyton had been in love with?

  Cigarette smoke permeated the air, so she gathered the bedding and towels in the bathroom and piled them in the trash. She tackled her father’s closet next, a well of emotion bubbling inside her as she folded his pants and shirts to donate to the church. Some were too stained, tattered and smoke-riddled to save, but she found two hats he’d bought but never worn and Sunday ties that hadn’t been seen in a decade and added them to the church bag.

  She flipped on the radio while she sorted and cleaned, tuning in as the weatherman forecasted rain by the weekend. Tomorrow she’d tackle the outside of the ranch. She could finish cleaning and do minor repairs on the rainy days.

  Her shoulders ached with fatigue as she hauled the bags out to the truck, then she scrubbed the walls and bathroom, determined to cleanse the smoky scent. But two hours later when her hands were practically raw, the scent still lingered.

  Deciding she needed to clear the braided rug out, she rolled it up, dragged it outside and tossed it into the back of the truck to dispose of.

  A noise sounded from the corner of the house, and her breath caught. Slowly she inched around the side to see what it was, and found a stray cat pawing at the ground by the old flowerbeds.

  Relieved, she hurried back inside and locked the door. She finished in her father’s room by taking down the ancient curtains that had turned from white to a yellowed brown, then tossed them into a trash bag.

  She found another stack of mail on the desk and sorted through it. A crinkled envelope caught her eye, and she opened it, surprised to find an offer to buy the ranch from Chaz’s father. Her eyes widened at the amount he’d offered. The letterhead held the bank’s logo, and had been dated three weeks before.

  Why would Mr. Camden want to buy the ranch?

  Because he owned almost everything else in town.

  Maybe he’d tried to run her father off like he’d done her because he reminded him of Ruth.

  Did Chaz know about the offer?

  She carried the envelope to the kitchen and dropped it into the basket with the unpaid bills, then returned to finish the bedroom. She found a shoebox of photos and put them in the den to sort through later.

  Next she attacked the fireplace. It was full of old ashes and soot, so she swept it out and cleaned the hearth, then wiped down the fireplace tools. Then she swept and mopped the wood floor in her father’s room.

  Muscles aching, she stood back and admired her work. The house was old, but cleaning it made a huge difference. Exhausted, she climbed the steps, showered, then collapsed into bed.

  Her landscape work was physical, but this heavy lifting had strained muscles she didn’t even know she had.

  She closed her eyes, praying the nightmares would leave her alone, and fell into a deep sleep. But sometime later, a noise startled her awake.

  Cool air floated around her, giving her a chill. The house was old and drafty, but she remembered leaving the windows open in her father’s room to air out the smoke, so she grabbed her robe, tugged it on and tiptoed down the stairs. She reached for the light to flip it on, but suddenly someone grabbed her from behind.

  Tawny-Lynn screamed and threw her elbow back in defense, but her attacker threw her facedown and straddled her. She kicked and bucked, but he was heavier than her, and he pinned her to the floor.

  Then he wrapped his hands around her throat, his fingers digging into her windpipe.

  Chapter Eleven

  Tawny-Lynn struggled to breathe, but her attacker tightened his grip and she gagged for air. Furious at herself for leaving the window open, she channeled that anger into adrenaline, shoved her hands beneath her chest and pushed herself up, bucking to throw her attacker off her.

  The tactic worked, and he loosened his hold for a brief second, just long enough for her to crawl toward the fireplace. The poker was only inches away. If she could just reach it...

  But he was fast. He gripped her ankle and tried to drag her away from it. She used her other foot to kick at him, then clawed her way toward the fire poker. A blow to her back made her cry out in pain, and tears burned her eyes.

  But she blinked them back. She didn’t intend to let this creep kill her.

  She kicked backward again and heard his grunt as she connected with his nose. Panting for air, she scrambled to her knees and grabbed the poker.

  Then she flipped around just as he charged toward her. It was dark, but she squinted to see his face.

  Impossible. He was wearing a ski mask, two dark eyes glaring at her as he heaved for a breath.

  She clenched the fire poker in a white-knuckled grip and swung it just as she used to do the bat. He ducked to the side and she missed his head by a fraction of an inch. But the poker connected with his shoulder. He roared in anger and lunged to wrestle it from her, but she swung it toward his knees. She hit one and he crumpled with a curse.

  Taking the fire poker with her, Tawny-Lynn jumped up and ran past him, stomach churning as she raced upstairs to get her phone. She stumbled once, but caught herself, then raced into her bedroom, grabbed her phone and locked herself in the bathroom.

  Her hands trembled as she punched Chaz’s number. God help her, she wished she’d grabbed her father’s rifle from the closet. From now on, she’d sleep with it by the bed.

  Downstairs, footsteps pounded, and she prayed he wasn’t coming up the steps for her. The phone rang twice, then Chaz finally answered.

  “Chaz, it’s Tawny-Lynn. Someone’s in the house. He tried to choke me.”

  “I’m on my way. Where are you?”

  “Locked in my bathroom. Hurry...” She pressed her ear to the door to listen. “Oh, God, he’s coming up the steps.”

  * * *

  CHAZ GRABBED HIS GUN and raced to his car, fear for Tawny-Lynn spiking his adrenaline. He pressed the accelerator to the floor, tires squealing as he sped down the road toward White Forks.

  Night cast shadows across the road, and he watched for cars in case Tawny-Lynn’s intruder was escaping.

  He hoped to hell the bastard had run and that Tawny-Lynn was safe.

&nb
sp; He rounded the curve on two wheels, grateful he lived so close to the ranch and that hardly anyone was out on the road this late at night. His father had had a saying, that nothing good happened after midnight. One sentiment they agreed on.

  A dark SUV flew past him, and he glanced back, wondering if it might be the intruder, but it had a Montana tag. Probably a tourist traveling through.

  He swung the squad car down the drive to White Forks, then cut the siren, his headlights paving a path on the dark dirt drive. It was a moonless night, the stars hidden behind the ominous clouds that so far had held back their wrath.

  He bounced over the ruts, his heart racing as he scanned the property. Except for Boulder’s old pickup, there were no vehicles in sight.

  Had the intruder parked down the road and hiked in through the woods?

  He slammed his car to a stop, flipped off his lights and climbed out, easing his car door shut. He held his gun at the ready as he approached, checking in all directions for an ambush.

  The sound of an animal scrounging through the woods echoed in the distance—or maybe it was Tawny-Lynn’s attacker escaping.

  He had to check the house first. Instincts on alert, he eased his way up the porch steps, mentally seeing that damned bloody deer carcass.

  Apparently the threats had been real.

  The front door was locked, so he jiggled it but the new dead bolt was in place. Damn. How had the intruder gotten in?

  He rushed down the steps and walked around the side of the house until he found an open window in old man Boulder’s room. Cursing beneath his breath, he climbed through the window, then tiptoed across the room, bracing his gun.

  The room was clear. Clean and clear, he thought, shocked at how much work Tawny-Lynn had done in such a short time.

  Holding his breath, he inched into the hall to the living room and kitchen and scanned the rooms. Though it was dark as hell, he didn’t see or hear anything.

  Tawny-Lynn said she was locked in her bathroom. He checked the laundry room off the kitchen and the back door. Still locked. The intruder had to have either left through the window or he was still upstairs.

  Silence fell around him, tense and almost debilitating it was so thick with his own fear. He imagined finding Tawny-Lynn dead and his knees nearly caved beneath him.

  He gripped the stair rail as he climbed the steps, then glanced in Peyton’s room. Tawny-Lynn had obviously cleaned out the room, as well. The old posters, bedding and memorabilia had been packed up, the shelves empty. The room even smelled of Pine-Sol and furniture polish.

  But no one was inside.

  He inched toward Tawny-Lynn’s room next, pausing to listen at the door. His mind traveled down a dangerous road, envisioning Tawny-Lynn’s brutalized body, but he blinked to purge the disturbing images and turned the doorknob.

  The door squeaked open, and he cut his eyes across the room. More shadows and darkness. He crept through the door, then checked the closet, relieved when no one jumped him, then rapped on the bathroom door.

  “Tawny-Lynn, it’s me, Chaz.”

  He waited a second, his breath tight, then rapped again. “Tawny-Lynn, it’s me. The house is clear.”

  Suddenly the door swung open and Tawny-Lynn stood in front of him, a fire poker clenched in her hands, her face stark-white with fear.

  * * *

  TAWNY-LYNN WAS shaking so hard she could barely stand. She’d imagined her attacker breaking into the bathroom and finishing her off.

  Then she’d never see Chaz again. Or find out what happened to her sister.

  “He’s gone. Are you all right?” Chaz asked in a gruff voice.

  She nodded, but her throat was too thick to speak.

  Then she didn’t have to talk because Chaz stowed his gun in his holster, pulled her up against him and wrapped his arms around her. “Shh, it’s okay now,” he murmured against her hair.

  “He tried to choke me,” Tawny-Lynn whispered.

  Chaz’s breath brushed her cheek as he lifted her chin. “Did you see who it was?”

  She shook her head, shivering as she remembered the man’s hands gripping her throat. And his face...it was as blank as the man who’d dragged her from the fire.

  Was it the same person?

  “It was dark, and he wore a ski mask,” she said. “All I saw were his eyes. I think they were brown.”

  Chaz examined her neck, his jaw tensing. “Did he say anything?”

  “No...he just jumped me and threw me down.”

  He touched the handle of the fire poker. “You used this on him?”

  She nodded, and he took it and dropped it to the floor. Then a slow smile spread across his face. “Good for you.”

  In spite of the tears pressing at the back of her eyelids, she smiled. “I hit him in the shoulder and his knee.”

  “Then I’ll look around in town for someone hobbling.”

  Tawny-Lynn laughed softly, and Chaz stroked her back with slow circles. “I’m sorry this happened, Tawny-Lynn.” He pushed a strand of hair away from her cheek. “Sorry I wasn’t here to protect you.”

  Tawny-Lynn laid her hand on his chest. His heart was racing, but he felt so strong beneath her that she felt his warmth seep into her, comforting.

  “Thanks for coming.”

  Chaz squared his shoulders. “It’s my job to protect the town.”

  So she was just a job to him? A way to find out what happened to Ruth...

  She had to remember that.

  She started to pull away, but he held her tight. “Wait, Tawny-Lynn, I didn’t mean it like that.”

  Her gaze met his, tension rippling between them. “I understand, Chaz. I know I let everyone down.”

  “No, your father and everyone in the town let you down.” He traced a finger along her jaw. “I let you down back then.”

  Tawny-Lynn’s chest squeezed. “Chaz...”

  “I promise I won’t let you down now, though.”

  Tawny-Lynn couldn’t remember when she’d had anyone to lean on. Anyone who cared about her.

  But she couldn’t lean on him. Could she?

  Then he cupped her face between his hands, lowered his head and closed his mouth over hers. And she forgot about reservations and gave in to the moment.

  * * *

  CHAZ PRESSED HIS lips to Tawny-Lynn’s mouth, his body hardening with arousal as she clung to him. He hadn’t realized how much he wanted to protect her until he’d heard her terrified voice on the phone.

  Or how much he wanted to be with her until he’d looked into those sea-green eyes.

  Her soft whispered sigh urged him to deepen the kiss, and he flicked his tongue against her lips, coaxing them to open. He drove his tongue inside, tasting her, teasing her, aching for more.

  He pulled her tighter against him, one hand going to her back to massage the tension from her shoulders. She raked a hand across his chest, sending fiery sensations through him that intensified his need.

  Hunger and desire heated his blood, and he eased her back into the bedroom. But they nearly stumbled over the fire poker, reminding him of the reason he’d raced to her house like a madman.

  Silently chiding himself, he looped his arms around her waist and ended the kiss. But he missed her already as she pulled back and looked up at him.

  “Chaz?”

  “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.”

  “Why not?” Tawny-Lynn whispered. “Because of who I am?”

  He shook his head. “No, because of who I am.” Self-disgust underscored his tone. “I’m supposed to protect you, not take advantage of you.”

  “You didn’t take advantage of me,” she said softly.

  He fisted his hands by his sides, desperately wanting to draw her back into his embrace.
To kiss her and give her pleasure and alleviate the tormented look in her eyes,

  But the only way to do the latter was to find out who’d tried to kill her.

  And getting to the bottom of the cold case that had haunted Camden Crossing for seven years was the key to it.

  “I should look for forensic evidence,” he said. “Fingerprints.”

  “He wore gloves,” she said, her finger automatically rubbing the bruise forming on her slender throat.

  “Okay, but maybe he left fibers from his clothing, a hair, something that will help nail him when we catch him.” He gestured around the room. “Was he in here?”

  “No, he attacked me downstairs.”

  “He climbed in through a window in your father’s room?”

  She released a weary sigh. “I opened it earlier to air out the room when I was cleaning. I was so exhausted I forgot to close it when I went to bed.”

  “Don’t beat yourself up over it,” Chaz said. “If he wanted to get in, he would have found another way.”

  She nodded in acceptance, then tightened the belt around her robe.

  “Let me get my kit and camera. I want to take pictures of your neck and the crime scene, then I’ll do a search.”

  “I’ll meet you downstairs.”

  He hated to leave her for a second but duty called. So he jogged down the steps and retrieved his crime kit and camera.

  Anger mounted as he tilted Tawny-Lynn’s head backward and photographed the bruises on her neck. The imprint of a man’s fingerprints discolored her skin. Only Tawny-Lynn said he’d worn gloves.

  Still, they might be able to compare the sizes of the prints, so he took some close-up shots. Tawny-Lynn watched silently as he searched the room for forensics.

  “You cleaned earlier?” Chaz asked.

  She nodded.

  He plucked a tiny black thread off the floor. “Then this must be from the intruder. I’ll have the lab analyze it.”

  “It probably came off his ski cap.”

  “Maybe we can trace what kind of cap it is, where he bought it.” It was a long shot, but he had to try it.