by D. K. Hood
“No worries, boss.”
Kane returned to Rowley’s desk and sat down beside him. Daniels’ overfamiliar arrogance with Sarah Woodward disturbed him but he would soon bring him into line. He took a deep breath and reached for his coffee then blew across the steaming liquid, glad his head had stopped pounding. “When did you last hit the practice range?” He swallowed a mouthful of the rich brew and sighed.
“Sheriff Alton takes us down once a month, so two weeks ago. She is one tough lady and runs this place like boot camp.” Rowley tapped away at his computer keyboard then lifted his brown gaze to him. “I’ve entered notes of Miss Woodward’s interview into her file. If you don’t need me for a while, I usually take the first lunch break.”
“I’ll come with you. Walters is still making a list of pickups in the area so I might as well take a break now too. We can take my car, but before we eat I’d like to speak to the real estate agent before he leaves for the day.” Kane drained the cup and stood. “So far, he is the last person to have contact with a missing person. Do you have a photograph of Mrs. Woodward on your cellphone?”
“Yeah, I do. We have been searching for her. I printed up some flyers and showed them to the local ranchers without much luck.” Rowley signed out of his computer and jumped enthusiastically to his feet. “What’s your angle?”
“Right now, we’re assuming Mrs. Woodward spoke to the local real estate broker about properties. We’ll need to interview everyone Woodward came into contact with before her disappearance.” Kane grabbed his windbreaker from a hook by the door then led the way outside to his vehicle. “I’m an observer of people’s reactions, and showing the real estate guy a photograph of our missing person might trigger a repressed memory.”
“And you’ll pick up if he’s hiding something.” Rowley shrugged into his coat and followed. “Would you consider him a suspect, as he appears to be the last person to see Mrs. Woodward?”
“Maybe, but for now all we have is a missing person not a victim of foul play.” Kane shivered and pressed the button on his key fob to unlock the car. “Does it ever stop snowing here?”
“Not at this time of the year.” Rowley nimbly sidestepped a couple of kids, rounded the hood, then slid onto the passenger seat. He fastened his seat belt then pulled on his gloves. “The snow hangs around until April sometimes.”
Kane recalled passing the real estate office on the way into Black Rock Falls. The snow had eased a little but the wipers labored under the drift on the windshield. He waited for a break in the traffic and headed downtown. His mind moved between the cases Jenna had outlined: two people missing without a trace was unusual in a small town. An attack on a sheriff even more bizarre. Spotting the real estate office on the left, picturesque with its roof heavy with snow and icicles hanging from tree branches, he pulled into the small parking lot outside. He stared at the frost-obscured photos of properties for sale and rent. Who looks at properties in this kind of weather? “Let me do the talking. You take notes as necessary and bring up the photograph on your cellphone.”
“Sure. Can I ask a question?” Rowley turned in his seat then continued at Kane’s nod. “How do you keep all the cases in your head? You seem to jump from one to another without so much as checking your notes.”
Kane pulled his woolen cap over his ears. “I treat the cases like TV programs. I’m sure you watch many different series in one night and you can remember what happened in the last episode, right? It’s the same thing only these are real people, so instead of waiting until next week’s thrilling episode, I need to know what has happened right away.”
“I think I’m going to need my notes; one mistake and the sheriff will have me by the balls.” Rowley grimaced then took out his notepad and pen. “Ready?”
“Oh, yeah.” Kane slid from the car and an arctic blast hit his face. He walked around a woman carrying a kid with a snotty red nose and headed for the door. I’m crazy to take this job. I don’t need the money. I should be at home, reading a book, in front of a fire.
The bell on the door clanged their arrival and Mr. Davis emerged from the back room holding a steaming mug.
“What can I do for you, Deputies?” His eyebrows rose in question and the hand placing the cup on the desk trembled a little.
Kane looked down at him and caught a whiff of brandy drifting from the beverage. “Mr. Davis? I’m Deputy Sheriff Kane. I’m aware you have an appointment soon but I need to ask you a few questions.”
“Okay, the clients are due at noon, so I do have a little time to spare.” David dropped carefully into the office chair behind his desk as if in pain. “Please take a seat. Looking up at you makes my neck ache.”
“Sure.” Kane sat down on an exceedingly uncomfortable wooden chair, unearthing unpleasant memories of sitting in a principal’s office. He pushed the image from his mind and gathered his thoughts. “I’m investigating the disappearance of Mrs. Samantha Woodward.”
“I’ve told Deputy Rowley everything I remember about her and I haven’t had time to go through my files for a list of the properties.” Davis rolled his eyes to the ceiling as if seeking divine intervention. “It takes time and I’ll get them to you as soon as possible.”
“I understand and appreciate your help.” Kane smiled in an effort to relax the man but from the beads of sweat forming on his brow, it had not worked. “I thought seeing a photo of Mrs. Woodward might jog your memory.”
“Here, take a look.” Rowley held out his cellphone. “Do you remember meeting her?”
Davis leaned across the desk and squinted at the image, then flicked a concerned gaze in Kane’s direction.
“I have a lot of people dropping by asking about properties.” He slumped back in his chair and sighed. “I do remember one woman who mentioned selling her home and wanting to retire here. She wasn’t looking for a big place, just something she and her family could manage alone.”
Kane straightened. “That’s a good start. Do you remember discussing any particular property with her?”
“Vaguely. We would likely have discussed suitable properties and arranged an appointment for a viewing but I have no recollection of taking an elderly woman to view ranches.” He drummed his fingers on the desk. “None at all.”
“Did she mention anything about where she was staying?”
“I really don’t remember.” He spread his hands. “Really, Deputy, I can’t tell you what I don’t know.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I feel like I’m being harassed. This is the second time you’ve spoken to me in less than an hour, and a young woman came by asking the same questions. She showed me her ID and insisted I tell her where I sent her grandmother. I’m giving you the same answer. The moment I can go through the old listings, I’ll send them to you, but right now I have to get ready to leave.”
Looks like Miss Woodward is still doing a little investigating of her own. Kane pushed to his feet. “No harassment intended. You must appreciate we have to follow leads, and if you supply me with a list of the properties as soon as possible, we can do our job.” He took a card from his wallet and placed it on the table. “Thank you for your time.” He led the way out the door with Rowley close behind.
“Now can we eat?” Rowley rubbed the end of his red nose.
“Oh, yeah.”
* * *
Consumed by the sheer delight of Aunt Betty’s chili, all thoughts of the Woodward case slid into oblivion. When Rowley cleared his throat, Kane’s brain snapped back into action. He pushed the empty plate away and reached for his coffee. “That has to be the best bowl of chili ever.” He grinned at Rowley.
“I agree.” Rowley appeared uncomfortable and moved the saltcellar around the red and white checkered tablecloth like a chess piece. “Ah, the paperwork for a transaction check on Mrs. Woodward’s credit cards hasn’t been started yet. I don’t have her cellphone number either.” His cheeks flushed. “I thought you should know.”
Kane’s respect of Rowley multiplied tenfold. He apprec
iated professionalism and honesty. He leaned back in his chair and met his troubled gaze. “I spoke to Sheriff Alton this morning about Mrs. Woodward. Her granddaughter insists she was old-school and didn’t own a cellphone; she wrote letters. We know she banked money in town and picked up her mail.” He sipped his coffee, eyeing the relief spreading across Rowley’s expression. “She gives the impression of a woman who uses cash rather than a card, but as we know she has an account at the local bank, it would be prudent to file the paperwork for access to her records.” He gave him a nod of approval. “I appreciate your candidness. Giving me this information means we cover every angle of Mrs. Woodward’s case.”
“Thank you, sir.” Rowley let out a long sigh. “I’ll get on it first thing Monday morning.”
“No, I need this information now. Daniels should have the documents ready to file for the Helms case by the time we get back to the office. It won’t take you long to do the same for Mrs. Woodward. We have probable cause for court orders and warrants for both cases. All I need is a judge. When we get back to the office, I’ll sign the paperwork and you’ll have to interrupt the local judge’s weekend. I’ll need permission to do a search ASAP.” He finished his coffee and placed the cup on the table.
“I’ll get on to it right away.” Rowley frowned. “I can’t believe anyone would try to kill Sheriff Alton. She is well respected in town.”
“I’m very concerned about Sheriff Alton’s safety and if we’re going to find the maniac that ran her off the road, I’ll need everything you can remember about her cases over the last month or so.” He noticed a flush spreading over Rowley’s cheeks and smiled to reassure him. “Sometimes it’s the little things, the word on the street and the attitude toward her. People hold grudges for stupid reasons and the accident could have been an opportunistic pay-back.”
“There’s been nothing apart from the arrest of Josh Rockford and Dan Beal. They resisted arrest and Rockford had a few words to say to the sheriff. He is a real jerk and when she rejected his womanizing, he started to push his status as the mayor’s son.” Rowley smiled. “The sheriff had him up against the cruiser and handcuffed before he knew what had hit him.” He chuckled and his eyes sparkled. “When she patted him down, he made the usual smart remarks about giving her an excuse to touch him on purpose.”
Smart-ass. Kane raised a brow. “What did she do?”
“She threatened to call in a doctor to give him an internal examination, said he must be on drugs and carrying if he believed she was interested in him.” Rowley’s mouth spread into a wide grin and he refilled his coffee cup from the pot on the table. “If that happened, his teammates wouldn’t let him live it down. He is the captain of the Larks hockey team and it’s a respect issue. You should have seen the look he gave her—annoyed doesn’t come close.”
Motive enough to run her off the road, if he wanted to put her in her place. “I see. I’m going to pull up all the information you have on Josh Rockford and Dan Beal. When Sheriff Alton released them on Friday, did anything unusual happen? Words exchanged, threats made?”
“Oh yeah, pissed with her to the max. She refused to release them before ten.” Rowley dug a spoon into a plate of golden-crust apple pie à la mode. “They complained, saying they had to be at the stadium by eight or their coach would skin them alive.”
Kane shook his head. “I expect they had some explaining to do. In my day, arriving late would mean a season on the bench. It would seem being the mayor’s son has benefits after all.” He met Rowley’s amused gaze. “The sheriff mentioned the home game is this weekend.”
“Tonight.” Rowley grinned. “I’m looking forward to going.”
“Anything else unusual happen of late? What about during the door-to-door you did for Mrs. Woodward?”
“Nothing came up during my investigations. You’ll have to ask Daniels about the visits he made with Sheriff Alton to the ranches last week.” Rowley shrugged and glanced down, his dark lashes hiding his expression. “He hasn’t mentioned anything unusual and he loves to gossip.”
Susie, the waitress, sauntered up to the table with a paper sack and handed it to Kane.
“One slice of apple pie to go.” She gave him a long look and pouted her red lips, as if trying to gain his interest. “Is there anything else I can do for you, Deputy Kane?”
He dropped the bag on the table and smiled. “No, thank you. I would like to stay and try every item on the menu but we have to get back to the office.”
“Well then, enjoy the pie.” She turned and sashayed away.
The corner of Rowley’s mouth twitched.
“I guess she’s looking for a date for the dance tonight.” He grinned. “She’s sure taken a shine to you, sir.”
Note to self. Don’t ever come here alone. Kane stood, dropped notes on the table, and grabbed the pie. “Not one chance in hell.” He could see Susie out of the corner of his eye, twisting a lock of hair around one finger and wetting her lips in invitation. You are way too young for me.
Rowley gave him an appraising stare. “Don’t you like girls?”
Kane shook his head. “Nope. At the grand old age of thirty-five, I prefer women over twenty-one.” He strode toward the door, keeping his gaze anywhere but in Susie’s direction.
Eleven
Jenna threw more logs on the fire and stared at the sparks rising in the funnel of smoke and disappearing up the chimney. The recent call from Deputy Walters had her head spinning. Her new deputy sheriff had thrown his weight around the moment she had left and had her deputies working flat-out all day. In two minds about the idea of having a powerful deputy in charge in her absence, she considered the pros and cons. Having a deputy sheriff with considerable experience would mean the workload would lessen, but she would need to make it clear who was in charge. Countermanding her orders without consultation would be something she would have to speak to him about, and soon. Kane had canceled the twice-daily patrols she scheduled during the Larks home-game weekends to ensure the visitors pouring into town noticed a strong police presence. The hockey game came with a bunch of out-of-town troublemakers attending the match and her department was understaffed. Her deputies would have to pull double shifts tonight, although it did not take any persuasion to ask Rowley and Daniels to watch the game in uniform.
The after-match dance organized by the mayor at the town hall went off without a hitch most times with Deputy Walters stationed on the door. Her problem would be the men crowding into the Cattleman’s Hotel to drink after the game. Around closing time, she would have to count on Rowley to help her keep order because inebriated men often refused to take direction from the fresh-faced Daniels.
She dashed a hand through her hair and her mind slid to Kane. He would have my back, I’m sure of it. His solid presence by her side would make an impression on the crowd but how could she ask him to assist her? He would be exhausted after pulling a long shift with little or no sleep. She chewed on what was left of her fingernails, forcing her mind out of panic mode and into a modicum of order. The attempt on her life had unnerved her, and going back out there was wreaking havoc with her nerves.
If one of Viktor Carlos’s men found her out on the street, she might as well paint a target on her back. She doubted the locals would lift a finger to help her, not after the previous home-game debacle. After making a point of using diplomacy in disputes, she had pulled her weapon to keep control during an argument between two rival crowds of supporters in the Cattleman’s Hotel parking lot. In the end, Rowley and Daniels had pulled their nightsticks to gain control. The move caused an outcry of police brutality. It’s not as if I discharged my gun.
The buzz of the alarm on the front entrance broke into her thoughts. She moved down the hallway and peered at the bank of screens in her office. The sight of a black SUV with tinted windows had her reaching in the desk drawer for her backup weapon. The vehicle moved toward the house then veered off and slid into Kane’s garage. I’m an idiot. I should have recognized his car. Sh
e pressed one hand to her pounding heart and caught sight of her reflection in one of the blank flat-screens. Special Agent Avril Parker no longer existed, and in her place stood a younger, more vibrant person.
She had worked hard to perfect her new body. Six months of grueling exercises to change her body shape. After reconstructive surgery, her new face had a straight nose and fuller lips, and the fine wrinkles she hated had disappeared. The cosmetic surgeon had insisted on the addition of fake breasts and had somehow made her eyes appear wider. She wore a new hairstyle and now her own mother would not recognize her. She had turned thirty-two on her last birthday but the face looking back at her appeared ten years younger. Her commander’s voice drifted through her mind.
You’ll be safe. A new identity, a new face, and hiding in plain sight works. Don’t worry. Enjoy your life.
Don’t worry. What a load of horseshit, as if she could trust every man in her department. No matter how high up, people had their price. Her attention moved back to the screens to see David Kane trudging through the snow toward her house. She slipped the gun back into the desk drawer and moved down the hallway to greet him at the front door.
“Hey.”
He kicked the snow from his size fourteen boots and lifted his blue gaze to her. “Mind if I come in? I have a few things to discuss with you about the current caseload.”
Jenna tried to stop the frown without success. “I hold a meeting every morning to keep my officers informed and delegate tasks.”
“I’m sure you do, but as I took charge of the office today, at the moment you’re out of the loop.” Kane’s blue eyes held her gaze. “I’ve made significant progress today.”
I somehow knew you would. She stepped to one side. “Of course. Come in. How was your first day?”
He stared at her as if she had asked him the size of his penis, then he raised a dark eyebrow and shrugged. “Fine.”
