Don’t Tell A Soul: A gripping crime thriller that will have you hooked

by D. K. Hood

  “Roger that.”

  Kane stopped mid-step and turned to look at her. He had deliberately added military speak to their conversations over the last few days to validate his suspicions about her. Her reply convinced him she had at least had basic military training. The way she handled herself under threat impressed him and convinced him she had been under fire many times. He shook his head, trying to force his thoughts back to the problem at hand. Sheriff Alton’s past was irrelevant to the current crime wave and he would likely open up an assortment of problems if he persisted. Right now, she was the least of his problems. They had a killer on the loose.

  Using stealth learned over years, he slipped back to his vehicle and backed it along the narrow road through the forest. Once safely parked in the dense undergrowth, he beckoned Alton forward. “Use the tree for cover and watch for the shooter on the hilltop. He is careless. I caught the glint on the rifle, so watch out for anything that sparkles. It won’t take me long to grab the bullet.”

  “Stop treating me like a rookie.” She glared at him and her lips thinned. “It’s not my first day on the job.”

  “Sorry.” He pulled open the rear door of the SUV and opened the case containing a high-powered sniper rifle. In a few seconds, he assembled and loaded the weapon. He handed the gun to Alton. “Go.”

  Kane moved with care toward the fence line, keeping close to the perimeter of the forest, his attention sweeping the top of the hill overlooking the landfill. His boots made no sound and his ears strained to listen for another gunshot. He would have a millisecond to react but he had been in worse situations. Using the trunk of the tree as a shield, he then ran his gloved hand over the damaged bark and felt for the bullet. When his fingers closed around a piece of metal, he could not believe his luck and wiggled the projectile until it fell into his palm. He dragged an evidence bag from his pocket and dropped his prize inside. “Got it.”

  He returned to Alton’s position, waving the baggie, and watched her dismantle the rifle with swift efficiency. She had the weapon stowed away and was inside the vehicle before he climbed into the warmth of the car. His belly growled and Alton let out a snort of laughter. Rubbing his stomach, he chuckled, glad to relieve the tension. “I think I’m ready to visit Aunt Betty’s Café.”

  “Me too.” Alton rubbed her hands together and smiled at him. “Cold weather and assassination attempts make me ravenous.”

  Twenty-Five

  Jenna pushed away her plate. “Eating out with you is making me fat. I’ll need to find time to work out or I’ll be mush by spring.”

  “Is there a gym in town?”

  “No need.” Alton let out a long sigh. “You are welcome to join me unless…”

  Kane shot her a concerned glance. “Unless what?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I guess you don’t work out with your injury. I shouldn’t have asked you, that was very tactless of me.”

  “I work out.” He leaned back in his seat. “Apart from the cold weather giving me headaches, I’m not impaired. I’m sure I’m fit enough to keep up with you.”

  “Oh, I love a challenge.” She grinned at him. “Any time you’re ready, let me know.”

  “I’m a morning man.” A slash of white teeth split his face. “Zero six hundred late enough for you?”

  “Six it is.” She cleared her throat. “Ex-military man, are you? I don’t know many cops who use that terminology, or react so fast in an emergency. Special Forces perhaps?”

  “Let’s make a deal. If I don’t bug you about your past, then you don’t ask me about mine.”

  “Deal.” She turned in her seat. “But lose the military speak, it’s a dead giveaway.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Kane’s companionship over breakfast had settled Jenna’s nerves, and by the time she strode into her office, her knees had stopped shaking. It had been over three years since she had seen any action in the field and although her training had kicked in, hiding the aftershock from Kane had been difficult. She shucked her coat, and after hanging the damp garment on the peg beside the door, she turned to peruse the information on the current cases added to the whiteboard in her office. Nothing of note had happened in the last months; in fact, apart from James Stone pestering her for a date, her life in Black Rock Falls had been an ordered delight. The attack in the shrubbery at the hotel and the morning’s shooting had slammed her back into reality big time. On the landfill back road with Kane by her side, she had allowed herself to become vulnerable, careless. If not for Kane, I’d be dead.

  She glanced out the door, and apart from Mrs. Gilly’s high-pitched voice complaining about her neighbor’s dog for the fourth time this month, the outer office was quiet. If she called a meeting during the lull, Maggie could handle the front counter. She gathered her thoughts, wondering if she should mention the incident at the edge of the forest to her other deputies. If Kane had been correct on his take of the incidents involving her, the suspect must have been in the station to obtain information of her whereabouts. The amateurish attempts on her life both worried and eased her mind because a local idiot she could deal with. If Viktor Carlos had discovered her whereabouts and identity, she would have been in her grave years ago. I’ve been a blind fool. Her fear of Carlos sending an assassin had clouded her judgment and made her believe every threat came from him.

  Perhaps Kane was correct, she had unknowingly witnessed a crime. Although, in her opinion, the incidents had been little more than an attempt to warn her off, but about what? She racked her brain trying to come up with one reason for someone to go to such lengths to frighten her. Returning to her desk, she powered up the computer and scanned the files again, starting from her first week as Black Rock Falls’ sheriff. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened at all but she added details to the list on her notepad of any particular involvement, or problems with people. She stared at the short list, recalling each incident with clarity. No bribes offered, nothing sinister had occurred, no death threats received, and apart from James Stone asking her out to dinner again, the only problem she had encountered of late had come from the mayor’s son, Josh Rockford, and his bunch of untouchables.

  The stars of the local hockey team thought they owned the town. Josh had the protection of the Rockford name and wealth. She had to admit the mayor’s son was an arrogant pig, but bullies rarely had the guts to attempt murder. Although, he could have paid someone to do his dirty work for him? For this reason, his name went to the top of her list along with the other two men, Billy Watts and Dan Beal. The three men had come very close to threatening her when she arrested them. The only problem was the instinctive urge to include James Stone on the list—although he was a pest, had she given him reason to threaten her?

  She recalled with a shudder the strength of the man pressing against her, and the intimate pressing of his thigh. Her attacker could have easily been him. Was he jealous of Kane? If so, she doubted he would try to kill her in a hit-and-run. Hell, at the time of the accident, he would not have even seen Kane let alone discovered he would be living in her cottage. If it was Stone, the two incidents and the shooting had to be separate. I’ll have to bring Rowley into the loop in case anything else happens.

  A knock came on the door and she glanced up to see Deputy Rowley smiling at her.

  “Yes?”

  “It’s quiet at the moment. Do you want me to grab the others for a meeting?” Rowley straightened with one hand resting on the doorknob.

  Jenna nodded. “Yes, but just you and Kane for now, and bring something to take notes. We have a number of cases to investigate.” She lifted her chin. “Did Kane send you the image files from the body in the barrel homicide this morning?”

  “Yeah, nasty business. I’ve printed a couple of images from the files he specified. Do you want me to give them to him? He mentioned they are for my eyes only.”

  “Yes, go and get them but hand them straight to me.” Irritated that Kane had taken charge again, she leaned forward and glared at him.
“In case you are in any doubt who is in charge here, I’m the sheriff, not Kane.”

  “Is there a problem?” Kane’s six five, two hundred pound plus bulk filled the doorway, blocking the light. He flicked a dark blue glance from one to the other. “If you’re referring to the evidence we found at the landfill this morning, I thought it would be better to keep it under wraps as this place is leaking like a sieve.” He moved into the room and shut the door behind him. “Did you tell Rowley about the attempt on your life this morning?”

  Jenna glared at him. “Not yet. Do I have to remind you who is in charge here as well?”

  “I know who is in command but as sheriff’s deputy, I am obliged to not only watch your back but act on your behalf in your absence. I’m just trying to do my job.” Kane’s expression hardened into granite.

  Jenna took in his posture; the agitation flowed off him in waves. From his impressive references, he had held a gold shield in the homicide division in his last job. He was a born leader, and she suspected his cover story offered a minuscule insight into his capabilities. She needed a professional at her side. The fact he had placed his body on the line to protect her during the shooting proved she could trust him. Right now, she needed him onside and had no option but to allow him some slack. “I am fully aware of your position on my team but as sheriff the buck stops here. I have already told you to take the lead on the alleged attempts on my life but I am taking the lead on the murder case. If the two cross over and my involvement in any way causes a conflict of interest, then by all means take the lead. Until then, I am in charge and you will follow my orders. Is that clear?”

  “Crystal clear, ma’am.” Kane’s stance was rigid. He glanced at Rowley. “I want him with me when we conduct interviews. I want to know the whereabouts of any potential suspects at the time of both incidents and I need his local knowledge.”

  “Yes, sir.” Rowley flicked a glance at Alton, and color filled his cheeks. “If that’s okay with you, ma’am?”

  Annoyed, Jenna glared at her deputy. “Of course, but you can worry about that later. The attempt on my life pales in significance with the body in the barrel case. Our first priority is the victim.” She lifted her chin and stared at Rowley then Kane. “Understand?”

  “Yes.” Kane cleared his throat and straightened, dwarfing the smaller man. “If it’s okay with you, I would like to interview Rockford, Watts, and Beal while we’re waiting for the ME’s report.”

  “Very well.” Jenna weighed up the idea of informing Rowley about the incident in the bushes at the Cattleman’s Hotel. The young deputy had proven to be solid, and not informing him might hamper the case. She met Rowley’s gaze. “Before we continue, I need to explain to Rowley why I’ve changed my mind about the accident. At first, I honestly believed my accident was just that, but on Saturday night, a man threatened me on the pathway out back of the Cattleman’s Hotel, then someone took a shot at me this morning and Kane is concerned the incidents might be linked, though I have no evidence or motive to make that assumption.”

  “Saturday night?” Rowley gaped at her, disbelief etched on his face. “May I ask why you didn’t mention it at the time, ma’am? We should at least have searched the area for footprints.”

  Not willing to elaborate on her humiliation, Jenna shook her head. “It would have been a waste of time—at least fifty people used that pathway during the evening. All I have is a general build and height of the man. What he said made no sense at all and was not in relation to any case on file. His size could have fit a number of men I know, including James Stone and Josh Rockford.”

  “This information doesn’t leave this room—understand?” Kane looked down his long straight nose at Rowley.

  “I know when to keep my mouth shut. So our job at the moment is to rule out persons of interest and get the bullet to forensics?” Rowley jotted down a list in his notepad.

  Jenna sighed with relief. “Exactly, then we can concentrate on the murder case.”

  “If it’s alright with you, ma’am, I would like to make the attacks on you a priority at the moment because we can’t move forward with the body in the barrel case.” Kane’s mouth turned down in a grimace. “We have little information on the victim and can’t even confirm the sex let alone consider a motive or suspects.”

  “Right, so it would be pointless interviewing the next of kin of the missing persons we have on file until we know the victim is male?” Rowley chewed on the end of his pen.

  “Yeah, but the fact a murder has taken place and the grisly circumstances will be all over town by now. I doubt the owner of the landfill will be able to keep his mouth shut.” Kane rolled his wide shoulders. “The moment we step outside, locals and no doubt the media will be asking questions.” He grasped the back of one of the chairs in front of the desk and bent forward, staring at Jenna with an intent gaze. “The garrote is a crucial piece of evidence, so is the bangle. If it’s okay with you, I would suggest information only the killer would know doesn’t leave this room.” His knuckles whitened. “Getting back to the attempts on your safety. I’m not taking the shooting lightly and I’m not divulging crucial information to the other deputies about the bullet I retrieved or what I witnessed during the hit-and-run on Friday night.”

  Jenna shot to her feet. “Stand down, Kane. I do know how to run homicide investigations and it will be my choice who I can trust with the information on the attempts on my life, not yours.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Kane let out a long, dejected sigh. “It’s just that Daniels is as green as spring grass and might run off at the mouth. Walters is far too friendly with Mayor Rockford, going on the conversation we had with the mayor on Saturday night. As Josh is one of the suspects on my list in the cases concerning you, may I suggest the evidence be kept confidential?”

  “All excellent points, but next time, run them past me before you discuss them in front of my deputies.” She met his gaze and raised a brow. “Continue investigating the cases involving me but I expect you to keep me in the loop and not run the investigation behind my back. Are we clear?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Kane straightened and his dark eyebrows raised in question. “Would you be open to discussing the evidence we have so far on the body in the barrel case with Rowley?”

  Jenna tapped the end of her pen on the desk. Oh, he’s good. “Very well, take a seat, gentlemen, and let’s get the show on the road.” She stood, picked up a small pile of images from her desk, and walked to the whiteboard. “As Kane said, we have to wait for the autopsy report on the victim at the landfill this morning, and from the decomposition of the body, identification is going to be difficult. When the ME notifies us about the victim’s sex, we can eliminate the obvious by checking the personal effects we collected against our known missing persons’ next of kin. If we have no one on file fitting the description, we’ll send the information to other counties. Discovering the victim’s identity is our first priority.”

  “If the body in the barrel isn’t one of our missing persons, we’ll need to keep moving forward on their investigations as well.” Kane gave her a thin smile, turned the seat to face the whiteboard, and sat down. “I could delegate the workload between Walters and Daniels. Assuming the paperwork has come back for permission to collect Helms’s phone and bank statements. That would leave us free to contact the next of kin.”

  “I agree. Keeping the investigation moving forward is essential.” Jenna placed the photographs of the missing persons, Mrs. Woodward and John Helms, on the board and secured them with magnets, then took the marker from its holder and added their names. “We know the body in the barrel appeared to have dark hair but we don’t know what affect the chemicals or the molasses residue had on the victims’ hair color. In my opinion we shouldn’t dismiss the fact that either of these people could be our body in the barrel. If so, until the M.E. can determine the sex of the victim knowing their movements in the days prior to death will be crucial.”

  Twenty-Six

  J
ust as Jenna thought her day could not get any worse, the phone rang. A knot of anxiety clamped her stomach. It was Mr. Weems with the autopsy report. Listening to the gruesome details of the final moments of murder victims had to be the worst part of her job. “Go ahead, Mr. Weems.”

  “This is only a preliminary report. The victim is male, age at this point undetermined. The body is in an advanced state of chemical decomposition but I’ve determined the cause of death is strangulation as the garrote around the neck cut through to the spine. However, before death the victim suffered horrific torture over a period of time. Bruising is in different stages and a number of the wounds appear to be at least five days old. He has a fractured skull, his back is broken, and his jaw has received considerable damage consistent to a blow by a hammer. I’m not sure about the tattoo. You’ll need to call in the state forensic science team to examine the body. I would like a second opinion on this case.” He let out a long sigh. “I’ve emailed you photographs of the bangle. There are interesting markings on the outside. I can’t read them, and you may need an expert in languages as well.”

  Jenna cleared the lump in her throat. Another time in her life, she would have had a specialized forensics team working with her. “Very well. I’ll contact the necessary people straight away. Thank you.” She dropped the phone into the cradle and turned to face her deputies. “Forget interviewing Rockford and the others for now. We concentrate on finding out if the body is Helms.” She returned to her desk and accessed her email account. A few moments later, both deputies’ phones gave a message signal. “I’ve sent you the images of the bangle from the ME.”

  “At least it’s not Mrs. Woodward.” Rowley bowed his dark head over his cellphone screen.