by D. K. Hood
“Yes, ma’am. So tearing him a new asshole is out of the question?” Kane’s eyes twinkled with amusement.
Rowley’s eyes widened so big Jenna thought they might fall out and bounce around the floor. With great difficulty, she bit back a grin and cleared her throat. “If we discover he is the one who threatened me in the bushes, I might be tempted to do that myself.”
Forty-Four
Kane folded his fingers behind his head and leaned back in the chair, making it moan in protest. He stared at the ceiling, noting the cobwebs, then turned his attention back to Rowley. “I want to speak to Miss Hartwig. It would be an idea to have her here when Rockford arrives.” He dropped his hands and cleared his throat. “Can you pick her up on your way back from lunch?”
“Okay.” Rowley’s cellphone signaled a message and his young brow wrinkled as he stared at the screen for some moments. “The paint analysis from the accident came back as from a 1977 Ford pickup. I already cross-checked all the DMV listings for a blue Ford pickup with local owners. Out of the hundreds in the area, only five fit the model you witnessed. I checked if the owners had rap sheets and found two with misdemeanors listed. The other owners include two men in their eighties and a woman in her seventies. I discounted them, which leaves Davis and Mayor Rockford.” He shrugged. “I can’t say I’ve seen the mayor driving an old pickup so I gather it’s somewhere on his farm.”
Kane snorted. “So is it the mayor or Davis who has the rap sheet?”
“Davis.” Rowley paled. “He beat on his wife.”
“When did this happen?”
“Ten years ago.” Rowley narrowed his gaze. “She dropped the charges.”
Kane had seen too many cases where men had lost control and beaten their wives to death. “I see.” He recalled seeing a light-colored late-model SUV parked in the driveway of the real estate office. “He drives a Dodge SUV, doesn’t he? Does the Ford pickup have current registration?”
“Yeah, and I’ve seen him drive the old pickup but not for at least six months.” Rowley raised an eyebrow. “The sheriff is heading over to speak with Davis after lunch. If we can catch her before she leaves Aunt Betty’s, she can ask Davis about his pickup while she’s there.”
The hairs on Kane’s neck stood on end at the idea of Jenna walking into the real estate office without this vital information. The casual way Rowley had informed him gave him the impression he did not consider John Davis a threat. He glared at him and Rowley’s ears pinked at the tips. “Davis is a suspect. We believe he has a connection to the victims and he owns a blue pickup. We must consider him a person of interest with two strikes against him. I’ll give Alton a call and bring her up to speed.” He reached inside his jacket pocket for his cellphone and cleared his throat. “Is there anything else I should know?”
“No, but I’ve been wondering if you think it would be worthwhile checking if Sarah was on Facebook or Instagram.” Rowley pushed a hand through his hair. “People on social media enjoy telling the world what they’re doing, who they’re seeing, and the like. What if she met someone, or discussed her plans online?”
“Good idea.” Kane smiled at him. “Check all the image files. If Sarah took selfies, she might have posted them. It would be interesting to see who else she met in town.”
Rowley gave him a curt nod and headed for his booth. Kane called Alton to apprise her of the recent developments. “You may be interviewing the person who tried to kill you. I think I should tag along just to be safe.”
“I’m outside the real estate office now. It’s the middle of the day, the streets are busy, and I’m armed.” Alton chuckled. “If you prefer, I’ll make some excuse to see his vehicle and speak to him outside. I’m sure I’m more than capable of handling John Davis.”
He rubbed his chin, scratching the stubble. If Alton had received training in special ops or the secret service as he envisaged, she should be able handle most men with one hand tied behind her back, but it had not helped her in the bushes behind the Cattleman’s Hotel. Like it or not, she was vulnerable and he had proved as much during the couple of morning workouts they had manage to squeeze into their hectic schedule. He had decided to show her a few moves and bring her hand-to-hand combat skills back up to scratch. Her insistence he treat her as “one of the boys” rang in his memory and he pushed down his concern. He had become close to Jenna in the short time he had known her, and his protective side had rushed to the front. Pushing words out between clenched teeth, he capitulated. “Okay, but I’d appreciate a hand with the Susie Hartwig interview.”
Peals of laughter came down the earpiece. “If you’re worried about her hitting on you again, ask one of the deputies to sit in on the interview.”
“Walters and Daniels aren’t back yet and when Rowley gets back from lunch, he is searching social media for leads.” Kane cleared his throat. “If you’re not here by the time she arrives, I guess I’ll struggle through on my own.”
“It must be a bitch, being so darn handsome.” Alton snorted with mirth in his ear. “Catch you later.”
Kane stared at the “call ended” message on his cellphone and pushed to his feet. She believes I’m frightened of women. I’ll have to put that assumption to rest. Miffed by the nudge at his manhood, he decided to tackle Susie Hartwig head on.
He poked his head into Rowley’s booth. “I’m going to lunch now. You’ll have to wait until I get back. While I’m at Aunt Betty’s, I’ll ask Miss Hartwig to come in for questioning at one thirty. If Daniels and Walters return from their purse-seeking mission, keep them here until I return. You’re in charge.” He snatched his coat from the peg near the door and stepped out into the arctic wind. A smile curled his lips as he thought about Alton’s comment.
Shrugging into his coat, he decided to walk to Aunt Betty’s Café. Black Rock Falls hummed with people going about their daily lives. He made off toward Aunt Betty’s at a brisk walk.
After ordering a bowl of chili, apple pie, and coffee, he leaned back in his seat to observe the locals. From the waves and smiles, it seemed everyone had accepted him as part of the community. When Susie Hartwig sashayed back to his table with his food, he offered her a smile. “Thank you. I must say, Black Rock Falls is a friendly town. Everyone knows me already.”
“Oh, that’s because I added you to the newcomers’ wall.” Susie jerked a thumb over one shoulder. “It’s part of our service to the community. We place the photographs of all new council members and cops on the wall.”
“I see.” Kane narrowed his gaze, wondering where she had obtained his image. “On a different matter, would you be able to drop into the station at one thirty? I’d like to speak to you about Josh Rockford.”
“I can tell you everything you need to know.” Susie pushed a lock of hair from her face. “I’m not going out with him. It was just dinner.”
Kane shrugged in an effort to appear nonchalant. “Due to a current case, we’re making routine enquiries to eliminate people from our investigation. Speaking to Deputy Rowley or me off the record is hearsay. I’ll need you to come in and make a statement. Half an hour of your time is all I’ll need.” He offered her a smile. “Will I see you at one thirty?”
“Sure. I’ll get someone to cover for me.” She returned his smile. “Do you want me to bring coffee, cakes?”
“Yeah, that would be great; make that five flat whites and a box of mixed pastries.” He lifted his fork, willing her to leave. “Just add it to my tab.”
“See you later.” Susie batted her eyelashes at him then strolled away with an exaggerated swing of her hips.
The exchange had caught the attention of the diners at the other tables. Kane snapped his gaze to his plate and rubbed his temple, hoping they had not assumed he had tried to hit on a girl half his age. Perhaps he should ask Jenna to interview Susie. Jenna’s grinning face flashed though his mind. No, if he backed out of doing the interview, he would not live it down. Avoiding eye contact with the other diners, he finished his meal and dr
opped notes on the table. As he stood, he caught sight of Deputy Daniels strolling along the street in his direction with a plastic evidence bag swinging from one hand.
He headed for the door and waited for Daniels to reach him. “What have you found?”
“Sarah Woodward’s purse. Her ID is inside but no cellphone.” Daniels held up the bag and frowned. “The keys for the SUV she was driving are inside but the motel key is missing.”
Kane reached for the evidence bag and peered at the contents through the bag. “Where exactly did you find it? Did you take photographs?”
“Oh yeah, I took pictures.” Daniels gave him an unreadable look. “Maybe I should discuss this with the sheriff back at the office?”
“Sure.” Kane glanced around; no one was in earshot yet Daniels was acting uncharacteristically cautious. “Get Rowley to go with you and drop it through the evidence chute.” He handed him the bag. “The sheriff should be back soon and we’ll log it together. Did you inform Walters?”
“Yeah, just before.” Daniels gave him a sideways glance. “He is on his way.” He strode along the sidewalk, eyes front and his mouth in a grim line. “I found out where Stan Clough is living too.”
Kane fell in step beside him. Yet you didn’t call me. Why?
Forty-Five
Jenna smiled at two elderly women wrapped up so well against the cold only rosy cheeks and eyes peeked out from beneath their hoods. “Afternoon, ladies.”
She made her way around a pile of gray, refrozen slush with leaves and sticks standing out in all directions and headed toward the real estate office. She could see John Davis sitting behind the desk out front, staring at a computer screen. She pushed open the door and almost gagged at the stink of stale sweat laced with cigar smoke. How anyone conducted business with him without a gas mask, she could not imagine. She stood in the entrance, holding the door open with her foot. “Mr. Davis. Do you have a minute? I have a few questions for you.”
“Yes, but close the door. You’re letting the heat out.” John Davis took a drag of his cigar and, tipping back his head, puffed out a stream of smoke rings.
Kane’s warning flashed across her mind and she paused. “Would you mind coming outside? I have a problem with cigar smoke.”
“Oh, very well.” Obviously annoyed, he pushed slowly to his feet. “I’ll grab my coat.”
She stepped away from the door and waited for him under the shop awning. He walked toward her and the smell clung to him, tainting the crisp winter air. “Sorry to drag you outside in the cold.”
“What can I do for you?” Davis stamped his feet on the icy ground. “I already gave the Woodward girl all the information I had on her grandmother and dropped in the list of properties that interested her to the front desk of your office. I don’t know anything else.”
Jenna removed one glove then reached into her pocket for her notepad and slid the pen from the side attachment. “Can you tell me your whereabouts on Friday night during the hours of eleven and one?”
“In bed asleep.” He huffed out a cloud of steam. “I went to bed about ten thirty. You can ask the wife.”
“What about Monday morning?”
“I came into work to meet a client at eight, took them to view the apartment beside the bank here in town. We went to Aunt Betty’s for a snack and stayed there until about ten, I believe. It’s nice and warm in the restaurant and, like you, the client has a problem with cigars. I took all the paperwork with me and we did the deal in the café.” He frowned. “Plenty of people saw me there, why?”
“Just routine enquiries.” She indicated with her chin toward the cream SUV in the driveway. “That your only vehicle?”
“No, I have an old Ford pickup back at the ranch.” Davis raised both eyebrows. “I use it to collect the chicken feed from town once in a while. I don’t like stinking up my SUV in case I have to drive clients around to properties.”
Maybe give up smoking cigars would help as well. “When did you last drive the vehicle to town?”
Davis had a look of surprise rather than the expression of someone caught in the act of a crime.
“Last day of the month.” He scratched his chin and eyed her with curiosity. “You can speak to old Mr. Todd at the produce store. I pick up my order same time every month. Is there a reason you want to know about my old car?”
“Like I said, it’s just routine enquiries.” Jenna smiled at him. “Does anyone else have access to the vehicle?”
“No, my wife doesn’t drive.” He rubbed his chin and gave her a worried look.
“Would you mind if I send an officer to take some photographs, to eliminate it from our investigation?”
“Not at all. I’ll call my wife and tell her to expect you.” He pulled his coat closer around his rotund body. “Did the Woodward girl have any luck finding her grandmother? She said she’d drop by and let me know.”
Seeing a natural way into questioning him about the information he had given Sarah, Jenna shook her head. “I haven’t spoken to her since Saturday. Did you point her in any particular direction?”
“Well, Mrs. Woodward didn’t want a big place but she had the money to make an older home comfortable. There are only a few on my books but I do remember suggesting the Old Mitcham Ranch because the owners have kept up the running of the place. It has water and it only needs reconnection to the grid.”
She blew out her breath in a cloud of steam. “It’s a shame you didn’t remember about Mrs. Woodward’s interest in the Old Mitcham Ranch the last time we spoke to you.”
“I remembered her face but it wasn’t until I read over the list of properties and my attached notes I recalled our conversation.” His brows knitted. “Old age plays havoc with memory. Days turn into years, it’s hard to keep track.”
“I believe you sold Stan Clough’s old property before he went to jail?”
“Yeah, he needed the money to pay his lawyer.” Davis’s expression became closed and defensive. “I can’t give you details. I believe there are privacy laws concerning any type of deals.”
“You sold him a new property when he got out of jail as well, didn’t you?” Jenna shot him a hard glance. “I don’t want to know the cash details of the deal but you must know I only have to go to the Lands Records Office to find out who owns what property. Do you know it would be a violation of his parole if I don’t know his current address? You wouldn’t want me to have to arrest him again, would you?”
“Okay, okay.” Davis gave her a beaten look. “I sold him a piggery. He wanted something isolated. After what happened, he isn’t too social. The property runs close to the border of the Daniels’ ranch on Rocky Mile Road, and before you ask, yes, there are a couple of properties in that area on the list I gave Miss Woodward.”
Another thought percolated into her mind. “Just one more thing. Did you mention who owned the Old Mitcham Ranch to Miss Woodward?”
“The owners’ names and contact details of all the properties are on the list I gave her—and you.”
Had Sarah called someone before her death? She nodded, pushing down her annoyance. “Of course, thank you for sending the list to my office.” She pushed on. “When was the last time you spoke to Stan Clough, or noticed him in town?”
“That would be Monday. He doesn’t have cellphone reception out there and no landline as yet but he does come into town to pick up supplies.” Davis paled slightly. “I noticed him waiting out the front of Miller’s Garage by the gas pumps. He was probably waiting for the store to open so he could fill his pickup.”
“You are sure you saw Mr. Clough before eight on Monday morning?”
“I’m sure. Like I told you before, I had to meet a client here at eight and I noticed Miller’s Garage didn’t have the lights on the pumps.” Davis gave her an annoyed glare. “They never open before eight in winter.” He gave her a pained expression. “Is that all?”
She closed the notebook and slid the pen into its holder. “Okay, that’s all I need. Thank you.�
��
“Any time.”
A shudder of horror gripped her at the kaleidoscope of brutal images running through her mind. The idea of Clough murdering Sarah slid firmly into place. Holy cow. Davis placed Stan Clough in the same place and about the same time as Sarah dropped her car into the garage for a service. Stan Clough, the sadistic animal killer, could have overheard her plans for the day and followed her. I have to tell Kane.
Forty-Six
Kane sat opposite Susie Hartwig with Deputy Rowley taking notes in a seat beside him. Not that being alone with the girl worried him, but the way she smiled at him brought the interview under the gaze of everyone in the office. No doubt, Susie had told all and sundry he had asked her to drop by the station.
After she had made a big production of delivering the coffee personally to each deputy and Maggie, she raised one penciled eyebrow. “You didn’t order one for the sheriff. Maybe it was an oversight or are you two not getting along? I noticed you both ate alone today.”
Kane avoided her intent gaze and moved his attention to the arrival of Josh Rockford and a man he assumed was his lawyer, James Stone. When Josh elbowed his companion and indicated toward Susie Hartwig, he bit back a smile. Rockford would be wondering if his alibi would cover for him. Jumpy did not come close to Rockford’s demeanor. Observing Susie Hartwig’s interview while he cooled his heels in the waiting area would be driving him nuts.
“I asked if you got along with the sheriff.” Susie gave him an indignant glare.
“We’re getting along just fine. Take a seat and we’ll get on with the interview so you can get back to work.”
“Sure.” Susie unbuttoned her coat and sat down, crossing her long legs. “Is this about Josh? I told Jake everything I know.”
Kane cleared his throat. “Tell me. Start with Friday night.” He opened his notepad and looked at her.
“Josh dropped by after training, asked me to dinner. After working all day, I really wanted to go home, then he gave me those puppy dog eyes and I agreed.” Susie let out a long sigh. “We had dinner and later went to his place. Not his daddy’s house, his apartment in town. I went home about eleven.”
