Lone Wolf Lawman

by Delores Fossen

  Addie stepped around him, careful not to brush against him. It didn’t help. Weston could still feel her in his arms. Could still see images of her naked.

  Yeah, that really didn’t help.

  It also didn’t help that he was following her to her bedroom. He wouldn’t go in the room with her, of course, but he would end up sleeping nearby. With Addie so close that he could remember that mistake of a kiss he’d just made.

  “Jericho’s going to insist on putting me in a safe house, isn’t he?” she asked as they walked up the stairs.

  “Probably. And if he doesn’t, I will. And don’t you dare say it’s safe here, because the bullet holes in your office prove otherwise.”

  That earned him a huff. “Look, I’m not stupid. I want me and my baby to be safe. But I do a lot of things to help keep this ranch running, and I can’t do those things if I’m locked away in a safe house.”

  “It’s not permanent.” Weston hoped.

  She threw open the door to her bedroom and whirled around as if the argument might continue. It didn’t. Addie just stared at him.

  “You were in love with Collette?” she asked.

  Well, that came out of the blue. And he was certain this wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have. Weston settled for a nod.

  “I’m trying to justify in my mind why you did what you did in San Antonio,” Addie clarified.

  “You can’t justify that,” he assured her.

  “But you can.” Those words hung in the air like knives over his head.

  “I owed Collette. And I let her down.” Weston figured that would be enough poking at old wounds tonight.

  Apparently not.

  “You owed her?” Addie’s forehead bunched up. “What does that mean?”

  Weston opened his mouth. Groaned. “It means you should climb into bed and get some rest.”

  As answers went, it sucked, but he was already too raw, too drained to take this bad trip down memory lane.

  She stared at him several moments longer. Waiting for something he wasn’t going to give her. Addie must have finally realized that because she went into her room and shut the door. She even locked it.

  Good.

  He didn’t want her to trust him, and if Collette were still alive, she would agree.

  Weston looked up the hall to make sure Iris’s door was still shut. It was. Addie’s mom had gone there shortly after they’d gotten back from the hospital, and maybe she would stay put until morning. He doubted she’d get much sleep. None of them would. But he didn’t want either Addie or her mom wandering around the house where they could be sniper targets.

  With his back against the wall, Weston eased himself to a sitting position on the floor. No doubt where he’d end up spending the night, but that was okay.

  A penance of sorts.

  He’d been a fool to come here and think he could fix things, that he could make Addie feel safe. Instead, he’d flamed a fire—several of them in fact.

  Weston closed his eyes, praying for a quick nap. Didn’t happen. His phone rang, and he saw Jericho’s name on the screen.

  “Did you find the hired gun?” Weston greeted.

  “Yeah.”

  It wasn’t an answer Weston had been expecting. He figured on getting another dose of bad news. Then, he realized Jericho’s silence probably meant that was still to come.

  “I followed him to the old abandoned hospital outside of town,” Jericho continued. “He drew on me, and I had to kill him.”

  Hell. They needed the guy alive so he could talk. “Did he have any ID?”

  “No, but he had some pictures on him that made it pretty clear who he was targeting.”

  “He was sent to kill Ogden,” Weston concluded, “before he could tell us anything.”

  “No. I wish.” Jericho paused again, then cursed. “His target was Addie.”

  Chapter Seven

  Addie thought a maximum security prison might have fewer safety measures than she had at the moment.

  Weston, Jericho and three deputies. Plus the two PIs and two more armed ranch hands who’d followed Weston and her on the drive from the ranch to the sheriff’s office. They were waiting outside as if they were about to be blasted to smithereens.

  She didn’t mind the protection. Not for her sake but for the baby’s.

  But there was something all of these lawmen weren’t telling her.

  Jax kept dodging her gaze. The other deputies, too. And more than usual, Jericho was scowling along with looking more intimidating. Of course, Jericho didn’t just look intimating.

  He was.

  Yet, Weston seemed to match him in that department.

  Maybe it had something to do with the fact that both had probably gotten very little sleep and were on edge. Jericho had spent the night at the sheriff’s office, and Weston had stayed right outside her door. All night. She should probably be happy that he was showing such an interest in keeping her safe, but having him around was a reminder she didn’t need.

  Like that kiss.

  Her brain was telling her this was a man she shouldn’t trust. Not with her heart anyway. He seemed to be doing a better than average job protecting her body. But that kiss was a reminder to guard her feelings. She wasn’t sure she could survive another to have her heart broken by Weston a second time.

  Worse, she wasn’t sure if he had any immediate plans to leave anytime soon.

  In the wee hours of the morning, he’d had someone deliver several changes of clothes to the ranch. And Weston had moved those things into the guest room across from hers. He’d also had several phone conversations with Jericho. About what, she didn’t know, but Addie was about to find out.

  “You’re hardheaded,” Jericho said to her the moment he finished a phone call. He came out from behind his desk and made a beeline toward her. “You should have stayed at the ranch.”

  “He’s right,” Weston agreed. Probably the only thing Weston and her brother actually agreed about. “There was no need for you to be here for Canales’s and Boggs’s interviews.”

  Oh, yes, there was. Especially for Canales, since the injured shooter had been in phone contact with the campaign manager. Of course, Weston had tried to talk her out of it. He’d failed.

  “Boggs did say he wanted to see you,” Jax volunteered.

  It took Addie a moment to realize he was talking to her. “Me? Why? I don’t know him.”

  Jax lifted his shoulder. “When I asked Boggs to come in for the interview, he wanted to know if you’d be here. I said no, probably not. And he said that was too bad because he wanted to meet you.”

  She hoped this wasn’t another case of someone wanting to meet her because of her biological father. There were some strange people out there with fascinations about serial killers.

  “What time are Canales and Boggs coming in?” Weston asked.

  Jericho checked his watch. “Should be any minute now. After that, I want Addie back at the ranch.”

  Huffing, she got in her brother’s face. “Tell me what’s going on,” Addie said, glancing first at Jericho then Weston.

  Weston and Jericho did some glance-exchanges of their own. “The hit man who showed up at the hospital last night—he was after you.”

  All right. That was a truth that punched her a little harder than expected. Of course, she’d known Ogden had wanted her dead, but now this thug had wanted that, too.

  “You’re sure?” she asked, but immediately waved off the question. They were certain, and it explained all the extra security.

  Jericho led her to his office. The first thing she spotted on his cluttered desk was a photo. A photo of her. It was a grainy shot that looked as if it’d been taken through a long-range lens.

  “Did you know you’d been photographed?” Weston asked.

  She shook her head. Hadn’t had a clue. Which made this even more sickening. How long had this monster been following her? Or maybe it was more than one monster, since the person who’d taken that photo c
ould have given it to the hit man so he’d be sure he was killing the right person.

  Her stomach clenched.

  “We got an ID on the dead guy around midnight,” Jericho continued. “Curtis Nicks. Unlike Ogden, he’s got a record, and the FBI got into his computer. There were more photos of you, but this appears to be the only one he printed out.”

  Because he only needed one.

  But there was something else. She didn’t ask Jericho what that was. Instead, she turned to Weston and motioned for him to continue. “I’m sure in one of those many conversations you had with Jericho, you know everything that’s going on.”

  He made a sound to confirm that but took his time answering. “Nicks has a file on his computer with the address to the ranch and some other notes. The file was new, created just yesterday.” Weston paused, met her eye-to-eye. “If Nicks hadn’t been able to get to you, he planned to use your family to draw you out.”

  “Oh, God.” Her knees buckled, and if Weston hadn’t caught her, she would have fallen. He had her sit in the chair next to Jericho’s desk. “Mom,” she managed to say.

  “I’m sending her to her sister’s place,” Jericho quickly volunteered. Addie’s aunt had two sons, both cops, who lived with her, so that was a good first step.

  “But what about you?” she asked. “And Jax, Chase?”

  “All of us are taking precautions. We’ve even got someone on Teddy while he’s recovering at the hospital. Ditto for Weston’s sister. The Rangers have beefed up security for her, too.”

  Good. Addie didn’t want anyone else hurt. Especially anyone connected to Weston. Her birth father had already cost him enough.

  Jericho’s phone buzzed, and he scowled when he looked at the screen. “I have to take this. Stay with her,” he added to Weston.

  “You heard what your brother said.” Weston pulled up the chair and sat so they were face-to-face. “Everyone’s taking precautions.”

  Addie wasn’t sure that’d be enough. “Is Nicks even connected to the Moonlight Strangler?”

  “He appears to be. He mentions him in his notes. Not by name, just the initials MS.”

  Great. Now the Moonlight Strangler was hiring hit men to come after her.

  “What about Ogden?” she asked. “Is he saying anything?”

  “Not to any of us, but according to Jax, his lawyer was with him most of the night. Not a cheap attorney, either. This guy is top-shelf. Jax is following the money trail to see if anyone’s paying for those round-the-clock legal services.”

  Good. Maybe that would lead to something.

  “So, maybe Ogden wasn’t connected to the other hit man who came to the hospital,” Addie said, thinking out loud.

  “Maybe. But two armed men in the same night probably isn’t a coincidence. That’s why you’ll need to go to a safe house,” Weston added. “The marshals can set one up for you.”

  Twenty-four hours ago, she would have nixed the idea. Not now, though. Because Weston was right.

  She was about to tell Weston to start the arrangements, but Addie got to her feet when she heard voices in the main squad room. She immediately saw Jericho greeting two men. One she recognized from the billboards.

  Alton Boggs.

  He wasn’t a big man, only about five-eight, and he looked more like a 1940s film star than a former rancher. His black hair was slicked back. Teeth perfectly white and straight. His gaze shifted over the room until it landed on her. Only then did he smile, and it wasn’t the sort of welcoming smile, either. It was as if he was trying to reassure her.

  Or something.

  The man with the salt-and-pepper hair who stepped in behind Boggs was at least half a foot taller. No smile for him. His mouth was pulled into what appeared to be a permanent frown. He barely spared her a glance. His attention instead went to Jericho.

  “Sheriff Crockett,” Canales said, the impatience dripping from his voice. “I hope to resolve this fast. Mr. Boggs has a fund-raising luncheon in San Antonio, and we need to get back on the road.”

  Boggs, however, showed no such impatience. He came closer to her, extending his hand for her to shake. “Addie Crockett. Your pictures don’t do you justice.”

  She actually dropped back a step, and Weston moved in between Boggs and her. Only then did Boggs seem to realize he’d made her uncomfortable.

  “Alton Boggs,” he said, extending his hand to Weston.

  “Weston Cade.”

  “Ah, yes, the Texas Ranger,” Boggs provided.

  Weston lifted his eyebrow, questioning how the man knew that.

  “I see I need to explain,” Boggs said. “Is there someplace we can all talk privately?” he asked Weston. “I’d like Addie to hear what I have to say, as well.”

  Jericho didn’t jump to answer, but he finally tipped his head toward the hall and led them into an interview room.

  “There’s no need to get into all of this,” Canales said to his boss. “The sheriff only wants me to explain why that idiot in the hospital called me.”

  “What do you mean by all of this?” Addie asked.

  Boggs drew in a long breath and sank down into one of the chairs. He motioned for her to do the same and didn’t continue until she had. “I’ve been trying to catch the Moonlight Strangler for years, and when I heard about your DNA connection, I’d hoped he would try to contact you. Has he?”

  She groaned. “You’re a groupie?”

  “Hardly. Your father murdered one of my childhood friends, Cora McGee.”

  The name was familiar to Addie, as were all the victims. “Birth father. And I’m sorry.”

  “No need to apologize for anything he did. But you understand now why I was interested in you.”

  Weston and she exchanged uneasy glances. “Convince me why you were really interested.” Weston insisted.

  “You’re obviously a skeptic. That probably comes with the badge. Well, I was interested in you as well since you, too, lost a loved one to the Moonlight Strangler,” Boggs added.

  “How did you know who I was?” Weston asked.

  “I’ve made it a point to know anyone and everyone associated with the case. Clearly, so have you.” Boggs stopped on the last syllable. “Or are you here in Appaloosa Pass because Addie and you are...together?”

  Addie felt the goose bumps shiver over her skin. She had no intention of answering him, but Weston had a different notion.

  “We’re not together, not like that,” Weston snapped.

  Only then did she remember the killer’s threat, that if she and Weston teamed up, he’d murder Weston’s sister. Besides, they really weren’t together.

  And it would be dangerous to both of them if anyone thought they were.

  “The only reason Weston is here,” she said, “is because he wants to catch the Moonlight Strangler, too.”

  Boggs studied them a moment as if trying to figure out if that was true, and he finally nodded. “Of course. I just assumed it because you’re two attractive people. But I can see I was wrong about that.”

  “There’s no reason to get into any of this,” Canales interrupted. He checked his watch again. “But to answer your question about this Lonny Ogden, I have no idea why he phoned me, because I didn’t answer his calls. I’m sure the phone records will show that.”

  “They do,” Jericho verified. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t know Ogden or know why he was calling.”

  “I don’t know him.” Canales’s mouth tightened even more. “Plenty of people call me about the campaign. Heck, for all I know he could have been hired by one of Alton’s opponents to sully his name.”

  “Maybe,” Weston said, taking the seat next to Addie. “You still haven’t convinced me. Maybe Ogden knew about your boss’s connection to the Moonlight Strangler?”

  “That’s exactly the kind of talk I’m trying to stop,” Canales snapped. “This will be a tight campaign race, and I don’t want anyone using a smear tactic like this. We’re running on a platform of traditional values.
On family. Any mention of a serial killer could taint that.”

  Judging from his scowl, Weston wasn’t pleased with that answer, and he turned back to Boggs. “Did Ogden try to contact you, too?”

  “All my nonpersonal calls go through him these days.” He aimed a glance at Canales. “So it’s possible Ogden was actually trying to get in touch with me. It’s also possible it was about the Moonlight Strangler.” He paused, studied Addie again. “Has your father ever contacted you through a call or letters?”

  Because Weston’s arm was touching hers, she felt him tense. “No letters,” she answered. And waited for Boggs to continue.

  “Well, he might have sent me some,” Boggs finally said.

  It got very quiet in the room. For a couple of seconds anyway.

  “Excuse me?” Jericho snarled. “What letters?”

  Boggs held up his hands in a keep-calm gesture. “They might not even be real, but I started getting them a few months ago, and he said he was the Moonlight Strangler. Always signed them MS.”

  She looked at Weston to see if that matched the ones he’d received, and he nodded.

  “What’s in the letters?” she asked.

  Boggs took another deep breath. “He doesn’t say anything about the murders. He just keeps asking me if I remember him. I don’t,” he quickly volunteered. “But apparently he thinks we met years ago.”

  “Did you?” Weston sounded very much like a lawman right now. A riled one.

  “No. Maybe,” Boggs amended. “I’m sixty-one. I’ve met a lot of people, and it’s my guess that he saw one of my campaign ads and latched on to me.”

  “He gets letters like that all the time,” Canales added. “Some are nutcases who just want to be connected with someone famous. If we turned all of them over the police, the cops wouldn’t have time to do their jobs.”

  “I want those letters,” Weston insisted.

  Boggs quickly nodded. “Of course. I’ll have someone bring them here to the sheriff’s office right away.” He took out his phone to make a call.

  “I don’t want them leaked to the press,” Canales snapped to Weston. “It could hurt the election if the voters find out Boggs had any connection whatsoever to the Moonlight Strangler.”