“What would you know? You’re just some rookie with no kids and a murderer for a brother.”
Ouch, that last bit hurt. Jolie powered through the barb and narrowed her gaze. Wendi was using caustic and rude behavior as a shield and a means to get Jolie to leave; that wasn’t going to work.
“I might be new to all of this, and my brother is in prison, but I’m still the child of a cop, and I’ve been around it a long time. As for being childless, guess it’s not my time yet. But I want you to help us find Sarah. You’re her mother; you know things we don’t that could help us as we search.”
Apparently Jolie’s speech was getting through, because Wendi suddenly began fixing her hair and adjusting her clothing. When she was satisfied with her half-kept appearance, she scooted into the corner of the couch, sitting up straighter.
“What do you need to know?”
“Tell me about Sarah. What kind of girl is she? What’re her hobbies? Anything she does that isn’t school related, etc. Tell me anything that you might not think is important. The littlest detail can help me.”
“I told Sheriff Hamilton all of this when I reported her missing.”
“Yes, I know, but I need to hear for myself. Okay?”
Wendi gnawed on her lips, seeming to talk herself into telling Jolie what she needed to know. Then, with a sigh worthy of an Emmy, she rattled off exactly what she recalled of the day Sarah went missing, which Jolie had read in Hamilton’s report. How Sarah went to the folk art shop and called her mother to tell her she was waiting on a ride home with a friend, the fact that she never showed, and the worry and panic setting in until Wendi called the sheriff’s office. She recited the events leading up to the day of Sarah’s disappearance and any fights the two might have had, which, from Wendi’s perspective, were few and the typical mother-daughter spats.
“What about friends you didn’t approve of?” Jolie asked.
Shaking her head, Wendi glanced at Rena and then returned her focus to Jolie. “Sarah had a small, core group of friends, and they all did the same things.”
“Which were?”
“Art and music. Sarah was into this anime show they all watched and talked about religiously.”
Jolie zeroed on that word, religiously. “Do you and Sarah attend church?”
“Yes.” Wendi blinked. “We’re Catholic. She’s gone to a few of the other churches in town with friends when they asked, but that’s it.”
“I know the last thing you want to talk about is your ex-husband, but I’ve got a few questions about him.”
This deflated the woman further. Other than the right personnel, Wendi was the only one in town aware that Clint had been killed at the park, as she’d had to give an official ID on the body. As much as his drug problem had driven them apart, from Wendi’s reaction, Jolie had to believe she still loved her ex.
Rena stood abruptly. “I need to get to work. Call me if you need to, Wendi.” She hustled toward the front door, skidded to a halt, swung around, and hurried back to the chair she’d vacated to grab a clunky, beat-up purse before she hightailed it out of the house. The door shuddered under the force of Rena’s exit.
“She didn’t have to leave,” Wendi mumbled.
“No, she didn’t.” Jolie studied Rena’s empty seat. Perhaps she shouldn’t have focused so closely on Wendi. “How old is Rena?”
“Twenty, twenty-one. I know she’s older than Sarah.”
Which wasn’t a problem in and of itself. But the rush to leave came right after Jolie mentioned Clint. “Could there have been something going on with her and Clint?”
Wendi scoffed. “Rena and Clint? Not even.”
“Why not?”
“First off, Rena’s not Clint’s type, and she’d never do that to me or Sarah.”
“How is she not Clint’s type?” Jolie asked.
“Young and too pierced. Don’t get me wrong, she’s a great friend for Sarah, and sweet, but he was never one to chase the younger women.”
Unless that younger woman was a friend of the daughter he wanted to reestablish a bond with. Wendi automatically thought her ex-husband was after other women. Maybe he was, maybe he wasn’t. But something wasn’t right. Other than Sarah, what could have driven that man to the park? What desire got him caught up in the clutches of a heroin addiction? What all led this man to being killed and being discovered in the presence of an ex-military man like Xavier?
“Wendi, I can’t rule out anything at this point. With the way Rena bolted out of here, she might have a connection to Clint you aren’t aware of.”
“The only connection between them would have been Sarah. Rena knew Sarah wasn’t to be anywhere near Clint.”
“According to what you told the sheriff, Clint was trying to get around the protection order to see Sarah. Is it possible Rena was helping him do that?”
“What for? Why does it matter? Sarah’s missing, and Clint is dead. Are you saying Rena had something to do with it?”
Oh, fudge. Jolie didn’t need Wendi getting all riled up. “No, I’m not saying that.” Could she botch this up even more? “Wendi, I’m trying to make sense of all of this and find your daughter. Okay? I just want to know if there’s even a remote chance that Clint could have asked Rena to meet him somewhere with Sarah so he could see his daughter and or talk with her.”
For a moment, Wendi chewed on her lip and then started in on her fingernails. Eventually her hand fell away from her mouth, and she sagged. “I guess there could have been a chance. Even with his drug problem, Clint loved Sarah. I was so furious with him for putting us through all of that suffering; I used the divorce and protection order to get back at him. I didn’t want him dragging Sarah down with him.”
“Do you think he was trying to get clean?”
Wendi shook her head. “I have no idea; I wouldn’t talk to him. Did he test positive for drugs?”
“We don’t have those tests back yet.”
Sighing, Wendi sank into her previous fetal position. “I told you all I know. Just leave me alone.”
Jolie lingered, reaching out to grip Wendi’s hand. “I know it seems difficult, but you need to take care of yourself. For Sarah.”
The mother stared at Jolie’s hand then gave a small nod. Giving her a reassuring squeeze, Jolie stood.
“I’ll ask the sheriff to keep you in the loop as much as we can with what we find. If you remember anything else, don’t hesitate to call or come see me. Okay?”
“Okay.”
As Jolie left, she paused at the door and watched the home movie of a young Sarah prancing around in a Cinderella costume, a long, blue ribbon trailing behind her. Her father suddenly appeared out of nowhere, caught up his little girl, and swung the gleeful child around. The happy moment was like a knife to Jolie’s soul.
Yet it made one thing crystal clear to her. Clint Kruger loved his daughter. So how could he have possibly wanted to steal her away from her mother?
Chapter Thirteen
“Where’ve you been?”
Xavier grabbed a towel from the hall closet next to the bathroom and wiped the sweat from his face. He moved into the kitchen, still ignoring Ariel. She stood, arms crossed, more pissed off than a dingo backed into a corner.
Opening the fridge, he pulled out a bottle of water, popped the seal, and guzzled the whole thing. When he did finally acknowledge her, she shook her head then returned to the living room. He watched until she vanished on the other side of the large sofa. Regret punched him hard in the gut. If she cared as much as she claimed, she had to know pushing was only going to make things worse between them. This wasn’t easy for him. Nothing in his life had been since he learned the truth Mum had been hiding from him for years.
He dropped the empty water bottle in the recycling bin as he went to the bathroom to shower.
Taking his time would give him the respite he needed to clear his head and figure out what he wanted to tell his sister. The mental ass-kicking he’d given himself for the full five
miles in the grueling heat had only fueled his desire to clamp down harder on keeping his problems from Ariel.
And nothing so far, not even the cool spray against his back while he rolled the bar of soap between his hands, had kept his mind off his second problem: Jolie.
Despite the fact that he’d probably killed a man with his bare hands, Jolie hadn’t once pushed for answers or pried into his life. She’d been oddly supportive, even putting her career on the line to give him an out when she found him with Clint Kruger’s body. After what happened with her brother, why would she be so nice? Was there some kind of agenda on her part? Like saving him from his own stupidity? Doing what she couldn’t do for her brother?
Bugger, he’d be fried if he allowed her to continue with that agenda. He might be a cripple, but he sure as hell wasn’t someone’s charity case.
He finished his shower on the coldest setting he could withstand, toweled off, and then, with the towel wrapped tightly around his waist and his normal prosthetic on, he headed for his bedroom. Voices coming from the front of the house made him pause then peek around the corner. From his position in the small hallway, he had a straight line of sight into the living room, where Sheriff Hamilton stood. The man’s grave face gave him a serious case of nausea.
Hurrying into his room, Xavier quickly pulled on clothing. Finger combing his hair, he gathered his lagging courage and went out to face the music.
Ariel turned as he entered the room. Her features were pale, but her eyes were filled with anger. Whatever Hamilton had to say, she was about to learn what Xavier had put off telling her, and Zac was not here, which didn’t bode well for the fallout.
“Xavier.” Hamilton nodded.
“Sheriff, am I to assume that by your presence you’ve got some bad news to tell me?”
Ariel flinched. “Does this have anything to do with that dead man found in the park two days ago?”
Both Xavier and Hamilton looked at her sharply. Xavier had a good idea of how she’d found out that much. The law enforcement offices had kept everything they could under a tight lid, but word had leaked that the body found was Clink Kruger.
Drawing in a breath, Xavier positioned himself closer to her. “I need to talk with you in private.”
“About what?” Ariel demanded.
Xavier gripped her shoulder and gently eased her back. “Ariel, not the time.”
“I’ve gone past the point of bloody well being shoved into the dark about this. Both of you better tell me what’s going on.”
This was not how he wanted this conversation to go.
With a gulp, he plowed into it. “A man was killed. And I was with him when it happened.”
If Ariel had been pale before, she was now translucent. “Dear God, please tell me you didn’t … ”
“I don’t know.”
“Xavier, what the hell? I can’t … I can’t believe you!” She spun on her heel and stormed off.
He closed his eyes as he heard her stomp up the stairs, wincing when the bedroom door slammed.
“It might be a good thing that she left for this part,” Hamilton said softly.
A storm kicked up inside Xavier’s chest. Those foreboding words caused a cold sweat to coat his body.
“The DNA swabs taken from Clint’s body are back. You’re a match.”
“I know. I told you I touched him.”
“I’m talking about the swabs around his neck and head, the exact places it would take to break a man’s neck. Xavier, it’s looking like murder.”
• • •
By noon, Jolie had made her rounds, turned in her incident report about yesterday in the park, and consumed way too much coffee. The caffeine was wearing off, and her lack of sleep last night was catching up to her. Bolting down another cup of sludge wouldn’t do her any good.
Her talk with Wendi hadn’t brought any new answers, only another big question in regards to Rena Chapman, who Jolie wasn’t able to locate for the time being. What did that young woman know that drove her to run from Wendi’s home at the mention of Clint Kruger?
Then there was Xavier. Jolie tapped a pen on his name. Other than his presence at the scene of Clint Kruger’s death, how did the Australian fit into this equation? Tossing her Bic, she sat back in the chair, swinging it back and forth as she chewed on a granola bar. Dang it, she wasn’t cut out for this investigative aspect of cop work. Too many questions, ideas, and emotions were twisting and writhing in her mind, leaving her so tired she could be chewing on a twig instead of granola and she’d never know it. How did Cassy deal with this?
Pushing to her feet, Jolie turned and studied the older deputy’s empty desk. She’d hoped to sit down and pick the woman’s brain today about her disconnected thoughts of Sarah’s and Grace’s disappearances, but last night Cassy had some complications with her pregnancy and had been ordered to stay home and rest. Left with one option, Jolie pulled her cell out of her uniform pants and called Con.
“What do you need, Deputy Murdoch?” he answered.
“Are you busy with anything?”
“Just clearing up some paperwork. Why?”
God, this was embarrassing. Yes, she’d known Con most of her life, but still. “I was … Well, that is … Can we meet for lunch so I can go over with you that thing we discussed yesterday morning?” She blurted the last bit so fast, she wasn’t sure he heard it.
“I’m good with that. Where do you want to meet?”
“Lamar’s diner?”
“Sounds good. Meet you there in … forty minutes.”
“’K, bye.” She gulped after ending the call. Here she’d expected more scrutiny, questions, or an excuse that he was too busy.
Looking at her shaking hand, Jolie frowned. When would she ever get over this lack of assurance and act like a cop? Second-guessing her abilities and training had become a constant thing for her after getting shot and dealing with the fallout over Ian. And, seriously, it was getting old, even to her. Pressing her knuckles against her forehead, she gave her skull a good tap.
You need to get your act together, Joles, or you’re going to get someone killed.
Movement near the sheriff’s office made her jerk to attention. Hamilton meandered into the bullpen, focused on a thin stack of papers in his hands. When he looked up, she blinked at the haggard lines etched in the corners of the man’s eyes and mouth. He appeared to have disregarded sleep in the past two days.
“Murdoch, what are you doing here?”
Her gaze bounced around the bullpen. Other than Hamilton, she was the sole person here. Even Jennings had left the dispatch desk to take a lunch break—leaving all calls to patch through to the sheriff. Nash was at the fairgrounds.
“I ... ” Oh, for God’s sake. Assert yourself. “I finished that report and was getting ready to go over the Maddox case with Detective O’Hanlon. Do you need me for something, sir?”
The haggard lines deepened into a perplexed expression, and then Hamilton shook his head, as if clearing the cobwebs. “I seriously need to convince the county board we need money for another deputy.” Sighing, he set the stack of papers on a nearby desk. “Go ahead with the meeting with O’Hanlon. When you’re done, head out to the fairgrounds and relieve Nash.”
“Yes, sir.” Jolie busied her hands with gathering her notes and the file on Grace. She had time before going to Lamar’s diner, but she got the sense Hamilton wanted to be alone.
That thought hit her wrong. Pausing, she chanced a strong study of her boss. He did look tired, wrung out. His uniform, normally a picture of crisp perfection, was rumpled, like he hadn’t been out of it in a few days. Cassy once mentioned that many mornings she’d find Hamilton sleeping on the old sofa in his office. Had he been doing it again?
“Sheriff, is everything all right?”
The perplexed look was back. “I’m fine.” The defensive tone in his voice sent off all Jolie’s warning bells and triggered a few latent memories.
Dad was like this during election
years. Every time, Mom had to stock up on antacids because he would constantly complain about heartburn. The stress and worry would make him testy. In reality, he had nothing to worry about—the folks of McIntire County always reelected him—but it was never a good time for him or their family.
“Sir, if you’re worried about the election, don’t be. While I’m sure Donovan Frost would do a fine job if he’s elected, people like you and the job you’ve done.”
A smile eased away Hamilton’s worry lines. He pointed at her. “That right there is why you need to consider your own career path, Deputy.”
Her face burned. “It wasn’t that hard to figure out what was up. I am the daughter of the former sheriff.”
“For now, let’s keep the worrying to a minimum—namely, just me. You go about your business.” With that dismissal, he gathered his papers and headed to the back of the building.
He’d sloughed off her concern. Had she been Cassy or Nic, would he have done the same thing? He always, always considered their opinions. Was she so green he didn’t give her a second thought? Or was there more to this ordeal than Hamilton was letting on? Gaze narrowed, she peered back over her shoulder. Did he know something?
• • •
Jolie found Con waiting for her in the back of the diner. Betty Lamar’s place was packed, but she always left one table open for her favorite police officers when they needed it. Dumping her things in the seat next to her, Jolie sat, her tired and sore muscles protesting.
“I took it upon myself to order for both of us. Food should be coming soon,” Con said, a smirk popping up when she winced. “Sore?”
“A little, yeah.” Her now relaxed state gave rise to a yawn she couldn’t stop. When she finished, Con’s smirk had widened.
“What?”
“I’m the one with a new babe at home, yet you look more exhausted than me.”
“How are Nic and Honor?”
He beamed. “Beautiful as always. Honor’s a whole inch longer than she was at birth.”
“And what does Liam think of his new baby sister?”
“None too happy to have to share Mam.” The gleam in Con’s eyes faded, and he eased back into his seat, staring over Jolie’s shoulder. “I’ll be damned.”
Sins of the Father Page 11
