“The owner of The Golden Slipper, Linda Maddox, the victim’s mother,” Jolie said.
“Could you excuse us?” Hamilton asked the supervisor.
After a cursory glance between Jolie and the sheriff, the woman nodded and left the office.
“Close the door, Murdoch.”
She did as ordered and made her way to stand in front of his desk. Boyce rose from the sofa, positioning himself a few feet to Hamilton’s left.
“Mr. Hunt, before I have Deputy Murdoch give me details on what she found, could you relay what your wife discovered?”
“Certainly. Per Cassy’s request, I made a call to my former partner, asking if she had heard anything in Cedar Rapids about girls going missing that fit the profile of both Grace Maddox and Sarah Kruger. This morning we got an answer.” From a file Jolie hadn’t noticed him holding, Boyce removed a one-inch stack of paper. “In the past twenty years, from ten different counties spread out over the state of Iowa, there have been reports of at least five to six missing girls. All fit the demographic between the ages of eleven to seventeen, living with a single parent after a divorce, no siblings, and all were involved in some kind of extracurricular activity where they were last seen. No girl looks the same, has any particular feature to connect them, or is of a single race; there were Caucasians, African-Americans, and Hispanics.”
Jolie’s stomach roiled. “Twenty years of this?”
“That’s just what she could find now. No one has put it together that there was a possible connection. Whoever has been doing this has the system figured out and knows not to make more than one abduction in the same county. Even in this day and age of the AMBER alert, law enforcement missed this. Until you,” Boyce said.
“Murdoch, you’re officially in charge of connecting Grace Maddox and Sarah Kruger,” Hamilton said. “I want you combing the damn streets, trying to figure out what Sarah was doing, where she was hanging out, who she was seen with, and then cross-reference them with Grace.”
“Sir, Grace’s file is slim. From the looks of things, her disappearance wasn’t even a blip on the radar.”
“That means you have to have a discussion with the acting sheriff at the time.”
She resisted the urge to groan. If the idea of girls being taken over twenty years was making her stomach queasy, confronting her father about his slip-up was making her downright sick. Riding a crazy, out-of-control roller coaster kind of sick. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“There’s no seeing to this, Murdoch, only doing. We’re day five since Sarah went missing. We’re running out of time.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Now, about Anthony Maddox. What did you learn from his mother?” Hamilton asked.
“All I was able to get out of her was that Grace and Anthony were her children. She insisted on knowing what happened to Anthony, and I had to tell her he is dead. Beyond that, she was too distraught to get anything else.”
“I’ll send Nash or Jennings to pick her up for an official ID. The Golden Slipper?”
“Uh, yeah, Linda is the owner and used to be a stripper.”
Boyce made a noise in his throat. “Sounds like the woman Nic and Con encountered that one time.”
“I haven’t been out there in a long while on any calls. Apparently she’s been keeping the place respectable.”
“Yeah, with a shotgun,” Jolie said under her breath.
“Come again?” Hamilton said.
“There was an incident in the bar, and well … uh, she shot her gun to stop a fight.”
Hamilton’s eyes narrowed, and Boyce shifted his stance, cocking his head in interest.
“What fight?”
Fudge! How was she going to explain this one? She clamped down on her lip. Could she just shrink out of sight?
“By the look on your face and the stalling, I’ll assume you had Xavier Hartmann with you, and he got into it with some of the patrons?” Hamilton’s tone was clipped, hovering at the edge of pissed off.
“Oh, this should be rich,” Boyce commented.
“Can I assume Detective O’Hanlon spoke to you about it?” Jolie asked.
“He brought it up. You do realize the ramifications of taking Xavier along on a police matter, right? A man suspected of killing another man. A man I’m trying to gather evidence against in said killing.”
“Yes, I do, sir, but would you have allowed me to walk into The Golden Slipper alone?”
“You wouldn’t have gone there in the first place. That’s something best left for Nash or myself. Not you.”
What the hell? He was beginning to sound like all the other sexist guys in her life. “Excuse me for being blunt, sir, but screw you.”
Boyce’s eyebrows shot up, and his face turned red as he attempted to hold back his laughter.
Hamilton, however, was far from amused. “What?”
“You’ve been riding my ass to do this and do that. And when I actually take the steps toward doing it, you suddenly want to rein me in and play the rookie card or, worse, the female card on me. If I were Nic or Cassy, would you have even batted an eye if they told you they’d gone someplace that was dangerous? Alone, even?”
Some of the anger fled from her boss’s eyes. She had him in a corner, and as Xavier had told her, it was time to rain hell down on him.
“I’m doing my best. I know I’ve got a long damn way to go when it comes to getting out of my father’s shadow. But don’t you ever coddle me. Sir.”
Boyce began clapping, a wide grin on his face. “She can be taught.”
Jolie’s heart thundered in her chest. Had she just told off her boss?
A hint of a smile played at Hamilton’s mouth. “Now take that intestinal fortitude and go square off with your father. You might be surprised how far you get with him.”
What had just happened here? She glanced from one man to the other, and it sank in what they’d done. “Did you intentionally provoke me?”
“I woke you up. You’ve been wallowing in self-pity since your brother’s arrest, and it’s high time you got your act together. There’s one thing right about me: I don’t hire weak-kneed women for this job. You’re a lot stronger than you give yourself credit for. Don’t let your old man or anyone else, for that matter, browbeat you.”
With a nod, Jolie headed for the door.
“Murdoch.”
She paused, turning to face Hamilton.
“Keep Hartmann in your sights. I don’t like it one bit having him involved in any part of these investigations, but you’re tasked with finding Sarah and I need eyes on him.”
“Sheriff, what about Detective O’Hanlon or Nash?”
He shook his head. “They’re needed on finding Anthony Maddox’s killer. I don’t like how things are going down around here. The only way to put an end to it all is to find Sarah. If Hartmann is innocent in the death of Clint Kruger, it’ll come to light when Sarah is brought home.” What he didn’t bother to say hung in the room between them. Sarah could also prove Xavier did kill her father.
Giving Hamilton a parting nod, Jolie left the office. Halfway to her desk, her phone vibrated against her leg. She pulled it out. A cold sweat coated her palms. What number would she find? Her late-night caller had left a lasting impression. But this was not that number; this number she knew.
“This is Murdoch.”
“Deputy, it’s the warden. We need you to come in, soon. Your brother is asking for you.”
Chapter Twenty
Business had been nonstop from the moment The Killdeer Pub’s doors opened. Xavier worked on autopilot, filling drink orders, bringing out food for the team of waitstaff, and doing the whole small-talk gig with the single patrons who lined the seats at the bar. In the back of his mind, he kept reminding himself to keep the limp out of his walk and not feed the gossip mill about the murders in town.
By now Jolie had probably revealed Anthony Maddox’s identity to the crew at the sheriff’s department. Once Linda had officially confirme
d her son’s death, the news would be out and the gossip mill would turn into a wildfire.
So far, no one had questioned him about his connection to Clint Kruger’s death. Which was an oddity, because the people in this county were not known to let idle gossip just lie. McIntire County was a bona fide mob of stickybeaks putting their noses where they didn’t belong. And, if it suited them, giving out opinions like gold on matters they knew next to nothing about.
Speaking of stickybeaks, stepping in when he shouldn’t have and fighting Jolie’s battle at the strip club had been the wrong move. In that one boneheaded move, he’d laid claim to her, telling all others she was off-limits. This was not keeping his distance.
A dark-haired woman holding a baby carrier stalked the path between the tables straight up to the bar. The huge backpack on her shoulder slid off and thunked on the only open seat. Exhaustion circled her eyes, but she looked more presentable than half of the women who’d been in and out of here on trips between the pub and the fairgrounds.
“Hartmann, would you mind watching Honor while I hit the head?” Nic O’Hanlon swung the seat up and over the bar in one smooth motion.
Her inquiring about, or rather, forcing the baby girl’s carrier over the bar, didn’t broker any rebuttal. Xavier reached out and took the curved handle.
“Thanks, I’ll be right back.”
Dark blue eyes stared back at him. Honor O’Hanlon was the tiniest thing he’d ever seen. She had a fist tucked against her cheek as she sucked away on a pacifier.
“I didn’t know you were a babysitter, too, Xavier,” a male voice from the crowd said.
“When have any of you told Nic no?” he shot back.
This received chuckles. As armor-coated and mouthy as Nic had been in the past, she’d grown on the people in Eider, and she had gradually accepted them. So Maura, her mother-in-law, reminded him on a daily basis. It probably helped that everyone loved Con and Cassy, too.
Xavier shifted around, making sure not to bump the carrier against any of the fountain handles and equipment. He set the baby seat on his chair and smiled at the girl. Honor continued to suck the life out of the pacifier. As long as she didn’t start crying for her mum, he’d be okay with this.
“Did I hear my granddaughter is here?” Maura bustled out of the kitchen and headed straight for the carrier.
“Nic just—”
She waved off his explanation, unbuckled the straps, and lifted the baby out. Honor curled her legs up and arched in her grandmother’s hands. Cooing, Maura brought the baby girl to her face and smothered her in kisses.
“Where’s my other grandbaby?”
“Right here, Mam, along with your son,” Con said. He was trying to wrangle a squirming Liam, who protested that he wanted down.
“I have the room at the back ready for everyone,” Maura said.
Liam squealed, grabbing a fistful of his father’s hair and yanking. Con grimaced, reaching up to disengage his son’s hand. “This kid is his mother’s.”
“Quit your bitchin’,” Nic said when she returned.
Xavier backed away from the group. They were still overwhelming, and as much as he wanted to pull Nic aside and speak to her privately, he knew this was the worst possible time. Especially when he caught sight of Cassy and her husband, Boyce Hunt, entering the pub.
“What’s the grand occasion that brings all of you in here on the busiest day?” he asked, although his lighthearted question did nothing to quell the tremors going wild in his body.
“Nic and Cassy’s folks are in town,” Con supplied.
It was expected. Xavier had told himself to be prepared for their eventual arrival, but hearing that William was about to walk through those doors started an avalanche of panic. Why today? Why now? Everything wasn’t right. Xavier couldn’t face the man and reveal he was his son with suspicion of murder hanging over his head. Despite what Jolie believed, without concrete proof to clear his name, Xavier was the guilty party.
His gaze flitted from one person to the next. That buzz of awareness was kicking in, narrowing his vision and heightening his senses. Frack it to hell! He’d been doing fine with all these people here. Why did the mention of his biological father’s eminent arrival set off the monster?
Nic’s narrowed eyes made him freeze. This was his biggest threat. The one person who could expose everything. He gripped the edge of the counter to keep from running. Her nostrils flared, as if she were scenting his fear and panic. She knew. The woman knew and was preparing to move in for the kill.
“Hey, booger-face,” Cassy said, taking an excited Liam from his father, breaking the spell between Nic and Xavier.
“Let’s get out of Xavier’s hair and get everyone seated,” Maura said, carrying her granddaughter to the back of the pub.
All save Nic followed. She cocked her head, staring at him as if studying a microbe under a scope. She inched closer to the bar, leaned over the top, and beckoned for him to come closer. He complied, not wanting to bring any more scrutiny.
“Yeah?” he asked.
“You and I are talking.”
He swallowed. “When?”
“Right now.”
“Nic, I can’t leave my post.”
She turned and faced the crowd. “Who in here needs a refill?”
Panic ripped a path right through him. What the hell was she doing?
A chorus of “we’re goods” rang out. With a nod, Nic turned back to him and pointed to the kitchen. “Outside,” she said and headed around the bar.
Man up, X, and follow her. You wanted a moment alone to ask her things, anyway. But not like this.
Taking a deep breath, he took off after Nic. In the kitchen, Farran gave him a “good luck with that one” shrug and went back to her cooking. Outside, the heat and humidity blasted him; the brief respite of the rain was long gone. Behind him the heavy exit door clicked shut, like the sound of a bullet being chambered.
Crossing her arms, Nic squared up to him. “I’ve put this off long enough. Blame it on my pregnant-addled mind. How long has it been since you lost the leg, and when were you discharged?”
Ire rose up. “I don’t see how that’s any of your damn business.”
“Semper fi.”
“Hoorah.” The response was automatic and totally against his will. And he hated her for taking advantage of him. This was not how Jolie would have handled the situation. No, her subtle comment at the dock was nowhere close to being as manipulative as Nic.
Shaking her head, Nic’s arms fell to her sides. “Once a marine, always a marine. Xavier, I thought I was bad, but damn almighty; I can’t begin to understand the implications of losing a limb. I just watched it all through my scope. You were up close and personal.”
“Nic, this isn’t the best place and time to be talking about this.” He turned toward the door.
“It never goes away.”
He froze, staring at his escape but unable to reach it.
“It just reaches a point of varying degrees of severity. One day, I could be normal, like I’ve never seen war. The next, I could be a raging lunatic, where every person I come into contact with is a threat to my life. My kids have helped. God, how they’ve helped. But I had to recognize that I couldn’t do this alone.”
His muscles thawed, and slowly, he faced her. “I’m not alone.” Not when Jolie refused to back down from him.
“Yet you drive away the people who want to help you.”
“There’s more to this than losing a limb and having my life completely altered.”
“You don’t think I get that? There’s always more to it. There’s always another excuse to get rid of the ones who pester and irritate you until you get to the point where you react in violence instead of using words. Shit, I’m a perfect example of what not to do.” Gradually, she stepped closer, until she was inches from him. “You’ve lived here for almost a year, and no one truly knows you. Con told me you have a sister and brother and that you didn’t want anyone to
know they were here.”
And he had two more sisters. He’d always been the big brother, the protector. But he was actually the second born. Nic held the mantle of protector, older sibling. And the damn words just wouldn’t come out.
The back door screeched open. “Hey, Nic, your parents are here,” Farran said.
Xavier’s body seized, and though he tried hard, he couldn’t stop the flinch in his facial muscles. The reaction didn’t pass Nic’s notice—the woman was a retired sniper, she’d been trained to pinpoint details and relay information. He’d exposed his weakness.
“Tell them to give me a sec,” she told her sister-in-law. Once the door smacked shut, she pounced. “You react every time my parents are mentioned. And when they’ve been here before, you’ve avoided us like the plague, yet I catch you staring at my dad … ” Her eyes widened. “Oh, shit!”
Xavier scrambled backward as her head jerked back, like the truth had slapped her hard in the face. “Nic, don’t.”
“Fuck!” She punched the air, wheeling on her heel and letting her head fall back. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! Why didn’t I see it sooner?”
“Nic, stop. Please.”
She spun back to him. “Who are you?” she demanded, poking him in the chest.
He caught her hand and yanked her close, ready to put her on the ground. His reaction was swift and a little rougher than planned, but she hadn’t lost her ability to defend herself, and she wrenched her arm back, twisting it and releasing his grip. She slipped free and drove the heel of her other hand into his chest. He staggered from the blow. Amazing she still had the strength to pull off such a feat with a man of his size and weight. Or maybe he’d let her, because they were family.
Rubbing the sore spot where her blow had landed, he put space between them in case Nic decided any of his answers weren’t to her liking. “Don’t touch me,” he growled.
“Don’t give me a reason to.” She paced but kept her gaze trained on him. “I want answers. Now.”
“This isn’t how it was supposed to play out.”
Nic wheeled to a halt. “Then how was it? You were just going to waltz into town, say, ‘Hey, Nic, Cassy, I’ve got some news for you. I’m related to you. And, oh, by the fucking way, your father’s got a problem with keeping it in his pants.’”
Sins of the Father Page 17
