Forgiven Justice (Cowboy Justice Association Book 14)

by Olivia Jaymes

  “I do,” Logan confirmed, his heart picking up pace. He was always excited when there was a break in the case. “What do you think about him?”

  “I’ll be honest. I’m conflicted. So far, he doesn’t seem to act like any sort of structured and disciplined serial killer, but all we’ve seen is him drunk. I’m hoping when he sobers up that we’ll see what he’s actually capable of.”

  They agreed that Logan would video call in fifteen minutes. Distracted with the new development, he barely registered throwing the rest of his clothes and toiletries into his bag before heading downstairs to his office. This case had been a thorn in his side, and he would love to close it and be done.

  Ava was straightening up the living room when he passed by, and she asked him where he was going in such a hurry. He must have been practically running into the office.

  “Eli called. They think they might have him. They’re going to question him and I’m going to dial in for it. You can sit in if you want to.”

  She tossed a throw pillow onto the couch. “That sounds a heck of a lot more interesting than doing the dinner dishes. I’m in. I’ll sit off to the side so they won’t know I’m there.”

  They both went into the office, Logan sat behind his desk and Ava sat on the loveseat against the wall where the camera couldn’t see her. Eli answered the video call and positioned Logan so that he was looking directly at the suspect.

  The man looked like he’d had a hell of a night partying. His eyes were red-rimmed with huge dark circles underneath. His clothes were dirty and slightly askew as if he’d slept in them, tossing and turning. His hands were shaking slightly as he clutched the paper coffee cup as if drinking for dear life.

  He certainly didn’t look like a murderous mastermind.

  But then Wade Bryson hadn’t either. He’d looked like a soft, spoiled businessman. Ted Bundy had looked like the boy next door. John Wayne Gacy had been a clown at kids’ birthday parties.

  Drake had already read the man his rights and repeated that he could have an attorney present if he so desired. The guy shook his head and spoke for the first time since Logan had tuned in.

  “I told you, man, I didn’t do anything. I don’t even remember drinking last night. Someone must have slipped something into my water bottle.”

  “Do you still have your water bottle?” Drake asked. “We can have it tested.”

  “I dunno, man. You’ve got my car. It would be there, I suppose.”

  Drake leaned out of the screen for a moment, murmuring something, probably to one of the deputies.

  “We’re going to look for it, then. In the meantime, we have some questions for you. Do you feel up to answering them?”

  The man shrugged his shoulders and took another sip of coffee. “Sure, whatever. I’m telling the truth here. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  Drake reached out and pressed the record button on his phone. “Do you mind if I record this interview?”

  “Sure, whatever.”

  “Can you please state your full name for the record?”

  “Sure. My name is Tom Allen Garrett. My friends call me Tag, for short.”

  Tag stipulated once again that he didn’t need a lawyer and was answering questions of his own free will. Drake told him that the questioning could stop at any time if he said that he wanted an attorney present.

  Drake introduced himself, Eli, and then Logan. Tag squinted at the laptop but didn’t seem to object to anyone being remotely located.

  The questions started out tame enough, asking about the night before. Who he was with, where he’d been, and what he could remember about the evening. According to Tag, he’d finished his work at a diner in the next town - he was a cook - and he had received a text from a few friends about having a drink together. He headed to the local watering hole in Corville where he proceeded to have a couple of sodas along with a cheese pizza. His friends had ordered other food. He swore he hadn’t had an alcoholic drink because he didn’t touch the stuff when he had to work the next day.

  Tag named his local friends and Logan recognized the surnames. Families didn’t move into Corville; they only moved out. From his recollections, Tag didn’t run with a particularly responsible and law-abiding crowd. He’d never, however, run in any of them for murder. Petty shit? Yes. Killing several other human beings in a sadistic manner? No.

  “We’re definitely going to be confirming your story with your friends and anyone else you may have interacted with last night,” Drake said. “One of my deputies is right now talking to the bartender and the waitress for your table, so if you’re not telling me the truth, this is the time to do it. You don’t want to lie to law enforcement.”

  Tag frowned, shaking his head again. “Shit, I’m telling the truth. I didn’t do anything. Man, this is a lot of hassle for a DUI. And I wasn’t even drunk. I tell you, I was set up. Somebody drugged me. I’m telling the truth.”

  A DUI was the least of Tag’s problems, but so far he seemed genuinely oblivious to that fact.

  “You think one of your friends did this?” Eli asked.

  “Maybe,” Tag conceded. “Or the bartender or waitress. Or someone who had access to my drink. Really, anyone could have done it.”

  Logan tapped out a message on his phone to Eli, who read it and quickly responded.

  Yes, they took a blood sample when they pulled him over.

  Good, they could have it tested for drugs. If Tag was going to blame someone else, he was going to need proof.

  “And why would they do that?” Eli asked. “Do you have enemies?”

  At that question Tag shifted in his chair, his gaze darting around the room.

  “Naw, man. I don’t have any enemies. Maybe…maybe they were just playing a joke on me or something. You’ll have to ask them, not me. They’re the ones who spiked my drink. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  That was about the twelfth time Tag had said those exact words. To Logan’s ears, it sounded like the guy was protesting just a little too much.

  But a serial killer? Logan trusted his gut and so far nothing Tag said was raising any red flags, other than saying he didn’t have any enemies. Clearly, that was a lie. And if he’d lied about that, what else was he hiding? Tag might simply be really good at looking like he wasn’t a threat. Perhaps that’s how he’d convinced six grown men to follow him into a death den.

  It was frustrating but Logan wasn’t sitting in the room with Tag. Although he could see their suspect on camera it simply wasn’t the same. He couldn’t feel the man’s feet shuffle under the table, he couldn’t smell the sharp odor of tension sweat. Technology couldn’t quite convey Tag’s minute twitches that could only be seen up close and personal - a sheen of sweat on the upper lip or perhaps a slight flexing of the fingers. Logan couldn’t trust his gut in these circumstances.

  I’m not the lead investigator. This isn’t technically my case.

  As a rule, Logan tried not to be a micromanager with his team. In the beginning, he’d tried to be the lead on every single case that came across his desk but that had been a recipe for disaster. As it was, he worked far too many hours and had pissed his family off. He couldn’t be everything to everyone and still have time to sleep at night. He had to trust the people he’d hired and Eli was one of the best.

  “Let’s change directions here for a minute,” Eli said, reaching under the table and pulling out a small cardboard box. “The officers on the scene found these items in your trunk. Can you tell me where you got them?”

  Eli placed two wallets on the table along with the corresponding driver’s licenses and several credit cards. Tag frowned and seemed to physically shrink back from the items, pressing himself against the back of the chair.

  “Man, I don’t know. I’ve never seen those before. I don’t think they came from my car. The cops must have found them someplace else.”

  Eli must have seen Tag’s reaction because he pushed the wallets a little closer to him.

  “Are you sure
? Take a good look at them. Take all the time you need. The officers said they found these in a paper bag in your trunk.”

  Tag just shook his head again. “Nope. No. I’ve never seen those.”

  “Then how do you explain them being in your trunk?”

  “Someone must have planted them there,” Tag said, nodding as if the explanation was obvious. “Maybe the cops or maybe someone else, but I definitely have never seen those in my entire life.”

  “So your story here today is that someone planted a drug in your drink and also these wallets in the trunk of your car. Is that correct?”

  Tag had to see that his story wasn’t all that compelling and that no one was buying it.

  “Well…yeah. I know it sounds weird but that’s the truth.”

  “I’m glad that you understand that it sounds strange, Tag, because it’s hard to believe that those two things would happen to one person. Especially since you said you didn’t have any enemies. So do you think your friends did this?”

  “No, man. No.”

  “So strangers did this? A complete and total stranger chose you at random to drug your drink and place these items in your trunk? Is that the story you’re going with today?”

  “Yeah, that’s probably what happened. I’m being framed, honestly.”

  Eli held up one of the credit cards, encased in a plastic evidence bag. “You say you’re being framed. For what? You don’t even know who these belong to or where they came from. Right?”

  Tag shifted on his chair, his cheeks turning a ruddy shade. As far as Logan was concerned, this guy wasn’t telling the whole truth. Eli and Drake surely knew it as well.

  “Tag, lying to law enforcement isn’t going to help you,” Drake said. “Telling the truth is absolutely the way to go.”

  “I am telling the truth.”

  Tag pressed his lips together as if he didn’t have anything more to say. Clearing his throat, Eli placed the credit card back on the table and picked up one of the driver’s licenses. He held it up in front of Tag.

  “Do you know this person? Brian Wells? Have you ever met him before?”

  “Naw, man. I’ve never seen him or anything.”

  Eli moved the license closer to Tag. “Are you sure? Take a closer look. This is important.”

  Tag barely glanced at it. “I said I don’t know him.”

  Eli picked up the other license. “How about this man? Ever see him before?”

  “No. Shit, I don’t know these people. Just give them back their stuff and leave me alone.”

  Eli sat forward in his chair. “That’s the thing, Tag. We can’t give them back. You know why not? Because they’re dead. As in murdered. And right now, you are our only suspect.”

  Tag was already shaking his head before Eli finished his sentence.

  “No. No, no, no. I didn’t do nothin’. I didn’t hurt anyone. I’m no killer.”

  His voice had gone up at least an octave, and the color had drained from his face.

  “Then maybe you should tell me the truth about where these wallets came from. Then you won’t be our only suspect anymore.”

  Tag’s head fell forward and he groaned loudly. “C’mon, man. I’m no killer. Hell, I don’t even step on ants.”

  “Then tell me how you came to have two murder victims’ wallets in your trunk.”

  “I don’t know. I just don’t know.”

  An arm came into the camera angle, placing a piece of paper in front of Eli. He quickly scanned it and then slid it in front of Drake.

  “Okay, let’s start from the beginning, Tag. Because the bartender, waitress, and several people in the bar last night all said that you were drinking beer and whiskey. So if you’ll lie about that, what else are you lying about?”

  Logan’s guess? Everything.

  He might or might not be their killer. But he sure as hell wasn’t telling the truth.

  15

  Reed placed the last suitcase next to the bed in the master bedroom of the beachfront condo they’d rented. He wasn’t sure how Logan and Tanner had managed it, but somehow they’d found enough units in this high rise building for all of the families. Reed and Kaylee’s had two bedrooms but the sofa in the living room folded out into a bed for Sami. She was so excited about sleeping on it and pretending they were camping.

  “It would have been cheaper to go camping,” Reed said to Kaylee as she began to unpack their suitcases, stuffing underwear and socks into drawers. “Sami loves to camp.”

  Kaylee smiled and rolled her eyes. “She does, but I have to say that I think this vacation is worth every penny. Sun, sand, the sound of the ocean. Did you see that view?”

  He had. They could see over the Gulf of Mexico from both the living room and their bedroom. The condo had a balcony that would be wonderful for watching the sunset in the evening.

  “You hate camping.”

  He didn’t have to phrase it as a question because he knew the answer all too well. Kaylee loved places with room service and fluffy towels. The condo only had the latter, however.

  “When you’re a girl, peeing outside isn’t as fun as it is for a guy,” she giggled. “Every now and then, it’s nice to have a vacation where I get to sleep in a nice bed instead of a sleeping bag.”

  Josh stuck his head around the door. “Mom, Dad, is it okay if Ben and I walk around a bit? I promise I’ll unpack later. I’ll unpack Sami’s stuff, too.”

  “I can’t speak for Seth or Presley,” Kaylee answered. “But it’s fine with me. And as for Sami’s suitcase, I’ll help her unpack if she needs it. Go have fun. You should grab Colt, too. They’re just down the hall.”

  “Maybe. Thanks, Mom.”

  Josh immediately disappeared and they heard the condo door open and close.

  Reed’s gaze lingered where his son had just stood. “I kind of get the feeling that Josh and Colt don’t vibe with one another. I could be wrong though.”

  “Colt can be a little…much,” Kaylee admitted. “Josh is so serious most of the time it’s probably only natural that he feels more comfortable with someone older, more mature. But I wish he would cut loose a little more. I just want him to have some fun on this trip, Reed. I don’t want him to grow old before his time. You’re only young once, you know.”

  Reed’s brow quirked. “Would you go back to fifteen, if you could?”

  “No way in hell, but I wouldn’t mind being in my twenties again.” She placed her hands under her breasts and pushed them up a few inches. “Everything was up and firm back then.”

  Kicking the door closed with his foot, Reed pulled his beautiful wife into his arms, his lips grazing the soft skin of her neck. He filled his lungs with her sweet scent, a little floral and a bit of musk. She wasn’t wearing any perfume, and she rarely did. She just smelled unbelievably good all the damn time.

  “I think you look fucking amazing,” he told her, nibbling on her collar bone and feeling her shudder delicately in his arms. He could make love to her all day long and never get tired of it. Funny how he hadn’t thought the passion would last this long and burn this hot, but here he was panting after his wife after all these years of marriage. He’d hit the jackpot the day he’d met this woman and he’d be forever grateful. “In fact, I think you look better than the day I met you. You were beautiful then, but you’re downright gorgeous now.”

  Automatically his fingers brushed her tank top right where it would cover the scar from that day long ago when she’d been shot. He’d almost lost her, and he’d never stop being grateful for the time they’d been given together. He’d thought he loved her before, but now? Seeing her as a mother, loving their children? Still loving him after all they’d been through? It knocked him off of his feet.

  “Reed Mitchell,” Kaylee said with a giggle. “We cannot right now. Our friends are waiting for us.”

  “We could. We’d just have to be quick.”

  “Sami is in the living room,” she reminded him.

  “We should have told Josh
to take Sami with him.”

  Her hands glided down his torso, her palms resting on his abdomen. “How about a rain check, handsome? Once Sami goes to sleep, we can build our own pillow fort right here in this room.”

  “I’ll take it.”

  He kissed her again, more deeply this time until they were both breathless and a little unsteady. She pressed a hand to her pink cheek.

  “They’re going to take one look at us and know what we were doing.”

  “They’ll just be jealous.”

  “I have a feeling our friends have just as much sex as we do. Maybe more. Ava and Logan have teenagers who are never home.”

  “Quality over quantity, babe.”

  That was his mantra. At least until the kids were older. Then he’d go for both.

  Kaylee returned to pulling things out of the suitcase open on the bed. “Is it really over? The killer is done?”

  Whoa, the conversation had taken quite the unexpected turn. Reed hadn’t seen this coming. He hadn’t even realized Kaylee was thinking about it.

  “There haven’t been any more bodies,” he reminded her. “He may have moved out of the area. He may have cycles where he’s active and others where he’s not. We don’t know what set him off.”

  “Or what made him stop. If he was trying to kill you—“

  Reed held up his hands. “Wait, babe. He never came close to me. Or any of the other guys. We don’t even know for sure that Ava’s theory about the initials is correct. It could be a wild coin—“

  “Coincidence,” Kaylee finished for him, shoving their swimsuits into a drawer. “You hate coincidences. All of the guys do. Don’t you think it’s weird? All six of those men with your initials carved into their bodies. And not all of you. Just the ones that were there to catch Wade Bryson.”

  Kaylee and Ava had been writing books on crime for years now. She had excellent instincts about a case and it appeared she had strong feelings about this one.