Colton's Lethal Reunion (Coltons of Mustang Valley)

And hopefully have an answer for the beautiful detective before too much longer. Thinking of giving Kerry answers, he pushed the hands-free calling button on his steering wheel, and asked to call Jason. So far all the man had to report was that Odin Rogers was surface clean. Just as Kerry had said, there was nothing jumping out that would enable authorities even to bring him in for questioning.

“I’m not saying he’s clean,” Jason told him. “Only that he’s not making it easy for anyone to find anything on him. From what I can see, his money comes from investments, but I haven’t been able to trace the source of the capital. It’s all run through several accounts, at least one of them offshore, which doesn’t necessarily make it illegal. It just makes it harder to tell.”

Investments, anything to do with money, were Rafe’s forte and he passed several miles’ worth of dark, deserted roadway discussing the various accounts, trying to decipher what he was being told. He ended up asking Jason to forward all of the documents to him. Since the information hadn’t been obtained with a warrant, it probably wouldn’t be admissible in court or actionable in terms of Kerry’s investigation, but it could lead them to something separate and apart from the money laundering he suspected was going on. Like Jason had always said, follow the money trails and eventually you find the truth.

He’d noticed headlights coming up behind him as he was finishing his call, maybe even one of the siblings heading home. It wasn’t like they all checked in with each other. He hadn’t noticed how fast the vehicle was traveling or he might not have hung up. It gained at least a quarter of a mile on him in the time it took him to glance down at the end call button, check the road in front of him, and then glance in his rearview mirror.

The vehicle, an old four-wheel drive SUV from before they were officially called that, wasn’t carrying any Coltons, of that he was sure. The beat-up front bumper, and primer on the front hood told him that m

uch. And the speed at which the guy was traveling... Rafe watched closely, looking for signs of swerving or other erratic behavior. Was the driver drunk?

When he saw the guy maintaining control of his vehicle, he slowed down, figuring he’d let him pass. And then, once he could get a license plate number, which was only required on backs of cars in Arizona, he’d call state patrol and report him.

The plan was still in the forming stages as the grayish vehicle caught up to him. Rafe moved as much to the side of the road as he could, flirting with the shoulder, to give the other driver as much room as possible to pass. But rather than going by him, the guy seemed to bear down on him like he was going to hit him. Both hands on the wheel, Rafe quickly floored the gas pedal and got his truck back on the road. The other vehicle kept up with him, moving over to the opposite lane as though to pass, but then coming back over heading for a sideswipe of Rafe’s truck. Swerving to the shoulder, Rafe kept his truck steady, bumping along on gravel and hard dirt; he drove along the side of the lane, watching the other vehicle as much as the land in front of him. Half a mile up ahead a sign loomed. He was headed straight for it.

He had no choice but to slam on his brakes. And then, swerving, he drove back onto the road, heading in the opposite direction. Flooring the pedal again, he continued on toward town. Suddenly hearing a loud crack, he was not sure what had happened. The sound came one more time. He glanced in the rearview mirror, looking to see if the old, beat-up vehicle had turned and was still on him and noticed instead that the guy’s taillights were speeding off into the distance.

Heart pounding in his chest, he saw the flash just outside the driver’s side window. And heard one more crack.

That’s when he figured out that he’d just been fired upon.

Chapter 15

Kerry was waiting outside in the parking lot of the police department when Rafe pulled up. The second he’d called, she had a patrol car heading out to escort him in, and state police were looking for the vehicle he’d described in great detail.

When she caught herself practically running to open his truck door for him, she slowed down. Focused on the job. And stood there waiting for him to step down out of the truck.

Yeah, she looked him over carefully, noting everything from the good, healthy color of his skin, to the slightly frenetic energy about him. His hair wasn’t mussed and the knot on his tie was neatly in place.

He’d changed back into business clothes after she’d left him that afternoon. Why that mattered she didn’t know, but there it was. She’d been expecting him in the jeans she’d left him in.

“You’re okay?” she asked, when she’d determined for herself that he’d been telling her the truth. He wasn’t hurt.

“I am. I’m not so sure about my truck.” He was walking toward the tailgate and she followed him.

Damn. He was right. Someone had shot at him. “There are three distinct bullet holes,” she said, shaking all over again. She went down on her haunches, studying the marks, but didn’t think there was any trace evidence in them. Still, “I’ll get someone out here to check this,” she said. And then looked up at Lizzie and James, the two officers who’d seen Rafe in safely. “Head out there and see if you can find any casings,” she said, naming the approximate mile markers that should be their starting and stopping points. “I’m afraid that if we wait until morning, traffic will have ruined our chances of finding them.”

And then, hoping she had her emotions in check, she looked up at Rafe again. “Dane’s here,” she told him, “waiting to speak with you.”

His nod was appropriate. The warm, sweet look in his gaze was not.

“I’m fine, Ker.”

She nodded, and led him inside.

* * *

Kerry listened with a sense of pride as Rafe described to Dane, in clear detail, exactly what he’d told her on the phone. There was nothing duplicitous about the man. His stories never changed.

His reliability had been one of the things she’d loved about him. Rafe Kay had been the one aspect of her life she could count on.

“I didn’t get a good look at the guy,” he said. “But it could have been the same guy up on the mountain, without the beard. I hit him pretty hard. If it is the same man, he’ll have bruises. This guy was broad shouldered, too. Dark hair, from what I could tell. And unless someone was lying down in the vehicle, he was alone.”

“Are you sure enough to risk your life on that?” Dane asked.

Frowning, Rafe shook his head. “Absolutely not.”

The lines on Dane’s slightly weathered face deepened with concern as he looked from one to the other of them at the round table they were sharing. “I think it’s clear that you and Kerry are both much safer in town,” he said, but talking mostly to Rafe, who looked as put together as always, like no matter what happened to him, he just took it and moved on. Not even his tie was askew.