Be Mine Forever (Detectives Kane and Alton)

“Was?” Kane looked at him. “What happened to her?”

“Her family moved away and I read somewhere she’d gone missing.” Williams frowned. “It was five years or so ago. I’m not sure.”

Kane ground his teeth as the images and explanations went on for half an hour. He’d seen enough and now had other concerns he had to discuss with Jenna. He straightened. “We’d better let you get some rest. Did you at least have a good time at the festival today? The fireworks were spectacular. I missed the ones just before but we caught the earlier ones from the window at The Cattleman’s.”

“Fireworks? Oh, they put on quite a show, don’t they? I spent my time taking photographs as usual but I had something else to do tonight.” Williams didn’t meet Kane’s eyes, shifting his gaze to the pompoms on the bench. He swallowed and his Adam’s apple bobbed. “It was good of you both to drop by. Maybe we can spend some time one weekend, when you’re back again, Ty, or I can send you some of my shots? Do you have any we could swap?”

“I’m sure I’ll be able to find something to share. I’ll be in touch. Dave has your details.” Carter removed his hat, ran a hand through his shaggy blond hair, and headed for the door. “We’ll see you later.” He disappeared down the stairs.

Kane hurried after him and once inside the Beast he looked at Carter. “I thought he was a predator but now I’m seriously considering he may be a possible suspect in Laurie Turner’s murder.”

“How so?” Carter pushed on his Stetson.

Kane started the engine. “Pompoms.”

Twenty-Nine

Jake Rowley disconnected a call from Jenna. She was still at The Cattleman’s Hotel and in Jo’s room, waiting for Kane and Agent Carter to get back from speaking to Stan Williams. Although he’d checked Williams out and had found nothing suspicious, and no complaints made against him, apparently Bobby Kalo out of the FBI office in Snakeskin Gully had unearthed something in his past. They’d found zip on the search warrant for the green Chrysler sedan admittedly driven by Verna Hughes. The judge ruled it was hearsay and not probable cause. Rowley tidied the front desk and pulled on his jacket. The deputy assigned to take over for the next few hours had already arrived and he’d explained everything he needed to know. It was just a precaution to have the sheriff’s department open until all the revelers in town had headed home. The day had gone fine, with only the usual disturbances and arguments that happened when a crowd of people descended on the town. It had been a long day and he looked forward to crawling into bed. He yawned and called Sandy. She’d be glad to know he was on his way to collect her.

The phone rang and rang with no reply. He checked the number and tried again. A knot of worry curled in his stomach and then he took a few deep breaths. She’d mentioned going upstairs to watch the fireworks and drink hot chocolate in her favorite chair and had probably fallen asleep. Of late, she’d been sleeping like the dead. She’d missed the old stuffed leather chair and wanted to take it to the ranch. He’d even asked Jenna if he could buy it for her and was confused at her refusal but the surprise came the day they’d finished the nursery. A delivery truck had arrived at the gate carrying a fine leather chair, made especially for nursing mothers. It rocked and was complete with footrest. It was a gift from Jenna and Dave. He could still hear Sandy’s woops of joy. She would treasure it always.

Rowley climbed into his SUV and drove the short distance to the old house, surprised to find it in darkness. Sandy wasn’t afraid of the dark but when they’d lived here, he’d never arrived home without seeing the porch light blazing a welcome and at least the hall light on downstairs. He parked and rushed to the front door, using his key to gain entrance. The house stunk of bleach as if someone had emptied and entire bottle on the floor. “Sandy?”

He flicked on lights. Nothing. Concern knotted his gut as he pulled out his Maglite and searched each room, looking for her. Nothing seemed disturbed. He walked into the kitchen and as the Maglite flooded the room, he made out Sandy’s purse and Thermos on the counter, same as when he’d left her. “Sandy, are you up there?”

Nothing.

Fear gripped him for her safety but his training clicked in to prevent him rushing up the stairs into unknown danger. If he heard a sound, he’d call for backup but likely Sandy was asleep in the bedroom. He eased his weapon from the holster and crept up the stairs avoiding the creaky steps he’d come to kno

w so well. He reached the landing and keeping his back to the wall, aimed his Maglite down the barrel of his Glock. Sweeping the hallway, he moved slowly to the first bedroom at the top of the stairs. The door hung open and the stink of bleach was choking. With his back flat to the wall he aimed his flashlight inside the room and gaped in horror. A young woman, her blue lips stretched wide around something stuffed into her mouth and her skin a deathly shade of gray, sat against the wall, her eyes fixed in a death stare. Blood matted one side of her head and ligature marks crisscrossed her neck. His Maglite reflected in a pool of liquid surrounding her and as he moved the beam around the room, he noticed another wet patch on the plastic covered mattress was dripping onto the floor.

Heart threatening to tear through his ribs, he turned away and checked the second bedroom. It was empty and nothing had been disturbed. The door to the next bedroom, the room he had shared with Sandy, was shut. He holstered his weapon, gave himself a mental shake to ease the panic threatening to overtake him, and pulled a surgical glove from his pocket. He used it to open the door and then stood to one side to turkey peek inside. The streetlight he’d once thought annoying shed an orange glow through the room, across the polished wood and over the figure of Sandy, lying motionless on the floor, her face bloody. He rushed in and fell to his knees beside her feverishly feeling for a pulse on her neck. “Sandy, come on. Open your eyes.”

Under his fingers he could feel blood pumping through her jugular, and pulled out his phone to call the paramedics. “This is Deputy Rowley. I need the paramedics, head injury, the patient is non-responsive, breathing, and five months pregnant. Yes, Sandy Rowley, my wife.” He gave the details and went back to her. “Sandy.” He brushed the hair from her face and felt the lump on her head. She was out cold.

He used his Maglite to check her, running one hand over her belly and waiting for what seemed like an eternity. His heart jumped with joy at the movement inside. As he cradled Sandy’s head in his lap, he called it in. Jenna was still in town and Kane had just arrived at the hotel so they’d be only minutes away. Relieved, he stroked Sandy’s face and her eyes fluttered. “Sandy, stay still now, you’ve hurt your head. Do you hurt anywhere? Is the baby okay?”

“Someone hit me with a flashlight.” Sandy sounded groggy and she gripped his arm. “I can feel the baby moving, and nothing hurts but my head. I thought they might have kicked me again.”

He looked down at her in horror. “Who kicked you?”

“I’m not sure, it was dark. The power was out.” Sandy touched her face. “They kicked me under the chin and I blacked out.”

Rowley helped her to sit up, stood, and then carried her to the old chair. He removed his jacket and draped it over her. “The paramedics are on their way and Jenna and Dave will be here soon.” The image of the dead girl flashed across his mind. He didn’t want Sandy to see a brutal murder. “I’ve checked the house, there’s no one here. I’ll go and see if the power has been turned off at the breaker box. Just wait here for a second.”

He pulled out gloves and snapped them on as he walked down the hallway and closed the door to the first bedroom before he ran downstairs. He went into the laundry to flip the breaker and lights spilled through the house. He checked the backdoor and finding it unlocked, turned the key before running back up the stairs to Sandy. After checking her over again, he crouched beside her. “How are you feeling?”

“You mean apart for my head feeling as if it’s been split in two? I’m okay.” Sandy gripped his arm. “I’m dizzy and sick to my stomach but okay. Why? Do you need to go somewhere?”

“No, I’m not leaving you alone again, but this is a crime scene and Jenna won’t want the paramedics destroying evidence. Will you be okay if I carry you downstairs? We’ll wait in the family room for the paramedics. You’ll need to go to the hospital; you have a nasty cut on your head. I’m coming with you. I’ll follow right behind in my SUV, okay?”

“Sure.” She reached out a hand and squeezed his arm. “Don’t worry, I’m tougher than you think.”

He stood and helped Sandy to her feet and then lifted her into his arms. Heart in his mouth, he descended the stairs. It might look good in the movies but negotiating the steps was hazardous with his precious cargo. Once he’d deposited her safely on the sofa, he sighed with relief. “They should be here soon.”

“Can you grab my purse and the Thermos from the kitchen?” Sandy gripped his arm. “I’ll need my purse at the hospital.”

Rowley smiled at her. “Sure, I’ll be right back.”