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Mirabella pressed her lips together, struggling to look as if everything was all right instead of in a state of almost complete upheaval. “Yes, sir.”
She looked like the picture of innocence, but he had a feeling he really wasn’t getting through to her. He’d never met a redheaded woman yet who, politely or not, wasn’t stubborn beyond words.
Still, he pressed on. “And if you need to go home and go to bed in order to get better, I want you to go do just that.”
Going to bed was what got me into this situation to begin with, Mirabella couldn’t help thinking ruefully.
Out loud, she told Zane, “That’s very kind of you, Mr. Colton, but I’m fine.”
“Belle,” Zane began, hesitating for a moment before finally continuing, “forgive me for being blunt here, but you really don’t look fine.”
She looked away and shrugged. “Bad hair day,” she murmured.
“Your hair is beautiful as always,” Zane said like a man who had no idea he was paying a woman a compliment instead of just simply stating what to him was an obvious fact. “Your face, however looks really pale.”
She became a tad defensive when she heard that. “I’m a redhead, it comes with the territory,” she said, wishing he would stop being so nice and just walk away like any normal, self-absorbed boss.
But he wasn’t a normal, self-absorbed boss, which was why, despite her best efforts not to, she found herself being so strongly attracted to him.
“I’m aware of that,” Zane replied patiently. “But you’re looking paler than usual.”
Mirabella blinked, totally surprised. “You’ve noticed how pale I am?” she asked, not knowing whether to be pleased because what Zane had just said meant he was paying attention to her, or insulted because his assessment was less than flattering—even if it was undoubtedly true.
Maybe he hadn’t worded that quite right, Zane realized. Still, it was out and he needed to do a little damage control.
“You’re a difficult person to ignore, Belle,” he told her, sounding as formal as he could. “Now if you’re feeling sick, say so and go home. There’s nothing here that can’t wait for a few days.”
This isn’t going to go away in a few days. It’s not going to go away for another six months, she told him silently.
Stubbornly, Mirabella shook her head in response to his instructions. “I don’t need to go home. It’s just something I ate,” she assured him with as much feeling as she could feign. “I’m over the worst of it. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to get back to my desk. I have those notes of yours to input.”
He looked at her dubiously. He knew she was lying about feeling better, but short of throwing her over his shoulder, carrying her to his car and driving her home, there wasn’t anything he could do. If he tried to force her to do what he’d just instructed her to do, it might even be viewed as harassment by some and the last thing he needed at a time like this was to get embroiled in a case involving acts of harassment.
With no other option opened to him, Zane merely nodded and told her, “I’ll see you in about an hour.” He turned away, intent on heading toward the elevator banks.
He took exactly three steps in that direction when he saw the elevator door on the far end opening and the sheriff emerging with one of his deputies, Charlie Kidwell, right behind him. Both men appeared to look rather grim—and they were both looking at him.
Zane froze in place.
The sheriff was paying him two visits in the space of two days. This couldn’t be good, he couldn’t help thinking.
How did a man brace himself to hear news he didn’t want to hear?
Zane had no answer for that. All he could do was fervently hope he was wrong about the sheriff’s reason for this second visit.
“You’re back, Sheriff,” Zane said by way of a greeting to the older man. His voice sounded stilted to his own ears, but it was all he could come up with at the spur of the moment.
“Looks like it,” Watkins acknowledged, his face devoid of any expression.
Zane’s mouth felt like cotton.
He was really trying to prolong this process, as though the message the sheriff was bringing would somehow change if he stalled long enough. “You were just here yesterday. Mind if I ask what you’re doing back here so soon?”
“I don’t mind,” Watkins assured him.
Zane had the distinct impression he was being toyed with and it helped him to rally. If the sheriff was toying with him, then the news couldn’t be bad, right? Or could it?
“As a matter of fact,” the sheriff drawled, “I’m going to tell you right now what made me come back so soon. You see, while going over the outside of the crime scene earlier today, I found this here little thing in the bushes that the other fellas from the crime scene unit must have missed the first time around.”
Zane had a strange, sinking feeling he wasn’t going to like the answer, but he had to ask. “What little thing?”
Watkins smiled broadly. It was a humorless smile that still seemed to smack of satisfaction.
“Glad you asked. It was a cuff link. Now, I don’t have any myself. I’m just a regular old-buttons-on-my-shirts kind of guy. But you rich fellas, you like all that pretty extra stuff,” Watkins said, glancing at his deputy as if waiting for the other man to agree. But before Kidwell could say anything, Watkins continued. “Problem with cuff links and things of that nature, is that sometimes, you lose ’em and don’t even know it. Which must be how you lost yours,” Watkins concluded, holding up the cuff link, which was in a see-through evidence bag—as if it was exhibit A.
Zane frowned. Was this where the sheriff’s dance finally led? His eyes narrowed as he glared at the older man. “Are you saying you found my cuff link near the crime scene?”
Watkins smiled again. “That’s what I’m saying. Can’t put nothing over on you, can I?” the sheriff asked sarcastically. Dropping at least part of his warm, friendly act, Watkins told him, “I’d like you to come with me so we can have a little conversation about that cuff link and how it happened to be where it was found.”
Zane stared at the sheriff, stunned. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Mirabella was having the exact same reaction as he was to what the sheriff was implying.
“Are you arresting me, Sheriff?” he asked in disbelief.
“No, not yet anyway,” he said mildly. And then, in a far less innocent tone of voice he asked, “Should I be?”
“No, you shouldn’t be,” Zane said with feeling. “I didn’t kidnap my fa— Eldridge,” he corrected himself, not wanting to have to listen to the sheriff do it. “You know that.”
“Right now, Mr. Colton, I don’t know very much of anything,” Watkins told him. “Except that Eldridge Colton is missing and nobody’s found hide nor hair of him. Which just has me scratching my head and trying my damndest to put all the little pieces together.” His eyes shifted to Zane’s face, assuming a sterner expression. “What I’d appreciate is having you come down to the station with me so we can have ourselves a little conversation about how that cuff link of yours just happened to find itself in the bushes outside your stepdaddy’s window.” The fake smile was back as he added, “It couldn’t have just walked there all by itself.”
“There’s a simple explanation for that,” Zane began. He definitely didn’t like what the sheriff was all but flatly stating.
With exaggerated politeness, the sheriff cut him off. “And I am looking forward to hearing that simple explanation—right after I get you to the station. Now, you can either come peacefully, or I can slap the cuffs on you and take you into custody in front of all those nice people in this building. It don’t make no matter to me one way or the other, but I suspect it does to you, Mr. Colton. So I leave it all up to you. The choice is yours.”
“I’ll come peacefully,” Zane answered through clenched teeth, feeling as far from peaceful as humanly possible.
Watkins pushed his Stetson back with the tip of his thumb. “Good choice,” he agreed with exaggerated approval.
Mirabella had been standing by silently all this time. But seeing the sheriff put his hand on Zane’s elbow just now, as if he was about to usher him into the elevator, she suddenly snapped to life.
Moving as quickly as she could, she placed herself in front of the elevator door, barring entrance into the elevator car once it arrived.
“You’d best step out of the way if you know what’s good for you, little lady,” Watkins advised. His tone might have seemed exceedingly friendly, but the look in his eyes held a warning.
Mirabella took no notice. Her attention was entirely focused on Zane. “Do you want me to call the corporate lawyers, Mr. Colton?” she asked, deliberately ignoring the sheriff and his deputy. “Or your personal lawyer?” she suggested in the next breath. She thought that might be the best thing to do, given the way the sheriff was behaving toward Zane.
“No, not yet, Belle,” Zane answered. “I don’t need a lawyer.”
Mirabella tended to disagree. She looked at Zane, worried in addition to feeling sick to her stomach. She knew in her heart that Zane couldn’t have harmed Eldridge in any way, which was more than she could say about some members of the Colton family, who would do anything to advance themselves. But what she thought didn’t matter. And to an outsider, it appeared that Zane really could use some legal counsel.
Especially when the sheriff asked in a voice that bespoke of impending doom. “You sure about that, Mr. Colton? Having your lawyer there might prove to be very...handy,” Watkins finally concluded.
“I’ve got nothing to prove and nothing to hide,” Zane stated flatly. “So, no, I don’t need to have a lawyer present.” His eyes shifted to Watkins. “But thank you for your concern, Sheriff,” he added coldly.
Watkins merely shrugged indifferently. “Suit yourself, Mr. Colton, but I’m going on record as saying I think you’re making a big mistake not having this little lady get you that lawyer of yours.” His gray eyes shifted toward Mirabella. “And you’re my witness, little lady,” he said, emphasizing this fact.
Mirabella clenched her hands into fists, but kept them firmly against her sides. She knew she was expected to keep silent, to just be part of the decor, but she couldn’t in all good conscience say nothing.
“What I’m a witness to, Sheriff Watkins, is one of your bigger mistakes. Mr. Colton didn’t kidnap or harm Mr. Eldridge,” she told him fiercely. “He wouldn’t do something so awful.”
Ordinarily, Watkins would have just ignored her the way he ignored mosquitoes unless they had the misfortune of landing on him. However, he was amused by her bravado. So, the sheriff paused and looked at her.
“And you know this because...”
Mirabella drew herself up to her full height. “Because I have—and use—the common sense the good Lord gave me. Something that you, Sheriff, are apparently lacking.”
Zane had no idea exactly what the sheriff might be capable of if pushed too far. And, in any event, he didn’t want Mirabella drawn into this. There was just something about her that brought out the protector in him.
“Belle, don’t,” he instructed firmly. “It’s going to be all right. You just hold down the fort until I get back.”
She squared her shoulders, resigned, but not defeated. “All right, but I still think you should let me call the lawyer.”
A faint bell dinged, announcing the elevator had arrived.
“Smart girl. You should listen to her,” Watkins advised as he ushered Zane into the elevator car. The deputy got on behind them.
“Maybe later,” Zane retorted.
“Suit yourself. But later might be too late,” the sheriff predicted.
Mirabella’s heart sank as she watched the elevator doors close, cutting off her view of Zane.
She had a bad feeling about this.
Chapter 4 (#ulink_49509e34-34db-5b8e-9496-3067f44ef1a7)
Watkins silently walked into the small area that doubled as an interrogation room when it wasn’t being used as a break room by his deputies. Zane had been sitting there for the better part of an hour, waiting for the sheriff to return after he had placed him there, telling him to wait and that he would be back soon.
Obviously they had different definitions of the word soon, Zane thought. But then, he was aware Watkins was toying with him.
Entering from behind Zane, the sheriff dropped a sealed evidence bag on the table right in front of him. The contents of the bag made a small “ping” noise as it made contact with the metal tabletop.
“Now, then,” Watkins declared, “I believe that there is your cuff link, Mr. Colton. You’re not going to waste your breath and my time denying it, are you?” he challenged, sitting down opposite Zane. “What with those pretty initials on it and all, saying Z.C., I figure that cuff link’s gotta be yours.”
Zane looked at the item in question. Even contained in the see-through evidence bag the way it was, the cuff link managed to catch the room’s overhead light. It gleamed almost defiantly as it lay there in the center of the small metal table.
Zane raised his eyes to look at the smug expression on the sheriff’s face. He could see Watkins was just itching for him to deny ownership. The sheriff was a man who relished fighting—and enjoyed winning.
He was not about to give Watkins that satisfaction.
“It’s mine,” Zane replied.
He’d only noticed that the cuff link was missing sometime toward the latter part of the day that his father had been presumably kidnapped. With bigger things to deal with than a missing cuff link, he hadn’t even tried to find it.
Apparently Watkins had.
“Well, I’m glad we got that out of the way,” Watkins said, referring to his suspect’s admission. “Now, just what was it doing in the bushes right outside your stepdaddy’s window?” Watkins asked in a faux friendly voice, his eyes once again all but pinning Zane to his seat.
Watkins was the kind of man he could easily lose his temper with, but Zane knew he only stood to lose if he did so. Exercising total restraint, he managed to control his temper. He only sounded mildly sarcastic as he answered the sheriff’s question.
“I don’t know, I must have lost it while I was out there, looking for Eldridge after we discovered he wasn’t in his room and we found his blood all over the floor.”
Watkins’s expression remained skeptical. “Or maybe you lost it while dragging your stepfather’s body out through his bedroom window. If you ask me, that seems more logical,” Watkins deliberately concluded.
Aggravated, Zane bit back a few choice retorts. Instead, he said evenly, “I was in an entirely different section of the house when my stepfather was taken.”
Watkins asked dubiously, “Can anyone verify that?”
Zane met the man’s eyes without any hesitation. “I was with my mother.”
“Your mother,” Watkins repeated with a smirk. “Sure you want to go with that?”
“Why shouldn’t I?” Zane fired back. “It is the truth.”
Watkins’s short laugh told him what the sheriff thought of his alibi. “Well, throughout history, a lot of mamas have been known to lie for their sons. For instance, the mamas who were the wives of rich, powerful men. They often just looked the other way when their sons rid them of those men.” Watkins leaned closer over the table as if he were sharing some sort of deep, dark confidence. “You take that Emperor Nero’s mama as an example. Did you know Nero’s mama poisoned her husband so her boy Nero could become emperor?” Watkins asked, chuckling as he spoke.
For two cents, Zane would have been more than willing to tell the sheriff exactly what he thought of the man, but he knew it would do him no good, only harm. Zane was determined not to allow the man to goad him into losing his temper.
“Fascinating as that is, Sheriff,” Zane told him, “I do have another witness.”
The hell you do, boy.
Watkins clearly didn’t believe him as he asked, “And this witness just happened to conveniently pop up in your memory now?”
Zane ignored the sheriff’s mocking tone and continued telling him his alibi. “The family housekeeper, Moira, was there at the time, as well. You might recall the name, Sheriff. Moira was the first one to discover my father was missing after my mother had sent her to the master suite to wake him up. It was Moira’s screams that alerted everyone else to the crime.” And then Zane restated his location. “I was nowhere near that side of the house when my father was taken.”
Unfazed, the sheriff continued with his accusation. “You could have taken him earlier.”
Watkins wasn’t letting up. Zane was now convinced the sheriff was just trying to bait him and get him rattled. Rattled people said all sorts of incriminating things.
Zane continued to maintain his innocence.
“There was evidence that my stepfather fought his kidnapper. The room looked like a hurricane had hit it.” And then he homed in on the main thing that would back up his claim. “One of the things knocked over in the struggle was an heirloom clock. Its face was smashed and the time on it stopped at 7:30.” He remembered his sister pointing that out at the time. “At 7:30 I was sitting in the dining room, having coffee with my mother.”
Watkins made a dismissive noise. “That’s a nice little story.”
All right, he’d been polite. He’d been patient. But enough was enough, Zane thought. He wasn’t about to be bullied or browbeaten by Watkins any longer. The sheriff had fixated on him long enough. The man needed to turn his attention to catching the real kidnapper, not sit around, spinning fairy tales because it suited his purposes.
“Do you have any real evidence linking me to my stepfather’s disappearance, other than a cuff link I could have easily lost at any time?” Zane demanded. When Watkins made no response, other than to glare at him begrudgingly, Zane nodded his head in satisfaction. “I didn’t think so.”
