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Taking exam. Can’t talk.
He was at school. She wiped her eyes and pulled in long, thankful breaths. Everything was fine. Ryan was safe. She was safe. All she had to do now was switch the vehicles and report everything she’d seen last night to Cole Garrett.
No problem.
The drive though the campus was steeped in nostalgia. Fall was in the air. Mums were in bloom. Even the leafy green trees had begun to change into their pretty fall uniforms. Rita had made memories to last a lifetime on those same streets not too long ago.
Students filled the corners near streetlamps, watching the lights, waiting to cross. Probably headed to class or on another adventure they’d miss dearly someday too soon. College had been Rita’s only taste of freedom before becoming the surrogate parent to a grieving teenage brother just two months after graduation.
The main lot for student commuters was nearly full. She circled twice before spotting her truck among a pack of even larger pickups. She pulled Ryan’s car into an empty spot several spaces away and tucked his keys under the floor mat. Much as she hated to interrupt him again, especially knowing he was trying to take an exam, she sent a text to let him know his car was there and her truck was off-limits for the day.
Your car is in the lot with my truck. DO NOT take my truck. I’ll be back for it. Meeting a friend.
She frowned at the little screen and sent a happier follow-up.
Good luck on your tests!
Rita pocketed the phone and kneaded her shaky hands, then fumbled Deputy Garrett’s card into her grip. The sooner she unloaded the truth about what she thought she’d seen last night, and the possible murder evidence from her bag, the sooner she’d feel like herself again.
She double-checked for anyone who looked as if they might be following her, then began the trek across the giant lot toward a busier portion of campus. “Here goes nothing,” she whispered, bringing the phone into view and tapping the numbers against her screen.
COLE LEFT HIS cruiser in the middle of the road beside West’s and jogged around a line of news vans and local reporters. Crime scene officials tramped the soggy ground near the body recovery site, and a woman in a county coroner’s office jacket picked through the area blocked off by yellow tape.
Cole had lost track of the fancy black car after leaving Rita Horn’s place, but something in his gut told him the vehicle was significant. The timing of its appearance and haste of its departure were undeniably suspect, and given the break-in, Cole sensed a connection. Maybe Rita had been holding back about who could’ve wrecked her place, and maybe that certain someone owned a late-model black sedan. His hands curled into fists at his sides. The idea of someone intending her harm knotted his muscles and tightened his jaw.
West caught Cole’s arrival and left the quarantined area with an expectant look. “Everything okay with the house? Was it a B and E or false alarm?”
“B and E,” Cole grouched. He rubbed the back of his neck and rolled his shoulders, attempting and failing to dislodge the mound of frustration piling there. “It was Rita Horn’s place.”
West rocked back on his heels with a grin. “That so?”
“Yeah. You know her?”
West smiled. “I believe I do. That’s the redhead from the courthouse?”
Cole worked his jaw, unimpressed that his older brother knew Rita existed. Not that he was in the market for a date. West already had a stunning wife, a toddler and a new baby on the way. And he wasn’t the sort to have a wandering eye. Still, the conspiratorial look on his face was starting to tick Cole off.
“How well do you know her?” He had three brothers, and they were all known for their ability to get women into bed with a wink and a smile.
“Are you kidding?” West cocked a hip and crossed his arms. “Isn’t she the one you used to talk about all the time?”
Cole shot his brother a droll look. “I mentioned her once, months ago, and I didn’t know her name. I’d hardly call that ‘all the time.’”
“Compared to the vast number of other women you never mention, once is a lot. Did you get her number?”
“Yeah. From Dispatch, but she didn’t answer.”
West barked a laugh and shook his head. “All right. If you’re here, then everything must be fine there. So let’s figure this one out.” West led the way back to the river where the fog hovered like an apparition over the swollen waters, muting the view of a busy college town across the way.
“We know the victim’s name was Roger Minsk.” West pulled a notebook from his coat pocket and flipped the pages.
“Never heard of him.”
“He hasn’t been in town long. According to county records, he bought a big house upriver this summer. The maid called the station to report him missing three days ago. I haven’t had time to follow up.” He furrowed his brow. “She said he was a businessman who traveled.”
Cole shook his head. “No one’s blaming this on you. He’s a grown man. With a maid.” His nose wrinkled as the information settled in. Not a lot of folks in Shadow Point kept maids, even if they could afford it. “Who does that?”
West dropped his attention back to the notepad. “Well, this guy, for starters. She didn’t have access to his calendar or contacts, so I wasn’t in a hurry to worry. I knocked on his door that night and again yesterday. No answer. He was on our list of things to look into if he didn’t show up by today. I was hoping he was on vacation.”
“Did the maid say anything else?”
“She said she cleans for Minsk twice a week and nothing had changed since the last time she’d been there. It didn’t look as if he’d slept in his bed the night before.”
“So we don’t know when he went missing, but we have a window.”
West nodded. “The medical examiner will get us a time of death. I’d say we know the cause.”
Right. The gunshot wound to the head was hard to miss. Cole turned back toward his cruiser. “I’ll visit the maid, see what I can find out about the victim, then report back. Maybe I can even get her to let me into his place. Two birds.”
“Yep.” West agreed. “Do it. I’ll be here if you need me. Don’t forget to check in. We don’t know who we’re looking for or what this is about, and I don’t like it.”
Cole waved a hand overhead, making good time across the empty field, a list of questions for the maid solidifying in his mind.
“Deputy?” West called from the growing distance between them.
“Yeah?” Cole pivoted on his next step, for a look back at his brother, still standing sentinel at the river. He lifted his chin in question.
“Do me a favor and check in on Miss Horn while you’re out. See if she needs anything.”
“Yep.”
West raised one arm in his direction. “Maybe dinner and a movie.”
Cole turned away with a smile. “I’m keeping it professional,” he called over one shoulder.
Not like West and his wife. They’d reunited last year after a decade apart. One minute, she was involved in a crime spree, and the next thing Cole knew, he was standing witness in a rented tuxedo as the two said their vows.
Pass. Cole wanted all those things one day, but he had a lot of other things he wanted to do first. Find out who tossed that man in the river, for example.
He waved off a renegade reporter headed his way. “No comment.” And ducked behind the wheel of his cruiser. This was what held Cole’s interest. A puzzle. A mystery. Protecting the peace. These were the things that kept him up at night and got him out of bed in the morning.
He pulled slowly away from the crime scene, taking note of the smattering of faces in the gathering crowd. Had one of them seen something they weren’t willing to divulge? Had they been around last night, feeding cats and playing unwitting witness to murder? If his theory was right about another person being present, he could only hope they wouldn’t wash up on the riverbank like Roger Minsk.
Cole’s phone buzzed against his ribs, pulling his attention away from the crowd. He freed it from his inside jacket pocket. Rita Horn’s number lit the little screen. “Deputy Garrett,” he answered, already pointing his car in the direction of her home. A rush of anxiety tightened his grip. If she was in trouble...
“Hi, um, this is Rita Horn. From this morning. I had the ransacked house.”
An easy smile curved his lips. She was okay. His foot eased back on the gas. “I remember. How’s the lock working out?”
“Okay, I think. I’m not home, actually. I hoped we could talk somewhere in person.”
The background noise registered with him, then dozens of voices and...
“Is that a marching band?”
“Uh. I think. I can’t see it from here, but it’s football season, so I guess. I’m at the college in Rivertown. Can you meet me at the library near the square? Do you know it?”
Cole took the next left toward the bridge over the river. “Sure. Can you tell me what’s going on?”
Wind crackled through the phone. Rita didn’t speak.
“Go on,” he urged. “You called for a reason. Let me have it.”
“Okay,” she began, then paused once more.
“Rita?”
“I was at the docks last night, and I think I’m being stalked by a murderer.”
Chapter Five (#ub3f5438b-1665-5899-846f-dd74f072bd4c)
Cole’s gut fisted. His fingers whitened on the steering wheel, and he rammed his foot against the gas pedal. Rita was the witness. She’d fed the cats. Of course she had. He shook his head as the cruiser raced across Memorial Bridge. Away from West and the crime scene. Directly toward the insanely captivating redhead who fed homeless cats and people, and raised a teenage brother when she was barely done being a teen herself. Toward a woman whose kind heart and good deeds had just gotten her into serious trouble.
If she was right about being followed, Cole had to reach her before the killer did.
Cole had no idea why Mr. Minsk was killed, but whatever had tainted his life should never have crossed paths with Rita Horn. Not now. Not ever.
Definitely not on Cole’s watch.
He eased his foot off the pedal as the small college town popped up around him with its spirit shops and mascot-logoed flags on every lamppost. The pounding of a marching band’s bass line thundered in the distance.
Hordes of distracted students took their sweet time jaywalking across the street in front of him, holding him up, keeping him from Rita. He tapped his thumbs against the wheel and considered using the siren, though it had no jurisdiction here. The water behind them had officially yielded his badge void. “Come on,” he growled, the fear in Rita’s voice still ringing in his ears.
The street cleared, and the light overhead turned red. “Dammit!”
Cole snatched his phone off the passenger seat where he’d tossed it and dialed West. He should’ve called him sooner. Told him about Rita’s confession. Asked where the library was. Now he was wasting precious time and growing unhappier by the second.
“Sheriff Garrett.” West answered on the first ring.
Cole rolled his eyes. “Hey. I’m over in Rivertown, meeting Rita. She called to tell me she was at the docks last night.”
The line was silent for a long beat before West cursed quietly under his breath. “She bought the cat food.”
“Looks like it. At least now we know why someone tossed her place this morning.” And why she’d been so on edge. It also explained why she’d left work feeling sick, but hadn’t looked it. “She thinks the killer’s stalking her.”
West swore again. Louder this time. “Why are you in Rivertown? Bring her to the station so we can talk.”
The light changed, and Cole inched into the intersection before another swarm of students could hold him up again. “I’m not clear on the why yet. She asked me to meet her at the library. I think her little brother is a student here. She could be checking up on him.”
“Was he with her last night?” West asked. “Did she tell you anything else?”
“No.” Cole scanned the crowded sidewalks. “Where is the library?” He could find it himself with a little more time. The campus wasn’t big, but time was something Cole didn’t have to spare. “I haven’t been here since high school. Were there always this many people?” He checked each passing face for the woman he longed to save, but she wasn’t among the crowds.
West gave him blow-by-blow directions to the center of campus.
A white marble fountain stood proudly outside the building marked Library, spraying crystal clear water into the cloudless blue sky. Cole took the last available parking spot and fed the meter a handful of quarters before jogging through the library’s front door.
RITA ORDERED A cup of hot tea and took a seat at the window inside a nearby café. The library had been uncomfortably silent and borderline terrifying. Not enough witnesses. She hadn’t been able to stay. Her imagination had wreaked havoc within seconds, and she’d darted back onto the crowded, familiar streets for a deep breath of air. A café with large window and view of the library seemed a smart compromise. From here, she’d see Cole’s arrival.
Rita pointed her chair at the window. Paranoia crawled over her skin like a thousand baby spiders. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she wasn’t safe, not even in another town. As if the bridge and river weren’t enough distance to protect her from whatever was happening. She inhaled the aroma of her drink and willed the sweet steam to ease her jangled nerves. She also tried closing her lids and counting to ten.
Nothing helped.
Rita let her gaze make quick and continuous loops around the square between sips, checking the street and sidewalks in both directions. So far, no sign of Cole Garrett or any other Cade County deputies.
Good, evil or otherwise.
A clutch of women in blue-and-white hoodies crossed the street, leaving a black sedan in clear view. The vehicle crept along the street outside, dark tinted windows staring back at her, and disappeared around the corner.
Rita worked to swallow the mouthful of suddenly tasteless tea before she choked on it. Sedans are common, she told herself.
Breathe. Relax. Deputy Garrett is on his way.
Wasn’t he? Her gaze jumped to the library entrance across the street. Where was he?
She pushed the teacup aside and leaned over the table on her elbows, stretching for a look in the direction the sedan had gone.
The little bell over the café’s front door jingled, setting her back on her seat. A man strode inside. Too old to be a student. Too casual for a professor. He locked gazes with her, and Rita tilted her head to take him in. There was something in his stride that sent her heart into a fresh sprint. He lifted his brows, and Rita spun in her chair, fixing her eyes on the library outside once more.
It’s not him. It’s not him, she chanted mentally.
Rita kept the silent refrain going, but couldn’t bring herself to believe the words. How could she be sure? She hadn’t seen either man’s face clearly last night, but the sedan had just rolled by... Rita peeked over her shoulder at the man, now poised at the counter.
The long angles of his arms and lean cut of his waist drew itchy memories over her skin. Was this the same man from her office earlier today? If so, what had happened to the deputy jacket?
The memory of hushed footfalls echoed in her mind, making her breaths shudder.
Her tummy rocked, and an uncomfortable sheen of sweat broke over her goose-pimpled skin. She wasn’t built for this kind of life. She’d made herself sick many times with worry, always about her brother’s well-being or the health and safety of others. She worried about homeless and injured animals, her fledgling garden and whether or not she’d left the iron on. Those were problems she could deal with. This...
She imagined the man at the counter in a bulky deputy’s jacket, marching her way, chasing her through the night. What if he approached her discreetly and pressed a gun to her back? Then tossed her in the trunk and drove her to the river?
Nope.
She gathered the straps of her bags with hasty fingers and slid, nearly fell, off her chair, but the packed-up laptop case caught on the table’s edge. “Sorry,” she apologized to no one in particular, before stumbling over the table leg and ramming her shoulder into the café door on her way out. Cole or no Cole, Rita couldn’t stay. She ducked her head against the number of stunned faces still inside the café, now watching her as she passed the window outside.
The newcomer’s eyes were narrow, and his lips were turned down. He made a move for the door, but Rita didn’t wait to see where he was headed.
Her flying heart carried her through knots and clusters of students on street corners and outside shops. She darted around a lamppost and into a bookstore she knew had a back exit that opened into a brick courtyard with a gate to an alley. She’d used them both many times during her four-year tenure in Rivertown, perpetually running late to class, often the result of a novel she couldn’t put down.
