Colton Under Fire

by Cindy Dees

  Sloane paced the length of the conference room, turned and came back to stare up at Liam. “Darn it. I had a fantastic tongue-lashing all prepared for you. I was going to nuke you until you glowed.”

  Liam’s mouth twitched once, but he had the good sense to keep his voice grave when he replied, “I would have told you about the cameras immediately, but Chloe was so sick. I thought that took precedence.”

  “Well, hell. I was really looking forward to laying that speech on you. It was epic.”

  “You can still do it if you want the practice at delivering blistering rhetoric,” he offered gallantly.

  “No. It loses its punch if there’s no actual righteous anger behind it.”

  He nodded in commiseration. “As soon as Zog sends me that address in Denver, I assume you’ll want to know who lives there?”

  “Oh, hell to the yes.”

  “Listen, Sloane. This is an active police investigation. You’re a lawyer, so you know what that means. I need you to stay out of it and not get anywhere near the investigation, lest you taint the evidence.”

  She scowled. “I know the drill. But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

  He grimaced. “You do have a decision to make. Do you want me to have Zog pull the cameras out, or are you willing to let them ride for a little while so the Roaring Springs police can figure out who installed them in your house?”

  “Will you show me where they are?”

  “I will, but you have to promise not to walk right up to them and stare at them. You can’t do anything to tip off whoever’s watching you.”

  She stared at Liam in indecision. She hated the idea of anyone spying on her and Chloe. It made her skin crawl, honestly. It was such an invasion of privacy.

  Liam added, “There are no cameras in the bathrooms. I thoroughly checked both of those. You don’t have to worry about that.”

  “How long do you need these cameras in place?”

  “Only as long as it takes us to figure out who planted them. We’ll grab that joker and squeeze him until he tells us why the cameras were installed.”

  She added grimly, “I’m betting someone hired a Peeping Tom to spy on me.”

  “Any guesses as to who?”

  She looked up at him soberly. “Ivan’s the most obvious candidate, but his parents could be pushing him to do it. Which technically would make them co-conspirators.”

  “If they’re helping him in any way, they’re accomplices to his crime.”

  “But you don’t know for sure yet that it’s Ivan. There’s a chance it’s someone else.”

  “You tell me. Do you have any other enemies?”

  She shrugged. “I mostly succeeded in defending my clients. I got the innocent ones acquitted, and the cases I lost were due to guilty clients. But even they knew I fought for the fairest sentences I could get for them. Maybe a disgruntled family member of a client who expected me to free their loved one?”

  “It’s a stretch.”

  “It doesn’t feel right to me, either. I haven’t been in court since Chloe was born. I confined myself to research and reviewing cases for other lawyers in the firm after she came along. Anyone I’ve ticked off in court has had over two years to get even with me, so it makes no sense why they would have waited so long to exact their revenge.”

  Liam nodded. “I’ve done a little digging into your ex-husband already. He doesn’t exactly come across as a lily-pure, all-American boy.”

  “He’s a real piece of work, isn’t he?”

  “He’s something.”

  Liam didn’t know the half of it. She filled him in. “When we divorced, Ivan paid a psychologist to testify that I wasn’t a fit mother because I continued to work as an attorney after Chloe was born. Never mind that I dropped my hours from sixty to twenty a week, employed a part-time nanny and spent several hours with Chloe every day.” She added bitterly, “Unlike him. He barely touched Chloe and never spent more than a few minutes in the same room with her. He resented her and made no secret of it. But that didn’t stop him from pulling strings to maneuver our custody case onto the docket of a notoriously pro-father, anti-working-mother judge, too.”

  She paced the conference room, worked up even thinking about the custody fight. “When it became clear that the judge, who is known for ruling against mothers in custody cases, was actually considering giving custody of Chloe to Ivan, I showed Ivan the evidence a private investigator had gathered for me of Ivan’s extracurricular activities.”

  Liam frowned. “How angry was he?”

  “Apoplectic. Mind you, I never showed any of it to the judge. Just to Ivan. I reminded him that if I entered the pictures and receipts into evidence, they would become a matter of public record, and his parents and the partners in his law firm would see them, too.”

  “Is that when he withdrew his demand for custody?” Liam asked.

  Sloane nodded. “I didn’t like blackmailing him like that. But it’s Chloe. And he has the parental instincts of a spoon. I couldn’t risk playing fair.”

  “You didn’t play unfair. Legally, you were well within your rights to produce evidence proving his lack of character and unfitness to be a parent. You showed admirable restraint in not ruining him.”

  Sloane smiled a little as if, for the first time, the weight of her guilt at blackmailing Ivan lifted a little. “Let’s just say Ivan doesn’t see it that way.”

  Liam snorted. “I’m sure he doesn’t.”

  “He did accuse me of not ruining his job so he can continue to pay fat child support checks to Chloe.”

  Liam rolled his eyes. “He wanted to have his cake and eat it, too. He wanted a great wife and an adorable kid...and he wanted his sidepiece women and gambling and partying.” A muscle ticked in his jaw. “But that’s not how life works. A guy earns a great family, and a guy lucky enough to have one damned well works at taking care of it.”

  “Huh. I never thought of it like that.”

  “You undervalue yourself, Sloane. You always have.”

  She frowned up at Liam, and he drove the point home. “You’re an amazing woman, and any guy would be lucky to have you. Trust me, you deserve a whole lot better than what Ivan Durant dished out to you.”

  A flush rose to her cheeks. “Thanks,” she mumbled.

  “So. About those cameras. What’s your preference?”

  “My preference is for them to be gone. But I can live with them for a little while if it helps your investigation.”

  Liam nodded. “Good for you. If you get crazy living in a fishbowl, give me a shout. I’ll come rescue you.”

  It seemed like every time she turned around these days, Liam Kastor was rescuing her from one predicament or another. If she wasn’t careful, she was going to drive him away. He so wasn’t a drama kind of guy. If only her life could be the same.

  * * *

  Liam watched Sloane’s slender back retreat across the police station and sank into his chair in relief when she disappeared outside. Whoa. That had been a close call. If she hadn’t listened to him, hadn’t let him explain about the cameras, that could’ve been a big-time mess. Thank God she’d proven to be reasonable.

  But then, she’d always been a reasonable person. She wasn’t quick to leap to conclusions, and she was thoughtful before forming opinions. But once she made up her mind, she didn’t hesitate to pull the trigger.

  He glanced down at the picture lying on his desk of Ruth Thomas’s daughter, April. The young woman not only looked a lot like the recent murder victim, but she also looked a bit like Sloane.

  Slender, fair, dark-haired, doe-eyed, attractive—

  He swore under his breath. What if there was a connection between Bianca Rouge’s murder and this girl’s disappearance? Did that mean Sloane was in danger, too?

  As a hum of panic started low in his gut, he tamped it down.
Hard. He was a cop. He dealt in facts. If there was a connection, he would find it and follow it back to the killer.

  April Thomas had been missing for a year. Which made for a cold, difficult trail to follow. It also didn’t bode well for a happy outcome to this search. Too many young, beautiful women were snatched into the sex trafficking trade, or into the drug world, and never heard from again. He hoped against hope that April’s story wouldn’t end tragically. But his gut told him to prepare for the worst case scenario.

  He picked up the phone and called Deputy Sheriff Daria Bloom. “Hey, Daria. It’s Liam Kastor. Any chance I could interest you in a cup of coffee?”

  “Is this business or a date?”

  He grinned. “Sorry. It’s work.”

  “Then I’ll leave my dancing shoes in my closet. I’ll meet you at the No Doze Café in, say, a half hour?”

  “Perfect. See you then.”

  The No Doze was just down the street, so Liam spent the time compiling a quick missing person’s report on April Thomas. She was already in the national database of missing persons, but he put together a quick dossier with her picture in it to distribute to local law enforcement officials.

  He still had a few minutes before the meeting, so he typed in the address that Zog had texted him of where the surveillances images were being sent. It was in the eastern suburbs of Denver. A property rental company was listed as owning the place. Liam dialed the company’s phone number.

  “This is Detective Kastor with the Roaring Springs Police Department. Can you tell me who’s renting the house your company manages on San Marcos Street in Denver?”

  A bored-sounding young man replied, “We don’t release any information on our renters.”

  “I’m calling on official police business.”

  “Sorry, bro. No can do.”

  Liam ground his molars together. Fine. He’d get a freaking warrant and take personal pleasure in shoving it down this kid’s throat. Or maybe up another body orifice. “What’s the street address of your office?”

  “Why do you want to know?” the kid asked suspiciously.

  Liam answered with scant patience, “So I know where to deliver the warrant I’m going to get that forces you to tell me who’s renting that house.”

  “Oh. Shit. Well, uh, gimme a sec. San Marcos Street, you said?”

  “Correct.”

  The sounds of shuffling and the squeak of a metal drawer opening and closing sounded over the phone. Then the kid was back. “Says here a company rents it. It’s called DFE Holdings.”

  “Does the rental contract have a signature on it?”

  “Yeah, but I can’t read it. I mean, it’s basically a squiggle.”

  “Is there a phone number? An address?”

  “Yeah.” The young man read off a phone number and a post office box in a Denver suburb.

  “Thanks for the help,” Liam replied as he finished writing down the information.

  “Does this mean you won’t be showing up with a warrant?”

  “Correct.”

  “Whew. Awesome, man.”

  Liam grinned at his phone as he disconnected. He was going to be late to the diner, but he couldn’t resist trying the DFE Holdings phone number right now.

  An electronic tone sounded in his ear, then an automated female voice announced that the phone number he’d dialed was not in service.

  No surprise there. When he got back to the office, he would run the name DFE Holdings. Ten to one it would turn out to be a shell company registered someplace that did not require any disclosure of information regarding the firm’s owners or principal officers.

  Looked like he was going to have to head for Denver to check out the house for himself. Which would also give him a chance to chat with the missing persons folks in Denver who’d dealt with April Thomas’s case.

  He grabbed his coat and jogged down the street to the No Doze Café.

  Daria, a strikingly beautiful, African American woman, with black hair and razor-sharp intelligence, had already ordered a coffee and was sipping from a mug appreciatively. He ordered a cup of black coffee at the counter and then slid into the chair opposite her.

  “What’s up, Detective?” She was an astute woman and knew he wouldn’t bug her in the middle of both of their workdays unless he had something important for her.

  He passed her a copy of the photograph of April Thomas. “A mother came to my office this morning, looking for her daughter. This young woman’s been missing for the past year. Last known destination, Roaring Springs. Look like anyone we both know?”

  Daria swore quietly as she stared down at the picture. “I have to make a call.”

  Liam waited while she quickly filled in her boss, Sheriff Trey Colton.

  Daria ended the call and then leaned forward, speaking very quietly for his ears alone. “I’ve never been entirely convinced that Nolan Sharpe strangled Bianca Rouge.”

  “Why not?” Liam asked, startled. “I thought Sharpe left a note taking credit for the murder.”

  “He did. Except it’s too pat having some low-level thug, who’s never done anything close to murder, up and claim responsibility for a crime like that in a suicide note.”

  “Then why do you think Sharpe confessed?” Liam asked.

  Daria shrugged. “Maybe he wanted some postmortem notoriety. Or maybe someone paid him to confess. Or maybe he didn’t write the note at all. I was never able to make a handwriting match between the note and any other known samples of his writing. At this point, I’m not even certain he committed suicide. There’s just not enough evidence to lock down anything in the Rouge murder or the Sharpe suicide.”

  “But the cases were declared closed.”

  “Russ Colton declared the cases closed and was public enough in doing it that Trey couldn’t exactly come out and openly disagree with him.”

  Trey was one of the Colton cousins and had recused himself from the Bianca Rouge murder investigation because the body had been found on his cousin’s ranch. Tough call, but the right one to make. Liam mentally winced a little. He was treading perilously close to the edge of an ethics problem himself by investigating Sloane’s ex-husband, given his personal feelings for her.

  The café door opened, and a tall figure in uniform filled the doorway. Trey Colton, in the flesh.

  “That was fast,” Daria commented.

  “I happened to be in the area,” Trey commented, sliding into the chair beside his deputy. “I hear you’ve got some information for us on the Rouge murder.”

  “I’ve picked up a missing persons case that may be linked,” Liam replied.

  “That would make it my department’s case, then,” Trey responded.

  “No, it wouldn’t. Your department shut down the Rouge murder investigation. I had a mother walk in my door today asking me to help find her daughter. My case.”

  Trey glared at Liam, who glared back. They’d known each other long enough that they didn’t stand on professional ceremony.

  Liam finally broke the stalemate by murmuring, “Look at it this way. If you let the Roaring Springs PD handle the Thomas disappearance, it diffuses the heat Russ Colton can lay on you. He’ll have to come after us, too. Besides, our two agencies can pool resources and cover more ground this way. I’ll have an excuse to poke around at the Rouge murder, and you guys can poke around at the Thomas disappearance.”

  Trey hesitated a moment more and then nodded. “Deal. But Daria keeps the lead on the Rouge murder.”

  “Absolutely,” Liam answered firmly.

  “Is that April Thomas?” Trey asked, gesturing at the photograph lying between them.

  “Yup. Looks like Bianca, doesn’t she?” Liam answered grimly.

  “Yeah,” Trey replied equally grimly. “I think I interrupted you when I sat down. What were you saying?”

 
Liam circled back to the earlier discussion with Daria. “If someone killed Sharpe and left a note fingering him for Bianca’s murder, that person could be Bianca’s actual killer. We could be looking at a perpetrator of multiple homicides.”

  “Worse than that,” Daria murmured. “We could be looking at a serial killer.”

  All of their gazes snapped down to the picture of young, pretty April Thomas lying between them. The resemblance between her and the murdered girl found on Wyatt’s ranch really was striking.

  Daria added, “And we may have just figured out what our serial killer’s preferred victims look like.”

  Liam’s gut felt heavy. This was exactly the kind of case he’d spent his whole career preparing for, but now that it was here, all he felt was dread. Not dread that he wasn’t up to the challenge. Rather, dread that more pretty brunette girls were going to die before they could catch this killer. There was nothing at all exciting in that knowledge. This case was going to be a grim race against time and death. None of his crime investigations books had talked about that.

  Worse, Sloane was a slender, pretty brunette with big dark eyes and long brown hair. And that panicked him outright.

  He reminded himself hastily that so were a half-dozen other women he could think of in Roaring Springs off the top of his head. They were all in danger. Not just Sloane.

  He muttered, “Should we put out some kind of warning for young women who match the general description of Bianca and April to be cautious?”

  Daria looked at Trey, who told her, “I recused myself from this case. That’s your call.”

  Daria bit her lip, thinking. She looked at Liam reluctantly, her dark eyes even darker than usual. “Before we go public, we’re going to need more evidence than a missing girl who happens to look like a victim of a supposedly solved murder. The Coltons would have a fit if we made some big announcement about a serial killer being on the loose and chased off all the tourists at the height of the ski season.”