by Elle James
Kayla settled into a chair and opened the menu. Dakota didn’t bother, declaring he wanted a hamburger, hold the onions.
As Kayla studied the menu, a chill slid across the back of her neck. She felt as if someone was watching her. She made a show of hanging her purse on the back of her chair so that she could turn just enough to look at the other patrons.
A man stood at the cashier’s counter, his back to the room. When he turned, Kayla recognized him as Andrew Stratford. His gaze met hers briefly, then he left the building without uttering a word to anyone.
In a booth in the far corner, Jillian Taylor glanced across at Kayla, smiled and waved. Across the table from her sat Lawrence Wilson, the man Kayla had met the night she’d had dinner at the B and B.
Wilson nodded an acknowledgment, then his attention returned to Jillian. He smiled with the charm of a salesman; Jillian smiled back, her eyes alight, clearly attracted to the man.
Kayla wasn’t familiar with any of the other customers in the café and none of them gave her any strange looks other than mild curiosity. She shrugged and looked at her menu, trying to relax.
For a few short hours that day at the cottage, she’d almost felt normal. Painting the portrait of Gabe had been cathartic, liberating, the first step toward replenishing her creative well.
But her conversation with Andrew Stratford and his confession that he’d been at the gallery exhibit the night she’d been attacked had thrown her back to square one of her attempt to conquer her fear.
Now she sat in a diner full of people, and she had no reason to be so anxious.
Or did she?
Chapter 13
Gabe tried Lawrence Wilson’s hotel room, but didn’t find him there. After reporting in to the police department and kicking off a computer scan through the databases for any information on Andrew Stratford, he stopped by to have a word with the boss.
He marched into Chief Taggert’s office. “Anything from the DMV database on Wilson?”
“Got a match on one Lawrence Wilson in Portland, but no priors.” The chief pulled up the license photo. The picture matched the man he’d met at the B and B the night before last.
“That’s him.” Gabe shrugged. “So, he told the truth about being from Portland. Although Portland is only a few hours away from Seattle. He could have been the man who attacked Kayla that night at the gallery. You say he checks out clean?”
The chief nodded. “Not even a traffic fine. Funny thing is that I did a scan on Lawrence Wilson in the state of Washington at the same time as I did one in Oregon, and look what I found.”
Gabe leaned over Chief Taggert’s shoulder and stared down at the screen as the chief brought up another photo.
The same Lawrence Wilson stared back at him with a completely different address in Seattle.
Gabe’s gut tightened. “You aren’t supposed to hold a regular motor vehicle license in more than one state.”
“That’s the theory. Could be a glitch in the system. The Portland license is newer than the Seattle license. He could have applied and the old one wasn’t withdrawn.”
“Yeah, but it’s worth asking Mr. Wilson about it.”
“Agreed,” Chief Taggert looked up. “What did you learn from Mr. Stratford?”
“Not much. He claimed he didn’t walk as far as the lighthouse two nights ago. Said the fog was too thick, and that he didn’t hear a thing.”
The chief clicked his pen open and closed. “Doesn’t mean he didn’t.”
“True, but what else do we have to go on?”
“Nothing so far.” Taggert clicked the pen again and set it on the desktop. “Could sure use more evidence.”
“Anything on the ski mask?” Gabe asked.
“Not yet. I was just about to call the crime lab.”
“I’m going to find Wilson and see what I can learn from him.”
“You do that. Seems I saw him driving around town with Jillian Taylor. Being that it’s lunchtime, they might have stopped for a bite.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” First, he wanted to check his voice mail and see if he had any responses from the detectives on the earlier cases.
“Don’t forget, the FBI agent is scheduled to show up later today, as long as his flight isn’t delayed. Make yourself available, will ya?”
“I will.” Gabe sighed. Another long day after a sleepless night at Kayla’s. This case had him strung tighter than a violin bow.
The first message on his answering machine was a crank call. The second and third were hang-ups. The fourth caller identified himself as Detective Bryant from Bellingham, Washington. “I’m in the office today. Call me.” The fifth message was from a Portland police detective, also asking him to call.
Gabe jerked the phone from its receiver and punched in the Bellingham detective’s number, glancing at the clock over the watercooler. Lunchtime. What were the odds the guy was eating at his desk?
After the third ring, Gabe started to hang up, when a voice barked over the line, “Bryant speaking.”
Gabe told the man who he was and described the murder in Cape Churn.
“Sounds a lot like our case. The man didn’t leave anything in the way of evidence or witnesses. The victim had stepped out her back door to let her dog out when she was abducted and murdered. No one saw it happen. It’s been a cold case for the past six months. Hope you find more than we did.”
“Any persons of interest that you questioned?”
“A homeless man and a businessman who’d been jogging in the park while visiting the area.”
Gabe sat forward. “Businessman? What was his name? What did he look like?”
“Let me check.” A long pause ensued. “Les Williams. He checked out clean. No outstanding warrants or abuse charges.”
“Any other leads?”
“The victim’s sister said that she’d been getting prank phone calls, threatening letters, and someone had been in her house rearranging her jewelry. She said the victim had been afraid to go far from her house because of all the creepy things happening to her.”
The same scenario Kayla now lived. Gabe sank back against his chair, his gut knotting. He’d known the cases were similar, but actually hearing the details from someone else made it even more frightening. Even with this detective’s description, he felt as though they were no further along than when he’d lifted the phone. “Thanks, Detective Bryant.”
“If you learn anything new, let us know. The woman who died was the daughter of a state senator. They still have an outstanding reward out for the arrest and conviction of the murderer.”
“I’ll let you know.” Gabe hung up, scrubbed his hand through his hair and punched the buttons for the Portland police detective.
Expecting a similar outcome, Gabe rolled a pencil across the pad in front of him, his foot tapping the ground between rings.
“Yeah,” a voice answered.
“Detective Stanley?”
“That’s me.” Abrupt was the best way to describe the man’s response.
Gabe went through the same description he’d given the Bellingham police detective and got less for his effort. No one had seen anything. The woman had been walking from her building to her car when she’d been abducted and murdered.
“Any DNA evidence?”
“No. The victim was clean. We questioned her ex-boyfriend, but his alibi checked out, even had a witness to back him up.”
The Portland case had been the first in the string of red-haired murders six months prior to the one in Cape Churn.
“What’s the ex-boyfriend’s name?” Gabe asked.
“Rick Watson.”
Gabe scribbled the name on the pad, thanked the detective, and promised to pass on any in
formation he might come up with. For now, he had very little to go on.
He booted his computer and logged into the Department of Motor Vehicles in the state of Washington. He keyed in Les Williams and waited for the photo identification to pop up. When it did, he didn’t recognize the face. The photo itself wasn’t the best quality, blurred just enough to be a problem.
The man in the picture had a neatly trimmed, close-cropped beard and a mustache, and his hair was combed straight back. The description read: hair brown, eyes hazel, height seventy-two inches. Nondescript enough for Gabe to be uncertain if he’d seen him before or not.
Moving on to the case in Portland, he looked up Rick Watson and found a man with dark brown hair hanging over his forehead and down to his collar in the back. He had light brown eyes and stood five feet eleven inches tall. He sported a long mustache but no beard and he wore a diamond stud earring in his right ear.
Gabe ran a scan through the computer for any arrests. One complaint had been filed against him by a former girlfriend, claiming he had tried to choke her when she turned down his marriage proposal. The charge had been dropped before the case made it to court due to death of the alleged victim. The girl ran out into the street and was hit by oncoming traffic a week before the hearing. She’d died instantly.
Knowing he might be grasping at straws, Gabe picked up the phone and dialed Detective Bryant again.
“Bryant.”
“This is Officer McGregor. Do you happen to have the address of next of kin for Rick Watson in your file?”
“Let me look.” A moment later, Detective Bryant was back. “His only living relative is his mother, who lives in Portland. Martha Watson. But she was no help in the investigation. She didn’t know anything.”
“Thanks. I appreciate the information.” Gabe hung up, tapping his pencil next to Martha Watson’s name. On impulse, Gabe enlarged and printed the driver’s-license photos for Rick Watson, Les Williams and Lawrence Wilson, cutting out the rest of the license information. He stacked them in a neat pile and picked up the phone again.
Five minutes later, he had an appointment with Martha later that afternoon in Portland, an hour-and-a-half drive from Cape Churn.
He might be chasing his tail, but he had to do something. In the meantime, he wanted to find Lawrence Wilson for questioning, then check on Kayla.
Gabe’s groin tightened at the thought of Kayla. The more he saw her, the more he wanted to see her. But he wanted to see her without fear in her beautiful green eyes. And damn it, he would, if it was the last thing he did.
Gabe popped into the chief’s office and told him that he’d miss the special agent’s arrival and explained why.
Taggert waved him away. “I got it covered. Just go.”
When Gabe turned to do just that, the chief hailed him. “Gabe?”
“Yes, sir.” He leaned back in the doorway.
“I take it you’ll be pulling bodyguard duty at the lighthouse cottage tonight?”
“As soon as I get back to Cape Churn. I shouldn’t be later than dinnertime.”
“Good luck.”
“Thanks.” Gabe changed into civilian clothing, left his cruiser at the station and drove through town in his SUV searching for Lawrence Wilson, on the off chance he’d catch sight of the man. When he didn’t find him, he stopped at Jillian’s real-estate office, where her secretary said the last time she got word from Jillian, she was out showing properties to the man.
They could be almost anywhere and Gabe needed to get on the road. But not before he saw Kayla and made certain she was safe while he went to Portland. He punched in the number for the B and B. Molly answered on the third ring.
“Let me speak with Kayla,” Gabe said without preamble.
“She left this morning to go back to the cottage. She said she’d call you and let you know. Guess she didn’t,” Molly said. “Dakota went over a little later. Haven’t heard from either one since.”
Gabe sucked in a deep breath and let it out, willing his heart rate to remain natural. The thought of Kayla alone at the cottage made him nervous, even though the killer had limited his assaults to the night. The lighthouse cottage had no other houses close by, which meant anything could happen and no one would know until it was too late. Dakota being there wasn’t much more of a relief, considering he was just a boy. Having him there might scare off the murderer by simple safety in numbers, but there was no guarantee. Instead of feeling better, Gabe felt worse. He loved his son and didn’t want him hurt standing in the way of a killer.
Gabe stepped on the accelerator and headed south out of town toward the lighthouse, his pulse increasing with the speed of the vehicle.
He took the turn into the lighthouse driveway too fast, skidding sideways on the gravel. Calm down. Everything would be just fine.
Kayla’s SUV wasn’t parked in front of the house. Dakota’s bicycle leaned on its kickstand near the porch. At least he was with Kayla, wherever that could be.
Gabe checked the door, noting the fresh paint. He jiggled the handle, testing the dead bolt. After circling the cottage and peering into the windows, he concluded she’d probably taken Dakota to town. Pulling out his cell phone, he dialed her number. After a moment, he could hear the sound of a phone ringing from inside the house. Gabe shook his head. Kayla had gone off without her phone.
He didn’t like not knowing where she was, but the woman had a mind of her own and most likely didn’t like being housebound.
A smile curled Gabe’s lips. Kayla might be the target of a killer, but she had the guts and chutzpah to carry on with her life. He liked that about her. The woman had spunk.
Ever since he’d walked out on her the night before, he’d regretted leaving. In his heart, he knew Kayla deserved someone who loved her completely, with nothing held back. And deep down, he wanted to love her like that. But was he capable of letting down his guard so completely?
If he was honest with himself, he’d have to admit Kayla scared him. She might be the one he could allow past his guard and into his heart, something Gabe had vowed to never let happen again.
Between Dakota and the red-haired artist, Gabe had started to want things he hadn’t dared to want for a very long time. A house, home and family he could love forever.
He couldn’t wait to see her again. He needed to apologize, to tell her he’d been wrong. And what? That he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her? That he was willing to let a woman past the wall he’d built since Siena?
His hands tightened on the steering wheel. He’d only known her a couple days. How could these feelings be real?
Back in town, Gabe found Kayla’s SUV at the Seaside Café. The tension in his chest loosened as he pulled in to the parking lot. At that moment Kayla exited the café, followed by Dakota.
A light sea breeze caught her green, gold and brown broom skirt, whipping the fabric around her calves, molding it to the curve of her thighs. When she caught sight of Gabe, her face lit with a smile.
Gabe’s heart tripped and raced. How did she do that? How did she make him feel like a teenage boy all over again?
Her lips tipped downward and she spoke before he had a chance. “I know you wanted me to stay at the B and B, but I needed to get back to the cottage.”
Dakota jumped in. “Gabe, you should see the painting—”
“We’re working on during our lesson. It’s coming along beautifully,” Kayla finished for the boy, placing a hand on his son’s arm. “Dakota’s got talent.”
Dakota’s face flushed red and he kicked at the loose gravel in the parking lot. “I’ve got a long way to go before I’m as good as Kayla.”
“We all have to start somewhere.” Gabe wanted to say so much more, but now wasn’t the time. He could see the boy was taken with Kayla and understood why.
She was real, down-to-earth and full of warmth. “Thanks for taking the time to teach him.”
“I should be thanking him for keeping me company.” Kayla hooked her arm through Dakota’s. “You’ve got a great kid.”
Gabe found himself jealous of how close Kayla was to his own son, but he smiled, glad Dakota had found a productive use of his time. “He never ceases to amaze me. I only wish I’d known him sooner.”
“Uh, guys…I’m here, you know. You don’t have to talk like I’m not.” Dakota pulled free of Kayla’s arm and headed for her SUV. “I’ll be in the car.”
Kayla’s gaze followed Dakota, her hand rising to her belly. “He really is a good kid. You’re very lucky.”
“How are you feeling? The baby giving you any troubles?”
She shook her head. “No. I’m the one who’s been giving the baby troubles. All the anxiety and worry can’t be good for her.”
Gabe smiled. “So you know it’s a girl?” His heart swelled with the thought of Kayla holding a baby girl with auburn hair and green eyes just like her mother.
Kayla laughed. “No, I don’t go for the sonogram for another two weeks. I just feel like it’s a girl. I could be totally wrong.”
“She’ll be beautiful just like her mother.” Gabe reached out and pushed a stray hair off Kayla’s cheek.
She looked up at him, her eyes clear, her lips parted slightly.
Gabe had the strongest urge to kiss Kayla, there in the parking lot, in front of God and Cape Churn. His hand dropped to his side and he cleared his throat. “I have to go to Portland this afternoon. I won’t be back until late. I’d rather you stayed at the B and B until I get back.”
Her brow furrowed. “I want to go back to the cottage and paint while there’s daylight.”
Gabe glanced at the sky. Sunlight shone down on them, but in the distance clouds gathered. “There’s supposed to be a storm later on, just like last night.”
“I’ll only stay as long as there’s good lighting. Then I’ll pack it in and head for the B and B.”