Deadly Reckoning

by Elle James

  “Keep Dakota with you. If anything happens, you’ll have backup. He’s not a cop, but he can dial 911 just as well as anyone.”

  Kayla’s lips twisted. “You think he’ll want to stay and babysit a grown woman?”

  Gabe’s gaze moved to the boy in the SUV, plugged into his iPod with his head dipping to the beat of the music. “He’s happy as long as he has access to his tunes. I have to go. I’m following a lead on the case.”

  “Then by all means, go.” Kayla slipped her purse strap over her shoulder and started for her vehicle.

  Gabe fell in step beside her, opening the driver’s door for her. “Be careful and aware. I’ll be back as soon as possible.”

  She paused, her hand on the door, her gaze meeting his. “I will.” Then she leaned up on tiptoe and aimed a kiss for his cheek.

  At the last moment, Gabe turned his face, capturing her lips with his. His hands rose to her hips, pulling her close.

  She sighed, leaning into his body, her lips parting slightly.

  The kiss deepened, Gabe’s tongue sweeping past her teeth to slide alongside hers. She tasted sweet like apple pie and ice cream.

  “Seriously?” Dakota called out from inside the SUV. “Haven’t you two heard of the no PDA in public rule? It’s just not right.”

  Kayla pushed away from Gabe and dropped into the driver’s seat.

  Gabe held her door for a moment longer. He wanted more, but this wasn’t the time or the place. “We need to talk.”

  “Now?” she asked, her brows rising.

  “No, later.” On impulse, he leaned into the car and pressed another hard kiss to her mouth. “Stay safe.”

  Her hand rose to her lips. “I will.”

  Gabe bent to peer around Kayla. “Dakota, take care of her, will ya?”

  “Yeah, yeah. Just no kissing around me. Someone might see you.”

  “I’ll make a note of that.” Gabe shut the door and stepped back, his gaze following Kayla as she exited the parking lot and headed for the cottage.

  “I see how it is,” a laughing voice said behind Gabe.

  He turned to face Jillian Taylor where she stood on the sidewalk in front of the café.

  “No wonder you haven’t asked me out on a date.”

  Lawrence Wilson stood behind her, his lips thin, his eyes narrowed, then he smiled, though the smile seemed forced, his eyes hidden behind sunglasses. “I don’t blame the man. Ms. Davies is a very beautiful woman.”

  Jillian sighed. “Sure, if you prefer red-haired, petite women with boatloads of talent.” She slid her arm around Wilson’s elbow. “Are you ready to see the lighthouse property?”

  Wilson waved his hand. “Lead the way.”

  Jillian moved toward her car. Lawrence fell in step behind her.

  “Mr. Wilson, do you have a minute?” Gabe asked. He needed to get to Portland, but he also needed to talk to this man.

  “Why?”

  “I have a few questions I’d like to ask.”

  “Will it take long?” Wilson glanced toward Jillian.

  “No.”

  Wilson waved at Jillian. “Go on, I’ll meet you at your building when I’m through with Officer McGregor.”

  Jillian frowned, her gaze shooting from Lawrence to Gabe. “Is something wrong?”

  “No. Not at all.” Gabe hoped.

  Jillian’s ready smile returned. “Okay, then. I’ll see you in a few.”

  After the real-estate agent left, Gabe turned to Lawrence. “Mr. Wilson, I’m leading the investigation into the recent murder.”

  “Am I a suspect?” Wilson raised his hands. “If so, do I need an attorney?”

  “You can consult an attorney if you like, but right now, I just need to know where you were the night before last around midnight.”

  “I was asleep in my hotel room.”

  “Can someone at the hotel verify that?”

  “I walked by the night clerk on my way up around ten-thirty.”

  “Mr. Wilson, we ran your name through the Department of Motor Vehicles in Oregon to verify your address.”

  “Are you sure I’m not a suspect?”

  “Frankly, everyone around here is a suspect until we find Rachel Kendrick’s murderer.”

  Wilson nodded. “What about the DMV?”

  “And we also ran it through the DMV in Washington and discovered that you have an active driver’s license there as well. Can you explain that?”

  “How would I know? When I moved to Oregon, I got a new license. They must not have canceled the one in Washington.”

  “Mr. Wilson, can you tell me where you were two weeks ago?” Gabe gave him the date of Kayla’s assault and waited for the man’s response.

  “How the hell am I supposed to remember where I was two weeks ago? And what the hell does it have to do with the woman murdered here in Cape Churn? This is sounding more and more like I’m the subject of a witch hunt.” His mouth pressed into a tight line. “I’ll be glad to answer questions after I’ve contacted my attorney.”

  Gabe nodded. “You have that right.”

  “Does this line of questioning have anything to do with the attack on Ms. Davies?”

  Gabe’s body grew still. “What attack?” He hadn’t mentioned Kayla throughout the interchange and no one outside the police department and his immediate family knew of the connection to the murdered girl and Ms. Davies or the recent vandalism at the lighthouse cottage.

  “I listen to the news, I read the papers. Famous artist attacked after gallery showing. It was all over the newspapers a couple weeks ago. I recognized her from the pictures.”

  Gabe inhaled and let it out. His argument was a reach, but plausible. “Please notify your lawyer. I’ll be calling you in to sign a statement.”

  “Damn right I’m calling my lawyer.” Wilson stood straighter, his nostrils flaring. “Are you done?”

  “Until you contact that lawyer.” Gabe nodded. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Wilson.”

  Lawrence Wilson snorted and walked away.

  Gabe watched him as he climbed into his BMW and drove away.

  His gut told him Lawrence Wilson was one to watch. Gabe patted the photographs in his pocket, climbed into his cruiser and drove out of town, more determined than ever to find the murderer, and soon. If the killer thought Gabe was on to him, he might stop teasing and get serious about killing.

  Chapter 14

  Kayla hauled her easel and paints back out of the cottage and worked all afternoon. Painting Gabe had given her the courage and inspiration to move on to her contracted work.

  Jillian and Mr. Wilson had come, viewed the cottage and lighthouse and left, without bothering Kayla or Dakota.

  As Kayla worked, Dakota alternated between working on his painting, sitting on the porch, wandering around the cottage and napping on the sofa in the living room. Around four o’clock in the afternoon, he’d made several passes around the house, looking more and more caged with each lap.

  The constant movement distracted Kayla. Finally, she put down her paintbrush and palette and intercepted Dakota’s latest circle. “Go home, Dakota.”

  “Why? I thought you liked having me here.” His hurt, puppy-dog look almost made Kayla reconsider her request for him to leave.

  “I do like having you around, but you need to go. The more you move the less I paint.”

  He hunched his shoulders. “Sorry. I promise to sit still.”

  “No. I want you to go home. I figure I have about two more hours of daylight if the clouds don’t take over first. I’ll quit while there’s still plenty of light and be at the bed-and-breakfast before dark.”

  “But Gabe wanted me to watch out for you.”r />
  “And I’m telling you, I can manage on my own. No one is going to attack me during the daylight hours, and I’ll head over to the B and B before long, anyway.” She smiled. “Now, go.”

  Dakota’s brows dipped low. “Well, if you’re sure.”

  “Positive.”

  He kicked the stand and climbed onto his bike. “Call me if you need me.”

  “I will.” She smiled and waved as Dakota rode his bike down the driveway.

  Once he was out of sight, second thoughts plagued her. Alone at a remote cottage…

  She shivered and returned to her easel, determined to take up where she’d left off. “If I’m not going to let myself be afraid of shadows anymore, then I definitely shouldn’t be afraid of sunlight,” she informed her baby.

  At first the tremors slowed her down, but she thought about Gabe and the way she felt when he held her in his arms. Soon the shakes disappeared.

  The view drew her in, her hand flying over the palette and canvas, painting the dark, shadowy cliffs with the smoky clouds roiling in the distance, their edges gilded by sunlight. White-capped waves smashed against the base of the rock face, splashing upward in a breathtaking display of nature.

  Having completed the clouds, Kayla became so immersed in capturing the waves, she didn’t look up until wind buffeted the canvas, tipping the easel.

  She steadied the painting, and for the first time in hours noticed how stormy the skies had grown.

  Gathering her painting and palette, she hurried inside, making a return trip for the easel as the first drops of rain pelted the ground. Without much warning, the skies opened, dumping buckets of rain on her.

  By the time she reached the porch, she was soaked to the skin. Inside, she locked the door and stripped to her underwear to avoid trailing water through the house. She gathered her wet clothing, carried it to the laundry room and then ducked into the bathroom for a shower.

  As the warm water sluiced over her body, her thoughts drifted once more to Officer McGregor and that soul-stealing kiss outside the café. What had he meant by that kiss? Anything? And what could he possibly have to talk to her about? He’d made it clear he didn’t think being with her was a good idea.

  Hope filled her heart, and her body tingled all over in anticipation of his return. Her common sense argued that she had no business getting involved with Gabe when he was clearly not ready for a relationship. But if he was willing to give it a try… She certainly wasn’t going to say no out of hand. Lord knew, she had issues of her own. If he could be patient with hers, she could be patient with his—as long as he was willing to put in the effort.

  As she soaped her body, she couldn’t shut out the memory of Gabe’s laughing blue eyes and his warm, gentle hands. She recalled how it felt to have him apply the soap to her skin, to stand beneath the water with him, naked, their bodies raging with desire.

  Heat rose from her core, sending sizzling shocks of energy through her system. She hadn’t felt this way since…well, since the last time she and Gabe had made love.

  She tried to count off her raging desire to the increased hormones, but it wasn’t just that.

  Gabe was the kind of man every woman dreamed of. Kind and sexy, he was warm and caring, trying to create a life with a son he’d never known. Patient, tender, understanding, yet firm, he made a great father to the teen. How would he be with a newborn? Would he ever let a woman into his life long enough to marry and have more children? Could he accept another man’s child as his own? Was it fair of her to expect him to?

  Kayla turned down the heat on the water until it chilled her skin, dousing her inner burning. She might never find out. Just because he’d kissed her in the parking lot didn’t mean he’d changed his mind about making love to her again.

  The clock on her nightstand blinked a bright green seven o’clock. Gabe had said he’d be back late. With the rain pouring down, his travel time from Portland would lengthen considerably. Kayla strode to the picture window, the duct tape holding back the rain like a giant Band-Aid on the jagged glass.

  Rain slashed against the cottage as viciously as the night before. Kayla had no desire to venture out on the road and risk running her vehicle over a cliff. As dark and stormy as it was outside, that was a distinct possibility. Though she’d promised Gabe she’d head to the B and B, she knew he’d understand if she didn’t. Maybe the rain would slow down soon, and she could try driving then.

  Having showered and changed into clean, dry clothing, she didn’t want to go back out and get drenched all over again. Instead, she made a sandwich and sat at the table, wishing she had someone to talk to in order to pass the time until Gabe arrived. She called Molly and let her know she wasn’t going to get out in the rain, that she’d stay at the cottage until the weather cleared.

  Halfway through her sandwich, she picked up her plate and set it in the sink. The excitement of the previous night and the baby growing inside had sapped her energy. No longer hungry and too sleepy to care, she propped the painting of Gabe on the coffee table, blocking the view of the dark picture window. She lay on the sofa, drawing a light blanket over herself.

  Going to sleep might not be a good idea, but she’d gotten so little of it lately, surely just a few minutes of shut-eye before Gabe arrived wouldn’t put her in too much danger.

  With Gabe’s shining eyes watching over her, making her feel warm and safe, she drifted off to sleep.

  Gabe arrived in Portland well before the scheduled time to meet with Martha Watson, Rick Watson’s mother. He pulled to the side of the road and called the number the detective had given him for the sister of the first victim, Nancy Smith. He arranged for a place to meet and hung up with fifteen minutes to get across town in traffic.

  He arrived at the designated coffee shop and entered, expecting to find a woman with red hair. Instead, a brunette stood when he walked in the door.

  “Are you Officer McGregor?” The woman extended her hand. “I’m Briana Smith, Nancy’s sister.”

  “Thanks for meeting with me on such short notice.”

  “I’m just glad someone is working on the case. It’s been so long.” She waved toward a table with a cup of coffee sitting on it. “Have a seat.”

  “I apologize. I don’t have a lot of time. I just wanted to find out what you knew about your sister’s murder.”

  Briana’s eyes closed, her lips tightening. “She should still be alive today. If any of us had been paying attention, she would be. The signs were all there.”

  “You can’t undo the past or second-guess yourself. It’s self-defeating.”

  The brunette nodded. “I know all that. I just can’t help but think I could have done something to stop it.”

  “Tell me.”

  “About six weeks before…” Briana paused, swallowed hard and continued, “She started dating a guy from Tacoma, Washington. A long-distance relationship that seemed to be going well, until she got a promotion and her work demanded more of her time. When she realized the distance was going to be a problem, she broke it off with Rick—that’s his name, Rick Watson. The breakup was all nice and civil. The next week she started getting prank calls, graffiti on her apartment walls and car. The calls were from public places or untraceable phones.”

  “Did she report it to the police?”

  “Yes. She was scared. The graffiti was threatening.” Briana stared at Gabe. “I saw it. It scared me, too. But I was too wrapped up in my own job and life. I should have made her move in with me. One night she had to work late.”

  Gabe sat silent, waiting for Briana to continue when she pulled herself together.

  “She was walking to her car in the parking lot, talking on her cell phone to me.” Tears filled Briana’s eyes. “I should have told her to get someone to walk her out. But I just didn’t think… I hear
d her scream, then she dropped the phone.” Her head shook slowly back and forth. “I called the police, but they couldn’t get to her in time.”

  His chest tight, his pulse speeding, Gabe reached across the table and rested his hand on Briana’s.

  “He tossed her body in a Dumpster like she was some kind of trash.” The tears slipped from her eyes, trickling down her cheeks. “The bastard needs to die some really horrible death.”

  “Did anyone follow up with the ex-boyfriend?”

  “The police questioned him, but he had witnesses who said he was in Tacoma the night my sister died. The police couldn’t find the killer, so the case has been languishing.” Her hand turned to grip his. “Tell me you’ll get him. Please. My sister deserves justice.”

  “I’ll do my best.” His fingers tightened around hers. “Do you have a photo of your sister’s boyfriend?”

  Briana pulled her phone from her purse. “The only one I have is a picture she texted to me of the two of them. The image isn’t clear, so you can’t really see what he looks like.” She touched a few buttons and flipped through the screens, stopping on one of a woman with red hair and pale skin. The quality of the picture wasn’t sufficient to indicate her eye color, but the police report had indicated Nancy Smith had green eyes.

  The man standing behind her had either dark blond or light brown hair, hanging down past his collar, slicked back from his forehead. He sported a pair of mirrored sunglasses, completely hiding his eyes. The picture wasn’t anything he could take to court, even if the boyfriend was the man who’d killed Nancy.

  A glance at his watch had Gabe pushing back in his chair. “Ms. Smith, thank you for your time. I’ll get back to you once we know more.”

  She caught his arm with a desperate grip. “Catch him.”

  “I’ll do my best.” As he drove to Mrs. Watson’s house, Gabe reflected on what Briana had said about the killer leaving messages. It was the same scenario as that in Cape Churn. What were the odds? It had to be the same guy.

  When he arrived at Mrs. Watson’s, he climbed her porch steps, still lost in thought, and knocked on the door.