27
Jagg
The blood drained from Sunny’s face leaving a pale, pasty white skin glowing against the darkness. Her expression confirmed that she wasn’t aware that her former boyfriend-slash-woman beater had just been released from prison. The tremble in her body told me she was terrified.
The way I responded shook me to my core.
“Nothing is going to happen to you.” I grabbed her shoulders, turned her fully to me. “You’ve got me. I won’t let anyone hurt you again. Do you understand me? Nothing is going to happen to you. Nothing.”
She stared at me, full shock freezing her face.
“When?” The single word came out in a breathy whisper.
“Eight days ago.”
Her jaw dropped.
I nodded, letting her know I agreed with her racing thoughts. Yes, it is a very real possibility that Kenzo Rees destroyed your home and was somehow involved in your attack.
The ice-cold fear in her eyes sent a blast of that protectiveness through me. I squeezed her shoulders.
“He won’t hurt you again, Sunny.” I pulled her to me. “He won’t hurt you again.”
She fell into my body. I wrapped my arms around her. The sweet coconut smell of her hair enveloped me. I kissed her forehead and looked up at her house, that blast turning into a raging fire. It was as if everything else faded into the background and only one thing remained. One target in my sights.
Kenzo Fucking Rees.
Blue and red lights bounced off the trees, the sound of tires against gravel following seconds later. A chorus of growls came next.
“Stay.” Sunny pushed away from me and kneeled down next to the dogs.
I looked at my watch. It had been exactly six minutes since I’d called dispatch.
“Go straight to my Jeep and take the dogs. Don’t move, don’t go anywhere. Let me handle this.”
Sunny nodded, gripping the leashes, her face still white as a sheet.
I cupped her cheeks. “Let me handle this. This is my job.”
She nodded.
“Don’t say anything to Darby. Just get up the hill, to the Jeep.”
She looked at the headlights cutting through the yard. “How do you know it’s Darby?”
“Just guessin.’ Straight to the Jeep. Not a word, got it?”
She stared at the patrol car.
“Okay? Sunny. You okay?”
“Yes.”
“Say it again.”
She inhaled deeply. “Yes. I’m okay,” a little stronger this time.
“Good. Let’s go.”
I slid my hand into hers and guided her up the hill while she muttered commands to her dogs the entire way. We split off at the driveway. I met Darby in front of his patrol car. He wore a Grateful Dead T-shirt, wrinkled, and damp with sweat. Khaki shorts and flip flops completed the incapable look. He shut his car door, gaping at the graffiti on the house.
“Damn.”
“Nice response time.”
“I was nearby.”
“I’ll bet you were.”
His gaze flickered to mine, then quickly back at the house.
“You find Kenzo Rees yet?”
His eyebrows raised. “It hasn’t been an hour since you called me and told me he was out of jail.”
“Hour’s a long time.”
“… No, sir. I haven’t found him yet.”
A moment ticked by.
“Did she get a look at who did this?” He glanced at Sunny climbing into my Jeep, her army obediently at the tires.
“No. Pulled up to it like this.”
“Do you know when it happened?” He pulled his notebook from his pocket.
“Within the last hour.”
“Was she home?”
“No. She’d gone into town to pick up dinner at Gino’s.”
He kept his gaze on the graffiti, and off of me. A full ten seconds passed as I gave him the opportunity to tell me why he’d been following me. When he didn’t, I decided to go along with it and see how he played the thing out. Make him sweat, then get the full confession because my gut was telling me there was a lot more to the story than Darby’s interest in shadowing me. I also decided to keep my theory that Sunny knew her intruder to myself. I needed to flush out that theory before my spy ran back and told Colson. I didn’t trust Darby, plain and simple. Besides, at the moment, I had one focus and one focus only—to turn Sunny’s house upside down, find a trace of Kenzo Rees, and get the mother fucker locked back up. Barney Fife’s clandestine mission could wait.
“She was gone about thirty minutes total. Last night, her truck was keyed at Frank’s. Cowboy Billy admitted to it. She didn’t call it in.” I paused and looked at him, knowing he’d been there. He stared ahead. Kid would break. Took time. I continued, “I want you to go back to the bar and see if anyone knows or heard about who could have done this tonight. Check the security cameras. Go to Cowboy Billy’s house and verify his whereabouts tonight. Do the same for the Aldridge whores. Tell them both I’ll see them in the morning.”
My gut told me this had nothing to do with Cowboy Billy and everything to do with Kenzo Rees, but it would be nice to officially check off that box.
“Before that, though,” I continued, “I want this entire house photographed, inside and out. We need to get it swiped for fingerprints and check for trace evidence. Need to write this down, Darby?”
He flipped open his notepad. “Did Miss Harper call you?”
I cocked my head, staring bullets into the side of his face. It was the first time I wondered if he was recording the damn thing.
“She got a flat tire on the way home from Gino’s. I gave her a ride.”
Sweat beaded on his forehead. He swiped it away. He didn’t ask anything else about it, which I noted. A normal person would ask how I knew that, or where the truck was exactly, or if the tires had been slashed, perhaps. Or what the heck I was doing on the road behind her. Not Darby. And I wasn’t going to share the information about the valves being tampered with. Not with him.
“Did you see her truck on your way in?” I asked.
“No.” He shook his head.
Phoenix had already towed it. The man worked fast. Not that I was surprised.
Darby nodded to the front door. “Busted locks?”
“Nothing obvious.” We stepped onto the porch. “Could have used a pick or credit card. The cabin is old and isn’t exactly Fort Knox.”
He kneeled down at the front door, searching for footprints.
“I’ll get someone out here from the state crime scene unit, but it will be awhile.”
“I’ve got nothing better to do.”
I didn’t doubt that. “Stay out of the way and pay attention. You might learn a thing or two.”
Darby nodded, a moment passing before he looked up at me and finally addressed the elephant in the room. “Do you think Rees did this?”
“That’s what we need to find out, kid. Get at it. We’ve got a long night ahead of us.”
Three hours, and jack shit later, I watched Darby back down the driveway, on his way to Frank’s to interview and pull security footage. Aside from confirming that a switchblade had been used to pop the bullshit apparatus Sunny considered a lock, the crime scene techs found nothing. The doorknob was covered in prints, presumably Sunny’s, but regardless, they lifted what they could on the off chance Rees was stupid enough not to wear gloves. There were no prints on the edges of the furniture—where he would have had to handle it in order to toss it over—or on the dishes he’d shattered, or appliances he’d tossed around. No empty spray paint cans in the trash, cigarette butts on the grounds, nothing. Between Sunny’s hair and her dog’s, it was impossible to search for any of his. My Jeep had trampled any tire tracks, so that was no use either. And of course, Sunny didn’t have security cameras, something I was going to have remedied immediately by my own two hands. Fort Knox would have nothing on Sunny’s place by the time I got done with it.
As susp
ected, Darby didn’t even ask how the intruder could have gotten past her dogs—a huge clue in narrowing the pool of suspects and finding the fucker. Although I already knew it was Rees. I knew it in my gut. Revenge, the oldest motive in the book, and the hardest to shake.
Darby still had a lot to learn, including sharpening his instincts. It was something I knew took time, but because we didn’t have time, I was going to personally, and secretly, handle everything I asked of the kid, because, well, if you want something done right, you’ve got to do it yourself.
As Darby’s headlights faded into the darkness, Sunny released the dogs and climbed out of my Jeep, vibrating with as much anxious energy as her mutts.
“What did you find? Anything? Prints? Anything? What—”
“No. Nothing.”
Her shoulders slumped. “There’s got to be something.”
“There’s always something. I promise you, I’ll find it.”
“It’s him. I know it. He called me a cunt that night in Dallas, over and over. I remember.” She looked at me, eyes wide with adrenaline. “You think it’s him, too, don’t you?”
“Yes. I do.”
She nodded. “Good. We agree, then. It is. I know it.” She looked back at the wreckage of her once beautiful home. “Oh my God, where to begin…”
“Tomorrow. We’ll start on it tomorrow.”
She slowly nodded. A moment slid by before she turned to me. “Thank you,” she said softly. “Thank you, Jagg. Thank you for everything.”
“I’m not leaving you tonight, Sunny.”
“No. Please. It’s fine. You’ve done enough.”
I turned fully to her. “I said, I’m not leaving you tonight.”
“Jagger… we can’t…” she whispered and looked down.
I lifted her chin. “I am not leaving you, Sunny.”
She stared at me, pain, fear, desire, confusion, all wrapped up in shimmering green eyes that told me she’d had enough for the evening.
“But the furniture is shredded, the couches, the bed… everything…”
“I’ve got a place we can go.”
She blinked.
“You’re not staying here tonight. We’re not staying here.”
She looked at the house, then back at me. “What about the dogs?”
“I’ll take care of it. I’ll take care of them, too.”
“You hate dogs.”
“Now where would you get an idea like that?”
“Call it woman’s instinct.”
“Does that instinct tell you that I’m going to take care of you tonight? Of everything?”
“… Yes.”
“Good.”
“Jagg, I—”
“I’ll take care of it. That’s it.”
She bit her lip, looked back at her house, then finally nodded. “Okay. Let me pack a bag.”
“You have three minutes.”
28
Jagg
Gritting my teeth, I adjusted—for the tenth time—in the driver’s seat, trying to put some space between me and the cold, wet, snotty nose blasting stinking, hot breath against my neck. My shirt collar was already damp with drool. Dog hair spun around the interior of the Jeep, one landing on my lip every few seconds.
Damn Max. The dog’s head was practically resting on my shoulder. In the backseat next to him sat Athena and Tango, quivering messes of excitement to be riding in a vehicle with no top.
To my right, Sunny, with ninety-pounds of Brute on her lap.
We were a freaking motley crew of beasts driving down a narrow dirt road in the middle of the night. Every bump in the road was followed by squeaking leather, an announcement of the punctures their nails were surely making in my leather seats.
I started to itch. Literally—itch.
“You okay?” Sunny’s face poked out from behind Brute, who’s expression resembled something like constipation.
“Yep. Dandy.” I spat out a clump of hair.
“I’ll clean your Jeep tonight.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Dog smell didn’t go away.
“Where are we going, anyway?” She asked.
“Don’t worry about it.”
I took a slow and steady left turn onto an even narrower dirt road. After another five minutes, the woods opened up to acres of manicured fields in front of soaring mountains in the distance. Although it was almost midnight, the woods were flooded with light as bright as twilight.
The full moon was almost complete.
I stopped at a newly constructed iron gate just off the road and jumped out.
“No.” I snapped to the dogs, although Sunny was already controlling them.
After being denied on the first passcode entry, I tried another, then other, until finally hitting the jackpot. I shook my head as I walked back to my truck. After locking the fence behind us, we drove slowly through the field. Fireflies sparked above the silver grass. I picked up the gravel road and took a curve around the mountain, where I spotted him.
Mounted on horseback, my brother skillfully weaved back and forth behind his head of cattle, herding them across the field. A cattle dog was on his left, one on the right, and one barking feverishly at a calf who’d broken loose.
I accelerated, rolling to a stop along the fence.
“Stay here. Might be a minute. I’ll be back.” I pulled a stack of mail from the console, then jumped out and jogged over to the chaos.
“Take Duke,” Ryder said, nodding to the horse next to him as he slid off his own. No “well, hey there,” or, “good evening,” or “good timing, bro.” Pleasantries and small talk weren’t my brother’s thing.
I jumped on Duke, a gorgeous tan quarter horse with a white mane.
Wearing his usual cowboy hat, T-shirt, faded jeans and cowboy boots, Ryder jogged over to the calf, stealthy, arms out, reminding me of the skilled soldiers I used to run with. Although my brother was no soldier. Not in the traditional sense anyway.
While I kept the herd moving, Ryder approached the calf from the side as the thing bucked and leapt with excitement, showing no interest in rejoining the herd. The cattle dogs were going ape shit. The cows were starting to veer off the path I knew had taken my brother hours to establish.
“Get it done, bro,” I hollered out.
This was met with the middle finger.
I watched my brother and the calf dance, Ryder nimble on his toes, waiting for the right time to strike. The calf was a five-hundred pound cluster fuck of stomps and snorts.
Patience, my brother had that in spades. It was one of the biggest differences between us.
Finally, Ryder pulled the rope from his belt, slung the loop in the air as smooth as a true American cowboy and snagged the calf by the neck on the first throw. I pulled Duke’s bridle and met him at the edge of the herd.
“I’ll tie her up,” he said. “Then you take her to the field and close her in. Make sure to close the gate.”
“Which field?”
“Skywalker.”
“You got it.”
Twenty minutes and a bucket of sweat later, the calf was locked in the pen. Duke and I met Ryder back at the herd.
I tossed him a water I’d snagged from the mini fridge in the stable. He sipped, slid his into the saddle bag while I chugged mine.
“When’d you change the passcode?” I asked, wiping the sweat from my brow.
“Yesterday.”
“Thanks for the heads up.”
A grunt.
“Figured you chose something more creative than our football numbers.”
Ryder pulled the bridle and changed course, his focus singularly on his herd. I did the same and took a second to look my younger brother over.
Dark circles faded a pair of aqua-blue eyes that once sparkled with energy. His face, his neck and arms were a deep bronze from spending all his time outdoors. His brown hair was unkempt and shaggy, curling just below his ears. He’d trimmed his beard since I’d seen him last, but if I had to guess, it wasn
’t in an attempt to lose the uni-bomber appearance. It was to let his face breath during this insane heatwave blasting through the mountains. New scrapes and cuts streaked his arms, probably from mending fences all day.
Ryder was a full-time rancher, full-time hermit, and full-time avoider of any human contact. Ten years in federal prison tended to have that effect on people. I’d done my best when he’d gotten out. Visited every day, tried to drag him to the bar, suggested a vacation, all I could think to do. No dice. Ryder was nothing like the brother I once knew. Not that I would know, really, because he never spoke about his time behind bars or about what had put him there in the first place.
Never spoke about much anymore.
I pulled the bound stack of mail from the waistband of my pants.
“Mail.”
He caught it midair, stuffed it into his saddle bag without so much of a glance. Understandable, considering all the guy got was solicitations. Two days after Ryder had been released, he’d purchased a massive ranch on the outskirts of town, confirming my suspicion that he’d amassed a hefty savings account before his life was turned upside down. The guy never left his ranch. Every Friday morning, I made the twenty country-mile drive to deliver his mail, although he knew just as much as I did that it was to check on him more than anything else. That night, though, I had another reason to visit.
“Missed you at Lieutenant Seagrave’s funeral.”
“I was busy.”
I glanced around the fields. “I can see that.”
A second slid past.
“I need a favor.”
“You? Or the woman you’ve got sitting in your Jeep?”
My brow cocked. Never underestimate the eye of my brother.
“Do you still own that cabin on the lake?”
“Yeah.”
“I need it.”
“You got it.”
Relief washed over me. Ryder had changed so much in the last year, I wasn’t sure if the best friend I used to have would be willing to help me out. Good to know loyalty never dies.
“Is this on the books, or off?” He asked.
“Off. Don’t tell anyone we’re there.”
A quick nod. “Keys are in the house, blue keychain. There’s no running water or electricity on right now. I can call tomorrow—”
Jagger (Steele Shadows Investigations) Page 20