by Barb Han
Courtney would normally distract herself with an intense workout, but she was concerned that might hurt the baby. Without talking to her doctor, she figured it best to lay off pushing her body to the point of dripping-with-sweat exhaustion. Besides, her stomach was calm for the moment, and she didn’t want to stir up that hornet’s nest again. She had a monthly OB appointment and no reason to push it up. Nausea was the absolute worst. It was a slow drain on the system to feel sick all day long. Courtney didn’t wish the feeling on her worst enemy.
Frustration nipped at just how much her life was changing and just how out of control everything seemed. Coming home to Jacobstown was supposed to provide a respite. It was supposed to nurture her tortured soul but was becoming a mental prison instead. Wow, had she just described her life and her pregnancy as a mental prison?
Deep down, she didn’t feel that way at all. She picked up the business card again and ran her index finger along the embossed name, Dr. Sara Winters.
The call could wait until she ran one more errand. Blue Trunks had been bugging her, and her mind was spinning out. The guy most likely had nothing to do with Jacobstown or the jerk terrorizing its citizens.
There was only one way to try to find him and that was to return to The Mart and wait him out.
* * *
THE FRONT DOORKNOB TURNED, catching Jordan off guard. He thought Deacon and Amber had locked it when they left. On instinct, Jordan went for the shotgun tucked above the kitchen cabinet far out of reach of little hands but easy enough to access in an emergency.
Five rapid taps confirmed Lone Star Lonnie was about to walk through the door. Jordan abandoned his attempt to snatch the shotgun and started toward the door. A sheet-white-faced Lonnie stared at Jordan.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
Lone Star’s face twisted and he issued a sharp sigh.
“You need to come and take a look at what’s on the porch,” Lone Star said.
“What is it?” Jordan’s pace quickened, making double time.
“A foot.”
Chapter Eight
Jordan rushed outside and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the freezer bag on the first step leading up to the porch.
“It’s human,” he said to Lonnie. “Small in size with painted toenails.”
He fished his cell from his pocket and called Zach.
“What’s going on?” Zach asked.
“You need to get over to the ranch as soon as possible. There’s either a really sick prank on my porch steps or he’s been here,” Jordan said.
“I’m on my way now. I’m not far.” Zach’s rapid breathing told Jordan that his cousin had started sprinting. “What is it?”
“It looks like a female’s foot,” Jordan supplied.
Zach muttered a string of curses. “You already know this, but don’t touch anything.”
“I won’t.” The two stayed on the line until Zach arrived fifteen minutes later.
Zach took a statement from Lone Star Lonnie. Jordan gave his, which was little more than what he’d already told his cousin. He looked from one to the other when he said, “I’d like to keep this finding quiet. This guy is taunting us, and I don’t want to tip my hand just yet.”
“No one outside of this property will hear any of this from me.” Jordan had every intention of telling his siblings and their spouses. The security team and ranch hands deserved to know, as well. Other than that, Jordan was fine with keeping the news on the ranch.
“We interviewed and cleared the staff last year. No one new has been hired since then. Still, I’d like to interview the staff again. Someone might’ve seen something.” Zach was following protocol, Jordan knew that. His cousin snapped photos of the bottom step where the evidence was found and the surrounding area.
“They might have questions. You’re the best one to give answers,” Jordan said to his cousin.
Deputy Lopez’s SUV wound up the path. Zach brought the evidence over to him and sent him away with it.
“I told him to request a rush on DNA testing,” Zach said to Jordan. Breanna Griswold’s death stared them in the face, and there were still more theories than evidence. The jerk responsible for killing Breanna still walked the streets. And Jordan could only hope the man had made his first mistake.
“You want to come in for a cup of coffee while Lone Star rounds up the staff?” Jordan asked.
“Sounds like a good plan,” Zach said.
Lone Star broke off, and Zach followed Jordan into the kitchen.
After filling coffee mugs, Jordan joined his cousin at the granite island in the kitchen where everyone usually gathered.
“If the DNA matches Breanna’s, he kept her body part preserved.” Zach punched in a few letters on the keypad of his cell phone.
“Why would he do that?” Jordan had no idea how the criminal mind worked.
“Keeping a ‘souvenir’ is a way to relive the experience of the crime over and over again until he or she is able to satisfy the next urge.” Zach leaned back in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose. “There might be another scenario going on here.”
“A threat?” All Kent women were accounted for as of this morning. Jordan had already reached out to his brothers and sister.
“It could be a twisted gift, a warning message.” Zach picked up a pen and rolled it around his fingers. “Or that bastard might be taunting us.”
“He got past ranch security. He knows the area, which makes me think he’s been watching our every move,” Jordan stated. “How? Who could be that crafty without any of us knowing it?”
“As an investigator, I’d normally look more closely at the family and staff.” The pen flipped out of his grip, crashing onto the desk. “But you guys are my family. I know that a Kent would never do anything remotely like this. And the staff on the ranch boils down to Lone Star Lonnie and a handful of his devoted guys. Then there’s Kimberly, Mitch’s wife. Our perp is most likely male. The person who killed Breanna is either tricky or strong, most likely both. She was five feet six inches and weighed 140 pounds at the time of her death. There was no sign of struggle, which would indicate she knew her attacker, but the few people she’d been around that day have alibis. I’ve had no break in this case. Now citizens are scared and reporting missing people to the tune of half a dozen a day.”
“What if someone has gone high-tech with their spying?” It was probably a long shot, but every idea was fair game at this point.
“As in someone put a camera on the property?” Zach asked.
“Could be on the property. Could be using a drone. Hell, the camera could be across the street zooming in on us right now for all I know,” Jordan pointed out.
“Those are valid points.” Zach jotted a few notes. “We haven’t looked at this from the angle of someone targeting a Kent specifically.”
“Our land is vast, and you said a while ago there were reports of dead animals on other ranches in the area. None of us thought this was a specific threat to us. With the clock ticking, it’s time to look at this from all angles.” Jordan smacked the granite with his flat palm.
“How’s Courtney?” Zach didn’t look up, so he wasn’t trying to gauge Jordan’s reaction to the question. It was probably innocent enough and not an indication that Zach had caught on to the relationship going on between the two of them.
“She seemed better the last time I saw her,” Jordan said, noncommittal.
“I spoke to Deacon, and he said she stayed over at the main house last night after checking an area near Rushing Creek,” Zach said.
“That’s right. She was on the property late, and I bumped into her. She was cold, so I convinced her to come inside and eat.”
Zach’s eyebrow shot up, but to his credit he didn’t say anything.
“It was late,” Jordan added by way of explanation. “She was too tir
ed to drive home.”
“Amy has been worried about Courtney. Said she’s been trying to reach Courtney without any luck,” Zach continued. “Did she mention anything to you?”
Jordan shook his head. He could only hope his family wouldn’t put two and two together and figure him and Courtney out before he had a chance to convince her that keeping the pregnancy secret would only cause hurt feelings later. He understood that she was gun-shy when it came to spreading the news too early. She’d only just found out and, by way of luck, so had he. It would take a minute for her to digest the surprise and get comfortable talking about their situation.
“If you cross paths—”
“I doubt I’ll see her before you do.” Jordan’s quick rebuke must’ve sent up a red flag, because Zach stopped what he was doing and studied Jordan. “If I do, though, I’ll be sure to tell her that Amy’s on the hunt.”
Zach laughed. On the hunt was the way they used to refer to Amy when she was looking for anyone who’d frustrated her. It was good to break the tension, and, besides, Jordan needed to change the direction of the conversation. If any one of his family members caught on that there was more going on between him and Courtney than courtesy and concern, and asked outright, he already knew that he wouldn’t lie about their relationship. That much was a given. But he’d made a promise not to voluntarily spill the beans, and his word could be counted on.
Before his cousin could dig any deeper, Jordan ended the conversation by asking, “Will you let me know when the forensics results come back? I’d like to know what we’re dealing with as soon as the information is available.”
“You know I will, Jordan. Even with a rush request, it might take time.” Zach’s cell buzzed. He checked the screen. It was Ellen. “I better take this.”
Zach put the call on speaker.
“Excuse me, Sheriff,” she started right in.
“What’s going on?” Zach asked.
“I just took a call from Liesel at the diner. She had to get off the phone pronto because she came back from her lunch break to find Reggie Barstock walking out the front door. She was afraid he’d come back inside when he saw her. He had a to-go bag in his hands,” Ellen said.
Zach’s expression dropped, and his lips thinned. “She say which way he was headed or what kind of vehicle he was driving?”
“She said he was in an older model white sedan.” Ellen issued a sharp sigh. “Do you want me to send a deputy to speak to her?”
“I’d rather have them drive the area instead,” Zach instructed. “Did she say there was anything different about his appearance?”
“He was wearing a red bandana on his head is all she said,” Ellen informed. “And she said he still had that limp.”
“Ask Lopez to take the call. He’s the closest to the diner. Recirculate the picture of Barstock with the request and let everyone know to be on the lookout for him.” Zach glanced at Jordan, who was relieved for the change in subject.
“Yes, sir,” Ellen said before ending the call.
The timing of Barstock being seen when a severed foot in a plastic freezer bag showed up on the Kent property was interesting. But what could Reggie Barstock have against the Kent family? They didn’t know him or his mother all that well, as far as Jordan knew. He made a mental note to ask his family at dinner tonight what the possible connection could be if there was one.
He also thought about Courtney.
Jordan figured this was a good time to redirect the visit.
“Do you need me to come down to the barn with you while you speak to the men?” he asked.
“No. I’m fine on my own,” Zach said.
“There’s a hefty amount of work waiting for me.” And he wanted to get in touch with Courtney. Too many thoughts rolled around in his mind, and he was tempted to call Courtney the minute Zach got out the door.
Jordan fished his phone out of his front pocket and thought about what he might say. He figured she wouldn’t take lightly to feeling like he was checking up on her. She’d always had an independent streak wider than the Texas sky.
He tried to convince himself that he was concerned for the child and not her. He didn’t want to care about Courtney so much that he missed her the second she was gone. Courtney or anyone else, for that matter.
Jordan pulled up her name in his contacts anyway. His thumb hovered over her name.
* * *
COURTNEY SAT IN her parked car at the south end of the parking lot of The Mart, where she had the best vantage point. Here, she could see vehicles coming and going. Most people repeated the same patterns, so she figured Blue Trunks would park in or near the same parking spot as the last time if he returned.
It was a long shot that he’d come back on the same day she chose to stake out the lot, but she had to do something. It never hurt to take a chance. Sometimes, rolling the dice paid off. Kids were still at school. The Mart was overrun by cars. She usually liked to avoid big-box stores because it seemed like everyone in town came out at the same time. The aisles were cramped, and the people were cranky. Courtney wasn’t one for shopping anyway. Those conditions made it even less pleasant.
After an hour, she started rethinking her judgment call on staking out The Mart. It was her day off, and she was becoming obsessed with the case. An annoying little voice in the back of her head tried to tell her that she was fixated on this case because she had a chance to solve it. Because of the one she couldn’t go back and fix. What justice could she bring to the families of the eight officers who were shot dead while she was spared?
Her heavy thoughts were interrupted by the sight of a pickup that fit the description of Blue Trunks’. It was probably a long shot and not the right vehicle, but she watched it circle the parking lot. It stopped in front of the double glass sliding doors of the entrance and then made another lap. No one got in the vehicle from what she could tell at this distance.
She started the engine and kicked up the heater a couple of notches. In the last hour or so, the temperature had dipped again to a chilly forty-five degrees. It was midday and the sun was out, which was her saving grace. The vehicle had stayed fairly warm inside, especially with her long coat on, but her hands were like ice. She gripped the steering wheel and tailed the older pickup as it pulled out of the parking lot.
The pickup pulled onto Riverside Lane, which was a main thoroughfare through Bexford. Courtney had to stay far enough back so as not to draw attention to herself. From her position thirty feet behind, she could see there was no passenger in the vehicle.
The driver made a left-hand turn. Courtney tried to get a look, but all she could see clearly was that the driver wore some kind of cap, maybe a baseball cap. She slowed her pace and then made the same turn.
The vehicle was gone. A moment of panic set in. She scanned the parking pads as she drove through the neighborhood of white cottage-style homes from around the 1920s. The neighborhood road was barely big enough for one lane with cars parked on both sides of the street and on parking pads. Wire fences encased the front and backyards.
Courtney rolled her window down halfway to listen. Other than dogs barking, trying to hop the fence and chase her, there was no sign of life or hint of the vehicle. People in Texas didn’t do cold weather, so there were no young kids playing in the yards while older siblings attended school. In fact, there was surprisingly little activity. She sped up a little bit, checking side streets as she passed them by.
After the fourth one, she saw it. The pickup turned right. So Courtney sped up in order to catch it. She followed as it weaved through cars in the neighborhood.
If this went on much longer, she’d be made. At the time it was about get pretty obvious that she was following, the pickup pulled onto a parking pad. Courtney pulled behind a blue Mustang but kept the ignition in Drive, just in case. She picked up her cell and turned on the camera feature.
The
driver came around the front of the pickup. And then Courtney got a good look at her. It was a woman and not Carolina Blue Trunks. Courtney waited for the woman to go inside her front door before she slipped out of her spot and headed back toward home.
Staking out The Mart while not on official duty wasn’t the smartest idea. What if she had found Carolina Blue Trunks? Then what? She had no reason to talk to him, and she wasn’t driving an official vehicle because she didn’t want to scare him off in the event he saw her. She had no backup out here.
Courtney navigated her way onto the highway. Her cell rang, and she answered it over the vehicle’s speaker.
“What did you decide about dinner?” Jordan’s voice came through clearly. His masculine tone sent warmth vibrating through her, warming places she knew better than to allow.
“I should probably stay home tonight,” she said without much enthusiasm. The thought of going home alone and wrestling those nightmares again was about as appealing as eating a heated can of soup for dinner. Sure, it got the job done, but that was about it.
“Zach asked me about you earlier.”
“What did you say?” She couldn’t hide the moment of panic in her tone.
“Nothing that he didn’t already know. He spoke to my family. Speaking of which, Amy is looking for you.” There was no hint of judgment in those words.
“I know. I haven’t had a chance to return her call yet. Besides, I’m at a loss as to what to say to anyone right now,” she admitted.
“If you don’t want to come to dinner, can I swing by your place? We need to talk.” Those last four words she’d been half expecting and mostly dreading.
“Think we could do it another day?” She didn’t want to see him while she was feeling so vulnerable and alone. This was the time to armor up, not run toward enemy lines. But was he the enemy? An annoying little voice in the back of her head questioned. Logically, she knew he wasn’t the problem. It was her. Being in his arms last night had felt a little too right, and it was a foreign feeling. No man had made her feel as safe and cherished as Jordan. And their relationship had been temporary. She’d known it would be going in.