by Barb Han
There could be something hidden around the house, a file or piece of evidence their father had been hiding that could lead a perp to her door.
Colton tapped his fingers on his mug. He thought about time. And how short it could be. How unfair it could be and how quickly it could be robbed from loved ones.
It was too early in the morning to go down a path of frustration that his boys would never know their mother. Besides, as long as he had air in his lungs, he would do his best to ensure they knew what a wonderful a person she was.
Colton booted up his laptop and checked his email. Several needed attention, so he went ahead and answered those. Others could wait. A couple he forwarded on to Gert. She’d been awfully quiet since the phone call last night, which didn’t mean she wasn’t working. It just meant she hadn’t found anything worth sharing.
He pinched the bridge of his nose to stem the headache threatening. Then he picked up the pencil from on top of his notepad. He squeezed the pencil so tight while thinking about the past that it cracked in half. Frustration that he wasn’t getting anywhere in the two most important cases of his life got the best of him and he chucked the pencil pieces against the wall.
Colton cursed. He looked up in time to see a feminine figure emerge from his bedroom. Makena had on pajama bottoms and a T-shirt. The bottoms were pink plaid. Pink was his new favorite color.
“Morning.” She walked into the room and right past the broken pieces of pencil.
“Back atcha.” He liked that she knew where everything was and went straight to the cabinet for the coffee. She had a fresh cup in her hands and a package of vanilla yogurt by the time he moved to the spot to clean up the broken pencil.
“How’d you sleep?” he asked her as he tossed the bits into the trash.
“Like a baby.” She stretched her arms out and yawned before digging into the yogurt. The movement pressed her ample breasts against the cotton of her T-shirt.
Colton forced his gaze away from her soft curves. “How’s your hip today?” He’d noticed that she was walking better and barely limped.
“So far, so good,” she said. “I don’t think I’m ready to run a marathon anytime soon, but I can make it across the room without too much pain. The bruise is already starting to heal.” She motioned toward her hip, a place his eyes didn’t need to follow.
Colton made a second cup of coffee, which he polished off by the time she finished her first.
“I can be dressed and ready in five minutes. Is that okay?” she asked.
“Works for me.” He gathered up a few supplies like his notebook and laptop and tucked them into a bag.
Makena emerged from the bedroom as quickly as she’d promised, looking a little too good. He liked the fact that she could sleep when she was around him, because she’d confessed that she hadn’t done a whole lot of that in recent months.
He smiled as he passed by her, taking his turn in the bedroom. He dressed in his usual jeans, dark button-down shirt and windbreaker. He retrieved his belt from the safe and then clipped it on his hip.
He returned to the kitchen where Makena stood, ready to go.
The drive to the motel took exactly twenty-nine minutes with no traffic. The place was just as Gert had described. A nondescript motel off the highway that fit the information Gert had passed along—that it rented rooms by the hour. There was an orange neon sign that had M-O-T-E-L written out along with a massive arrow pointing toward the building. Colton had always driven by those places and wondered why people needed the arrow to find it. He could chew on that another day.
“It’s best if you stick to my side in case anything unexpected goes down. I’m not expecting anything, but should River still be in the area or pop in to rent another room, I want you to get behind me as a first option or anything that could put the most mass between you and him. Okay?”
She nodded and he could see that she was clear on his request. She’d been silent on the ride over, staring out the window, alone in her thoughts. Colton hadn’t felt the need to fill the space between them with words. It had been a comfortable silence. One that erased the years they’d been apart.
The office of the motel was a small brick building that had a screen door in front of a white wooden one. The second door was cracked open enough to see dim lighting. He opened the screen door as he tucked Makena behind him.
With his hand on her arm, he could feel her trembling. River’s connection to this place seemed to be taking a toll on her. A renewed anger filled Colton as he bit back the frustration. Of course, she’d be nervous and scared. She’d been running from this guy for literally months and here she was walking inside a building where he’d recently stayed.
Inside, they were greeted by a clerk whose head could barely be seen above the four-and-a-half-foot counter. The walls were made of dark wood paneling. The worn carpet was hunter green, and the yellow laminate countertop gave the place a leftover-from-another-era look.
“How can I help you, Sheriff?” The woman didn’t seem at all surprised to see him, and he figured his deputy might’ve let her know someone would most likely swing by to speak to her.
“Are you Gloria?” he asked. Aside from the long bar-height counter that the little old lady could barely see over, there were a pair of chairs with a small table nestled in the right-hand side of the room. To his left, in the other corner, a flat-screen TV had been mounted.
“In the flesh.” She smiled.
“I understand you spoke to one of my deputies yesterday. My name is Sheriff Colton O’Connor.” He walked to the counter and extended his right hand. “Pleased to meet you.”
The little old lady took his hand. Her fingers might be bony and frail but she had a solid handshake and a formidable attitude.
“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Sheriff. You’re in here to talk to me about one of my clients.” She had the greenest eyes he’d ever seen. He didn’t get the impression she’d had an easy life. The sparkle in her eyes said she’d given it hell, though.
“Yes, ma’am. This is a friend of mine and she’s familiar with the case.” He purposely left out Makena’s name.
Gloria nodded and smiled toward Makena. “My name might be Gloria but everyone around here calls me Peach on account of the fact I was born in Georgia. I’ve lived in Texas for nearly sixty years but picked up the name in second grade and it stuck.”
Peach’s gaze shifted back to Colton. She nodded and smiled after shaking hands with Makena.
“Can you tell me everything you remember about the visitor in room 11?” Colton asked, directing the conversation.
“The name he used to check in was Ryan Reynolds. I can get the ledger for you if you’d like to see it.”
“I would.” Ryan Reynolds was a famous actor, so it was obviously a fake name. Colton figured that Makena could confirm whether or not the handwriting belonged to River.
Peach opened a drawer and then produced a black book before finding a page with the date from five days ago.
“I get folks’ information on the computer usually, but my cash customers like to sign in by hand the old-fashioned way.” He bet they did.
She hoisted the book onto the counter and, using two fingers on each hand, nudged it toward Colton. He looked at the name she pointed at. Ryan Reynolds. The movie star. Somehow, Colton seriously doubted the real Ryan Reynolds would have come all the way to this small town to rent a motel room. Last he’d checked, there were no movies being made in the area. But this wasn’t the kind of place where a person would use his or her real name, and Peach clearly hadn’t asked for ID.
Colton leaned into Makena and said in a low voice, “Does that handwriting look like his?”
“Yes. He always makes that weird loop on his Rs. I mean, wrong name, obviously. But that’s his handwriting.”
“Do you mind if I take a picture of this?” Colton glanced up at Pe
ach, who nodded.
Colton pulled out his phone and snapped a shot.
“I’d also like to keep this book as evidence. Did Mr. Reynolds touch the book or use a pen that you gave him?”
“Now that I really think about it, I don’t think he did touch the book. I can’t be sure. But the pen he used would be right there.” She reached for a decorated soup can that had a bunch of pens in it.
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to admit that as evidence.” Colton’s words stopped her mid-reach.
“Yes, sir. I’m happy to cooperate in any way that I can.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” Colton tipped his chin. “Has anyone else who looked suspicious been here over the last week or two?”
“You’ll have to clarify what suspicious means, sheriff. I get all kinds coming through here,” she quipped with a twinkle in her eye.
Chapter Thirteen
Okay, bad question on Colton’s part. “Let me ask another way. Did you have anyone new show up?”
“I have a couple of regulars who come in once a month or every other week. This is a good stop for my truckers who are on the road.”
“Anyone here you haven’t seen before other than Mr. Reynolds?” he clarified.
“I’ve had a couple of people come through. I’d say in the last week or so there’ve been four or five, but we’ve been slower than usual.”
“Has anyone say around six feet tall with light red hair, maybe could be described as strawberry blond, been in?”
She was already shaking her head before he could finish his sentence. “No. I would remember someone like that.”
“How about anyone with black hair and a mustache?” he asked.
“No, sir.” Her gaze shifted up and to the left, signaling she was trying to recall information. So far, she’d passed his honesty meters.
“I can’t really recall anyone who looked like that coming through recently.”
“Is it possible for me to view the footage from the occupant of room 11 as he came and went?” Colton asked.
“I can pull it up on the screen behind you now that I have here one of those digital files.” She smiled and her eyes lit up as she waited for his response.
“That would be a big help.” Colton turned his head and shifted slightly to the left. He put his right elbow on the counter, careful not to disturb the cash ledger.
The next few sounds were the click-click-clicks of fingers on a keyboard.
“Here we go,” she said with an even bigger smile. “It should come up in just a second.”
Colton’s left hand was at his side. He felt Makena reach for him and figured she must need reassurance considering she was about to see a video of the man she’d been in a traumatic relationship with. He twined their fingers together and squeezed her hand in a show of support.
She closed what little distance was between them, her warm body against his. He ignored the frissons of heat from the contact. He’d never get used to them, but he had come to expect the reaction that always came and the warmth that flooded him while she was this close.
The TV set came to life and the sound of static filled the room. The next thing he knew, the volume was being turned down on the set. There was a large picture window just to the left of the TV screen and Colton surveyed the parking lot of the small diner across the street. There were five vehicles: two pickup trucks, a small SUV and a sedan. He figured at least one of those had to belong to an employee, possibly two.
“Here it is. Here’s the day he checked in.” Peach practically beamed with her accomplishment of finding his file.
Just as Gert had explained, the video was grainy as all get-out. The man in the video wore a Rangers baseball cap and kept his chin tucked to his chest. Out of the side of his mouth, Colton asked, “Is that about his height and weight?”
“Yes.” There was a lot of emotion packed in that one word and a helluva lot of fight on the ready. He couldn’t help being anything but proud of her. When some would cower, she dug deep and found strength.
“I don’t have a whole lot of video of him, just his coming and going.” Peach fast-forwarded, pausing each time his image came into view. The time stamps revealed dates from five days ago, four days ago and three days ago. Then it was down to two days and the same thing happened every time. He’d walk in or out of the room with his chin-to-chest posture. He didn’t receive any visitors during that time except for daily visits from housekeeping. He didn’t come and go often, mostly staying inside. He didn’t have food delivered, which meant he either packed some or went out for food once a day. His eating habits would definitely classify as strange.
And then on the last day, the morning he checked out, he did something out of character and strange. He took off his hat as he left the room and glanced up at the camera, giving the recording device a full view of his face.
Makena’s body tensed and she gripped Colton’s hand even tighter.
River, she’d said, was a solid six-foot-tall man with a build that made it seem like he spent serious time at the gym. He had black hair and brown eyes. And was every bit the person who’d looked straight at the camera.
From the corner of Colton’s eye, he now saw a man matching the description of River exit the diner and come running at full speed toward the motel office. He put his hands in the air, palms up, in the surrender position to show that he had no gun in his hands and he was surveying the area like he expected someone to jump out at him.
* * *
MAKENA HAD NOTICED the moment she and Colton had exited the vehicle earlier that he’d rested his right hand on the butt of his gun. Having been married to someone in law enforcement, she knew exactly the reason why. It was to have instant access to his weapon. The seconds it took for his hand to reach for his gun, pull it out of the holster and shoot could mean life or death for an officer. It also reminded her of the risks they were taking by visiting the place River had been in twenty-four hours ago.
As she followed Colton’s gaze, she saw her ex-husband, to the shock of her life. Her body tensed. River was running straight toward them, hands high in the air, no doubt to show that he wasn’t carrying a weapon.
Colton drew his, like anyone in law enforcement would.
“Get down and stay below the counter, Ms. Peach,” he directed the clerk.
He tucked Makena behind him and repositioned himself so they were behind the counter. She wanted to face River and ask him why in hell he’d tried to blow her up yesterday morning, but she wasn’t stupid. She wanted to make sure she did it safely. Colton had told her to either hide behind him or put some serious mass between her and River.
She dropped Colton’s hand as it went up to cup the butt of the weapon she recognized as a Glock. She glanced around, looking for some kind of weapon. There was a letter opener. She grabbed it and tightened her fist around it.
If River somehow made it past Colton to get to her, she’d be ready.
Her left hand was fisted so tightly that her knuckles went white. Anger and resentment for the way she’d had to live in the past six months bubbled up again, burning her throat.
Colton crouched so only a small portion of his head and his weapon were visible as River opened the door.
Her ex was out of breath, and the expression on his face would probably haunt her for months to come. She expected to find hurt and anger and jealousy, emotions that had been all too common during their marriage. Instead, she found panic. His eyes were wide, and he kept blinking. He was nervous.
“I swear I’m not here to hurt anyone. You have to believe me,” he said. He still had that authoritative cop voice but there was a hint of fear present that was completely foreign coming from him.
“Give me one good reason we should listen to you.” Colton didn’t budge. “And keep your hands up where I can see them.
Colton had that same authoritative la
w enforcement voice that demanded attention. Hearing it from River had always caused icy fingers to grip her spine, but her body’s reaction was so different when she heard it come from Colton.
All the angry words that Makena wanted to spew at River died on her tongue. It was easy to see the man was in a panic. Whatever he’d done was catching up to him. That was her first thought.
“I swear on my mother’s life that I’m not here to hurt anyone.” His face was still frozen on the TV that was positioned behind him. He’d taken a couple of steps inside the room and then stopped in his tracks.
“How’d you know I was here?” Makena asked.
“I saw you come in, and they will, too,” came the chilling response.
“Who are they?” Colton asked.
“I can’t tell you and you don’t want to know. Believe me. The only thing you need to be aware of is that your life is in danger.” River’s voice shook with dread and probably a shot of adrenaline.
A half-mirthful, half-frustrated sigh shot from Makena’s throat. He wasn’t telling her anything she didn’t already know.
Makena locked eyes with the terrified older woman at the other end of the counter. Peach kept eye contact with Makena when she pointed at something inside a shelf. It was hidden from view and Makena had a feeling it was some kind of weapon, like a bat or a shotgun.
Makena shook her head. Peach nodded and tilted her head toward it.
“Talk to me, River. Tell me why they would be after me. Is it because of you?” As much as Makena didn’t believe that anymore, she had to ask. She needed to hear from him that wasn’t the case, and she needed to get him talking so she could understand why it seemed like the world was crumbling around her.
“It’s not important what you know. It’s what they think you know. Even more important right now is that you get the hell out of here. Stay low. Stick with this guy.” He motioned toward Colton. “He can probably protect you if you stay out of sight. Just give me time. I need time to straighten everything out.”
“Time? To what? Plant another bomb?” she said.