A slight movement in her peripheral vision caught April’s attention, but she kept her gaze focused on her brother, pretending to be fascinated by his words when in reality she’d grown tired of him and his confessions.
Maybe he was right. Maybe she’d always known what he was on some level. Now that his mask had completely slipped, he no longer bore any resemblance to the brother she’d tried to build up in her mind.
He’d murdered her mother. Set up her father. Tricked her into staying away from the man she loved.
While Adam opened his mouth to continue his bragging, his jaw dropped and his eyes bugged out of his skull.
The weapon in his hand wavered, and April dropped to the sand.
Clay had emerged from the tunnel like some avenging desert creature of the night, tackling Adam to the ground. Adam squeezed off a shot that pinged off the rock where she’d just been sitting.
The gun must’ve recoiled in his hand when he pulled the trigger because as Clay took him down, it flew from his grasp. The two men grappled on the ground, Clay clawing the sand to reach his own weapon that he’d placed just outside the cave to wrap his arms around Adam’s legs and destabilize him.
Adam’s wiry strength and manic energy made up for the weight and muscle difference between him and Clay. As Clay landed a punch on Adam’s face, Adam squirmed out from beneath him and scrabbled for Clay’s gun, shoved up against the rock.
An adrenaline rush surged through April’s system and she launched herself forward, snatching up the weapon that had flown out of Adam’s hand. Her weapon.
Hitching up to her knees, she swung the gun toward the two men rolling closer to the other gun, Adam’s fingers stretching out for the barrel.
“Stop!” She wrenched the word from her parched throat. “Stop, now. Leave the gun, Adam.”
He smiled through bleeding lips. “You’re not going to do it, April. I’m your little brother.”
As both Adam and Clay made a final, desperate grab for the gun, April took aim and fired.
Epilogue
April buried her face in Denali’s fur, the coarse texture tickling her nose. “How’s the progress on those tunnels going?”
Clay placed a glass of wine on the firepit, and the flickering reds and oranges filtered through the shimmering liquid. “We’ve gotten to half of them already. Some are crude, some are sophisticated, all were conduits for drugs and God knows what else for Las Moscas.”
“It’s a gold mine of information, isn’t it?” April stretched her hand to the fire and wiggled her fingers before pinching the stem of the wineglass and taking a sip of the cold chardonnay.
“Thanks to you.”
She tipped her glass in Clay’s direction. “Officially, thanks to you.”
“Less complicated for me to take credit for shooting and killing your brother than you.” He swirled the wine in his glass. “Unless you’ve changed your mind.”
She shoved her hair behind her ear and sniffed. “I don’t want it to be known that I killed Adam—even though he deserved it.”
“Not only did he deserve it, you took the shot in self-defense. He’d abducted you at gunpoint, and if he’d reached that gun before I did, he would’ve killed you.”
“At that moment, I didn’t even think about that.” She ran her fingertip around the rim of her glass. “It was you I was worried about. Always you, Clay.”
He pushed up to his feet and sat next to her on the other side of the firepit in his backyard. He set down his glass and draped his arm around her shoulders. “Misplaced worry. If you had just told me two years ago that someone was threatening you, threatening us, I probably could’ve nipped this entire thing in the bud.”
“If we’d gone through with the wedding, Adam would’ve killed you. I’m sure of that.” She grabbed his fingers brushing her arm, and entwined hers with them. “Why didn’t my parents try to get him help?”
“Maybe they just didn’t recognize what he was. You didn’t.”
“I was a child, and he was my younger brother.”
“You didn’t recognize him for what he was even when you were both adults. I guess he got better at hiding the fact that he didn’t have any real emotions, no human feeling.”
“He’s right. I didn’t want to see it. Especially after Mom...died and Dad disappeared.” She bolted upright. “Dad should know. He should know he’s no longer a suspect in Mom’s murder.”
Clay stroked his hand down her back. “Maybe someday, April. If he really is El Gringo Viejo, you don’t want him back in your life, anyway.”
“If?” She cranked her head to the side. “You were so sure he wasn’t. What changed?”
“Adam believed it with all his heart—of course, that’s not saying much. Did he convince you?”
“I’m not sure. He would never tell me what evidence he had.”
“You know what’s curious?”
“Lots of things. What?”
“The other female mule? They ID’d her. She was an ex-pat living in Mexico, may have had connections to El Gringo Viejo.”
“Which means El Gringo Viejo may be working against Las Moscas?”
“Maybe. He’s Mexico’s problem right now. We’ll have our hands full destroying those tunnels.”
“Hey, you two.” Meg stood at the patio door, music floating outside from behind her. “The party’s in here...or maybe not.”
April waved. “We’ll be there in a minute.”
When Meg closed the door, Clay scooted in closer and nuzzled her hair. “Or two, or three.”
Cupping his jaw, she whispered, “Have I ever told you I love you?”
“Not for a few years, but your actions speak louder than those three words ever could.” He kissed her throat. “Don’t ever try to protect me again without telling me about it first. Besides, that’s my job.”
“That’s our job, together. Isn’t that what’s in the wedding vows?”
“I’m not sure. I never got to say those vows.”
“Me, either.”
“When are we going to remedy that?”
“How close is Vegas?”
“Not close enough.”
And as Clay wrapped his arms around her and pressed a kiss against her willing mouth, she whispered against his lips, “Not close enough.”
* * *
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What She Saw
by Barb Han
Chapter One
Deputy Courtney Foster sat at the oblong wooden conference table in the sheriff’s office, clicking a pen. The distraction helped her focus on work and not the sick feeling swirling in her stomach, building, threatening to send her racing to the trash can. She’d skipped her usual early-morning cup of coffee in favor of salted crackers.
“I just got a call from the Meyers,” her boss, Zach McWilliams, said on a frustrated-sounding sigh. “They’ve decided it’s not safe in Jacobstown anymore. Trip Meyer made a point of telling me that he’s afraid for his daughters to come home from the university over spring break.”
“I’m sorry,” Courtney offered.
Deputy Lopez shuffled into the room with coffee in hand and took a seat next her.
“Morning,” he practically grumbled.
“Does 5:00 a.m. count as morning? Or is it still the night
before?” She tried to lighten the heavy mood.
“Technically, I think it’s still the night before,” Lopez agreed.
Everyone was up early and taking extra shifts in order to ensure the town’s safety.
“Do we know the exact timeline for when the small-animal killings began?” she asked Zach. He’d been working on the case with a volunteer. Lone Star Lonnie was also a close family friend and foreman of KR, Kent Ranch, one of the largest and wealthiest ranches in the state of Texas.
“We’ve been able to reach back as far as a year ago with the help of a forensic team out of Fort Worth,” Zach responded.
The twisted psycho who had been dubbed the Jacobstown Hacker had begun killing small animals a year ago? The man had moved onto a heifer, butchering its left hoof and then leaving the poor animal to bleed out and die near Rushing Creek on the Kent Ranch.
There’d been more heifer killings after that, spaced out over weeks. It appeared that the twisted jerk had begun on small animals like rabbits and squirrels before moving on to bigger game. All the animals he’d butchered had been females, which had been a warning sign to all the women in town. And he graduated to killing a person—Breanna Griswold.
An investigation revealed that the twenty-seven-year-old victim had been in and out of group homes in Austin for the seven years of her life leading up to her last. She’d grown up in Jacobstown but had moved away during high school. Courtney remembered her from years ago. Breanna had moved back to town a couple of months before her murder.
She was a loner, known to sleep in random places around town when she was on a bender. She was murdered with the same MO as the animals—a severed left foot.
With Breanna’s recent murder and the fact the killer was still on the loose, everyone seemed on edge. Courtney started working the clicker on the pen in double time.
“Do you mind?” Deputy Lopez motioned toward the noisemaker in her hand. Lopez was average height, in his mid-thirties and had dark hair and eyes. He was medium build and had a pronounced nose.
“Sorry.” Courtney released the pen, and it tumbled onto the desk. Her unsettled stomach made all kinds of embarrassing sounds. For the second time this morning, Courtney thought she might throw up on the deputy who was seated next to her.
She was pretty certain that Lopez would not be amused. She’d been on the job a few weeks now and was still getting her bearings in the small, tight-knit sheriff’s office. Coming home to Jacobstown was supposed to be a safe haven from her stressful job working for Dallas Police Department as a beat cop...
An involuntarily shiver rocked her as she thought about the past, about what had happened in Dallas.
“We’re no closer to finding answers. Breanna deserves better from us.” Zach tapped his knuckles on the table. Everyone knew the victim and her circumstances. Her only family, a mother and a brother, had walked away from her and moved to Austin years ago. Breanna had tracked them down there, but rumor had it she became homeless shortly after.
Her mother had a reputation for drinking and using physical violence on her children. Even so, every mother—even the bad ones—deserved justice for a murdered daughter. Breanna had been a grown woman who made her own mistakes, but people cared that she was gone. The horrific murder had rocked the bedroom community.
Another bout of nausea struck, and Courtney’s breakfast threatened to make another appearance. She glanced up in time to see Zach staring at her.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
“I’ll be fine.” She could only hope this would pass soon. “I’m sure I ate something bad at the potluck yesterday. I should know better by now, but I can’t resist beef and bean taco casserole.”
“You’re braver than I.” Lopez cracked a smile, breaking the tension. Courtney glanced at the scar on his neck. He’d taken a bullet trying to protect a mother and daughter a few months ago, when the quiet town had experienced its first crime wave since the Hacker began his work.
“I stick to vegetables and dessert. No one ever got sick from eating raw carrots,” Lopez touted.
“No one ever enjoyed them, either.” Courtney smiled, but it was weaker than she wanted it to be. She couldn’t force it right now through another wave. Acid burned her throat, and it was taking all her energy to keep from losing it.
“Tasted fine to me.” Lopez shrugged.
“We’re short on solid leads.” Zach steered the meeting back on track, and the mood immediately shifted to all business. Zach had mentioned that she’d be a good addition to his team when he hired her. The Jacobstown Hacker was all anyone could think about, he’d said. The town needed someone with big-city experience. People were getting anxious. Everyone was willing to pitch in to help, which created a whole different kind of chaos. A volunteer room had been set up in the office down the hallway, where folks volunteered to man the tip line.
The fact that people cared about each other was one of the many reasons Courtney had moved back to Jacobstown. She’d missed that small-town feel when she lived in a big city. The sheer volume of cases in Dallas caused law enforcement to focus most of its energy on high-priority cases. Whereas here at home, even the marginalized were cared for. People looked out for each other as best they could, and that included every resident. Even the ones who seemed intent on harming themselves.
Courtney had friends here. She’d been good friends with Zach’s younger sister, Amy. She’d also been close to Amy’s cousin Amber Kent at one time. But Courtney didn’t want to think about the Kents. Especially not Jordan, who’d been two years ahead of her in school when they were all kids. He’d also ignored her for most of her life and teased her as teenagers. And then there were those few days at the cabin six weeks ago.
That week, great as it had been, was over. He’d gone back to Idaho and the property his family owned there, and she’d moved on to start her new job as a deputy for his cousin.
“Is there no one besides Reggie Barstock on our suspect list?” Courtney asked.
Zach shook his head.
“There have to be others,” she continued.
“No one as strong as Reggie,” Deputy Lopez said.
“Because he has a criminal record?” She didn’t see how burglaries catapulted him into the category of serial killer. “How old is Reggie now?”
“Thirty-three.” Zach clasped his hands and rested them on the conference table.
“I didn’t know him very well growing up. He was quite a few years older than me, but I’m picturing someone with a higher IQ here. Am I alone?” From everything she knew about serial killers, they were intelligent, lacked a conscience but could be incredibly charming when it served them. At least, the ones who got away with their crimes were. And this perpetrator had the presence of mind to ensure he left no DNA behind. That took some calculating on his part.
The first heifer had been found near Rushing Creek, and the other animals had eventually been found near there. Breanna had been discovered two miles up the creek on the Kent family property. Courtney would have to speak to family members as part of the investigation. She figured it wouldn’t be too difficult to bypass Jordan, since he lived out of state. The last thing she wanted to do was run into him again while she still felt so vulnerable after their fling.
“Do you have any other ideas for suspects?” Lopez leaned toward her.
“No. But the Jacobstown Hacker is careful, calculating. He’s methodical,” she continued. “I’m not completely convinced that I’m seeing that in Reggie’s file.”
“I feel the same way about Gus Stanton.” Lopez snapped his fingers. “He’s been home on worker’s comp after an accident a few years ago unloading his rig. He lives on the outskirts of town on a couple of acres. Keeps to himself mostly.”
Having returned to town a month and a half ago, Courtney had to defer to Lopez and the sheriff for up-to-date information about residents. She hadn�
��t heard of Gus Stanton growing up, so he must’ve moved to the area after she’d left.
“Why don’t you go out and check on him? See if you can get a feel for his emotional state,” Zach said. “If he has a bad left foot from the accident, I want to know about it.”
“Does Gus have a family?” Courtney asked. The guy she was looking for was a loner.
“He’s divorced with two kids. I believe his ex moved the kids to New Braunfels to be with her folks a couple of years back,” Zach supplied.
“Sounds like we’ve doubled our list of suspects,” Courtney said. There were half a dozen names that had been submitted and cleared almost immediately. The pair of suspects they had didn’t exactly fit the loose profile they’d developed. It was impossible not to feel like they were letting the community down.
All the townsfolk were antsy, sitting on pins and needles in anticipation of another strike. People had taken to locking their doors and looking at their neighbors twice. Tips were coming in, but most people were on the wrong track. Every kid who’d ever thrown a rock in the wrong place at the wrong time had been named as a possible lead.
Zach leaned back in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose as though to stem a headache. “Since Lopez is taking Gus, why don’t you interview Reggie’s former teachers, friends, neighbors. See what you can come up with about what kind of student he was. If he’s smarter than we’re giving him credit for, I want to know that, too.”
“Will do, Zach.” It was habit to call him by his first name after growing up friends with his sister, and yet it felt awkward after the formality of working in a big-city department.
Courtney picked up the pen and started clicking it again. She caught herself this time and set the pen down. She stretched her long, lean fingers over it.
“Go see what you can find out, and we’ll meet again tomorrow.” Zach glanced up at the whiteboard on the adjacent wall, where there were two names.
Evasive Action (Holding the Line Book 1) Page 19