by Debra Webb
Branch grinned. “You always were a feisty one.”
He had no idea. The image of that cold, damp basement beneath the newspaper flitted through her head. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Come on.” He jerked his head toward the counter. “We’ll see what Sheriff Tanner has to say when I tell him I’m taking custody of his prisoner.”
Audrey couldn’t help herself—she smiled. “One of these days you two are going to have to put your gridiron days behind you.”
“I doubt that’s going to happen before one or both of us is laid out for visitation over at DuPont Funeral Home.”
Like the family newspaper, DuPont Funeral Home was one of the oldest establishments in Winchester. Though Branch meant that remark as a joke, Audrey couldn’t laugh. DuPont had taken care of her father after he died. She had no desire to see anyone else she cared about inside that old Victorian house–turned–funeral home.
The thought of the spooky old place made her shudder.
“You cold, Rey?” he asked as he ushered her through the swinging doors.
“I’m good. Thank you.”
She heard the muffled sound of that bell over the entrance door again and two more uniforms crowded into the bakery kitchen. These two she recognized from last night. The evidence techs.
“I should probably stay over here,” she said to Branch when he started for the storeroom door.
He gave her a nod and moved on. Audrey was perfectly content to watch. If she leaned forward ever so slightly she could see Colt in the office with Ruby. She could imagine the poor woman was terrified.
Pies prepared for sliding into the ovens lined the stainless counter of one table. Audrey stepped back to ensure she was not in view of the office door and snapped a photo of the pies. The dusting of flour on the shiny steel provided a perfect backdrop to the pies. It wasn’t the sort of grisly photo she generally took at a crime scene, but this was a Southern small town. Readers would eat this up.
Having been caught in situations like this before, she sent the photo to her email, then deleted both it and the one of the dead man from her phone. Colt would want to check her phone. While she was at it, she deleted the calls to and from Brian. Feeling cocky, she leaned against the wall next to the sink a few feet from the swinging doors. On the wall above the sink was another handmade sign. This one ordered employees to wash their hands before waiting on customers and then again when returning to the kitchen.
She wondered if Wesley Sauder had come to the bakery and found himself face-to-face with the man lying on the floor in the storeroom, while his wife was being visited by the man she’d shot in her kitchen.
If Sauder was dead, his wife would likely say so.
He was in hiding, Audrey would bet. Somehow he had crossed the mob and they were after him. It wasn’t necessary to be a cop to know that whoever sent these guys wouldn’t stop until he achieved his goal. If anyone in local law enforcement had any doubts, they should be fully convinced now.
Colt came out of the office. His gaze landed on her and his lips tightened. She noticed when she examined his face for tells. He was still angry.
He strode over to her. “What the hell are you doing back here?”
She held up her hands. “Branch uncuffed me and brought me back here. He told me to wait in this spot and I’ve been doing exactly that.” Before Colt could open his mouth and unleash the storm of fury whirling in his eyes, she added, “There are reporters out front. He didn’t want any of them to see me.”
He certainly couldn’t deny the validity of the excuse. Instead, he grabbed her by the arm. “Come with me.”
She blinked. Before she could demand what he meant, he executed an about-face and strode to the door marked Employees Only. She followed. Once inside the cramped bathroom, he shut the door.
“Are you trying to get on my last nerve?”
Maybe the bad night he’d had was making his temper flare so easily. The Colt she knew was generally far more patient than this.
“I am not. I was here for a scone. To my knowledge that isn’t against the law.” He didn’t have to know she’d stopped in hopes of seeing Sarah. “When Ruby screamed, we both ran to where she was.” She shrugged. “And you arrested me. I’m a victim of circumstance.”
He plowed a hand though his hair, reminding her of all the times she used to do that.
Stop.
“I’m sorry I took my frustration out on you.” He heaved a big breath. “But you shouldn’t have gone into that storeroom. You went too far, Rey.”
“His name is Casey Pranno. He was an associate of Mr. Marcello’s—the other dead guy.”
Colt closed his eyes for a second, shook his head. “Please tell me you did not take a picture of that man’s body and send it to anyone.”
Okay, so she had no choice but to tell him. “Only to Brian. We’re not printing it. I’ve already deleted it from my phone.”
“You swear to me, Rey. Swear right now that you will not print that photo.”
If he hadn’t sounded and looked so damned desperate she might have made him beg a little more. “I swear, Colt. You know me better than that. I would never disrespect your office.” She shrugged again. “Not unless you made me by leaving me out and blocking my efforts to do my job.”
“Okay.” Another big breath deflated his lungs. “You can go now if you like.”
“You mean I’m not under arrest?”
He glanced at the ceiling.
“I didn’t tell Branch what I just told you.”
Looking down at her, he held her gaze for a moment that lapsed into two. And in that extra second she felt the heat and desire for him that she had not felt since that first time he kissed her in eighth grade.
“Thank you.”
She nodded, uncertain of her voice.
“You can go out the back to avoid the reporters.”
“Won’t do any good.” She’d only just realized this part. “My car is out front.”
Her vanity plate read PAPRGRL. Everyone knew who drove that car.
“All right. You can stay back here but stick to that sink over there like it’s your long-lost best friend. Do not move from that spot.”
“I won’t.”
He reached for the door, the move putting his face so very close to hers.
“As long as you give me an exclusive sound bite,” she added.
He turned, looked directly at her, practically nose to nose. “I’ll give you whatever you want, Rey. I always have.”
And then he was gone.
She leaned against the wall, had to wait until her heart stopped pounding before she moved.
She was not, was not going to get tangled up with Colt Tanner again.
Never, ever, ever.
Chapter Seven
Colt pulled loose the posted warning that proclaimed the Sauder house to be a crime scene and folded it in half. He used the key that belonged to Sarah to unlock the front door of her home. Both the Sauder home and the bakery were now crime scenes. He walked into the house and turned on the overhead light. It was late afternoon with plenty of daylight left, but the windows were darkened with curtains and sheers.
Though this wasn’t the first time in his career he’d had murder scenes to investigate two days in a row, it was the first time both scenes had belonged to the same family. He moved around the living room. A sofa sat on one side of the room; a couple of rockers flanked the fireplace. Not much else in the way of furnishings or decor. There was an old rotary phone on one of the side tables. The few Mennonites who had phones were the ones who were business owners. Most didn’t care for the bothersome devices. A walk through the four bedrooms revealed the same: beds with plain linens, a chest with drawers—most of which were empty—and a few modest garments hanging in the tiny closets.
Each room in the
house had been searched and scrutinized for evidence not once, but twice. There was nothing here that seemed connected to the dead man or Chicago and certainly not to organized crime. The one bathroom in the house revealed even less. Homemade soap and shampoo, towels hanging over the rim of the tub. There was a straight razor, a comb and a brush. Beyond the place on the wood floor where the small pool of blood had left its stain, the kitchen offered only the necessities. Pots and pans, the dishes and glassware in the cabinets. A well-stocked pantry. One drawer held a couple of tablecloths. Another was packed with hand towels and oven mitts. None of the fingerprints taken from the home were found in any databases. Made sense, since the dead guy had been wearing gloves.
Colt checked the back door. The victim had entered the home through that door. The lock was a piece of cake for even an amateur burglar. A guy like Marcello likely unlocked the door with his eyes closed and one hand behind his back. Colt had suggested Sarah have a dead bolt installed. If her husband wasn’t handy with a drill and a screwdriver, Colt felt confident one of her brothers could handle the job.
After locking up and taking a walk around the yard, he loaded in his truck and headed for the Yoder place. He would talk to her again, see if she’d suddenly remembered anything she was too upset to recall last night. Colt didn’t see any reason not to release her house. His evidence technicians had searched the house thoroughly, including checking for loose floorboards and hidden nooks in the walls, the crawl space and the attic. There was nothing useful to the investigation in the Sauder home. Whatever secrets they were keeping, they’d left nothing for anyone to find.
Melvin Yoder’s farm was barely two miles down the road. The house sat on a rise overlooking pastures in front. Cows grazed, barely noticing as Colt turned onto the long drive. Behind the house, fields already prepared for crops extended for as far as the eye could see. Beyond all that were the woods. Yoder owned hundreds of acres. His name was well known throughout the county. He had a reputation for honesty and kindness. Would he have taken in a man with connections to organized crime?
Not knowingly, Colt was certain. He’d heard rumors of a falling-out between Yoder and Sauder, but so far no one had confirmed as much. Maybe this afternoon he’d learn the whole story. After talking to Sarah, he needed to stop by the bakery and check on the progress his evidence techs were making. Then he’d need to follow up with Branch. He wasn’t about to let Branch get too far ahead of him or leave him out of the loop in this investigation.
He thought about how Branch had removed Audrey’s handcuffs this morning. Colt had always suspected that Branch liked her. He really didn’t have any right to be jealous or to begrudge the other man a shot at a relationship with Audrey. But the thought tore him apart inside.
Colt parked behind the minivan that belonged to Sarah Sauder. He got out of his truck and shut the door. The chickens pecking at insects around the yard raised their heads and eyed him speculatively. The dog stretched out on the front porch didn’t bother lifting its head, but its tail swept back and forth across the worn wood. Colt remembered the dog as a pup from his first weeks in the department as a brand-new eager deputy. He and his father had stopped by to offer their condolences when Mrs. Yoder passed away. Pepper had to be fifteen or sixteen years old now. No wonder she didn’t bother getting up.
Before he took his first step toward the house, his cell vibrated in his hip pocket. He tugged it out, hoping like hell it wasn’t another murder. Key flashed on the screen. Colt sighed and paused to take the call from his son. “What’s up?”
“How am I supposed to get home from school?”
It wasn’t quite three yet, but the dismissal bell would be ringing any minute. “Take the bus.”
“No way.”
The shock in the two words reverberated loud and clear across the airwaves. Key hadn’t ridden the school bus since he was in third grade and it was the thing to do with all his friends. After that, his mother or Colt had taken him to school and picked him up until he was sixteen and started driving himself. At almost eighteen, the bus was so not cool.
Too bad.
“Like I told you this morning, take the bus or walk.”
Colt had given him strict orders about transportation. No going anywhere in a vehicle with his friends. No rides to and from school from his mom or Colt. He rode the bus or he walked. End of story.
The call ended.
Colt shook his head. Part of him felt like a heel for being so hard on the kid, but the cop in him knew better than to ignore the warning signs of trouble. If he got away with drinking and driving now, it would only get worse later. The idea that his son could have killed himself or someone else last night terrified Colt.
Damn his ex for allowing the boy to run wild. Damn him for letting her do it. Watching his son stagger across the yard had been a serious wake-up call.
The chill in the morning air was long gone. The afternoon sun was beating down as if it were summer already instead of the final days of winter. But then that was life in the South.
He climbed the steps and crossed the porch. A pot of tulips not quite ready to bloom sat next to the door. Melvin’s wife had been dead for years now. Sarah probably kept her mother’s flowers going. Melvin Yoder didn’t seem like the type to plant or weed flowers. Then again, when a man loved a woman so much, he might do most anything to keep the things that meant something to her going.
Colt would never tell a soul, but he kept all the things he’d given Rey and the things she’d given him in the closet of his room, including the locket he gave her when they were thirteen. After they broke up, she’d packed up every single gift he’d ever given her and shipped them back. Her momma could have dropped it off if Rey didn’t want to, but he’d figured she wanted to make a statement by using a delivery service. There was something final about getting that box delivered by a stranger.
He’d opened the box a hundred times over the years.
“Kind of pathetic, Colt,” he muttered as he raised his fist and rapped on the wood frame of the screen door.
It was quiet beyond the door. He’d been in Melvin’s house before, when he was a teenager. No television. There had been a radio but it hadn’t been turned on at the time. Colt had come with his daddy to tell the family that their younger daughter, Bethany, was in the hospital after a drug overdose.
Bethany had survived but her relationship with her family hadn’t. She’d ended up taking off for Nashville to try making it as a country music singer. Truth was, she was pretty good. But Music City had been hard on her. Eventually she’d shown up back in Winchester waitressing at one bar or another.
No one in her family had spoken to her since the day she left town, fifteen years ago. She was thirty-one now, just a couple of years younger than Sarah. Living in Winchester and totally ostracized from her family had to be tough.
The door opened and Aaron Yoder stood on the other side of the screen door. Colt sure hated to do this at Melvin’s house but the second murder and Sarah’s avoidance pretty much left him out of options.
“Afternoon, Sheriff,” he said. “You here to see Sarah?”
Colt nodded. “I figured she was home.” He jerked his head toward the driveway and her parked van. “Is Wesley here?”
Aaron’s jaw tightened—just a little, but Colt noticed. “No, sir. He’s not here. You want to come in and talk to Sarah? She just got the children down for a nap.”
Colt grimaced. “I don’t want to disturb the kids. She could sit on the porch with me a few minutes if she doesn’t mind.”
“No need. The children are in the back bedroom.” Aaron reached to open the screen door; Colt stepped back. “Come on in.”
“Thanks.” Colt crossed the threshold, removed his hat and glanced around. “How’s your daddy?”
“Not too good,” Aaron admitted as he closed the door. “He sleeps a lot now. They say that’s normal at this sta
ge.”
Cancer was an ugly disease. “I hope all this business at Sarah’s house and at the bakery hasn’t been too hard on him.”
“He doesn’t want to talk about it, so I let it go.”
“Sheriff.”
Aaron’s posture stiffened at the sound of his sister’s voice. Definite tension.
“I’m sorry to have to bother you again, Sarah. But I need to ask you a few more questions in light of what we found at the bakery this morning.”
She nodded once. “Come into the sitting room, Sheriff. You want some water? I have lemonade, too.”
“No, thank you, ma’am.”
“I need to check on Poppa,” Aaron said before disappearing down the hall.
When Sarah had settled on the couch, Colt sat down in one of the chairs flanking a table. “Sarah, I really do need to speak with your husband. Can you tell me how to find him?”
She turned her hands up. “With all that’s happened, he’s going door-to-door reassuring everyone that we’ve nothing to fear.”
“Sarah, does your husband know either of the men who were killed on your property?”
She moved her head side to side. “He surely does not. We believe the one who broke into our home killed the other man in the bakery and then came to our house. There has to be some kind of mistake. We don’t know these men or why they’ve come all this way to do whatever it is they intended to do.”
“You know your husband lived near Chicago and both these men are from Chicago. They worked together, so I’m not inclined to believe they just drove down to Tennessee to kill each other.”
A shrug lifted her cotton-clad shoulders. “I sure don’t know what to tell you, Sheriff. We’re as confused as you are.”
“Sarah.” He leaned forward, braced his forearms on his knees, his hat in his hands. “Whatever these men are after, the people who sent them won’t stop just because the first round of their soldiers has been taken care of. There will be others. If you or your husband knows of some reason they want to hurt your family, you need to share that information with me. It could mean the difference between life and death.”