by Regan Black
Logic alone dictated that not every toe-curling kiss signaled the beginning of a relationship. She might not have had too many kisses that left her obsessing, but this was Shane. The dinner-and-a-movie thing was probably a ruse to lull her into helping him get information out of Tyler. Or even out of her. She had told him she was a killer, after all.
Her momentary happiness doused by a more sensible theory, she perked up again as another possibility occurred to her. They were teamed up for a stolen dog case. Dinner and a movie could serve as good cover for rescuing Nico and the puppy. If that was it and they succeeded, it would be the best Friday night date she’d had in a long while.
That hopeful thought, combined with the realization that Shane hadn’t hassled Tyler, put a boost in her step as she went to tackle the rest of her workday.
While she was covering the front desk in the early afternoon, Danica saw the florist delivery van arrive. It was hardly an uncommon sight. Every Friday, an enormous bouquet of flowers arrived for Hayley. The woman drew admiring men like flies to honey. She buzzed Hayley in her office to come out and pick it up. Hayley and the delivery driver reached the front desk at the same time, a cloud of fragrant lilies and aromatic greenery filling the air.
“From anyone in particular?” Danica queried out of habit as much as curiosity when the driver had gone. Her brother’s body had scarcely been interred before his almost-widow started receiving overtures from other men, if they’d ever stopped at all.
It wasn’t Hayley’s fault. She had no more control over the genes that turned her into every man’s daydream than Danica had control of the genetics that had shaped her into a short, slim tomboy.
“The card isn’t signed,” Hayley replied. “It’s been anonymous for a while now.” Her smile wobbled a little. “I almost wonder if this isn’t something Bo arranged before…” Her voice trailed off as she breathed in the rich scents of the bouquet.
Danica was fairly certain weekly extravagance had not been synonymous with her brother, but what did she know? She’d thought he’d found his perfect match with Demi Colton.
On the desk, her cell phone buzzed and the display showed a call from Carson. She picked it up as Hayley returned to her office.
“I need a favor,” he said as soon as she answered. “I’ve been called to another assault. The victim is alive, but everyone is edgy.”
“Oh, no.” She glanced up to see Shane and Stumps coming down the hallway. She hadn’t realized they were still here.
“I’ve sent a text to Shane for an evidence team. Naturally, people are already muttering about the Groom Killer, though the victim should survive.”
“That’s a plus. What do you need?” she asked, already suspecting the answer.
“Can you please tell Vincent to knock it off with Valeria? They were seen making out behind the ice cream shop yesterday. It’s no secret they’re still set on getting married. I don’t want to get called out to a scene like this one and find him.”
Her stomach twisted at the thought of losing another brother. “I’ve tried,” Danica reminded him. “We all have.”
“I know, but try again. Please?” Carson said.
“I’m on it.” What else could she say? Carson ended the call with a hurried thank-you and she set her phone aside. “That was Carson,” she said, looking up at Shane. “He said he texted you.”
“Yes.” Shane and Stumps had stopped at the desk, waiting for her to finish the call. Shane looked rather edgy himself. “I hate to ask, but can we reschedule for eight?”
“Absolutely.” There was no way she would miss a chance to recover Nico and the puppy.
He started for the door and stopped halfway through. “What’s up with the flowers Hayley was mooning over?”
“She loves flowers.” Danica waved it off. “Good thing, too.”
He opened his mouth and his phone sounded, cutting him off. He scowled at the display, his mind clearly moving on to the new case in town. “Stumps and I need to go.”
“Happy hunting, you two.”
* * *
Shane didn’t like having to delay the date with Danica, even by an hour. Having seen her face shift through a variety of expressions, giving her reason to doubt his motives seemed like a bad thing to do. On the way to the crime scene, he used his hands-free option and cancelled the reservation he’d made just after sharing lunch. He’d just have to save the fine dining option for the second date.
“What am I doing?” he wondered aloud. In the rearview mirror, he saw his dog cock his head, ears high and alert. There were times when he wished his K9 partner could offer advice. Teaming with Stumps was the closest relationship Shane had taken a risk on since his release from prison.
His mom would have been disappointed by his near-recluse choices had she been alive to weigh in. Holding back, living fully only on the professional side of life, went against everything she’d tried to instill in him.
Shane parked at the curb, last in the line of RRPD cars at the newest scene, and twisted to speak to Stumps. “Ready, bud?” It was time to put his mind on the job. He could evaluate and overthink whatever was going on with Danica later.
The uptick in person-on-person crime was unreal lately. As if having a killer running amok wasn’t bad enough, personal assaults like this one were on the rise. The first assumption with every report these last few months was how it might link up with the Groom Killer case, and rightly so.
This latest crime scene was no different. The victim, Tommy Sutton, claimed he was not engaged to anyone, nor had he recently broken off an engagement. He’d been found trying to crawl out of a delivery alley on Rattlesnake Avenue, just a block off Main Street. Shane and Tommy weren’t particularly close, but he was considered a decent guy. They’d gone to high school together until Shane had been forced to finish his GED as a ward of the state.
Before Shane set Stumps to work, he discussed the assault with the officers on the scene. At first glance, no one could come up with any reason for someone to attack Tommy. His memory was foggy at best, typical of a head injury. He remembered seeing a black gun barrel, but he couldn’t recall hearing a gunshot and the wound in his thigh was superficial, doing more damage to his pants than his leg. The crime scene unit had yet to find a bullet casing.
According to the officer who’d taken his statement, Tommy had no idea how he’d wound up in the alley. His last memory was deciding to take a smoke break outside his office at a restaurant supply company across town. That was as far as the questions went before the paramedics insisted on taking him to the hospital.
Shane and Stumps were to search the alley for the weapon used against Tommy. That was the first priority. Anything to identify the attacker or any sign of the gun Tommy had seen was considered bonus. Based on the results of their searches, Shane could decide how to proceed.
As Shane planned the search, his mind cycled through the similarities of his cases. Both Tommy and the new security guard at the K9 training center had been severely injured by blows to the head with currently unidentified objects. Whatever weapon had been used against the guard had not been around when Shane and Stumps had searched the training center. He was eager for a success here.
Unlike the guard, Tommy had been scored by a bullet. Too early to tell if that was by accident or design. Being single should have removed him from the Groom Killer’s sights. Unless the killer believed otherwise. Secret relationships were becoming the norm in Red Ridge. Tommy also wasn’t into stealing dogs and had never run in the same circles as the Larson twins.
Shane had to consider that either the Groom Killer or the dog thief might be trying to muddy the waters with random violence. If Tommy had been attacked near his office, the last place he remembered, someone should have seen something when he was dumped over here. Not my problem. Other officers were already canvassing the area for potential witnesses.
The
only thing Shane knew without any doubt was that his sister could not have managed these recent attacks. She might have a hot temper but she lacked the motive, as well as the strength. As he walked up and down the alley, giving Stumps a chance to acclimate, he couldn’t come up with anything that connected the stolen dogs to the Groom Killer case, other than the blunt-force trauma in these recent incidents.
Finding the answers, peeling back the layers to reach the truth, was what Shane lived for. The pungent odors of spoiling food and general refuse fought to dominate the alley. It was a rare day when he felt sorry for his dog’s keen sense of smell, and this was one of them. His poor partner deserved a romp in the backyard at home and plenty of savory treats when the work was done today.
Giving Stumps the command to search, he watched his dog lean into the various smells permeating every inch of the alley. The corgi progressed up and down the scene, his waddling gait relaxed and easy until he caught an intriguing scent. Moving with clear purpose, Shane had to lengthen his stride to keep up.
Stumps went unerringly toward a row of garbage bins, and Shane feared his dog had been overwhelmed by the situation until Stumps sat, his long nose wedged as far between the bins and the brick wall as he could get. His back straight, he wouldn’t do anything more than breathe until Shane gave him the command to release.
He used his flashlight to peer into the shadows and the light bounced off what appeared to be a plumber’s wrench. “Winner, winner,” Shane murmured, taking a picture with his phone. He called Stumps off, giving him praise and a treat.
“I think we have one weapon.” Shane called over one of the crime scene techs. Why bash a victim over the head when a gun had clearly been in play?
He and Stumps watched from a safe distance as the tech worked to retrieve the wrench. Shane saw the bloody bits of hair and skin as the wrench was bagged. To the naked eye, the hair was the same color as Tommy’s, though a lab report would be necessary for it to hold up in court. For now, it was enough to keep Shane searching.
“Now we just need a motive and an assailant,” he muttered to Stumps. “Who could have dumped Tommy back here? And why not leave him where he was?”
According to the initial background information, Tommy was now a lead salesman with the restaurant supplier he’d started with as a delivery driver when he was a kid. Although he still made the occasional delivery, the majority of his time was spent managing the bigger accounts in the area from the office.
They already knew he hadn’t come here to deliver anything. Neither the supply truck nor Tommy’s car was anywhere near the alley. His thoughts swirling, Shane walked Stumps a block up and down Rattlesnake Avenue, then a block up and down Main Street. What businesses in the area would order from Tommy? The obvious connections were the restaurants, and the police were handling those interviews. Shane didn’t expect those to amount to much. An assault in a public place around lunchtime should have resulted in an uproar.
“Who else, bud?” Shane murmured, repeating the circuit. His gaze landed on a printing shop. They most likely ordered cocktail napkins for weddings and events from Tommy’s company. Still, with the rash of wedding cancellations courtesy of the Groom Killer, Shane didn’t think an emergency delivery of napkins was very likely and definitely not without a vehicle.
“No way this is the primary scene where Tommy was attacked,” he decided. Shane returned to his SUV and opened the back door for Stumps. “None of this is making much sense.” He slid into the driver’s seat and realized his error immediately. The smells from the alley had followed them, permeating his clothing. Behind him, Stumps sneezed and then gave a hard shake from nose to hindquarters.
“Let’s hope you finding the wrench will lead them to a solid suspect, buddy.” Shane wanted to close at least one of these new open cases. In theory, a case like Tommy’s should be simple to resolve. He would focus on that, since it was freshest.
“Let’s see what we can find over at Tommy’s office,” he said to Stumps.
The dog bounded into the front seat and put his front paws on the dash, peering through the windshield. The little guy loved working. “You know you can’t ride shotgun,” he told Stumps. “Go on.”
Shane started the engine as Stumps resumed his safer place in the back seat. Checking the clock on the dash, he hoped the next search didn’t take them too long. He needed to shower and get the smell out of the car. “You’ll need a bath, too,” he said to Stumps, “or Danica won’t want to hang out with us tonight.”
It was a brief drive to the restaurant supply warehouse planted in the light industrial district on the other side of town. People liked to pretend Red Ridge was only the clean and polished Main Street and newer business and shopping districts where Tommy had been found. Plenty of hands-on labor was accomplished over here, though the buildings weren’t as pretty.
Shane deliberately parked so he could keep his back on the shabbier side of town. There was nothing for him there anymore. Not even his dad wanted to see him. Of course, that had as much to do with Shane’s grief as it did with his career choices. His mom had been his rock growing up on this side of town. She couldn’t give him the address in the nicest neighborhood, but she’d provided well. She’d made sure that their house was neat and tidy and that Shane developed common sense, compassion and a solid work ethic. How often she’d reminded him that nothing was free and life wasn’t supposed to be easy. He’d started mowing yards and picking up odd jobs by the age of ten and when trouble tempted him, it was the dread of disappointing her that kept him in line.
Though she was clear that she didn’t want Shane to follow in his father’s shoes, she never bad-mouthed Rusty or called Shane a mistake like some of the other single moms in the neighborhood had done in front of their kids. Officially, her death certificate listed the cause as a heart attack, but Shane knew it had been heartbreak. He knew she’d wanted to believe he was innocent, but the trumped-up evidence and inability to help Shane had been too much for her to overcome.
Muttering a curse, Shane dragged his thoughts back to the present. This type of melancholy was why he preferred to work his own cases or work with Stumps on county cases as far from Red Ridge and his grimy past as he could get. He’d thought of leaving, yet moving away would only have given the ultimate victory to the Gage clan for driving a Colton out of town.
With Stumps at his side, Shane walked into the restaurant supply front office. A woman with classic round pearls at her ears and throat, dark brown eyes and steely gray hair gaped at him. “Shane Colton. My goodness, you’re a sight.”
“Ma’am?” According to the nameplate on her desk, this was Irene Mixon. Her face was vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t place the name.
“Oh, you don’t need to remember me,” she said with a careless flap of her hand. “I remarried and it’s been ages since you’ve clapped eyes on me.” Standing, she peered over the counter to see Stumps. “Isn’t your partner handsome?”
Stumps, sitting in perfect obedience, tipped his head. Shane made the introductions, adding, “He’s a flirt when he’s off the clock.”
“Then you two are well matched,” Irene laughed. “You were incorrigible as a little boy, certain that big smile would get you out of any trouble.”
Smiling hadn’t been nearly enough once Sergeant Gage decided he was a killer. Being over here was bad for him. He focused on the receptionist. The case. Anything but the past.
Something about her eyes, twinkling over the rims of her half glasses, clicked for him. “You lived next door,” he began.
She beamed indulgently. “And you nipped blackberries off the bush that grew through the fence.”
Shane felt his mouth curve as the fonder memories rushed in. “You didn’t mind that,” he said. “It was whenever I ran my bike over the flowers out front that made you mad.”
Her gaze narrowed. “It was indeed.”
He felt about te
n years old again, sheepish and wishing he hadn’t taken the shortcut to catch up with the bigger boys. He barely kept his shoulders straight and his hands out of his pockets. “Sorry. Again.”
She chuckled. “Why do you think I hired you to mow the grass?”
“I figured Mom begged you,” he replied.
“She didn’t beg,” Irene clarified sternly. “We both thought it would instill a sense of pride that would prevent further mishaps.”
They’d been right, though he never realized it until now. The statement reminded him of Danica’s commitment to Tyler and the other kids at the youth center. Maybe he was letting the kid’s background have too much influence over his assessment.
“What brings the two of you out this way?” she asked.
“Tommy Sutton was attacked a few hours ago. Stumps and I are following up.”
The news startled her and her face paled as she pressed her hands together in front of her mouth. “He’s alive,” Shane said quickly. “He’s been transported to the hospital after giving the police a brief, disjointed statement. I don’t think his injuries are life-threatening.”
“Well, thank goodness for small favors.” Irene glanced at her computer monitor tucked discreetly under the counter. “I thought he was in the office all day.”
“No appointments on his calendar?”
She shook her head.
“He said he went out for a smoke and the next thing he knew, he was in a delivery alley just off Rattlesnake and Main.”
Irene pointed toward the front window. “How did he get over there? That’s his car. It’s been here since he got in this morning.”
“That’s one of my questions, too,” Shane said. “Stumps and I are here to see if we can find any clues.” He wasn’t about to admit he was looking for the original crime scene and upset her further.
“Oh, of course,” Irene said. “Whatever we can do to help. We all adore Tommy.”