She failed.
“When I came in from the barn about an hour ago, there was someone in my house,” Rayna said, her voice still a little unsteady. “I didn’t see who it was because he immediately clubbed me on the head and grabbed me from behind.” She winced again when she rubbed her left side. “I think he cracked my ribs when he hit me with something.”
Well, hell. Court certainly hadn’t expected any of this. And reminded himself that maybe it was all a lie, to cover up for the fact that she’d committed a crime. But those wounds weren’t lies. They were the real deal. That didn’t mean that they weren’t self-inflicted.
“I got away from him,” she continued a moment later. “After he hit me a few more times. And I pulled my gun, which I had in a slide holster in the back of my jeans. That’s when he left. I’m not sure where he went.”
That didn’t make sense. “If someone really broke in an hour ago, why didn’t you call the sheriff’s office right away?”
Rayna lifted her head a little and raised her eyebrow. For a simple gesture, it said loads. She didn’t trust the cops. Didn’t trust him.
Well, the feeling was mutual.
“I passed out for a while,” she added. She shook her head as if even she was confused by that, and she lifted the side of her shirt that had the blood. There was a bruise there, too, and what appeared to be a puncture wound. One that had likely caused the bleeding. “Or maybe the guy drugged me.”
“Great,” he muttered. This was getting more far-fetched with each passing moment. “FYI, I’m not buying this. And as for not calling the cops when you were attacked, you called Egan when you saw me,” Court pointed out.
“Because I didn’t want things to escalate to this.” She motioned to their positions on the floor. “Obviously, it didn’t work.”
He huffed. “And neither is this story you’re telling.” Court got to his feet and took out his phone. “Only a couple of minutes before my father was gunned down, a waitress in the diner across the street from the sheriff’s office spotted you in the parking lot. There’s no way you could have been here in your house during this so-called attack because you were in town.”
She quit wincing so she could glare at him. “I was here.” Her tone said I don’t care if you believe me or not.
He didn’t believe her. “You must have known my father had been shot because you didn’t react when I told you.”
“I did know. Whitney called me when I was walking back from the barn. I’d just gotten off the phone with her when that goon clubbed me.”
Whitney Goble, her best friend. And it was entirely possible that Whitney had either seen his father get shot or heard about it shortly thereafter because she worked part-time as a dispatcher for the sheriff’s office. It would be easy enough to check to see if Whitney had indeed called her, and using her cell phone records, they could possibly figure out Rayna’s location when she’d talked to her friend. Court was betting it hadn’t been on Rayna’s walk back from the barn. It had been while she was escaping from the scene of the shooting.
“This waitress claims she saw me shoot your father?” Rayna asked.
He hated that he couldn’t answer yes to that, but Court couldn’t. “She was in the kitchen when the actual shot was fired. But the bullet came from the park directly behind the sheriff’s office parking lot. The very parking lot where you were right before the attack.”
Judging from her repeated flat look, Rayna was about to deny that, so Court took out his phone and opened the photo. “The waitress took that picture of you.”
Court didn’t go closer to her with the phone, but Rayna stood. Not easily. She continued to clutch her side and blew out some short, rough breaths. However, she shook her head the moment her attention landed on the grainy shot of the woman in a red dress. A woman with hair the same color blond as Rayna’s.
“That’s not me,” she insisted. “I don’t have a dress that color. And besides, I wasn’t there.”
This was a very frustrating conversation, but thankfully he had more. He tapped the car that was just up the street from the woman in the photo. “That’s your car, your license plate.”
With her forehead bunched up, Rayna snatched the phone from him and had a closer look. “That’s not my car. I’ve been home all morning.” Her gaze flew to his, and now there was some venom in her eyes. “You’re trying to set me up.” She groaned and practically threw his phone at him. “Haven’t you McCalls already done enough to me without adding this?”
Court caught his phone, but he had to answer her through clenched teeth. “We haven’t done anything.”
She laughed, but there wasn’t a trace of humor in it. “Right. Remember Bobby Joe?” she spat out. “Or did you forget about him?”
Bobby Joe Hawley. No, Court hadn’t forgotten. Obviously, neither had Rayna.
“Three years ago, your father tried to pin Bobby Joe’s murder on me,” Rayna continued. “It didn’t work. A jury acquitted me.”
He couldn’t deny the acquittal. “Being found not guilty isn’t the same as being innocent.”
Something that ate away at him. Because the evidence had been there. Bobby Joe’s blood in Rayna’s house. Blood that she’d tried to clean up. There’d also been the knife found in her barn. It’d had Bobby Joe’s blood on it, too. What was missing were Rayna’s prints. Ditto for the body. They’d never found it, but Rayna could have hidden it along with wiping her prints from the murder weapon.
The jury hadn’t seen it that way though.
Possibly because they hadn’t been able to look past one other piece of evidence. Bobby Joe had assaulted Rayna on several occasions, both while they’d been together and after their breakup when she’d gotten a restraining order against him. In her mind, she probably thought that was justification to kill him. And equal justification to now go after Court’s father, who’d been sheriff at the time. Warren had been the one to press for Rayna’s arrest and trial. After that, his father had retired. But Rayna could have been holding a serious grudge against him all this time.
She’d certainly held one against Court.
He heard the sound of a vehicle pulling up in front of Rayna’s house and knew it was Egan before he glanced out the still-open door. He also knew Egan wouldn’t be pleased. And he was right. His brother was sporting a scowl when he got out of the cruiser and started for the door.
Egan was only two years older than Court, but he definitely had that “big brother, I’m in charge” air about him. Egan had somehow managed to have that even when he’d still been a deputy. Folks liked to joke that he could kick your butt even before you’d known it was kicked.
“If you think Egan is going to let you walk, think again,” Court warned her.
“I won’t let him railroad me,” she insisted, aiming another scowl at Court. “I won’t let you do it, either. It doesn’t matter that we have a history together. That history gives you no right to pull some stunt like this.”
They had a history all right. Filled with both good and bad memories. They’d been high school sweethearts, but that “young love” was significantly overshadowed by the bad blood that was between them now.
Egan stepped into the house, putting his hands on his hips, and made a sweeping glance around the room before his attention landed on Court. “Please tell me you’re not responsible for any of this.”
“I’m not.” At least Court hoped he wasn’t, but it was possible he’d added some to the damage when he tackled her. “Rayna said someone broke in.”
Court figured his brother was also going to have a hard time believing that. It did seem too much of a coincidence that his father would be shot and Rayna would have a break-in around the same time.
“You shouldn’t have come,” Egan said to him in a rough whisper.
Court was certain he’d hear more of that later, but he had a darn good reason f
or being here. “I didn’t want her to escape.”
“And I thought he’d come here to kill me,” Rayna countered. “I pulled a gun on him.” She swallowed hard. “Things didn’t go well after that.”
Egan huffed and grumbled something that Court didn’t catch before he took out his phone and texted someone.
“Court didn’t do any of the damage in this room,” Rayna added. “It happened when an intruder attacked me.”
That only tightened Egan’s mouth even more before he shifted his gaze to Rayna. “An ambulance is on the way. How bad are you hurt?” he asked and put his phone back in his pocket.
She waved it off, wincing again while she did that. Yeah, she was hurt. But Court thought Egan was missing what was really important here.
“She shot Dad,” Court reminded Egan. “We have the picture, remember?” Though he knew there was no way his brother could have forgotten that. “It’s proof she was there. Proof that she shot him.”
“No, it’s not.” Egan groaned, scrubbed his hand over his face. “I think someone tried to set Rayna up.”
Court opened his mouth to say that wasn’t true. But then Egan took out his own phone and showed him a picture.
“A few minutes after you stormed out of the hospital,” Egan continued, “Eldon Cooper, the clerk at the hardware store, found this.”
“This” was a blond-haired woman wearing a red dress. An identical dress to the one in the photo the waitress had taken. But this one had one big difference from the first picture.
In this one, the woman was dead.
Copyright © 2018 by Delores Fossen
ISBN-13: 9781488033483
The Deputy’s Baby
Copyright © 2018 by Tyler Anne Snell
All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 22 Adelaide St. West, 40th Floor, Toronto, Ontario M5H 4E3, Canada.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Intellectual Property Office and in other countries.
www.Harlequin.com
The Deputy's Baby Page 19