by Cindi Myers
Bending, he ran his hands across the gravel. “It’s pretty thick. Enough to keep an SUV from getting too dirty,” he said as he rose and brushed the dirt off his hand.
She was satisfied by that assessment, but not about any possible delay. “Why tomorrow?” she asked, eager to do the search as soon as possible.
Jackson pulled her door open and she sat, but he didn’t join her right away. He leaned his arms across the top of the door and peered away from her as he said, “Today we see Matt again—”
“Why?” she asked, wondering at the reason for another visit.
Jackson met her gaze. “We press on why he spent so much time up here and why he says his car was dirty. Maybe even push him to let us examine his SUV again.”
“They found Selene’s blood in the house. On the sofa in the living room. Matt claimed it was from a nosebleed,” Rhea said and tried not to picture Matt hitting Selene. Hurting her.
“I know it’s hard but try not to think about that. We have to stay objective,” Jackson urged.
Rhea expelled a sigh. “Objective. She’s my sister. A part of me I still feel in here.” She laid a hand over her heart.
“I get it. When my sister finally told me about what was happening to her, I wanted to rip the guy apart, but that wouldn’t have helped her,” Jackson said. “We can help Selene by keeping calm and following all our leads.”
He was right, but it didn’t make it any easier. However, she would do as Jackson said. Well, for now. She wasn’t about to roll over if she didn’t agree with what he planned.
“So Matt first. Then Avalon PD. And tomorrow?”
“I arrange for my friend with the dogs to help us scope out the base of the ridge.”
He shut the door, walked around and slipped into the driver’s seat. Executing a K-turn, he started the drive back down the road. They had only gone about halfway when a shot rang out and pinged against the metal of the cruiser.
“Get down!” Jackson shouted and pushed her down with his hand.
Rhea’s heart thumped loudly as she struggled with her seat belt. Another shot and ping rang out. She finally got her belt free and sank even lower, burrowing against the dash and hoping it would provide cover.
Jackson had thrown his door open and knelt behind it for protection as he scoured the area for signs of the shooter. Another shot rang out, coming straight at them. Jackson grabbed his cellphone and called 911.
“Shots fired! Shots Fired! Aspen Ridge Road.”
“Say again,” the dispatcher responded.
“Shots fired. Aspen Ridge Road.”
Another bullet pinged against the door by Rhea.
“Identify yourself,” the dispatcher asked.
“Detective Whitaker. Regina PD. I’m on Aspen Ridge Road. We’re pinned down. Shots fired.”
“Sending backup,” the dispatcher said.
Jackson reached for his own weapon and shouted out to their assailant. “Police! Backup’s on the way!”
The response was the roar of a car engine starting up and the squeal of tires as they took off.
Jackson peered at her. “You okay?”
She nodded, unable to say a word, throat tight with fear. Heart pounding so loudly it was almost all she could hear.
Jackson rose, and she screamed out, “Jax, no! He could still be there.”
“He’s gone, Rhea. It’s okay.” He held his hand out to help her up.
Jackson swallowed up her delicate hand with his, and it was impossible to miss the violent trembling of her body. She was shaking so hard her teeth were chattering and he yanked off his jacket, leaned in and covered her with it. “It’s okay, Rhea,” he said again and tucked the jacket around her.
“Thank you,” she said, teeth knocking together.
The screeching sound of a siren approached, followed by the crunch of gravel as a cruiser shot up the road until they were in sight of his car.
He held his hands up in the air and walked into plain sight. “Detective Whitaker. I think the shooter took off down the highway.”
One of the Avalon police officers exited the car and called out, “Did you see what they were driving?”
Jackson shook his head. He’d been too busy making sure Rhea was safe and taking cover himself to see the vehicle. “Sorry. I didn’t.”
The officer said something to his partner, who also got out of the car. The duo approached and Jackson greeted them. “Detective Whitaker. Regina PD.”
“Officers Watson and Hughes,” Officer Watson said, and the other officer added, “You’re a long way from home, Detective.”
Cops could be territorial, and he got it. No one liked someone else stepping on their toes. “I am. I’m meeting with your chief later about the Davis case. I’ve got her sister with me,” he said and gestured to his cruiser.
The two officers shared a look, and then Watson took a small notebook from his jacket pocket. “How many shots fired?”
“Four. They all hit the cruiser. I was just going to check it out,” he said with a toss of his hand toward the vehicle.
They walked to Rhea’s side of the car where two shots had hit the passenger door. The road angled at that point, exposing Rhea’s section of the vehicle.
“He had a clear shot at your passenger,” Officer Hughes said as he knelt by the bullet dings in the door. “Low caliber, as well,” he added.
Jackson examined the damage and couldn’t disagree. He glanced at the impressions on the door and imagined where the bullets may have ricocheted. He walked to his side of the car and noticed a mark along the dirt wall on his side of the road. He went there as the two officers examined the opposite area and a stand of trees.
He smiled at the glint of metal in the dirt wall. “I’ve got a bullet here,” he called out to the officers.
“We have some damage to the bark but finding anything will be tough. Lots of duff in this area,” Officer Hughes said while Watson came over. He took a small evidence bag from his pocket, and Jackson gestured to the bullet.
Watson dug out the slug with a pen knife. Deposited it into the evidence bag. He held it up for Jackson to see. “Definitely a .22. Small caliber, but it could have gone through the doors.”
Jackson nodded. “He would have hit Rhea if that had happened. I wonder why he didn’t go through the window or the windshield.”
“You think she was the target?” Watson asked, one eyebrow raised in emphasis.
Jackson had no doubt about it. Between the intruder at the inn and now this, someone clearly wanted to scare Rhea off the investigation. Or worse.
He nodded. “She is, but they’re going to be sorely surprised. Rhea isn’t going to give up until we figure out what happened to her sister.”
“We cleared Davis,” the officer said, but there was something in the other man’s tone that hinted at more.
“Seems like you’re not buying the official story,” Jackson said.
The officer looked toward his partner, who gave him a “Go ahead” jerk of his head.
“We both always thought the story stunk, but we just couldn’t get enough evidence. If you’ve got it, we’re all for you putting that bastard behind bars,” Watson said.
Jackson tipped his hat in thanks. “Appreciate it. Right now I think we’re going to see that bastard, ask where’s he’s been the last hour and if he owns a rifle.”
“We’ll meet you there for backup,” Watson said.
CHAPTER EIGHT
It had been well over an hour since they’d gone up to the site and returned. Davis wasn’t at home when they first arrived but got there within a few minutes.
He appeared confused at the sight of the two police cruisers, but then immediately grew defensive as Officer Watson called out, “Hands on the wheel, Davis.”
“I haven’t done—”
“Ha
nds on the wheel!” Officer Watson repeated and laid his hand on his holstered weapon.
Matt’s gaze skipped across all their faces quickly and then he complied. He looked straight ahead as he said, “What is this about?”
“Do you have a firearm in the car?” Officer Hughes asked.
“No. I’m coming from one of my job sites,” Matt explained, his jaw tight and mottled spots of color on his cheeks. His hands clenched and unclenched on the wheel.
“But you own a rifle,” Rhea jumped in, and Matt whipped his head around to nail her with a cold stare. Filled with hate, it sent a shiver down her spine.
“Owned. I had to sell it to pay off some bills.”
“I’m sure you did all the appropriate paperwork,” Jackson said, and at that, the color on Matt’s cheeks deepened and a nervous tic erupted along his jaw. He turned away from Jackson and faced forward again.
“Davis? You got the paperwork?” Officer Watson pressed.
Jaw muscles jumping nervously, Matt said, “No. It was a client, and I didn’t want to hassle them.”
“I guess you won’t mind us checking with him,” Jackson said.
Matt’s head whipped around again and said, “Her. I’d rather you not bother her. I can’t afford to lose a good client.”
“Where were you the last hour?” Officer Watson said.
“Like I said before. At one of my job sites. You can ask any of the guys there,” Matt advised.
“Trust us, we will. How about you give us the info so we can confirm your story,” Officer Watson said, while Hughes jerked his head toward their cruiser to indicate he wanted to talk to them alone.
Rhea walked beside Jax to the car, where the three huddled together as Hughes asked, “Is there anything else you need right now?”
Jackson glanced at Rhea, who said, “If we can, a look in his trunk would be great.”
“You want to look for the rifle?” Hughes asked, but Jackson quickly said, “Blood. I know your office checked earlier, but I’d like to see the trunk for myself.”
Hughes shot a look toward his partner and gestured to the back of the Jeep. “Ask him if he minds opening up the trunk.”
Watson leaned in toward Matt, who shook his head, but a second later the glass went up and the hatch unlocked with a kerthunk. Watson stepped away to let Davis exit the SUV and open the back so they could inspect it.
“I’m going to lodge a complaint. This is harassment,” Matt said as Rhea, Jackson and Officer Watson approached.
“This is an ongoing investigation, Davis, and you are the prime suspect,” Jackson explained.
Rhea was so thankful for the presence of the officers. She could never have accomplished any of what had happened so far without them.
Matt shot her another withering look, but she refused to let him cow her. She met his stare head-on and raised her chin a defiant inch. Seeing that they weren’t going to back down even with his threat, he swept his hand across his open trunk.
“Look away,” he said.
Matt and Rhea walked over, and Rhea immediately noticed the difference. “You used to have a liner in here.”
A belligerent shrug was his answer until Jackson said, “Where’s the liner?”
“Tossed it about a month ago. It got damaged at a job site,” Matt said.
Jackson shook his head. “Convenient. Mind if we take a look anyway?”
“Look away,” Matt said facetiously.
Rhea watched as Jackson did, using a blue light to check for blood, she assumed. He did it thoroughly, examining every inch of the trunk area and then the ceiling, as well. But nothing showed up.
As Jackson stepped away from the trunk, Matt smiled smugly and crossed his arms. “Satisfied, Detective?”
Jackson tipped his hat back in a relaxed way, but Rhea couldn’t fail to notice the tightness along his jaw and the way he clenched his other fist, as if he was barely restraining himself.
“I wouldn’t be so smug, Davis. I’m like a dog with a bone and, right now, you’re that bone. I’m going to chew you up and spit you out in pieces to get to the truth about Selene’s disappearance,” Jackson said, voice calm. Maybe too calm.
Matt clearly understood. “I didn’t do anything to Selene. She ran away to her,” he said and flipped his hand toward Rhea, but didn’t stop there. Spittle flew off his lips as he said, “You were always in the way. Always putting foolish ideas in her head. Making her think she was something special. That she was too good for me.”
The heat of anger burst into flame in her gut. She stepped toward Matt and eyeballed him, barely inches away. She sensed Jackson and the two officers behind her, ready to move if Matt did, but if anything, she suspected it was Matt they’d have to protect if she lost her control.
In a deceptively neutral tone, she said, “Selene is something special. Something way too good for the likes of you. You never appreciated just how unique and wonderful she is, and I’m glad she finally realized that. And if you think Jax is determined—”
“Jax, is it? Did you charm him into doing this or did you do something else?” Matt said with a snigger.
Jackson stepped toward him, fists clenched, but Rhea laid a hand on his chest to stop him. “We will get to the truth, Matt. And when we do, you’d better hope that you have been telling the truth all along, otherwise...”
She couldn’t finish, because she couldn’t imagine what she might do to him. She’d never pictured herself as a violent person, but...she wanted to hurt him the way he’d hurt Selene. She wanted him to pay for everything he’d done to her sister.
Afraid she would lose control, she whirled, grabbed Jackson’s hand and dragged him back toward his cruiser. At the passenger door, Jackson opened it and then leaned on it, a hint of a smile on his face.
“You got...spunk, Rhea. I kind of like it,” he said, surprising her and, before she could respond, he walked to his side of the cruiser, got in and started the car.
“Are we going to see the Avalon Police Chief?” Rhea asked.
“We are. I’m sure by the time we get there he’ll know someone shot at us and have heard from Matt,” Jackson said. With a strangled laugh he added, “I’m not sure he’ll be happy to see us.”
For once, Rhea couldn’t argue with him.
* * *
“THAT WENT WELL,” Jackson said and blew out a sharp breath.
“Not,” Rhea added with a roll of her eyes.
Jackson leaned against the bumper of his cruiser, tucked his arms across his chest and peered at the Avalon Police Station. With a shake of his head, he said, “At least he promised to check out Matt’s story about the rifle.”
“Convenient, right?” Rhea asked and likewise took a spot against the vehicle, her gaze also on the stationhouse.
“Especially since it was a .22. The same caliber as whoever was shooting at...us,” Jackson said, careful of his words since he didn’t want to worry Rhea that someone was targeting her.
Rhea shifted her gaze to him. Her blue eyes were dark, clearly reflecting her concern. “You mean me, don’t you? Someone was shooting at me.”
With a slight dip of his head, he acknowledged it. “I can’t deny that it seems like someone wants you to drop this.”
Rhea’s gaze skipped over his face, questioning. Almost challenging before she said, “Do you think I should drop this?”
His answer was immediate. “No. The fact that someone wants to shut you up confirms that they’re trying to hide something.”
She looked away and sucked in a deep breath. In a voice tight with emotion she said, “I’m not afraid of pushing for the truth, Jax.”
He ran his hand up and down her back, trying to soothe her upset. “I’m not, either. And to get to you, they’re going to have to come through me. I won’t let that happen.”
She surprised him then by turni
ng into his side, her head tucked against his chest, the gesture so trusting his heart constricted. He splayed his hands against her back and he almost spanned the width of it with one hand, reminding him of how petite she was. How vulnerable.
“I won’t let that happen,” he repeated and brushed a kiss across her temple.
That action propelled her into moving away from him. She tucked her hands under her arms and shook her head. “This is confusing, Jax.”
He had no doubt she wasn’t referring to Selene’s case. He held his hands up in surrender. “It is, and I’m sorry. It’s time we got back to Regina. I’ve got some calls to make and some more research to do before we return to search beneath the ridge.”
“I’ve got some things I want to go over, as well,” Rhea said.
With a nod, he opened the door and waited until she was sitting. “It’ll be dinnertime by the time we get back to Regina. How about we get some take-out barbecue?”
“I’d love that. Thanks.”
* * *
JACKSON’S DINING ROOM table was covered with a mix of spareribs, brisket burnt ends, cornbread, beans, coleslaw, and the photos and papers from Rhea.
Rhea sat at one end with a plate piled with food she had barely picked at, not because it wasn’t tasty, but because she was too focused on reviewing materials she had already seen dozens of times in the last six months.
Jackson was at the other side of the table, a nearly clean plate sitting there while he read the papers. As Jackson set the materials down, he took note of her watching him, and of her virtually untouched dinner.
“You need to eat something. We didn’t eat all day, and you’re going to need the fuel tomorrow for that hike beneath the ridge.”
With a quick lift of her shoulders, she said, “I’m not really hungry.”
He shot to his feet then, wincing as he straightened. Grabbing his back with one hand, he stretched before coming to her side of the table.
“You okay?” She’d seen him suffer with his back more than once in the last couple of days and wondered if it was from an old injury.
“I am.” He gathered the materials at her side of the table and shifted her plate of food directly in front of her. “Eat. Once you do, we can go over this. Again.”