Colton Manhunt

by Jane Godman

  Katrina experienced a fierce pride in her sister. She knew how hard it had been for Eliza to fight her cravings, yet, not only had she beaten her habit, but she had also managed to refuse this man to whom she had been attracted...and the allure of relapsing. That had shown incredible strength.

  “I may have done a little more than usual because I was showing off to Eliza, so when she turned me down, I got a little crazy,” Latimer continued. “I held her down and forcibly injected her. But the stuff I gave her was bad.”

  Katrina swallowed hard. “Are you saying she’s dead?”

  “I’m sorry. It wasn’t what I wanted.” He looked over his shoulder again. “She told me about this spot where she used to spend great times with her twin as a kid. She talked about how she hoped the two of you could start fresh one day. I thought this would be the best place for her.”

  Risking a movement of her flashlight, she illuminated the area behind him. It became clear what he kept looking at. A few feet away, just behind him, there was a disturbed patch of earth, the exact size and shape of a body.

  “Is that...?” She lifted a hand to her lips.

  “Yeah.” He nodded. “I buried her where I thought she’d be at peace. I come here most days now, even keep my stuff buried here. It’s like she’s guarding it for me.”

  Katrina bit back a sob. Her troubled sister had known so little peace, but to be robbed of her life in such a way? By a selfish man who wanted to use her as his partner in addiction... She choked off her anger, turning her thoughts in another direction.

  “So you were the person warning me off all this time? It was all you?” She was having trouble with that. Somehow Latimer didn’t seem competent or organized enough to have orchestrated the threats that had been made against her. “You did it all on your own? You hired Cordelia Mellor to pose as Christie Foster? You got Aidan Hannant to warn me off? You were behind the break-ins? You drugged my dogs? And the plan to discredit me, so no one would listen to me? You came up with that?”

  Even as she listed all the things that had happened since she started searching for Eliza, she got the feeling he wasn’t really listening. His focus was on Eliza’s grave.

  “Look, I didn’t want to do that. But I had to try to stop you from finding the truth.” He ran a hand through his hair. “You think I like threatening women?”

  She still couldn’t see this man, this shaky, weak man, having enough energy and intelligence to go through with the plan to intimidate her. But that wasn’t the most important thing she needed to think about right now.

  Although he genuinely appeared to feel bad, Katrina reminded herself that he had killed her sister. And now she knew everything. The thought struck fresh terror into her. There was no way she was getting out of this alive. Unless...

  “Sergeant Colton knows where I am,” she said, bluffing. It was true. Sort of. If only Spencer had checked his messages...

  “Him? I’d almost forgotten.”

  He pointed to one side of Eliza’s grave. There, slumped on the ground like a pile of dirty laundry, was Spencer. He wasn’t moving, and from the dark slick covering the left half of his head and face, it appeared that he was bleeding heavily.

  Forgetting the danger, she started forward. “What have you done to him?”

  “I hit him with a rock when he found my drug stash and saw where I’d buried Eliza,” Latimer said. “I think he’s dead.”

  Chapter 17

  “What have you done to him?”

  Even though it sounded like it was coming from a long way off, Spencer knew that voice. If he could just move past the persistent drumbeat inside his skull, he might be able to figure out whom it belonged to.

  The person who answered wasn’t as helpful. It was a man, but he didn’t speak clearly and the only words Spencer could make out were “drug stash” and “Eliza.” They should mean something, but his head felt like it had been filled with cotton balls and rational thinking wasn’t an option.

  He should probably try moving, but it was easier to stay like this with his cheek resting on the sandy ground and leaf litter. He wondered why he couldn’t feel any pain. Liquid, sticky and warm, was oozing from the wound on the top of his head and trickling down his face. He didn’t know how much blood he’d lost, but it felt like a lot...

  Katrina!

  That was whose voice he’d heard. And the person replying had been talking about Spencer finding the stash of drugs and the shallow grave. A brief memory came back in a rush and he saw Kenyon Latimer lifting a rock, about to bring it crashing down on his head.

  Did Boris get away? He couldn’t ask the question out loud, but he pinned his hopes on his canine partner’s experience and resilience.

  Pain kicked in along with his memory. It felt like his head had been accidentally placed into the sort of machine that compacted junk cars into tiny metal cubes. Even so, he should try to move. Katrina was facing her sister’s killer. He couldn’t leave her to do that alone. But how could he help her when even blinking made him nauseous?

  There was a change in the air around him as someone drew closer. He remained still, playing dead until he knew for sure what was going on. A whiff of Katrina’s scent filled his nostrils and then she dropped to her knees beside him. Her nearness comforted him, but now she had her back to Latimer. That made her vulnerable to the guy who had hit Spencer on the head with a rock. He could try the same tactic he’d used on Spencer and hit Katrina...

  Through half-closed eyes, Spencer observed her turning to talk over her shoulder to Latimer. “If you’re right, and he’s dead, there’ll be no hiding place for you. The police will make sure they hunt down a cop killer.”

  She lifted Spencer’s hand, holding it to her cheek. As she did, he shakily lifted his other hand, holding his middle finger over his lips in a “shh” gesture before reaching for the gun that was lying at his side. At first, he wasn’t sure she’d seen what he did, but then he noticed the sheen of tears on her cheek and she gave a tiny nod. Holding her flashlight steady, she made sure the scene was illuminated.

  “No way is that happening.” Latimer’s voice shook as he cocked the gun. “None of this was my fault. I can’t go down for accidentally killing Eliza or bashing a cop over the head because he saw where I hide my drug stash.”

  Summoning every ounce of strength he had, Spencer rose suddenly, pushed Katrina to the ground and angled his body up to get a clear view. Shooting to wound was a risky tactic and most police marksmen were not skilled enough to take that chance. Luckily for Latimer, Spencer was army trained, plus he wanted Eliza’s killer to face a court and answer for his crimes.

  With a single shot, he caught Latimer just above his right elbow. The guy’s lower arm swung loose as he cried out and dropped the gun. Katrina darted forward and grabbed the weapon at the same time that a large, familiar figure burst through the trees with an excited bark.

  Latimer was staggering around, wailing and clutching his arm, as Kerry and PJ appeared with their weapons drawn.

  “MVPD. On your knees with your hands behind your head,” PJ ordered.

  “I can’t. He shot me. Broke my arm,” Latimer whined.

  “I can’t see anything wrong with your legs.” PJ wasn’t known for his sympathetic nature.

  Still complaining, Latimer got to his knees. Through a haze of pain, Spencer heard PJ telling him he was under arrest and Kerry calling for medical help.

  Katrina took Spencer’s gun, made it safe and placed it on the ground with the one she’d removed from Latimer. Then she leaned closer. “Can you talk?”

  “No.” He pulled her down to him. “But you can still hold me.”

  She made a sound that was halfway between a laugh and a sob. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “I’ll take my chances. I’ve been finding out lately that love comes with risks.”

  Her body was warm around
his for a few seconds, then a wet nose was thrust into Spencer’s hand and Boris’s tail thumped hard on the ground between them.

  “I guess even the most well-trained dog can be forgiven for wanting to know if his master is okay,” Katrina said.

  “Boris is a hero.” Kerry came to kneel beside them. “We didn’t know what was going on when he emerged from the park without you. But he started charging up to us, barking and wagging his tail, then running back toward the park entrance. It was clear he wanted us to follow him. He led us straight to you.”

  A few minutes later, they heard the wail of an approaching ambulance siren.

  Katrina turned to Kerry. “Can you take Boris with you?”

  “Of course. Why do you ask?”

  “Because I’m going with Spencer to the hospital.” She lifted his hand to her cheek. “These are the new rules. I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

  * * *

  Spencer stared up at the tree canopy as the paramedics put a brace around his neck. A faint glimmer of light was beginning to shine through. Or maybe his eyes had been damaged. He felt as though an iron girder had been smashed across the entire left half of his head. Had it? He thought it was something to do with Kenyon Latimer and a rock, but his memory could be playing tricks. Now and then there were flashes of clarity, but everything that had happened since he and Boris entered the park felt fuzzy, like a TV screen with too much static.

  The two men on either side of him carefully lifted his upper body to finish with the brace, giving him a view of his legs. As they did, he wiggled his toes. His injuries couldn’t be that bad, he decided. His spinal cord was still working.

  He was vaguely aware of being immobilized and carried to the ambulance on a stretcher. From the emergency vehicle, he was taken to the ER at Mustang Valley General. Then, a female doctor asked him where he hurt, and he gestured to the back and left side of his head.

  By then, his skull felt like it was trying to pound its way out of his head through the skin. The drugs the doctors gave him didn’t stop the pain completely, but they made him drowsy and less inclined to care. The whole time, he clung tight to Katrina’s hand. Her face reassured him. He only let go of her when he was taken for a CAT scan.

  After the scan, he was wheeled into a small room and lifted onto a bed. By this time, he was feeling nauseous and shaky.

  “Where’s Katrina?” he asked the nurse who brought him water. “I need her.”

  “Is that your girlfriend? She went to make some calls.”

  Spencer lay back on the pillows, just the effort in conducting that brief conversation draining all his energy.

  Is that your girlfriend?

  His brain wasn’t working at full capacity, but he knew how he wanted to answer that question. After everything they’d endured, he wanted to keep Katrina in his life. He wanted her to be more than his girlfriend. He wanted her forever.

  When she entered the room a few minutes later, there was a doctor with her.

  “The CAT scan showed no major damage.” Spencer found he was too weary to react to the good news. Even his smile muscles refused to respond. “You have a concussion, which means you’ll need to rest and avoid stimulants. But you can go home as soon as we have your medication ready.”

  “That’s wonderful news.” He saw a glimmer of tears in Katrina’s eyes. When the doctor had gone, she gripped his hand tightly. “I can’t believe this nightmare is finally over.”

  “Not for you.” He returned the clasp of her fingers. “Eliza is dead.”

  She hung her head. “I’ve spent my whole adult life waiting for something bad to happen to her, knowing she was likely to fall for the wrong man or get into bad company. This is a sad day and I guess I’ll always wonder if I could have done more to help her. But I’m also relieved that she did turn her life around and that she was strong enough to resist Latimer when he tried to get her back on to drugs. Because of that, I feel I’ll eventually be able to make my peace about what happened to her once I’ve laid her to rest in a more suitable place.”

  “You’re so strong. I can’t believe how lucky I am that you came into my life when you did.”

  “When I nearly knocked you over, you mean?” Her voice was teasing.

  “I’ve never enjoyed being almost slammed to the ground more.” He studied her face. “If I could change the way I reacted—”

  She pressed a finger to his lips. “You can’t. And what happened tonight has taught me that life is too short for regrets.”

  “In that case...” He took a breath. “I love you, Katrina.”

  “Oh.”

  “That’s it? Just ‘oh’?”

  She smiled, a hint of her usual mischief peeping through. “I’m just not sure you should be allowed to tell someone you love them when you have a concussion.”

  He laughed. “You don’t have a head injury.”

  “True.” She leaned closer. “Which leaves me free to say that I love you more than words can say.”

  He hooked a hand behind her neck, pulling her down for a kiss. “That’s good enough for me. For now.”

  “For now?”

  “We’ll continue this conversation when I’m of sound mind.” He gestured to his clothes, which were folded on a chair. “Let’s go home.”

  “Whose home? Yours or mine?” she asked.

  “Ours. The one where our canine family will be waiting for us.”

  * * *

  A few days later, Kerry called to say that Eliza’s body had been moved from the shallow grave in Mustang Park to the coroner’s office. Spencer put her on speakerphone so Katrina could listen to the conversation.

  “Latimer has confessed that he killed her right there by the willow tree when she took him to show him the place that was so special to her in her childhood,” Kerry said. “He’s refusing to say any more about whether he involved anyone other than Hannant in the threats to Katrina.”

  “Keep pushing him on that,” Spencer told her. “Ask him about drugging the dogs, about hiring Aidan Hannant, about the break-ins at Katrina’s place. Most importantly, ask him if he had any help with those things, particularly from anyone inside the AAG.

  “Latimer is facing a murder charge. Revealing the names of any helpers in the intimidation against you isn’t going to help him,” Spencer said when he ended the call. “If he did have support, I guess he’ll continue to protect his friends.”

  Spencer was making a good recovery. The headaches he’d been suffering were almost gone and the wounds on the back of his head and his temple were healing well. Although he still felt tired occasionally, his energy was returning. Katrina could tell he was starting to feel restless at his enforced inactivity.

  “I want to go and lay some flowers at the place where she died.” She was determined to honor her sister’s memory.

  “Are you sure you feel ready to go back there?” he asked.

  “I thought maybe we could take the dogs for a walk in the park. That way it will be more natural and less formal,” she said. “That’s if you feel able to walk that far?”

  He nodded. “I’ll be fine.”

  It was early afternoon when they reached the park; there were a number of families enjoying eating in the shade of the larger trees.

  “Will Dobby be okay around all this food?” Spencer asked.

  “Dobby will be a model of good canine behavior,” Katrina assured him. “Suzie and I have given him plenty of additional training and he can resist food even if it’s right under his nose.”

  As if to demonstrate his newfound ability to ignore temptation, Dobby trotted past the picnickers with his stubby snout in the air.

  “Good boy.” Katrina rewarded him with a treat.

  They followed a turn in the track, coming across a group engaged in a yoga session in a clearing. They were in the middle of doing the downward-f
acing dog pose. Holly, normally the most well-behaved canine of the group, clearly thought this activity looked like great fun. Charging over to the group, she jumped on top of the people who were holding their positions, causing several of them to topple to one side. Although most of them were amused by her antics, the instructor angrily shooed her away.

  “I guess Holly also needs some additional training?” Spencer’s shoulders shook with laughter as they hurried away.

  “Why can’t they be more like Boris?” Katrina asked.

  “Don’t forget that he’s had intensive training,” Spencer reminded her. “His skills are honed with personalized daily sessions, and... What is that smell?”

  “I think that smell could be Boris.” Katrina’s eyes danced with amusement. “I have a feeling he may have missed the personalized session about not rolling in fertilizer.”

  Chuckling at the bizarre twist that meant Dobby was now their best-behaved dog, they continued deeper into the trees until they reached the dip in the ground and the large willow tree. There were signs that the earth had been recently disturbed, and Spencer held Katrina’s hand as she stared at the place where her sister had been buried by the man who’d killed her.

  “Tell me about Eliza,” Spencer said. “You’ve told me some things about her personality, but you must have other memories.”

  Katrina thought for a minute or two. “Oh, she was the nosiest person you ever met. There was no such thing as privacy with Eliza around. Everywhere I went, she was right there behind me, snooping around in my business. That was how she found out I couldn’t dance.”

  “You can’t dance?”

  “I can now.” She smiled reminiscently. “Instead of making fun of me, Eliza showed me some moves. It really helped improve my self-esteem.”

  “It sounds like you had a good time together.” His voice was gentle.

  “Sometimes we did. Other times the sibling rivalry kicked in. No one could get to me like her, but no one could get to her like me. And, in a way, the fact that she could drive me to distraction meant that she knew me better than anyone. We understood each other, and although she had her problems, we were there for each other.” She bowed her head, letting the tears fall. “I never grudged looking out for her, and I always wanted her to know that I’d be at her side in a second if she needed me.”