28 Days: a romantic suspense

by Lexi Buchanan

  “I haven’t seen him since he left to visit Quinten.” Saige couldn’t meet Coulter’s gaze any longer. It hurt that Alex had gone to see his brother but had refused to take her with him. It would have been pointless as she wouldn’t have been allowed in to see him, but, at least, she would have been closer to him. Alex had made it clear that he didn’t want her anywhere near that place, but thanks to Coulter she would be going.

  As much as she wanted to trust Alex and talk to him about her upcoming visit to the prison, Saige decided to keep it to herself for now.

  * * *

  7:45pm

  * * *

  Regretfully, Alex admitted to Tracy, “I need to go.” He could stay and play all night but Tracy was different now, and he sensed that she wanted a lot more than he was willing to give. Nearing forty like Alex was, he didn’t think Tracy was too picky about whom she ended up with—it wouldn’t be him.

  But he was a bastard and had only used her to make a point to himself about Christina. The woman had him tied in knots just like last time. He was running scared and needed to grow a set of balls and face his fear—fear of being with her only to have her trample all over his heart again.

  He rubbed his chest where his heart ached.

  “Are you sure?” Tracy asked, her eyes hooded and her lips painted red in a pout. She obviously thought it was sexy, when in fact she looked ridiculous and he tried his best not to laugh.

  He ducked his head. “I’m sure,” he answered and climbed from the bed.

  For the first time in a while, he felt like a heel leaving a woman the way he was about to, but he quickly lost interest.

  He tugged his clothes on and let Tracy lead him through her small house to the front door. She opened it and, once he stepped outside, she smirked. “Pity you’re leaving. I thought that you might have wanted to know who really took Saige.”

  She slammed the door in his stunned face.

  * * *

  11:35pm

  * * *

  Weary from his day of questions without any real answers, Coulter pulled his car in beside the sheriff’s. The last thing he expected was the call he received fifteen minutes ago.

  The body of a woman had been found in the forest, a mile outside of Port Jude.

  Coulter tried to keep an open mind, but with the discovery of Jocelyn, followed by Fern, it was difficult not to imagine that they were all connected—only one way for it to be confirmed.

  With his hiking boots already on his feet, he climbed out of his car and followed the path toward the lights he could see through the trees.

  The road alongside was isolated, so chances of a witness coming forward would be next to nothing.

  “Sheriff,” Coulter greeted, the only sign of his frustration with the whole Saige Lockwood case was the tightening of his jaw.

  “Detective.” The sheriff dipped his head and moved closer. “I heard you’ve been looking for me. I didn’t think we’d be meeting under these circumstances.”

  Coulter let the sheriff’s words settle, and asked, “Why did you call me about this?” He’d ask the sheriff about Saige’s statement at a more appropriate time.

  “Like I said, I knew you were around. My curiosity was piqued, especially when Tracy Adam’s was found.” Sheriff Hodges shook his head and, taking his hat off, wiped at his forehead with his arm. “I’ve known Tracy all her life and no matter what she’s done in the past, she didn’t deserve to die the way she did. I’m just glad her parents aren’t alive to see this.”

  “What’s my connection to Tracy?” Coulter couldn’t let it go. There was a reason the sheriff had called him to come to the crime scene and he needed it spelled out.

  “Tracy Adams and Alex Peterson used to be an off again, on again, couple.”

  “Couple?” Coulter hadn’t missed how he used the word couple rather loosely.

  “It was probably more like itch scratching if you know what I mean.” He turned back toward where Coulter could see the body. “Alex is back in town, and now Tracy is dead.” Sheriff Hodges seemed to let his unsaid accusation sink into Coulter’s mind. “I read about the young woman in Tampa who worked for the defense attorney, Daniel Sterling. I remember him, and the fact that he was Quinten’s defense. With you being in town asking questions, I put two and two together...what’s going on, Detective Robinson?”

  Coulter wiped a hand down his tired face and knew that he couldn’t keep the sheriff out of the loop, or at least he’d have to tell the sheriff something. “I’m thinking that now that the warrant of execution has been signed, someone feels like he can move freely. There are suddenly dead bodies piling up and I think it somehow has to do with the Petersons.

  “Quinten has always maintained his innocence. I’ve always had my doubts about his guilt, which you know. The recent deaths and other information I’ve received make me believe that there was a lot more going on back then. I believe Quinten Peterson was set up. Perhaps not intentionally, considering he always admitted to bleeding all over the shack—the blood turning out to be the evidence that convicted him. I think the real killer saw the opportunity of escaping...and has maybe lain low all this time.”

  He paused and stared down the path where he could see people moving, “Serial killers go underground…to sleep as it were, maybe he’s been woken up with the news about Quinten and he’s hunting again. At least, that’s what my gut is telling me.”

  Silence followed Coulter’s assessment of the old case, and hearing his thoughts out loud made him realize that he was probably on the right track. He just needed a direction to go in and, right now, he had zero leads.

  “I’m not sure what to think,” Sheriff Hodges mumbled, sounding exhausted. “Let’s get this over with.”

  Coulter slowly followed the sheriff, and silently cursed when he saw the nude body sprawled out on her stomach. She appeared to be asleep until you looked closely. Then you could see the bruising on her arms, and the side of her rib cage.

  “She put up more of a fight than Fern.” Coulter knelt closer and could see the congealed blood beneath her neck and face. “I’m not sure what that means.” He looked at the ME. “Do you have a cause of death?” he asked the question, but he could see the answer—she’d nearly been decapitated.

  The ME glanced at him and then stared at the victim. “I read about your victim, Detective, and although my victim was nearly decapitated, I think it was post-mortem as opposed to yours being pre-mortem. My guess is that she died of asphyxiation. There are obvious signs of a struggle, and the bruising on her jaw and nose were pre-mortem. It looks like whoever did this grasped her face from behind.” The ME paused. “See the way the bruising is spread? The assailant looks to have held his hand tightly over her mouth while pinching her nose closed.”

  The ME sighed and looked back at Coulter. “If it’s the same person who killed your victim, Detective, then I’d say Tracy here wasn’t surprised to see him and wasn’t afraid of him to begin with. When she realized what he intended, she fought and he overpowered her. Whether or not he intended to kill her the way he did is anyone’s guess.”

  Coulter stared at the victim and wondered if there were two killers running around, or just the one. It was too much of a coincidence for his liking, especially when both recent victims had a connection to Alex Peterson. Not to forget Jocelyn.

  He ran a hand down his face and moved away. “Can we talk at the station tomorrow?” he asked the sheriff.

  The sheriff nodded.

  Coulter took that as his cue to leave.

  Trudging back to his car, he decided the private talk with Alex would happen sooner rather than later.

  Day 11

  8:00am

  * * *

  Saige tossed and turned for most of the night, and as she glanced over at Alex, realized that he looked to have slept about the same.

  Not quite able to hide the yawn behind his hand, Alex dropped into the chair beside her and, after helping himself to coffee, sat back and drained his c
up.

  “I needed that,” Alex commented and grinned.

  “Rough night?” she asked.

  “Yeah.” He yawned again. “I’m not usually so tired though.”

  “I know what you mean. I slept badly. Too much going on inside”—she tapped her forehead—“for me to settle.” She shrugged.

  “I’ve been thinking,” Alex paused, “I think I’m going to give Daniel Sterling a call and ask him to start getting the paperwork together to present to the governor. I think we have enough to request a stay. He can put the bits you’ve remembered into the paperwork, and, at least, the majority of the work will be done and ready for when we find more evidence to prove that Quinten is innocent.”

  Saige rubbed her forehead. “Okay...I have the feeling that all the answers are locked inside of me.” She took a minute to compose herself. “I need to remember, Alex.”

  “I wish you could remember. I wish you had your memory when it happened so that Quinten wouldn’t have been convicted. But it is what it is. You can’t push it, and I’d be a liar if I wasn’t hoping that you seeing Quinten will jog your memory.”

  “So, you’re really okay with me going to see your brother?”

  Alex sighed and poured them both more coffee. After taking a sip, he said, “The prison is no place for you. The first time I went to visit Quinten scared the fuck outta me, and it took a while to kind of get used to the visits. I don’t like the idea of you going, and I told Quinten that. The truth is that I think he’s desperate to see you. Talk to you.”

  He grasped her hand. “He never stopped loving you, Saige. He never stopped hoping that one day you’d visit him. He confided in me a while ago that his one dying wish was to see you just once more.”

  “Oh,” she sniffled, and reached up to wipe a tear.

  Alex wrapped an arm around her and tugged her to his chest. Saige raised her face to him and realized that he shared her sorrow. She leaned her head back on his chest and they stayed like that for a while until her father’s faithful housekeeper and cook came bustling into the room, followed by the detective on her heels.

  “Detective,” Saige sat up and greeted Coulter, realizing she was genuinely happy to see him, although troubled when she realized he looked tired. “Is everything all right?”

  “Yes and no.”

  “Have you eaten breakfast yet?” she asked.

  “I’m fine,” Coulter replied, but the growl from his stomach made a liar out of him.

  Saige grinned. “Please sit and eat. There’s a lot of food, and fresh coffee.”

  Coulter hesitated before he sat opposite them. “I guess I can’t refuse coffee after the night I’ve had.”

  Saige frowned. “What’s happened?”

  He glanced between them and, after taking a drink of his coffee, announced, “Another body was found last night.”

  Saige glanced at Alex but he held Coulter’s gaze, so she asked, “Who?”

  “Tracy Adams.”

  “Fuck,” Alex hissed between his teeth.

  “You know her?” Saige asked.

  Alex breathed deeply and glanced at her. “Yes, I knew her.” He dropped his forehead into his hands. “We went to school together and used to be...to be,”—he sucked in a breath—“fuck buddies for want of a better description.”

  “The sheriff told me that last night, but what else can you tell me, Alex? You had a connection to Jocelyn, Fern, and Tracy. All three are dead.”

  “I honestly don’t know.” His eyes bore into Coulter’s and he looked physically sick. “Could the person who took Saige be the one doing all this? I don’t know why women I know are being targeted, but it sure as fuck isn’t me.”

  “I’m not accusing you of anything, Alex. I’m just pointing out that you’re connected to all three victims...the three that we know about,” Coulter added.

  Saige had gone cold as she listened to the men talk about death and connections. She was so tired of thinking, of trying to remember something significant to help save Quinten. Her brain just wanted to rest.

  “Why would someone go after Alex?” Saige questioned. “Quinten is the one in prison so I don’t understand why someone would go after you.” She met Alex’s gaze before looking at Coulter. “Do you have a theory?”

  Coulter leaned forward and frowned, resting his arms on the table. “I have my theories,” he said quietly as he assessed Alex.

  Saige wondered if he thought Alex was the murderer. She stared at the man but she couldn’t see it in Alex. She trusted him, even though she didn’t really know him.

  “There was a difference to both Fern and Tracy’s murders, but because of the connection to Alex, it’s too much of a coincidence for it to be more than one killer.” Coulter said quietly. “I just don’t know the why. If it is a serial killer, why change the modus operandi now. I assume that the killer went to sleep…went back to his life and has woken up, but why not attack college girls again in the same manner? Why have his victims changed and how he kills them? Unless we have a copycat, or someone who is tied to Alex in some way.” It was clear that Coulter had forgotten they were in the room and was just spit balling his theories in an effort to see which one sounded plausible.

  It was horrifying and exciting to watch at the same time. The man’s mind was sharply tuned for his profession. The detective shook his head, his eyes clearing as he stared at Alex. “That is, presuming that it’s the same person…the more questions asked, the more tangled this case becomes.”

  Saige felt her stomach drop to her knees at Coulter’s assessment of the situation. She wanted to hold on to the killer being the same person, but what if his end game was to finish what he started?

  Coulter watched Alex, and Saige turned to him and offered her hand.

  “Have you seen Tracy since you’ve been in town, Alex?” Coulter asked.

  She felt a slight twitch in Alex’s body at the question, which caused her to frown, but Alex answered, “I bumped into her outside the pharmacy in town the day before yesterday. She flirted. It was a brief exchange before I followed Saige inside to talk to Agnes.”

  “I didn’t see her.” Saige frowned.

  “It was just after you’d gone inside...Paul Lewis saw us talking, and the barbershop guys did. The old guys don’t miss anything, plus I saw them turned in my direction after she left and I went into the store.”

  Coulter nodded, and Saige wondered whether or not he picked up that Alex wasn’t being totally honest.

  “Do you think that we have enough to go to the governor to get a stay?” Saige asked Coulter. “Alex thinks it’s worthwhile asking Daniel Sterling to get the papers ready.”

  “Hmm, maybe.” Coulter mumbled as he quickly added sausage to a piece of toast and made a sandwich. “You have my cell number, Saige, so message me Daniel’s email address and I’ll send a formal report to him to be included.”

  “I’ll send it to you,” Saige agreed.

  Coulter nodded. “Thank you for breakfast but I need to go.” He stood and shoved the chair back under the table, his sandwich in the other hand. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning. I’ll text you a time when I know I’ll be free.”

  “Thank you.” Saige stood to walk him out, but Coulter waved her back into her seat.

  “I can find my own way out...stay together. Safety in numbers.” Coulter disappeared and, a minute later, she heard the front door close behind him.

  “God! What a mess.” Saige turned to Alex. “What do you think is going on?”

  “I have no idea, but I agree with Coulter’s assessment. If this killer is the one who let Quinten take the fall, then why is he back now? It doesn’t make sense. For years he’s let Quinten sit on death row, which allowed him to be free...so why would he start again unless he couldn’t help himself.

  “I just hope that I’m not on his target list.” Saige met Alex’s gaze. “I’m the one that got away, and I also have a connection to you and Quinten.”

  “Let’s not go there, Sai
ge. But I guess it won’t hurt for you to have someone with you if you leave the house.”

  Saige shivered and felt cold right down to her toes.

  * * *

  10:30am

  * * *

  Coulter observed the sheriff while he spoke with a couple of officers.

  Every encounter he’d had with Sheriff Hodges, including last night, Hodges had been professional and had never given Coulter reason to doubt him...until now.

  Saige’s statement that held the sheriff’s signature gave him reason to question the man, and he knew it wouldn’t go down too well. Questioning someone in law enforcement about something that they may have screwed up just wasn’t done. But Coulter wanted answers and he’d get them.

  “You wanted to talk. Follow me.” The sheriff led him into his office. “Take a seat.”

  Once comfortable, Coulter waited and watched, just like Hodges did him.

  “I’m too tired for this.” Coulter rested his arms on his knees. He wasn’t up to playing the game…he had too much to do and very little time left…for the next victim or for Quinten. “What do you remember about Saige when you took her statement?”

  The sheriff’s eyes widened as he sat back in his chair. “That has to be the last thing I expected.” He shifted forward again.

  Coulter didn’t have long to wait for his answer.

  “What I remember is that Saige was a very lucky young woman. She spent hours in surgery and it took forever for the plastic surgeon her father had called in to stitch her back together. As I took her statement, some of the words made me think they came out of her stepmother’s mouth.”

  “As though she’d been coached?” Coulter interrupted and cursed himself for making the sheriff lose his flow.

  “Yeah,” Hodges sighed. “Her statement was flawless, and no matter how many times I asked her if it was a true statement of events, she constantly said yes.”