Colton's Dangerous Liaison

by Regan Black

  She gestured to his notebook. “Getting back to Everleigh. Her grandmother’s actions are compelling. Adding in what you found...” Her voice trailed off. “I’ll need to speak with the DA. There has been some turnover in the forensics department. It would be maddening if something fell through the cracks with Bowe, because of the personnel changes.”

  Clarke scowled. “So how will you figure out who made the mistake? Was it the CSI on the scene, or did something get misfiled in Bowe’s lab?”

  Neither scenario gave her any comfort at this point. “I’ll do what we both do well—investigate.” She tried to smile.

  Overwhelmed didn’t begin to cover it. Inside, she felt as if she’d been squeezed too tightly, every emotion twisted up and wrung out from the moment Danny had been taken. Unfortunately, finding him hadn’t set everything right. She had no idea how the errors that led to Hannah McPherson’s desperate move had happened, but she would not allow a blatant miscarriage of justice to stand. As a department, they would retrace their steps in the Emerson case until they found the answers.

  “Who was the CSI at the scene?” she asked, ready to make her own notes.

  Clarke pulled a face, looking pained. “A rookie.”

  That was all the information she needed. “Jillian,” they said in unison.

  Their younger cousin was new to the department and, as with all rookies in any capacity, she wouldn’t have been attending a murder scene alone. From everything that drifted up the grapevine to Melissa, the woman was good at her job and eager to prove herself. Jillian had made some mistakes—nothing on the level of suddenly finding forensics where there’d been none before—but minor errors were part of any learning curve. “Who else?”

  “No other name is listed,” Clarke said.

  Something had truly gone amiss. “That’s my starting point,” Melissa said, checking the time. “Is Ruiz still out there?” she asked, picking up her phone to call Jillian.

  Clarke shifted just enough to peek through the office blinds. “Right where you left him.”

  She rolled her eyes, waiting for Jillian to answer the call. When it went to voice mail, Melissa left a message and requested a call back as soon as possible.

  When she’d told her parents that she’d applied to the police academy, they’d worried about the dangers of her confronting violent offenders. Once on the job, Melissa had discovered that, personally, waiting for a case to develop was a big hurdle. Good investigations required patience for evidence to process and leads to play out.

  But the really low points were those instances when justice was elusive.

  Melissa carried vivid memories of the overwhelming shock and sadness when Aunt Amanda, mother of her cousins Desiree and Troy, had been shot and killed in a home invasion. She’d been only six years old and remembered those early days as feelings and grieving faces that eventually faded to resignation. The case had gone cold and remained unsolved.

  From day one on the job, she worked to bring justice to her community, even knowing it wouldn’t always be possible. And right now there was a man waiting outside her office eager to remind her that was becoming a distressing norm within her department.

  She rolled her shoulders and took a long, slow breath. Good cops out there were counting on her to guide them through this crisis. The anger and frustration had to take a back seat to unraveling what had gone wrong and where so justice could prevail. “I’m authorizing you to stay on this,” she said. “Keep pressing the public defender for anything else he may have missed. Being overworked isn’t a sufficient excuse.”

  Clarke raised an eyebrow, but agreed to do it.

  “Thanks.” She felt like a fugitive when she peeked through a slit in the blinds to check on Antonio. Still there, stubborn man. “Do you have any idea how the media got wind about the ransom message?”

  Clarke’s eyes went round and he swore. “I didn’t share it.”

  “Troy wouldn’t, either,” Melissa said. She didn’t want to accuse Antonio, but it was possible. “Do you think Hannah McPherson could have sent it out?”

  Clarke nodded slowly. “It would certainly fit with everything else she’s done.”

  Melissa hoped Hannah McPherson had been working alone, as she’d claimed at the house when they arrested her.

  And would the evidence they gathered hold up? Both Antonio and Hannah McPherson insisted the evidence on two different cases was wrong. Was there an issue with her forensics team? She knew her department—her investigators, officers and detectives in particular—was excellent, but she could not afford incompetence at any level.

  There was no choice. She had to call in someone at the state level to help her investigate these discrepancies. She reached for her phone when it rang under her hand. “Chief Colton,” she answered.

  “It’s Jillian. I just saw you called.”

  “Thanks for the quick response,” Melissa said. She sank into her chair and pulled a notepad within reach. Not a chance with Antonio lurking nearby.

  “Is this about the Everleigh Emerson case?” Jillian asked.

  “Yes.” Melissa exchanged a glance with Clarke. He’d pulled a chair around to hear as much as possible. “I’ve always felt awful about missing that evidence,” Jillian said. “I’m sure you know that they teach us some hairs and fibers aren’t obvious to the naked eye. It’s why we bag everything for the lab.”

  “Right,” Melissa said. “So there isn’t a mention in your report of any hair visibly different than the victim’s hair on the paperweight—the murder weapon—because it wasn’t visible to you at the scene?”

  “That’s right. I took pictures and worked the scene, but obviously I must have missed something big. The goal is to put the right person behind bars.”

  “I understand what happened,” Melissa said. “It takes all of us, especially on a murder case. From this end it seems you did everything right,” she assured her cousin.

  “I’m glad you think so, Chief. I am trying to be careful out there. And I’m glad I brought in everything for the lab to process.”

  Melissa appreciated her humility, but she just wasn’t convinced this was all on Jillian’s shoulders. She made herself a note to check on the new CSI’s other cases later this week. Rookie issues like this one rarely needed a chief’s attention. The forensics teams had an internal management structure that dealt with scheduling and the day-to-day.

  “Did Bowe reprimand you for the oversight?” Melissa asked. Clarke nodded his approval of the question.

  “Not officially. But when the final report came in, I had to do a few hours of coursework review. I didn’t mind,” she added quickly. “I want to learn from my mistakes. Since then, I’ve done everything possible to be more diligent.”

  Her earnestness warmed Melissa’s heart, made her want her cousin to get better at her job. “And this was the first crime scene you worked alone?”

  “I wasn’t alone,” Jillian replied. “Billy McClusky was there with me.”

  Clarke shifted, then pored through his notes and eventually shook his head.

  Another discrepancy to add to the growing list. A chill slid down Melissa’s spine. “Jillian, you can’t share this conversation with anyone,” she began. She lowered her voice. “I’m not convinced you or Billy made any errors on this case.”

  There was a long pause. “What?” her cousin asked, incredulous. “What are you saying?”

  “We’re just digging in, but we’re finding some inconsistencies with the Emerson case as a whole. Until I sort that out, would you please take extra precautions on your cases?”

  “How so?”

  “Please back up your notes, pictures and copies of your final reports in a separate location. Whatever system you choose, make sure it’s somewhere different from the official department database.”

  “You’re serious?” Jillian breathed.


  “I am. Again, none of this is for public knowledge.”

  “Understood,” Jillian promised. “If I can help you sort out anything else with this, please call.”

  “I appreciate that.” Melissa ended the conversation and cradled the phone in her hands. She looked up Billy’s personnel record and dialed his cell phone, despite the late hour.

  He answered immediately. “Hey, Chief.”

  “Sorry to bother you so late,” she began. “I just have a couple questions about the Emerson case.”

  “I figured, after the mess at the wedding,” he said. “Fire away.”

  “Were you Jillian Colton’s supervisor at the crime scene?”

  “Yes, I was. She did a great job, everything by the book. She’s a real asset.”

  His confidence gave Melissa a much-needed boost. “And you filed your report as usual?”

  “You bet. We delivered everything to the lab all at once, same as always.”

  “Just what I needed to hear. Thanks so much, Billy.”

  She sat there for a moment, dumbfounded. Her cursory search didn’t show any evidence logs or reports from Billy at that scene, though there were records from other cases he had worked that same month.

  What on earth were they up against here?

  “Want me to go back to the defense attorney tonight?” Clarke asked.

  “You’ve done enough tonight,” she replied. “Tomorrow is Sunday. They won’t be in court and we can use that time to get a better picture. I’ll add this as part of our official investigation of the kidnapping case.”

  “Sure thing,” Clarke said, standing. “Be careful.”

  “Always.”

  She followed her brother out of her office, pausing to lock the door. It was no shock that Antonio was sitting right where they’d left him. “Closing up without giving me a chance to talk?” he asked.

  She bit back a scathing reply. It wasn’t entirely his fault that she was antsy. Picking fights wouldn’t help anything. Before she could form a polite response, her stomach rumbled.

  “I’ll remind you this was supposed to be my day off.” It was so strange to be the person complaining about her demanding job. “Since Danny was taken before I got my dinner, I’m willing to hear you out as long as food is involved.”

  His expression softened the hard angles of his chiseled features as her words registered. “My place or yours?”

  “Neither.” She couldn’t imagine having this striking man, the owner of several opulent hotels around the country, in her very average three-bedroom, two-bath, single-story home. “I was thinking that Paola’s Pizza sounded good.”

  “That works for me,” he said.

  It dawned on her then that her car was still at the hotel. “Let me just get the keys to a cruiser. Unless you’d rather walk?”

  The restaurant was only a few blocks away and the chilly night air might be just the thing for the heat building under her skin when he was near. Her professional distance seemed to evaporate around Antonio.

  “For the record, I wasn’t just sitting here doing nothing,” he said with a heart-melting smile. “I asked one of the hotel drivers to deliver your SUV.”

  She didn’t know what to say to that.

  Antonio chuckled. “Is there a law against that kind of peace offering, Chief?”

  “Probably. But I’ll let you off with a warning tonight.”

  She’d always found him handsome, but that twinkle in his eyes made him too sexy for any safe association. It was going to be an interesting conversation, assuming she could concentrate on what he had to say and not all the things he made her feel.

  * * *

  Antonio had to work a little too hard to smother his amusement. Melissa was one surprise after another, starting with the lovely dress she’d had on earlier all the way through the competent search-and-rescue. He didn’t want to be attracted to her and yet he didn’t want to avoid it, either. Best to chalk it up to bad timing and keep the boundaries clear.

  Especially when he wanted her to reopen the Wendy Paxton murder case.

  He’d used the time she left him cooling his heels to sort out the bits and pieces of information he’d picked up tonight. He didn’t condone Hannah McPherson’s actions, but it sounded to him as though someone in the forensics department had made a big mistake on that case. Didn’t that make it more plausible that the evidence against Orr had been overlooked or mishandled, too?

  “Did you ask the driver to leave the car out front?” she asked, pausing as they approached the back door.

  “Nice of you to assume the worst of me,” he replied, not the least bit offended. He’d thought about doing just that so she would have to face the press one more time. But after all they’d gone through tonight, the move felt petty, so he’d instructed the car to be parked behind the police station.

  “It feels like our pattern.”

  And there it was, that simmer of attraction, nudging him to shift their pattern toward more amicable terrain. “I double-checked with another officer and had the valet leave the car out back. I can’t promise a complete absence of press, but with luck it won’t be as bad as earlier.”

  “I appreciate that.” Sincerity shone in her blue eyes.

  He shrugged into his coat and then took the coat she had draped over her arm, holding it for her.

  “Thanks,” she said, clearly surprised by the gesture.

  “My dad told me good manners make the man.”

  “Is that so?”

  He watched, mesmerized, as she buttoned the dressy wool coat over her bland uniform. The effect was a strange illustration of the two parts of her life: the hard-nosed chief who worked diligently for her department and her city, and the lovely woman underneath those responsibilities.

  “Mom said it lulled her enough to fall for him,” he added.

  “So after hours of giving me grief tonight, your new plan is to lull me into whatever you want with chivalry? Interesting approach,” she quipped as he held the back door of the station for her to walk out ahead of him.

  He wasn’t accustomed to letting a woman drive on the way to dinner. Then again, he usually spoiled his dates with one of the property cars, sometimes a chauffeur, depending on the occasion. Besides, this wasn’t actually a date. The police chief was undeniably beautiful and his perspective about her had shifted since seeing her in that dress and later, with the little boy in her arms.

  Didn’t matter, though. He wasn’t about to let his old memories throw him off. He had two decades of practice keeping his old baggage locked down. Now that he had her full attention, he intended to make the most of it: for Wendy’s sake.

  “Why did you go into law enforcement?” he asked as she parked the car in the lot behind the restaurant.

  She cut the engine and gave him a long look, her face a study of contrasts between the dark car and the glow from the tall parking lot light overhead. “Why did you start buying properties?” she countered.

  “Money,” he admitted easily. “Security and profit.” To support my new family, he thought, pleased he’d stopped himself before that slipped out. “I doubt that’s why you joined the police.”

  “Well, no, I’m not in it for the big payday.”

  Her smile was slow and edged on exhaustion. For a moment, he considered giving her a break and putting off this conversation. The search for her young cousin had taken a toll. On both of them.

  She pulled the key from the ignition, tracing the jagged edge with her fingertip. He was mesmerized by the movement and too curious about how those long, slender fingers would feel against his skin.

  “My aunt was murdered,” she said, capturing his full attention. “The case was never closed. I guess the effects lingered.”

  “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  Another faint smile. “You don’t have to say that.
”

  “It was sincere,” he assured her.

  “Thanks,” she said. “The loss and all of the unknowns rippled through the family in different ways. I wanted to catch the person responsible, to learn why they decided to hurt her. You might say an initial morbid fascination matured into a hard line about the meanings of justice and fairness.”

  And yet a killer was walking around free. Orr should be in jail, but he wasn’t. Antonio supposed the count was actually two killers on the loose, if Hannah McPherson was right about her granddaughter’s innocence. If the buck didn’t stop with Melissa, then who could the city count on to handle the problem?

  Her stomach rumbled again. “Let’s take care of that.” He got out of the car and rounded the hood, not quite in time to open her door for her. Instead, he offered his hand.

  “I’m good,” she said, avoiding his touch.

  “Habit,” he explained. But he had to wonder if he would’ve helped her with her coat, held the door or shown her any such manners prior to this evening.

  The answer was a resounding “no” and for some reason that annoyed him. The sidewalk from the parking lot to the entrance had been cleared and salted, and she was in sturdy shoes now with thick treads. He was the one more likely to slip on an icy patch than she was.

  “While I was waiting, the wedding coordinator called and told me the newlyweds were settled into the bridal suite. I thought you’d be happy to hear they took the abbreviated reception in stride.”

  “I’m glad.” Melissa tucked her hands into her pockets. “I should’ve checked in with her when we got back to the station.”