His gaze was dark and intense. “You doing okay?”
“I’m fine as a fiddle.”
“No problems overnight?” he asked.
“None at all. Do you know it takes more muscles to frown than it does to smile?”
He sat back in the chair and a smile curved his lips. “Is that better?”
It wasn’t just better—it was freaking amazing. He had a smile that could light up the darkest corner of the earth. There was no question that she was intensely attracted to him and she thought he might be more than a little bit drawn to her.
But she also had a feeling Gabriel wasn’t interested in a hot sexual fling, and that was all it would be. That was all she would ever be to any man. That was her choice.
For the next fifteen minutes they drank coffee and talked about the plans for the day. Joan brought in plates of biscuits and gravy with sausage patties on the side and a fresh fruit salad. Ted came in and joined them for small talk while they ate.
It was just after eight thirty before they were in Gabriel’s car and headed to their first stop for the day to check Kevin’s alibi for the night Sandy Peters had been murdered.
“Dave Hampton and I have a bit of a history,” Gabriel said. “I’ve had to arrest him several times for drunk and disorderly. The man loves his booze, and when he drinks too much, he gets stupid and nasty.”
“Are you expecting trouble with him? Because if you are, I’ve got your back, partner.”
He cast her a quick glance. “Are you always so sure of yourself?” he asked wryly.
“Only when I’m on the job,” she replied. “I know what I’m good at.”
“And what are you good at besides being a kick-ass FBI agent?”
Not much. She shoved the two hurtful words away. “I’m great at zapping food in a microwave. I can do five cartwheels in a row without getting dizzy, and when I sing I can make every dog in a five-mile area howl.”
He cast her a charming grin. “I’m impressed.”
“What about you? Besides being a kick-ass chief of police, what else are you good at?”
He frowned thoughtfully and then the frown lifted, and when he shot her a quick glance, his eyes were a lighter, more inviting blue that she hadn’t seen before.
“I can twist an aluminum can into a work of art. I can get almost any dog to eat out of my hand if I’m holding a good piece of steak, and I know all the lyrics to Manfred Mann’s ‘Blinded by the Light.’”
“Whew, now I’m the one impressed.” What impressed her more than anything was that he had responded with the same silly lightness as her. She didn’t think he had it in him. There was nothing sexier than a man who didn’t always take himself and the world too seriously.
However, the light mood disappeared as he pulled into Charlie’s Brake and Muffler Repair. “Dave works here as a mechanic,” he said.
“Let’s go talk to Dave the drunk and see if he can corroborate Kevin’s alibi.”
Gray clouds hung low in the sky as they walked toward the large building with four bays. Men’s voices rang out along with the sound of noisy tools being used.
They entered into a small office where a man stood behind a counter. “Charlie,” Gabriel greeted the man. “How’s business?”
“A little slow, but not too bad.” His gaze swept the length of Jordon. “I’m hoping you’re here because you or the little lady needs a brake job.”
“This little lady doesn’t need brakes,” Jordon said drily.
“Actually, we’re here to speak to Dave,” Gabriel said.
Charlie frowned. “Good grief. What has he done now?”
“Nothing. We just need to ask him a couple of questions,” Gabriel replied.
Charlie pointed to a nearby door. “You can use the break room. I’ll go get Dave and send him in.”
The break room held a card table that cast slightly to one side and was littered with what appeared to be petrified crumbs from meals past, a couple of chairs and a soda machine. The air smelled of grease and oil. Neither of them sat.
Dave Hampton was a big man with a shock of thick dark hair and a scowl that appeared to have been etched permanently into his face. “I haven’t done anything wrong. What’s this all about?” He glared first at Gabriel and then at Jordon as he wiped his hands on a filthy rag.
“We just need to ask you a couple of questions and then we’ll let you get back to work,” Gabriel said.
“Questions about what?” He stuffed the rag into his coverall’s pocket.
“About last Sunday night,” Gabriel said.
Dave narrowed his eyes. “What about it? I didn’t do anything stupid. If somebody said I did then they’re a damned liar.”
“It’s nothing like that,” Gabriel assured him. “We just need to know where you were and who you were with.”
“A bunch of us went to Hillbilly Harry’s to shoot some pool and have a few beers.” Dave visibly relaxed.
“Who was with you?”
“Wesley Mayfield, Neil Davies, Tom Richmond and Kevin and Glen Rollings. Is this about that woman’s murder?”
“What time did you all leave the bar?” Gabriel asked, ignoring Dave’s question.
“I guess it was around midnight or so.”
“And none of you left early?”
Dave rocked back on his heels and smiled slyly. “It’s Kevin, isn’t it? You’re wondering if he killed that woman.” Dave shook his head and released a small laugh. “Those Rollings boys are thick as thieves, and Kevin hates anything and anyone that has to do with Diamond Cove.”
“I got the impression that Kevin didn’t get along well with his brothers.” Jordon spoke up for the first time.
“That’s definitely not true. Kevin raised Glen and Ed after their mother died,” Dave said. “According to what Kevin told me, their father was a no-account drunk and Kevin had to step up to be both mother and father to his younger brothers. Like I said before, those three are thick as thieves.”
“Was Kevin drunk when you all left the bar?” Jordon asked.
Dave frowned. “We were all a little toasted, but he was no drunker than the rest of us. Is that all? I really need to get back to the shop.”
“That’s it for now,” Gabriel replied.
She and Gabriel didn’t speak again until they were back in his car. “There’s definitely no honor among thieves,” he said as he started the car. “Dave threw Kevin under the bus pretty quickly.”
“Kevin told us he got completely trashed, but Dave didn’t indicate that Kevin was all that drunk,” Jordon replied.
“He was sober enough to drive himself home,” Gabriel said. “And Ed has always given me the impression that Kevin isn’t close to him or Glen.”
Jordon pulled her collar up more tightly around her neck as a cold wind of uneasiness blew through her. “What worries me now is the possibility that we aren’t looking for just one killer, but maybe we have a brotherhood of murderers, and that’s definitely only going to complicate things.”
Chapter Five
“Where to now, boss?” Jordon asked as they pulled back on the main road.
“How do you feel about a little shopping?”
“Like any reasonable woman, I’m always up for some retail therapy,” she replied.
“In the store we’re going to you can buy a Branson T-shirt or a corncob pipe, a refrigerator magnet or any one of a thousand other items.”
“And I’m guessing that Glen Rollings might be my personal shopper?”
He flashed her a quick smile. “Glen is definitely the charmer of the Rollings boys, but I doubt that you need a personal shopper. You strike me as the kind of woman who usually knows exactly what she wants and you don’t stop until you get it.”
“You’ve got
that right.” She turned her head to look out of the passenger window. At the moment she’d like Gabriel Walters’s very kissable mouth to be on hers.
The errant thought could only be because she was cold and she knew being in his arms and kissing him would warm her. She’d been cold since she’d arrived in Branson, if not because of the wintry weather, then from the chill of hunting down a cold-blooded serial killer.
Were they up against a single murderer or was it a tag-team effort? Were Glen and Ed helping the brother who raised them get his revenge on Diamond Cove? It was crazy to think somebody would go to such lengths to destroy a business, but revenge killings had happened for far less.
She turned back to look at Gabriel once again. “What I don’t understand is if Kevin really wants to destroy Diamond Cove then why not just set fire to the place? Why not build a bomb and blow it all up?”
He turned into the parking lot of the Ozark Shed of Souvenirs and released a deep sigh. “I don’t know. I haven’t been able to get a handle on this from the very beginning. This is far more evil than a fire or a bomb. It takes a special kind of killer to stab somebody. This person apparently likes to kill up close and personal.”
With his words ringing in her ears, they exited the car and headed for the huge shop.
Evil. The word echoed in her brain. Yes, whatever was going on here was definitely evil.
She knew all about evil. She’d been locked in a cellar with evil personified for hours, just praying for death to take her quickly.
She shoved the thought away when they entered the store. She gazed around in amazement. Never had she seen so much stuff in one place. Tote bags and camping lanterns, wooden signs and toilet-paper holders in the shape of outhouses fought shelf space with traveler-size toothpaste and T-shirts and blinged-out wallets and purses.
She followed Gabriel to a sales counter where a gray-haired woman greeted them. “Gabriel,” she said with a big smile that lifted all of her wrinkles upward. “I hope that’s a girlfriend with you and you’ve come in to buy one of our real, stunning Ozark gold rings.”
Gabriel laughed, a low, deep and appealing sound. “Special Agent James, meet Wanda Tompkins, the orneriest woman in the entire town.”
“Nice to meet you, ma’am,” Jordon said.
“You, too,” Wanda replied and looked back at Gabriel. “So, if this pretty woman isn’t your girlfriend and you aren’t here to buy anything, then what can I help you with?”
“We need to speak with Glen,” Gabriel said.
“He’s upstairs in the back room.” Wanda gave Jordon a sly smile. “A shame you aren’t his girlfriend. He’s a good man who needs a good woman.”
“Be careful or I’ll arrest you for attempted matchmaking,” he replied in a mock-stern voice. “And do I need to remind you that this isn’t your first offense.”
Wanda laughed and waved a hand at him. “Go on with your bad self.” She turned her attention to a group of tourists who had entered the store.
“So Wanda has tried to hook you up?” Jordon asked as they climbed a narrow set of wooden stairs to the second floor.
“When I first arrived in town this store was robbed and that’s when I first met Wanda. There was about six months after that when she made finding me a wife her life’s mission. She still calls me occasionally to tell me about some nice woman I should meet.”
“And did you ever meet any of them?” she asked.
“A few.”
“They weren’t wife material?”
“They were for somebody, but just not for me.”
They reached the top of the stairs and she followed behind him as they wound through several aisles of merchandise. The man was drop-dead gorgeous, wore a respected uniform and seemed to be a genuinely nice guy.
There must be plenty of women in this town who would love to get hitched to a man like him. Cautious, that was what he’d told her he was, but she wondered if maybe he wasn’t just super picky.
Jordon had believed she’d married a man like Gabriel, a man who was well respected, principled and moral. She’d been head over heels in love with Jack and after that debacle she never wanted to give any man her heart. Although something about Gabriel made her think some time in a bed with him would be totally awesome.
As they reached the doorway to a storage room, she mentally kicked herself for her errant thoughts. She wasn’t here to have a quick, hot hookup. They had a killer to catch.
Like his brothers, Glen Rollings had pleasant features, blond hair and light blue eyes. He was tall and thin, and when Gabriel made the introductions, Glen’s gaze swept the length of her.
“You’re an FBI agent? Wow. That’s hot.” He gave her a wink that she assumed he thought was sexy. It was totally lame.
“We want to ask you a few questions,” Gabriel said.
Glen gazed at Jordon once again. “Maybe the superhot FBI agent wants to tie me up to interrogate me.” He winked at her again.
“Knock it off, Romeo. We’re here on serious business,” she said with narrowed eyes.
The smile on his face slowly faded. “I know why you’re here. Everyone knows a woman was murdered at Diamond Cove.” He shook his head. “I wish my brother had never bought that damned place and I also wish he’d keep his mouth shut about how much he hates it.”
“So where were you last Sunday night?” Gabriel asked.
As Glen told the same story that Dave had told them earlier, Jordon listened carefully for any inconsistencies.
“And what did you do after you left the bar?” she asked when he was finished.
“Went home...unfortunately alone,” he replied.
“Did any neighbors see you? Anyone call you?” she pressed.
“My closest neighbors are a retired couple who go to bed at the crack of dusk, and no, I didn’t get any calls.” Glen frowned and gazed at Gabriel. “I told you the last time you talked to me that you’re barking up the wrong tree. I’m a lover, not a killer.”
“Do you text?” Jordon asked.
Glen’s frown deepened. “Occasionally. Why?”
“Just curious. Can I see your phone?” Jordon asked.
Glen cast her a sly look. “I may be a dumb country hick, but I’ve watched enough cop shows to know you need a warrant for that.”
Jordon wasn’t surprised that he didn’t hand it over. Cell phones were as intimate as underwear. You could tell a lot about a person just by looking at their text messages.
Their questioning ended and they headed back downstairs. “I can’t leave here without buying a Branson T-shirt,” she said. “I love sleeping in oversize T-shirts.”
It took her only minutes to find a hot-pink shirt with Branson written in bold black letters across the chest. She paid Wanda and then they returned to the car.
They managed to hunt down two more of the men who had been at Hillbilly Harry’s with Kevin and Glen on the night of the murder, and then at six thirty they stopped in a pizza place for dinner.
“So, we know Kevin and Glen have a solid alibi until midnight on the night Sandy was murdered,” Jordon said as she pulled a piece of the pie onto the smaller plate in front of her.
“But none of the Rollingses can prove that they were home all night after midnight except Ed, who was supposedly home with his wife.” He frowned. “We need to touch base with her.”
“Could you prove where you were on a specific night between midnight and five or six in the morning?” She didn’t wait for his reply. “Unless you have somebody in bed with you, it’s hard to have an alibi for that time.”
“It’s a good thing I don’t need to provide an alibi for the middle of the night.” He took a bite of the pizza and stared off into the distance.
A lonely man. He wore his loneliness in quiet moments. She recognized it. She understood
it because she had a same core of emptiness inside her. She’d had it before her marriage and even more so since the day she’d walked out on her husband. It was a part of her that she tried not to acknowledge.
“I love pepperoni,” she said to break the silence that had stretched too long between them. She picked a piece of it off her pizza slice and popped it into her mouth. “Thick crust and pepperoni—there’s nothing better.”
For the next ten minutes they talked about the merits of different kinds of pizza. It was a welcome respite after the murder talk that had been the subject of most of their conversations during the day.
It was almost eight when he pulled up in the Diamond Cove parking area. The sun had gone down and dusk had given way to night.
“See you for breakfast?” She grabbed her purse and her shopping bag with the T-shirt.
“I’ll be here. Stay safe through the night.”
“Stop worrying about me. I’ll be just fine,” she replied. She got out of the car and opened her coat so she had easy access to her gun.
As she walked to her room, the loneliness she’d sensed in Gabriel resonated deep inside her. There were moments when she wished she had somebody meaningful in her life, somebody to share the ups and downs of the days and hold her in big strong arms through the night.
At one time she’d wanted that, she’d believed she deserved that, but she no longer believed.
“Been there, done that,” she muttered as she unlocked her door and went inside. And it had been a heartbreaking experience that she never wanted to repeat.
She tossed her purse on the bed and pulled the T-shirt out of the shopping bag and carried it and her gun with her into the bathroom.
After a quick shower she pulled on the soft cotton shirt and then climbed into the comfortable big bed with her laptop. As she had before, she typed notes into a growing file she’d named Means and Motive.
It was often those two elements that ultimately solved a case. Who had the means to execute the crime and who had the motive?
She’d been typing in notes for about half an hour when a bump sounded against the building near her door. Every nerve inside her electrified. Her heartbeat raced as she grabbed her gun from the nightstand.
Scene of the Crime Page 6