Colton's Secret Investigation

by Justine Davis

  “Yeah.”

  “Is Sam excited? Does he even remember them?”

  “I...don’t know.” He’d almost forgotten about that. In fact, in the midst of the case and everything else that had been changing so rapidly, he’d overlooked a few things. Including telling his son they were going to have company. “I’ve been a bit consumed.”

  “I know the feeling,” Daria said. “I feel guilty every minute I’m not working on the case.”

  “So do I.”

  “But I was going crazy, spinning my wheels. I was hoping getting outside for a bit would help.”

  “Did it?” he asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “I suppose,” Stefan said slowly, “the only way to find out is to try, but the thought of going back to the office makes me cringe.”

  “Me, too,” she agreed. Then, rather hesitantly, she said, “I have most of the stuff on my laptop at home. That’s where I was working before the walls closed in on me. We could...go there instead, if you think it would be better.”

  He was smiling at her correct assumption they would both rather be working than pretending there was such a thing as time off during a case like this one. And then it registered what she’d suggested. She was inviting him to her home?

  To work, idiot.

  But he couldn’t deny he was curious.

  Daria said her house has a big yard. We could move there.

  Sam’s words echoed in his head. He could only wish life was as simple as a five-year-old could make it sound.

  And he caught himself again. His mind was careening out of control. How could he be wishing it were that simple, with a woman who was not only a work colleague, but one he’d never even kissed, and who had made it pretty clear she considered him off-limits?

  “Okay, obviously that was a bad idea.”

  Daria’s words snapped him out of his reverie yet again. “I...no. No, it wasn’t. I was just...thinking about something Sam said this morning. About...your yard.”

  God, he sounded like a complete idiot. He was usually reasonably articulate, but when it came to anything outside of work with this woman, he seemed to trip all over himself.

  He tried to recover. “He’ll be jealous I got to see it.”

  “Well, he’ll have to come another time, then.”

  And so he ended up following her, since he’d need his car to go pick up Sam later. She’d mentioned she lived just outside the city limits, so he wasn’t surprised when they left the density of town behind and headed into the foothills. But he was when she turned into a long, curving driveway that led up to a ranch-style house with a touch of The Lodge’s log finish, a prow sort of front with huge windows, sitting on a slight rise. The way it was situated, he figured it would have a great view down over the hills, and that if you didn’t know, you’d never guess there were other, similar houses on the way up to here.

  And she hadn’t exaggerated if that entire clearing behind the house was the yard she’d talked about.

  A garage door rolled up as they neared, and she pulled into the shelter of it. He pulled up behind her in the driveway, stopped and got out.

  “Wow,” he said, looking back the way they had come. He couldn’t see any sign of the neighbors he knew were there, except for a glimpse of a roofline off to the left. “Nice.”

  “It’s bigger than I need, but it was a great deal, and my dream location.” She walked over to him. “I like it. It’s so...peaceful.”

  “You don’t feel... I don’t know, isolated up here?”

  “There are neighbors closer than you might think. Besides, I’ve had enough of living with a lot of people around all the time.” Her expression shifted, as if she were remembering something specific. “I find it a nice change.”

  “I’ve always thought of myself as a city guy, but this could change my mind.”

  “At night, if it’s clear, I get a bit of the sparkle of lights in town,” she said. “And if I look the other way, I get the mountains. Seems perfect to me.”

  “Best of both,” he agreed.

  “And don’t forget the backyard,” she said, grinning now. Damn, it lit up her face, and those golden-brown eyes. “Come on, I’ll show you, and you can decide if you think Sam would like it.”

  He was almost sure he already knew the answer to that, but he went along anyway. And the moment they rounded the corner of the house, the “almost” vanished. What kid wouldn’t love this, a vast expanse of open meadow with occasional trees, intriguing paths and a small stream that wound its way down past the house? He saw a small, arched bridge that crossed it farther out, along a path that disappeared on the other side into thick trees. The whole area was groomed enough to be in control, but with enough wildness left to look natural.

  “The stream is just a trickle in summer, but the rest of the year it flows pretty steadily,” she said. “And the path that leads over the bridge continues on to the tree platform.”

  “Definitely five-year-old heaven,” he murmured. “Or any other age, for that matter.”

  “I like it.”

  “How long have you been here?” Stefan asked.

  “Three years now. I lived in town when I first started with the sheriff, but I always wanted a place with more room.”

  He studied the yard, then her. “Who does your gardening?”

  She laughed. “And that quickly he spots the problem.”

  “It just looks...intensive.”

  “It is. Usually I do most of the day to day, and I have a crew come in every month to handle the bigger stuff. But since this case... I hired a service some of the neighbors use. And I confess, it’s been a relief.”

  “Might be worth it to keep them, then. Be more fun to enjoy than to worry about.”

  “I’ll have to look at the budget,” she said.

  His gaze snapped from the bridge he’d been admiring to her face. Surely money wasn’t an issue for her? With her connections?

  And you think she’d use those connections?

  He realized with a sudden shock that he not only liked this woman, he admired her. Not just for her smarts and work ethic, which was a match for his own, but for the fact that she’d carved out a spot for herself in a job that wasn’t always welcoming to women.

  Add that to the fact that he was, plain and simple, hot for her, and he suddenly felt like he was in way over his head, in a very different way than he’d felt since Sam had arrived.

  Maybe this hadn’t been the best idea, coming here where they would be alone. Secluded. Unnoticed. And following her into the house seemed like an even worse idea. But follow her he did, when she walked back around the corner of the house and into the double garage. Which was tidy, although somewhat full, with boxes stacked along one wall and metal shelving filled with various things on the other.

  She stopped. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think. If we’re going to be working for a while, do you want to pull your car inside?”

  He could think of a lot of other things he’d like to share with her besides garage space. Before he could descend into crudity—but not before a few images had flashed through his mind that made him very aware just how close to being out of control he was—he thanked her and went to move the car.

  At least it would be warmer when he went to get Sam, he thought as he got out and she closed the garage door behind them. And as if she’d sensed where his thoughts had gone, which he wouldn’t put past her at this point, she said, “When it’s time to get Sam, there’s a shortcut over the hill to the Alvarezes’ place. You can be there in less than ten minutes.”

  “Thanks,” he rasped, his voice sounding oddly tight, even to him.

  The garage entrance put them in the kitchen. Where his was sleek, modern and rather cold, hers was...homey, he guessed was the word. The appliances were modern, yes, but the butcher-block countertops
gave it a warmer feel, as did the artful arrangement of branches with dried fall leaves that graced the large island.

  Beyond that island was the great room, a wide-open space boasting a big river-rock fireplace, which, judging by the stack of logs beside it, was not just for show. There was a large, cushy chair at an angle to the hearth, and beside it a large basket of yarn, with something half-knitted lying on top. He could see the needles with their indeed pointy ends. He found himself smiling again at the memory.

  The rest of the room looked just as homey. There were two comfortable-looking couches, one arranged to take advantage of the view out the front, which was as spectacular as he’d envisioned, the other facing the fireplace, where he guessed it would be warm and cozy on a cold winter night. Maybe with snow falling outside, reducing the world to a soft quiet.

  He yanked his thoughts off that path when he realized he was picturing them together on a night like that, on that couch before a roaring fire, wrapped in each other as the snow fell.

  As if reading his mind, she went to that fireplace and quickly, efficiently built a fire. She had obviously learned what worked, for the paper and kindling she’d laid out neatly were almost immediately aflame, and when she added a couple of bigger logs, they caught quickly.

  The fire completed the image. And he faced the simple fact. Her home was everything his wasn’t. Warm. Welcoming. Just as Daria herself was.

  He wondered just how much trouble he’d gotten himself into by coming here.

  Chapter 20

  Daria had a moment to be grateful she’d instigated what she called her full-schedule protocol: when things were normal, she tended to get a bit lax about keeping things picked up, but when things got crazy she was a lot more strict, knowing she had no time to deal with looking for things she might have left here or there.

  And things hadn’t been normal for months now.

  “Coffee?” she suggested. “Hot chocolate, maybe?” She gave him a sideways glance. “Or, if you’re insane enough to want it, something cold?”

  “Let’s keep it warm,” he said, and there was a rough note in his voice, slight yet enough to have her thinking of other contexts in which that comment could be meant. “Coffee’s fine,” he added quickly.

  She only nodded, because she didn’t quite trust herself to speak, and went to the kitchen to set up the coffee maker. While it was running, she got out two coffee mugs from the cupboard. Her glance fell on the mug that Keith Parker had given her as a joke, before they’d ever gone out, with a scene of a California beach and the caption “If I was here, I wouldn’t need hot coffee.” He’d known she was from California, but nothing else. No one here knew the full truth of her California roots except Trey.

  Stefan took the mug of coffee she offered him, and then she led the way to her home office. She booted up the computer, sent the display to her larger, separate monitor, and a few minutes later they were looking at the data they had on Curtis Shruggs. Not that it did any good, because after going through it all yet again, and then again, after nearly three hours spent retreading worn, unproductive territory, they had nothing more than they’d started with.

  They went for refills on the coffee then walked into the living room. It was warm, that special kind of warmth that only came from a wood fire. She added another log, aware as she did so that Stefan was pacing the room. She stayed in front of the fire, both for the warmth and the distance from this man who so unsettled her.

  Finally he said, “I know we didn’t turn up any registered weapons, but I was thinking we should check for a fishing or hunting license in his name tomorrow. It might give us a clue if he frequents wilderness areas or lakes.”

  “Good idea. Parks and Wildlife would have the records.” She grimaced. “Although a fishing license is for the entire state, all fresh water, so it wouldn’t narrow it down. I’m almost hoping there’s nothing, because the range that would open up would be huge.”

  “Too bad they’re not like a passport, with entry stamps.”

  She nodded, thinking. “But if he has a hunting license, the stamps might tell us something. There are places that are prime for waterfowl, others for elk, whatever stamps he might have. It’s more than we have now, anyway.”

  “Of course,” Stefan said rather wryly, “we’re assuming a serial killer gives a damn about permits to hunt or fish or anything else.”

  “Our lives would be easier if it worked that way, wouldn’t it?” she agreed, feeling a bit morose about it at the moment.

  “They call ’em outlaws for a reason,” Stefan quipped.

  She had to laugh at that one, even though it was a rather grim laugh. “We sure don’t have much else.”

  “I know,” Stefan said, starting to pace the room again as he ran through what they’d gleaned so far. “To his assistant’s knowledge, he doesn’t play golf, or tennis, or ski. The most she had on his leisure time was that he’s used The Chateau spa for a massage now and then.”

  Daria suppressed a shudder. “Can you imagine being one of the staff who did that? Especially if you were a woman?”

  “Frightening,” he agreed. He shook his head, slowly. “I’ve been thinking his assistant is lucky she doesn’t fit the victim profile.”

  Another shudder, and Daria began pacing, as well. “Is it making you as crazy as it is me that we know who he is, but have no idea where?”

  “Well, at least it’s a fairly narrow search area, since he’s likely still in Colorado,” Stefan said. “I mean, he hasn’t bought a plane, train or bus ticket, and we’ve got a watch on his credit cards and there’s been no activity, no gas purchases, or food.”

  Daria stopped pacing to look at him. And then she chuckled.

  “I said something funny?” he asked, clearly puzzled.

  “No. It’s just sometimes I forget. That to you, the entire state of Colorado is a small search area.”

  “Well...yes.” He smiled back at her. “But we’ve got a lot more resources, don’t forget.”

  “Lucky for us,” she said. Then she looked at him curiously. “Did you always want to be an FBI agent?”

  He laughed. “No. I wanted to be a baseball star.”

  “Understandable.” She tried picturing him in a baseball uniform. The image came quite easily. “So how’d you end up where you are?”

  He hesitated, then shrugged. “They sort of recruited me.”

  “The FBI?”

  He nodded. “Something...brought me to their attention, and they came calling and told me to come see them as soon as I finished college.”

  “‘Something’?”

  “An incident when I was nineteen. A shooter, at a restaurant.”

  Her eyes widened. “What happened?”

  He gave her a rather sheepish look. “In reality? I got mad. I figured if he was going to kill me, he was going to have to work for it.”

  “And?” she prodded. “What did you do?”

  “It was a pizza place. I had just gotten mine, so I offered him a slice. It kind of took him off his stride, and he instinctively reached out to take it.” Another shrug. “I grabbed his weapon and threw it across the room and shoved him back out the front door.”

  “That was you!” she exclaimed. “I remember that incident. You were a hero across the country.”

  And, she realized with a little jolt, he’d visited the White House. If the timing had been different...

  He grimaced rather ruefully. “I kept telling them I was just saving my own ass, but people needed a hero, I guess.”

  And that, she thought, was what made a true hero. One who didn’t see what they did as heroic, but just as what had to be done. “I can’t believe I didn’t remember your name.”

  “Not the rarest name around,” he said with equanimity.

  “You really were unimpressed with yourself.” She flashed him a smile. “Which impresse
d me.”

  “My folks saw to that. My dad said he was proud of what I’d done, but if I let it go to my head he’d take me down a peg.” He grinned suddenly. “I’ve got about four inches and thirty pounds on him, but I have no doubt he could take me out even now.”

  “Because you’d let him,” she said softly.

  The grin faded, changed to a slow, loving smile. “Yeah. Yeah, I would.”

  And Daria was seized with a strong, very real desire to someday meet the father who had raised this man to become who he was, from pizza-parlor hero to honest, tough, smart FBI agent.

  And an even stronger desire to have that kind of loving smile from this man turned on her.

  She turned away before he read the longing in her eyes. Then headed back for the warmth of the hearth and the fire, since she was denying herself a different kind of warmth.

  But an instant later she knew she’d been too late, because he came up behind her and said huskily, “Are we going to just keep ignoring this?”

  She opened her mouth to say, in her best innocent tone, “Ignoring what?” Knew she couldn’t manage it. She thought about simply saying, “Yes, we are.” Couldn’t manage that, either.

  In the end, what she said came out a little desperately. “We have to.”

  “Why?”

  “So many reasons.”

  “Such as?”

  “You need to settle in with Sam. I’m older than you.” She swallowed tightly. “And there are things you don’t know.”

  “You’re secretly a video-game addict?”

  She blinked. “What? No, I—”

  “As for Sam? Yes, it’s been a struggle, but we’ve made great strides, thanks to you. He adores you, and I think you like him. So there’s that argument shot down. Older?” He made a dismissive sound. “Big deal. If it was the other way around, it wouldn’t even occur to anyone to think about it. So strike a blow for equality. As for not knowing everything about each other, well, that’s half the fun, isn’t it? Discovering all that?”

  She turned and stared up at him. He was so close. So big. Couldn’t he be less gorgeous? She could feel his heat. She could feel an answering heat building in her, no matter how she tried to fight it. It made the warmth from the fire seem a mere flicker. She couldn’t even imagine what it would be like if he actually touched her.