But it wasn’t going to be his uncle.
Was it?
He couldn’t stop the doubt from niggling at him as he drove back toward town. She was so sure, so insistent about what happened that night . . . and so obviously in danger.
He was about forty minutes away from his uncle’s home. Driving on Richard Franklin Road, he headed toward I-26 while his brain processed everything he’d learned over the last twenty-four hours.
A question tickled the back of his mind and forced its way forward.
What was he going to do if Uncle Frank was involved? He’d have to do what he was trained to do. He would recuse himself and watch one of his friends arrest his uncle. The thought pierced deep. Or he could request permission to stay on the case . . .
And what about his other cases? Cases that needed his attention? Deserved his attention. He’d have to delegate, see if some of the other detectives would be willing to take over some of them.
Colton snatched his phone and made a few calls. When he was satisfied his most important cases were taken care of, he hung up and dialed Hunter. His friend and fellow detective answered on the second ring. “Hello?”
“Hey, you got anything from the fire?”
“No, but Serena’s out for blood. It’s a good thing her animals weren’t there at the time.”
Colton winced. He could only imagine Serena’s grief if something had happened to her beloved pets. “What about the evidence from the tree?”
“Rick’s in the lab right now working on it. He’s been at it all night.”
“Aw, poor thing.” He knew his voice held only mock sympathy. They all put in long hours when a case was hot. But he was grateful for Rick’s hard work.
Hunter laughed. “Yeah, he’s milking this one for all he can get.” A pause, then more seriously, “You know he’s threatened to have the captain make us attend a mandatory seminar Rick’s teaching on new technology in crime solving, don’t you?”
“So that was the weird look on his face.”
“What?”
“He had this little secret smile when he was at the airport working the crime scene. The more I think about it, he had that handy little fingerprint gadget and didn’t even try to tell us how it worked.”
“I know how it works.”
“No, you know the result you get with it. You don’t know every stinking detail about how to get that result.”
“True.”
“We have to think of some reason we can’t be there.” Colton was all for new technology and appreciated that it made his job easier, but there was no way he wanted to sit in a classroom and listen to Rick lecture. As much as he liked the man, Rick’s sense of humor fled when he taught.
Hunter said, “After Rick finished with the tree and the playhouse, he worked with the arson investigator to get samples from Serena’s house. He isolated three different substances off the piece of fabric that also matched residue in the house.”
“Like what?”
“Sulfuric acid, sugar, and potassium chlorate.”
“So what does that mean?”
“It makes for an interesting mixture. Put it all together and you get a bomb that ignites on impact. No fuse needed.”
Colton let out a low whistle. “Like a homemade hand grenade? But how did he launch it from the neighbor’s house into Serena’s? There’s no way he could have thrown it that far.”
“There are a number of possibilities. We’ll keep looking and see if we can figure out which one is the right one.”
Colton pursed his lips as he thought. “All right. What about the guy who was killed at the airport?”
“Nothing on him yet. Rick’s still processing everything. Guy didn’t have any ID on him. Rick will run his prints through AFIS and see if anything turns up.”
Rick would do a thorough job. Colton just wished he’d hurry it up. “I’m headed to see my uncle. I left Jillian stashed in a safe place for now.”
“Where?”
“I’d rather not say over the phone.”
“I understand. Just let me know if you need anything else.”
“Will do.”
Colton hung up the phone and tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. Ten more minutes and maybe he’d be able to get to the bottom of everything. At least he didn’t have to worry about Jillian getting into trouble while he questioned his uncle.
Meg looked at the clock and groaned. She’d just gotten to school and already she wanted to be home and in the barn.
Or with her mother. She missed her and she didn’t even have a phone number to call.
“Meg?”
Meg’s head snapped up at the teacher’s voice. “Ma’am?”
“Can you answer the question?”
“No, ma’am.”
Mrs. Burcell’s brows drew together in a frown. “Is everything all right, Meg?”
Meg glanced around at her snickering classmates and stiffened her spine. “Yes, ma’am. Everything is just fine.”
“Class, that’s enough,” Mrs. Burcell said sharply. The class quieted somewhat. She said to Meg, “All right. Well, maybe you can try the next problem?”
She looked at the book, hating the fact she could feel the heat rising in her cheeks. “What number?”
“Seven.”
Meg studied the problem. Easy peasy. “The answer is twelve.”
Mrs. Burcell lifted a brow. “That’s correct. You want to tell us the steps you took to get to that answer?”
So Meg explained the math problem while her mind went to wondering what her mother and Blake were up to.
And if she should be worried about the man she saw hanging around the parking lot at school.
After giving herself a tour of the house, Jillian decided to check out the clothes. The outfit she had on was the one she’d worn yesterday and desperately needed washing. She picked two outfits from Claire’s closet and tried them on. They fit well enough. She kept on the last outfit and walked back into the kitchen where the computer on the desk snagged her attention. Longing hit her. She needed to see Meg’s sweet face, hear her laughter. She needed to tell her daughter she loved her.
But did she dare?
She shivered and crossed her arms over her stomach.
No, she couldn’t take any chances.
Meg would be wondering why she hadn’t called. So would Blake. Blake Wyatt, who was only six years older than she, but he seemed older. Wiser. He’d always been that way. When she’d finally broken down and told him most of the truth about her past and that she was on the run, he’d insisted on teaching her how to defend herself.
As a former Army Ranger, he’d been more than qualified. He’d also wanted to investigate and find out who was after her, but Jillian refused to give him that information. He’d grudgingly accepted she wasn’t going to talk and agreed to help her by training her and teaching her.
And Jillian needed to get word to him that she was fine. Well, as fine as could be expected at the moment.
An email would work.
She drew in a deep breath. She’d been so careful. She couldn’t mess up now. But she couldn’t afford for Blake to start looking for her either.
An idea formed. She walked into the kitchen and found the phone. She heard barking as she dialed Colton’s number. The sound made the hair on the back of her neck stand up and she walked to the window to investigate. One of the animals sat at the base of a tree staring up, his tail thumping the ground. Jonah, making his rounds, saw her and gave her a wave. Jillian waved back and her nerves settled at Colton’s, “What’s up?”
“How safe is this computer?”
“I’m fine, thanks, how are you?”
“Colton, you just left.”
He chuckled. “It’s safe, why?”
“I want to send an email.”
“To who?”
“A friend.” Why was he being so nosy?
“Why are you being so secretive?”
She flinched. She didn’t want to h
ave secrets from him, but for now, she had no choice.
“Jillian?”
“I’m just being careful, Colton. How do you know the computer is safe?”
He drew in a deep breath. “Because I’ve used it for work. It has all kinds of security.”
“Okay. Good.” She paced to stand in front of the machine.
“Hey, Jilly?”
She gulped at the nickname. And wondered why it didn’t flame her anger like it had earlier. “Yes?”
“Be careful. Stay inside and keep the alarm on. I’ll be back soon.”
“Right.” She paused. “Colton, you’re the one who needs to be careful. I know you’re family, but his career’s on the line and if you—”
“I’ll be fine. I’ll call you soon. Jonah just texted and he said all was clear, but just . . . keep the dogs close, okay?”
“Sure. Bye.”
She hung up and whispered, “Please, God, let this be the right thing. Don’t let him get hurt.”
Jillian walked into the den and seated herself in the leather chair to face the flat screen monitor. Before she could change her mind, she pulled up the website Blake had shown her and started typing.
Blake, just a quick note to let you know I’m fine. Working on righting a wrong and facing my past. Give my love to the girl. Hugs, Jillian.
She pressed Send and sat back with a sigh. How she missed Meg’s sweet snaggle-toothed face, her sweaty little-girl smell after she spent time in the barn with the horses. Jillian’s empty arms ached to hold and hug her.
But all that would have to wait. She drew in another steadying breath. Her growling stomach distracted her and she decided to fix a bite to eat. The ham and cheese sandwich supplies Colton had sent along in the cooler filled her up but didn’t provide her any relief from her spiraling thoughts.
Time slowed so much Jillian felt sure all the clocks in the house had to be broken. Colton had to be at his uncle’s house by now. Had he confronted the man yet?
Restlessness smacked her and she stood to pace the room from the kitchen to the den and back. She needed to be doing something, researching, helping Colton face down his uncle. Something.
Anything except this crazy waiting.
She grunted. She sure didn’t think much of Colton’s Plan B.
11
Colton pulled into his uncle’s driveway and parked at the top of the circle. Uncle Frank had done well for himself. He knew his mother took pride in her brother’s wealth and position in the state. She enjoyed the benefits that came with being his sister. He couldn’t help wondering how she would handle it if Frank’s career came to an abrupt, scandalous end.
Colton shuddered at the thought. She wouldn’t handle it well at all. As he looked around, he realized how much he’d taken for granted his family’s affluence.
Until he’d met Jillian.
She’d been like no other girl in the high school. She’d drawn him like a moth to a flame and had been irresistible to him. Her sweetness, her lack of guile, everything about her. When she’d shown up in the youth group at the church, he’d been thrilled.
For Colton, the youth group had been a place where he could be real. Could express his newfound faith and grow in it. Regardless of what his parents believed.
He still prayed for them even though he didn’t see them very much. The tension was just too high.
Shrugging off the thoughts of the family he loved, but had nothing in common with, Colton jogged up the brick steps and knocked on the door. Calling ahead had seemed like a good idea at the time, only now, the place looked deserted. He knocked again.
The door swung open.
“Ian.”
Ian gave him a fatherly smile, showing dimples in each cheek. It made him look younger than his sixty-some years. “Colton, it’s been awhile. Come on in.”
Relieved to get out of the heat, Colton stepped inside, welcoming the delicious coolness as he shook hands with his uncle’s . . . friend? Hired hand? Household help? Colton was never really sure how to think of Ian. But he liked the man. “I’m looking for Uncle Frank. I called and he said he’d be here all day.”
A frown wrinkled Ian’s forehead. “He got a phone call about fifteen minutes ago. About five minutes after that, he came storming out of his office yelling something about an emergency campaign meeting at the headquarters and he’d be back when he was done.”
“He didn’t stop to tell you I was coming?”
“No, I’m sorry.”
Colton shrugged, hiding the sudden swell of anxiety. Did his uncle really have an emergency or was he avoiding Colton? His cell phone vibrated and he snatched it from his pocket.
Uncle Frank. “Hello?”
“Colton, boy, I forgot you were coming. I got a phone call and had to head over to headquarters.” His regret came through loud and clear.
Colton relaxed. “It’s all right, Uncle Frank. But I do need to talk to you soon.”
“I don’t know how long this is going to take. Why don’t I give you a call tomorrow morning? Maybe we can meet for lunch.”
“Sounds good.”
Colton hung up the phone and guilt swarmed him for doubting the man. It had to be a misunderstanding. There was no way his uncle would kill anyone. Especially Governor Martin. Jillian must have seen something else.
But what? Shooting someone was pretty straightforward. Kind of hard to misinterpret that. So what had happened?
He stood in the foyer thinking.
Ian had left, probably to give him some privacy with his phone call.
Colton decided to take advantage of the moment and walked down the hall to his uncle’s office.
The home had changed little since he’d been a kid. A few new pieces of furniture, new paint, and updated light fixtures. But other than that, he remembered the fun he’d had in this house chasing his younger cousins and fighting with his older ones. He was one of two children, but his mother had four sisters and a brother, his uncle Frank. Which meant holidays were full of family, laughter, and fun. At least until he’d defied his parents’ wishes and told them he wasn’t sure he wanted to go into the family law business.
At his uncle’s desk, Colton picked up the picture of him with his family. It had been taken at the lake out on the boat. He had been about sixteen years old and his sister, Marie, had been twelve. Happier times. Good times. A picture of Uncle Frank, Aunt Elizabeth, and Carmen sat next to Colton’s family. More pictures lined the credenza on the opposite wall. Frank was a family man. And as far as Colton was concerned, he had no reason to question that.
His attention swiveled to his uncle’s gun collection, mounted proudly on the wall behind Frank’s desk.
Minus the one he’d been cleaning that now lay on the desk. Jillian had said the man had used one of the antique guns. It would be impossible to tell now. Ten years and many cleanings later would have wiped away all traces of any wrongdoing. Or right doing for that matter. Any traces of anything.
He picked up the one that had been left on the desk. Frank had left in a hurry, discarding the gun and cloth in his haste to get to the meeting.
“Colton?”
He spun to find his Aunt Elizabeth and cousin Carmen standing in the doorway. “Hi.” He put the weapon back on the desk. “I came to see Uncle Frank, but he had some emergency meeting.” He smiled at his twenty-year-old cousin. “Hey, squirt.”
Her dark eyes rimmed in black eyeliner met his. “Hey there.” Even in the midst of her most rebellious stage she’d always seemed to appreciate him—even if she didn’t listen to his advice.
He gave her a quick hug, then looked down at her. “Taking a break from summer school?” he asked.
She finally smiled and he was glad to see the dark shadows that usually inhabited her eyes were absent for once. “I was coming home on Friday, but there was some kind of power issue on campus and they canceled classes until Monday.” She feigned a pout. “Really rotten luck, huh?”
Shocked she’d actually made a jo
ke, he gave a quick laugh to cover his surprise.
He kissed the top of her head and she spun back to her mother. “I’m going to put our stuff away.” With a wave to Colton, she strode out the door.
Elizabeth watched her go with an indulgent smile tinged with sadness, then looked back at Colton. She must have read his expression because she laughed. “I know. I spoil her.”
“Yeah, you do. But she looks like she’s doing well right now. Hope it continues.”
“I do too.” Elizabeth waved for him to follow her into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator, and pulled out a bottle of vitamin water. She handed it to him, then pulled a glass from the cabinet.
He smiled. “It wouldn’t hurt you to drink out of the bottle, you know.”
She lifted a brow and gave him a haughty look. “Me? Drink out of a bottle? How long have you known me, darling?”
“Long enough.”
She turned serious and studied him. “What’s on your mind, Colton?”
She’d always been able to read him pretty well. He took another sip of the water. Maybe she was the one to talk to instead of Frank. “Was Uncle Frank friends with Governor Martin?”
His aunt froze for a moment. “Harrison Martin.” A sigh slipped between her lips. “Well, I haven’t heard that name in a long time.”
“Were they friends?” he asked again.
“Yes. I suppose they were. They worked together quite a bit. Golfed together on occasion.” She lifted a shoulder in a delicate shrug. “I’d say they were friends.”
“How did the governor die again?”
“A car wreck.” Sadness etched lines into her forehead. “He lost control on Culver Park Road and crashed into a tree. Tragic.”
Colton nodded as he rubbed the water bottle between his palms. “Is Uncle Frank all right?”
“All right?” She tilted her head. “Well, yes, as far as I know. Why?”
He shook his head. He knew this was something he needed to discuss with his uncle in private. “Just haven’t seen him for a while—except on TV—and thought I’d come by and have a chat.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What are you not telling me?”
When a Secret Kills Page 7