Midnight Rider

by Joanna Wayne

  “Yeah, just trying to get my mind around my first kill.”

  “Save the angst. Your record is still intact for now. Clive didn’t die from your bullet, though he probably would have, given time, since he didn’t have sense enough to go to a hospital.”

  She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, renewing her equilibrium. “What killed him?”

  “His throat was slit.”

  “Self-inflicted?”

  “Seems doubtful,” Rick said, “considering there’s no weapon on-site. There is a bloodied car outside registered to him, so apparently he managed to drive himself here after the attack. Judging from the condition of the body, I’d place time of death about twenty-four hours ago.”

  “Who does the apartment belong to?”

  “Clive rented it four days ago using an alias he’d used before. There was no furniture except a dirty futon. No food except an open jar of peanut butter, cracker crumbs and a half-eaten candy bar.

  “There was, however, beer in a foam cooler and some weed on the floor next to the futon. The heater was humming and roaches were having a party. Clive was the only attendant not having a good time.”

  “Convenient robbery of an easy, half-dead victim?”

  “Doesn’t look that way. His wallet, holding two hundred-dollar bills, was still in his pocket.”

  Her mind rushed ahead as he described how the body had been found.

  “If he was a paid assassin, the woman who hired him must have come back and finished him off to keep him from talking,” Brit said, breaking in while he was still talking.

  “She or he,” Rick corrected. “Women are definitely not the only ones who hire killers. Either way, it would mean that Clive’s killer has now moved into doing their own dirty work. More reason for you not to take the kind of risk you took last night. There are times even the best of cops need backup. Bull riders don’t fill that bill.”

  “Yet one managed to save my life last night.”

  “A very lucky break. You could have both been killed.”

  “But the fact that Melanie pulled a gun on me gives even more credence to my hunch that she’s the one behind all of this. Of course, I’ll have a better handle on that once I’ve questioned her—if she talks to me. She knows her way around the system. I look for her to clam up until she gets a lawyer.”

  “In which case, you need to head back to Houston,” Rick said. “I suppose rodeo boy is still at your beck and call.”

  The comment riled her, but it was just Rick’s way. She usually gave as good as she got. This time it was different, but there was no way Rick could know they’d kissed and that it was taking all her willpower to fight the swelling attraction.

  “I’ll call you after I see Melanie and let you know my plans.”

  “You got it. Stay safe.”

  “Yeah, you, too. Get back to work.”

  He had a crime scene to cover. She had a bull rider to catch up with.

  * * *

  CANNON WAS STANDING with Travis, watching several magnificent horses prance around the corral just behind the horse barn. He’d filled Travis in on the barest of details surrounding the attack on Brit and their run-in with Melanie and Sheriff Garcia last night, careful not to give away any information that might be classified.

  “Everybody makes enemies in our line of work,” Travis said. “And we deal with some real loonies out there so you can’t take anything lightly.”

  “So I’m learning.”

  One of the horses moved to the edge of the fence. Cannon reached out and ran his fingers through the long mane before giving the animal a good ear scratching.

  The sun’s warmth beat through his shirt even though the occasional gusts of wind were cold and the temperature was in the high forties.

  According to R.J., the weatherman had promised another light freeze tonight. An early winter storm was moving in from the west, bringing snow and hail to parts of the south.

  No more than the possibility of a few flakes was forecast for Dallas. If they got that, the ground wouldn’t be cold enough for it to stick. Heavy snowstorms in Dallas were rare, but even a light snow or coating of ice caused havoc on the roads.

  “I’m glad we have this chance to talk alone,” Travis said. “I figure that you have your issues with R.J. We all did before we moved onto the Dry Gulch.”

  Cannon had been expecting but still dreading this conversation. He’d expected it to be initiated by R.J., but probably better discussing it with Travis.

  “I guess issues are one way of putting it. More to the point, I have no interest in moving back to the Dry Gulch Ranch. R.J. was never a father to me. I’ve never been a son to him.”

  “Far as I know, R.J. wasn’t a father to anybody,” Travis said. “Not much of a husband, either. He was an alcoholic, a gambler and womanizer.”

  “That seems to size it up,” Cannon agreed. “Great DNA we’ve inherited.”

  “Could have been a lot worse,” Travis said. “R.J. had a tendency to marry well. At least he did with my mother. Adam says the same, so we have that going for us.”

  “So what’s your point?” Cannon said. “Are you trying to say I owe R.J. something for providing my mother with sperm?”

  “Hardly. Forgiving R.J. has been hard going, even worse for Leif, who hated R.J. more on my account than his. But R.J. has heart and he grows on you. And forgiveness has a way of doing as much or more for the forgiver as for the forgiven.”

  Travis smiled. “Learned that little gem of truth from my wife, Faith. My philosophy never gets much beyond a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.”

  And what Cannon had to do didn’t involve the Dry Gulch Ranch. Though he couldn’t deny that when he’d gone out walking this morning, the ranch had felt more like home than anywhere he could ever remember being.

  “I know you love the rodeo and it’s been all you needed until now,” Travis continued. “But if it turns out you’re a father, your life is about to change big-time. Maybe you should at least consider making the Dry Gulch your headquarters. You could hire a nanny to help with Kimmie, but you’d have family who love her around to make sure she’s always in the best of hands.”

  Cannon hated to admit that Travis made sense—for Kimmie’s sake. But Cannon had made up his mind long ago. He’d live life on his terms.

  “I’m not much of a team player,” Cannon admitted. “And the will specifically stipulates I’d have to live here and work the ranch full-time for at least a year.”

  “True, but R.J. has already bent the hell out of that provision. Leif’s an attorney. I’m with the DPD. Crazy thing is we’re both cowboys at heart, same as Adam is. You’d have to blast us out to get us to live anywhere but on the Dry Gulch Ranch now.”

  “Glad it works for you.”

  “Just saying, give it some thought,” Travis said. “What have you got to lose?”

  “Having a ranch of my own.” And the freedom to do with it exactly as he pleased.

  Cannon looked away and saw Brit heading toward them. He couldn’t read her facial expression from this distance, but she was walking fast, long strides, shoulders back, head held high. He hoped that was a good sign and that the news hadn’t been as bad as she’d feared.

  He pushed Travis’s suggestions from his mind as urgent matters took hold. The ache to take Brit in his arms and absorb some of her worry and fears hit hard as she approached. But one kiss did not a relationship make, no matter how electrifying it had been.

  “How did it go?” he asked.

  “I’m actually not sure yet, but you’ll be glad to know that Captain Bradford changed her mind and said it was okay for me to interrogate Melanie Crouch.”

  “Back in the saddle again,” Cannon said. “That is good news.”

  “Yes it is, but you’re still persona non grata as far as Bradford is concerned.”

  “That figures. Whose body was found?”

  “My attacker was found with his throat split. Apparently someone who knew
where he was had come back and finished him off.”

  “When did they find the body?” Cannon asked.

  “Within the past hour. My partner had just arrived at the crime scene to verify the ID of the victim. The maintenance manager called 911 when he spotted what looked like blood that had spilled out from under the door. The officers who responded to his 911 call recognized Clive from the APB bulletin put out on him shortly before that.”

  “Would that by any chance be Clive Austin?” Travis asked.

  “Yes. Have you ever heard of him?”

  “More than just heard of him. I have a warrant out for his arrest. He’s the primary suspect in an armed robbery of a convenience store last month that left a teenage customer badly wounded and a young clerk dead. If you’ve got a minute, Brit, we need to talk, detective to detective.”

  “Guess that’s my signal to get lost,” Cannon said.

  “That’s up to Brit,” Travis said. “Your being here doesn’t bother me. We’re hanging out at a corral with family, not in a court of law. Besides, the way I see it, you’re already involved or you wouldn’t have been in that cemetery getting your life threatened last night.”

  “You’ve got a point,” Brit said, “though my immediate supervisor doesn’t seem to see it that way.”

  “Works by the book, huh?”

  “Most of the time.”

  “Your call, then, but I doubt you’re going to tell me anything that Cannon doesn’t already know.”

  “Right again,” Brit agreed.

  Travis hooked his heels behind the lowest slat in the wooden fence and propped his backside on the top slat. “So fill me in on the pertinent details of your case.”

  Cannon propped himself on the top slat, as well. Brit stood between them, rehashing everything that had happened since the attack on her life two days ago.

  “Did Clive Austin have any reason to hold a personal grudge against your sister?” Travis asked.

  “Not that I know of. I’m sure that’s being looked into.”

  “What about a grudge against your father?”

  “Marcus Garner— Again, not that I know of.”

  “So you’re the daughter of Marcus Garner,” Travis said. “I’ve heard of him though never actually met him. He was well-respected in the business.”

  “And a great man.”

  “Seems odd that Clive referenced your being like your father if he’d never had dealings with him.”

  “Dad did a lot to clean up crime in the inner city. That earned him lots of enemies in the criminal population.”

  “According to Cannon, Melanie Crouch just got out of jail for paying someone to murder her husband,” Travis said.

  “Yes, Richard Crouch, a very prominent Houston surgeon before he was killed.”

  “I remember the case,” Travis said. “Dr. Crouch was a sleaze.”

  “Yes, but few people knew that until the trial brought out all his dirty secrets.”

  “Was the doctor a friend of your father?” Cannon asked, still trying to make sense of this.

  “They’d met. I don’t know that they were friends.”

  “That connection could be worth looking into,” Travis said. “Did your dad have a longtime good friend, someone he spent a lot of time with? Someone who might know things about him no one else did?”

  “Aidan McIntosh. They were in college together and joined the police force about the same time. They were partners for most of the time Dad was in Homicide. He was the best man at my parents’ wedding. Their son, Matt, even took me to the senior prom after I broke up with my boyfriend the day before. Of course, we had no idea then that Aidan and Louise’s son was already dealing crack cocaine.”

  “Where is Matt McIntosh now?” Cannon asked.

  “In prison for killing two completely innocent people in a drive-by execution. The worst part of all was that Aidan had tried to cover for him before that. But once his son committed murder, he realized he couldn’t protect him any longer. He agreed to testify against his son and turn himself in, but only to my father. I think the worst day of Dad’s life was when he had to arrest his best friend.”

  “Is Aidan still in prison?” Travis asked.

  “No, he was released four years ago, a year before my father was murdered. He and his wife live in Plano now. He works as a night security manager for one of the shopping malls.”

  “Might be a good idea to pay him a visit,” Travis suggested.”

  Brit shook her head. “Aidan had nothing to do with the attack on me. I’d stake my life on that.”

  “But in case Melanie isn’t the culprit, Aidan might have insight into who may have paid Clive to do it, especially if the attack on you was connected to your father.”

  “It’s not far to Plano,” Cannon said. “We could drive up there this afternoon after you finish questioning Melanie.”

  “If you do, get back here early,” Travis cautioned. “A little ice on the road in Dallas and fender benders pop up at every intersection.”

  “We won’t be coming back to the ranch tonight,” Brit said. “If I’d been thinking clearly, I wouldn’t have stayed last night. I will not bring danger onto the Dry Gulch Ranch and I’m afraid my being here is doing just that.”

  The decision surprised Cannon. She downplayed danger to herself so well that he’d feared she wasn’t taking it seriously. He should have known better. Determined enough to do what it took solve the case. Brave enough she’d do whatever it took to bring a killer down—unless the killer got her first.

  He had no intention of letting that happen.

  “I guess the good news is that if Melanie is the person who paid Clive Austin to kill me and Sylvie, she was most likely taken to jail before she could find someone else to take over for him.”

  “But we have no proof that Melanie hired him, so your life is still very much in danger,” Travis cautioned. “What I can’t make sense of is how Melanie would know that Sylvie was your sister when you didn’t even know it.”

  “Maybe she didn’t know,” Cannon suggested. “At least not when Sylvie was still alive. You and Sylvie looked so much alike that Clive could have killed her believing she was you.”

  “She was in the vicinity of my office when she was killed,” Brit said. “And near the coffee shop that I frequent every morning.”

  “If that’s the case, Melanie Crouch makes a strong suspect,” Travis said.

  “It gives me a new angle to look at,” Brit said. “I have to go back to the house now. Sheriff Garcia should be back to pick me up any minute and I want to say goodbye to Kimmie before I go into Oak Grove with him.”

  “You know you don’t have to stay away tonight,” Travis said. “The Daltons stick together. And we easily have enough men and wranglers to protect you.”

  “I can protect myself, but I refuse to put others at risk.”

  “Then take this.” Travis reached into his pocket and pulled out a key ring. He slipped one small silver key from the ring and handed it to Cannon. “This is to my condo in Dallas. I keep it for the nights I can’t make it home at all. Gives me a place to grab a shower and a nap.”

  Travis took a card and pen from his pocket, scribbled down an address and handed that to Cannon, as well. “Call if you need anything, and, Brit, keep me posted. I want to hear how that chat with Melanie Crouch comes out.”

  They said their goodbyes. Travis lingered at the corral. Cannon took Brit’s hand as they walked back to the ranch house together. His need for her was as much about making sure she stayed alive as it was about the physical side of things.

  Still, how in the world would he spend the night alone with her in Travis’s town house without sleeping with her?

  The answer was simple. He couldn’t without going nuts.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Fury raged inside her, all but crippling her ability to think clearly. Everything had been planned down to the most insignificant detail. There was no reason for anything to go wrong.

&
nbsp; And yet it had.

  Clive Austin was dead. Brit Garner was alive.

  But not for long.

  That wouldn’t give her back the joy and anticipation she’d enjoyed once, but it would make life bearable. Perhaps she’d even be able to sleep again without the terrifying nightmares.

  At one time all her life had stretched out in front of her like a field of wildflowers ready to burst into bloom. She had been young and pretty and excited about life.

  And then life had crashed down on her, wave after wave of fear and insufferable heartache.

  The only thing she had to hold on to was revenge. It burned inside her, gave her a reason to live.

  That’s why Brit had to die.

  Clive Austin had screwed up the perfect plan, but that was only a detour. The perfect ending was coming.

  The plans were in motion even now. And this time nothing could stop them—not Cannon Dalton, not the Houston Police Department and not Detective Brit Garner.

  She might spend the rest of her life in prison, but what did it matter? Her life was devastated beyond salvation. Everything that mattered to her was lost.

  Someone had to pay for destruction like that.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Brit felt Melanie’s fury the second she stepped into the small interrogation room. The anger hung thick in the air and seemed to drip from the glaring ceiling light above the table that separated them like a tangible entity.

  But the woman sitting across the table from Brit was not the ghostly, barefoot nymph who’d haunted the cemetery last night. Today her hair was neatly brushed and she looked totally in control.

  Garcia had decided to watch the meeting from behind the one-way glass—nearby in case Melanie became violent, yet out of sight as Brit had requested.

  Brit had her own way of questioning, a blend of what she’d learned from her father and her own experience. Some detectives pushed and shoved and browbeat a suspect down until they cracked under pressure.

  Brit couldn’t have pulled that off if she’d wanted to. She fit more into the good-cop mold. She let her suspects talk freely, pretended to identify with their plight.

  Feeling they were winning, the guilty tended to hammer their own points home, defend even the most indefensible behaviors, justify until they ended up providing the very information that would lead to conviction.