by SUE FINEMAN
Dave missed Mia so much it was like he’d lost a part of himself. He wanted her there with him, but he knew she needed to spend time with her family. They spoke on the phone nearly every day, but they didn’t talk about the future. He knew her well enough to know what she wanted, and he wanted the same things for himself—love and marriage, children, and a lifetime commitment.
Without telling Mia, Dave applied for teaching positions all over Texas. With a masters degree in law enforcement and years of experience in the FBI, he was qualified to teach on the college level, but it might be a long wait before any of them had an opening. It wouldn’t be the same as being in the field, solving crimes and catching the bad guys himself, but it seemed like something he’d enjoy doing.
With his work finished in Denver and the going-away party over, Dave packed his car and began the drive to Texas. He wanted to spend Christmas with the woman he loved.
<>
Mia spent a lot of time at Bo and Callie’s ranch. She worked in the barn, learned to ride a horse, and joined Bo in the pool, swimming laps in the stillness of early morning. The hard physical work made her stronger, and after two weeks on a horse, she rode as if she’d been doing it her whole life.
She spoke to Dave often, but she wanted to be with him, not just hear his voice on the phone. He said he’d come soon, but she didn’t know if he’d stay. If he asked her to go to the other side of the world with him, she’d go. She’d miss her family, but she’d go. Because she loved him.
Every time she looked at Bo’s pregnant wife or his two great kids or Greg’s beautiful baby boy, she had to fight to hold back tears. She wanted a husband and family of her own to love. Sometimes she thought Dave wanted the same thing, but he’d never spoken of marriage.
Mia watched Bo and Greg with their heads together at the ranch. They were up to something, but she’d learned long ago not to ask, especially around Christmas. At first she thought they might sneak Dave in for Christmas, but she knew better. Greg didn’t want her with Dave. He’d made himself quite clear on that subject.
While wrapping presents with Mom one afternoon, the phone rang. “It’s Dave,” said Mom, handing Mia the phone. He hadn’t called in two days.
“Dave, I thought you’d forgotten me or found another tall blonde.”
“Never. What are you doing?”
“Wrapping your Christmas present, but if you’re not going to be here, I’ll have to give it to Santa to deliver.”
“Okay. He’s outside.”
“He’s what?”
“Go look.” He disconnected, leaving her standing in the kitchen holding a dead phone.
She hung up and walked to the living room window to look outside. A horse-drawn wagon decorated like a sleigh stood in the street. She recognized the horses from Bo’s ranch. Christmas music filled the air. The man dressed in a Santa suit driving the wagon looked like … “Oh, my God! It can’t be him. He didn’t say... Oh, my God!”
Mia grabbed her coat and ran outside to see kids running down the street toward the wagon. Dave’s deep voice boomed out in a “Ho, ho, ho.” He reached down for her hand and pulled her up to the seat beside him. One big hug and kiss, and a whispered, “I love you,” and tears filled her eyes. She thought she’d have to spend Christmas without him.
Two men in Santa hats, her brothers Bo and Greg, walked behind the wagon handing out toys and candy to all the neighborhood kids. Mom came out with a Santa hat of her own and handed another one to Mia. Bo and Greg lifted Mom to the back of the wagon, and they started down the street, handing out toys and candy to the kids.
Mothers came outside with their babies, and Greg handed them stuffed toys. Mia glanced at the stack of toys and goodies in the back of the wagon. “Did you guys buy out the toy store?”
“My parents sent money for the toys,” said Dave. “They sold the house and bought a big motor home. They’ll be here tomorrow.” He kissed her. “Isn’t this what Christmas is all about?”
She leaned in for another kiss. “Christmas is about love, and I love you so much my heart is overflowing. Are you going to ask me to marry you, or do I have to do it?”
His mouth dropped open in feigned shock. “You’d propose to an unemployed hotshot wearing a Santa suit?”
“Absolutely.”
“Then have at it, honey, because one way or another, we’re going to grow old together. We’ll have a dozen kids, give or take, and love each other forever.” He pulled a ring from his pocket. Slipping it on her finger, he said, “I promise to be a faithful, loving husband. This ring belonged to my grandmother, but if you don’t like it—”
She gazed at the most exquisite ring she’d ever seen. “I love it, and I love you, David Montgomery.” After a long, slow kiss, she said, “What about Greg?”
“He offered to be the best man. Bo said he’d be the maid of honor, but only if he didn’t have to wear a dress. Says his legs are too hairy.” Dave chuckled. “Ya gotta love those guys.”
Someone handed Dave a baby and he kissed the baby’s cheek. Mia muttered, “If you ran for mayor right now, you’d win in a landslide.”
Every kid in town and half the adults wore smiles that day, and Bo’s wagon held enough toys for every one of the kids. They stopped in the town square to pick up Bo’s wife and kids and Greg’s wife and baby. Strong hands lifted them onto the pillows in the back of the wagon.
Mia looked at their smiling faces and knew this Christmas would be the best ever.
Because she had the man she loved.
Forever.
** Thank you for reading On the Hunt. Please turn the page for an excerpt of Book Four in the Gregory Series, On the Edge **
ON THE EDGE
by
Sue Fineman
CHAPTER ONE
Baylee Patterson tucked a lock of blond hair behind her ear and eased closer to the yellow crime scene tape, hoping to see or hear something to flesh out her story. The early edition of the newspaper had already gone out, and her editor had bumped another story to make room on the front page of the later edition. Her first byline on the front page. She should be happy about that, and she would be, if not for the subject matter.
Melissa Blackburn, the brave woman who’d testified against her husband after the last brutal beating, was a victim again. This time, Black Jack Blackburn had beaten her to death. Baylee felt sick just thinking about how much Melissa had suffered as the life seeped out of her battered body.
Detective McBride walked over, popping a lemon drop in his mouth on the way. She’d seen him do that on other crime scenes. Something to keep the nausea at bay.
“Baylee, we need to talk.”
She turned on her little recorder. “On the record or off?”
“Off.” He took the recorder from her hand and flipped it off before handing it back.
A gust of wind whipped her hair around her head. Another storm blowing in from the coast. As if these homicide detectives needed rain to contaminate the crime scene.
McBride glanced up at the dark clouds blowing in. “Shit,” he said under his breath.
He looked back at Baylee. “I’m only going to say this once, so listen up. Jack Blackburn told his cellmate he had eight people on his list. Number one was his wife. Numbers two and three were his wife’s divorce attorney and the attorney’s ex-wife.”
“Chance and Emma Gregory.” And he’d already killed Emma. “Who else?”
McBride looked her in the eye. “Number four is the reporter who stirred up public sentiment against him.”
Oh, God! Baylee sucked in a deep breath. “That would be me.”
He nodded. “That would be you.”
She wanted to go home and hide under the bed, but the reporter in her needed more information. “Who are the others?”
“The officers who arrested him, the prosecuting attorney who convinced a jury to convict him, and the judge who sentenced him.”
Melissa Blackburn wasn’t the first woman Black Jack had beaten, and B
aylee suspected Emma Gregory wasn’t the first person he’d killed. She shivered and rubbed her arms, cold from more than the chilly early morning temperature.
McBride glanced down the street. Baylee followed his gaze and saw Chance Gregory walking toward them. He looked handsome and composed in black slacks, a dark red sweater, and a black leather jacket. She knew this death had hit him hard. Everyone who’d known Melissa had liked her, and this had to remind him of Emma’s murder.
“I told him to get the hell out of town,” McBride muttered. He turned back to her. “I’m telling you the same thing, Baylee. Get the hell out of town, and stay gone until we pull in Blackburn.”
“I can’t go anywhere now.”
Chance walked up. “Neither can I.”
McBride stormed back toward the crime scene, muttering, “Damn civilians are going to get themselves killed.”
Baylee stared into Chance’s dark chocolate eyes. They’d had a little fling after his divorce became final, a one-night stand. He’d promised to call, but that was over two years ago.
“What was that about?” Chance asked her.
“Apparently you and I are on Black Jack’s list.”
“He comes near me and I’ll shoot him.” He sounded bitter, and she couldn’t blame him for feeling that way. Even though he and Emma had divorced, they’d remained friends. The divorce had saddened him, and Emma’s murder had torn his world apart. He had three children who’d lost their mother.
“You can’t watch for him twenty-four/seven, Chance. If Melissa had heard him coming, she would have shot him.”
“I know,” he said on a soft sigh.
She shoved her recorder into her purse and grabbed her car keys from the pocket of her jacket. She had a story to write.
He grabbed her arm. “Baylee, wait.”
She stared at his hand on her arm, and he let go.
Sorrow had etched new lines on his face, and his eyes looked a lifetime older, yet he was still the most appealing man she’d ever known. Aside from a slight slant to his deep brown eyes and an Asian complexion, Chance’s Korean mother hadn’t given him much of herself. Just shy of six feet, he had a strong presence and an intensity that drew the attention of everyone in a courtroom. He kept juries spellbound with his passionate pleas, and he seldom lost a case. As an attorney, Chance Gregory was a star. As a man, she hadn’t quite figured him out.
“Be careful,” he said gently.
His quiet concern left her speechless. All she could do was nod and back away. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he cared about her. But he didn’t. For the past two years, he’d ignored her as if she didn’t exist.
Baylee drove back to the newspaper office and worked on her piece for the next edition of the paper. She’d written a series of articles on domestic violence. After the Tacoma police chief shot his wife and then himself, many reporters wrote about the problem. For them it was a one-time thing. For her it was a lifetime obsession.
Baylee had done interviews with battered women at the shelter, she’d interviewed two women in the Purdy Women’s Prison who’d killed their husbands rather than endure another beating, and she’d done her best to keep the subject alive in the media.
Melissa Blackburn had revealed a lot about herself and her marriage in an interview after her husband was sent to prison. She said Jack had two personalities, and before their marriage, he’d only revealed the nice one. She thought it was a fluke when he came home from work in a rage one day, ripped the lamp out of the wall, and threw it across the living room. But it wasn’t a fluke. He’d often turned that anger on her, verbally blasting her and blaming her for everything that went wrong in his life.
When Melissa had had enough, she asked for a divorce. He hit her then, beat her so badly she passed out. When she came to, she drove herself to the hospital, where a police officer advised her to disappear. But she thought a divorce would end it, and she didn’t want to leave her job. She’d just gotten a big promotion.
The promotion wouldn’t do her any good now.
Baylee poured out her thoughts through her fingers on the computer keyboard and wrote an impassioned plea for the courts to treat domestic violence as they would any other violent crime. A vicious assault against a spouse or former spouse or girlfriend shouldn’t bring a lesser sentence than an assault against a stranger, but too often the courts treated it as a lesser crime. Too often a woman ended up in the hospital, savagely beaten.
Or dead.
Jack Blackburn had glared at his battered wife in the courtroom, threatening without words. Thank God they didn’t have any kids, although Baylee didn’t think having kids would have stopped him from killing their mother. Chance and Emma Gregory had three kids, and that hadn’t stopped him from killing Emma. And it wouldn’t stop him from killing Chance or her or anyone else.
She finished her article, proofed it, and hit the send button. Baylee knew she was fighting a losing battle. Some men systematically beat their wives down, so much so the women were afraid to leave them. They should be afraid. Statistics showed the most dangerous time for a battered woman was when she left her abuser. It was a no-win situation. Stay and live a life of fear and pain, or leave and risk a worse fate.
Jack Blackburn spent five years in prison for nearly killing his wife, and he came out meaner than when he went in. In leaving her abusive husband, in testifying against him in a court of law, Melissa had sent an enraged monster on a killing spree.
Baylee shivered and rubbed her arms.
She could be next.
<>
Chance unlocked his office door and fear skittered along his spine. Someone had not only broken in, they’d smeared blood on the walls and spray-painted GOOK across the window blinds and YOU’RE NEXT on the wall over the copier. The file cabinets had been pried open and the pages of Melissa Blackburn’s file were strewn on the floor, with blood dripped all over them. In the middle of the mess lay a jack of spades. A black jack. Nothing like leaving a calling card.
Without touching anything, Chance used his cell phone to call 911. After he explained what happened, he said, “Send Detective McBride. Tell him this is connected to the Melissa Blackburn murder.”
Baylee Patterson arrived before the police. She must have been listening to the police scanner again. “Chance, what happened?”
“Blackburn was here.”
She leaned in the door and snapped pictures of the office. She’d slipped her digital camera in her pocket before McBride stormed through the outside door of the office building and strode toward the crime scene. Chance thought Baylee would leave, but she hung around, watching and listening to the police activity. After the police determined there were no dead bodies inside the office, she cornered McBride and asked for a statement.
“Give me something, McBride. Anything. The killer has murdered two women and threatened his wife’s attorney. I’m afraid he’s just getting started.”
“You should be afraid, Baylee.” He cocked his head. “Didn’t I tell you to leave town?”
“Did you?”
McBride shook his head as if he couldn’t believe his ears. “Put that in the newspaper. Tell the world I ordered you and Chance Gregory to leave town until we caught the killer. That way when you end up dead, they won’t blame me for not protecting you.”
Baylee’s chin came up. “Did you order the judge and arresting officers and prosecuting attorney to leave town?”
McBride pointed toward the outside door. “Get out of here. Go pack your bags and get the hell out of Tacoma while you still can. I’m running out of body bags.” He dropped his hand and looked over at Chance. “You, too. Keep your eyes open so he doesn’t follow you out of town.”
“I have a job,” said Baylee.
McBride leaned into her face. “Will that matter if you’re dead?”
All the color left Baylee’s face.
“Jacobs,” called McBride.
A young uniformed officer appeared at his side. “Escort Miss
Patterson and Mr. Gregory to their homes, where they will pack their things and leave the city.”
Baylee said, “You can’t make me leave.”
“No, I can’t,” said McBride, “but I don’t want to see you killed, Baylee.” He turned to Chance. “No arguments from you?”
“No, sir.” Chance had a picture of his children sitting on his desk. Seeing that picture with blood smeared on the glass pretty much sealed it for him. He’d never feel safe enough to bring his children back to Tacoma. He’d move to Caledonia, Texas. His family lived there now, and the kids were with his mother. Greg was the sheriff there, Bo had served in the Marines, Mia used to be a cop, and Mia’s husband, Dave Montgomery, spent several years as a special agent in the FBI. The kids couldn’t be in a safer place. “I’m going to Texas. If Baylee wants to come along, that’s fine.”
McBride stared at Baylee. “She’ll go.”
She shook her head. “I can’t work from Texas.”
“Come on, Baylee,” said Chance. “The Tacoma Police Department can’t protect us forever, and nobody wants you to end up like Emma and Melissa.”
“But you don’t want—”
“Don’t tell me what I don’t want,” he snapped.
She stared at him, probably wondering why he cared. But he did care, more than he wanted to admit, even to himself. He’d never forgotten the night they spent together. She was generous with her heart and her body that night. He’d promised to call, but he felt so guilty for using her, he couldn’t face her again. She probably had some great guy in her life by now, but whether she did or not, he wouldn’t fail Baylee like he’d failed Emma. Somehow, he had to keep her away from Jack Blackburn, and he couldn’t keep her safe in Tacoma.
He couldn’t even keep himself safe here.
He’d needed a push to close his law practice, and Blackburn had just given him one. His assistant had recently quit, and his once thriving legal business dropped off after Emma was murdered. People were afraid to get close to him, and he couldn’t blame them.