Grayson

by Delores Fossen

  “You okay?” Dade called out. His brother had dropped to the ground, too, but was crawling toward Grayson.

  “Yeah. I’m just fine and dandy,” Grayson barked. “You see him?”

  Dade didn’t answer right away, giving Grayson some hope, but that hope went south when his brother finally said, “No.”

  Grayson lifted his head and examined the woods. Since it was the dead of winter, a lot of the foliage was gone, but that didn’t mean there weren’t plenty of places to hide.

  And then Grayson heard something he didn’t want to hear.

  The sound of water.

  Hell. This guy was in the creek, and that meant he was getting away.

  Dade apparently heard it, too, because he cursed and got to his feet. So did Grayson, and they started to run toward the sound of that splashing. Of course, the splashing was long gone before they arrived on the creek bank.

  And there was no sign of the gunman.

  Dade and Grayson stood there, looking hard, but there was no way to tell which direction he went. If the guy was smart, he could have just floated downstream and out of sight. Of course, he could have scrambled over the outcropping of rocks on the other side of the creek bed and then disappeared into the dense woods.

  “We need a tracking dog,” Dade mumbled.

  Yeah. And they needed their brother, Mason, out here on horseback. Mason was a better tracker than any dog or any of the local Texas Rangers, but Grayson intended to ask for their help, too. He wanted this gunman caught now, and he would use any resource available.

  “I got a good look at his face,” Grayson let Dade know. “If he’s in the system, I think I can pick out his photo.”

  Though that would take time. Maybe lots of time. Something Grayson wasn’t sure he had.

  This guy would be back.

  The question was why? Grayson was sure if he could figure that out, then he would have a better chance of identifying him and stopping another attack.

  “Why don’t you get Eve away from here? She’s pretty shaken up,” Dade suggested. He took out his cell phone. “I’ll start making calls.”

  Grayson started to say no, that he wanted to stay. If they got lucky with the search, he wanted to be the one to put the cuffs on this piece of slime, but Dade was right. Eve didn’t need to be here. Neither did he. His brothers could handle it and handle it well. So he turned and headed back toward Eve and her car.

  He spotted her the moment he came out of the thick cluster of trees. She was out of the wrecked car, talking to Dusty Bullock, the fire chief. She looked calm enough, but Grayson knew that underneath her nerves had to be raw since to the best of his knowledge this was the first time she’d experienced anyone trying to kill her.

  And there was no doubt that the killing attempt had been aimed at Eve.

  When she saw Grayson, Eve ran toward him, but he quickly closed the distance between them because he didn’t want her out in the open.

  “Did you catch him?” she asked.

  Grayson shook his head and watched her expression go from shock to fear. Yeah. She understood how important it was for them to find this gunman today.

  Since she looked ready to launch herself into his arms, or cry, he took his gun from her, reholstered it and handed Eve her handgun. She slipped it into her coat pocket. And Grayson caught on to her shoulder so he could lead her in the direction of his truck.

  “I need to get you back to my office,” he grumbled. Grayson hated the gruffness in his voice. Hated even more that he couldn’t comfort her at a time when she needed comforting, but after the conversation they’d had in the cottage, it was best if he kept his distance.

  “But what about the gunman?” she challenged. “He’s still out there.”

  “Dade’s looking for him, and we’ll bring in help.” Grayson stopped next to the fire chief. “Call me the minute you know what caused the explosion in the cottage.”

  “You’re thinking it was foul play?” Dusty asked, his craggy face bunched up with concern.

  “Yeah,” Grayson answered honestly, though he knew that would cause Eve more panic. “I want the brake line on Eve’s car checked, too, because I’m sure someone cut it.”

  “Oh, God,” Eve mumbled.

  He got her moving again, but she stopped first to retrieve her purse and equipment bag from her car. Since she looked ready to fall apart, Grayson decided to use the drive to his office to get her to concentrate on how they could bring this nightmarish day to a good conclusion.

  A conclusion that would end with an arrest.

  “Did you see the gunman’s face?” Grayson asked. He drove away from her cottage, which would soon be taped off and processed as a crime scene.

  “Not really.” When she couldn’t get her seat belt on after two tries, Grayson reached over and helped her. His hand brushed against hers, and he quickly pulled back. With the energy between them already on edge, it was best to avoid touching her. And thinking about touching her.

  Something he didn’t quite accomplish.

  Grayson huffed and continued. “The gunman had brownish-red hair. About six-two. Around a hundred and seventy pounds. Ring any bells?”

  She shook her head. “Should it?”

  “Maybe. I figure you’ve crossed paths with him. Why else would he want to come after you that way?”

  Eve mumbled another “Oh, God,” and plowed her fingers through the sides of her hair. “I don’t recognize him.” She pressed hard against her temples and head. “What could I have done to make him want to kill me?”

  That was the million-dollar question, and Grayson had to explore all possibilities. “An old boyfriend, maybe? Maybe he altered his appearance so that you didn’t easily recognize him?”

  Her hands slipped from her hair and dropped into her lap. She stared at him. “You’re the only boyfriend I have who’s riled at me.”

  “I’m not riled,” Grayson protested.

  She huffed. “You’re riled all right.”

  He huffed, too. “Just because I turned down your offer to make a baby doesn’t mean I’m pissed off.” But when he heard his tone, he realized he was. Grayson cursed. “I just wasn’t expecting you to ask anything like that, okay? You surprised the hell out of me.”

  “Yes, I figured that out. But you can’t blame me for trying. I just thought… Well, I just thought wrong.”

  She was right about that. So, why did Grayson feel so blasted guilty for turning her down? Since that was something he didn’t want to think or talk about, he went back to the investigation. They were still fifteen minutes out from his office, and he wanted to put that time to good use instead of adding to that guilt trip.

  “I heard you were engaged but broke things off,” Grayson tossed out there. “Could your ex be holding a grudge?”

  She mumbled something he didn’t catch. “No. It’s true, I called things off the day of the wedding, but he’s moved on and already married to someone else.”

  Maybe her ex-fiancé had indeed moved on, but Gray son wanted to verify that was true. Love and love-scorned were motives for a lot of crimes.

  And a lot of questions.

  He wanted to ask Eve why she’d waited until her wedding day to end things, but it was none of his business.

  “How about a member of your ex’s family?” he pressed. “Sometimes family members or friends think they need to avenge a broken heart.”

  She sat quietly a moment. And she didn’t deny that broken heart part. “Why wait over a year to get revenge?” She shook her head again. “I was thinking maybe what happened today has to do with the killer. Maybe he was trying to destroy evidence by destroying the cottage?”

  Yes. That was the next theory on Grayson’s list. Perhaps the killer had left some kind of forensic evidence in or near the cottage. That was a solid reason to destroy it.

  “But then why would he want to kill you?” Grayson pressed. He turned off the ranch road and onto the highway that would take him back into town. “Is it pos
sible you know something about the murder?”

  “How could I? I wasn’t in Silver Creek when it happened. I was in San Antonio.”

  “The murder might not have happened in Silver Creek,” he reminded her. “In fact, I suspect it didn’t. I think the body was just dumped there.”

  She gave him a flat look. “Trust me, I would have remembered if I’d witnessed someone being murdered.”

  True. But there had to be a reason this guy was after her. Grayson really needed to get an ID on that body because he couldn’t shake the feeling that the dead woman and this attack were connected.

  “We don’t have an identity on the dead woman, but she was five-six and was in her early twenties.” Grayson hoped that would spur Eve to remember something.

  Eve nodded. “I read that in the paper. Her face and fingerprints had been obliterated.” She paused. “What does that mean exactly?”

  “You don’t want to know.” But Grayson would never forget the sight of what was left of the woman. Someone had literally bashed in her face so that none of her features had been recognizable, and then cut off the pads of her fingertips. He’d also broken off her teeth, probably so that dental records couldn’t be used to identify her. “But the killer didn’t obliterate her hair, and it’s unique. Three colors—red, black and blond. Remember seeing anyone with hair like that?”

  She shrugged. “It’s possible. That type of hair isn’t so rare in a city the size of San Antonio.”

  True. But it was the only thing he had to go on. Now it was time to grasp at a few straws. “When did you start getting hang-up calls?” Grayson pressed.

  “Four days ago,” she answered without hesitation.

  Four days. According to the ME, that was an estimate of when the woman had been killed.

  He was about to continue his questions when Grayson spotted the familiar rust-scabbed red truck barreling down the highway. It was his brother, Mason, responding to the scene. Grayson didn’t slow down. Neither did Mason. They exchanged a glance, and in that split-second glance, Grayson saw exactly what he wanted to see: Mason’s determination to find the man who’d taken shots at Eve and him.

  Sometimes keeping Mason’s intense moods under control was like trying to keep a leash on a rogue bull. But it was that intensity that made Mason a good cop. Mason wasn’t the sort of man Grayson would go to with his personal problems—he wouldn’t get much empathy there—but for everything else Mason was the brother he knew he could rely on the most.

  Grayson stopped in the parking lot of his office and turned to Eve. “I need to get your statement about what just happened and ask you a few more questions about those hang-up calls. Then I can take you to the ranch. You can stay there until we catch this guy.”

  She was already shaking her head before he finished. “I can’t go to your ranch.”

  No. He didn’t have time for this argument. “Look, I know it might be a little uncomfortable for you there, what with Dade and Mason around—”

  “It’s not that. I’m comfortable with your family. Always have been.”

  Grayson couldn’t argue with that. Heck, his brothers had, and probably always would, consider Eve a sister. His youngest brother, Kade, often said that Eve was more like a mother to him than his own mother had been.

  So what was Eve’s issue?

  She stared at him. “I need to get back to San Antonio, and I intend to do that as soon as I can arrange for transportation. Your reports will have to wait. I have to find a place where I can be inseminated today.”

  Grayson was sure he looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. “Eve, someone tried to kill you,” he reminded her, though he was positive she hadn’t forgotten that.

  Her hand was still shaking when she touched her fingers to her lips. She paused a moment, still trembling, and her gaze came back to his. “If I don’t do the insemination today, I’ll never have a baby. And yes, I know there’s a killer out there. And yes, that killer might have been the one to take shots at us today. But I don’t have time to wait for him to be caught.”

  Grayson broke his no-touching rule and caught on to her shoulders. He wanted to make this very clear. But for a moment he lost his train of thought when he saw the nicks and scrapes on her face. From the air bag, no doubt. But even with the superficial damage, Eve was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

  He pushed that thought aside with all the rest of the carnal things that came to mind whenever he looked at Eve. She had, and always would have, his number.

  Grayson met her eye to eye. “The killer could come after you in San Antonio.”

  She blinked, swallowed hard. “So, I’ll hire a bodyguard as soon as I call the rental car company to come and get me. I want to be on the road within the next thirty minutes.”

  He didn’t know whether to curse or try to shake some sense into her. “Eve, is this baby worth your life?”

  Her breath rattled in her throat. Tears sprang to her eyes. “Yes,” she whispered.

  And with that, she grabbed her equipment bag and purse and got out of his truck. The bag went on one shoulder. Her purse on the other.

  Well, he’d asked the question, and even though it hadn’t been the answer he wanted to hear, Grayson knew it was Eve’s final answer. She wasn’t going to budge on this.

  Hell.

  That meant he had to drive back into San Antonio with her. Or else send Dade or Mason. Now Grayson cursed because he sure didn’t have time for this.

  He got out, slammed the truck door with far more force than necessary and followed her into the back entrance of the law enforcement building. It wasn’t a huge place—especially considering how much time he spent there. It had a reception area, four offices, two interrogation rooms and a holding cell on the bottom floor. There was an apartment-style break room on the top floor where there’d once been jail cells before a new facility had been built on the edge of town.

  Grayson stepped inside and heard the day shift dispatcher, Tina Fox, talking from her desk in the reception area. An area roped off with twinkling Christmas lights and a miniature tree that played annoying tinny carols when anyone walked past it. Mason had already kicked it once. Grayson was considering the same. As far as he was concerned, this was a bah-humbug kind of Christmas, and this attempt to kill Eve wasn’t doing much to change his opinion about that.

  Tina looked back at him and waved. From the sound of it, she was getting an update from Dade. Soon Grayson would want that update as well, but first he had to deal with the most hardheaded woman in Texas.

  Ahead of him, Eve made her way to his office while she fished for something in her purse. She finally pulled out her cell phone when she came to a quick stop. Her hand and phone had been moving toward her ear, but that stopped, as well. She stood there frozen, her gaze fixed on something in his office.

  Grayson cursed and hurried to pull her aside because he knew what had shocked her. The crime board in his office had photos of the dead woman. Or rather what was left of her. To put it mildly, they weren’t pretty.

  “Sorry about that,” he mumbled. And he crossed the room to turn the board around so that the gruesome pictures would be facing the wall.

  “Wait!” Eve insisted.

  She walked closer, her attention nailed to the grisliest of the photos. It was a close-up view of the dead woman’s bashed-in face and had been taken several hours after her body had been fished out of the creek.

  “There’s no need for you to see these,” Grayson assured her. When he tried to turn the board again, she caught on to his arm to stop them.

  She moved even closer, until her face was just inches from the photo. Eve mumbled something and then dropped her equipment bag onto his desk. Frantically, she began to rummage through it, pulling out the pictures that Grayson had seen earlier on the counter at the cottage.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “I’ve seen her before.” Her voice was all breath now. “Well, I’ve seen that hair anyway.”

&nb
sp; Grayson glanced back at the dead woman’s hair, though the image was already embedded into his mind. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to forget it. But the hair was certainly distinctive. Three colors. Red, blond, black, and the black was only on the ends of her choppily cut hair.

  Eve continued to pull photos from her bag, glancing at each and then tossing them aside on the tops of folders and reports that Grayson had spread out on his desk. She plucked another from the bag and froze again.

  Grayson looked at the shot from over her shoulder. He recognized the location—it had been taken at the indoor rodeo arena in San Antonio. There were at least a dozen people standing at the railings, their eyes fixed on the bull rider who had just been tossed into the air.

  Then he saw the woman.

  And her hair.

  “When did you take this?” Grayson couldn’t ask the question fast enough. He grabbed the picture from her so he could study it.

  “Four days ago at the fundraiser rodeo. I had these printed because I wanted to take a better look at them to see which to include in the story. But I didn’t use this one.” She paused. “It’s her, isn’t it?”

  Grayson paused too, but not because he wasn’t sure.

  He was.

  The image of the dead woman stared back at him.

  Chapter Six

  Eve hadn’t realized she was holding her breath until her lungs began to ache. “Is that the murdered woman?” she asked Grayson.

  “Yeah,” he finally said, his attention still glued to that photo. “Any idea who she is?”

  “No, I took dozens of random shots that day. She was just someone in the crowd.”

  “Yes. But if the medical examiner is right, this is also the day she was murdered.” He tipped his head to her bag. “I need to look at all the pictures.”

  She gave a shaky nod, and while she was doing that, Grayson peeled off his jacket and tossed it over the back of his chair. Then he put the photo on his fax machine. “I’m sending it to the Ranger crime lab in Austin with a request for immediate processing.”