Carbon Copy Cowboy (Texas Twins Book 3)

by Arlene James

  That someone could be her.

  “Because when he realizes he can’t get to you, I’m afraid of what he’ll do.” Sam paused in front of her.

  “I’ve got a backup to my computer files.”

  “Where?”

  “At home. On a flash drive. Actually I have several. I can’t lose my information and notes.” She glanced toward her office door. “I’d rather have gone through my files. They are a little more extensive. I’m a paper and pencil kind of gal.”

  “After we give our statement to the police, we’ll go get the flash drive. I have a laptop at my apartment. We can use that to pull up the information you need.”

  He kept saying “we.” Each time warmth suffused her. She could get used to being his partner.

  * * *

  The next afternoon, Sam turned onto the street he’d been looking for. “Not the best part of town.” He shot a glance at Jocelyn in the front passenger seat of his gray sedan. “I wish one of the other three suspects had been our man.”

  “Maybe this last one.”

  “Are you sure about that third guy? He didn’t have an alibi and the vibes coming off him indicated he wouldn’t be joining your fan club.”

  “He didn’t smell right, and he wasn’t big enough. Too thin.”

  “Okay, then hopefully this man is the one.”

  “If he isn’t, then what next?” Jocelyn shifted to face him better. “We’re at the end of our list.”

  “We have two others, Ned Pickens and Carl Mason. I’m still tracking down their whereabouts. And they look good as suspects. Being the main reason for a person going to prison can definitely cause someone not to like you.” Sam pulled up to the curb in front of the white clapboard house that sorely needed a new coat of paint.

  “I can remember when they led Ned Pickens from the courtroom. He stared right at me and mouthed something I couldn’t hear. But if his look was any indication, I’m glad I didn’t hear him.” Jocelyn rubbed her hands up and down her arms. “I can’t believe he got out of jail so quickly.”

  “Yeah, the warden told me this morning his time was reduced for good behavior.” He wanted so badly to rid her of her fears. The only way he could see to do that was to catch her assailant.

  “Tell that to his daughter and wife. He was one mean guy, and he fits the physique of my attacker.”

  Sam switched off the engine. “How about Carl Mason? He’s been out a little longer than Pickens, but that doesn’t mean he couldn’t be responsible for your attack.”

  “Maybe. I suppose we can’t rule out anyone, but he wouldn’t be on the top of my suspect list.”

  Sam climbed from his car and faced her over its top. “What’s your assessment of this one?”

  Gesturing toward the run-down place behind her, she said, “To tell you the truth, I don’t remember as much about Keith Dubois as Ned or even Carl, but frankly he should be in prison, too. His wife wouldn’t testify against him. I tried to get her to. She just wanted the whole thing over with once she discovered the extent of his abuse toward his daughter.”

  “Why won’t wives put the husbands away when they deserve it?” Sam came around the back of his car and headed with Jocelyn toward the house.

  “It took all her courage to seek help for Emma, then leave him. Keith had abused his wife for years. She drew the line when he started in on his daughter.” She scanned the unkempt yard and saw a beer can had been tossed in the high grass near the street. “He’s certainly living a different lifestyle. He used to have a three-bedroom bungalow in a nice neighborhood.”

  “Crime doesn’t pay,” he quipped.

  “I wish that were true.”

  “So do I.” Sam mounted the steps and knocked on the door.

  At the sound of savage barking coming from inside the house, he yanked back and drew his gun.

  Chapter Five

  By the thudding noise vibrating the door, Jocelyn could tell the dog was throwing himself against it.

  Sam sidestepped to the window nearby and looked in. “A pit bull, and I’d say he isn’t too happy to have guests.”

  “Any sign of Mr. Dubois?”

  Suddenly the black-and-brown animal attacked the window, snarling, probably waking up anyone within a mile radius. “Let’s go.” She backed away. She liked dogs, but this one was proclaiming to the world that it wanted to take a chunk out of them.

  “Get in the car and lock the door. I’m checking around back.”

  “Be careful,” Jocelyn said as she started toward Sam’s sedan.

  At the side of the house, Sam began to climb the chain-link fence, then suddenly he dropped back to the ground at the same time the pit bull charged toward him. He quickly made his way to his vehicle, never taking his eyes off the dog.

  He clambered into the front, taking a deep breath. “There must be a doggie door.”

  “As far as security goes, this is very effective. It fits Mr. Dubois.”

  “Yeah. I did notice his car isn’t around. I thought it might be parked in the alley behind the place. All I saw was more tall weeds and grass.” He turned the key in the ignition. “We’ll come back later.”

  “Maybe we won’t have to.” She didn’t relish another encounter with the pit bull.

  “That’s what I’m hoping. I’ve got a feeling about Ned Pickens.”

  Jocelyn laid her head back on the cushion. The day was catching up with her. Closing her eyes, she found herself drifting into a black void....

  Sam brushed a lock of her hair away from her face. Dark circles spoke of the sleepless night she’d told him about. He had no business getting involved with her. His life was his job, but there was something about Jocelyn that made him think a relationship could work between them.

  * * *

  “Where are Terri and Adam?” Sam demanded the next morning while standing in the couple’s foyer.

  “Adam went in to work, and Terri got called to cover an officer.” Jocelyn grabbed her purse on the table.

  “They left you alone!”

  “You were ten minutes away. I assured Terri I could handle ten minutes by myself.”

  “Remember what that maniac did to your office.”

  “That’s a low blow.”

  “Apparently that’s what it takes to get you to act like someone is trying to kill you and take all the precautions needed.”

  Jocelyn tightened her mouth, pressing her lips together. He was concerned for her. “I’ll keep your advice in mind. Let’s go.”

  “Carl Mason is working in Chicago so he isn’t our man, but Ned Pickens is looking real good as the perp. I’ve looked at info on Pickens, and I could easily see him coming after you, so we’re going to pay him a visit.”

  “Great. I would love my life back.”

  Jocelyn marched out the door, heading for Sam’s car, parked behind hers. Something on her windshield caught her attention. She changed directions.

  A photo? Her approach slowed as she noticed the picture was of her.

  “Don’t touch it.” Sam skirted around her and carefully extracted the photograph from under the wiper.

  She peeped at the picture and tensed. In it she was next to Sam, coming out of her office building, and it was dark. “That’s me last night!”

  He had been there! Watching!

  Chapter Six

  “He could have shot me.” Jocelyn covered her mouth with her hand as the implication of the “gift” sank in.

  “He’s toying with you. He wants you to squirm. That’s part of his revenge. He wants to kill you up close and personal. And that just ain’t gonna happen.”

  Barely holding the picture in one corner, Sam stormed to his car’s trunk and popped it. He rummaged in a bag he kept there and found a plastic bag big enoug
h for the photo, then slid it inside. “I’ll pass this on to Adam. There may be some forensic evidence on it. The guy’s getting bold. He may make a mistake.”

  Jocelyn observed Sam through a haze. His words fell on her ears, but their meaning didn’t stay long in her mind. All she could do was visualize her assailant slinking up to her Thunderbird and placing his little prize. Yards from where she was.

  Suddenly a thought struck her and she spun about, checking out the area. “He could be watching right now.” Hysteria rose in her voice, and she couldn’t keep it tamped down. Her body shook. “I can’t stay here any longer.”

  Sam jerked up from securing the evidence in his trunk. Casing his surroundings, he closed the distance between them and took her into his embrace. He pressed her to him, his arms wrapping her in a protective shield.

  “I won’t let anything happen to you. That’s a promise. I’m not leaving your side until this thing is over. I’ll move you tonight to a safe house and make sure he doesn’t know where you’re going.”

  Finally Sam’s words sank in. Not leaving your side. Safe. The panic eased back some as she nestled in his warmth, drawing strength from him.

  “Do you remember the twenty-third Psalm?” he murmured in her ear.

  She nodded. It was one of her favorites. Verses from it popped into her mind and bathed her in a peace. I will fear no evil; for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.

  “Keep that psalm close to your heart.”

  A few minutes later, still feeling calm, she leaned back and looked into Sam’s eyes. “Thank you for being here.”

  His fingertip brushed across her cheek and hooked some strands of her hair behind her ear. “You’re welcome.” He swallowed several times, the softness in his eyes evolving into a hardness. “Now let’s go see Pickens and hopefully end this.”

  He escorted her to the passenger side and opened the door. She felt pampered, cherished in that moment and tried not to think about her growing feelings toward Sam. Her life wasn’t her own until this man was caught.

  But on the way to Ned Pickens’s place, it was hard not to remember all the support and feeling of security Sam had given her throughout this ordeal.

  “I want you to stay in the car with the doors locked. He has quite a record of violence.” Sam cut the engine in front of Pickens’s house. “If there’s any trouble, call for backup.”

  Recalling the glare the man had given her in the courtroom, Jocelyn wasn’t going to argue with Sam. “Be careful.”

  “He isn’t going to get the drop on me again. Once is enough.”

  “Good. I’d hate to have to come to your rescue.” She offered him a faint smile.

  He chuckled. “Yeah, I only do one damsel-in-distress rescue a year.”

  On the walk to the porch Sam transformed himself into alert mode, purposefully keeping his gaze trained forward. If he focused at all on Jocelyn, he’d get distracted. He couldn’t afford to do that.

  When he rang the bell, Pickens didn’t come to answer for a good three minutes. After scanning the area, he pushed the button again. Seconds later the door swung open to reveal a large man, perhaps twenty pounds heavier and an inch or two taller than Sam himself.

  “I need to talk to you.” Sam showed Pickens his FBI badge, then pocketed it, never taking his eyes off the hulking man.

  Not once did panic or any emotion except curiosity pass over Pickens’s craggy features. “I’m moving up in this world. Now I have the FBI knocking on my door. What ya want?”

  “Where were you Friday night from midnight to two in the morning?”

  A smile slithered across his face. “Enjoying myself at Kelly’s Bar and Grill in the Quarter with about a hundred witnesses. Why ya askin’?”

  “Any that will remember you were there?”

  “The owner, Kelly. The bartender and several of the regulars you’ll find there every night. I’m a regular. I was before I went to prison, and I am now.” He kneaded the back of his neck. “Oh, and a cop came in around one and harassed me about my car being parked in the wrong place. He made me move it and gave me a ticket. I have it if you want to see it.”

  “Get it.”

  Pickens left the door wide open while he went and retrieved the ticket. When the man returned, he thrust it into Sam’s hand. “See. There ain’t any handicapped people at the bar. Why should they always git prime parking spaces?”

  Sam gave back the piece of paper. He wasn’t surprised by his attitude. This man reeked lowlife, but it didn’t look like he was the one after Jocelyn. Just to make sure he’d talk with the police officer, though.

  Pickens narrowed his gaze. “Now I’ve been a good little boy and answered your question. Answer mine. Why all the questions?”

  “I’m here concerning an incident with Dr. Jocelyn Gold.” Sam studied the man’s reaction to her name being said.

  The ex-con muttered a word that Sam was glad Jocelyn couldn’t hear. “I hope she got what was comin’ to her.” He looked expectantly at Sam as though he would elaborate on what the incident was.

  He wasn’t going to fulfill Pickens’s wish. Sam stepped back, intending to leave.

  “She deserves anything bad that happens to her. She should mind her own business.” Hatred imbued each word.

  Moving forward so fast that the man’s eyes widened, Sam grabbed a fistful of Pickens’s T-shirt and said in a seething tone, “If you come near her, you’ll have me to deal with. Those guys in prison were nothing compared to me. Don’t mess with me.” He yanked his hand away and pivoted.

  At his car, when Sam slipped in behind the steering wheel, he peered into Jocelyn’s worried, anxious face and said, “He isn’t the one.”

  “What happened on the porch? I’d started to call for backup.”

  “I objected to something he said.”

  “About me?”

  Sam nodded and revved the engine.

  “I wanted him to be the one so much.” Dashed hopes sounded in her voice.

  When Sam pulled away from the curb and glanced toward Jocelyn, her expression twisted his heart. Despair was evident on her face. The urge to stop his car and draw her into his arms inundated him. He gripped the steering wheel tighter.

  “So where does that leave us?”

  In a world of hurt, he wanted to say, but wouldn’t. “We still have that last suspect who wasn’t home. We’ll go see him, then go back to Terri’s. You’ll need to pack. I’ll need to make a couple of calls.” At a stop sign he angled toward her and captured her gaze. “We’ll come up with a plan. We know the guy has a daughter whom you treated—”

  “Well, he didn’t exactly say she was my patient. I suppose I could have been involved with her some other way.”

  “How?”

  “I volunteer at a youth center once a month.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

  “Like you, I assumed she was one of my patients.”

  Sam shot across the intersection. “At least it gives us another direction to go. Let’s pay Keith Dubois a call then rethink everything.”

  Twenty minutes later Sam parked in front of the seedy house in the bad neighborhood again. An old Ford sat in the driveway.

  “Looks like he might be home.” Sam climbed from his car.

  As he put his foot on the first step up to the porch, a child’s scream pierced the air. He pulled his gun from its holster at the same time he rushed toward the partially opened window near the front door. Bending down so he could sneak a look inside, he gave Jocelyn a sign to halt.

  Inside, a young girl sobbed, trying to back away from an angry Dubois. “I told you that you can’t call your mother. Ever!”

  With tears streaming down her face, the seven-year-old said, “I’m sorry, Daddy. I’ll be good from now on.
”

  “Yeah, you’re gonna remember because you aren’t gonna forget this.” The huge man leaped toward his daughter and grabbed her.

  Jocelyn suddenly appeared behind Sam and whispered against his ear, “The court ordered only supervised visits for him. Emma’s mother would never allow this. He’s taken her without permission. He’s going to hurt her. He’s put her in the hospital before.”

  “Daddy, please don’t.”

  Dubois gripped his daughter’s neck and began choking her. Fury propelled Sam toward the door. He tried the handle. Locked.

  Stepping back, he lifted his leg and struck the wood with all his strength. The door burst open and he rushed inside, gun aimed at the man.

  “FBI. Let her go now.”

  Dubois peered toward Sam, loosening his hands about Emma’s neck but not letting go completely. The little girl gasped in air then began coughing.

  “Quiet.” Dubois shook the child.

  “I said let her go. I won’t tell you again.”

  His bloodshot eyes narrowed on Sam. “This isn’t your business. Get out unless you want me to hit you again.” With his daughter as a shield, the man sidled to the left a few paces and opened the door. “Ozzie,” Dubois called, his face red with rage.

  A growl reverberated through the room. “Stay,” Dubois ordered Ozzie, then turned to Sam. “If you don’t leave, I’ll give him the command to attack.”

  Sam slid a few steps toward the right in order to keep an eye on both Dubois and his pit bull. It stood in a doorway next to its owner, its teeth bared, fierce eyes locked on its prey—Sam.

  “You think that dog can outrun a bullet? I have no problem shooting it if you force me to.” He aimed the gun at the beast.

  Dubois released his daughter, sticking his hand in his pocket.

  “Emma, come here,” Sam said in a gentle voice, his gaze never straying from her father.

  She didn’t move. Sam quickly glanced at the child. Her large, round eyes were fixed upon the pit bull, fear in their depths.