by Addison Fox
So why had the image struck?
Darby handed over a mug, oblivious to his wayward thoughts. “What would you like in your coffee? I have cream, milk and sugar.”
“Cream would be fine.”
She retrieved the small carton from the fridge and handed it over.
Penny watched her before backing away to take a seat beneath the kitchen table.
“Yep.” Darby nodded as he handed back the carton. “She hates me.”
“She’s just trying to get used to you. Give her some time.”
“I suppose.”
Finn took a sip of his coffee and gestured to the table. “Mind if I take a seat?”
“Sure.”
She fixed her own mug and took a seat opposite him.
“Do you know Michael Hayden?”
“No, I’m afraid I don’t,” Darby said. “But I’ve had several calls this morning telling me something terrible has happened to him.”
“You could say that.”
“Was he murdered like Bo?”
“It appears so.”
She shook her head. “What makes people do such horrible things? I know Bo had his shortcomings, but to hurt him like that? It doesn’t make sense to me.”
Something weird bottomed in his stomach, fluttering beneath the caffeine hit, and Finn had to admit that he wanted to believe her. More than that, the sincerity in her eyes seemed legitimate. He had significant experience reading people—the wacky branches of his family ensured he had to be constantly on his toes—and he’d only further honed that skill with his job in law enforcement.
But the desire to believe her didn’t change the fact that her alibi on record was a bit weak for the night of Bo’s death. Nor did it keep him from having to ask where she was yesterday when Michael Hayden was murdered.
“Murder makes little sense.”
“And here in Red Ridge, of all places. I know people deal with this in large cities. But here?” She shuddered. “It doesn’t seem possible.”
The fact that she still hadn’t tracked to his line of thought was another checkmark in her favor, but none of it changed the point that she was one of the few who’d gained with Bo Gage’s murder. “You’ve benefitted from Bo’s death.”
The distracted blue gaze, focused on the small circles she drew around the lip of her mug, snapped to attention, fire heating their depths. “This again?”
There she was. Defensive. Because she was guilty?
“This house. His business. Penny.” Finn listed them all. “You’re the one who profited by Bo’s death.”
“I was interrogated by your detective after the reading of Bo’s will. I did not kill my ex-husband. But is that what you are suggesting, Chief Colton?”
“I’m just asking questions.”
“No, you’re not.” She settled her mug on the table, her gaze direct when she next looked at him. “So I’d like to know if I’m a suspect before I ask you to leave.”
* * *
Darby fought the waves of nerves that mixed her few sips of coffee into a dark sloshy brew in her stomach. Even with the subtle feeling that she was going to be sick, she refused to stand down.
How dare he come to her home and ask her questions like this?
She wasn’t a murderer. More than that, she’d been so busy since Bo’s death, she’d barely kept her head above water. What did he possibly think she was about?
And why?
Unbidden, images of the past few weeks’ front pages of the Red Ridge Gazette filled her mind’s eye.
Groom Killer on the Loose.
The Red Ridge Groom Killer—Crime of Passion or Premeditated Murder?
Love or Revenge? Does the Groom Killer Want Both?
One after the next, the headlines had grown more and more lurid as each day went by without any leads. The reporters at the Gazette had been having a field day with the biggest thing to hit Red Ridge since a four-month gold rush helped establish the town in the late nineteenth century. Now that a second groom had been killed, the headlines would only get worse.
Because it was worse, she reminded herself. There was a groom killer on the loose.
“You think I’m doing this? First Bo. Then this poor Michael Hayden, a man I didn’t even know.”
“I’m asking a few questions.”
“No, Chief Colton. You’re not.”
When he said nothing, she continued. “Can you honestly sit there and tell me you think I murdered my ex-husband to get my hands on this?” She gestured to the kitchen at large, stopping when her gaze landed on Penny. “Other than Penny, the man has left me with less than nothing.”
He seemed to soften a bit at her mention of the dog, his hard gaze softening as it grew speculative. “I’m not sure his fiancée sees it the same way.”
The comment was enough to respike her ire and Darby let out a heavy exhale. “Don’t think Hayley hasn’t been by a few times to make that very point.”
“Miss Patton’s been here?”
“Sure. She came to get her things. Made a point to prance out of the bedroom flaunting a small red negligee like it was going to hurt my feelings.”
“You were married to Bo Gage,” Chief Colton pointed out. He didn’t even blink at the mention of a red slinky number. “Presumably she thought it would upset you?”
“Bo and I parted on amicable terms. The best thing I can say about the day I signed my divorce papers was the sense of relief.”
“You weren’t upset?”
“I spent the majority of my marriage upset. By the time I reached that day, I was just happy to be out, free to go about my life.”
As the words settled between them, hovering somewhere over the sugar bowl in the middle of the table, Darby couldn’t deny their truth. She’d had no desire to be a divorcée at the age of twenty-seven, but in the ensuing two years she’d come to accept the fact that ending her marriage to Bo had been the right thing to do.
She might not have found anyone to move on with, but she had moved on. There was strength in that, and a deep sense of pride that she’d been willing to make the tough decisions and stand up for herself.
It had also toughened her up and she knew she didn’t have to sit there and answer Chief Colton’s questions, no matter how attractive the questioner.
And darn her stupid feminine awareness for picking up on that fact.
Whatever she’d expected when he’d arrived, Finn Colton wasn’t there to help her any more than any other gawkers who’d been by over the past few weeks. She was on her own.
Just like always.
But it was his next words that proved it.
“Would you be able to tell me your whereabouts for yesterday between the hours of seven and nine?”
Chapter 3
Finn poured himself another cup of precinct coffee, well aware the caffeine wasn’t going to do any favors for the slick knot that still twisted his gut. His interview with Darby Gage hadn’t gone well and after securing her unprovable alibi for Hayden’s murder—an evening in with Penny—he’d left her in a fine pique.
Although he’d been hoping for confirmation that she’d been out with girlfriends or even on a date, her pronouncement that she’d spent the cold winter night in with her obstinate new roommate hadn’t gotten him any nearer to removing Darby Gage from his suspect list.
He headed back to his desk from the small kitchenette the RRPD secretary, Lorelei Wong, maintained with the same ruthless efficiency with which she manned the front entrance. He’d deliberately used the single-cup brewer instead of making a pot so she wouldn’t come in Monday morning and razz him for making a mess. She’d probably still find an infraction, but at least he wouldn’t risk leaving a coffeemaker full of coffee grounds or stale coffee gone cold in the pot.
The case bothered him. He knew himself well
enough to know that not only would it require his full concentration, but that that same concentration would likely reduce a few brain cells for the next few days.
Who was killing grooms-to-be in his town?
What makes people do such horrible things?
Darby’s question haunted him, nagging at the back of his sleep-deprived mind. After his visit to Bo Gage’s old residence, he’d headed back to the Circle T to review the latest crime scene with fresh eyes. The visit hadn’t turned up much, other than the fact that the town was shaken. The restaurant had reported that nearly all their Saturday night reservations had been canceled before the owner was even able to make the calls that they would be closed that evening.
But it was the comments the proprietor, Gus Hanley, had fielded from those canceling guests that had Finn concerned.
“If someone’s killing men who are about to get married, can I risk even going out on a date?”
“Big-city crime has come to Red Ridge. Maybe I need to try staying in for a while.”
“Should we reconsider our spring wedding?”
Along with the canceled reservations, Gus had lost two events for early March—one for an engagement party and one for a rehearsal dinner.
No doubt about it, Red Ridge was in a panic. As a lifelong resident, Finn found that sad. As chief of police—it was unbearable. He’d become a cop because he’d wanted to make a difference. The fact that he was good at it was an added bonus that kept him focused, determined and dedicated. The added added bonus of working with Lotte had sealed the deal.
He hadn’t always been a K-9 cop. His first few years on the force had been focused on learning the ropes and endless hours of traffic detail. But he’d showed promise and the old chief, Clancy Macintyre, had taken him under his wing. Chief Macintyre had been a good influence, balancing his innate ability to teach with the patience and care Finn’s own father had never exhibited.
Judson Colton was a rancher and a damn fine one. But he’d never understood his oldest son, a quiet kid with an unerring eye for detail. That had always been true and, whether by choice or by habit, he and his father maintained a respectful distance. His father’s second wife, Joanelle, had made that even easier to accomplish with her cold ways and dismissal of Judson’s first child as a burden she was forced to carry.
But there was one thing ranch life had taught Finn and that was his love of animals. His opportunity to move in to the K-9 unit and work with a trained canine partner had taken his love of police work and made it his life’s calling.
He was good at his job and he was good to the men and women who worked for him. They all kept Red Ridge safe and took pride in their role as protectors. And someone had come to their town and violated all they’d built.
Suddenly tired of it all, including the need to question petite women with silky hair and what read as determined—but innocent—eyes, Finn headed for his desk. The case weighed on him and he’d be no good to anyone if he didn’t clear his head. It was time to wrap up the little paperwork he’d come in for, get his notes on the interview with Darby logged in and head home. Maybe he’d make a steak and a baked potato, the hearty meal a way to relax and recharge.
And then he’d eat it alone.
That thought hit harder than all the others that had bombarded him throughout the day.
He’d been alone since his divorce and had believed himself okay with it. He’d had dates from time to time. Had even progressed to something more like a relationship a few years back with a sweet teacher down in Black Hills City. But, ultimately, things hadn’t worked out. She’d had visions of the future and in the end he simply couldn’t get his head on the same page.
So why was he now imagining enjoying his steak and potato with a companion?
One who looked suspiciously like Darby Gage.
The squad room was quiet. His cousin Brayden, another K-9 cop on the team, was tapping away at his keyboard. He was nodding his head to whatever music pumped through his ears—classic rock, if Finn knew his cousin—but he did holler a “yo” as Finn passed.
Finn briefly toyed with inviting Brayden to join him for dinner, but for some reason the thought of sharing a steak and a beer with his cousin—whom he liked quite a bit—didn’t entice the same way as images of dining with Darby.
Since his latest set of notes wouldn’t write itself, Finn opted to ignore thoughts of dinner altogether as he sat down. His desk held what he considered a comfortable amount of clutter: stacks of files, a handful of notes, and a series of sticky notes that littered the top of his desk and the edges of his computer monitor. Shifting a stack of folders farther to the edge, he knocked over a dark box, the square packaging making a heavy thud as it hit the floor.
Finn bent to pick it up, quite sure the box hadn’t been on his desk the night before. There was a small square card taped to the top and he flipped it open.
“‘Chocolates for a cop with a big heart.’” The note was signed “an appreciative citizen” and had small hearts dotting the i’s in “citizen.”
He wanted to think it was sweet—this wasn’t the first anonymous gift he’d received over the past few weeks—but it was beginning to get out of hand. Red Ridge was a small town and he appreciated the proprietary way the citizens treated their local law enforcement. The holidays typically brought a steady stream of cookies and cakes for the staff and homemade treats for the canine members of the team. Summer often brought picnic baskets of fried chicken and endless vats of lemonade.
In all of those cases, the townsfolk enjoyed bringing in the gifts and thanking the staff in person. What Finn couldn’t quite reconcile with the recent spate of gifts directed at him was why the giver felt the need to be anonymous.
Going with his gut, he dropped the chocolate into the trash can under his desk and went back to his report.
There really was no accounting for the wacky things people did. And since he had a killer to catch, he hardly had the time to worry about someone too shy to come in to the precinct to say hello.
* * *
Darby stared at her checkbook and tried desperately not to think about the debt that loomed once she got through the month of February.
“Welcome to Monday,” she muttered to herself, well aware she’d have the same problem on a Tuesday, a Wednesday or any other day of the week. There simply wasn’t any more money. And the vet’s visit the day before—a courtesy visit he’d called it—had proved conclusively she couldn’t breed Penny again. The risk to Penny’s health was too great to support another litter, especially coming on the heels of the litter she’d had the previous fall.
He’d mentioned a sweet German shepherd he’d taken care of in a nearby town—one ready for breeding and whose owner would sell for a fair price assuming she could keep one of the litter as part of the arrangement. But Darby knew it was hopeless. She barely had enough to take care of herself and Penny. There was no way she could afford a new dog right now.
The breeding program would have to wait until she got back on her feet. A few more months of her regular jobs—waitressing at the diner and helping out at the K-9 training center—and she’d reassess. That was assuming the taxes on Bo’s property didn’t put her underwater before she could earn what she needed.
On a hard sigh, she slammed the checkbook cover closed and shoved it, along with several open bills, across the kitchen table. She’d worry about it later. The problem wasn’t going anywhere and she had one more room to clean before she’d finally feel like she’d officially moved in to her own home.
When had Bo become such a slob?
While she hadn’t lied to Chief Colton the other day—that she was pleased to be out of her marriage—Bo hadn’t been a terrible guy. They weren’t compatible in the least and once she’d gotten past the fact that she’d fallen in love with an image instead of an actual person, it had become far easier for her to assess her marriage
through objective eyes.
Even his roving nature—undoubtedly the worst aspect of their relationship—had an odd sense of immaturity wrapped up in it. If Bo wanted something, he went after it. Like a child unable to leave a sweet on the counter or Penny snatching something from the trash. The item was taken because it was there.
Bo was the same with women.
What he hadn’t been, if memory served, was a piggish man with a dirty home. Granted, he’d been a bachelor before she’d moved in the first time, and had spent more time out of the house than in, but she hadn’t remembered the dirt.
Or maybe she’d simply had the blind gaze of a newlywed, determined to create a new life.
She crossed to the counter and picked up her scrub brush, soap and a large container of bleach. She’d nearly gone through the entire thing over the past week, scrubbing down anything and everything she could find. The small second bathroom at the back of the house was her last hurdle to conquer. She could then at least take comfort that she laid her head down each evening in a clean home.
An hour later, with the last section of shower tile shining a gleaming white, a heavy pounding on the front door jarred Darby from her thoughts and the throbbing strains of pop music that played through her earbuds. The addition of Penny’s barking had her peeling off her rubber gloves and dropping everything into the tub to go see who was at the door.
“Penny!” The dog had her nose pressed to the floor in front of the door, a low growl emanating from deep in her throat.
The pounding kicked up again and without the earbuds Darby had no trouble making out who was knocking. The high-pitched screech gave it away even before Darby pulled aside the small panel curtain that hid the glass beside the door.
Hayley Patton.
“Darby Gage, you let me in!”
Although it had been a few years since she’d lived with Bo and Penny, Darby hadn’t forgotten her training skills or the way Bo had taught her to manage the dog. She used the required instructions to order Penny away from the door, satisfied when she took up her post a few feet back, blocking the small hallway entrance into the main living area of the house.