Kidnapped at Christmas

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Kidnapped at Christmas Page 19

by Maggie K. Black


  Seth looked back at his notes as if to process what she’d just said. The grim silence that followed did nothing to quell the anxiety churning inside her. “Paige—” He looked up at her, keeping his voice low, as if to deescalate the situation. Like it was that easy. “Roughly 10 percent of all traffic accidents are hit-and-runs. And just as you described, they often involve an aggressive driver who causes the accident, then gets scared and takes off without stopping to help. Who knows, maybe this driver was even intoxicated.”

  Seth’s simplistic cop logic sent adrenaline shooting through her veins. Some maniac had tried to kill her. Didn’t he get that? Paige felt her jaw go rock hard as she tried to control the frustration exploding in her chest. “What this driver did was intentional, not an accident.”

  Seth perched a hand on the footboard and studied her, a question mark on his face. “Paige, is there a reason that you’d think someone would want to hurt you?”

  Paige shivered as a montage of memories roared through her head. Spiraling, reeling, flooding her brain with such veracity she felt dizzy again. Madison’s death. Her brother’s arrest. Evidence and more evidence. The bloody knife. The DNA. The upcoming trial...a killer still on the loose.

  She opened her mouth, barely getting the words out. “Yes, I do believe there’s a reason someone would want to hurt me.”

  Seth’s deep brown gaze locked on hers, probing, assessing. “And why is that?”

  Her throat knotted. She lifted her chin. “Because, Detective, I came back to Boone looking for the truth.”

  * * *

  Seth’s brows rose again. Truth? No amount of evidence would ever be enough for this woman.

  And the last thing he needed was Trey Becker’s sister running around Boone, asking questions and stirring up more anger and strife toward her brother.

  Seth felt a tight curl of frustration in his gut. Trey had been charged in the stabbing death of his estranged wife, Madison Cramer Becker. A death that sparked outrage in the community and left Boone residents with a bad taste in their mouths when it came to Trey Becker.

  Even ten months later, that anger was still burning strong.

  The Cramers were well-known, longtime residents in Boone. The family owned the local antique mart, and several generations still lived in the area.

  A tight-knit bunch, but unfortunately not immune to tragedy. Ten years earlier, Frank Cramer, Madison’s father, was killed after being involved in an accident with a drunk driver. His death spurred an outpouring of community support and sympathy for the surviving family members—Madison, her brother and her mother.

  Many of those same residents now counted the days until Trey Becker’s trial. They weren’t going to rest until Madison’s killer was convicted and facing life in prison without parole.

  Paige couldn’t have picked a worse time to come back.

  “Paige, don’t do this to yourself,” Seth urged, knowing he was probably wasting his breath. “Trey has a good legal team on his case. Let them do their job.”

  “Are you kidding?” Paige shot him a look. “For ten months I sat back and let everyone ‘do their job.’” Her fingers made air quotes. “Detectives, police, reporters, attorneys.”

  “And there’s some strong evidence against Trey.” Seth sighed, already growing annoyed by the conversation. “People have been doing their job.”

  “Really?” She let out a heavy sigh. “Then whose job is it to find evidence in support of my brother? Nobody seems to be doing that.”

  Seth took a deep breath, frustration battling with empathy. It wasn’t like he hadn’t given her brother the benefit of the doubt. Trey had been a friend. A fellow SEAL. But from the get-go, things hadn’t looked good. When Seth and other officers arrived at Madison’s home, they’d found Trey, his hands covered in blood. More blood on his clothes.

  Forensics later confirmed Madison had been stabbed multiple times and her throat slit by a government-issue US Navy Ka-Bar, the combat knife presented to SEALs upon graduation. Evidence of Trey’s fingerprints on the weapon and DNA at the scene hammered the final nail in his case.

  Still, part of Seth got what Paige was doing. Trey was the only family she had left. Family was important. She wanted no stone left unturned. But, up to now, every stone they touched produced more evidence against her brother.

  Seth spread his hands. “Paige, you know if new evidence turns up against anyone else, we’d reopen your brother’s investigation. But right now, every shred of evidence we’ve come up with points to Trey.”

  A tousled, silky lock of hair tumbled in front of her face as Paige looked up, her eyes weary and pained, void of the tenacious glint that belonged to the woman he’d once loved. Grief stabbed him in the chest at her pain. And the worst part—there was nothing he could do to help.

  “Come on, Seth.” She gave a hard sigh, tucking the strand behind her ear. “It shouldn’t surprise anyone that Trey’s fingerprints and DNA were at the scene. He found Madison. And, as far as the knife goes, well, we both know evidence can be planted.”

  Seth nodded, absently drumming his fingers against his jeans-clad thigh. She wasn’t saying anything he hadn’t heard before. But it was hard to give much weight to Paige’s deduction that Trey, who had been highly intoxicated the night of the murder, had been framed by the real killer. A theory that she hadn’t budged from since her brother’s arrest. And one that was a bit much for him to swallow.

  “The truth is, Seth, Trey got caught in the crosshairs of your investigation and you never looked further.” Paige continued, her eyes wide before she looked away in disgust, “You never even took into account that he tried to revive Madison and called the police.”

  A murder suspect calling police wasn’t that unusual, Seth thought with a mental groan. Especially an intoxicated one. Alcohol, anger and impulsiveness were a lethal combination. He knew that from experience, growing up with an alcoholic father—a calm, sensible man until he was drinking. His family never knew what to expect. Seth had almost breathed relief at fourteen when his father stomped out of the house, suitcase in hand, screaming at the top of his lungs that he’d never be back.

  That was the last time he’d seen his father and the last time he’d prayed. He’d learned how futile it was to pray for someone to change.

  Seth put his hands on his hips. “Paige, I’m sorry for what you’re going through. I know this ordeal has been difficult for you.”

  “Sorry?” Paige whipped her gaze back to him, her eyes sizzling. “The only thing you should be sorry about is that my brother is facing a life sentence in prison while a brutal killer is still running free.”

  “Paige—” When Seth tried to interject, she cut him off.

  “Don’t try to dispute it, Seth.” She crossed her arms. “Trey would never hurt anyone, much less murder his wife. Even if he and Madison never worked out their issues, he still loved her.”

  Crimes of passion were impulsive acts. Add in alcohol or any mind-altering substance, and judgment could become impaired. And when someone was under the influence, it was even easier to lose self-control in the heat of the moment. “Gut feelings aren’t enough, Paige.”

  “Then what about what happened tonight?” Her eyes probed his face as she jutted her thumb back at herself. “Someone tried to kill me.”

  Seth folded his arms, frustration reigning supreme. “Paige, tonight’s accident will be thoroughly investigated, however it’s too early to assume anything.”

  “I know I’m only speculating,” Paige said, her gown rustling as she straightened. “However, if tonight’s accident was intentional, the only person I can think of with a motive to hurt me would be Madison’s killer.”

  Seth started to shake his head, but Paige stopped him again with a staying hand. “Seth, it makes perfect sense. If my brother is convicted, the real killer gets off scot-free. The last thing the creep would want is for me to come back to town and start asking questions.”

  Good hypothesis—that was, if Seth tho
ught Madison’s killer was still out there. But, as the investigator on Paige’s case, he’d hear her out. He tightened his arms over his chest. “Okay, Paige. Who knew you’d be in town today?” He asked the question, even though it struck at his heart that she hadn’t even bothered to contact him.

  “It was a last-minute trip. I only contacted my friend Tessa Riley.” Even as she kept her expression placid, red crept into her cheeks. She’d caught his vibe. And he knew an excuse when he heard one. “I called Tessa yesterday after my boss at the rehab center gave me the time off to come. We’re short staffed, but she knows about Trey’s situation and how difficult it’s been on me. However...” She sat up straighter. “After I arrived and dropped my bags off at Tessa’s, I went out to do some errands and ran into several old friends and acquaintances.”

  Seth scratched his cheek. “Did anyone act suspicious?”

  She thought a moment, then shook her head. “Everyone kept their distance. No one wanted to talk about Madison or discuss her murder. Although that’s probably not unusual. However—” Paige emphasized the word “—the way news travels around here, half of Boone probably knows I’m in town by now.”

  True, but... Seth drew in a deep breath. It still sounded like a TV crime drama to him. Not to mention the theory was difficult to substantiate, given the information they had. “Paige, we’ve exhausted every lead we received on Madison’s case. As much as I’d like to find something that would exonerate your brother, that just hasn’t happened.”

  Paige grabbed the side rail, pulling herself up straighter in the bed. “That, Detective, is what I’m here to do.”

  Like rubbing salt in a wound. “Do what, Paige? Try to convince yourself that Trey just might be guilty?” Seth’s tone was meant to be frank, but his frustration rang clearly.

  One of Paige’s brows soared upward, but she didn’t respond. Just stared back at him, a steady, indignant look in her deep emerald eyes.

  Instant regret knifed through him, not only for his blunt choice of words, but for everything that had gone wrong in their relationship. He’d made a vow early in his career to keep his personal life and detective work separate, but he should have worked harder to support Paige. Maybe then their relationship could have weathered this storm.

  The heavy rock in his gut swelled to a boulder, telling him probably not.

  He’d learned years ago that when someone was ready to bolt, there was no holding on to them. And after Trey’s trial was moved to Durham County because of all the negative pretrial publicity, there was no holding Paige back. She had nothing left in Boone.

  Including him.

  Seth shifted his stance, ignoring the sting of heartache in his chest. “Paige, there’s a lot of pent-up anger around this town. Coming back now and asking questions, especially on the brink of Trey’s trial, isn’t going to be easy on you.”

  Paige’s mouth flattened to a thin line. “Sitting in a six-by-eight jail cell hasn’t been easy on my brother, either.”

  Tension hung in the air, heavy and mounting. They were getting nowhere.

  Scrubbing a hand through his hair, Seth mentally tamped down his feelings, frustrated by the sudden whiplash of emotions and memories. Emotion that had no place on the job.

  Job. The reason he was there. He forced his focus back to the problem at hand—Paige’s accident. He took a deep breath and zipped up his jacket. Time to get out of there. He had everything he needed. “Paige, will you be staying with Tessa while you’re in town?”

  Paige hesitated, her scowl remaining. “I’ll be staying at her condo. She’s out of town on a cruise for the next week.”

  Seth made a mental note and stuffed his hands in his coat pockets. “Get some rest. I’ll touch base with you sometime tomorrow,” he said, then turned and headed out the door, focusing his thoughts on his investigation and stowing all sentimental nonsense that had nothing to do with this case.

  Copyright © 2016 by Mary Annslee Urban

  ISBN-13: 9781488008740

  Kidnapped at Christmas

  Copyright © 2016 by Mags Storey

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