“The kids discovered the body?” Dana glanced at the two teenagers sitting on the back end of one of the ambulances. “That’s rough.”
The boy had his arms wrapped around the girl who sobbed against his shoulder. Rafe’s gaze lingered on the couple. He knew them both—the star of the boys’ basketball team and a Native American girl who had won a scholarship to a space camp in Houston last summer. Reminded him of two other naive high school kids.
He blinked and slid his gaze to Dana’s face, but she had her eyes locked on the dead girl crumpled next to her car in the parking lot.
“Who is she?”
“Jacey Holloway.” Emmett whipped a handkerchief out of his pocket and mopped his face, despite the chill in the air. “She’s half Ute. She must’ve driven out here to meet someone. She doesn’t work at Shopco and the store’s been closed for over four hours.”
Dana edged toward Jacey’s lifeless body as the FBI’s fingerprint guys finished dusting the car and Jacey’s purse, still sitting on the passenger seat. She pointed to the girl’s head. “She’s not wearing a bandana and feather.”
Steve knelt next to the body. “He must add that charming touch when he dumps them.” His gloved finger swept along the angry red marks on Jacey’s throat.
“Strangled like the others. And look at this.” His fingertip traced a red blotch near the girl’s collarbone.
Frowning, Rafe bent down for a closer look. “That’s consistent with a similar mark on Holly’s neck. Jewelry? A ring?”
“Looks like it.” Dana bent forward, putting her hands behind her back.
Was she afraid to touch Jacey’s body? What would the dead girl tell her? Could Dana glean enough information from her vision to give them a lead on this guy?
Rafe clenched his jaw. He had no business judging Dana. Hell, just watching her in that trance today freaked him out. It must have terrified her.
Running a hand through his hair, Rafe stepped back and grabbed the edge of the car door. “Anyone check Jacey’s purse yet?”
Steve answered, “No. They just finished the fingerprints.”
Rafe pulled a pair of gloves out of his jacket pocket and slipped them on, wiggling his fingers into the ends. He unzipped Jacey’s purse and dumped the contents on the seat. He flipped open her wallet containing her driver’s license, a few credit cards and a small amount of cash. Her pink cell phone reflected the glow from the dome light, and Rafe pinched it between his thumb and forefinger and slid it open.
“Any messages?” Dana peered over his shoulder, her warm breath a whisper against his ear.
Rafe squinted at the small screen of the phone. “No voice mail messages, but she has eight text messages.”
“Let’s read them.” In her eagerness, Dana reached forward and pressed the message button. Several messages scrolled onto the screen, and Rafe held the phone under the light to read them.
“Damn.” Rafe rubbed his eyes as if to erase the words that floated before him on the cell phone display.
“What is it?” Her hair tickled his cheek. Any other time, any other place, he would’ve welcomed the sensation. But even being in close proximity to Dana Croft couldn’t soothe the pounding drumbeat in his temples.
He tapped the phone, and Dana snatched it from his hand. “Brice? Oh, my God. Is this your Brice?”
“I don’t know any other Brice in town.” He could barely form the words in his dry mouth. If one of his men was involved in this…
“Did you find something?” Emmett ducked his head in the other side of the car.
“A text message from Brice Kellog on Jacey’s phone.” Rafe held out his hand for the cell phone and Dana dropped it into his gloved palm.
Emmett swore. “You’re kidding. What’s it say?”
Rafe cleared his throat. “Meet me at the Shopco at midnight.”
“Is he on duty tonight?” Emmett’s narrowed gaze scanned the law enforcement personnel scattered across the Shopco parking lot.
“Nope. He’s off.” Rafe scratched the stubble on his chin. “There’s something else, Emmett. When Dana and I were at Holly Thompson’s house today, her mother told us Holly dated Brice once or twice. Since he was off today, I’d planned to talk to him about it tomorrow…today.”
“Sounds like we need to talk to him now. Do you think he lured her out here and killed her? What about the other girls? We need to put a rush on Holly’s phone records.” Emmett slammed the roof of the car.
“Hold on, Emmett.” Rafe edged around to Emmett’s side of the car and Dana followed close on his heels. “Let’s talk to the guy first. We can’t try and convict him on one text message.”
Emmett ran his fingers along the rim of his hat. “I know that, Rafe, but this is the best lead we’ve had so far.”
Rafe’s eyes flicked to Dana’s face, which appeared pale in the sweeping spotlights that illuminated the crime scene. Of course, Emmett didn’t know about the other potential lead that occurred in Holly Thompson’s bedroom. And Rafe had no intention of telling him.
“I’m going out to his place to talk to him right now.”
Her eyes wide, Dana tugged at the sleeve of his jacket. “I’m coming with you.”
Did she hope to pick up some vibes from Brice, or did she want to escape the vibes from the murder scene? Either way, he wanted her company…anyway he could get it.
The three agencies held a quick meeting to review the possible evidence left in the parking lot, and then Rafe bundled Dana into his squad car for the drive to Brice’s place in Silverhill.
He slid his gaze to her face, shadowed in the dark car. “What are you thinking? Did you feel anything back there?”
“Yeah, I did.” She leaned her forehead against the window and her hair fell across her face. “She called out to me, Rafe.”
“What?” He nearly ran off the road as a chill snaked up his spine. “Jacey?”
“It’s not like I heard voices, but some force was pulling me toward her, willing me to touch her hair, her skin, compelling me to divine her secrets.”
“So why didn’t you?” Rafe clutched the steering wheel so hard his knuckles cracked.
She hunched her shoulders. “I’m a coward.”
“The hell you are.” He smacked the console. “Nobody’s going to call you a coward for refusing to lay your hands on a dead body.”
Sighing, she leaned her head against the headrest and closed her eyes. “That’s why I wanted to come with you to interview Brice.”
“To escape the voices?”
“To see if you could get him to confess so I don’t have to explore my gift.”
“Even if Brice doesn’t confess to anything more than an illiterate text message, you don’t have to go down that road, Dana.” He ran his palm along her thigh, the worn denim of her jeans soft to his touch. Her muscles tensed beneath his hand and he gave her knee a little squeeze before releasing her.
He understood her conflict over the situation. She had an opportunity to glean some information about a killer by using powers she’d rejected years ago. Those powers frightened her, but the fear she felt while in a trance rivaled the disgust she felt at being linked to her mother. That’s the last thing Dana wanted.
“I may have to go down that road…for those girls.”
She pushed her fingers through her hair, barely resembling the sleek style from earlier today. That midnight call had yanked her out of bed, and she’d pulled on a pair of old jeans and stuffed her feet into some fur-lined boots. She didn’t have a drop of makeup on her face either, and she still took his breath away.
His fingers itched to soothe the worry lines from between her eyebrows. His arms ached with a need to hold her close and whisper words of comfort in her ear. His lips…okay, he’d stop right there.
He swung into Brice’s driveway with dread pounding at his temples. He’d encountered a few cases of dirty cops in L.A., but murder? He refused to believe he’d been that wrong about Brice, but some people kept secrets as ea
sily as pulling on a pair of pants in the morning.
He cut the engine as he glanced at Dana’s profile. That’s what he’d liked so much about Dana. No secrets. When Emmett blurted out the truth about Dana’s heritage from the Redbird family, it shocked Rafe—not that she had the gift, but that she’d kept it from him. He knew she had her reasons, and he could understand the deception and forgive her.
He could forgive her just about anything.
Letting out a long breath, Rafe surveyed the area. No car in sight, but he knew Brice kept his Mustang in the garage. Surely the kids in the parking lot would’ve noticed a souped-up car like Brice’s pulling out. The noise from his engine could wake the dead. Almost.
“Okay, let’s do this.” Dana popped open the car door. “Do you want me to take the lead since he’s your guy?”
“I can handle Brice.”
They strode up the porch together and Rafe banged on the front door. “Brice, it’s Rafe. Open up.”
He punched the doorbell several times and pounded again. The porch light flicked on, bathing them in a waxy glow. The scraping noises of the dead bolt indicated Brice was fumbling with the key. Did they wake him, or was he putting on an act?
The door inched open, and one sleepy eye appeared in the crack. “What the hell is going on?”
“I need to talk to you. Let us in.” Rafe would save the news about the murder until he stood toe-to-toe with Brice and could gauge his reaction.
“What time is it?” Brice swung open the door, but still blocked their entrance.
“Are you going to make us stand out here the rest of the morning?”
“Us?” Brice rubbed his eyes and yawned.
If this was an act, he was putting on a damned good show. Rafe stepped to the side to reveal Dana perched on the bottom step.
Brice gulped and backed up. “Let me get some pants on.”
As he walked away, Rafe could see that he’d put his boxers on backward. Brice stumbled into the hallway and Rafe raised his brows at Dana, closing the door behind them.
He whispered, “What do you think?”
She shrugged. “Looks like he just woke up and pulled on his underwear…backward.”
A door clicked shut and Brice came from the back of the house, buttoning his fly. “Sorry, Agent Croft. Now, what’s this all about, Sheriff? Has there been another murder?”
“Now why would you say that?”
“Are you kidding?” Brice rubbed a hand over his rumpled hair. “We have a maniac out there killing girls and you’re banging on my front door with the FBI at—” he squinted at the clock on the kitchen wall “—two o’clock in the morning on my day off…or what used to be my day off.”
“Yeah, there’s been another murder. Where were you three hours ago?” Rafe crossed his arms and clenched his jaw. Give me a good answer, buddy.
Brice’s eyes widened as his gaze darted between Rafe and Dana. “Me? You’re asking me for an alibi? Who was it?”
“Jacey Holloway.” Dana shoved her hands in her pockets. “You know her, Brice?”
Brice swore and sank to the sofa, burying his head in his hands. As his shoulders shook, Rafe exchanged a glance with Dana. If Brice did kill Jacey, he could give Al Pacino a run for his money.
Rafe cleared his throat. “Brice?”
Brice raised his head, the heels of his hands pressed to his eyes. “God, not Jacey.”
“Did you know Jacey?” Dana sat on the sofa next to Brice and touched his shoulder. “Were you dating her?”
“Not yet.” He sniffled and rubbed a hand beneath his nose. “We hooked up a few weeks ago. I got her number, and we were going to try to hook up again.”
“Did you text her tonight?” Rafe narrowed his eyes, watching for a sign or a slipup.
Brice’s mouth hung open while his head jerked between Dana and Rafe. “Tonight? No, I didn’t text her tonight.”
“Well, that’s the problem, Brice.” Rafe hooked his thumbs in his belt loops, lifting his shoulders. “We found a text message from you on Jacey’s cell phone—a message asking her to meet you in the Shopco parking lot…the same parking lot where someone strangled her.”
Brice bounded from the sofa and cursed. “I did not text Jacey tonight.” He lunged across the room and whipped his jacket off the back of a kitchen chair. He grabbed one pocket and then the other and cursed again.
“I thought I left my cell phone in my pocket.” He pointed to a door that led to the garage. “Can I check my car?”
Rafe nodded and sauntered to the garage door to follow Brice. Brice stuck his head in the Mustang and called back over his shoulder, “It’s gone.”
He followed Rafe back into the house, rubbing his bare arms. “Someone must’ve stolen it and then used it to text Jacey.”
“Or you sent Jacey that text message, murdered her and then tossed the phone out so you could claim somebody stole it.” Dana had her finger leveled at Brice, and his mouth gaped open like a fish on a hook.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were dating Holly Thompson?”
Brice swiveled his head back toward Rafe. “I—I was going to tell you that, Sheriff, but we weren’t really dating. We just…ah…slept together a few times.”
“And you didn’t think that was important information for a murder investigation?”
Clutching his hair, Brice paced the floor. “Yeah, I knew it was. I swear I was going to tell you.”
“By not bringing it up first, you put yourself in a mighty awkward position, especially for an officer of the law. Thought I trained you better than that, Brice.”
“I swear, Sheriff, I had nothing to do with the murders. Someone stole my phone or I dropped it. I’ll take a lie detector test…anything…”
Dana interrupted his babbling by slicing her hand through the air. “First you need to tell us where you were tonight, Brice.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed. “I was at the Elk Ridge Bar. I left around ten-thirty.”
“Where did you go?” Dana had taken out a pad of paper and a pen. Despite her casual clothes, she radiated a no-nonsense professionalism.
“I came home.”
“Alone?” Dana’s gaze drifted toward the darkened hallway.
Brice took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. “Yes.”
A woman’s voice floated from the back. “Oh, honey, you don’t have to lie for me. This is too serious.”
Belinda Mathers, very rich and very married and wrapped in the khaki shirt from Brice’s uniform, sashayed into the living room.
“Hello, Sheriff McClintock.” Her gaze raked him up and down, and with it he felt his clothing peel away.
“Belinda.” He shifted his hat in front of his crotch. “How long have you been here with Brice?”
She grinned while her eyes dropped to his hat. “All night long, Sheriff. We met up at the Elk, and I saw him use his cell phone about a half hour before we left…together. He was calling a friend to let him know he wouldn’t be going to another club in Durango. If someone used Brice’s cell phone to send a message to that poor little girl, he must’ve stolen it from Brice or found it in the parking lot of the Elk. That’s where you should be looking.”
“You don’t have to do this, Belinda.” Brice held out his hand to the woman, who had a good twenty years on him and a hell of a lot of experience.
She laughed, a husky sound, and then reached up and fluffed her hair. “Don’t worry, honey. My husband’s used to it.”
Dana coughed. “Did you leave your jacket unattended at the Elk? Could someone have stolen the phone from the bar?”
“I suppose so.”
“Aren’t you Ronnie’s girl?” Belinda squinted at Dana. “Now there’s a woman who knew how to have a good time.”
Rafe rolled his eyes at Dana, trying to make a joke out of it. Dana’s eyes glittered as she turned her back on Belinda and faced Brice.
“Did anyone know you’d hooked up with Jacey?”
Brice choked out, “Do you
think someone’s trying to frame me? I mean, first Holly and then Jacey.”
“What about Lindy and Alicia?” Rafe’s heart thumped in his chest. Could his own deputy be the link all these girls shared?
“I saw Lindy around at some of the bars and clubs in Durango, and I knew Alicia’s boyfriend, but I never…ah…dated either one of them.”
Rafe let out a long sigh, but they still had the cell phone. Brice made a call from the Elk around ten o’clock, and then someone used the same phone to send a text message to Jacey at eleven-twenty. That placed the killer at a general time and a specific location.
Relieved his deputy didn’t have anything to do with the murders, Rafe gripped his hand in a firm shake. “We’ll need to go back to the Elk tomorrow, retrace your steps, talk to the bartender. We’ve got ourselves a break.”
Brice returned his grip. “I’ll be there, Sheriff, and I’m sorry I didn’t come clean before about Holly.” Brice passed his hands over his face. “I can’t believe this is happening to those girls.”
“C’mon, honey.” Belinda crooked her index finger. “I’ll make it all better.” She prowled back toward the bedroom, her shapely hips swaying suggestively.
Brice opened the door for Rafe and Dana. “I’ll be at the station in a few hours.”
“See you then.” Rafe smacked the doorjamb with the palm of his hand. “Get some sleep and…try to keep your pants on.”
When Rafe slid into the front seat of his squad car, he whistled. “I’m glad Brice was boinking Belinda Mathers instead of murdering Jacey Holloway.”
Dana snorted. “When you mentioned Brice had a thing for the ladies, you weren’t kidding. For a minute there, I thought our killer might be some disgruntled husband or jealous suitor who had it in for lover boy there.”
Rafe snapped his fingers. “Hey, that’s not a bad theory. Maybe we need to look a little more closely at Alicia’s boyfriend, Patrick Rainwater. Brice said he knew Alicia’s boyfriend. Maybe Patrick got jealous.”
“But Alicia wasn’t the first victim. Why would he kill Lindy? Brice said he didn’t even know Lindy.”
“I’m just grasping at straws. It’s late. I’m punchy.”
The Sheriff of Silverhill Page 7