One to Keep

by Sophie Oak

  professional cadence.

  “Any signs of sexual trauma?”

  Caleb shook his head. “None, but I ran a rape kit anyway. She was

  in the water for awhile.”

  “We won’t know how long until we can estimate a time of death.”

  Nate was cradling his cell in his hand. His face was haggard, and the

  morning seemed to have worn him down. “I haven’t even figured out

  when she went missing. Her mother talked to her last week. She was

  out with her boyfriend.”

  “I doubt it was a boyfriend,” Laura murmured.

  “It’s too clean,” Caleb insisted.

  Laura’s lips pursed in agreement. “Far too clean. This is an

  incised wound. It’s going to be hard to determine the exact weapon

  beyond the fact that it was a knife. The killer stood behind the

  victim.”

  “I thought so,” Caleb commented. His gloved finger traced the

  line of the fatal wound. “It starts high and ends lower on the neck. It’s also deep.”

  “Yes, if he had been in front of her the wound would be more

  shallow. This is professional. There’s no passion in this kill. It was business, pure and simple, and this man takes pride in his work.

  There’s a neat efficiency about the kill. You’re looking for a hired

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  killer.” She turned on her heels and frowned at Nate. “Which brings

  me to why I was looking for you.”

  “Laura, it’s going to have to wait.” Nate crossed his arms over his

  chest. “Right now I need to call some of my old contacts at the DEA.

  If this is a Colombian cartel, we need to know.”

  “I doubt it, Sheriff, unless Bliss has become the battleground for a

  nasty little bit of mob warfare.”

  Nate turned to Laura. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means I don’t think we’re a hot spot for criminal activity. You

  aren’t dealing with Colombians, but I would like to know why the hell

  the Russian mob is in town.”

  * * * *

  The room was becoming slightly oppressive. Jen stared at the door

  to the clinic, wondering why it seemed like everyone in Bliss needed

  to parade in and out of what had just been designated the county

  morgue.

  “Bad business,” Teeny said, shaking her head. Her little beak of a

  nose was turned down in what looked like sadness. “I can’t believe it.

  Would you like some fudge?”

  She held out a tray of perfectly cut fudge. She was wearing slacks

  and a pink sweater, and a lovingly detailed apron.

  This was an autopsy in Bliss.

  “No, thanks,” she said, giving Teeny a smile.

  “I’ll take some, Momma.” Logan reached over and grabbed two

  squares, giving his mother a thumbs-up. “I’m going to take some back

  for Hope. Nate left her answering the phones for the day.”

  “Me, too,” Rachel said, taking three. The dog at her feet whined.

  She frowned at Jen. “Don’t look at me like that. Baby needs fudge.”

  “And cookies.” Callie smiled at them, a huge tray of cookies in

  her arms. “Stella sent them. Apparently tragedy requires carbs. She’s

  on a tear. She’s been working nonstop. She made like a hundred

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  sandwiches when she found out the Sheriff’s Department was

  working on a homicide. I had to tell her that there were really only

  like five people working the case, but then Zane inhaled four

  sandwiches, and I just let her work.”

  “And you didn’t mention this to us, why?” Rachel asked,

  frowning at Callie.

  Callie set the tray on the small reception desk. “First, Nate asked

  me to keep my mouth shut.”

  “Since when has that stopped you?” Jen asked. It was no secret

  that Callie Hollister-Wright was the hub for information in Bliss.

  “This is serious.” Callie pushed her glasses up her nose. “I knew it

  would upset Rachel, and after what you went through, it should upset

  you as well. Besides, I only knew they had found a body early this

  morning. It could have been an accident. We have a town full of

  tourists. The last thing we need is some sort of panic.”

  “That is very mature of you,” Rachel said.

  “Thanks.”

  But Jen knew what that little frown on Rachel’s face meant, and

  she agreed with it whole-heartedly. “It wasn’t a compliment. We’re

  your best friends. You aren’t supposed to hold out on us.”

  “But—”

  “No buts,” Rachel replied, a finger pointing out in Callie’s

  direction. “Don’t start talking about your husbands. Who did you call

  when you put that dent in Nate’s new truck? Should I remind you that

  it wasn’t Nate? Was it Zane?”

  “It was you, and you know it.” Callie crossed her arms over her

  chest. “Of course I called you. You have a really devious mind. I

  would never have thought about saying I was installing a satellite

  radio for his birthday and getting the damage fixed so he never knew

  about it.”

  Jen grinned and gave Rachel a high five. “I would have gone with

  tinting his windows. See, Callie, you can love your husbands, but

  your girlfriends are the ones who get you out of trouble. I should

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  know. If you two had been with me, I’m sure one of you would have

  pointed out what a damn weasel my boss was. Such a jerk. I was

  supposed to be the artist-in-residence, but he had me doing the

  stupidest crap.”

  “Some men.” Rachel shook her head. “I remember my boss at my

  last job before coming to Bliss. He treated me like his barista.”

  “Yeah, well, Jean Claude seemed to think I was a handy man. One

  of the last things the bastard had me do was—oh, yeah.” Just like that it fell in place, and she wanted to smack herself for not seeing it

  sooner. The day before she’d been arrested, he’d had her mess around

  with the security cameras. He’d complained that the security company

  would take too long. Bullshit. Bastard. Son of a bitch. He’d set her up, and she’d been too stupid to see it.

  “What?” Callie asked, her eyes round under the glasses she wore.

  “I know where that painting is.” Jen started for the door. “I was

  just about to give the damn thing to Rachel as a baby gift.”

  “Whoa! You were about to give me a half-of-a-million-dollar,

  black-market Picasso? I thought it was just one of yours. Though they

  are beautiful.” Rachel’s mouth hung open. “That’s the awesomest

  present ever. Way better than the baby monitor that also acts as a

  SETI receiver. Baby boy’s going to college.”

  Jen reached for her coat. “You don’t get to keep it, Rach. It has to

  go back, but at least I know where it is. The nasty jerk hid it under the painting I was going to give to Rachel. He pulled the canvas off and

  hid the Picasso under mine. I wouldn’t be able to tell because he was

  a dipshit when it came to his personal life, but brilliant at what he did.

  He just didn’t figure I would be a crazy perfectionist. I decided I

  could do better. I painted the whole damn thing again in one night and changed some of the colors. Renard must have called the pol
ice the

  minute he realized he no longer had the painting. Asshole.”

  Rachel flushed slightly. “Uhm, I kind of talked to Holly. The one

  you put back for me really didn’t go with the room. I might have

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  talked Holly into switching it with the blue one. Don’t look at me like that. It’s a boy. Blue is for boys.”

  There was no pleasing a client. Every artist knew it. “It’s fine,

  Rach. But that means the others are potentially up for sale. I need to get my hands on that painting. Tell Stef I’ve gone back to town hall,

  and he should meet me there when he can.”

  Callie was right behind her. “I’m going with you.”

  Jen brushed past Logan and Marie and out of the door of the

  clinic. The glare of the sun off the snow made everything seem vital

  and alive. She loved winter in Colorado, but her mind was on getting

  to the town hall. Her heart wasn’t going to slow down until she pulled the canvas off that painting and made certain that the Picasso was

  underneath. It was her sure ticket to getting that potential felony off her record. Once that oppressive weight was off her, perhaps Stef

  could see her as something other than a girl constantly in trouble.

  The clinic was on the end of Main Street. It was quieter here. Up

  ahead, she could see that the festival was in full whirl, but here, there was an almost eerie quiet. She turned to tell Callie to follow her when she noted the two men standing with her friend.

  “Callie?” Jen immediately recognized them as the two men they

  had seen earlier in the day.

  The smaller one with the dangerous eyes was standing far too

  close to Callie. The big, gorgeous one was walking her way.

  “Miss Waters?” His deep voice rumbled out.

  “Yes,” she said because she had a terrible feeling that the smaller

  man wasn’t helping Callie balance on the snow. She caught the glint

  of metal at Callie’s waist and the way her face tightened. “Let my

  friend go.”

  “I can’t to be doing that.” There was an almost sympathetic look

  in his eyes, but it didn’t move Jen because the bastard still had a gun in his hand. “You have something that belong to my employer.”

  Jen took a deep breath. Trouble, it seemed, just kept finding her.

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  Chapter Thirteen

  Alexei stepped close to the brunette, who now resembled a

  frightened deer in the presence of a tiger. The fact that he was the

  predator was not lost on him. The gun in his hand felt pounds heavier

  than he knew it to be.

  “Don’t scream.” Ivan’s voice was low, but there was no way

  anyone could mistake the steely threat in it.

  Alexei wound his hand around the artist’s elbow and looked back

  at what was happening behind him. Ivan had the woman with glasses

  in a dangerous hold. His arm was securely wrapped around her waist,

  the bulky coats hiding the gun Ivan had shoved into the woman’s side.

  “You scream and I have no reason not to shoot you. Understand?”

  The woman bit her lip as though forcing herself to comply when

  all she wanted to do was yell. Slowly, she nodded her head. She took

  a deep breath, and though Alexei could still see the fear in her eyes, a stubborn will took over. She would fight. That small woman, with her

  sweet face and round glasses, would not go down easily.

  “It’s going to be all right, Callie.” The woman he held kept her

  voice steady. Her jaw firmed as she stared at her friend. “I’ll get us out of this.”

  Alexei hated the way his stomach churned, acid rising to his

  throat. He’d been worried about tears and pleading, but this suddenly

  seemed worse. These women were calm though afraid, their solidarity

  obvious in the way they encouraged each other. It was completely

  different from the others he’d dealt with. He and Ivan had specialized in dealing with other criminals. They had often worked over

  “partners” in an attempt to get information or simply to send a

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  message. The people Alexei had interrogated always gave up the

  other man. They begged and pleaded and lied about their partners in

  an attempt to throw the violence on someone else.

  These women loved each other. These women, he had no doubt,

  would sacrifice for each other.

  There were tears in the artist’s eyes as she looked up at him. “I

  know what you want.”

  He had to force the words to come out harshly. “The painting. My

  employer pay for painting. He is not a man to cheat.”

  “Well, he didn’t pay me. Did he pay you, Callie?”

  The woman named Callie shook her head. “Nope. I haven’t had a

  single check come in for a stolen painting.”

  Jennifer nodded his way. “See, big guy, there’s no reason to go all

  Godfather on us—or whatever the Russian equivalent is. I can get you

  your painting, and you can go on your happy way.”

  But it wouldn’t be like that, and Alexei knew it. They couldn’t

  afford to leave these women alive. They would need to kill them,

  stash the bodies, and get out. There was far too much at stake, and this wasn’t some piss-poor, mob-run rural town in Russia where they

  could bribe their way out of anything. Pushkin’s name didn’t mean

  anything here.

  An image of his brother flashed across his brain. Mikhail had been

  a handsome, smiling young man who had never been impatient with

  his brother. He’d taught Alexei with a gentle smile. What would his

  brother think about him killing this woman?

  “Move.” Ivan walked behind them, his gruffness letting Alexei

  know he was growing tired of waiting. “If either one of you makes a

  wrong move, we will kill you both and then start on the crowd. If you

  care at all about the people around you, you will behave.”

  Jennifer slid her arm around his waist. She smiled, though it didn’t

  reach her eyes. “Pretend you’re crazy about me. Otherwise, people

  might wonder why we’re walking so close. We have to get to town

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  hall, you see. We can go in from behind, but there’s a good hundred

  yards before we can move to the alley.”

  Alexei saw what she meant. There were people milling around all

  over the place up ahead of them. He saw the place where she pointed,

  a small road that led to the back of the buildings on their left. “All right. We’re just two couples enjoying the day. You can handle that,

  can’t you, Ivan?”

  “I think so.” Ivan switched to Russian. “Perhaps we can enjoy

  much of the day. I like this one. I think she’s got nice breasts under all the clothes she’s wearing. Let’s get the painting and then go back to

  the motel. We can enjoy their bodies before we kill them, my friend.”

  He could taste the bile in his throat, but forced himself to laugh

  and agree with the man he hated. How much? How much of his own

  soul was he willing to give up? Panic threatened as he started to walk Jennifer toward the opposite side of the road. It was all happening so fast. His life seemed to be coming to a point. His revenge seemed

  further away than ever before, and yet so tantalizingly close. All he had to do was get the painting and take it to Pushkin.

&n
bsp; His feet moved along the ground, the thud in time to his beating

  heart. All he had to do to avenge his gentle brother’s life was kill two women after watching Ivan brutally rape them. All he had to do was

  go against everything his brother ever taught him. All he had to do

  was give up his soul.

  “Hey, Jen! I’ve been looking for you. Did you hear what’s going

  on around here?”

  A man in a cowboy hat strode confidently down the sidewalk.

  “Be very careful,” Alexei whispered. “He really will kill your

  friend.”

  “And you won’t?” Her words were returned quietly.

  That was the question that ran through his head. Could he pull the

  trigger and end an innocent life?

  Jennifer turned on a bright, charming smile. “Hey, James! How

  are you doing today?” She winked at the cowboy who stopped and

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  stared at the four of them. “Callie and I are having fun, if you know

  what I mean.”

  The cowboy’s mouth came open and then closed. Alexei felt a

  thrill of terror that the man would call them out.

  “I thought you were with Stef.” The cowboy’s eyes narrowed in

  obvious anger.

  “I’m with a lot of guys, James. You know that.”

  He shook his head. “Yeah, I heard that, too. And Callie. Biggest

  slut in the county. I thought I was different. I thought I meant

  something to you. I was willing to wait for you to wake up to what a

  creep Stef is, but I won’t watch you go through tourists, too.”

  “You’re an asshole, James,” Callie spat out. “And Jen was right

  not to sleep with you. I was bored when I slept with you.”

  “Bitch.” The cowboy named James stalked off without a

  backward glance.

  Ivan laughed. “Dumb bitches,” he said in Russian. “American

  women are all sluts. Perhaps they will like what we do to them, eh?”

  But Alexei didn’t think so. Alexei got the distinct feeling that

  something was wrong. He moved along anyway, his mind whirling,

  seeking a way out until he knew there wasn’t one.

  You’re the best thing I ever did, Alexei. That was what his brother had said when Alexei had asked if he minded giving up his chance to