Murder and Mistletoe

by Barb Han

  Taking a seat and leaning forward, he thought about the kind of person who would have access to the girls. Someone they’d be comfortable with. Years ago, he’d read in a crime journal that predators usually knew their targets and gained their trust beforehand. That could explain why neither girl showed signs of a struggle. Was there some type of drug involved? Leanne had made a good point about the girls being vulnerable. He couldn’t speak for Clara but Alexandria had been angry. She might’ve acted out of character or put herself in a bad situation.

  The local pharmacist, Larry Wentworth, had been living in the community for three generations. Dalton went to school with his son, Bartholomew. It would take someone strong to lift the girls and Mr. Wentworth had to be in his early sixties. Everything about him was short. Short height. Short legs. Short hands. Due to the fact that he was both short and thin, Dalton doubted he was strong enough to lift the girls, let alone pull off the murders.

  Bartholomew was Dalton’s age and he could be strong enough. Had he married? Dalton thought about the fact that many of his classmates had settled down by now. Even Dade had found love in a stable relationship.

  He and Cadence, the baby of the family, were the only two who were still single.

  Personally, Dalton was nowhere near ready for that kind of commitment. Not until he brought justice to Alexandria’s murderer. Not until he got past the anger he felt toward the Mav. And not until he could feel something in his chest besides anger and betrayal. His mother had disappeared when he was too young to remember her. Alexandria had been taken from him. And the only woman he’d been serious enough about to consider moving in with had walked out days before signing the lease, saying that he was still in love with a ghost.

  Was that true?

  Dalton refocused on the coffee mug, rolling it around in his hands. Alexandria deserved justice.

  What was he missing?

  There was no way Christian had done anything to hurt Clara. It was obvious the kid was head-over-heels in love with her. He was a decent kid, hardworking, with good grades and a solid future. He seemed to have the support of his family. He didn’t fit the stereotype of a murderer, not to mention the fact that the two were on solid ground, according to Christian. He had no reason to hurt her and he would’ve been three years old at the time of Alexandria’s murder.

  Dalton knew that losing her in this way would affect every relationship Christian had with the opposite sex for the rest of his life. It had for him.

  “Can I join you?” Bethany asked from the door, surprising him.

  “Be my guest.” Dalton gestured toward the chair opposite him, the one Leanne had sat in earlier that morning.

  “Thank you.”

  The screen door opened behind him.

  “Got anything to drink out here?” Bethany took the seat and pulled her legs up, wrapping her arms around them.

  “Afraid not.” And she didn’t need anything, especially with the emotional state she’d been in.

  “I can’t imagine what you must think of our family,” she said sheepishly. “We must seem crazy to someone who grew up in such a nice place.”

  “All families have their moments,” he said. “Believe me, ours is just like everyone else’s.”

  “I doubt it,” she said, waving a hand around.

  “Right. The money. Don’t get me wrong, we’re grateful to have food on the table and a roof over our heads. Kids need more than that,” he defended.

  There was an awkward silence.

  “I keep running through everything in my head, and I just can’t imagine Gary doing something like this. He and Clara had their differences, but...” She twisted her fingers together.

  Dalton didn’t speak. This wasn’t the time to play his hand, and she might confess something that could lead them to the killer.

  Bethany rubbed her eyes.

  She released a sob. “It’s possible. I can’t deny it. He wasn’t where he said he’d be the other night.”

  “I know I said it before but I couldn’t be sorrier for your loss,” he said.

  “She was a good girl,” she admitted. “Never got into trouble at school. Well, except when other kids bullied her, and then she’d get called out for talking when she told them to leave her alone. Seems like the teachers here have their favorites, and those kids get away with...” She stopped herself from finishing the sentence as she rubbed her eyes again.

  “This town can be pretty tight. Folks have grown up together and it can be hard to break in,” he said.

  “My Clara was smart and a few kids didn’t seem to like the fact that she made better grades,” she continued.

  “What about that bullying you mentioned? Did any of them make any real threats to her safety?” he asked.

  Bethany shrugged tired shoulders. “She may have mentioned a couple of names of kids who elbowed her into her locker. You know, typical acting up.”

  “Did she tell the principal or talk to a teacher?” From the sounds of it, she was enduring more than standard jokes. It seemed like there were even more ways to make kids miserable these days. Forget the grapevine that ended with a handful of smart-mouthed kids. Now, rumors could be spread via the internet on social media.

  “Said it would only make things worse,” she said.

  “Than what?” he scoffed. And then he really thought about it. High school for someone who didn’t feel like they fit in could be hard. Scratch that. It could be hell. Especially if that person was being bullied. Being in a new environment was never easy.

  He didn’t want to believe it was possible that local kids could’ve been hazing her and not just because that would mean his theory that the cases were linked would go up in smoke. Part of him, and it was a very big part, wanted to believe that kids in Cattle Barge were decent human beings. But he didn’t want to be selfish when a young woman had lost her life. He had to consider the possibility that Clara’s situation had nothing to do with Alexandria’s murder and that even in a small community kids could go unchecked.

  Kids were smart and they could dig up facts on the internet no one else seemed able to. He wouldn’t take anything for granted. As much as he wanted—no, needed—to put Alexandria’s case to rest, he had to make sure the right person was caught and prosecuted.

  Was it possible that a few kids could’ve found out the details of Alexandria’s case? Could Clara’s “suicide” have been staged to look like she’d done it to herself? He’d read some horrific stories about the cruelty of college kids’ hazing pledges to fraternities. Dalton had never been the “join-in” type, and he couldn’t see why anyone would want to be part of a club so badly that they’d be willing to chuck their dignity.

  Guess his independent streak would’ve never allowed him to be that desperate to conform. From what he’d been told about Clara so far, neither was she and he respected her for it. Such a shame that a life could be cut down so young.

  Thinking about his conversation with Bethany caused something to click. He and Leanne might not be able to get to her laptop, but they could check out her profile and recent posts. Maybe there’d be a clue in there, because he was getting frustrated by the lack of anything else to go on.

  And he wondered how reliable any information from Bethany would be.

  “How often have you been taking the medication lately?” Dalton asked.

  “Not much. I just take it when I need it,” she said a little too defensively. Dalton knew on instinct that she was downplaying her usage.

  And that could mean she’d missed a lot of signs.

  At this point, they’d covered Gary well enough. The sheriff was investigating him and Dalton had to believe if there was anything there, Sawmill would see it.

  “What about her father? Have you heard from him?” he asked.

  Bethany seemed taken aback by the questions.

  “He hasn’t bee
n around since Clara was a baby,” she scoffed.

  Opening up to her about his personal life might build a sense of comradery, which in turn could help her relax and open up a bit more. She’d been on the defensive with her sister in every conversation he’d observed so far.

  “Same with my mother,” he admitted.

  Bethany’s eyes widened with shock. “I’m sorry for saying this, but I figured someone who grew up in a place like this would have a perfect life.”

  “Most people think the same thing.”

  “I guess that saying about money not being able to buy happiness is true,” she said before adding, “It’s sure hard to be happy without it, though.”

  “Money isn’t the source of happiness or the root of evil,” he said. “A man only needs enough to put a decent roof over his family and good food on the table. Whatever else he does with it is up to him.”

  Using it to help a decent family in need of a break sure as hell made him feel proud, though. Maybe that was the trick to having money and feeling good about it, sharing it with people who deserved better than what they’d been handed.

  “You don’t think her father knows anything about what happened, do you?” he asked, trying to gauge if she knew about her daughter reaching out. Based on what he knew about their relationship, he didn’t think Clara would have mentioned it to her mother, but there were a lot of spying devices that could be used to monitor texts, social media pages and emails. Most devices or applications were easy enough to find on the internet following a quick search. Privacy wasn’t guaranteed when it came to using technology, no matter how much people felt secure with it.

  “No. He had no interest in her,” she supplied.

  “Even so, he deserves to know what happened to his daughter.” It wasn’t Dalton’s place to tell Bethany that Clara had reached out to her biological father. He and Leanne needed to make an appointment with the sheriff to discuss it, along with a couple of other theories, in order to cover all bases.

  If Sawmill locked on to an idea, he might have a tough time seeing alternatives. If they could shed light on an area that he hadn’t considered and help with the investigation of Clara’s murder, he might just find out what had happened to Alexandria, too.

  And then something must’ve dawned on Bethany, because she squinted her eyes and her lips compressed.

  “I didn’t think much about it at the time, but she mentioned some guy hanging around and giving her the creeps,” she said.

  “Recently?” he asked.

  “She brought it up not long after school started again. I guess that’s why I didn’t think about it the other day,” she supplied. “I should’ve listened to her more.”

  “But she didn’t say anything lately?”

  “No. But that could be my fault.” The familiar pains of guilt darkened her features. “When school started, she got real homesick. Seems like San Antonio was all she could talk about. When she wasn’t singing its praises, she was complaining about everything in Cattle Barge. I didn’t think she was giving it a chance here, so I got on her case pretty hard. I guess I reached a boiling point, you know?” She looked to him for what he interpreted as approval, or maybe just a sign he wasn’t judging her too harshly. Based on her expression and the pain wilting her body, he figured she was doing enough of that on her own.

  “Teenagers can make everything overblown and seem worse than it is,” he said. “You wanted her to give it a chance here.”

  She nodded and seemed grateful for the understanding.

  He remembered enough of his and Dade’s teenage years to know his statement was true, even before Alexandria’s murder.

  A thought struck. Was he remembering all the harsh words and actions of his father while excluding anything good the man had done? It was so easy, especially for a young person, to file someone in the “good” or “bad” category, leaving them there whether they still deserved it or not.

  Dalton could admit that his father had turned a new leaf in recent years. In holding on to his hurt from the past, he’d robbed himself of getting to know the man his father had become.

  “She describe the guy to you?” he asked.

  “No. But I’m not at all surprised with the way I shut her down. She didn’t mention him again or the bullying, but I could see how unhappy she was.” A sob escaped. “I should’ve let her live with one of her friends in San Antonio and then my baby would still be alive.”

  “Hindsight might give us perfect vision, but I can see how much you love Clara,” he defended, knowing she would carry that guilt for the rest of her life. “You didn’t know this would happen, and you can’t blame yourself.”

  Didn’t saying that make him feel like the world’s biggest hypocrite? Hadn’t he been carrying around guilt over Alexandria’s death for the past fourteen years? It had become part of him, squeezing the light out of everything inside him.

  Leanne was breaking down his walls, though. He had no idea what that meant for the future but he wanted to be around her, in her life somehow.

  But could he?

  Was there even room?

  Chapter Fourteen

  Bethany and Hampton were resting. Mila was down for her afternoon nap. Hampton had insisted the baby be allowed to stay in his room and Leanne figured he was most likely missing Clara, so she agreed.

  Walking helped Leanne think when she was stuck and this case had her head spinning.

  Stepping out the back door, she saw Dalton walk into the barn carrying a bag of something. Feed? She followed him, wanting to pick his brain again. He’d been quiet after leaving her alone with Mila.

  “Hello?” she said as she stepped inside the partially opened door.

  “In here,” he responded, and she could tell that he was in one of the horse stalls.

  “I figured a barn on a ranch like this would be booming,” she said.

  “Not at this time of day. Everyone’s out taking care of the cattle, checking fences and making necessary repairs.”

  “This one’s beautiful.” She walked over to the mare.

  “This old gray mare?” he asked with a smile, and she could see how much pride he had in the horse. “Name’s Lizzie. She’s mine. Rescued her from Lone Star Park after a trainer took pity on her when she lost a race and then found out she had health problems.”

  “What did her owner say?” she balked.

  “He wanted her euthanized. Billy ‘Big Heart’ Willy slipped her out the back door, looking for someone, anyone, who promised not to race her again. He’d lose his job if his boss saw her on the track again.” He patted her on her long neck. “She’s been with me six years with no signs of slowing down.”

  Lizzie looked like she was actually smiling.

  “I feel like I should know more about horses growing up in Texas. There aren’t a lot of barns where I grew up in east Dallas,” she confessed. “I know you were born into ranching, but is it what you wanted to do?”

  “Yes. There’s something about being on the land, working with my hands that makes me feel alive. I’ve always known my place was at Hereford,” he admitted. “What about you? Did you always want to be a cop?”

  “Me? No. Not until I was a teenager and lost my mother. I started getting serious about my future then. We shared a small apartment and whenever we were home at the same time, which was rare, we were climbing on top of each other.” She smiled at the fond memory. “I decided that I wanted a career with a solid future.”

  “I guess we both lost people we loved early in life.”

  Was that part of the pull she felt toward the handsome cowboy?

  “The two of you were close,” he acknowledged.

  “We were more like sisters, because she was a young mother and we were figuring it all out together,” she said. “Times were hard but we made it through.”

  In losing her moth
er, she realized that she’d lost her belief in people being good. Letting anyone truly get close to her afterward had been off the table.

  She stood there, looking into his eyes and she could feel the change in temperature. Her thighs heated as they locked gazes. Her pulse pounded. And rational thought blew out the window.

  He stood there like he was debating his next move.

  Which lasted for all of about a minute until he stalked toward her, brought his hands to cradle her neck and then kissed her.

  She could taste coffee on his lips as he deepened the kiss.

  This time, any resistance faded, her mind quieted and her body ached with need as he pulled her flush against his solid wall of a chest. Her breasts swelled and her nipples beaded as his hands slid underneath her blouse and cupped her lacy bra.

  Heat engulfed them as urgency roared, building with a tempo she’d never experienced before.

  She pulled back enough to say, “Don’t stop this time, Dalton.”

  It was all the encouragement he seemed to need, as she pressed her fingertips into his shoulders. Tilting her head toward his gave him better access to her mouth and his tongue lunged inside.

  He made a guttural groaning noise from low in his throat, and it was the sexiest sound she’d ever heard.

  She dropped her hands and started unbuttoning her blouse. Her body had so much pent-up need that her fingers trembled. Dalton joined her and helped her out of her shoulder holster and shirt before walking her to an office across the hall.

  The room was the size of two horse pens. Concrete flooring was covered with a soft rug. Furnishings were simple. Across from a handmade desk and chair stood a comfortable-looking leather love seat.

  Leanne placed her shoulder holster with her weapon on top of the desk along with her shirt. She kicked her mules off before unsnapping her bra and shrugging out of it. Next, she shimmed out of the borrowed jeans, taking her lacy underwear off in the same motion.

  When she looked up at Dalton again, he was completely naked and her pulse skyrocketed at the sight of him. Anticipation mounted as he stood there, looking at her, appreciating her. It had been a very long time since she’d felt adored by a man, maybe never. Certainly not with this level of intensity.