Colton's Killer Pursuit

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  “There’s one in particular...” He couldn’t go into those details; they had nothing to do with her, and Melissa didn’t want it to get out that there could be a serial killer in Grave Gulch. Not yet. She was hoping to catch the bastard before he had a chance to kill again. She didn’t want to tip him off that they had him dead to rights.

  “In fact, from what I’ve seen so far, they all had to do with murders...”

  So, what was it that made Bowe lock up innocent people and let murderers go free?

  “Do you know a guy named Len Davison?” he asked her. “Or Drew Orr? Maybe they were customers at Howlin’ Eddie’s?”

  She shook her head. “I’ve never heard of either of them. Were they murdered, too? Or did Bowe meddle with their evidence?”

  “I can’t say, really. Orr is dead now, anyway—my sister, Melissa, shot him in self-defense. Just wondered if you knew of either one of them.”

  “No. Could be they frequented the health spa,” she offered. “Fritz used to keep a pretty good list of his clients—though, from what I’ve been told, recently they were mostly women. And not all just for his pleasure. He was particularly good with older women, patient, able to get them to stick to routines because he designed programs that were accessible, set achievable goals, and also because he made them feel good about themselves.”

  Again, there was no bitterness in her tone. Glancing her way as he finally got a green light and moved slowly forward in the traffic that had stacked up, Clarke wanted in. He wanted to know how she did it. How she stayed so...impartial. Seeming to see both sides to everything.

  Except about her grandmother, of course.

  “Do you mind if I have an officer swing by your house and pick up Fritz’s computer so the GGPD tech guy, Ellie, can get a look at it?” he asked her.

  “Of course not.”

  And while he was at it... “Will you also give me permission to search his phone records?”

  “Yes.”

  Good. He’d have plenty of work to do to keep his mind busy—and off her—until party time.

  The car’s system was a little different from his own, and though he’d already paired his phone, he pushed the wrong button while trying to make a call and ended up missing his turn. Not a big deal, he could go around the block, just didn’t like having Everleigh out any more than necessary. His course was firmly set as the shortest distance between two points.

  He’d made the requests and hung up by the time he was able to right the error and make the correct turn. A red car, a newer-looking small SUV, turned when he did. Which was odd. It had been behind him, a few yards back, at the long light, too. During his time there, he’d taken an inventory of all the vehicles on all four corners. The odd thing was, he’d missed a turn. Was just doubling back. Why would someone else be mimicking his mistakes?

  “Get down.” The words were an unmistakable order.

  Everleigh complied immediately, ducking first and then actually turning to her side and half lying on the console. Bringing her head close enough that he could feel a brush against his side. Resisting the urge to use his body to shield her, only because he needed both hands on the wheel, he quickly did an illegal U-turn and then turned again. He’d thought he’d lost the other car for a minute, when his continued rearview-mirror glances vetted nothing, but then it was there again. Several cars back. Too many for him to make out any kind of identifying markers. He knew it was the same vehicle, though, because the passenger sun visor was at an odd angle: halfway down. He couldn’t make out a driver. Couldn’t even see if the person was wearing a ski mask or not.

  “We’re being followed,” he let Everleigh know. And put in a quick call to his sister, too. And then he just drove. Not to his place, or anywhere in particular. He stayed in traffic, in the downtown area, a part of the city with a lot of police presence, waiting for the car to be pulled over. But as soon as he’d passed the turn to his condo, the red SUV seemed to have disappeared. He’d lost it in traffic, behind a Chevy Suburban—a vehicle almost twice its size—and when his view was clear again, his pursuer was gone.

  His concern was not.

  Chapter 10

  Everleigh’s heart was still pounding as Clarke pulled into his condo garage. He’d had her stay down until they were safely inside, and she shot up as soon as he gave her the all clear, determining that she preferred to face what came head-on, not hide any more than she had to.

  How could she hope to defend herself if she couldn’t see what was coming at her?

  She knew there were major fallacies in her argument—didn’t want a bullet in the head, nor could she protect herself from one even if she saw it coming—but she’d just learned something about herself. She wasn’t going to run away. She was going to stand and fight.

  Even if that meant spending time in close quarters and a fake intimate relationship with a man who was wreaking havoc on everything she knew about herself. Or wanted for herself.

  Clarke’s phone rang before he’d even turned off the car. “Yeah,” he said succinctly. “We’re in, all good.”

  And then, as he was looking around them and unbuckling his seat belt, he added, “Good. Thanks. Let me get her inside and I’ll call you back. We need to rethink her going to that party tonight.”

  Her. Her?

  Like she wasn’t a fully capable and functioning adult, in charge of her own life, sitting right there? Had he forgotten she’d hired him? Yeah, at his suggestion, coming from his sister, the chief of police. And, yeah, she needed his help. But...she had a say.

  For the rest of her life, every breath she took, she would have a say.

  And she was going to the party at her mother’s that night.

  Wise enough to understand that they needed their wits about them as they exited the car, and that the faster they got up to his place the better, she held her tongue until they were locked safely inside his condominium. And he did a quick sweep of the place.

  Though, with the twenty-four-hour security of the building, she wasn’t a bit surprised when he joined her at the base of the stairs to tell her that everything was fine.

  She nodded, her hand on the banister, intending to head to her room to freshen up her makeup and fix her hair before heading out to her mother’s.

  “I have to call my sister back,” he said as he stood there, blocking her way. “And then we need to talk, so can you hang on a second?”

  She could. But she wasn’t going to. “No,” she said. “And maybe you should think about talking to me before you call her back,” she said, welcoming the anger that surged in place of fear. Anger felt...stronger. “You helping me might have been your idea, but I agreed to hire you. I’m paying you whether you want me to or not, and you can throw the money away if you wish...”

  “We can talk about that later,” he said, sounding a tad bit impatient. His tone didn’t slow the rush of her anger a bit. Something else she noted as odd. Generally, the ire of others calmed her immediately. Like her job was to keep the peace.

  She had something much more vital to focus on at the moment, though: her right to direct what happened in her own life.

  “I’m not done,” she told him. “I heard what you said in the car and I am going to the party tonight. Even if I have to fire you.” Her gut lurched, knowing she meant the words. Knowing, too, the risk they put her in if he quit on her.

  She just needed her own autonomy more.

  “I don’t want to fire you. I need your help. But you’ve said that you think Fritz’s killer and whoever is after me could be there tonight. I need this to end. I need to get my life back and I need to be instrumental in doing that.”

  “What good is your life going to be to you if you’re dead?”

  “About the same as it is if I’m not in control of it.”

  His stare was not kind. Or gentle. It was pointed. Searing. She didn’t flinch.
Or back away. In fact, her chin lifted a bit as she glared back at him.

  “Are you telling me that you were wrong? That you don’t think the killer will be there tonight?” she asked. “Or that you don’t feel you have a good chance, the quickest chance, of finding out what’s going on, if you’re there?”

  “No. But I might have misjudged the danger to you in going to the party,” he said.

  “And I might have misjudged the danger to you in hiring you,” she shot back. “I’m like a time bomb and you’re right beside me. If I explode, you could die, too. Or be badly hurt.” It wasn’t like he’d be any more capable of stopping a flying bullet aimed at them than she would.

  His gaze softened, and as soon as she knew he relented, she deflated to the point of needing to sit down. She didn’t, of course. She stood her ground as he said, “Fine, we’ll go, but you follow my instructions the entire time or I’m out of there.”

  “That’s fair.” She had mentioned how his life was at stake, too, by association with her.

  “I need to call my sister. We had a police escort into the garage, with them checking things out before we got here, and they’ll want to arrange the same to and from the party tonight.”

  Everleigh secretly felt glad to know he wouldn’t be on his own that night. It had just dawned on her, in the midst of this argument, that by helping her, Clarke really was putting his life in as much danger as hers was. She was also frightened all over again.

  “All of this extra-man-hour pay just for me?” she asked. The department owing her for a wrongful conviction was one thing, but two months out of a barmaid’s life wouldn’t amount to the kind of dollars the GGPD had seemed willing to spend on her behalf. People like her didn’t rate attention like that. She wasn’t even sure people like him rated that kind of spending. Grave Gulch was only so big, which meant that the police department had only so many resources. It wasn’t like they were in some big fancy city that could produce extra personnel with just a phone call.

  “Yes,” he told her. “The department screwed up and they will make it right for you. It’s bigger than that, too, and they want justice done, but the commitment to see you through to safety came before anyone knew that.”

  Bigger. He was referring to his meeting that morning. To the things he hadn’t been able to tell her. But some he had...

  “Because of Bowe.”

  “Yes. The FBI is involved now.”

  “And you’re sure that doesn’t have anything to do with why I’m in danger?”

  His shrug might not have been much of an answer, but to Everleigh, the honesty in his reaction provided the reassurance she’d been seeking. “We can’t be sure of anything until we have proof,” he said. “But based on all evidence, there is nothing to point us in the direction of Bowe having targeted you for any particular reason. However, I am actively and diligently looking into any connections between you and others who were either hurt or helped by Randall Bowe.”

  She nodded. Satisfied.

  And needed to get herself freshened up. It was going to be hard enough to walk into a room of traitors who claimed to love her—and who, she knew, did, but didn’t trust her, people she loved but no longer trusted—without feeling like a used dishrag.

  She wanted the filth of Fritz’s bachelor pad off her skin. The scent out of her nose. If only she could wipe him out of the past eighteen years of her life as easily. Except that then she wouldn’t be the woman she’d grown to be. Wouldn’t be as strong. Wouldn’t have spent her life helping to better and brighten the days of those who still lived in the neighborhood where she’d grown up.

  In the past two months she’d gotten to know that woman better than she ever had before.

  And wouldn’t change who she’d become for anything.

  * * *

  Clarke did not have a good feeling about the evening ahead. He figured being there early would give him time to get a look at everyone in attendance—even those who didn’t stay long.

  In black jeans and a bulky off-white pullover sweater that would allow him to wear his gun without attracting attention to it, he’d put on the cologne he usually wore only when going out and his nicest ankle-high black leather boots, preparing for a tough night of work.

  Starting the second he met up with Everleigh in the living room. She hadn’t changed clothes but looked completely freshened up. The addition of big hoop earrings was a bit of a surprise. They gave her a louder, more adventurous look, but he liked it. Too much for the challenge he was facing.

  He jumped right in. “We’ve got to make this...us together...believable,” he told her, in a tone meant to brook no argument. Taking her to the party at all was costing him greatly, with his instincts hammering at him to lock her in the condo. Protective instincts he hadn’t known he had were suddenly popping up faster than he could shoot them down. “If whoever is after you is there, they’ll be more watchful than you’d expect. And we already know whoever it is is taking risks we wouldn’t expect, not thinking rationally... There’s no telling what they might do if provoked...”

  He didn’t like scaring her, but he liked it better than her being dead.

  “Your husband’s only been gone a couple of months. You’ve been in jail for pretty much all of that time. If we expect anyone to believe we’re together, we have to get our story straight and then live it as though it’s real.”

  She’d been married eighteen years. Hadn’t kissed another man in all that time until the day before. The fact that she actually had kissed Clarke back worked in their favor. He needed her to convince others that being with him made her different...made her want to date again. Whatever had prompted her to move her mouth against his could go a long way in convincing her family that she really had feelings for Clarke.

  And that kiss had complicated his plan to keep an emotional distance between them. He’d dreamed of her the night before. And had woken up hard.

  Twice.

  But the plan to get past that was not impossible. He hoped to God, anyway.

  The fact that he’d been the first man she’d kissed in that amount of time, other than the slime who’d done her so wrong, brought out the he-man in him. The one who wanted to claim her and take her to bed and show her how good he could help her feel. And the fact also made him nervous as hell. Could a woman who’d been faithful for so long, even after her husband had moved out, pull off the fiction of a sudden love affair?

  She hadn’t said a word. Was watching him, though. “What?” he asked. Trying to prepare for whatever argument she was working up was exhausting resources he needed to keep her alive.

  “I’m just waiting for the story,” she said, her tone soft. Almost gentle. “I told you that you call the shots, that I follow instructions. I’m going to the party as I need to do. The rest is yours.”

  His mouth fell open—mostly because he opened it to speak and nothing came out. Just when he thought he had her figured out, she threw him off balance again.

  “It would be best if we come up with the backstory together,” he explained. “That’s what I was after. These people know you. You need to tell me how it is that you’ve come to be involved with me, describe us to me as you would see it. That’s the only way we’ll be able to get people who’ve known and loved you your whole life to believe us.”

  Her snort wasn’t ladylike, but it was damn cute. The look in her eye wasn’t as she said, “Are you kidding me? The GGPD say I’m a murderer and they were convinced just like that...”

  He swallowed back the compassion that arose. And said, “This is different, Everleigh. You’ve been through a lot. They let you down. Those who truly care about you are going to be watching you closely, and being extra careful around you, wanting to help...”

  She shrugged. Adjusted the skinny long strap of the small purse she had on her shoulder and reached for the coat she’d left on the freestanding rack at h
is front door.

  “We met while I was in prison,” she told him. “You didn’t believe I committed the murder and came to see me. That’s why, when the GGPD took another look at the case, they gave you access to Bowe’s files, and since you’d already studied the evidence collected by CSI, you were able to help prove the discrepancy. We were already developing feelings for each other while I was in prison, and when I got out, things escalated quickly. You’ve made me feel more alive than I’ve ever felt in my life. And bring out emotions in me I didn’t know I had.”

  His mouth dry, Clarke couldn’t swallow, let alone reply. His entire body was on alert, his penis growing, his heart pounding.

  “You asked what would convince them,” she said, buttoning her coat over her purse. “If you don’t like my fairy tale, make up one of your own, tell me what you want me to say, and I’ll sell it to them. I really don’t care about the story, Clarke. I just want to get there and get this over with.”

  Right. She’d been coming up with a story she thought her family would believe. Not bringing his previous night’s fantasy to life in stunning clarity.

  What in the hell was the matter with him? He’d been asking himself that question way too often since she’d come into his life and he’d better find an answer quick. And then fix whatever the problem was.

  “I think your story is good,” he told her, covering his groin with his own coat. Grabbing his keys. “Whatever you’d say, that’s what we need. Something that comes from you.”

  No way he could come up with anything else at the moment. And truth was, if he’d believed her there for a moment...actually thinking that she’d suddenly chosen that moment to confess what she’d been feeling since their kiss the day before, as though its memory had been haunting her life, too...when he knew it to be a lie...then chances were good her family and friends would believe her.

  In the elevator, he stood right next to her, and when the car started downward, he put an arm around her shoulders, hugging her to him. She stiffened immediately.