Cowboy Famous: Book 4 (Cowboy Justice Association) (28 page)

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“You’re late,” stated Logan as Griffin and Reed strode into the roadhouse. “Didn’t you get my texts?”

“We did and then ignored them,” Reed laughed. “We were on our way already. Don’t get pissy. We stopped off and took a look at the hunting cabin north of Hope Lake.”

“And?” Tanner prompted, leaning forward to grab one of the sodas from the middle of the table. “Any luck?”

Griffin shook his head in disgust and frustration. He was sick and tired of coming up empty at every turn. “Another bust. The place looked like it hadn’t seen another human being in forever. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust. Nothing disturbed or out of place either. It’s not our scene. That leaves the Rinehart place. If it’s not our kill site then I’m plain out of ideas.”

“You’ll get this,” Seth assured him. “We’ll help all we can.”

Sighing, Griffin popped open a can of soda and shook his head. “It pisses me off that someone can stroll into my town, commit a murder, and then laugh behind my back.”

“Doubt he’s laughing,” commented Jared, who was sitting at the end of the long table. “He’s probably scared to death of being caught. He’ll trip up and you’ll get him. But you need to stop making this personal. That will get you nowhere.”

Griffin rubbed his temple where a headache had bloomed after his conversation with Jazz. It seemed like he couldn’t do anything right lately. “You’re right, but sometimes it feels personal.”

“Unless your half-brother kills your father because the man murdered his own wife, and then your mother…no, it’s not personal.”

It was good Logan could kind of joke about what happened to him. Of course, having Ava was a major consolation prize.

“When you say it that way,” Griffin laughed as his phone started vibrating and beeping with an incoming email. “Shit, sorry about that.”

Pressing a few buttons, his heart started to pound as he looked at the sender. The crime lab.

Fucking finally.

“It’s the lab. Hold on, let me read the report.”

He opened the attachment and scanned the contents. A myriad of emotions began to churn in his gut as the results of each test were revealed one by one.

“Well,” Reed prompted. “What does it say?”

Taking a deep breath, Griffin read the report. “Tony Albright’s DNA matches the sperm collected from Sandy, but does not match the skin under her fingernails.”

“So Albright’s not your guy.” Tanner’s mouth turned down. “Sorry, man.”

Griffin kept reading. “Hairs and blood belonging to the deceased were found in the back of one of the crew vans. While crew fingerprints were found, neither Albright’s nor Schofield’s prints were found.”

Logan frowned. “Wait. So one of the crew did it? But I thought they all had an alibi. Although the killer could have worn gloves, so the lack of evidence could be meaningless. And who is Schofield?”

“Gordon, the assistant. And the crew do have solid alibis,” Griffin said grimly. “But there’s more.”

“The DNA under the deceased’s fingernails was placed into the system for comparison and it matched another sample.”

“Excellent.” Jared slapped the table top with a grin. “Who’s our killer?”

“The unknown assailant of Casey Charlock.”

Griffin placed the phone down and looked around the room at five of the best lawmen he’d ever known. They looked as sucker-punched as he felt.

“Say that again,” Tanner said. “Casey and Sandy were murdered by the same person? How is that possible? Casey was killed months ago and these people came into town recently.”

“So someone in Hope Lake killed them both?” Seth’s expression was puzzled, his gaze darting back and forth as his mind worked on the question. “But why? What do the two women have in common? This doesn’t make any sense.”

That was true. Or was it? Casey and Sandy were both attractive young women who had been strangled and their bodies dumped away from the kill site.

“I don’t have any evidence that Sandy had any interaction with the people of Hope Lake. None at all. So if someone from the reality show killed Sandy then they had to be in Hope Lake when Casey was killed,” Griffin intoned, mostly to himself. Something was niggling in the corner of his brain. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. What was it that Tony had said that day?

Gordon and I scout locations for our reality shows months in advance…

“Jared? Do you have your laptop with you?” Griffin’s mind was going a mile a minute, his body pumping with adrenaline.

“It’s in the truck. What do you need?”

“I need you to check out Gordon Schofield’s credit cards. See if he was anywhere near Hope Lake at the time of Casey’s murder. Hell, while you’re at it, see if there are any unsolved murders in the towns where he’s visited in the last couple of years.”

“I’m on it.” Jared disappeared out of the front door of the roadhouse but Griffin didn’t need the computer search. He knew with a growing certainty deep in his gut what Jared was going to find.

Unbeknownst to Griffin, Gordon had been in Hope Lake nine months ago scouting the location. He, for whatever reason, had killed Casey and now Sandy. Gordon was a stone cold killer.

Chapter Twenty-Two

G
riffin’s map in hand and the radio blaring, Jazz drove the truck down the almost deserted road. It was midday and the sun was high in the sky. A great day for a drive. It was such a luxury to be on roads that didn’t boast of bumper to bumper traffic and exhaust fumes. She could get used to something like this.

That was the elephant in the corner of the room she’d been ignoring this week. Since coming to Hope Lake and meeting Griffin, her life in California wasn’t looking all that great. The chances of her ever making it in show business were slim, and even if she did would that make her happy? Being here and followed by the press had shown her that notoriety wasn’t the glamorous, wonderful thing she’d thought it would be. It turned out she was more private than she’d ever believed.

Living with Griffin also hadn’t been the ordeal she’d imagined. For all his bluster about not liking his routine messed with, he was pretty laid back. They found common ground easily, both of them knowing when to give in. If something was important to Griffin, Jazz would gracefully let him win. But when he saw that something was important to her, he would defer to her wishes.

Damn it all, she was pretty sure she was in love with him. She didn’t want to be because it was all too complicated and messy but she might not have any choice.

He simply might be
the one
.

The engine coughed and sputtered and the truck began to slow down, losing acceleration quickly. A glance at the dashboard had her cursing a blue streak. The gas gauge showed empty but she could swear she started out with three-quarters of a tank. What kind of mileage did this thing get?

Pulling the truck off to the side of the road, she put the vehicle in park, all the while muttering under her breath. She reached into her purse for her phone but then groaned in realization. Her phone was at a crime lab in Missoula.

Well, shit.

Pushing open the driver’s door, she walked around to the back of the vehicle to look into the bed of the truck for a gas can. Climbing onto the back bumper, she was able to see the completely clean – and empty – truck bed.

Double shit.

The sound of an oncoming car had her jumping down to the ground and waving her hands. Maybe she could flag down a motorist and use their phone to call Griffin. She wasn’t stupid enough to get into a stranger’s car although everyone she’d met since coming to Montana had been very friendly and helpful.

Elated as the car slowed down, she was surprised to see Gordon behind the wheel. He had a briefcase on the seat beside him but was dressed casually.

“Hey!” she greeted him as he rolled down the passenger window so she could lean in. “I’m so glad to see you. I think I ran out of gas. Can you let me use your phone?”

“I can do you one better. I think I have a gas can in the trunk that’s full. The rental agency was very thorough. Gas stations are far apart in Montana.”

Jazz performed an internal fist pump. She could get back on the road right away and still talk to Tonya. There was an exit just five miles up the road. She could fill up the tank the rest of the way there.

Gordon popped the trunk and rummaged through its contents. “Yes, here it is. Nice and full.”

She walked to the back of his car where Gordon was holding up a gas can. “I can’t thank you enough,” she sighed, letting some of the tension drain from her body.

“I’m sorry, Jazz. But I can’t let you talk to Tonya.”

She didn’t have time to react to his knowing about Casey’s friend and where she was going. Gordon reared back with the metal can and swung it forward, catching the side of her face and temple. The world spun as pain exploded in her head and her hands went out instinctively to keep herself from going down. Her heart thumped in her chest and sweat broke out over her entire body as she struggled to stay conscious.

Her fingers clawed at the solid metal of the car but she could feel herself falling as if in slow motion. The breath was sucked from her body and her vision turned a mottled gray before spots of black danced in front of her eyes.

*   *   *   *

Griffin pulled his SUV in front of the hotel and hopped out. His friends were right behind him having offered to help in Gordon’s arrest. Griffin hoped the man would come along quietly, without any fuss, but he’d been doing this too long to count on it. Having some extra hands that were highly experienced to boot could only help. If Gordon tried to run, they’d be right behind him.

When Jared had searched for unsolved murders of young women, there had been several in towns that Gordon had visited. The dates from his credit cards matched up to the time frames of the crimes. There was a good chance Gordon Schofield was a serial killer.

Griffin could only be glad that Jazz was out of town talking to Tonya. If the arrest didn’t go well, she would be far away from any danger.

He stopped at the hotel office to talk to the manager who hadn’t seen Gordon in over an hour and the room had been empty when the maid cleaned. Griffin told the manager to stay put while they visited Gordon’s room, but if he wasn’t there they would need the room unlocked.

“Tanner, Seth, and Logan, you guys take the back in case he tries to run. We’ll take the front. Hopefully I can arrest him without any problems.”

The three lawmen rounded the building as Griffin, Jared, and Reed approached room number five cautiously. Pulling his gun from its holster, he shoved himself against the building on one side of the door frame while Jared and Reed did the same on the other side. Griffin reached out his arm and knocked loudly.

“Hope Lake Police,” he yelled through the door. “Open up.”

There was no sound from inside the room. Griffin knocked and announced himself again, waiting silently and not moving. Finally Griffin shook his head and lowered his weapon, frustration and adrenaline pumping through his veins, but steps behind him made him raise it again. His adrenaline surging, he whirled around and came face to face with the hotel manager.

“Whoa, it’s just me,” the man joked, holding his hands in the air. “The maid just stopped by the office and said she saw Mr. Schofield driving west not long ago. Do you still want me to open his door for you?”

“Yes, please.” Griffin relaxed, blew out a breath, and holstered his weapon.

“What kind of car was he driving?” Griffin would put out a BOLO for the whole county along with the warning that Gordon could be armed and dangerous. A man facing multiple murder counts wouldn’t want to be arrested.

The manager frowned. “One of those nondescript rental cars. White. Four doors. Maybe a Ford or a Chevy. Mid-sized. Can I help in any way?”

“Just keep your eyes open. If you see him, call the station. Do not engage him. He might be dangerous.”

Brows raised, the manager nodded and unlocked the door. “All these show business people seem a little strange.”

Reed sidled up next to Griffin, holstering his weapon. “What do you want to do now? Where do you think he was going?”