Shadow of Danger (27 page)

“Don’t pussyfoot around, tell him,” Roy said.

Winston whipped his gaze to Roy. “Tell me what?”

John looked to the sheriff, knowing he was right. Enough time had been wasted. “Garrett, Hoyt was blackmailed into killing you.”

Winston’s red-rimmed eyes flickered with pain and betrayal before fresh tears spilled from them. “That don’t make no sense.”

“That’s what we thought at first, until we found two more victims.”

“One of them had been sodomized before being gutted and tossed in a lake,” Roy said, his tone dripping with disgust. “The other had been found near the mill in Tilden. You know the place don’t you? ‘Cause according to Booker Foods, Tilden was part of your truck route.”

“The thing about that victim,” John added. “She wasn’t stabbed, but strangled, just like the women you’d dumped in Wissota Falls.”

Winston closed his eyes and actually whimpered like a dog. “Please, I don’t want to hear any
more.”

“But we’re just getting to the good part,” Roy said with sarcasm.

“That’s right, Garrett. See, that second girl, she’d been raped by
two
different men.”

Winston opened his eyes wide, and stared at him in shock.

“Evidence, Garrett,” John began. “DNA, fibers, hair samples, one set was yours.” He shrugged as he lied. Other than a hunch and Celeste’s trances, they had zero evidence against Winston, or even a second killer. “And I’m betting the other belongs to your
partner.
”

“I...I work alone,” Winston sputtered.

“Then explain the evidence. Explain why you’re here.” John slammed his hand on the bedrail. “We know you were working with someone, why would you protect him? Why would you confess and spend life in prison while he roams free? And why would you continue to keep your mouth shut when
he’s
the one that blackmailed Hoyt into trying to kill you?”

Winston’s face crumpled as a sob tore through him.

“Damn it, Garrett. Do you want God’s forgiveness? Do you want deliverance and salvation for what you’ve done?”

“Yes,” he hissed.

“Then start here. Start now.”

“I...I can’t,” he cried, bawling like a baby.

“He wants you dead. What do you know about him?”

Covering his face with his hands, Winston sniveled and blubbered, rocking his body as far as the IV and handcuff would allow. “How could he?” he muttered over and over beneath his hands.

“
Who?
” John demanded. “Garrett, who did this to you?”

Winston tore his hands away and fisted the sheets. Veins bulged in his neck as his pale, bruised face become crimson with anger. “My fucking brother,” he screamed, then in a frenzied fit of rage, he ripped the IV from his arm. Blood trickled from his wrist and splattered onto the white sheet as he tore at the sensors stuck to his chest.

John and Roy both jumped back as Winston lunged. “I’ve got to get out of here,” he shouted.

Three nurses raced into the room, followed by Winston’s doctor who ordered, “Strap him down, we need to sedate him.”

“No,” Winston growled as he tried to untangle his legs from the sheets. “I’ll kill him for this! I’ll kill that bastard so he can’t kill again.”

The doctor helped two of the nurses pin him down as the other nurse took a syringe to Winston’s arm. Within seconds, Winton slumped against the bed, his eyes rolling back, his breathing harsh and ragged. Then he was out cold.

Wiping sweat from his brow and drawing in deep breaths, the doctor turned to them. “Leave. He’ll be out for hours. Besides, I need to make sure he didn’t damage any of his sutures, and probably give him a few stitches.”

As he pocketed the tape recorder, John looked to the small gash on Winston’s arm where the IV had once been. “We’ll be back tomorrow.”

“I expected as much.” He ushered them into the hallway. “Call me before you come in,” he said, and handed Roy his card. “I don’t know if whatever happened today will affect him tomorrow. No sense on you wasting a trip if he’s not lucid.”

“Thanks, Doc,” Roy said.

As they walked through the hospital corridors, the sheriff kept shifting his gaze toward him, a smirk beneath his mustache. Once they’d reached the parking garage, John stopped him.

“What?”

“I can picture the headlines if the media catches wind of this,” Roy began chuckling. “The Crybaby Killer.”

“God, you have a sick sense of humor,” John said with a grin. “Is that what you were coming up with while I was interrogating Winston?”

“You call that an interrogation? ‘Do you want God’s forgiveness? Do you want deliverance and salvation?’” Roy’s bark of laughter echoed throughout the parking garage. “Hell, you’d have made a mighty fine preacher. I was waiting for you to get all fire and brimstone on his ass.”

Laughing with him, grateful for a release from the tension he’d endured during their time with Winston, John climbed into the cruiser. As he slammed the car door shut, he sobered and looked at the sheriff, who gave him a solemn nod.

“You did good, kid. We might not have gotten the name of his partner, but we’ve got ourselves a lead.”

“His brother,” he said, as he retrieved his cell phone. He needed Rachel and her research skills.

“How can two men decide to rape and kill together?” Roy asked as he drove out of the parking garage. “I’ve got a couple of brothers, and couldn’t even imagine it.”

“That’s because you’re not a sociopath, and I’m assuming, neither are your brothers.” He punched in Rachel’s number, but didn’t place the call as a thought occurred to him. “I think our answers to why they committed the murders are buried in their past. I already had Rachel perform a background check on Winston, and there wasn’t any mention of siblings.”

“What about a fraternity brother or brother at arms?”

John shook his head. “Winston never went to college or joined the military.” He hit send and waited for Rachel to answer.

“Hi, John. How’s things hanging in Wis
con
sin? Did you receive the rest of the data I sent?”

“Hey, Rachel, no I didn’t. The sheriff and I just left the hospital after interrogating Winston.”

“Holy crap, he’s awake? He better not have rolled over and confessed everything after all the work I’ve done for you.”

“You’re a real riot. I love how it always comes back to you. And no, unfortunately your efforts weren’t undermined by a quick confession.”

“Damn, that’s too bad,” she said, with genuine disappointment. “Did he give you anything?”

“That’s why I’m calling. Winston claims his partner is his brother.”

“I found no siblings when I did his background check. Could he have meant ‘brother’ figuratively?”

“The sheriff suggested that, and it’s possible, but I’d still like you to dig deeper. Maybe you can look into—”

“His parents’ past, see if there are any half-brothers lurking around, maybe with a different last name, gotcha.”  

“When did you become a mind reader?”

She half-laughed. “It’s a side-effect from pencil lead. I’ll see what I can dig up for you. Be safe.”

Smiling, he shoved his phone back into his pocket.

“Look at you, friendly with a psychic and now a mind reader,” Roy said as he glanced at him.

“Rachel’s a real piece of work. But if anybody can find out what we need, she can.”

“So...how
friendly
are you with this Rachel?”

“Not like how I think you’re implying.”

“And Celeste?”

Damn. He knew this was coming, but he’d hoped to avoid the overprotective, surrogate dad routine with Roy. “Since you’re sheriff in these here parts,” he drawled. “I already know you own a gun. If you want to know something, why don’t you ask me straight?” 

With a chuckle, Roy turned toward Wissota Falls. “Okay.”

A minute passed, then another. “Okay what?”

Roy shrugged. “You know I own a gun, you’re involved with Celeste, so the way I figure, at this point asking anything else seems redundant. Don’t you think?” He parked in front of the Sheriff’s Department, and cut the ignition. “C’mon, let’s eat some cold pizza and finish researching all that stuff your gal Rachel keeps sending us. I want to cut out early. Bev and I have a hot date tonight. How ‘bout you?” he asked as they walked into the building.

John frowned. What about him? Maybe he should be asking Celeste to go out with him on an actual date. She deserved to be wined and dined. Romanced. Maybe a quiet, candlelit dinner for two at a cozy restaurant. A place where they could talk about their future, and definitely
not
about the investigation. Sure, he’d tell her about today. He loved hearing her take on things and including her in his job. But he also wanted to learn more about her, about her thoughts, of them...of their future.

And he did want a future with Celeste. Some way, somehow. He’d never been in love, but whatever he was feeling for her was the real deal. Of that he was certain because there was no way in hell he’d walk away, then spend the rest of his life lonely and wondering. He stopped Roy before they entered his office. “Where’s a good place to eat
besides
The Sugar Shack?”

Roy gave him a big grin and clapped him on the shoulder. “Thought you’d never ask.”

Chapter 20

After a hot shower, Celeste threw on a t-shirt and a pair of panties, glanced at the clock, then her bed. She had an hour and a half before John would arrive for their first, official date, and after a little indecision, she crawled under the covers for a quick catnap.

Unfortunately, even though exhausted, she couldn’t keep her eyes closed. Staring at the ceiling fan as it spun in lazy circles, her mind raced. She never would have imagined today turning out the way it had when she’d woken at the crack of dawn to do her baking.

Ian Scott had more than shocked her. He’d pulverized everything she’d known about her life and family. Her mom had been kidnapped. She’d been pregnant with her but not by the man she’d called dad her whole life. Her dad had been former FBI, as had Roy, who’d been placed in Wissota Falls to keep watch over her. So many secrets, so many deceptions.

She’d wanted to toss Ian out on his ass when he’d first dropped the bomb that he was her biological father. She’d wanted to hate him for ruining everything she’d ever believed about her family. But after Roy left and she talked with Ian, she began to realize none of this had been Ian’s fault. He hadn’t been just a sperm donor, he’d actually tried to insinuate himself in her life.

The blame had lain with her mom.

She couldn’t be mad at her, either. While she hadn’t known about her mom’s secret past, she knew in her heart that whatever decisions her mom had made—right or wrong—had been with her daughter’s, and the rest of her family’s, best interests in mind.

A few good things had come from meeting Ian, though, that both excited and worried her. He’d not only given her a better insight into how her mother had dealt with her trances and her role as a medium, but he’d offered her an opportunity at CORE as a psychic advisor. He’d pay her a generous salary, plus benefits, and had even offered to find her a place to live. He’d also said that if working for CORE didn’t interest her, he’d still love to have her come to Chicago.

While she hadn’t commented one way or the other about the potential job, she couldn’t help considering his offer. How many times had she’d dreamed of leaving Wissota Falls again, going to a bigger city, living her dreams? But what about her dad and The Sugar Shack? And did she really want to be involved in criminal investigations, witnessing and viewing the horrors investigators like John saw on a regular basis? What about John, for that matter? How would he feel if she moved to Chicago? He’d said he couldn’t walk away from her, but he’d never said how they could make what they’d started work, either.

The whole situation had exhausted and confused her. She’d spent the lunch rush on autopilot. Around two, she’d headed home to bake. There was no way she’d wake up at five in the morning again to take care of the diner’s needs if John planned on spending the night. There was no way she’d miss the opportunity to wake up in his arms...properly, decadently.

She smiled as she remembered saying those same words to him in her basement kitchen as he’d pressed his erection against her and nibbled her neck. Her smile grew bigger at the thought of him taking her out on a date. She hadn’t been on a date in over a year. And to think, he planned to take her to Eau Claire’s finest restaurant. She hadn’t tasted anything but her own cooking or that of The Sugar Shack’s for months. And half the recipes used at the diner were her dad’s, which she’d doctored up a bit, while the rest were hers, so it had been like eating her own cooking anyway.

Dad.

Her smile fell as she imagined his strong face, and twinkling, playful green eyes—eyes so much like Eden’s and Will’s. What would they say when they learned about Ian? How much would change between them? Nothing, she decided. She was still the same person. She just had a different father.

A car door slammed. Unable to fall asleep, she rose and looked out the opened window.

Lloyd stood next to his truck, parked in the apron of the driveway. He glanced toward her house and sent her a tentative wave. Although she’d been angry with him last night, with the way the big lug now slumped his shoulders in defeat and offered her an apologetic smile, she knew she couldn’t stay mad long. They had too much history together, and he’d always been a stable and important part of her life.

She waved back, then yelled, “Will’s in his studio.”

“Why isn’t he with you?”

“Because I’m a big girl. Besides, the house is locked up and John’s coming by in an hour or so.”

He set his mouth in a grim line, then nodded and headed for the steps leading to Will’s apartment above the garage. “You’ll call if you need anything,” he shouted over his shoulder.

“Duh,” she said with a roll of her eyes that earned her a small grin from Lloyd.

After he disappeared into the apartment, she drew the blinds, then crawled back into bed.

Twenty minutes, that’s all she needed. Just enough of a little catnap to help her rejuvenate before she finished preparing for her date with John. Her clothes were already laid out, all she had to do was apply her make-up and touch up her hair. She had plenty of time.

She glanced at the clock, and realized she now only had nineteen minutes, then stared back at the rotating ceiling fan. The wooden blades began to blur as she pushed the day’s events from her mind and finally began to doze.

*

Dr. Alex Trumane arrived home after a late appointment at the office, and for the first time in months, he had no desire to go to his AA meeting. Tired from the past two sleepless nights and exhausted after playing catch-up with his patients, he wanted to lie in bed and zone out watching Sports Center. But if he didn’t go, Kira would know. He’d always gone to the diner for coffee and pie after a meeting. And as a long-time AA member, she knew when his meetings were, or if for whatever reason, they’d been cancelled.

He parked his Lexus, then walked toward his mailbox. He absently sifted through the mail as he moved to his front door, then came to an abrupt halt.

His heart hammered with hope as he studied the return address on one of the envelopes. Mississippi State Department of Health. Anna Lynn Gates’s will and the only lead he had to Number Twenty-two on his list of atonement.

After quickly unlocking the door to his condo, then slamming it behind him, he tore open the envelope. As he scanned through the contents of the will a punch of hope jabbed him in the stomach. Anna had left everything she owned to her granddaughter, Miranda. Yet what good did that knowledge do for him when he’d tried every route to find the granddaughter and had come up empty?

His hope deflated. He tossed the document on the coffee table, then slumped onto the sofa. Running a hand through his hair, he leaned back with a deep sigh.

Number Twenty-two’s delicate features, her pale face, equally pale blond hair, and soft, hazel eyes formed in his memory. She’d been so slight, so pretty, and so damned scared. And he’d allowed the bastard she’d been with to manipulate her.

No, you manipulated her to save your ass.

Shoving off the couch, he grabbed the will again, this time reading every detail. A spark of optimism flickered in his pessimistic heart.

Wissota Falls, Wisconsin.

Anna Lynn Gates had left a house, along with several acres of property in this community to her granddaughter. Could Miranda be there? And if so, was
he
still with her?

At this point, it didn’t matter if that bastard was with her or not. There had to be some statute of limitations that would keep him from losing his practice, his livelihood, and what little self-respect he owned. If not, at this point, he didn’t care. What he’d done to her had been abysmal, and had gone against every oath he’d sworn to uphold. Because he’d been scared, drunk, drugged up, and a fucking coward.

He’d rectify what he’d done. He’d atone for his sins, even if it meant losing Kira, his family, and his practice. Even if it meant...going to prison. He could live sober. He could live behind bars. He couldn’t live if he knew his cowardly actions had cost the life of a young, vibrant woman.

Checking his watch, he frowned in disappointment. He wouldn’t be able to research this new information and make his meeting or see Kira. 

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow he’d do some serious digging, and now he knew exactly where he’d start.

Wissota Falls, Wisconsin.

*

John climbed into his rental, freshly showered, and wearing what he’d hoped would suit the restaurant Roy had recommended, then headed for Celeste’s house. The nervousness fluttering through his stomach was something strange, new, and a little exhilarating. He hadn’t been on a date in years, and while he’d already been intimate with Celeste, this was their first
official
date. He wanted it to be special. He wanted something that the two of them could look back on fifty years from now and reminisce with smiles lining their wrinkled faces.

God, he was in deep. He half-laughed as he drove the car down Main Street. Already he was looking ahead, looking to the future, which was something he’d never done before unless it had dealt with his career. And with his line of work, he’d spent most days looking into hell—gruesome murders, sadistic and sociopathic killers, rapists, arsonists.

He’d chosen his career, though, and couldn’t imagine doing anything else with his life. Someone needed to help the victims. Besides, he liked the rush, the investigative aspect, and the high when a murderer was brought to justice.

Unfortunately, he’d been too career-oriented to look outside the box, to realize that there was more to life than dead bodies and killers. Being with Celeste helped soften the rough edges of a bad day. She’d brought him hope with her pretty smile and intelligent, knowing blue eyes that sparkled every time she looked at him. With her, he didn’t have to suffer the day-to-day routine alone. But did she want to be with him? Better yet, would she want to share a life with him?

His stomach fluttered again. He reached for his antacids, but tossed them into the center console. This wasn’t acid reflux or the onslaught of heartburn. Nope, this was plain old nerves kicking in and giving him a wakeup call.

He couldn’t let her go, at least not without laying all the cards on the table. Tonight, after dinner, he wouldn’t just suggest she come to Chicago for a visit. Nope, he’d man up and tell her how he felt about her, then ask her to move in with him.

Releasing a deep sigh, the nervousness dissipated now that he’d made his decision. Yet as he turned down her street, it kicked back up a few notches. What if she said no? What if she didn’t feel the same? What if this was just an affair to her?

The questions rolled through his head, but as he pulled into her driveway, they came to a screeching halt. The headlights from his sedan beamed against the tail end of the Viking’s truck. Fucking Lloyd. He hoped like hell the jackass was here to see Will and not Celeste. After what he’d attempted last night, John still wanted to kick his ass.

Before he climbed out of the car, he grabbed the bouquet of flowers he’d bought for Celeste, then slammed the door shut. As he moved along the walkway, he ignored the gnomes and considered every worst case scenario, should he have to confront Lloyd, until he reached the front stoop.

Panic, fear and adrenaline moved through him. Celeste’s front door stood wide open, the foyer rug, bunched and skewed. In an instant, he had his gun drawn from his shoulder holster and held low to his thigh. With cautious steps he moved into the foyer, then paused and frowned as he stared at the mirror above her fireplace.

A wave of anger and jealousy suddenly replaced his fear. He glared at the mirror, at the reflection of Lloyd’s naked back as he leaned over Celeste who lay half against the wall. The fucking Viking’s overlong hair hid their faces. But with the way her body jerked, her blond head sliding slightly up and down the wall, along with her low groans and his heavy breathing, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what they were doing. Had she wanted him to walk in on them during the act? She knew what time he’d planned to pick her up for their date.

He crushed the stems of the bouquet in his hand. How could he have been so stupid? How could he have allowed himself to be duped again? He’d believed in her, in the idea of them, and he’d obviously been a simple fuck to her, nothing more. And now she was rubbing it in his face.

Damn, what a fool he’d been. He’d confessed things to her he’d never told anyone else. He’d planned to tell her how he felt about her tonight and ask her to move in with him. Thank God that never happened. Witnessing this, the betrayal, especially after he’d told her about Renee, was bad enough. To have opened himself to further humiliation would have left his ego, hell, his heart, in shambles.

Damn it, he
loved
her.

Defeated, depressed and downright pissed as hell, he holstered his weapon, then tossed the bouquet on the floor. As he was about to walk out the door, and out of her life, he caught a quick glimpse of Will in the mirror’s reflection.

Racing from the kitchen, wearing nothing but a pair of jeans and holding a cordless phone, Will shouted, “I’m calling him now.”

Celeste released a harsh scream the same moment John’s cell phone rang. In that split second, his entire body tensed, and his scalp tingled as dread slipped down his spine.