Page 3 of Beyond Her Reach (Bree Taggert #10)

Bree turned to see Juarez blocking the path of a large man walking up the driveway. He was at least six four, both lean and wide-shouldered, with a poofy Duck Dynasty beard and a baseball cap sporting a fish on the front. A long scar ran down his left cheek.

Juarez stopped him politely. “I’m sorry, sir. You can’t go inside.”

“Why not?” The man’s posture emanated belligerence as he glared down at Juarez, whose ability to remain calm impressed Bree. The man drew back his shoulders. Towering over Juarez, he jutted out his chest like a WWE wrestler about to do a body slam. “I have a right to know what’s going on!”

Juarez didn’t budge, but he didn’t seem intimidated either. “This is a crime scene, sir. I cannot let you through. Please step back.”

“I will not! What do you mean, it’s a crime scene?” The man glared over Juarez’s head and spotted Bree. “Sheriff!” he yelled. “What happened? Where’s Kelly?”

He knew the victim.

Bree headed for him. “Can I help you, sir?”

She gave Juarez an I’ve got this nod.

Juarez stepped aside, and the man brushed past him, attempting to blow right by Bree as well.

Yeah. Not happening.

Juarez moved into the man’s path again. “Sir, you need to stop right there.”

“I have rights. You can’t stop me.” He dropped his upper body and attempted to plow a shoulder into Juarez’s body, but Juarez dodged him.

Unfortunately, the man’s momentum carried him toward Bree.

She sidestepped and twisted, getting out of the way just in time to avoid a tackle.

His shoulder brushed past her midsection, and his elbow clipped her in the jaw.

Her teeth snapped together. Pain zipped through her lip, and the coppery, salty taste of blood flooded her mouth.

Son of a . . .

Deflecting his shoulder with a hand, she kicked out in a boot-to-boot leg sweep.

He might have an eighty-pound weight advantage over her, but she had learned and trained to take down larger suspects.

He couldn’t muscle over the laws of physics.

In fact, his broad-shouldered build made him top heavy.

His momentum—and excessive confidence—carried his upper body forward while her maneuver took his foot in the opposite direction.

He went down fast and hard. His body hit the concrete driveway like a sack of horse feed.

Slush sprayed on Bree’s boots and pant legs.

He landed on his belly, the air bellowing out of his lungs with an audible “Oof.”

To keep him down, Bree crouched, folded his arm into a chicken wing, and carefully applied a knee to the back of his hip.

He struggled for a few seconds, but Bree just waited. If he’d had leverage, he could have easily overpowered her. But with his cheek pressed into the driveway and his arm behind his back, he had exactly none. Still, she cuffed him for extra assurance.

“What the ...” He stopped himself, going quiet as the click of the handcuffs forced his brain to process the reality of the situation.

“I didn’t see that coming. I’m sorry,” a distressed Juarez said over her shoulder.

Bree shook her head. “I didn’t see it coming either.”

“Do you need help?” Juarez asked.

She patted down the man’s pockets, which were empty except for a cheap cell phone. Bree shook her head. “I don’t think so, but don’t go anywhere.”

“Yes, ma’am. Your mouth is bleeding.” Juarez shot an angry glare at the man on the ground.

Bree ran her tongue over her teeth and lips. She found a small cut on the inside of her lip. “Bit my own lip.”

“Do you want me to take him in for assaulting an officer?” Juarez narrowed his eyes at the man.

“Not just yet.” Bree wanted to know how well the man knew the victim. She leaned closer to him. “If I let you get up, will you cooperate?”

A sigh heaved through his big body. “Yeah. I’m real sorry, ma’am. I would never strike a woman.”

“Except you just did,” Bree pointed out, thinking of the dead woman in the house.

“That was an accident.” He sounded sincere.

Though Bree noted that he offered no apology for attempting to bulldoze Juarez.

She warned, “If you don’t behave, I’ll have to arrest you.”

“I won’t do anything. I swear.” Regret deflated his body.

“ Ok .” She released his arm and stood back. Her posture was deceptively casual. One hand rested on her duty belt—right next to her Taser and baton.

Her takedown seemed to have snapped his self-control back into place, but she made mental notes regarding his agitated state, sense of entitlement, and poor emotional regulation. Those three traits could possibly lead to an impulsive act, like slashing a woman’s throat.

“I’m Sheriff Taggert. What’s your name?”

“Jeff Burke.” He jerked his chin toward the house across the street. The smaller home was white with navy-blue shutters and a black cat in the window. “I live there.”

Bree touched her mouth with a fingertip. “As my deputy pointed out, I could arrest you for assaulting an officer right now.”

Burke frowned at her face, then stared down at his toes, scraping one boot on the concrete, his demeanor suddenly that of a kid in the principal’s office. “I apologize for that. I shouldn’t have done it, but I was—am—upset at seeing all this police activity at Kelly’s house.”

“Because she’s your neighbor?” Bree asked.

“Yes.” A red flush brightened his cheeks over his scraggly facial hair. “Kelly is more than my neighbor. She’s also my ... friend.” The slight hesitation before friend made Bree wonder if that was the extent of his relationship with the victim.

Neither of those relationships gave him the right to access the crime scene. But Bree had no desire to argue. She needed information, and she was willing to let his little tantrum slide if he proved useful.

“Did Kelly get robbed or something?” he asked.

Bree didn’t answer. “When was the last time you spoke with Kelly?”

He jerked a shoulder. “I don’t know exactly. A few days ago maybe? I was coming home from work and she was at her mailbox.”

“And what was the nature of that conversation?”

Burke’s steel-toed construction boot scraped on the concrete again. “The usual. I said hi. She waved back.”

“So you didn’t have a conversation ?”

“No, ma’am,” he admitted. Irritation flashed in his eyes but disappeared in an instant. Had he been annoyed that Kelly didn’t stop to talk to him? Or that Bree had made a note of it? Both?

“And that’s the last time you saw her?” Bree asked.

“Yes.” He expanded his chest and let all the air out in a huge sigh.

“When was the last real conversation you had with her?” Bree asked. “Something more than a neighborly wave.”

He glanced at his own house. Thinking back or thinking of the best way to respond? “Last week we talked about her renovation.”

“Where did that conversation happen?”

“In her house.” Burke nodded, as if affirming his own statement.

“Did she invite you over?” Bree asked.

“Not exactly.” Burke frowned. He clearly did not like Bree highlighting the superficial nature of his relationship with Kelly. “I got a letter of hers by mistake. I delivered it to her.”

“Did you talk at her door or inside the house?”

“Inside. I wanted to see her new kitchen cabinets.”

Bree wondered if Kelly had offered to let him in or if he had pushed his way in, using that sense of entitlement he’d already exhibited with her. She didn’t bother to ask. He wouldn’t admit it. Instead, she asked, “How did she seem?”

He shrugged. “Normal. A little stressed, but that was normal for her.”

“What was she stressed about?”

Burke shifted his weight again. His inability to remain still was a tell of discomfort. Whatever he said next might not be the complete truth. “The renovation was taking longer than she wanted. The costs were higher, the usual stuff.”

“Did you exchange any phone calls or texts with her?”

He ground his molars. “I don’t have her phone number.”

So they weren’t close.

“Did she mention being afraid of anyone or anything?” Bree asked.

“Afraid?” Burke stiffened. His gaze shot to Kelly’s house. “What the hell happened to her?”

Bree spotted a news van coming down the street toward them. No point in holding back now. The media would pull Kelly’s name from the property address. As soon as they saw the ME van arrive, they’d know someone had died here. “Kelly was murdered.”

Burke fell back a step as if she’d pushed him. His gaze darted back to the house, then refocused on Bree. “What?”

“Kelly was murdered,” she repeated.

His jaw sawed from side to side as if protesting the news his brain was processing. “When did it happen?”

“I don’t know yet,” Bree said. “Did Kelly mention receiving any threats?”

Burke shook his head. “Not to me.”

“Does she have a significant other?”

Burke’s face scrunched up in distaste. “She and her husband are separated. Harrison is a douche. He never deserved her.”

“Why do you say that?” Bree left the question intentionally open-ended.

Burke huffed. “He’s the kind of guy who buys a sports car, dyes his hair, and chases younger women because he’s approaching fifty, like any of that is going to keep him from aging.”

Bree guessed Burke was probably fifty-fiveish. His beard was shot with gray, and the silver Ford F-150 that stood in front of his house looked to be about ten years old. “You don’t like Kelly’s husband.”

“No,” he said without hesitation. “He dumped Kelly for a younger woman after the last kid left for college. That’s not the way you treat a good woman.”

“When did they split up?”

“Last spring? Dunno exactly.”

“What about Kelly? What was she like?” Bree asked.

Burke’s eyes went misty. He blinked. “She was sweet. Smart. Good mom. Kept the house nice, yard too.”

“Did she work outside the home?”

Burke shook his head. His face filled with admiration. “No. She was happy to be a homemaker. It’s the most important job, after all.” His tone was wistful. Was he single? “So many rude kids out there, but not Kelly’s. She brought them up right.”

Bree didn’t comment, but a tinge of guilt crept up her spine.

She was raising her niece and nephew, but a fresh homicide case would lead to more time away from them.

But they didn’t need a stay-at-home mom to turn them into good kids.

They were already good kids. Bree’s sister had been a single working mom.

Why did she let people get to her? “Is there a Mrs. Burke I could speak with?”

He stared down at his battered boots. “No. I was never lucky enough to find the right woman.” Sadness filled his eyes, wiping out any trace of his earlier aggression. His moods were more volatile than the weather between seasons.

Bree noted that Burke’s front door was directly across the street from Kelly’s. “Do you have a doorbell or security camera?”

Burke snorted. “Hell no. I won’t give Big Brother any more opportunities to watch me.” He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. It looked like a prepaid model. “No smartphone for me either. Nobody’s listening in on my conversations.”

Disappointed, Bree moved on. “Did Kelly have issues with any of the other neighbors?”

Burke shook his head. “Not that I know of. Everybody loves—loved—her. I just can’t wrap my head around her being gone. Why would anyone want to hurt her?”

Bree had no answer for that. “How about family? Did you ever witness any fights or loud arguments?”

“No.” He paused. “Yes,” he corrected. “I saw Kelly and Harrison argue more than once.”

“Recently?”

“Yeah.” His nod was enthusiastic. “He came over here a while ago. I don’t remember exactly when, maybe like a month or two?

She wouldn’t let him in. He was real mad that she’d changed the locks.

Good for her, though. I mean, he moved out.

Why would he think he could just waltz back in whenever he wanted? ”

Why indeed?

“What did they argue about?” Bree asked.

Burke shrugged. “The divorce. He wanted her to sign the papers, but she wasn’t happy with the settlement, said he was being stingy. No surprise there.”

“Did you ever see him threaten or strike Kelly?”

“No,” Burke admitted reluctantly. “Have you talked to him yet?” Burke said him with vehemence, his face flushing with temper again. “Because if I were you, I’d look at him pretty hard.”

“Was there anyone else in Kelly’s life?”

“She has a lady friend I see here regularly. Don’t know her name. She’s average height, fit, dark hair.” Burke rattled the handcuffs behind his back. “Are you going to arrest me?”

Bree sighed. “Not at this time.” Yes, he’d tried to knock her over, but he’d been distressed. She circled a finger, and he turned around. She removed the cuffs. “I’m going to cut you a break. I won’t give you another one.”

Burke turned to face her. “ Ok .” He looked appropriately penitent as he rubbed his wrists.

Suddenly, he froze. “Wait. A man brought her home one day last week. I don’t remember which night, and I didn’t recognize him.

He opened her car door and walked real close to her, like it was a date or something.

” He frowned, his eyes narrowing. Jealousy?

“But you don’t know who it was.”

“No.” Burke looked thoughtful. “Tall guy. Dressed fancy.” He rolled his eyes. “Drove a slick black sedan.”

“Do you remember anything else about him or his car?”

“No, but I wish I did.” Burke brightened. “His number must be in her phone. You should probably look for him.”

Bree nodded. “We will investigate everyone in Kelly’s life.”

Including you.