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TWELVE

W est hugged Trish, concerned about how she would handle seeing her ex-husband’s dead body. He probably should have mentioned that the ME believed Little had been badly beaten, not just in his face but throughout his entire body.

Likely the masked perp had used brute force to get information from her ex-husband. Maybe Little had only been able to mention a key before being rendered unconscious.

Or taking his last breath. Hard to know for sure, since Dr. Owens found massive internal bleeding.

It reminded him of the way the masked man had struck Laurel in the kidney. Whoever this guy is, he knows how to inflict pain on his victims.

Trisha stepped away, then climbed into the SUV. He quickly slid behind the wheel, looking at her with concern.

“I’m fine,” she said, answering his unspoken question. “I didn’t love Bryan. He wasn’t the man I thought he was when we got married. I don’t believe he deserved to die, but he made his decisions.” She frowned. “Really bad ones, apparently.”

“Yeah.” He honestly wasn’t sure what Little had been thinking to walk away from a woman as kind and beautiful as Trish, not to mention leaving his son.

The trip to the ME’s office didn’t take long. He drove around back where the lab was located. The sun was out, so he decided to leave Peanut in the SUV, knowing they wouldn’t be inside for long.

Trish’s apprehensive expression tugged at his heart. “Have you seen a dead body before?”

“Yes.” She shrugged. “I had to identify my parents’ bodies, too, after they died in a car crash.”

He caught her hand as they headed inside. No matter how strong she might be, he had a feeling this would hit her hard. “You need to know he was beaten pretty badly,” he said in a low tone.

“I figured as much.” She shook her head. “He was so stupid to steal something, then refuse to give it up. Material things aren’t worth risking your life over.”

He silently agreed. Dr. Cathy Owens was waiting for them inside. The no-nonsense ME eyed Trisha critically.

“Are you going to faint?” she asked.

“No.” Trisha lifted her chin. “This isn’t a first for me.”

Owens nodded, then gestured for her to come closer. “His face is swollen and bruised,” she warned. “I hope you can still make a positive ID.”

West stood behind Trisha to catch her if she did in fact pass out. Dr. Owens pulled back the sheet, revealing what he felt certain was Little’s bruised face.

“Yes, that’s my ex-husband, Bryan Little,” Trisha said in a remarkably strong voice. She reached back for his hand. “Where was he found?”

“In the back alley behind the Wild Wild West Restaurant.” Dr. Owens pulled the sheet back over his face. “Thank you for coming in to provide a positive ID. I am ruling his death a homicide. His cause of death is blunt force trauma resulting in internal bleeding.”

“Thanks, Dr. Owens.” West continued to hold Trish’s hand. “We’ll look forward to seeing your formal report.”

“I’ll submit my preliminary findings by the end of the day,” Owens said. “But I can’t do the final autopsy reports until the tox screens come back, in about thirty days.”

“I understand.” He was well aware of the length of time tox screens took. Almost as long as DNA testing. Patience with this kind of thing wasn’t his strong suit. He tugged Trish’s hand. “Let’s go.”

She allowed him to draw her back outside. She paused for a moment outside the SUV, a hint of tears in her eyes.

“Hey, it’s okay.” He looped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. “You were married to the guy.”

“It’s not that.” She swiped at her face, then leaned her head on his shoulder. “My only regret is that Gabriel will never know his father. I had accepted the fact that Bryan wouldn’t be a part of Gabriel’s life, but I had hoped that maybe someday...” Her voice trailed off. “Foolish thought, I know,” she finally added.

Her tears were for her son’s loss, not hers. He admired Trisha more than ever, knowing that she would have supported a relationship between Gabriel and his father despite the way the jerk had walked out on her.

He drew her more fully into his arms, wishing he knew what to say.

Trisha slipped her arms around his waist and hugged him. Then she tipped her head back to look into his eyes. “You’re amazing, West.”

“Not me, you.” He could barely push the words past his tight throat. His gaze dropped to her mouth. As if she knew exactly what he was thinking, she went up on her tiptoes and kissed him.

Not a chaste kiss on the cheek this time, but a real kiss. Their lips fused together, sending a zing of awareness down his spine. He couldn’t help but pull her closer still, enjoying their kiss far more than he should.

Somehow, he managed to pull away, abruptly conscious of how they were standing out in plain sight. The recent shooting outside Little’s apartment building had proven they were far from being out of harm’s way.

“I—uh, we need to get back.” He stepped back with a pang of regret. Peanut was standing in the back crate area, her nose pressed against the window. Almost like his partner was asking him what in the world he was doing. Wasn’t that a good question? “I—we still need to find this guy.”

“Yes, we do.” She held his gaze for a moment before pulling away. “I was thinking we should head over to that restaurant where Bryan’s body was found.”

She was? He had barely managed to form a coherent thought in his head after that intense kiss. He forced himself to focus on the case. “That’s a good idea. I’ve never been to the Wild Wild West Restaurant.”

“That will be a first for me, too.” She stepped up to the passenger side door. He shot Peanut one last look, before heading around to get in behind the wheel.

He took a moment to plug the restaurant name into his map app. “According to the GPS, it’s on the far east side of the city.”

“The opposite direction from where Bryan used to live,” she mused. “I wonder what he was doing there?”

“We can ask around, see if anyone recognizes him.” He frowned, realizing he had no idea which detective was assigned to Bryan Little’s case. “I better call Ross. He needs to know about this, too.”

She nodded. “He’s going to let you handle Bryan’s murder, right? I mean, it has to be connected to the masked intruder asking for a key and the kidnapping of Gabriel so he’d have a bargaining chip.”

“I agree. But Ross may have assigned it to someone else, not knowing about the connection.” He used his hands-free function to connect with the precinct. After asking to be transferred to Ross, his boss quickly answered. “Hey, Captain. Trish’s ex-husband was murdered. She has positively identified his body in the morgue. He came in as a John Doe. Which detective has the case?”

“Rory Jacobs. But I think you’re right about his death being connected. I’ll let him know to send whatever information he has over to you,” Ross said. “I doubt he’ll mind.”

“Thanks.” West knew Rory was easygoing about stuff like this. “Later.”

A minute after he ended the call with Ross, he heard from Jacobs. “You taking over my John Doe?” Jacobs asked.

“Yeah, sorry. Your vic is Bryan Little, ex-husband of Trisha McCord. We believe his murder is related to the break-in at Trish’s home and the attempted abduction of her son.” Not to mention the shooting outside the apartment building. “What do you know about what happened?”

“Not much,” Jacobs admitted. “Vic was found dead earlier this morning by the restaurant cook, a guy named Tim Vale. I asked uniforms to canvass the area, but no one claimed to see or hear anything. I figure he was killed elsewhere and dumped there. I was going to head back to the restaurant later to see if I could get anything more.”

“I’m heading there now,” West said. “I feel bad taking your case, but I’ve been working the assault and kidnapping for the past two days. We have reason to believe Little stole something valuable that his killer wants back in a big way.”

“No problem,” Rory assured him. “The case sounds interesting. Don’t hesitate to call if you need additional support.”

It was tempting to say that he already had Trisha as a partner but managed to hold back. Trisha wasn’t a detective, and Rory was. Yet her instinct to return to the Wild Wild West Restaurant was spot-on. “Thanks. I will.”

“I know Rory. He’s a nice guy,” Trisha said after he’d finished the call.

“Yeah.” The unwelcome pang of jealousy was completely out of line. Rory was happily married, and he was being ridiculous.

This was why he shouldn’t have kissed Trish. He was already starting to care for her. She was a single mother, a smart cop and absolutely off-limits.

The sooner his brain accepted that fact, the better.

Doing her best to ignore the heady impact of West’s kiss, Trisha tried to think of what Bryan might have stolen, where he’d stashed it and where on earth he’d hidden the key.

It didn’t make sense that he would have hidden the key at her house. Yet he wouldn’t have left it behind at his apartment, either.

And when had he gotten inside her home to hide it? Had he done that prior to their divorce? Or a few months afterward? He’d left his house key but could have made a duplicate.

“It’s getting close to lunchtime,” West said, interrupting her thoughts as they neared the Wild Wild West Restaurant. “I wouldn’t mind grabbing something to eat, although I can understand if you’re not interested.”

She shrugged, knowing he was concerned about her seeing her dead ex-husband’s body and about being at the scene of the crime. It was sweet of him to worry, but she was anxious to find this perp so that her life could get back to normal. “I’m fine with grabbing lunch. One thing I learned in five years on the job is to eat when you can.”

“That’s the golden rule,” West agreed. He tapped the GPS screen. “This place seems to be in a rather isolated part of town. Maybe that’s why his killer chose that location to dump his body.”

She nodded. “Or the killer was driving in from the Badlands or Mount Rushmore area and stopped at the first sign of civilization.” A horrible thought hit. “Do you think Bryan’s body was dumped here as a warning to me?”

“I think this guy has already broken into your home, assaulted Laurel, tried to kidnap Gabriel and took shots at us. That’s more than a mere warning, Trish.”

“You’re right.” She sighed. “I tried to find a connection on social media between Nick Cutter and Bryan, but there’s nothing. Maybe he’s not our guy.”

“Maybe not, or there’s a team of people working together on this. We know for sure someone took the black Ford sedan,” he pointed out.

She glanced at him. “Being an investigator is frustrating.”

He barked out a laugh. “Yes, it can be. But solving a case is extremely satisfying.”

“I’ll have to take your word on that.” She could see the building housing the Wild Wild West Restaurant up ahead. “Looks like it’s a bit run-down.”

“Yeah.” West frowned. “We’ll ask questions first. We may want to eat someplace else.”

“Whatever you’d like is fine with me.” In all her patrols, she had never been called to this restaurant.

And wasn’t sure if that was a good thing, or a bad one. Either the patrons avoided the cops at all costs, or the inside was nicer than what it appeared from the outside.

She hoped for the latter.

West parked the car, then let Peanut out of the back. She gestured to the beagle wearing her K-9 vest. “Do you think there are weapons inside?”

“Never hurts to have Peanut’s nose warning me if there are,” he said with a shrug. “The name of the restaurant could attract the type of clientele who carry concealed weapons.” He glanced around curiously. “There is also the possibility the gun traffickers might use a place like this the way they used the Plains City Pizzeria. As a staging location. Or a meeting place.”

She nodded, steeling herself for whatever they would find inside. West opened the front door for her, saying in a low voice to Peanut, “Want to find tools? Find tools, Pea.”

The dog lifted her snout to the air and sniffed, making her smile. Crossing the threshold, Trisha was surprised to see the interior was rather nice, with the usual Wild West type of motif. Wild Bill Hickok and his infamous last poker game, when he was brutally gunned down in the back by a former rival, was the area’s claim to fame. Tourists expected to find this kind of thing.

There was a long gleaming oak bar along the wall to the right, and a spattering of tables took up the rest of the room. It appeared as if the kitchen was somewhere in the back.

A woman wearing skintight jeans, a denim shirt and a cowboy hat strolled over to meet them. “Table for two?” she asked, glancing down at Peanut. Seeing the K-9 vest, she frowned. “Are you here in some sort of official capacity?”

“I’m Detective West Cole and this is Officer Trisha McCord.” He took a photograph from his pocket. Trisha winced when she saw the picture of her ex-husband’s battered face. “Do you recognize this man?”

The woman took a step back and shook her head. “No. Is that the dead guy our cook found out back?”

Not a surprise that the news of Bryan’s body being found had run through the restaurant.

“That’s correct,” Trisha confirmed. “You’re sure he was never a customer?”

“I didn’t say that,” the woman said, backpedaling. “I don’t recognize him, but I don’t memorize every person that eats here. You know how many people stop in as they’re passing through?”

“A lot, I imagine,” West agreed. “We’d like to know if any other employees recognize him.”

“Ask away.” The woman threw up her hand. “Nobody here has anything to hide.”

Trisha noticed how West eyed Peanut as he moved across the room. It wasn’t until they reached the bar that Peanut’s nose rose again. She sniffed the air, then sat and stared up at West.

“Can I help you?” The bartender’s nametag identified him as Jim.

West flashed his badge, but Jim didn’t appear impressed. “Do you recognize this man?” West pushed the picture of Bryan’s battered face across the bar.

Jim barely looked at it. “Nope.”

“Do you have a gun behind the bar?” West asked.

That made Jim’s head snap up. “No! Why do you ask?” he demanded.

“Because my K-9 is telling me you do, so it may not be wise to lie to me.” West held Jim’s gaze. “You want to answer questions down at the precinct? Because that can be arranged.”

Jim glanced at the cowboy hat woman, then sighed. “Look, I have a permit.” He pulled out a small forty-five from beneath the bar. “Druggies sometimes try to rob us. It’s only for my protection.”

“I’d like to see the permit,” West said calmly. Trisha had to admit, watching West in action was educational. She wished she had half his confidence when it came to being in control of a situation.

Jim dug in his wallet and pulled out the license. West examined it for a moment, then returned it.

“Thank you. Are you sure you haven’t seen this guy around?” West asked, going back to the issue of her ex’s dead body.

“I really don’t remember him. But as Corey says, we get a lot of tourists. I can only tell you that this guy—” Jim tapped the photo “—was not a regular.”

“Okay, thank you.” West nodded and took the picture.

Unfortunately, every employee they spoke with had never seen Bryan before, either. Or if they had, they weren’t telling.

West must have decided against staying for lunch, because he turned and headed back outside. She followed, curious as to what he was thinking.

“Let’s walk around back,” he said. “I want to see the dumpster myself.”

She followed him down along the side of the building. There was a narrow alleyway behind the restaurant and a larger building on the other side of the street. She stopped abruptly when she realized it was another storage unit facility. Much like the one they’d been to back in the center of the city.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” West asked as they walked the length of the alleyway. He’d instructed Peanut to find tools, but the K-9 did not alert. Even with the strong scent of garbage, he knew Peanut would be able to sniff out a weapon if there was one.

“That Bryan was killed in a storage facility by some perp who then stole the key from him and then dropped his body here?” she guessed, then shook her head. “It’s an odd coincidence to be sure, but if that is what happened, I don’t understand why the gunman would be still searching for the key. He’d have the one he’d taken from Bryan that opened the storage facility, right?”

“Yeah, that’s a sticking point,” West agreed. He frowned and swept his gaze over the area. “Rory, the detective who took the early morning call, didn’t mention finding any evidence. If there had been something here, it’s long gone.”

“That’s disappointing. I was hoping we’d know more by now.” She wondered again why this location was used as the dump site. “Will finding Bryan’s body so close to the storage facility help us in getting a search warrant?” she asked, desperately trying not to breathe in the scent of old garbage.

He grimaced. “Probably not. As you said yourself, if Bryan had been killed at the storage facility, then why is the gunman still searching for the key?”

“Maybe the key isn’t related to the storage facility at all,” she said with a sigh. “It seems the most logical, but maybe Bryan stole something much smaller.”

“We never did check the bus station,” West said, glancing down at his K-9 partner. Peanut looked up at him adoringly. “I guess we can do that after we find a place to eat lunch.” He waved toward the Wild Wild West Restaurant. “I’d rather not eat here. The staff was not nearly as cooperative as I would have expected.”

She knew the fact that the bartender had lied about having a gun was part of that decision. “Fine with me.”

As they made their way up to the SUV, West abruptly grabbed her arm. “Down!”

She dropped to all fours behind the SUV just as the sound of gunfire rang out.