Page 128

CHAPTER FOUR

G avin scowled at the image displayed on the computer screen. It was a closeup of the shooter taken from the emergency clinic’s surveillance video. The man was dressed in all black, a ski cap pulled low on his head. A backpack—big enough to hide a disassembled rifle—was slung over one shoulder.

“Is this the best image we have of him?” Gavin asked.

“I’m afraid so, sir.” Keith O’Neal, Claire’s chief deputy, swiped a hand over his ginger mustache. Pushing fifty, he had the physique of a much younger man, but the lines on his face told of long hours and troublesome cases. Gavin had worked with Keith years ago, when he was with the Houston Police Department. Drug abuse had derailed his career for a time. Gavin was happy to see him sober. Keith was one of the good ones.

Gavin turned to Claire. She was studying the image on the computer screen. Stains from hiding behind the dumpster marred her uniform, but she’d scraped her hair into a fresh ponytail. A butterfly bandage covered the scratch on her cheek. On the credenza behind her were several photographs. Most of them featured a smiling toddler with golden hair and sweet freckles. Her son, Jacob. He resembled his mother.

The photographs of Claire and her young child were physical reminders of the responsibility weighing on Gavin’s shoulders. A part of him wanted to seclude Claire and her family away. But that wasn’t fair. Nor was it possible. Claire was the sheriff and had a job to do. Gavin respected that.

The glow from the computer screen caressed Claire’s features. Taken apart, one by one, they were too different to be considered classically pretty. A wide mouth, sharply cut jaw, high forehead, and the faint freckles sprinkled on her nose. But joined together, there was something captivating about them…

Gavin wrangled his runaway thoughts from Claire’s beauty. Yes, she was gorgeous. And he’d been impressed with the way she handled the shooting. But this attraction couldn’t go any further. Gavin’s relationship with Claire was professional, and that’s exactly how it would stay.

Claire frowned. “Play the video again from the beginning, Keith.”

Her chief deputy complied. The shooter slipped out of a side door and skirted the edge of the building before disappearing down an alley. Claire shook her head. “He could be anyone.”

Keith made a grunt of agreement. “I think that was the point.” Worry tightened the lines on his forehead as he closed his laptop. “Did you find Stephanie Madden’s case file in the storage room?”

“Yep.” Claire picked up a file folder from her desk and pushed it toward him. “There’s not much to it. Mary Ellen was correct. Sheriff King determined Stephanie simply left town.”

Gavin had also read the case file. Two years ago, Stephanie was reported missing by her boss, Faye. Deputies knocked on her door, but she didn’t answer, and her car wasn’t in the driveway. After a few days, when Stephanie didn’t reappear, a search warrant was obtained for her home. A suitcase was missing, as were clothes and other personal items.

“I’ve searched for Stephanie in the databases,” Gavin said. “Nothing shows up. Her driver’s license expired and she hasn’t renewed it. Her car’s yearly registration is out-of-date. No arrests. No updated address.”

Claire’s jaw tightened. “Considering Faye’s murder, that doesn’t bode well for us. I’m not sure we’re going to find Stephanie alive.”

Gavin picked up a photograph of Stephanie, taken from her case file. She was a beautiful blonde with a sunny smile. He wanted to believe she was out there, somewhere, living her life. But he was afraid Claire was right. Stephanie was likely dead.

He rose from the chair and strolled to the whiteboard attached to a standing easel. Using a magnet, he stuck Stephanie’s photograph next to the ones from Faye’s crime scene. His gaze swept across the images. “Let’s go through what we know so far, starting with Faye.”

Keith nodded, flipping to a page in his notebook. “She worked all day at the bakery. Witnesses I’ve interviewed said she was in a good mood, nothing out of the ordinary. Faye mentioned to her last customer that she was meeting someone after closing. She didn’t say who. The camera over the register was turned off at 8:41.”

Gavin tapped a photograph of Faye’s slashed tire. “Maybe she met with her attacker? We know Faye was looking into Stephanie’s disappearance. She could’ve mentioned it to the wrong person.”

“That makes sense.” Claire began pacing. “Okay, Faye meets with someone about Stephanie. Whatever is said causes the killer to walk out of the bakery and puncture Faye’s tire.”

“Why not kill her inside the bakery?” Keith interjected. His feet were propped up on the conference table and he spun a pen between his fingers. “It would’ve been a lot easier.”

“Maybe the killer was worried about potential witnesses. Or maybe he didn’t have his gun with him inside the bakery. We can’t assume the killer knew what the conversation was going to be about when he arrived to meet with Faye. She may have caught him off-guard.” Claire pointed to the slice on the tire. “This cut could’ve been made with a strong pocket knife. People regularly carry them. It would’ve been easy to stab the tire after leaving the bakery and then follow Faye home, waiting for her to get a flat tire.”

Gavin envisioned the crime in his mind’s eye. “Faye pulls to the side of the road. She tries calling for roadside assistance, but can’t get through. The killer drives up. Faye gets out.”

He could imagine the exchange. The pleasantries and relief on Faye’s part. The trust she must’ve had…until the moment the killer pulled out a gun. It made Gavin’s heart ache. “After shooting Faye, the killer goes to her SUV. He takes the cash from the store, hoping we’ll think it’s a robbery gone wrong.”

Claire nodded. “Except we figure out Faye’s murder is connected to Stephanie’s disappearance.”

“That’s why you’re a target, Sheriff.” Keith sat up, his feet thudding against the floor as they dropped from the conference table. “Your replacement could classify Faye’s murder as a robbery gone south and then say Stephanie’s disappearance is unrelated. People here are used to Sheriff King’s way of doing things.”

Gavin had never worked with the former sheriff of Fulton County personally, but he’d heard the rumors. Sheriff King let his personal relationships with people influence his investigations. With disastrous results. A serial killer had been overlooked and murdered several more women before Claire finally closed the case. And that was only one example. Gavin knew there were more. Stephanie’s flimsy case file was proof enough that Sheriff King hadn’t investigated her disappearance thoroughly.

“I hate to say it, but I think Keith is on to something.” Gavin rocked back on his heels. “I’m here because of your invitation. Texas Rangers don’t have jurisdiction over local murders or disappearances. The next sheriff could ask me to leave and close these cases as he sees fit.”

Gavin didn’t have hard evidence of the killer’s motives, but his gut said they were on the right track. Which meant Claire was still in danger. The killer would keep coming after her. The thought made Gavin’s blood boil. He wouldn’t allow anyone to harm her. Not on his watch.

Claire scowled. “If you’re right, and the killer is attempting to get rid of me to avoid these cases being investigated thoroughly, then I’m very concerned about the private investigator Faye hired. Michael Grayson could answer a lot of our questions. Have we been able to track him down yet?”

Gavin shared her fear. “He hasn’t been seen since last night. My colleague, Ranger Weston Donovan, is searching for him. We’ve listing him as a critical missing.”

Every officer in the state was looking for the man. Claire sighed, rubbing her forehead as if her head was still bothering her. “We need to find him.”

“Agreed. We’re doing all we can.” Gavin leaned back in his chair. He studied a photograph of the shooter extracted from the surveillance video. Frustration bubbled at the blurriness of the criminal’s face. “We need to focus our attention on Stephanie’s disappearance. Figuring out what happened to her should lead us to Faye’s killer since the two cases are linked.”

Claire nodded. “Let’s start by talking to Stephanie’s mom. I’d like to find out what she knows about her daughter living in Houston.”

“Careful, Sheriff.” Keith’s tone was ominous. “Stephanie’s stepfather, Xavier Whitlock, doesn’t like law enforcement.”

She grimaced. “I know.”

Claire kept both hands on the steering wheel while driving to the Whitlock property. She had all-weather tires, but the temperature hadn’t risen above freezing all day. Black ice was a treacherous prospect. Dark clouds hovering beyond the windshield promised even more heavy rain. The two-lane country road was empty. Most of the people were hunkered down, waiting for the storm to pass.

“Why doesn’t Xavier Whitlock like law enforcement?” Gavin asked from the passenger seat. His long legs were tucked under the dash and his cowboy hat rested in his lap. He tapped on his phone screen. “I’ve reviewed his criminal record. He’s been arrested a few times for misdemeanor assaults, but the cases are over twenty years old. There’s nothing recent.”

“He’s a survivalist.” Claire flipped on her wipers to combat the drizzle sprinkling the glass. “Xavier is part of a group known as the Chosen.”

Gavin inhaled sharply. “They’ve been on our radar for a long time. Paramilitary, known to stock-pile weapons and suspected of drug trafficking.”

“Now you know why he doesn’t like law enforcement. Xavier claims he only follows the policies of the Chosen. Living independently, off the grid, that kind of thing. And, to be honest, it could be true. We’ve kept our eye on him and never caught Xavier doing anything illegal. On the other hand, the property he owns is vast. Over 200 acres, much of it wooded.”

“So it would be easy for him to hide illegal activity.” A muscle in Gavin’s powerful jaw twitched. “If something did happen to Stephanie, her stepfather could have motive. Maybe she knew something about him. Threatened to tell law enforcement.”

“It’s not out of the realm of possibility.” Claire turned onto a dirt road leading to the Whitlock house. The rain had turned it into a mud pit. She hit the brakes, eying the large puddles coated with a sheen of ice. The last thing she wanted was to be stuck on the Whitlock property waiting on a tow-truck. Especially in this weather. “Sorry, but I think we should walk the rest of the way to the house.”

Gavin nodded. Claire zipped up her coat and exited the vehicle. Her boots sank into the muck. She snagged her own cowboy hat from the rear to keep the drizzle off her face, but the frigid air, so unusual for a Texas winter, shocked her lungs.

“How far is the house?” Gavin asked. His gaze swept over the tree-lined path. Shadows lurked, big enough to hide a person in. Claire could feel the tension in his body. The hair on the back of her neck rose. It felt like they were being watched.

“The house is about 50 yards ahead of us.” Claire stepped closer to Gavin until they were shoulder to shoulder. She lowered her voice, so it wouldn’t carry on the wind. “Xavier isn’t stupid. Even if he is the one behind Faye’s murder and the shooting this morning, he’s not going to attack us while we’re on his property. It would draw too much attention.”

Gavin met her gaze. This close, she could see the specks of green and gold buried in his warm brown eyes. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach when the corner of his mouth hitched upward. “Xavier may think twice about hurting us, but stick close to me all the same, would you?”

She nodded, tearing her gaze from his. She needed to do a better job of ignoring this annoying hum of attraction between them. It could only cause trouble.

They maneuvered past a large puddle. Rain pattered against the tree leaves. It was colder in the shelter of the woods. Claire’s breath came in puffs that hung in the air. Gavin stayed close to her side, one hand on the holster of his weapon, as they followed the road to the house.

Something rustled in the trees ahead of them. Claire halted. Her gaze swept the tree line. “Who’s there?”

Xavier stepped out of the tree line. A long beard covered the lower half of his face and a ski cap hid his hair. He wore a camouflage jacket, cargo pants, and military-style boots. A rifle rested in his hands, barrel pointed upward. “You’re trespassing on my land.”

Claire stepped forward. “I need to speak to your wife, Xavier. It’s police business.”

“What kind of business do you have with Maribelle?”

“It’s about your stepdaughter, Stephanie.”

No flicker of surprise crossed Xavier’s face. Claire’s muscles tightened with tension. The video of the shooter they had was grainy and of poor quality, but Xavier was the right height and weight. The rifle in his hands was a high-powered one, similar to the make and model used by the shooter this morning.

Circumstantial evidence. But it left her with questions. Was Gavin right? Was she looking at a killer?

“Stephanie hasn’t been around for a long time, Sheriff. No need to go looking for her now.” Xavier’s expression darkened. “That girl’s a troublemaker, anyway. I guarantee, you’ll only find problems where she’s concerned.”

Was that a threat? It certainly seemed like one.

“Be that as it may, I have a job to do.” Claire jutted up her chin in a challenge. “I need to speak to your wife. If you have nothing to hide, then it’s better to answer my questions.”

Xavier’s scowl deepened. For a long moment, Claire wasn’t sure the man would let them pass. Then he turned and started up the road. “Let’s make it quick, Sheriff. I don’t like visitors.”

Claire glanced at Gavin. He’d remained silent during the entire exchange, but his hand still rested on his weapon holster. There was a fierce expression on his face. No wonder Xavier didn’t argue further.

The trees parted and a small farmhouse came into view. The front porch was swept clean, the siding freshly painted. Flower beds neatly outlined with bricks held trimmed bushes. Several plants were covered to protect them from the cold with white sheets. Clothes lines, hung between two poles, stood empty.

“Maribelle,” Xavier shouted. “Come out here. The sheriff wants a word.”

The screen door creaked as a woman stepped onto the porch. Her dark hair was threaded with gray and a washed-out dress hung on her slender frame. She didn’t have a coat on. Claire surmised a stiff wind could knock her over. Maribelle had lost a lot of weight in the last year. Was she ill? Or did they not have enough food? Xavier wasn’t the type to reach out for help if it was the latter.

Claire nodded in greeting. “Mrs. Sterling, I’m here to ask about your daughter, Stephanie. Have you heard from her recently?”

Maribelle crossed her arms over her midsection. If Claire’s question surprised her, it didn’t show in her expression. “No, ma’am.”

“When was the last time you spoke to her?”

“I don’t recall. She’s living in Houston now. I got a postcard from her a while back, letting me know she was okay.”

“Do you have the postcard? Could I see it?”

Maribelle passed a glance toward her husband and he gave a stiff nod. She disappeared back inside the house. Xavier’s attention stayed locked on Claire. Hatred oozed off him. Moments later, Maribelle returned. She’d grabbed a shawl for her shoulders and held a postcard in her hand.

Claire stepped forward to take it. She angled the card for Gavin to see. It was dated eighteen months ago and the zip code was from the Houston area. The lettering scrawled across the front appeared feminine. But there was no way to know if it was Stephanie’s without having it examined by an expert. For that, Claire needed something else Stephanie had written.

“Do you still have some of Stephanie’s things?” she asked. “A notebook from school, perhaps? Or a note she wrote?”

“No, ma’am.”

Maribelle voice was flat. Rehearsed. Claire had the sinking sensation that she’d been coached by her husband. Everything about this encounter only deepened her uneasiness about Stephanie’s whereabouts. She chewed the inside of her cheek. “Did Faye Hansen speak with you recently about Stephanie? It’s my understanding she was concerned about your daughter.”

Xavier’s glowered. “We had nothing to do with that woman’s murder. You’re testing my patience, Sheriff. We aren’t criminals, and I’m gettin’ real sick and tired of being treated like one. All we want is to be left alone.”

So he knew Faye was dead. Xavier might live in the woods, but he wasn’t as out of touch as he liked to claim. Maribelle’s expression stayed placid. They could’ve been discussing the weather for all the emotion she showed. But Claire sensed there was more going on under the surface. The older woman’s hand trembled as she tightened the shawl around her shoulders.

Claire lifted the postcard. “I’d like to take this with me, if that’s all right. I’ll return it when the investigation is complete.”

“Don’t bother.” Xavier snorted. “We don’t need it.”

Claire ignored him, keeping her gaze on Maribelle. “I’ll return it.”

For a moment, there was a flicker of something in the woman’s eyes. Gratitude? Worry? Before Claire could figure it out, Maribelle turned. She disappeared into the house. The screen door slapped closed behind her, like a gunshot.

“You’ve asked your questions.” Xavier straightened. “Now go.”

Claire turned. Gavin kept one pace behind her, using his body as a shield. Still, she felt the heat of Xavier’s gaze following her into the trees. A shiver that had nothing to do with the cold weather raced down her spine.