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CHAPTER FOURTEEN

M orning sunshine filtered through the trees as Claire stepped onto Maribelle Sterling’s front porch. The weathered wood creaked under her boots. She was dreading this conversation. A death notification was never easy, but Xavier’s potential involvement in the murder made things even more complicated.

Gavin stepped onto the porch beside Claire. His broad shoulders were encased in a heavy jacket, his holstered weapon visible underneath. Strength and competence oozed from him. The hardened man next to her was a far cry from the one who’d tenderly hugged her son yesterday. Both made her heart skip a beat.

She shook off her wayward thoughts. There was a possibility Gavin would close this case, leave town, and never look back. She would be wise to guard her heart. Along with her son’s. They hadn’t been enough for her ex-husband. There was no need to risk being hurt like that again.

Claire formed a fist and knocked on the front door. Shuffling came from inside moments before the curtain on a nearby window shifted. Half of Maribelle’s face was visible. A watery blue eye widened at the sight of them on her porch, but she didn’t move to open the door.

“I need to speak to you, Mrs. Whitlock.” Claire held up the postcard she’d taken from Stephanie’s mother during their last conversation. “It’s about your daughter. It’s important.”

The curtain fluttered again as Maribelle disappeared from sight. Seconds later, the lock snicked and the front door opened. Claire cast a quick glance at Gavin before focusing on the older woman in front of them. Maribelle wore a threadbare dress and fraying slippers. A shawl—the ratty one from before—was wrapped around her narrow shoulders. Her gaunt face was impossibly thin, the cheekbones threatening to poke through the skin.

“May we come in, Mrs. Whitlock?” Claire asked. Gavin’s hand was discreetly on his weapon. He caught the meaning in the glance she’d given him. They would work as a team. She would distract Maribelle while he made sure Xavier wasn’t hiding in the house.

The older woman waved her in. Claire crossed over the threshold. “Is someone here with you?”

“No.” Maribelle wrapped the shawl tighter around her shoulders. The interior of the home wasn’t any warmer than outside. A wooden stove sat unused in the center of the living room. “Xavier hasn’t been here for days.”

“Do you know where he is?”

She shook her head. Her gaze followed Gavin as he crossed to the opposite side of the room before settling back on Claire. “Xavier doesn’t keep me informed about his whereabouts. You said there was news about Stephanie? What is it?”

“Let’s sit down.” Claire steered Stephanie’s mother toward a scratched kitchen table. Maribelle looked ready to collapse on her feet. A pot of tea was steaming on the stove. Claire gathered a crack cup from the drying rack and poured some. She pushed it toward Maribelle with a gentle smile. “It’s cold today.”

“It is.” She wrapped her hands around the mug. Her voice was hoarse as if rarely used. “Please, Sheriff…I need to know about my daughter.”

Claire pulled out a chair and sat. There was no easy way to say this. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Whitlock, but yesterday, we discovered your daughter’s body inside her vehicle. She was murdered.”

Maribelle blinked. Her chin trembled. “And the note?”

Claire set the postcard on the table. “We had this analyzed. Stephanie didn’t write it.”

Her hands tightened around the mug. Tears leaked from her eyes, but there was no shock or denial. Claire let out a breath. “You suspected she was dead?”

Maribelle nodded. “My daughter wouldn’t have cut off communication with me. She didn’t get along with Xavier. That’s no secret, but we were very close.” She nibbled her lip. “I’m sorry, Sheriff. Faye’s death is my fault. Last month, she came to visit me in the hospital. I’m sick. Heart failure. I asked her to look for Stephanie…I wanted my baby found.”

“Why didn’t you come to me with your suspicions?”

“I didn’t think you would believe me. I figured if Faye tried to look for Stephanie, and couldn’t find her, she would ask you to reopen the case.”

Claire tamped down the anger threatening to flood her veins. Maribelle wasn’t responsible for Faye’s death, but she could’ve aided the investigation. They’d been on her front porch a week ago and she’d said nothing. But Xavier had been there. “Your husband didn’t want you to look for Stephanie, did he?”

“No. Xavier…” She swallowed hard. “He’s a difficult man. Stephanie didn’t approve of the way he treated me. It caused many arguments. But he didn’t kill my daughter, if that’s what you’re asking. Xavier was here with me the night that Stephanie disappeared.”

Claire stilled. Was Maribelle lying? She could be protecting Xavier. “Can you be certain your husband had nothing to do with Stephanie’s murder?”

“Absolutely. Xavier is capable of bad things, but he didn’t kill Stephanie.”

“Does he hurt you?”

Maribelle didn’t answer. Her gaze was locked on the tea in front of her. Claire felt, rather than heard, Gavin standing near the front door. He was keeping guard, but not intruding on the conversation.

Claire placed a hand on Maribelle’s arm. The bones were delicate and thin, like a bird. “If you want to leave Xavier, I can protect you. He won’t harm you ever again.”

“Where would I go? I have no money. I’m ill?—”

“We can make arrangements. For starters, you can stay in a cabin on my family’s property.” She tilted her head to look Maribelle in the eye. “Let’s get you someplace warm and then we can figure out the next steps.”

Maribelle hesitated. “I won’t answer questions about my husband, Sheriff. Or about the Chosen. It’s a risk to leave here with you. Betraying Xavier any further would put me in serious danger.”

“You’re protected under the law, Mrs. Whitlock. I can’t compel you to testify against your husband or answer my questions about him. You would have to waive your right of spousal privilege. I understand why you wouldn’t.”

The woman was terrified of her husband. Claire’s immediate concern was getting Maribelle some place safe. But the older woman’s statement confirmed Xavier was conducting illegal activity on his property. Did it also mean she was lying about where her husband was on the night of Stephanie’s murder? It was possible. But Claire’s gut said Maribelle was telling the truth. The love she had for her daughter was obvious. It seemed unlikely she would protect Stephanie’s murderer, even if it meant risking her own life.

Maribelle placed her hand over Claire’s and squeezed. “Faye said you were nice, that I could trust you. She was right.”

Those kind words sent a wave of unexpected grief crashing through Claire. Oh Faye, what I wouldn’t give to speak to you now. One last conversation…to say all the things she hadn’t in life. It was a regret she’d carry with her forever. Claire had been in survival mode for so long, she’d forgotten how to express her feelings to those she loved.

Was she making the same mistake with Gavin? She hadn’t told him how she truly felt. She was so busy trying to protect her heart, she hadn’t shared what was in it.

Maribelle released Claire’s hand and sat back in her chair. She licked her lips nervously. “I need to tell you something, but no one can know you found out about it from me. Please give me your word.”

“You have it.”

“My daughter was seeing someone secretly. She was in love, but I was concerned the young man didn’t feel the same. That he was playing with my daughter’s feelings. His family didn’t approve of Stephanie.” Maribelle’s lips flattened into a thin line. “Then she ended up pregnant. Stephanie said she was getting married and then…”

She’d been killed. Claire’s mind whirled with possibilities. She leaned forward. “Do you know who Stephanie was secretly dating?”

Maribelle nodded, lifting her gaze to meet Claire’s. “Ian Scott, the mayor’s son.”

Gavin’s hands tightened on the steering wheel as he maneuvered around a tractor stuttering along the two-lane country road. His mind raced as quickly as his tires rotated against the asphalt. He’d known there was something strange about their interactions with Ian Scott. Could he have killed his secret girlfriend when she became pregnant? Sadly, that type of scenario was far too common. Especially if Ian felt trapped between his family’s expectations and Stephanie’s.

He certainly had the clout to determine who the next sheriff would be. His father was the mayor and his wife worked for City Hall. Convincing them to hire someone Ian had selected would be a simple matter.

In the passenger seat beside him, Claire hung up her phone and tossed it in the cup holder. “Ian called in sick this morning, but no one is answering the phone at his house. His cell is turned off. Something about this isn’t right.”

“Do you think he’d run? We found Stephanie’s body yesterday. Ian could be on a Mexican beach by now.”

“I doubt it.” She gripped the door handle as Gavin sped through a yellow light. “Ian wasn’t honest with us about his relationship with Stephanie, but there could be several reasons why. We can’t assume he’s the killer.”

Gavin tapped the brakes as he turned into Ian’s neighborhood. Within moments, they parked in the mansion’s driveway. The front door swung open and a female housekeeper in a black uniform rushed out. Her eyes were wide with fear. In one hand, she held a cell phone.

“Thank goodness you got here so quickly.” The woman’s words tumbled out. From the cell phone’s speaker, a voice demanded answers. The housekeeper was on the phone with emergency services. Tears rolled down her face. “Mr. Scott has a gun. I don’t know what he plans to do with it.”

“Where is he?” Gavin barked out, his hand immediately flying to his own weapon.

“In his bedroom. I think he’s been drinking. When I went in to clean, he screamed for me to stay away. I’ve never seen him so angry.”

“Is anyone else in the house?” Claire asked. She’d palmed her own weapon.

“Kylie, the other housekeeper, is still upstairs. I tried to get her to come with me to call the police, but she wouldn’t move…”

The rest of her sentence dissolved into sobs. She was shaking uncontrollably. Gavin ordered her to stay put and then quickly jogged up the walkway to the front door. It hung open. “Police, Mr. Scott. I’m coming in.”

There was no reply. Claire appeared by his side, her tone sharp as she relayed instructions to dispatch. The radio crackled. Backup was ten minutes away.

A lot could happen in ten minutes. Ian was armed and possibly drunk. Killer or not, he wasn’t acting rationally. There was an innocent woman still in the house. Gavin had to find her before she was harmed. He crossed the threshold, gun outstretched. The tiled entryway was empty. A spiral staircase led to the upper floor. Gavin’s boots didn’t make a sound as he ascended.

Claire stayed close, her own weapon raised. Near the landing, she whispered, “The housekeeper said the bedroom is at the end of the hall.”

He was glad she’d had the presence of mind to ask because Gavin hadn’t. He adjusted the grip on his weapon. Sweat beaded along his hairline. He listened for any sound, but the house was quiet. The ornate double doors leading to the bedroom were shut. Thick carpeting sank under his feet and the hallway smelled of elderflower and whiskey.

Gavin slid alongside the bedroom doors. “Ian Scott, this is the police. Put your weapon down and come out with your hands up.”

Silence. Gavin glanced at Claire as she reached for the door handle. Time seemed to stop as their gazes held. Adrenaline sharpened his senses, imprinting everything about Claire in his brain. The loose strand of hair curving around her neck, the smattering of freckles on her nose, the determination in her crystal blue eyes. Emotions Gavin couldn’t name rolled through him like a hurricane. They threatened to unmoor him.

He was falling in love with her. Right or wrong, good timing or not, the truth smacked him clear across the face. There was no going back. He would lay down his life for this woman. Not because it was his job, but because his heart demanded it.

Lord, I don’t know where you’re leading me, but I’m trusting in You. Guide me. Keep us safe.

“Ready?” Claire whispered.

Gavin relaxed the iron grip on his weapon and then nodded sharply. She pushed on the handle. The door was unlocked. Sobs filtered into the hall from inside the bedroom. Claire shoved the door open fully and Gavin swung inside, gun raised.

It was a sitting area. Silk couches were arranged near a fireplace. Thick drapes, drawn tight, cast the entire room in shadows. The scent of whiskey grew stronger. Several empty bottles were scattered around the room.

A woman was crouched in the corner. The shoulders of her housekeeper’s uniform shook with the force of her sobs. Cleaning supplies spilled across the carpet. Claire hurried over, crouching next to the housekeeper. Her voice was a whisper as she grasped the woman’s arm and tugged her into a standing position.

Gavin kept moving, searching for Ian. Another set of double doors led to an interior room. A four-poster bed came into view. The covers were twisted, dangling off the mattress to skim the floor. A familiar noise reached Gavin’s ears, but for a moment, he couldn’t place what it was. Then it struck him. It was the sound of a barrel spinning. Was Ian playing Russian roulette?

Taking a deep breath to counteract the burst of fresh adrenaline, Gavin entered the bedroom. It was empty. Another door led to an office with wood paneling. Ian was seated at the desk. Clothes wrinkled and stained, he sported a full beard. His hair was wild, standing on end, as if he’d been running his hands through it. The stark light from the lamp cast menacing shadows on his face. A half-drunk bottle of whiskey sat at his elbow.

He held a pistol in one hand, pointed to his own temple.

Gavin lifted his own weapon. As long as Ian held a gun, he presented a danger to himself and others. It wasn’t a risk to take lightly. “Mr. Scott, it’s Texas Ranger Gavin Sterling. Slowly put the gun down on the desk and raise your hands.”

Ian’s gaze lifted. His eyes were bloodshot. “No. I don’t deserve to live. Stephanie’s dead because of me.”

Gavin’s heart stuttered. He wanted to ask questions, but the priority was saving Ian’s life. “Whatever happened, we can sort it out. I can help you?—”

“Help me? You can’t help me. I can’t prove my father killed her. You won’t be able to either. He’s too smart for the both of us.”

Shock reverberated through Gavin. His mind struggled to fit what he’d gathered about the case with Ian’s accusation. “Put the gun down. Let’s talk about it. We’ll figure out a way to get justice for Stephanie.”

“Dad was incensed when he found out I was dating her.” Ian took a swig of whiskey, never lowering the gun from his temple. A tear leaked from one bloodshot eye, trailing a track down his cheek. “I loved Stephanie. We started seeing each other in secret, and suddenly, my entire world fell into place. She wasn’t interested in my money or my last name. It was the first time in my life anyone cared about my dreams. I was going to marry her. We…we were going to have a family.”

His face flushed as his tone turned hard. “But she didn’t fit into the vision Dad had for me. The great Patrick Scott needs a family who can play the political game. A son to follow in his footsteps, with the perfect wife, and the experience to be a US senator.”

Movement behind Ian caught Gavin’s attention. Claire was visible through another open door leading into a hallway. Her gaze was locked on the mayor’s son. She edged forward. What was she doing?

Ian laughed, but there was no mirth in it. “I hate politics. It’s the last thing I want to do.”

Gavin fixed his gaze on the man in front of him. “I need you to put the gun down now.”

Ian ignored him, taking another swig of whiskey. “My dad confessed he’d offered Stephanie $100,000 to leave town and never speak to me again. He said she took the money.” He rose from the chair, tension coiling his body. His face was mottled with rage. “That was a lie. All this time, I thought Stephanie betrayed me. Betrayed us. But she didn’t. My father never gave her the money. He murdered her and buried her in the lake so no one would find out.”

Claire took another step forward into the room. She was three paces from Ian. Gavin’s chest tightened as he realized her intentions. She was attempting to disarm the man. It was reckless and extremely dangerous. Gavin tried to meet her gaze, but Claire’s sole focus was on Ian.

“Put the gun down.” Desperation bled into Gavin’s voice. “There’s no need to do this. You aren’t responsible for Stephanie’s death. She wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.”

Ian swayed, seemingly to struggle with his emotions. “I didn’t kill her, but I’m the reason Stephanie’s dead. My sweet, sweet love…” Tears rolled down his cheeks. “I’m so sorry.”

His finger slid to the trigger. Gavin took a step forward, but the desk blocked his path. “No, Ian!”

Claire leapt, flying through the air and tackling Ian. They collided with the desk. Items toppled over and the lamp shattered as it hit the edge. Gavin made a grab for Ian and missed. The mayor’s son and Claire slid to the floor, a tangle of arms and legs.

The gun fired.