Page 95 of His Forgotten Colton Fiancee

Weak.

West couldn’tafford to be weak. Men who let their guard down allowed murderers to creep inside their homes, destroy their entire families. A family who had relied on his dad to keep them safe.

“I figured something happened with the both of you.”

“She broke it off with me.” West looked him in the eye, man-to-man. “I did something I’m not proud of, but it was part of my job. It’s her prerogative to tellyou, if she wishes.”

Brayden nodded. He glanced at the bar. “It isn’t easy having Rusty for a dad. I’m sure Quinn has her moments, as well. Know I do. My old man isn’t a pillar of society. He’s not so bad at times. But when he gets drunk, he gets mean. Like having two personalities.”

“Did you get any information from Rusty? From anyone?” West asked.

Brayden shook his head. “It’s likethe guy who did this simply vanished into thin air.”

But West suspected he had not. He’d stuck around to attack Quinn again. And some unsubs liked to hover. They’d keep trophies from their vics, or return to the crime scene to admire their handiwork. Red Ridge wasn’t a big city, and it wouldn’t be as easy to blend. You’d almost have to be in disguise...

Two personalities.

West rubbedhis sore knuckles, his thoughts in a maelstrom. All this time he’d been focusing on Quinn and Tia, not the first bombing. There could have been something he totally missed.

Something so subtle and yet obvious, it passed him by.

“You going back to the station? Want to grab lunch someplace else?” Brayden asked.

“Thanks,” he said, meaning it. “Another time. There’s something I need tocheck out first.”

* * *

He returned home, walked Rex and grabbed an energy bar for lunch.

Then with Rex, he returned to the site of Tia’s office.

The crime scene had been released to Tia’s family, but they were feuding over her will. So the bomb site remained, the ghostly ashes and wreckage a grim reminder of a violent death.

West stood outside the building once more, not tofind evidence, but refresh his memory.

Thirty minutes later, he sat at his desk at the Red Ridge Police Department, Rex lying on the floor beside him. West scribbled notes on a pad, jotting down recollections experienced while rummaging through the building. Sensory ones.

He’d focused on connecting the bombing with the Groom Killer. But everything pointed to the explosions being separate,a means to kill Tia.

That cigar stump he’d found at the scene... Quinn reported her attacker on the street reeked of cigar smoke.

Tia’s killer may have indulged in a smoke before murdering her. He needed the DNA report on that evidence. Mike had assured him he’d have it today.

West leaned back in his chair, studying the artist’s rendering of the man Quinn had remembered. Somethingabout the shape of his chin...

He made a phone call to Derek, the police artist. An hour later, they were seated before a computer screen, the digitized sketch on the screen. The software program they used would enable him to adjust the sketch.

West tapped on the suspect’s hair. “Make his hair greasy, get rid of the cowlick.”

Derek adjusted the image.

“Cheeks fatter, nose morebulbous with a few broken veins, green eyes instead of brown, eyebrows thicker and blacker,” West instructed.

When they were finished, Derek whistled. “Do you know this guy?”

The man on the screen only slightly resembled the one pulled from Quinn’s scrambled memories. But he knew this man. He’d interviewed him.

Cotton in the cheeks made lean cheeks fuller, darker eyebrows, green contactlenses, a body suit to appear fatter than the unsub truly was...