Cold Case in Cherokee Crossing (10 page)

Chapter Fourteen

Jaxon ushered Avery outside and encouraged her to sit in the SUV and wait. He strode over to Lieutenant Dothan and explained that they needed to process the interior of the house.

“I’ll do it myself,” Dothan said.

“Thanks. I’m going to take Avery somewhere safe for the night. Let me know what you find.”

Dothan agreed, and Jaxon joined Avery. When he cranked the engine, Avery frowned. “Where are we going?”

He had to get her away from her house. Knowing her room had been violated had to be unsettling for her, especially that damn picture of her with the knife in it. That was a blatant threat. “To my place. The crime team will call me with their findings.”

“Your place?” Avery asked in a soft rasp.

Damn. The earlier kiss taunted him. He hadn’t thought how his suggestion might sound. “I just want you to be safe tonight.” He forced his eyes on the road. “Don’t worry, Avery. You’ll have your own room.”

“I wasn’t worried,” she said softly.

His gaze cut to hers. The husky sound in her voice matched the simmering desire in those eyes.

Dammit, he was in trouble.

Heat speared him, but he forced his attention back to the road. He’d already screwed up by kissing her earlier instead of searching the house before he called CSI. Hell, what if the intruder had been there when they arrived?

He could have caught him in the act.

Although it was doubtful that he’d been present. Not that he couldn’t have sneaked out the back and disappeared into the woods....

“Uh, Jaxon,” Avery said as they drove into town. “I don’t have clothes or a toothbrush with me.”

He hadn’t considered that. “Not a problem. I’ll stop and let you pick up whatever you need.”

He veered into the parking lot of the discount store and parked. “I’ll call the prison warden and ask him to collect Hank’s mail while you run inside.”

“Can I see Hank again?” Avery asked.

“I’ll ask.”

She thanked him, then jumped out and hurried into the store.

Jaxon punched the number for the warden, keeping an eye on the door of the store in case someone had followed Avery.

“We typically examine the mail when it’s delivered, although sometimes that takes time and we fall behind,” the warden said. “I don’t recall anything suspicious. Just the typical hate mail along with the sympathizers for his cause. A couple of offers for conjugal visits. Another group wanting to rally to save him.”

“Just box it all up. I need to study the correspondence.”

The warden agreed, and Jaxon hung up. If Mulligan’s killer hadn’t trashed Avery’s house, then someone else had.

Maybe he’d find a clue as to his or her identity in those letters.

Or...it was possible that the killer felt remorse over Hank’s upcoming execution.

Enough so that he or she might have contacted Hank?

* * *

A
VERY
STRUGGLED
TO
shake off her nerves as she stepped on the front porch of Jaxon’s ranch house. The sprawling land with horses roaming free and cattle grazing was a picture of beauty. It reminded her of old Western movies about families working together and riding and...loving each other.

Like a real family.

“This is beautiful,” Avery said. “You live here alone?”

Jaxon nodded. “Yeah, I bought it a while back. I need to hire some help, though. With me gone working cases, I can’t manage it by myself.”

Nerves fluttered in her stomach. Being in his home felt...intimate.

But he’d only brought her here because she’d been threatened.

He probably brought women here all the time. Maybe not from his cases, but a man like Jaxon probably had a half dozen lovers waiting for him to call. She was probably interfering with a hot, sexy night with one of them this evening.

He opened the door and ushered her inside. “Make yourself at home, Avery. It’s not fancy, but it’s comfortable.”

Avery admired the rustic pine floors, the masculine furniture and the fireplace. It looked perfect. Like a home where a man lived.

A painting of several wild mustangs graced the wall above the couch, while another one of the famous Cherokee Crossing where the Native Americans and settlers had met to build a town hall together hung above an oak table.

“I don’t have much food in the house,” he admitted in a voice laced with regret. “But I can fix us omelets.”

“That’s fine,” Avery said, a tingle spreading up her back at the idea of Jaxon cooking for her.

He’s just doing his job,
she reminded herself.

Except that kiss had been sensual. Not just Jaxon doing his job. At least she didn’t think it was.

It felt more like Jaxon being the sexy protector. As if for a moment, Jaxon had wanted her.

But he’d pulled back and hadn’t pushed her. Which made her respect him even more. Some men would have taken advantage.

But not Jaxon.

“There’s a hall bathroom here,” he said. Then he showed her to the bedroom. “This is my room, but you can sleep in here tonight. There’s a full bath that joins the room if you want to wash up while I throw together some food.”

She glanced at the log-cabin quilt on the sleigh bed and once again felt as if she’d come home. “Thanks, I think I will.” Just seeing those ugly pictures made her feel dirty all over.

He returned to the living room, grabbed the bag of items she’d bought at the discount store and set them in the room. She grabbed the bag and ducked into the bathroom.

One glance in the mirror and she grimaced. Her hair was a wreck, what little makeup she’d put on this morning was long gone and her eyes looked...frightened.

Was she frightened of Jaxon? Or simply scared of the way he made her feel?

She flipped on the shower water and cranked it up, then peeled off her clothes. Her nipples budded to stiff peaks, her body trembling as she remembered Jaxon’s lips on hers. God help her, but she wanted to feel them on her mouth again.

She closed her eyes as the hot water sluiced over her, and she imagined the door sliding open and Jaxon stepping inside with her. She could almost feel his big hands running over her shoulders, down her arms, then touching her waist as he drew her closer. She leaned her head back, her body tingling as she imagined his lips on her neck, his tongue teasing her earlobe.

Naked body against naked body...

She jerked her eyes open, so hot she could hardly breathe.

What in the world was happening to her? She never fantasized about being with a man....

Disturbed by her train of thought, especially in light of the fact that she needed Jaxon to help clear Hank, she flipped the water to cold, rinsed off, then climbed out and dried off. She slipped on the pajamas she’d bought to sleep in, then brushed through her damp hair.

Jaxon was not interested in her. He had simply been comforting her because she’d been a trembling mess earlier. He would have done the same for any woman who’d been in need.

She was just so inexperienced that she’d read more into it.

She absolutely had to get control of herself and focus on finding Hank’s killer.

For heaven’s sake, he could be put to death by the end of the week.

And that would be her fault.

Reality sobered her, and she opened the door. Steam oozed from the bathroom, and her breath caught at the sight of Jaxon by the bed.

“I put clean sheets on for you,” he said.

Her gaze met his, her earlier fantasy taunting her. She wanted to ask him to join her in bed, to beg him to touch her all over and kiss her again.

His gaze raked over her, heat simmering between them.

Instead of coming toward her, though, he backed toward the kitchen. “The food is ready.”

Disappointment snaked through her. But freeing Hank was more important than her own needs, so she followed him into the kitchen.

* * *

J
AXON
CLEANED
UP
the dishes after their meal and was grateful when Avery retired to the bedroom. Having her in his kitchen, in his house, his shower and now his bedroom was wreaking havoc on his common sense.

It also felt intimate, something he hadn’t shared with a woman in... Something he’d never shared with a woman. He liked his bachelor status, his nights of sex, but his mornings without a woman to push him for more.

Oddly the thought of waking up beside Avery didn’t panic him.

It should, dammit.

He knew he wouldn’t sleep much tonight, not with Avery in his bed. Not unless he joined her, and that wasn’t going to happen.

Determined to focus on work, he spread out the files on the Tierney case and studied them once more. He scribbled Mulligan’s name at the top of a legal pad, then Hank and Avery’s names below.

As much as he hated to admit it, Avery was still a suspect. She was left-handed, and even though she had only been nine, fear could trigger an adrenaline rush that could have given her the strength to stab Mulligan.

If she had killed him, it would also explain why she’d blocked out the traumatic memory. And an attorney could plead self-defense.

But how would Avery handle knowing that she was the reason her brother had been behind bars for twenty years?

She already harbored too much guilt.

He rubbed a hand over his chin. Hell, did he honestly believe Avery had killed her foster father?

He scribbled the names of the D.A. and public defender who’d handled the case, knowing he needed to talk to them.

Next he listed the social workers—Delia Hanover and Erma Brant.

Delia had claimed not to know about the abuse. What about Erma?

He would speak to her next.

Below those names he wrote a list of the foster children they knew about.

Shane Fowler—body shop owner—claimed to know of the abuse.

Lois Thacker—now a cop—knew of abuse. Had the right temperament? But right-handed.

Lenny Ames—committed suicide.

Dotty—dead.

Imogene Wilson—in a psychiatric hospital—confessed to murder, but delusional.

Imogene’s brother, BJ—drug addict who hated Mulligan—no solid alibi.

Any one of the fosters had motive.

He remembered the autopsy and realized he needed to find out which one of them had been left-handed.

Other than Avery.

* * *

A
VERY
CURLED
INTO
Jaxon’s bed, the day’s events traipsing through her mind. She and Jaxon had made headway toward proving Hank’s innocence. At least the autopsy might help.

But time was running out.

She tossed and turned, but finally buried her head into the pillow. Although Jaxon had changed the bedding, his strong masculine scent permeated the room. She closed her eyes and imagined his big muscular arms enveloping her, and her breathing steadied.

Jaxon was in the next room. He would protect her.

She was safe for tonight.

Tomorrow they would find a way to clear her brother.

Slowly she drifted to sleep, but the nightmare came again....

She was back at the Mulligans’ old house, curled in her bed, the covers tugged up to her neck. Joleen was gone, and Wade had come in, blustering again.

He didn’t like the dinner she’d cooked for him and Hank. She’d made tomato soup and grilled-cheese sandwiches, and he wanted meat.

She clenched her teddy bear, checked to make sure the stick was still under the bed, closed her eyes and finally fell asleep, praying he’d leave her alone tonight. But some time later, the door burst open, jarring her. Then Hank’s voice.

“Leave her alone,” Hank shouted.

The fists came next. Hank was fighting Wade, but Wade was dragging him across the hall back to his room.

Rain pattered on the tin roof. Suddenly the wind swirled through the house. She looked over and saw the curtains flapping against the windowsill.

Then a voice whispered, “It’ll be all right.”

A woman’s voice... But whose?

Footsteps sounded and fear clawed at her chest. He was coming into her bedroom again.

She screamed, and then everything went dark....

Some time later, Hank’s shout jolted her from the darkness. He was beside the bed, pulling something from her hands. She clenched it tighter, but he pried her fingers loose.

“Give it to me, sis,” he said in a low voice. “It’s okay now.”

Her fingers loosened. The room swirled, colors dancing in front of her eyes. Red, then black. Blood. Everywhere.

She looked down and saw blood on her hands.

Then Hank knelt over Wade. Wade was on the floor, not moving. More blood. Hank raised the knife and jabbed it into the man’s chest.

She screamed again, a scream that echoed off the cold walls....

“Avery!” The door burst open, and she jerked awake. Her heart was racing, her body trembling. For a moment, she was so lost in the nightmare that she was disoriented. She didn’t know where she was.

Didn’t realize who the man was in the doorway.

Mulligan... He’d come back to get her.

She cried out as he strode to the bed. The mattress sagged; then he reached for her, and she swung her fists at him.

She had to get away....

* * *

J
AXON
BRACED
HIMSELF
as he drew Avery against him, but she beat at him with her fists, her scream punctuating the air as she tried to push him away.

Dammit, she was in the throes of a nightmare.

Or...a memory.

He murmured soft words, trying to soothe her. “Avery, wake up, it’s me, Jaxon.”

Sweat rolled down his neck. Her scream had sent a streak of cold terror through him. He’d run to the bedroom in a panic, fearing the worst. Someone was trying to kill her. Someone who’d followed them here and broken in.

Her cries echoed in the room, a haunting sound that made his blood go cold.

He cradled her closer. Avery was safe. At least physically.