Lawman's Perfect Surrender (18 page)

Waiting a beat or two, the medical examiner pulled down the white sheet.

Martha burst into greater sobs.

“Yes,” Hallie choked. “That’s him. That’s my dad.” Then she buried her face against her grandmother and the two cried, holding each other.

Gemma wiped away her own tears rolling down her face. Damn that Samuel Grayson. He had to be stopped.

“He was hit on the head with a blunt object,” the medical examiner said to Ford. “Probably before he was hanged.”

Just like Jed and Michael, the technician.

Dillon moved to Hallie and her grandmother, putting his hand on Hallie’s back and rubbing gently.

Hallie turned into his arms. “Bo Fargo can’t get away with this.”

“It’s Samuel who’s behind it, Hallie,” Dillon said. “He’s the one who did this.”

Ford put his arm around Martha, who leaned against him and looked forlornly toward the drawer. The medical examiner had covered the body again.

“My son was murdered,” Martha lamented. Then she looked up at Ford. “You have to do something.”

“I’ll catch the killer. You have my word.”

Gemma felt his resolve ring true. Ford wouldn’t give up until he found justice for all of Bo and Samuel’s victims.

* * *

After driving Dillon, Martha and Hallie back to Cold Plains, Ford and Gemma returned to Shady Meadows. Ford wanted to check around town and ask a few questions. He was quiet all the way to their motel. Gemma wondered if he was thinking about Felix or if it bothered him to be alone with her again. She was stuck with him, and it was beginning to really weigh on her that she might be pregnant. Maybe she’d pick up a test. No point in upsetting him if it was a false alarm. She’d have to figure out how to get the test without him knowing, though.

She could just see him catching her standing in front of the pregnancy tests.

What are you doing?
he’d ask.

To which she’d have no reply. Somehow,
Oh, I thought these were the tampons,
wouldn’t fly.

Entering the motel room, he dropped the overnight bag they’d decided to share outside the bathroom.

“Are you hungry?”

She shook her head. Her nerves had wiped out all her hunger pains.

“Is something wrong?”

“No.” She tried to sound cheery.
A-okay. Never better. Nothing wrong here. Nope.

Oh, by the way, I think I’m pregnant.

He stood in the middle of the room, uncharacteristically awkward. He rubbed the back of his neck. Glanced at the door as if contemplating escaping for a little while. Gemma began to feel ill at ease.

“Is something wrong with you?”

Dropping his hand, he turned his head toward her. “Me? No. I just notice how sometimes you seem…upset about something.”

Crap. “Me?”

“Yeah.”

“Then stop acting like it’s killing you to be in the same room with me.”

He stared at her. “It is.”

That threatened to send her into a meltdown. It was killing him because he wanted her. “Then do something about it.” She wished she could take the words back as soon as she said them. She couldn’t think clearly when he was around.

“Trust me, I’d like to.”

She may as well forge ahead. “What’s stopping you?”

“If we continue like this, we might not be able to walk away from it.”

A sharp stab of despondency slammed her. He would walk away? “Don’t you mean
you
won’t be able to walk away?”

He sighed a heavy breath and ran his fingers through his thick, blond hair, confirmation enough for her.

“Why would you walk away?” He was that sure?

“It’s not you, it’s…”

His family. His wife. His unborn baby. “Are you that afraid of losing another person you love?” That had to be the crux of his emotional trouble.

“I’m not afraid, I just…I can’t be involved with anyone right now.”

“How will you know when you can?”

“What are you asking? Are you ready for another relationship?”

She lowered her head. She’d always told herself that she needed to heal from Jed’s destruction before she gave love a try again. Before she could learn to trust a man again. Had Jed’s murder and all the trouble Samuel caused diverted her from that goal? She’d no longer have the seminars to help her. She couldn’t possibly be ready, and yet… She lifted her head.

“Now you see my point.”

He was turning this all back onto her. “Ford, you haven’t let go of your guilt over not being able to save your family.” And then his wife had died during childbirth. Had he ever known love without losing it to tragedy?

“I have let go. I spend every day of my life atoning for that. Avenging them. I do what I do for them. Not because I feel guilty.”

“And your wife? What about her death?” She didn’t have to add that he’d lost his unborn son as well.

He pointed his finger at her. “Don’t.”

His family’s murders and the death of his wife and son had marred him irrevocably. “I’m not going to die, Ford.”

“It’s not that.”

“Isn’t it?”

He stared his warning.

“You’re afraid of falling in love.”

“I’m not afraid,” he snapped.

He was. He was terrified. He couldn’t bear to lose another person he loved. So he guarded himself against it. He made sure he didn’t feel enough to make it impossible to walk away. As long as he knew he could walk away, he felt safe. He might tell himself that some day, when he was ready, he’d try love again. But he’d never be ready unless he faced his fear.

What would it do to him if she was pregnant?

* * *

Gemma trotted to keep up with Ford’s long, angry strides. He was still mad at her for pinning him with a hurtful truth last night. Well, that truth hurt her, too. He still denied that his wife’s and baby’s deaths kept him shying away from love. The big, strong, tough cop couldn’t possibly be afraid of something as harmless as love. But he was.

They’d spent the night in separate beds. She’d lain awake tortured by his closeness, wondering how he separated not wanting to lose another person he loved with fear of love. Maybe he felt that as long as it was his cognitive decision, it wasn’t fear.

She followed him up the steps of an old, rundown cabin. The sheriff had said Felix’s body had been found just outside of town, not far from the road leading here. This was the only house within reasonable distance.

Ford knocked. No one answered. “There’s no one there.”

Gemma turned with Ford. A boy riding a mountain bike and dressed in khaki shorts and a green T-shirt had stopped in the driveway, his curly red hair springing out from under a baseball cap.

“You lost?” the boy asked.

“Do you live near here?” Ford countered non-committally.

“Yeah, over that mountain there.” He pointed. “On a ranch.”

“Do you know the people who live here in this cabin?”

“There’s just one. A man. A real loner. My mom says she feels sorry for him because he doesn’t have any family. He only comes here for the summer. Has a house in Florida. Must’ve decided to stay there this year. Nobody’s seen him. How come you’re here?”

“A man was murdered recently and we wanted to ask him if he saw anything.”

“Oh, yeah, I heard about that. He was dumped just at the end of this driveway.” The boy pointed there. “Do you think he did it?”

“We don’t know yet. Thanks for your help.”

“See ya around.” The boy peddled off, glancing back at them once, his bike zigzagging as he picked up speed down the driveway, veering off at a trail.

“So much for asking the neighbors,” Gemma said.

Ford began walking around the cabin, stopping at a window to peer in. Drapes blocked his view. He continued along the side and peered in another window. Something must have caught his eye because he returned to the front door.

“Back up, Gemma.”

She did. “What are you going to do?”

Her answer came when he lifted his leg and kicked, breaking the wood holding the door shut. It swung open and Gemma was immediately accosted by a horrible stench.

Gagging, she covered her mouth and nose. Around Ford’s big frame, she saw a man hanging from a rope. A badly decomposed man. His clothes hung, dirty and stained, on rotting flesh.

She screamed.

Ford stepped inside, already reaching for his cell phone. He hadn’t bothered with his gun. The man had obviously been dead a long time. Shaking, she watched him go to the chair near the body and look down at a baseball bat. Jed’s killer had used one on him. And in all likelihood, Felix, too. That and the proximity to Felix’s body suggested this man had seen something that had cost him his life. The sheriff had probably knocked and when no one answered, assumed the man was still in Florida.

Gemma watched Ford search around the house, unable to look as he went through the man’s clothing. Nothing else must have turned up because he ushered her out of the house empty-handed.

“Why does the killer leave baseball bats at the scene?” she asked.

“Must be his method. He knocks his victims out and then hangs them. Catches them unaware so there’s no struggle. No noise. Killing them is easy. He’s careful not to leave any prints or other evidence. Only the ropes and the bats.”

“But he doesn’t leave a bat at every scene.”

“No. Which tells me he didn’t want Felix to be connected to the other murders. Jed and Michael, he wanted connected.”

“In case he had to pin me with both?”

“Could be. Leaving the weapon is ballsy, though.”

“He must not be afraid of being caught.”

“No. But that could work in our favor.”

Because the killer was overconfident. Because he had Samuel backing him, or so he believed. Gemma shuddered. She wished all this would end. She’d moved to Cold Plains to find peace, not to encounter one dead body after another.

“Come on,” Ford said. “The sheriff is on the way. I don’t want to be here too long.”

As he drove down the driveway and onto the highway, she recognized a car parked along the side of the road. The same one that had been outside the forensic scientist’s house. And inside the car were Alan and the same driver as before.

Ford cursed. He hadn’t wanted Samuel to learn what he’d discovered. “Let’s get our things and drive back to your place tonight.”

Gemma was in complete agreement. She’d get no sleep whatsoever knowing they were being watched. But would they be any less watched back in Cold Plains?

Chapter 10

D
illon’s dad was hell bent on going to the community center again tonight. Dillon reclined on the family-room sectional, tossing a football up into the air and catching it. He was waiting for Hallie. She was coming over tonight. His parents were in the kitchen on the other side of the wall. His Mom hadn’t been drinking and was thinking clearly again. So far the argument was benign, but he could hear the tension building in his dad.

He hadn’t told his parents he’d gone to Shady Meadow to identify Hallie’s dad. He didn’t trust his own dad.

“You’re going, and you’ll act like a wife is supposed to act,” his dad yelled. He hadn’t yelled until now.

“That would be fine if I had a husband who acted the way a husband was supposed to act!”

Curtis swore viciously.

Catching the football again, Dillon put it on the couch next to him and jumped to his feet.

“You can’t boss me around anymore, Curtis. I’m not going to any more seminars. I’m also not going to any event where that repulsive Samuel Grayson will be!”

“I’m sick of your back talk. You’ll do what I tell you to do from now on, you hear me?”

Dillon entered the kitchen just as his dad slugged his mom. Her head jerked back and to the side with the impact and she cried out in pain.

Furious, Dillon stormed between them, slapping his hand on his dad’s chest and shoving hard. His dad stumbled backward, startled. Dillon swung his fist and smashed his dad in the eye. Curtis grunted and stumbled again. He was a big man. It would take a lot to knock him down.

“Touch her again and you’ll get more of that.”

His dad was so stunned he didn’t say anything.

“Mom isn’t going to go to those stupid seminars anymore.”

As he recovered from the surprise of his son’s punch, Curtis’s anger diminished. He turned to Dillon’s mom. “Honey? You know I only want what’s best for you. Sometimes that means you should do what I tell you.”

With her hand on her cheek, his mom only looked at him incredulously.

“What’s best for her is for you to keep your hands off her,” Dillon said.

“Stay out of this, Dillon. Your mother and I have a life here that I’m trying to preserve.”

“No,
you
have a life here,” his mom said. “My life is going to be somewhere else.” She dropped her hand from her cheek. “I want a divorce.”

Pride and satisfaction and love expanded in Dillon.

“You’ve abused me for the last time,” she added. “And so has Samuel.”

“Samuel wouldn’t hurt you. You don’t understand. He’s a positive influence on everyone.”

“He’s only looking out for
himself.
You’re just too brainwashed to see it.”

“No, you don’t understand.”

She turned for the stairs. “I’m going to pack a few things now and I’ll be back for the rest later.” She paused on the stairs. “Dillon, where have you been staying?”

“At Martha and Hallie Taylor’s. There’s plenty of room for you there. I’ll call them.”

“I won’t impose. Maybe we should find another place, at least until the divorce is final.”

“Don’t worry about a place to stay. There are no Samuel sympathizers at Hallie’s. They’ll welcome you with open arms.” He looked pointedly at his dad, who was beginning to seem broken. Desperate.

He’d have to watch him. And his mom. He’d make sure she was safe.

“You’re tearing this family apart,” Curtis told his son.

Dillon went to stand at the bottom of the stairs, blocking his dad’s path in case he decided to follow his mom. “You hit her.”

“You don’t know what you’re doing. We were a perfect family.”

“Is that what all your friends over at the community center think? Do they know how many times you beat your wife?”