C.J. Miller – Colton's Texas Stakeout (страница 2)

“We have undercover FBI agents and police officers across the state looking for Regina. She hasn’t turned up. She’s getting help from someone,” Sam said. He folded his arms and looked pointedly at Jesse.

Annabel flinched, sensing Sam was pushing Jesse too hard. He had come to the police station on his own accord. If he was involved with a murderer, he would avoid the police. Something about his face and his body language told Annabel he was telling the truth about Regina, and that was disappointing. He didn’t know where Regina was, and, therefore, they still didn’t have a solid lead to follow.

That didn’t mean Regina wouldn’t turn up at Jesse’s farm in the near future, but for now, Jesse wasn’t hiding her.

“I can see I’ve wasted my time coming down here,” Jesse said and stood to leave.

He wasn’t under arrest, and they couldn’t hold him and barrage him with questions. As he walked toward the door, Annabel shut off the speaker and hurried back toward the information desk. Her assignment was the dullest in the entire department, and she’d pretend she hadn’t been listening to the conversation.

As she rounded the corner, she slammed into Jesse and lost her balance. He smelled of earth and spices, a masculine, clean scent. He reached to steady her, grabbing her arm with his free hand, his Stetson in the other. His grip was strong and firm. Her heart fluttered as she lifted her gaze to meet his. As their eyes met, she was struck all over again by how devastatingly handsome he was and how his green eyes seemed to see into her soul. Electricity and heat snapped between them. Annabel didn’t know she could feel this intensely for a man she hadn’t exchanged one word with. Did Jesse feel it, too?

Her breasts brushed his hard chest, and she felt every nerve ending in her body come to attention. Long-slumbering desire roared awake. She was already imagining rubbing her body against his, kissing his perfect mouth and running her hands across his hard body.

“Excuse me,” she said, her voice coming out breathy.

He nodded at her once swiftly. “Are you all right, ma’am?”

Nothing in his face gave away he was having the same dirty thoughts about her that she was about him. “I’m fine.”

He released her arm, and she dropped her hand from the front of his shirt where she had been holding on to the fabric. It wasn’t in her nature to play the damsel in distress, especially when she was in uniform, but something about him made her want to blush, bat her eyelashes and giggle.

“Have a good day,” he said.

Why couldn’t she think of something clever to say? Something to flirt with him, to convince him to stick around another few minutes? Flirting wasn’t her forte, and in front of Jesse, she felt tongue-tied.

As he walked away, she turned to watch him leave, appreciating how his jeans hung low on the tilt of his hips and—

“Annabel.”

She turned at the sound of her name. Sam was glaring at her. Trevor was assessing her. She set her hand on her hip, giving them as much sass as she could muster. “What?”

“What are you doing? Do you know who that man is?” Sam asked.

“Jesse Willard. Person of interest in an ongoing investigation,” she said, feeling hot and bothered and trying to pretend to be unaffected by her run-in with Jesse. Could her brothers see on her face she was attracted to Jesse? It had been obvious to her, and she felt her brothers would be quick to pick up on changes in her expression or body language.

“Person of interest in a serial-killer investigation. Watch yourself,” Sam said.

Though younger than her, Sam outranked her in the Granite Gulch Police Department. She wanted to shoot her mouth off and remind him that she was a police officer, she could handle herself, and she didn’t need his warning. But she kept her mouth shut, knowing her rookie status combined with Sam’s in with their boss, Chief Jim Murray, could mean she’d face another week of the world’s most boring assignments. As it was, she was doomed to a morning of fielding nonimportant, nonemergency calls, like explaining to the town busybody why a couple’s consensual, adult affair wasn’t a matter for the police or why a missing cat didn’t warrant a fire department, EMT and police response.

“Yes, sir,” she said, keeping her mocking tone to a minimum. She loved her brothers, but they could be overprotective pains in her side.

She returned to the information desk, her body still buzzing from the contact with Jesse Willard. After answering the phones for three hours, her partner, Luis Gonzales, arrived. At least in the afternoon, she and Luis would work the streets, heading out in the squad car and responding to emergencies. Though her brother’s influence in the GGPD meant she and Luis would catch the tamest emergency calls, anything was better than sitting at a desk all day.

Annabel had followed her dreams in becoming a police officer, and she hoped, with more hard work, it would be everything she’d imagined. She’d like to stop actual criminals, prevent crime and be a positive influence on the Granite Gulch community. While she alone couldn’t repay the huge debt her father owed society for his crimes, Annabel felt better knowing she was doing her best.

Maybe someday soon, that would start to feel like enough.

* * *

Another farmhand hadn’t shown up for work. Given the week he was having, Jesse Willard was in no mood to deal with additional problems the lack of help created. Longer hours and less sleep, the downsides of being the boss.

Owning a farm had been his dream, and it had its ups and downs. Lately, far more downs than ups.

Several important customers had cancelled their orders with him. They had hedged around the reason, but Jesse knew. He’d heard the rumors circulating in town that his sister—more specifically, his half sister—Regina was involved with the murders around Granite Gulch and nearby towns. Living in a small town meant the close-knit community led folks to believe everyone’s business was their business. Jesse lived forty minutes from Main Street, and he kept his visits to town brief. He was polite but detached when the town busybodies circled him. He preferred to keep to himself, but rumors about Regina were persistent. The Alphabet Killer was big news, and he couldn’t go a day without someone speculating on the reasons for the murders or the next victim.

Jesse didn’t know why the police and FBI suspected Regina. His older sister was a little off, and she could be disagreeable, but that was a far cry from being a murderer. He suspected it was more guesswork than actual evidence involved. Regina wasn’t capable of committing a murder, especially not a series of murders that were as methodical and cold as the media was describing.

Jesse had driven to the police station that morning, thinking the police would be reasonable. He’d thought they could talk man-to-man, but of course those Colton brothers thought they owned Granite Gulch. Their family tree had its share of nuts, but that didn’t slow them down. They thought Regina was the murderer, and they were bent on proving it. Maybe they believed themselves experts because they’d lived through an ordeal with their father. The similarities in the cases, which the media were quick to point out, were disturbing.

Why were they investigating the case anyway? Weren’t there serious conflicts of interest with the children of a serial killer investigating another serial killer, especially when the cases were connected?

It was another backward thing about Granite Gulch. It ran by its own rules. Add that to the reasons Jesse preferred to keep to himself.

Knowing he wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone, he headed to the barn. He needed to check his supplies and calculate what to order. Losing customers was rough when his profit margins were slim, but he’d find somewhere to cut extras from the budget.

Some days, he wished he hadn’t bought this farm. He loved being his own boss and setting his own hours, but there was a freedom in working as a farmhand, migrating to a new place on a whim. Setting his own hours often meant working seven days a week to complete tasks, spending ten hours in the field and then handling bills and paperwork another two hours at night.

As he inventoried, Jesse’s thoughts turned to the brunette he had run into that morning at the police precinct. In keeping with his luck, she had been wearing a police uniform. That should have turned him off immediately, but she filled it out nicely and it made him forget how much he detested the sight of the navy uniform in general. The brunette cop was trim and shapely, a woman who could get him going.

Her eyes were intelligent and trusting. She must not have been a cop long. The cops he knew were hard around the edges, having too many experiences with criminals and liars to see the good in people anymore. Most of Jesse’s memories of the police from his childhood were bad: yelling and sweeping in without fixing the problem. When they’d left, it had always been worse.

Maybe the Coltons’ jobs were making them cynical and eager to rush to judgment. They’d grown up with a serial killer for a father who’d murdered their mother. That had to have destroyed them. Who wouldn’t be traumatized by a childhood of violence and loss and spending their careers with liars and criminals? Jesse knew firsthand exactly how hard it was to keep the past as ancient history and not let it creep into everyday life.