Ambushed At Christmas
“Thanks, Sunny,” Leah said. Before today, Sunny’s flirtatious personality hadn’t felt like fingernails on a chalkboard.
To Deacon’s credit, he didn’t seem to notice. Was it his good upbringing that made him such a gentleman? She’d read about his family. The Kents seemed like the best of the best, unlike her family, which was all surface and no substance. Her parents had tried to persuade her to at least become an attorney if she insisted on going down the path of criminal justice. When she’d told them she wanted to be a cop and then a homicide detective, they’d gone down a familiar road, reminding her she couldn’t bring her friend back by putting herself in danger. She’d have liked to believe they were worried about her safety, but then she’d heard her mother on the phone with Leah’s aunt, talking about how embarrassing it was that Leah didn’t have more ambition. That she’d always be stuck feeling sorry for herself for losing her best friend. Her mother had no idea then and nothing had improved since.
“Did you want coffee, Detective?” Sunny blinked at Leah expectantly.
“Yes. Thank you.” Leah must’ve zoned out there for a second.
“And for you?” Sunny’s smile widened when she looked at Deacon, who didn’t look up from the menu.
“I would, thanks.”
“Cream and sugar?” she asked.
“Black.”
“Same for me,” Leah said, unable to suppress a satisfied smirk. Based on the look on Sunny’s face, she wasn’t used to being anything other than the center of attention from male patrons.
It was probably just the smart girl in her that wanted to prove brains could be beautiful. She’d been gawky and awkward in high school and losing her friend made her want to disappear even more. Leah’s mother used to tell her that she could’ve been beautiful if she’d put in the effort. Even a successful businesswoman could prize looks over substance, Leah had realized.
Wow, what had her examining her past like this out of the blue? There was something about the Jillian Mitchell case that hit too close to home.
Leah pretended to focus on the menu but she was really lost in her own thoughts, ever aware of the strong male presence sitting across from her. She was surprised to find him staring at her when she looked up.
“Everything’s good here. It’s all farm to table,” she said, trying to detract attention away from the blush crawling up her neck.
“Wrong foot. Wrong MO,” he suddenly said to her.
Chapter Six
Sunny walked up with two cups of coffee. She bent closer to Deacon, showing her considerable cleavage and Leah was certain she heard a harrumph sound when Deacon had no reaction.
Leah picked up her cup and took a swig, the hot coffee a welcome burn on her throat. She needed a clear head if she was going to make progress on the investigation and keep her thoughts from wandering into unwelcomed territory when it came to Deacon.
As soon as Sunny took their orders and disappeared, Deacon’s gaze settled on Leah.
“You picked up on that.” She referred to the wrong foot. It was easy to see that a different MO had been used.
He nodded and then sipped his coffee. “The scenario at our ranches doesn’t fit the Porter’s Bend Killer. But a man’s in jail.”
“Eyewitness places him in the park. He has a violent past,” she said.
“Was a murder weapon recovered?” he asked.
“Nope.”
“Then it’s a flimsy case at best,” he said. “They won’t be able to hold the guy for long.”
“His background is an issue for him.” She ran her finger along the rim of her coffee mug.
“Meaning?” The statement got Deacon’s attention.
“His crimes against women have been escalating. He has a decent-sized rap sheet.” She picked up the cup, rolling it in her palms for the warmth.
“But chopping off someone’s foot seems harsh for someone who is escalating their violence,” he stated.
“This case reads like a revenge killing to me. It’s violent and personal.” Her body shivered involuntarily, thinking about what had happened to Jillian Mitchell.
“But why the foot?” Deacon’s brows crinkled in concentration. She didn’t want to think of the move as adorable. It helped that his face muscles tensed. It seemed to dawn on him. “The killer wants to send police on a wild-goose chase.”
“A copycat who cut off a foot...” Leah didn’t finish her thought before she saw Charles walk into the restaurant out of the corner of her eye. Had Keeve alerted Charles to the fact that she was here? Son of a—
Charles Dougherty made a beeline for her table. His gaze zeroed in on Deacon. Looking at her ex now, she couldn’t see what she’d ever seen in him. Friendship? Kinship? Comfort? Familiarity? Charles had been a sympathetic ear after being alone for two and a half years following the loss of Wyatt, a man she’d truly cared about. Raising a child on her own had been tough and she wasn’t making excuses, but after Charles lost his teenage daughter to a rare childhood cancer and then his wife walked out, Leah had felt for the guy.
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