Colton Under Fire

He might as well do some digging into the mystery of those cameras in Sloane’s house. It wasn’t as if he’d gotten a wink of sleep last night, what with worrying about Sloane and her daughter, anyway.

He started by calling every security company in Roaring Springs and the surrounding towns. Not one of them had installed a security system at the address in question. He did luck out, though, when he discovered that one of the places had installed window locks at that address a few months back as part of a renovation. That company had the name of the contractor who’d remodeled the house. A quick phone call to that gentleman confirmed that no security system had been in place at Sloane’s house at the time she purchased it and moved in.

Interesting.

Liam picked up his phone and placed one more call, this time to the FBI field office in Denver.

“This is Special Agent Roberts. How can I help you?”

“Detective Liam Kastor, here. Roaring Springs PD. I need some advice.”

“Does this have to do with that murder at the Colton ranch? I wasn’t the agent consulted on that case, but I can pass you to—”

“That’s not what I’m calling about. I have a local citizen, a single mother, who appears to have someone doing high-tech surveillance in her house.”

“Any idea why?”

“None. She used to be a defense attorney in Denver, but she’s been down here for a little while doing the stay-at-home mom thing with her toddler. There’s an ex-husband, but the divorce and settlement are finalized.”

“Have you examined the cameras?” Roberts asked quickly.

“No. I haven’t acknowledged that I spotted them, and the homeowner didn’t stay in her house last night. Her child is sick, and they stayed at the hospital.”

“Sorry to hear that, sir. Well, we’ve got a tech specialist I can hook you up with. He could take a look at what’s installed. But you’ll need a warrant to get into the house to look at the surveillance equipment.”

“I have permission to enter the premises.”

“That’s handy. Let me give you our tech guy’s number...”

In short order, Liam spoke with a man named Rahm Zogby, who agreed to drive down to Roaring Springs and take a look at what was going on in Sloane’s house. But he wouldn’t arrive until after lunch, so Liam had some time to kill.

An internet search of Ivan Durant proved educational. The guy was the only son of a wealthy couple and had grown up with the proverbial silver spoon in his mouth. Fancy private schools, fancier private university and law school, hired by a top law firm, fast-tracked to partner. No doubt, daddy bringing his considerable legal business to the firm hadn’t hurt Ivan’s career.

The guy was handsome in a squared-jawed, Nordic way. But Liam found his eyes a little too cold, the set of his shoulders a little too arrogant, the pout of his mouth a little too spoiled.

Durant had better not cause Sloane any more pain, or ol’ Ivan and he were going to have a problem.

Liam used police sources to dig into Ivan’s financials and discovered the guy was teetering on the edge of bankruptcy. The gambling Sloane had mentioned must be a serious problem. That, or the dude’s lavish lifestyle was draining his finances. Or maybe both.

Liam did stumble across a magazine interview where Ivan railed against prenups. Durant hinted that paying his off had wiped him out financially.

Good for Sloane. At least she’d walked away from the jerk with financial security. However, it also made for a pretty decent revenge motive.

Still. She was the mother of the man’s child. Surely Ivan wouldn’t mess with Sloane if it meant hurting his own daughter. Or was the guy that big an ass?

“Hey, Liam!”

He glanced up at his boss, Police Chief Tegan Howard. “Yes, ma’am?” She hated being ma’amed by anyone other than very contrite teenagers, who’d better ma’am her or get a lecture on manners.

She rolled her eyes. “You busy?”

“Not especially.”

“Any chance you could pick up that prisoner you dropped off at the hospital last night and bring him back here? He’s got an arraignment this afternoon, assuming he can stand and speak coherently.”

“I’m on it.” Perfect. He could stop by and check in on Sloane and Chloe while he was there. Liam grabbed his coat and headed for the hospital.

The elevator door opened to the third floor of the hospital, and Liam stared at a block party in progress. Or at least, that was what it looked like. The hallway was crowded with people talking and milling around. He recognized Russ Colton with a start, then Wyatt and his fiancée, and then he spied Fox.

Aww, hell. The Colton clan had found out Chloe was here and had converged on Sloane. He waded through the crowd to his best friend. “Hey, Fox. How’s Chloe doing?”

“No idea. Can’t get a straight answer out of anyone around this place. What are you doing here?”

“I came to pick up a prisoner. Is Sloane around? I’d like to say hi. Give her my best.”

“Yeah. She’s in with Chloe. Chased everyone out of her daughter’s room a few minutes ago so the kid can rest.”

“With this mob out here? A dead man couldn’t rest.”

Fox grimaced at his family. “Yeah, you’re right. Help me get rid of them?”

“Sure.”

Liam strolled over to Mara Colton, whom he’d long ago identified as the real power in the family, while Fox headed for their father, Russ. “Howdy, Mrs. C. I’m sorry to hear your granddaughter is sick.”

“Why, thank you, Liam. That’s kind of you.”

“I don’t know much about these things, but do you think all this commotion is good for Chloe? Maybe a little more...quiet...might help her rest and recover?”

Mara glanced around in fond exasperation at the crowd. “I do believe you’re right. I’ll go have a word with my husband.”

Mission accomplished. Between the two of them, Russ and Mara would clear the place fast. Sure enough, it took about three minutes flat for the ward to go silent and deserted.

Ahh. Better.

Liam poked his head inside Chloe’s room. The little girl was fiddling with the elephant he’d brought her last night, and a cartoon was playing on her television, but she looked listless.

“I hope you don’t mind that I chased your family off,” he murmured.

“You’re why they left? Thank you from the bottom of my heart,” Sloane said sincerely. She stepped away from Chloe’s bed to come over to him.

“How’s she doing?”

“Fever’s down, but she’s been throwing up, and she’s starting to cough. Doc says the respiratory infection is the rough part of this virus. So we’re not out of the woods yet.”

“She’s getting constant care and the best support available. She’ll be fine,” he murmured.

“From your mouth to God’s ear.”

“How are you holding up?” he asked softly.

“Fine.”

“No. Seriously. How are you doing?”

She looked up at him candidly, and for an instant, naked fear shone in her hazel eyes.

“That’s what I thought,” he muttered as he gathered her into his arms for a hug.

She shuddered against him, a long, full-body shiver of terror. “I—”

Her phone buzzed, interrupting whatever she was about to say.

Frowning, she stepped out of his arms and pulled out the device. She swore quietly and moved out into the hallway, away from Chloe.

Liam followed her. “What’s the matter?”

“It’s Ivan. I don’t want to talk to him, but I suppose I’ll have to tell him Chloe is sick.”

“Why? You don’t owe him anything. He doesn’t have custody of her.”

Sloane stared up at him as the call went to voicemail. “You sound like you don’t like him.”

“I don’t.”

“But you’ve never met him.”

“He hurt you.”

Sloane’s eyes widened. She opened her mouth to speak, but her phone started to ring again. “Crud. It’s Ivan. He’ll keep calling until I answer. Can I ask a favor of you...as a police officer?”

Startled, Liam replied, “Of course.”

“Listen to the call. So you can—” her breath hitched and then she continued grimly “—so you can testify to what you heard in court, if it comes to that.”

Alarmed, he took Sloane’s arm and steered her into the empty hospital room next door. He pushed the door shut. “Why do you need a witness for the call? Is he threatening you?”

“Not exactly.”

“What exactly?” he asked sharply. The hackles on the back of his neck were standing up, and he realized with a bit of a start that his right hand was balled into a fist. He forcibly relaxed the fingers and focused all of his considerable observational skills on Sloane. Elevated breathing. Faint sheen of perspiration on her skin. Gaze darting around. She was scared.

“You’d better damned well believe I want to hear this phone call,” he growled.

The phone rang for a third time, and she took a deep breath. He watched, eyes narrowed, as she put the phone on speaker and accepted the call.

“Hello, Ivan.”

“Why the hell are you avoiding me?” a male voice snarled.

“I’m busy. And I don’t have to answer your calls. We’re not married anymore. You can speak to my lawyer if you have something to say to me. You have her phone number.”

Ivan swore viciously at that suggestion, and Liam’s eyebrows climbed. Temper much?

Then Ivan spat out, “I’m not kidding, Sloane. I’ll expose what you did. I want Chloe back. I will take her from you.”

“You don’t want Chloe. You just want to punish me.”

More swearing.

“Look, Ivan. Chloe’s sick. She’s in the hospital with a bad viral infection. If you want to come see her, I won’t stop you.”

“I’m busy. And besides, I don’t want to catch some godawful disease.”

“She’s your daughter.”

“I said I’m busy.”

“Then get to your point. Or were you just calling to threaten me?” Sloane asked coolly. Liam had to give her credit. She was an icicle under pressure.

“My parents wanted me to remind you that they’ve got a scheduled visit with Chloe next week. You have to bring her to Denver.”

“I haven’t forgotten. But you did just hear me say she’s in the hospital, right? I don’t know if she’ll be well enough to go—”

Ivan cut her off. “I don’t care if you have to scrape her out of her sickbed and pour her into an ambulance to get her here. I’ll sue for breach of contract and overturn the custody agreement if you don’t comply with the court order down to the last letter.”

“She’s a baby. She’s very sick.”

“Tough shit.”

“Ivan. She’s your flesh and blood. Show a little compassion—”

Ivan cut her off with another blistering round of swearing that made a muscle tick in Liam’s jaw.

Then Durant snarled, “I’ll drag you back into court so fast it’ll make your head spin. And I’ll get that eff-ing custody order amended. I’m going to end up with Chloe if it’s the last thing I do—”

Sloane cut him off, her voice hard enough to cut through glass. “I’ve got a police officer listening to this phone call, Ivan, so before you devolve into more threats against me, consider yourself notified that you are being monitored.”

“That’s a load of crap. You had no idea I was going to call you. No way did you have time to arrange for a cop to listen in. You can take your high-and-mighty attitude and choke on it, wifey dearest.” His tone turned even more menacing “You’re going to regret ever dragging our personal life into court. I’ll make you beg for mercy before I’m done with you. You’ll never see your daughter again. I ruin your life. I’ll ruin you—”

Sloane had gone pale, and the hand holding her cell phone was trembling violently.

Liam lifted the phone out of her hand and disconnected the call. He was sorely tempted to give Ivan Durant a piece of his mind, but pulling a stunt like that would force him off the investigation of what was going on with Sloane’s house.

Besides, she was shaken enough without him heaping any more drama on top of what Ivan had just piled onto her.

The phone rang again. Liam glanced at the caller ID and blocked the number.

“You can’t block him!” Sloane exclaimed. “What if there’s an emergency and—”

Liam cut her off with quietly intensity. “And what? You can always unblock him and call him, But are you really going to turn to that jerk for help with anything in your life? He didn’t show even a hint of concern when you told him his own child was in the hospital. Do you really want a man like that anywhere near your daughter?”

“No. Of course not. But what if he actually does need to talk to me about something?”

“You have a lawyer. He can call him or her.”

Sloane looked up at him, lost. She appeared so young and vulnerable and scared out of her mind in that moment. Liam swore silently at himself. As attracted as he was to this woman, he had no business even considering a romantic entanglement with her. She was off balance, frightened and still trying to get on her feet after what had obviously been a hideous divorce. She was in no condition to get into a relationship with any man.

God knew he didn’t want to be the rebound guy. It would only end up hurting them both in the end.

“You should seriously consider installing an app on your phone that will record phone calls. If he threatens you again, it would help us to have a recording of it for evidence purposes.”

“Good idea,” Sloane replied woodenly.

He pressed her phone back into her hand. “You have tons of family. Friends all around you. Turn to us. You don’t need Ivan Durant for anything. We’ve all got your back.”

Sloane drew one wobbly breath. Let it out slowly. Then her spine stiffened, her chin came up and she dashed at the tears glistening on her cheeks.

Admiration unfurled in Liam’s gut. What kind of strength did it take for Sloane to gather her tattered courage around herself like that, to set aside the attack Ivan had just hurled at her, and to march back to her daughter’s sickbed with a brave smile on her lips? She was a hell of a woman. A warrior mom.

And the last thing she needed in her life right now was a man like him to complicate matters.

Chapter 4

Liam got rid of her family in the nick of time because over the next hour, Chloe went from bad to worse. Coughs wracked her tiny body, and each wheezing breath the little girl drew terrified Sloane a little bit more.

A new doctor came in at lunchtime and introduced herself as a pulmonologist, a lung and breathing specialist. The woman commenced listening to Chloe’s chest through a stethoscope. The doctor frowned and jerked her head toward the hallway door.

Sloane’s brain froze. It was bad news. A little voice somewhere in the back of her skull screamed, nononono.

“Ms. Colton, you daughter is very sick. We’re going to do everything we can for her. We’ll x-ray her chest periodically to check for fluid in her lungs, and I’m going to start support for her breathing. She’ll still be breathing on her own. I just want to get a little more oxygen into her.”

Sloane managed to pull her wits together enough to ask, “How long will this phase of the virus last?”

“The next twenty-four hours should tell the tale. If we can dodge pneumonia, we should be home free after that.”

“What can I do for her?”

“Keep her calm. Keep the oxygen tube under her nose. If she won’t tolerate it on her face, we’ll have to sedate her. In fact, I may do that anyway—”

“Please hold off. I’d rather avoid sedation if we can. I’ll keep her breathing the oxygen. I won’t take my eyes off of her.”

The doctor nodded and moved over to the nurses’ station to write up the order for oxygen supplementation. Then she looked up at Sloane. “I’ll check on Chloe again in a few hours. The nurses will call me if there are any significant changes between now and then.”

Sloane nodded. But then she caught the grim looks that passed between the doctor and the head nurse. Crap, crap, crap.

If there was one feeling in the world she couldn’t stand above all others, it was feeling helpless. And right now, there wasn’t a blessed thing she could do to help her baby. This was entirely out of her hands. Which completely panicked her.

* * *

Liam had agreed to meet the FBI’s tech guy at the police department and was glad he did. He would have arrested Rahm Zogby on sight if he’d seen the guy lurking around Sloane’s place. The FBI technician had a chest-length beard and a ragged bandana tied around his forehead, holding back long, lanky hair. If the man bathed, it wasn’t evident, and the van, marked “Manny’s HVAC Service,” looked nearly as disreputable as its driver.

“Liam Kastor?” Rahm asked as Liam climbed out of his truck.

“That’s me. Agent Zogby?”

“Just Zog. Or Rahm. I’m not a badge flasher.”

Liam wasn’t sure if that meant the guy had an FBI badge and chose not to show it, or that the guy was a civilian. Zog drove the van while Liam rode in the torn vinyl passenger seat. Liam directed him across town to Sloane’s house, and the FBI man parked out front.

“What’s the plan...Zog?”

“You’ve got the keys and permission to go in, right? That’s what Stefan Roberts told me.”

“Correct.”

“I’m gonna go in and pretend to fix the air conditioner and heater while you put on this monkey suit and help me.” The guy held out a cheap brown jumpsuit that would fit over his street clothes. “Ideally, you’d have some work boots to wear, but we’ll chance it. Just pull the jumpsuit down so it covers up your shoes as much as possible.”

“Got it.” Liam crawled in the back of the van, sat on the hard ribbed floor, and wrestled on the uniform.

Zog eyed him critically. “Pull the baseball cap down lower. Good. Keep your face turned away from the cameras as much as you can without being obvious about it. And watch what you say. The cameras may have an audio pickup.”

Liam nodded his understanding and yanked the cap down practically to the bridge of his nose.

“Here. Carry this.” Zog thrust a grimy bucket full of tools at him. They climbed out and headed for the kitchen door at the back of the house.

Liam let them in, and Zog made a beeline for the thermostat on the wall in the dining room. He popped the cover off and fiddled with the electronics inside. “Gotta look at the base unit,” he announced.

They piled upstairs to the slant-ceilinged office. At one end of the space was a short door that turned out to lead to a partially finished attic space.

“Perfect,” Zog breathed.

Frowning, Liam watched the guy get down on his hands and knees and crawl for the corner over the front door. Flashes of light indicated that Zog was photographing something. When the guy backed up and headed for the other side of the open space, Liam estimated that Zog was on top of the camera in Chloe’s room. More flashes of light.

“Hand me that zipped pouch in the bottom of the bucket,” Zog muttered.

Liam passed it over and was startled when the technician went to work, quickly attaching wires to something in the corner.

“’Kay. Done,” Zog announced.

Liam opened his mouth to ask what the guy had found, but Zog waved him to silence. They tromped downstairs. Zog replaced the thermostat cover while mumbling something about being glad it was just a fuse that needed replacing and chuckling over how they were gonna be able to charge for a full-service visit. Then they piled into the van and drove away from Sloane’s bungalow.

“Well?” Liam demanded.

The stoner persona dropped in an instant, and Rahm spoke crisply. “State-of-the-art surveillance and transmission system. Someone’s nearby monitoring the camera feed, or else there’s a remote unit nearby where the data is being collected, forwarded to another location, and possibly recorded for later viewing. Either way, your stay-at-home mom has some serious hardware in her attic. Stuff’s practically military grade.”

“But why?” Liam blurted in frustration. “She’s a mom.”

“You sure about that? There’s a good twenty grand in gear installed in that house. We’re talking a top-drawer private security firm or the FBI. They’re the only types who have access to that kind of tech besides the military.”

Suddenly, Liam didn’t know anything at all about Sloane. Who in the world would bring that kind of juice to spy on her? And why?

The van pulled to a stop beside his pickup truck back at the station.

“Here,” Zog said, holding out a flash drive and a cigar-box-sized box with an antenna sticking out of it. “You’ll need these.”

“What are they?”

“Plug the antenna unit into an electrical outlet and plug that flash drive into your computer, and you’ll see the exact same feed as the cameras. I cloned the whole system for you.”

Liam sputtered. He didn’t want to spy on Sloane! He only wanted to know who’d done it. “Is there any way we can track who’s picking up the signal?”

“I planted a signal tracker at the house, but I’m gonna have to go back to the bench in my lab and catch an outbound batch burst of data before I can give you a location. Give me, say, twelve hours? I doubt the surveillance batches are going out any slower than that.”

“Fair enough. Thanks for all your help, man.”

Zog said soberly, “I hope you find the answers you’re looking for.”

So did he. It would kill him to have to take Sloane down if she was mixed up in something nefarious. And Chloe—that kid couldn’t end up back in her father’s hands. Could the Coltons be convinced to sue for custody—

Slow down, there, Tonto. Sloane isn’t convicted of anything yet. Innocent until proven guilty, buddy.

Please God, let Sloane not be tangled up in something illegal.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.