Ambushed At Christmas

“That’s right.” They were cattle ranchers but owning mineral rights to their land had made his family fortune. It had also freed them from some of the pressures of cattle ranching. A bad year or a severe drought wouldn’t put them out of business. It also gave them ample space to take risks and create innovation. They’d been pioneers in the organic beef market.

The puzzle pieces clicked together so loudly in the detective’s mind he could almost hear them.

“You’re here because of the...” She met his gaze. This close, he could see the cinnamon flecks in her eyes.

“Severed foot,” he finished for her when her sentence dovetailed into silence.

“I read an article a few days ago about the heifers on your ranch turning up with severed left hooves,” she continued.

“Two other ranches have called to report the same crimes. Which brings us up-to-date with why I’m here,” he stated.

In a flash her expression changed. It was like she’d put in a quarter and hit all three numbers on the slot machine. “And you think the guy who’s been killing cattle has moved on to people.”

“Isn’t that how it usually works? Don’t most serial killers start with animals?” he asked.

“Yes. They usually start with something smaller, though.” Detective Cordon continued to take him apart with her stare. Now she looked like she was trying to determine if he needed a trip to Golden Pond Mental Hospital.

“Found three rabbits along Rushing Creek. Carcasses had been pretty picked through and they were in advanced stages of decay, all missing a front left paw.”

Now her brain really fired on all cylinders.

“I don’t remember reading anything about that,” she admitted. Her tone was laced with accusation.

He understood the implication. They’d just been found. Everyone on the ranch was being investigated. “The information will be out soon. As it is, we’ve had our fair share of crazies popping out of the woodwork with leads. Jacobstown is a small community. People are scared. They see this as some kind of omen.” He could tell by her reaction that the detective didn’t like to be the one on the light side of important information.

“You’d think he’d put out a bulletin right away,” she said.

“About rabbits that could have been caught in illegal traps and had their paws chopped off to free them?” Deacon issued a grunt. “The town’s already in a panic over the heifers. Folks aren’t used to crime. It’s not like here in the city. People don’t lock their doors where I’m from. Or at least they didn’t used to.”

“Everyone should lock their doors, Mr. Kent.” She stuck his phone out between them. “A criminal could strike anywhere, anytime. They like easy marks.”

Deacon chuckled. He couldn’t help himself.

“What’s that about?”

“Old Lady Rollick once shot at a friend of mine for sneaking onto her back porch to get a bite of one of her famous peach pies. Folks in Jacobstown can take care of themselves,” he stated.

“Yeah?” she fired back. “Well, the scum I’m used to dealing with wouldn’t be sneaking onto a porch to steal dessert.”

“Peach pie,” he corrected.

“I reported you. A beat cop will be here any minute to investigate.” The detective jerked an earbud out of her pocket and tucked it in her left ear. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to finish my run.”

As she made a move to take off, Deacon caught her arm.

“Can I ask you a question?” He mustered as much politeness as he could.

Her gaze held on to his hand and then lifted to his eyes. There was no amusement.

“What?”

“Why are you out here alone after what happened?”

“THIS IS MY TRAIL,” Leah said, hearing the defensiveness in her own voice. Deacon Kent’s serious gray-blue eyes scrutinizing her were throwing her off-kilter. She reholstered her weapon, resting her hand on the butt for comfort and because she needed to touch something to push her reset button. Her fingers still tingled with sensations from touching the good-looking cowboy.

“You weren’t scared to come out here alone after what happened last night?” It seemed like it was his turn to dig information out of her. She figured, with his connections, after one phone call from him to headquarters she’d be hauled into the chief’s office to explain why she’d accused a Texas millionaire—billionaire?—of tampering with a crime scene. She hadn’t specifically accused him and there was something about the cowboy—those serious eyes sure seemed honest—that almost had her believing he wouldn’t play that card. But she hadn’t made detective at the age of thirty by taking people for their word or letting every good-looking male off the hook.

She pulled out her earbud and stuck it in between them. “That’s why I only use one earbud. Keep the other one free to listen so no one surprises me.”

“But I caught you off guard and that’s why your heart’s still thumping. Anyone else could’ve done the same thing.” He emphasized his point by dropping his gaze to the base of her throat, causing all kinds of heat to flush her cheeks.

“I was jogging. That’s why my heart was, is, racing.” Kent placated her by letting that little lie fly by. Being courteous must have been part of his Cowboy Code. “The path isn’t that busy at this time of night. It’s not rush hour. It’s not isolated, either.”

He shot her a look of disbelief, but she had no plans to detail out how hard she’d fought against her fears and why it was even more important to her now to face them.

“You can take those gloves off.”

He did, and her traitorous heart fluttered in her chest like a schoolgirl crush when she saw there was no ring on his left-hand finger. She told herself that she was just doing her job. It was true enough. She did get paid to notice things.

“Mr. Kent—”

“Call me Deacon,” he insisted.

She didn’t like being informal with someone she’d considered a possible suspect a few minutes ago, but figured if she threw him a few bones, he’d walk away without a formal complaint. The other irritating part about him was how much his voice—a dark ale kind of timbre—trailed down her spine, causing tingles she didn’t even want to consider. “Deacon.” His first name sounded less awkward coming out of her mouth than she’d expected. That little tinge of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips almost made her feel like he enjoyed hearing it. “I can see that your intentions are good, if misguided.”

He started to cut her off but she held her finger up to quiet him. The move would probably be gasoline on a fire.

Instead of flying off the handle, he smiled a smug smile, folded his arms and leaned back against the tree like they were old friends having a casual conversation. This guy was too smooth and full of contradictions. His calloused hands said he worked hard but a man with his family money wouldn’t have to work a day. His tanned olive skin said he spent his days outside. He was tall and strong; she’d seen his jeans stretch against seriously muscled thighs when he walked.

Normally, sizing someone up for a threat didn’t seem invasive or personal in the way being with Deacon Kent did.

“I can understand your interest in this case. However, I shouldn’t need to warn you the person responsible is dangerous. You might think investigating on your own is smart, but—” A tree branch snapped a few feet away, causing her to jump. She pulled out her phone and put on the flashlight app before bringing the light to a small brush.

Deacon was already investigating. He’d covered the distance between them and the brush in seconds. He was fast.

Leah swept the area and then moved behind him.

“It’s nothing. Animals,” he said, sitting back on his heels. His hands were on his knees when he turned his head.

A scream split the air.

Deacon hopped to his feet and started toward the cry for help as Leah darted to his side. She’d drawn her gun and was sweeping the area from side to side with it as she tore toward the sound.

Around the next turn, a man stood over a woman who was rocking back and forth on the ground.

The cowboy ducked behind a tree almost at the same time as Leah. She noted his familiarity with law enforcement tactics.

“Get your hands in the air where I can see them and stay right where you are,” Leah commanded.

The man, who wore a hoodie, took a couple of steps back and thrust his hands in the air.

“Freeze,” Leah said. She appreciated Deacon not going rogue and trying to take over the situation. Some people would. She kept one eye on Hoodie while she asked the woman, “Where are you hurt?”

“My leg. I tripped over something,” the woman managed to shout in bursts through forced breaths. “Didn’t see those rocks and rolled my ankle.”

“I’m going to get you some help. First, I need a little more information.” She could see the woman was in agony. One of the first rules of good policing was never run to an injured party. The man standing over her could use the move to his advantage and attack. Or, this could be a setup to throw her off base where she could be ambushed. There could be others waiting to jump out from the nearby brush. Leah had been trained not to take the chance. Given that she had a three-year-old son who’d be orphaned if anything happened to her, she doubled down on cautious police work. Her primary goal at the beginning of every shift—like most officers she knew—was to make it home to loved ones safely.

“You, sit down and keep your hands where I can see them,” Leah demanded of the man.

He dropped down.

Leah wasn’t quite ready to holster her gun. “What’s your name, ma’am?”

“Stacy Rutledge.” She was rocking back and forth faster.

“Mind if I check on her?” Deacon asked.

“Go ahead,” Leah stated.

“You with the hoodie. What’s your name?” she asked the man sitting back on his heels with his hands folded around the back of his neck.

“Kevin Lee,” the man said.

For all she knew, Kevin wasn’t really his name. He might’ve intended to take advantage of a woman who’d been injured on her run. Of course, he didn’t have to be the murderer from last night in order to be a criminal. There were plenty of other types of crimes against women. Her imagination was running wild, getting the best of her on this one and she knew it.

She thought about the fact that there’d been no witnesses to the crime last night, no description of the perp.

Tonight’s run had been a bad idea from the start.

No matter how hard she’d tried, she couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched.

“Show me your face,” Leah demanded.

“I need to move my hands to do that.” Kevin sounded scared and confused. His reaction said he was caught off guard and most likely didn’t have criminal intent.

“Only enough to remove your hoodie,” she stated with authority.

He complied, revealing short black hair. He had a prominent nose set on an otherwise average clean-cut face. No warning bells sounded based on his looks but she had no description of the man from last night’s deadly attack to work with and no criminal profile yet. Whoever had attacked Jillian Mitchell had been strong enough to drag her off the trail, subdue her and then sever her right ankle. Her body had been carried deeper into the brush. Dirt underneath her fingernails indicated she’d put up a good fight. There were other signs, bruises on her body.

Maybe the investigator would get lucky and get a DNA hit.

It was presumed the suspect had worn gloves.

Investigators were still trying to determine if Jillian was murdered by someone she knew—which was the most likely case for a female—or if the attack had been random. Someone close to her would know her evening routine. The person had to be strong enough to subdue Jillian, drag her off the trail and carry her through the trees based on the fact that there were no signs of her being dragged there. Leah was certain she’d seen the woman before. The same people came out night after night. She’d found the same to be true in the mornings, too. After her rookie year she’d been placed on the deep night shift. The excitement and stress of the job caused her to start jogging in order to wind down enough to sleep during the day. Her clock had been turned upside down in those years. The routine comforted her.

“What are you doing here, Kevin?” An obvious question but one that had to be asked.

“Jogging.” His voice was incredulous.

Of course, everyone feared a serial killer in the making but a next-day attack would have been unlikely in this scenario. Seasoned serial killers took time to bake.

The lead investigator happened to be her ex and although she’d believed the split was amicable—it had been a long time coming—Charles Dougherty had been short with her ever since. Six months had passed now. With his attitude, she was beginning to question whether or not he’d agreed with her assessment or if he’d been playing along so she wouldn’t realize how much the breakup actually had hurt.

She’d overheard a fellow officer refer to her as Cold-Fish Cordon when she’d walked past the men’s locker room. Charles had laughed, not defended her.

And that was just the beginning of the cold-shoulder treatment she’d been getting from him ever since.

“Any other reason you’re out here tonight, Kevin?” she asked.

“Other than my nightly run? No,” he said with a quizzical look.

A good investigator asked every question, and especially the ones she thought she knew the answers to. Because every once in a while a witness answered wrong and gave her the leverage she needed to keep digging.

Chapter Three

Kevin Lee was innocent. All Leah had needed was five minutes to assess his guilt or innocence. Her years of experience had honed her instincts. As much as she trusted them, she never took them for granted. But the man was as clean as Sunday’s sheets on a freshly made bed.

An officer had arrived, followed shortly after by paramedics. The scene bustled with activity. Between the detour with Deacon Kent and the injured jogger, it was getting late. Leah checked her watch. She should’ve been home fifteen minutes ago to relieve her sitter. Normally, that wouldn’t have been a problem but tensions were running high.

“Excuse me, I need to make a phone call,” she said to Deacon.

“Someone expecting you at home?” he asked. An emotion flickered behind his gray-blue eyes that she couldn’t quite pinpoint.

“Sort of,” she admitted for reasons she had yet to pick apart. The question had caught her off guard. She walked out of earshot in order to make the call to her babysitter.

Riley answered on the first ring. The soft hum of the TV that was on in the background comforted Leah.

“Everything okay?” Riley immediately asked. Her next-door neighbor was great about coming over after Connor had gone to sleep so that Leah could get in her run. Leah would miss that next fall when Riley left for college.

“I’m giving a statement to police right now about a jogger being hurt on the trail,” Leah informed her.

“Another one?” Riley’s tone was ominous. Her voice dropped as she asked, “Are you okay?”

“This was an accident. It’s not related,” Leah said quickly. Too quickly.

“Oh.” Riley must’ve picked up on it. Everyone’s nerves were on edge following the attack.

“How’s Connor?” Leah wanted an update on her son but she also wanted to redirect Riley.

“Hasn’t budged an inch since I got here,” Riley reported. “In fact, he hasn’t made a peep but I checked on him fifteen minutes ago, anyway.”

“His preschool teacher said they spent a lot of time outdoors today and that the class should sleep well tonight.” Leah couldn’t remember what a good night’s sleep was anymore. To sleep like an innocent child again. What would that be like?

Either way, Leah was grateful for her high school neighbor, who was close to the back half of her senior year. Riley’s job was basically to make sure Connor didn’t wake or need anything. The high schooler brought her laptop computer and Leah figured had knocked out most of her college applications while sitting on her couch. It was mutually beneficial because Riley complained about her brothers, twins, who were star football players on the middle school team. She said there wasn’t a safe place in the house with those two running, shouting and throwing the ball just about everywhere. There were always a few of their friends on hand, and since Riley’s room was directly across the hall from the twins’, she couldn’t get a minute of peace.

Since Leah offered money, going to her house was certainly cheaper than going to a coffeehouse and dropping five bucks on a latte every time she wanted to use the free Wi-Fi.

The arrangement worked out well for both of them. Since Leah didn’t get off work until six o’clock most nights, she barely had a pair of hours to spend with Connor before his bedtime. Rather than sit inside the house and stare at four walls after he was tucked into bed, Leah had made the proposition to Riley a year ago and the arrangement seemed to be working out for them both.

“I should be home soon,” Leah promised.

“Take your time. Seriously. I have nowhere else to go but home.” Leah almost smiled because she could practically hear Riley rolling her eyes.

Leah couldn’t feel guilty about being later than usual with an attitude like that. Her place was a refuge for Riley and Leah didn’t mind helping out the girl. Riley seemed to think it was cute that strangers thought they were sisters and had mentioned more than once that she wished it were true.

“I won’t be too late,” Leah promised. She wasn’t ready to leave the scene just yet. She needed to remind the handsome rancher that he had no business digging around a crime scene and that he could end up a suspect if he refused to listen to her.

She figured that would go over about as well as whipped cream on a taco.

“TELL ME MORE about the case,” Deacon said to the detective once the jogger had been carried away by the paramedics, Kevin Lee’s statement had been given and the scene had quieted down.

The detective shot him a look that left no question as to what she thought about his request. “I can’t.”

“I’m not telling you to give away your family’s barbecue recipe. I’d like to know who I’m looking for, if you have a description of the suspect. It’ll help us on the ranch as we guard our herd and we might actually be of some help if he returns,” Deacon said. He could ask the same information from his cousin Zach, but the detective might have an inside track.

“We don’t have one,” she admitted. “And I’m not the lead on this case, so I have no authority whatsoever to dig deeper. All we’re doing that I know of is watching the trail and pretty much everywhere else for another attack.”

“There were no witnesses and you have no leads,” he summarized.

“Just like the newspaper said,” she stated.

“Excuse me if I don’t believe everything I read,” he countered.

“Your cousin. He’s the sheriff, right?” she asked.

“Yes.” Deacon wasn’t sure where she was going with this.

“Explains why you know how to conduct yourself during an investigation.” She locked on to his gaze and he ignored the power that one look held. He also saw a repeat of that split-second vulnerability that got all his protective instincts fired up. A glance at her finger had said she didn’t wear a wedding band. But that call home had thrown him off balance at first until he heard bits and pieces of her conversation. “Also tells me that you won’t mind me reminding you that I’m not privileged to share information with you. Even if I had access to it, which I don’t.”

There were ways to get around that but he didn’t want to push her.

“Want to grab a cup of coffee?” he asked, noticing she’d started shivering. The temperature had dropped another ten degrees. He could feel it through his jacket. Christmas was around the corner, so there was no shock that the weather had turned.

“No, thank you.” Her words were curt. “But I will share another piece of advice if you don’t mind.”

“Be my guest.” He folded his arms across his chest.

“If you go crawling around a crime scene, you might just leave your DNA for someone to discover and end up on the wrong side here. Why not leave this to law enforcement.”

“My cousin has no authority in Fort Worth. I have no idea if these cases are connected but have every intention of finding out before any more of my cattle suffer and heaven forbid another person if that’s what’s happening here. I’ll give you that I acted on impulse coming here. Doesn’t mean I regret my actions and especially not if I can help in any way.” Getting away from the ranch for a few hours had proven to be the distraction he needed. While his brothers seemed to have settled into their birthright, Deacon still wasn’t comfortable. He’d been restless since losing his parents and leaving his small but thriving Dallas-based custom millwork company. He’d sold the business to his partner not without regret.

Leah examined him and he noticed that her eyes darkened when she skimmed his torso.

“Maybe you shouldn’t act on impulse next time.” She pointed her finger at his chest.

“What are you not telling me?” The detective was holding back. He couldn’t say he was surprised given the circumstances. The statement caught her off guard enough for him to know he’d hit the nail on the head.

Leah’s cell buzzed. She checked the screen and Deacon caught the breath she blew out.

“Cordon here,” she said into the phone and he realized the caller couldn’t be the sitter who waited for her at home. The stab of jealousy said he feared it was a romantic interest. She turned around to face the opposite direction to take the call.

“That’s great news, sir,” she said quietly. “Thank you,” she added before ending the call and turning around to face Deacon.

“That wasn’t home calling,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Nope,” she reported. “Killer’s been arrested. We can all go home.”

LEAH STARED AT her bedroom ceiling. A light streamed in from the window, enabling her to see clearly. A cursory glance at the clock said the sun wouldn’t be up for three hours. A pair of hours after that and Connor would be awake and ready to go full tilt, as only three-year-olds knew how to do. So why was she still awake, thinking about the Porter’s Bend Killer, when she should have been deep in REM sleep by now?

The killer was in jail. Details of his murder would be out soon enough. Maybe she could go in to work early and stop off at the coroner’s office on the way in. Connor’s preschool opened at 6:00 a.m. and she’d had to take advantage of the extra hours for cases from time to time. The director, Mrs. Clark, wouldn’t be shocked if Leah showed up with Connor on short notice. The arrangement at Marymount Day School had worked well so far.

Another urge struck.

The impulse to call Deacon Kent and discuss the case was strong.

An unsettled feeling crept over her. If this case was wrapped up, why was she wide-awake in the middle of the night, staring at the rain spot on the ceiling? The perp behind bars had a rap sheet long enough to make his arrest feasible.

Leah reminded herself that this case was too close to home. She was losing her objectivity. A murder had occurred on her jogging path, the trail she took every night before bed in order to clear her head. She bit back the irony that she was a detective and couldn’t keep her own trail safe.

How many times had Leah and Jillian Mitchell possibly looked up and nodded while passing each other without really giving each other much thought? Dozens? More?