The Coltons of Red Ridge

Chapter 2

The hope that had carried Darby through the prior evening when Penny had opted to join her on the couch met an untimely end about ten minutes into breakfast. It had started with Penny’s stubborn refusal to eat. Darby had tried to coax her with dry food and, when that hadn’t worked, some wet food Bo had kept in the pantry. When neither met with success, she’d even gone so far as to cook the dog some rice and heat up some plain chicken she’d cooked for her lunchtime salads all week. All to no avail.

Penny wouldn’t eat.

This had resulted in a call to the vet and a panicked round of “What did she eat the day before?” before the dog had shamed her into embarrassment by diving into her breakfast after fifteen shaky, fear-filled minutes. The only saving grace was that Darby hadn’t called the vet out to the house, only to have paid for an unnecessary visit.

What the call had turned up as the vet probed on Penny’s age and overall health was his concern that another litter would put Penny at serious risk. On some level, Darby had known it, but she’d told herself she needed a professional opinion.

And now she had it.

That dismal news and the breakfast battle of wills had been followed by the news of another murder in Red Ridge, this one eerily like Bo’s. While the RRPD hadn’t released all details of how Michael Hayden had been murdered, the fact that it was another groom-to-be—this one celebrating at his rehearsal dinner—was too coincidental for Darby’s comfort.

After fielding three calls from concerned friends in town, along with two more she’d sent to voice mail, unwilling to engage in the expected idle gossip that would have resulted, Darby headed out to the backyard and the property beyond.

The day was sharp and cold, but the winter sun was bright in a blue sky. Penny had reluctantly followed her outside and had skirted the property, seeming to take comfort in her perusal of the perimeter before settling on the rattan recliner on the porch, apparently content to watch her.

Darby shot the dog the gimlet eye but was pleased to see Penny’s reluctant interest in her activities. “Chalk it up to a silent victory that she’s interested enough to hang out here and move on,” Darby muttered to herself before heading toward a large shed.

She dug out a bucket and some disinfectant and went to work on the large cage she’d pulled out of the garage the day before. The roomy nest served as Penny’s private area when she was preparing for her litter and Darby wanted it clean and fresh.

Penny might not be able to use it any longer but the activity and the bracing air gave Darby purpose and something to do.

It also kept her mind away from the subject of just how far off the rails her life had traveled.

She’d believed her savings would be enough to carry her through the next litter of puppies. But the problems kept mounting and there was no way she could take care of the business, the house, the taxes and the need to purchase a new dog for the breeding program on the small amount she had in the bank.

Bo’s once-thriving business with quite a few quality dogs was now down to Penny. Darby knew how much Bo had loved the dog and he’d obviously kept her even after he had to sell all the other German shepherds to keep things afloat.

Bo’s father, Edson, had begged Darby to keep the business going in his son’s memory, and she’d promised she would. It was only after seeing the degree of Bo’s debt that she was fast coming to understand she shouldn’t have made that promise.

What a mess.

Settling the thick padding from the base of the cage and the disinfectant on the porch, Darby headed inside to retrieve the water she’d left heating on the stove to mix with the cleaner. She’d nearly wrestled the heavy pot off the stove when the doorbell rang. Resettling the pot and narrowly avoiding the slosh of hot water against the edges, she headed for the front door. The house wasn’t large, but she prayed with each footfall that one of the nosy voice mails still waiting on her phone hadn’t decided to drive across town to strike up a conversation.

Offering up one more silent prayer, Darby pulled open the front door.

Just when she thought her day couldn’t get any worse, she came face-to-face with Finn Colton, the Red Ridge chief of police.

* * *

Finn appreciated the authority that came with his position and he made it a point to behave in a way that earned him respect. He’d met a few cops over the years who’d forgotten that the trust the public imbued in them was as important as honoring that trust. He’d never wanted to behave in a manner that disregarded that bond.

His surprise visit to Darby Gage was both deliberate and purposeful. Respectful, but deliberate all the same. While not quite full-on disregard for her trust, he was doing a bit of bearding the lion in its den.

Aka surprising the pretty divorcée. On purpose.

“Mrs. Gage. I was hoping you could find a few minutes to speak with me.”

“Chief Colton.” She nodded but made no move to let him in. “What can I do for you?”

“I wanted to talk to you about Bo for a bit.”

Resignation settled in her blue-violet gaze before she nodded her head. “Of course. Come in, please.”

He followed her into the small house, surprised to see how run-down the place was. He’d grown up well aware of the long-standing Colton-Gage feud but had always believed the Gages lived well enough to afford the basics. Though he had little interest subscribing to something as antiquated—and decades old—as the town family feud, his reaction to the state of Bo Gage’s home only reinforced that he’d never been particularly close with any of the Gages.

Fortunately, working with several members of the family on the force had changed that and he was grateful for it. Carson had his full respect, as did Carson’s younger half sister, Elle. Although still a rookie on the K-9 team, Elle handled herself with poise beyond her years and had a keen ability to partner with her K-9 charge.

In Finn’s estimation, the Gages weren’t so bad, even if his uncles, Fenwick and Rusty, as well as his father, Judson, continued to perpetuate the ridiculous notion of a feud. He’d been called to more than one heated incident between members of the two families since joining the RRPD and knew it was only a matter of time before there’d be another.

Truth be told, he was surprised there hadn’t been a skirmish yet, especially with a Gage murdered and a Colton as one of the suspects.

Even with his better understanding of the Gage family—or maybe because of it—Bo Gage’s home was unexpected. He might have been a slacker, but Bo was still the son of one of Red Ridge’s wealthier individuals, Edson Gage. Somehow Finn had expected Bo’s fortunes to be a bit more robust than the shabby decor suggested. Even as his gaze roamed the place, Finn had to give Darby credit. The furniture might be worn and run-down, but it was clean. He didn’t see dust on the end table or the TV and he could still see the outline of sweeper marks on the carpet.

Were murderesses that clean?

A quick scent memory of the bleach from the crime scene filled his nose and he struggled against the thought. Bo had been dead long enough that there would have been some accumulation of dust and dirt by now. Yet here she was, cleaning up and making the place her own.

“What would you like to discuss, Chief Colton?”

Darby’s question pulled him from his musings, but Finn had to admit the angle wasn’t one he’d considered. Perhaps it was time he started.

“You seem to be settling in.”

“I didn’t have much to move in with me.”

“Clean, too.” He stated it as an observation and was surprised when she just smiled back, her grin bright and proud.

“My mother raised me to believe cleanliness was next to godliness. Add on the fact that I’m keeping up with a seventy-pound German shepherd and my OCD kicks in hard.”

“Does the dog hate the mess?”

“No, Chief. I do. And the endless piles of hair a dog sheds.” She turned toward the kitchen. “Can I get you a cup of coffee?”

“That’d be nice.”

Finn followed Darby into the back of the house, smiling when the purported mess maker—a German shepherd with the same coloring as Lotte—came through a doggie door and trotted toward him. He extended his hand, keeping an easy smile on his face. “Hey there, girl.”

The dog slowed but continued forward, her tail wagging gently.

Finn kept his hand extended, pleased when she allowed him to pet her head. “Hi, sweetheart. What’s your name?”

“This is Penny.” The slightest grimace crossed Darby’s face before she shot an indulgent smile at the dog. “She sure seems to like you.”

He dropped to a knee and continued to level praise and affection on the dog. “Why do I sense that irritates you?”

“Let’s just say Penny and I have come to a grudging truce since I moved in.”

“How grudging?”

“I keep trying and Penny keeps her distance.”

Finn stood to his full height. “She’s a good girl. She’s just had a lot of upheaval lately. Bo loved this dog.”

“That he did. Which is why, when I was married to Bo, Penny and I had a reluctant truce, as well.”

“She didn’t like another woman in her territory?”

He saw the moment the idea struck, Darby’s eyes widening. “I never thought about it that way, but I guess I can see that.”

Finn had spent enough time with Lotte to know that she was deeply protective of him. And while that hadn’t extended to the women he dated—mostly because Finn made a solid point not to bring them around his partner—he knew it was something he’d likely deal with should he ever get back in deep enough in a relationship.

An image of Lotte meeting Darby struck him, the thought out of place for the job he was there to do. He needed to talk to Darby Gage about her potential involvement in a murder, not imagine her making friends with his dog.

So why had the image struck?

Darby handed over a mug, oblivious to his wayward thoughts. “What would you like in your coffee? I have cream, milk and sugar.”

“Cream would be fine.”

She retrieved the small carton from the fridge and handed it over.

Penny watched her before backing away to take a seat beneath the kitchen table.

“Yep.” Darby nodded as he handed back the carton. “She hates me.”

“She’s just trying to get used to you. Give her some time.”

“I suppose.”

Finn took a sip of his coffee and gestured to the table. “Mind if I take a seat?”

“Sure.”

She fixed her own mug and took a seat opposite him.

“Do you know Michael Hayden?”

“No, I’m afraid I don’t,” Darby said. “But I’ve had several calls this morning telling me something terrible has happened to him.”

“You could say that.”

“Was he murdered like Bo?”

“It appears so.”

She shook her head. “What makes people do such horrible things? I know Bo had his shortcomings, but to hurt him like that? It doesn’t make sense to me.”

Something weird bottomed in his stomach, fluttering beneath the caffeine hit, and Finn had to admit that he wanted to believe her. More than that, the sincerity in her eyes seemed legitimate. He had significant experience reading people—the wacky branches of his family ensured he had to be constantly on his toes—and he’d only further honed that skill with his job in law enforcement.

But the desire to believe her didn’t change the fact that her alibi on record was a bit weak for the night of Bo’s death. Nor did it keep him from having to ask where she was yesterday when Michael Hayden was murdered.

“Murder makes little sense.”

“And here in Red Ridge, of all places. I know people deal with this in large cities. But here?” She shuddered. “It doesn’t seem possible.”

The fact that she still hadn’t tracked to his line of thought was another checkmark in her favor, but none of it changed the point that she was one of the few who’d gained with Bo Gage’s murder. “You’ve benefitted from Bo’s death.”

The distracted blue gaze, focused on the small circles she drew around the lip of her mug, snapped to attention, fire heating their depths. “This again?”

There she was. Defensive. Because she was guilty?

“This house. His business. Penny.” Finn listed them all. “You’re the one who profited by Bo’s death.”

“I was interrogated by your detective after the reading of Bo’s will. I did not kill my ex-husband. But is that what you are suggesting, Chief Colton?”

“I’m just asking questions.”

“No, you’re not.” She settled her mug on the table, her gaze direct when she next looked at him. “So I’d like to know if I’m a suspect before I ask you to leave.”

* * *

Darby fought the waves of nerves that mixed her few sips of coffee into a dark sloshy brew in her stomach. Even with the subtle feeling that she was going to be sick, she refused to stand down.

How dare he come to her home and ask her questions like this?

She wasn’t a murderer. More than that, she’d been so busy since Bo’s death, she’d barely kept her head above water. What did he possibly think she was about?

And why?

Unbidden, images of the past few weeks’ front pages of the Red Ridge Gazette filled her mind’s eye.

Groom Killer on the Loose.

The Red Ridge Groom Killer—Crime of Passion or Premeditated Murder?

Love or Revenge? Does the Groom Killer Want Both?

One after the next, the headlines had grown more and more lurid as each day went by without any leads. The reporters at the Gazette had been having a field day with the biggest thing to hit Red Ridge since a four-month gold rush helped establish the town in the late nineteenth century. Now that a second groom had been killed, the headlines would only get worse.

Because it was worse, she reminded herself. There was a groom killer on the loose.

“You think I’m doing this? First Bo. Then this poor Michael Hayden, a man I didn’t even know.”

“I’m asking a few questions.”

“No, Chief Colton. You’re not.”

When he said nothing, she continued. “Can you honestly sit there and tell me you think I murdered my ex-husband to get my hands on this?” She gestured to the kitchen at large, stopping when her gaze landed on Penny. “Other than Penny, the man has left me with less than nothing.”

He seemed to soften a bit at her mention of the dog, his hard gaze softening as it grew speculative. “I’m not sure his fiancée sees it the same way.”

The comment was enough to respike her ire and Darby let out a heavy exhale. “Don’t think Hayley hasn’t been by a few times to make that very point.”

“Miss Patton’s been here?”

“Sure. She came to get her things. Made a point to prance out of the bedroom flaunting a small red negligee like it was going to hurt my feelings.”

“You were married to Bo Gage,” Chief Colton pointed out. He didn’t even blink at the mention of a red slinky number. “Presumably she thought it would upset you?”

“Bo and I parted on amicable terms. The best thing I can say about the day I signed my divorce papers was the sense of relief.”

“You weren’t upset?”

“I spent the majority of my marriage upset. By the time I reached that day, I was just happy to be out, free to go about my life.”

As the words settled between them, hovering somewhere over the sugar bowl in the middle of the table, Darby couldn’t deny their truth. She’d had no desire to be a divorcée at the age of twenty-seven, but in the ensuing two years she’d come to accept the fact that ending her marriage to Bo had been the right thing to do.

She might not have found anyone to move on with, but she had moved on. There was strength in that, and a deep sense of pride that she’d been willing to make the tough decisions and stand up for herself.

It had also toughened her up and she knew she didn’t have to sit there and answer Chief Colton’s questions, no matter how attractive the questioner.

And darn her stupid feminine awareness for picking up on that fact.

Whatever she’d expected when he’d arrived, Finn Colton wasn’t there to help her any more than any other gawkers who’d been by over the past few weeks. She was on her own.

Just like always.

But it was his next words that proved it.

“Would you be able to tell me your whereabouts for yesterday between the hours of seven and nine?”

Chapter 3

Finn poured himself another cup of precinct coffee, well aware the caffeine wasn’t going to do any favors for the slick knot that still twisted his gut. His interview with Darby Gage hadn’t gone well and after securing her unprovable alibi for Hayden’s murder—an evening in with Penny—he’d left her in a fine pique.

Although he’d been hoping for confirmation that she’d been out with girlfriends or even on a date, her pronouncement that she’d spent the cold winter night in with her obstinate new roommate hadn’t gotten him any nearer to removing Darby Gage from his suspect list.

He headed back to his desk from the small kitchenette the RRPD secretary, Lorelei Wong, maintained with the same ruthless efficiency with which she manned the front entrance. He’d deliberately used the single-cup brewer instead of making a pot so she wouldn’t come in Monday morning and razz him for making a mess. She’d probably still find an infraction, but at least he wouldn’t risk leaving a coffeemaker full of coffee grounds or stale coffee gone cold in the pot.

The case bothered him. He knew himself well enough to know that not only would it require his full concentration, but that that same concentration would likely reduce a few brain cells for the next few days.

Who was killing grooms-to-be in his town?

What makes people do such horrible things?

Darby’s question haunted him, nagging at the back of his sleep-deprived mind. After his visit to Bo Gage’s old residence, he’d headed back to the Circle T to review the latest crime scene with fresh eyes. The visit hadn’t turned up much, other than the fact that the town was shaken. The restaurant had reported that nearly all their Saturday night reservations had been canceled before the owner was even able to make the calls that they would be closed that evening.

But it was the comments the proprietor, Gus Hanley, had fielded from those canceling guests that had Finn concerned.

“If someone’s killing men who are about to get married, can I risk even going out on a date?”

“Big-city crime has come to Red Ridge. Maybe I need to try staying in for a while.”

“Should we reconsider our spring wedding?”

Along with the canceled reservations, Gus had lost two events for early March—one for an engagement party and one for a rehearsal dinner.

No doubt about it, Red Ridge was in a panic. As a lifelong resident, Finn found that sad. As chief of police—it was unbearable. He’d become a cop because he’d wanted to make a difference. The fact that he was good at it was an added bonus that kept him focused, determined and dedicated. The added added bonus of working with Lotte had sealed the deal.

He hadn’t always been a K-9 cop. His first few years on the force had been focused on learning the ropes and endless hours of traffic detail. But he’d showed promise and the old chief, Clancy Macintyre, had taken him under his wing. Chief Macintyre had been a good influence, balancing his innate ability to teach with the patience and care Finn’s own father had never exhibited.

Judson Colton was a rancher and a damn fine one. But he’d never understood his oldest son, a quiet kid with an unerring eye for detail. That had always been true and, whether by choice or by habit, he and his father maintained a respectful distance. His father’s second wife, Joanelle, had made that even easier to accomplish with her cold ways and dismissal of Judson’s first child as a burden she was forced to carry.

But there was one thing ranch life had taught Finn and that was his love of animals. His opportunity to move in to the K-9 unit and work with a trained canine partner had taken his love of police work and made it his life’s calling.

He was good at his job and he was good to the men and women who worked for him. They all kept Red Ridge safe and took pride in their role as protectors. And someone had come to their town and violated all they’d built.

Suddenly tired of it all, including the need to question petite women with silky hair and what read as determined—but innocent—eyes, Finn headed for his desk. The case weighed on him and he’d be no good to anyone if he didn’t clear his head. It was time to wrap up the little paperwork he’d come in for, get his notes on the interview with Darby logged in and head home. Maybe he’d make a steak and a baked potato, the hearty meal a way to relax and recharge.

And then he’d eat it alone.

That thought hit harder than all the others that had bombarded him throughout the day.

He’d been alone since his divorce and had believed himself okay with it. He’d had dates from time to time. Had even progressed to something more like a relationship a few years back with a sweet teacher down in Black Hills City. But, ultimately, things hadn’t worked out. She’d had visions of the future and in the end he simply couldn’t get his head on the same page.

So why was he now imagining enjoying his steak and potato with a companion?

One who looked suspiciously like Darby Gage.

The squad room was quiet. His cousin Brayden, another K-9 cop on the team, was tapping away at his keyboard. He was nodding his head to whatever music pumped through his ears—classic rock, if Finn knew his cousin—but he did holler a “yo” as Finn passed.

Finn briefly toyed with inviting Brayden to join him for dinner, but for some reason the thought of sharing a steak and a beer with his cousin—whom he liked quite a bit—didn’t entice the same way as images of dining with Darby.

Since his latest set of notes wouldn’t write itself, Finn opted to ignore thoughts of dinner altogether as he sat down. His desk held what he considered a comfortable amount of clutter: stacks of files, a handful of notes, and a series of sticky notes that littered the top of his desk and the edges of his computer monitor. Shifting a stack of folders farther to the edge, he knocked over a dark box, the square packaging making a heavy thud as it hit the floor.