Alana Candler, Marked for Murder (28 page)

His scowl communicated a clear meaning:
That fool woman! Doesn’t she know someone’s trying to kill her
?

Suddenly, it hit her. Someone
was
trying to kill her. Would she be safe away from this bubble of protection in the woods? What in the world was she about to do?

FIFTY-FIVE

JAYDN SAT ACROSS THE TABLE
from Alana and stared at her. Was she crazy? Risking her life to go see a bunch of kids at an orphanage. He sat there shaking his head in indecision until he said slowly, “All right, Alana. But, if you go, I’m taking you in my car—it’s tinted. No one will be able to see you.”

Alana turned her head and looked out the window. He could see she was resolved. If she let him come along, it wouldn’t make a difference, but if he stopped her from going, he’d have a battle on his hands.

She nodded her agreement. “Okay. You can drive.”

Jaydn stood up and stretched before asking, “What did you mean when you said they might lose their building?”

“Their landlord sent them word he wants them to move. He wants to tear down the building to build a parking garage for the town.”

Jaydn paused. “Don’t they have a lease?”

“Yeah, but the landlord’s lawyer found some kind of loophole. They’re afraid they’ll have to move—they have no place to go. It’s a privately-owned orphanage, so the state will step in if they can’t move all the kids to another location. They’ll be separated. Some of them are siblings, and that scares them to death. Right now, they’re just one big family.”

During her speech, the hair on the back of Jaydn’s neck tingled. Something in what she said created an uneasy surge up his spine. Steve’s words, “just some non-profit group,” emerged from the back of his mind.

“Where did you say the orphanage is located?”

“Right in the middle of downtown Bishop.”

Jaydn held his breath. Was he about to evict a bunch of kids from their home? For what? A money-making parking garage?

Shame boiled in his gut. The color in his face must have blanched white because he felt every drop of blood drained to his middle. Thankfully, it was all lost on Alana as she rambled on about the kids and their relationship to each other. By the end of her long explanation, Jaydn had called himself every bad name in the book.

No wonder Alana hated people with money. If she found out he was the one evicting her friends, it would add fuel to her harsh opinion of wealthy businessmen.

He’d been narcissistic and self-serving about so many things lately, but this orphanage thing was the icing on the cake. Finding a solution for this problem would be difficult. The kids meant everything to Alana. They filled her life so full that there was no room for a “rich, arrogant business executive”—something he was—like it or not.

Jaydn’s thoughts were interrupted by a defeated mutter from Brad. Leaning across the table, Brad planted his elbows firmly on the shiny, aged wood.

“All right, Alana. I have to let you go, but I don’t like it. I’m going home this morning, but call and let me know what time you’re coming on Monday. If I can’t go with you, I’ll make sure one of the guys will.”

Alana nodded, grinning at her victory.

She might be happy because she won, but Jaydn saw something else in her eyes: fear. The person trying to kill her had seen through her disguise and discovered her move to his apartment—he might do it again. Would she be safe?

Alana sighed, and then Jaydn saw her features covered with a wave of peace like a warm blanket. She was remembering something she had already told them both: God would protect her.

FIFTY-SIX

AFTER HIS CONVERSATION WITH THE
lab, exhaustion and excitement made Brad hold the phone for a minute before returning it to its cradle. He sat down in his office chair, perplexed.

The black hair found at the last murder scene was a perfect match to DNA they found in the elevator of the hotel where Alana was abducted.

Didn’t this prove that Alana’s kidnapping and the murders were connected? A small voice in his head had been telling him all along that they were, but the connection never materialized until now. The murderer must have thought that Alana had seen something incriminating at the murder scene. That’s why she was followed to the hotel, kidnapped, and sent into the lake.

Unless, someone in the dark SUV had followed her to the hotel from Landeville for a different reason.

For whatever reason, it was likely he used the elevator to get to her room and carry her body to the car. It would have been hard to carry her body and her luggage down the stairs in the middle of the hotel walkway without someone seeing or hearing the commotion.

Now maybe the judge would give him a search warrant. He’d get DNA samples from every guest and employee at the hotel that night. It might take a while, but if it panned out, they’d have their murderer and Alana’s kidnapper—all in one fell swoop.

Of course, there was a chance the kidnapper wasn’t a guest or employee at the hotel, but they all needed to be contacted anyway. Someone might have seen the SUV or even the person driving.

He had to get some sleep. Then hopefully—maybe—all the pieces would fall into place.

He wrote notes on what the lab told him and filed them away in his briefcase for the morning when he’d meet with his men. If they got together and brainstormed about the facts, maybe they’d finally be able to put pieces together and solve this puzzle.

Brad got busy the next day. After calling Judge Collins on the phone, he hoisted up his expanding briefcase and stepped into Bo’s office. Bo was leaning over his desk—pushing a stack of paperwork around to make room for the steaming cup of coffee in his hand.

“Bo, I’ve got a job for you tomorrow.”

Bo finally shoved several large folders off on the floor to make more room on the cluttered desk.

“What did you say, Brad?”

Brad frowned and repeated his last statement. “I said, I’ve got a job for you tomorrow. I want you and Kent, or maybe Elliott, to collect DNA samples from each of the guests who stayed at the hotel the night Alana was kidnapped. The ones from out of state will have to be collected from the local authorities.”

Bo sat up alert in the chair.

“What’s up, Brad?”

“The black hair at the last murder scene matches one taken from the hotel elevator. That means the two might be connected. Judge Collins is giving us a warrant to check DNA samples of all the staff and guests for the week before the kidnapping.”

“Wow! You really think the two might be connected?”

“Don’t know for sure, but if they are, the murderer might be the one who kidnapped Alana.”

“Yeah, you might be right. I know Alana will be glad to find the person who tried to do her in.” He took a sip of his coffee, noticed a ring left on his desk, and wiped it with his shirt sleeve before setting his cup down. Rubbing his jaw thoughtfully, Bo said, “You know, I don’t think you ever said where you moved her to.”

Brad stood unmoving for a moment before aiming a narrow-eyed look at Bo. “I’m keeping that information to myself. I’m not telling anybody. Somehow, it leaked before, but this time I’m keeping my trap shut.”

Bo pushed back from his desk and stood up—his face red with irritation. “Well, if you don’t trust me, then—”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, Bo, but these things have a way of leaking out. When it means Alana’s life, it doesn’t matter who it is, I’m not telling.” His jaw tightened. He didn’t want to hurt the feelings of his friend, but he also had a responsibility to his sister. It was as important as her life.

Bo faced Brad and spoke, not bothering to hide his anger. “Let me know if you need my help protecting her—if you can trust me, that is.” His tone was full of sarcasm.

Brad rubbed his face with his hand. He turned to walk away from Bo’s office and almost tripped over Kent hovering behind the door. “Hey, man. Watch out! What’re you doing hiding behind the door?”

“Sorry. I lost my pen.” The apologetic man stammered as he made a swipe at the floor and avoided eye contact.

Brad looked at Kent and remembered something. “Can I see you in my office a minute?”

Kent followed Brad down the hall and raised a curious eyebrow when Brad closed the door behind them.

Brad reached inside his desk and pulled out a piece of wadded up tissue.

“We found this in Chet’s desk drawer with your name on it. Is it yours?”

Kent examined the yellow diamond ring. “Nope. Never saw it before.”

Brad frowned. “I guess Chet must have meant for you to have it since he scribbled your name on it. It’s yours.”

Kent stared at the yellow diamond ring—something unreadable glowing in his face. “Wow. For real? I didn’t know Chet could afford something so classy.”

“I haven’t checked it out, but I imagine it’s paste. Chet lived like the rest of the other rookies—from paycheck to paycheck. There’s no way he could afford a real stone like that. Do you know what yellow diamonds are worth?”

Kent shrugged and slipped the ring on his finger. “Wonder why he wanted me to have it. It’s not like we were best friends or anything—like Elliott. Why didn’t he give it to Elliott?”

Brad shrugged. “Beats me. Listen, I never saw your report on the hotel investigation you and Bo did after Alana’s attack. I wanted your opinion of what you saw that day . . . the room, the walls, the carpet, etc.”

Kent shrugged again. “I never made it to the hotel that day. Got called to a brush fire on
Pine Road. Turned out to be a false alarm. Bunch of kid playing in a vacant lot. By the time I got the report filed, Bo was already back at the station. He handled the investigation and all the paperwork. You’ll have to ask him.”

Brad sat on the edge of his desk, perplexed. Bo never mentioned handling the hotel by himself. Knowing how Bo hated to do leg work, Brad figured Bo would have complained at least until Christmas. He shrugged and watched Kent admiring the ring on his finger.

“Don’t let that ring go to your head, and don’t let it hinder your work, okay?”

Kent stiffened. “You know me better than that.” The tone of his voice could fry eggs.

Brad rubbed his forehead. He had to solve these cases in a hurry. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have a sister or a friend left.

FIFTY-SEVEN

ALANA SAT INDIAN STYLE ON
the den carpet—pictures and papers spread across the floor in front of her. Creepy sensations crawled across her skin as she flipped through the pictures of the bloody sheet. After studying the photos of the body from different angles, she grouped them together and hid them back in the envelope.

Out of sight, out of mind. She shivered.

Most of Saturday and Sunday was spent viewing crime scene photographs meticulously and repeatedly—with no success. Nothing in the pictures revealed anything out of the ordinary. There was no “smoking gun” to give them the name of the murderer—no revealing evidence—no “
ah-ha
” moment.

“It doesn’t make sense.”

Frustration drained her strength, and she sat back against the chair in a dejected huddle. Rubbing her eyes with the palms of her hands, she had a hopeful thought. Maybe Jaydn would be able to see something she was too close to the situation to see.

Thoughts of Jaydn hovered in front of her like the sunshine filtering in through the curtains. For some reason, he had withdrawn from her. The warmth that radiated from their relationship two days ago had cooled to a frosty breath of air.

Something she did must have disappointed him. Maybe it was that kiss. She’d been too eager.

Knowing he pushed her away hurt. He had locked himself in his office to emphasize the separation in spirit, and had emerged only a few times from behind the heavy door. When he came out to eat or sleep, his face was pinched and drained.

She could have forced her way into his office and his attention, but it would have been a fatal mistake. Every minute she spent with him only increased the longing for more.

Obviously, his feelings toward her had changed. Instead of torturing her already-breaking heart, she tried avoiding him as well. Her resolve to keep their relationship on a friends-only basis strengthened.

Easier said than done!

Something about him made her knees go weak and her stomach churn with anticipation. Her strong resolve to remain friends and nothing more was hard to keep when her body refused to cooperate.

Keeping a firm distance was her only option.

She forced her mind away from thinking of Jaydn and began sorting photographs into piles. Pictures of the same area in each room were grouped together. After sorting them, she began flipping through each stacked pile.

Suddenly, she pulled out two identical pictures and stared at them critically. They were in the same grid of the search area, and yet something felt different. Her skin prickled as she stared at the two pictures.

“What is it about these two pictures?”

She scanned them carefully, hoping the solution would jump up and grab her attention.