THE RENEGADE RANCHER (7 page)

Chapter Nine

Entering his office, he turned on the recorder before he talked himself out of documenting his mistake the night before with the car and again when Lindsey had run to Brian for help. He’d already gone through the pros and cons of admitting he’d underestimated his opponent. And now he had a new one—Brian. It seemed the twin cowboys were slightly more complex than he’d given them credit for.

“What made you expose yourself to— Strike that. Expose is the wrong word. I became too inquisitive and forgot the key to my success—patience. The real question is how Brian Sloane could make me forget my protocol.”

That answer needed pondering. The leather of the couch creaked under him as he stretched out.

“Side note. Brian Sloane is certainly good-looking. Many would say he’s handsome, especially in his work jeans and T-shirt, but he would never succumb to my...indulgences. He’d never beg for his life. Perhaps that’s why he’s higher on my radar than Lindsey.”

He sat straight, realizing he’d recorded the wild, uncontrolled side of his personality. The half he rewarded, not the disciplined planner he wanted the world to have firsthand knowledge about. He could rerecord that particular segment—just run it backward and tape over it again. It was almost cheating.

“And I hate cheaters.”

The selected words he left here were for history. He didn’t need to
cheat
by deleting the tape. Just clarify.

“That’s what’s so frustratingly brilliant about the Sloane brothers. Facing two of them is almost like they’re cheating. I watched Brian while he was with my next victim. He’s very attached to her. Even through the camera I could see his attachment growing.”

He smiled at his play on words. Then eyed his decanter, longing for the sharp sting of the liquor washing down his throat.

“Brian’s feelings for the Cook girl will eventually work against him.” The vodka decanter caught his eye again and he swung his legs off the couch, sitting closer to the clear ambrosia.

“When John turned from their drive, I knew he would pursue me. Very predictable, since I would have done the same thing. And that’s what I’ll enjoy most about this last campaign. Those brothers will force me to be more creative in my thinking. I must also be careful and not misjudge them again. This game is different. They think they know something about me.”

He picked up the vodka decanter and tipped two fingers’ worth into his glass.

“They think I’m patient and predictable, waiting for an opportunity to strike. No one understands me, nor will they. The best time for me to strike is soon and unexpectedly. Catch her off guard and blame the Sloanes, just like I did twelve years ago.”

He turned the recorder off, then swirled his drink and saluted the hidden microphone in the ceiling. Knowing he had to finish his reward sooner than he’d wanted.

“They’ll never see me coming.”

Chapter Ten

Brian drove the speed limit, not taking any chances about being pulled over. This wasn’t the time to push his luck with law enforcement. His one saving grace through the past eight years had been his boss at the ambulance company. He’d looked at him as a person and given him a chance when no one else would after a background check.

Playing the part of a supposed criminal had been rebellious for a while, but when he needed money to supplement the ranch, there’d been nowhere to go. An EMT course at a junior college and the trust of one man willing to hire him showed him a different path. He’d advanced as a paramedic in Fort Worth but had never cleared up that bad-boy image his hometown had accepted.

“I really hope you know what you’re doing,” Lindsey mumbled again. She’d been doubting him from the moment he’d pulled out of his drive and stated they were headed to her house.

It was clear as a hot summer’s day that he didn’t know what he was doing. When would she catch on? How was he supposed to find a man who had orchestrated fatal accidents for fourteen people and never been caught?

“You know, Lindsey, I’m a rancher or a paramedic, depending on what day you choose. I can track a bobcat or keep you alive with a rig full of equipment. But keeping you safe from a murdering madman? I think that needs some special training.”

“As in police?”

“You got it.”

“Then why are we headed to Jeremy’s?” she asked, maybe picking up on his hesitation to pull into the driveway. “What are you looking for?”

“We’ll take a quick look at your cousin’s papers and hopefully find a place for the police to begin an investigation. If the cops have evidence, they’ll have to get involved and offer you protection.”

“Are you certain you want to go back there?”

He shook his head. “We need your cousin’s papers and you need clothes. And sensible shoes.”

“I have hiking boots and running shoes.”

“Get them.” He backed into the driveway. “Can I park in the garage?”

“Sure, the opener’s in my purse. Give me just a sec.”

What was he doing? Was she in danger here? Was he so desperate to find a clue that he hadn’t thought about her safety? He was out of his depth and needed to convince her. He couldn’t protect her. He shouldn’t be trying to. He’d been forced to get Lindsey away from his family and that was as far as he’d thought about it.

What if the rat bastard chasing her took his vengeance out on Lauren? That couldn’t happen. They’d been through enough with the little girl’s kidnapping and Alicia’s crazy stepfamily.

“Here it is.” She pointed and clicked before he could say wait.

Garage was empty, not even a lawnmower. And there probably wasn’t anyone in the house, but he needed to make certain.

“Why don’t you get behind the wheel and I’ll go inside to check things out. Alone. Just in case, be ready to get out of here in a hurry.”

“Sorry to disappoint, but I’m not staying anywhere by myself. That’ll be my scared-to-death hand hanging on to your back belt loop as you search the creepy dark rooms.” She got out of the car. “My door is staying open for a fast getaway. You should leave yours open, too.”

He began to shut the Camaro’s door, but left it open after a cute, manicured finger pointed directions to do so. He’d laugh if she weren’t so serious. Then again, being cautious couldn’t hurt. He unlocked the trunk and retrieved his SIG. Gun in one hand and keys in the other, he unlocked the dead bolt.

A gentle tug on his pants assured him Lindsey was just behind, hanging on tight. He cracked the door open, listened, slid through the opening and flipped on the lights. Total silence in the house with the exception of the gurgling fish tank. They made a thorough search, room by room. They flattened curtains to the wall, opened closets filled with her cousin’s things.

It was midafternoon. The curtains and blinds were closed in the main bedroom, making the room darker, but nothing was blacked out. But even if it had been, he recognized the smell of death. In his line of work he experienced it often. The distinct smell of blood hit his nose as soon as he cracked open the door.

“Go wait in the kitchen.”

“Why?” she whispered, death grip still on his jeans.

“I don’t think you should see this.”

“I stay with you. Period.”

“Shut your eyes and cover your mouth. Whatever’s in there...don’t scream and have the whole neighborhood calling 911.”

She did as he instructed. One glance at the body on the bed and he knew the person was dead. Between the smell and the amount of blood on the white sheets, there wasn’t any doubt. It was recent; most of the blood hadn’t dried.

Lindsey moved to his side, released his jeans, and he knew what was next. He wanted to scream along with her. Or shout and curse the animal who had done this. The sound began behind him, but he was able to shut it down by blocking her view and placing his hand over her open mouth.

The light from the master bath was a beacon in the dimness. He shoved Lindsey through the door and she immediately knelt by the toilet, heaving. He left her there.

There was even less afternoon light with the door pulled closed. He used the back of his hand to flip the light switch. Eight years as a paramedic and he’d never seen anything that turned his stomach. This did. He hadn’t noticed it in the dim light, but now that his eyes were adjusting, the blood was everywhere.

Some of the blood spatters on the wall were dry. Could the murderer have done part of this after they’d left? Had he been here waiting for Lindsey to come home after the accident?

If he had dropped her off at the curb last night, that would have been Lindsey.

The woman was bound to the headboard, her blistered hands limp. It looked as if she’d been forced to hold a searing iron. Brutally tortured. There were dozens of slashes and burns on her body. She’d been in a lot of pain for hours.

Checking for a pulse would be useless, but the paramedic in him had to be certain. There was no way to get near the body without stepping in her blood. He reached the head of the bed and raised the blood-soaked throw pillow by its corner.

The fright in the woman’s eyes—he’d never seen anything like it. Patches of her face had been skinned. He couldn’t imagine what type of psycho would do something like this. He touched her carotid artery.

Dead, but not yet cold.

The victim had pale blond hair, sky-blue eyes—she could easily have been mistaken for Lindsey. But the man chasing the last of the Cook family knew her. Had studied her. Wouldn’t make the mistake of killing someone in error.

No, he’d done this deliberately to make it look like Lindsey was dead.

“Oh. My. God. Oh, my God.” Lindsey stood in the bath doorway. “Brian, how could anyone do this? She doesn’t have— There’s nothing left— Didn’t anyone hear her scream? Didn’t she scream? There’s so much blood. How could someone do this to another human being?”

Dropping the pillow, he leaped away from the bed, spinning Lindsey away from the horrific scene and slamming the thin door behind him. Lindsey’s breathing became erratic. She shook, her hands flailing and hitting his shoulders.

“Look at
me,
Lindsey. You are not having an attack. Not now. Do you hear me? We don’t have time for you to fall apart. Get control. You’re hyperventilating and we need to slow your breathing.”

Her panicked eyes locked with his as he slipped his hand over her mouth, allowing her to draw air through his fingers. He slowly laced his fingers of his free hand with hers while her breathing slowed. He needed her to hold it together.

“You okay?” he whispered, swallowing down the bile gathering in his throat and wanting to forget everything he’d seen in the bedroom. “Do you know her?”

She shook her head, eyes still wide with disbelief.

“You said you had a pair of hiking boots?”

She nodded.

“Grab ’em, along with some jeans, T-shirts, a coat. Anything you might need. You aren’t coming back here.”

She drew a deep breath. “We should— What about the police? We can’t just leave without—”

“Yes, we can. I’ve been picked up too many times over the past twelve years. They’re going to lock me up
now
and clear me
later.
” He looked at the blood he’d tracked onto the tile. “If I’m lucky.”

“That’s ridiculous. We can prove you had nothing to do with her death. The...the photographer. He knows you were at the ranch this morning.”

“I didn’t get the guy’s name. There’s a bunch of circumstantial evidence pointing toward me.” He’d researched her family, tailed her, confronted her at the sandwich shop. Then the accident and witnesses who saw them leaving the hospital together. “Damn, how could I be so stupid? The man trying to kill you is smart. He’s been following you, yet you haven’t seen him. Hell,
I
followed you and didn’t see him.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The van. Seeing the van parked so obviously on the road directly in front of the barn. He wanted
us to see him, to feel threatened and leave the ranch. That was his plan. This girl hasn’t been dead long. It’s a setup to get me out of his hair. While I’m in jail, he’ll eliminate the last Cook.”

Lindsey’s face went pale under her golden tan. “That’s despicable. I can’t imagine anyone going to that much trouble to kill someone. You can’t know that for certain.”

“Right or wrong, we don’t have much time.” He gently walked her back a couple of steps to crack the door open behind him. “I have a feeling the killer will phone in an anonymous tip, bringing the police here shortly.”

“That’s ridiculous. I’ve been with you the whole time. Or your family was right there.”

“And during the time you’re proving all that, who’s going to be protecting you?”

“The police, for one.”

“They won’t. You’ll be alone. Vulnerable to attack.”

“What if I’m with someone? You can take me to Beth’s house or Craig’s. I can hide there with his wife.” She shoved her hair back from her face. “No, that would put his family at risk and Beth lives alone. They’d all be in danger.”

“That’s why we leave. Together.”

“All right. But I’m not going back into that room to get my stuff.”

“I’ll take care of it. Did Jeremy have a laptop?”

“It’s in his study, mine’s in the living room.”

“I’ll get you a couple of days of clothes. Where’s a suitcase?”

“In the hall closet. Brian...” Her soft touch down his bare arm stopped him. “I’m sorry for getting you involved.”

He pulled her to his chest, speaking into her hair. “You aren’t to blame. The psychopath targeting your family is the only person responsible.”

“But what about your job, your family? I can disappear and not worry about this guy again.” She tilted her head back. Her soft blue eyes were filled with fright and questions. “You don’t have to do this.”

The idea of her walking out of his life forever made his brain scream no. If she really wanted to leave, he’d go with her. But would this guy walk away, too?

“Whoever’s trying to kill you has been at this for almost twenty years. Do you think he’ll give up? Ever? After seeing what he did in that room, I don’t think he’s going to stop with you. He likes it.” Saying the words left a disgusting taste in his mouth, but he knew they were true. “We have to stop this guy.”

“You’re right.” She dropped her forehead against his chest again.

Keeping his arm around her, he placed a towel across the counter, very aware of every minute they delayed. “Put what you need on the towel. And grab stuff for a first-aid kit.”

She slipped from his arm and was done in seconds.

“Trust me, Lindsey.” She nodded and he placed a second towel loosely around her face to block the view and smell, then walked her back to the living room. “Did your cousin have any legal papers? Anything that might help us figure out what this guy is after?”

“I’ll find them.”

“We’re out of here in five. If—”

“No ifs. I’ll get everything from his office and be ready.”

He left her and went back to the murdered woman, hating to disturb the scene even more, but he had to. He couldn’t wipe this place clean just in case the killer had left evidence. But the police would find out who Brian was fast enough. His prints were in the system, not only because of his job. The police in Aubrey had booked him when he’d confessed the night of Gillian Cook’s death.

He typed a detailed text to his brother and took a minute waiting for the reply, deleting the phone history afterward. Then he composed a message to an officer he knew in Fort Worth and left it on the screen, leaving his phone on the dresser in plain sight. He hoped the cops would find the man in the message and he’d give a word in Brian’s favor.

The phone was useless since the GPS could ping their location as soon as he turned it on. His brother knew where to meet him. That message would be retrieved, but the police would be delayed ordering the phone records. He didn’t need much time at the apartment. A couple of hours of rest and a plan. That was all.

They wouldn’t be able to show their faces in public, so he grabbed the things on top of the towel and shoved clothes from her dresser inside the carry-on and turned off the lights.

Lindsey was scrubbing her hands at the kitchen sink, a laptop bag next to her feet. There was something wrong with her actions. The rubbing got faster, almost frantic. She was in shock.

* * *

L
INDSEY
WAS
CERTAIN
blood was on her hands. How it got there, she didn’t know. She hadn’t touched the dead woman, but it was there. The afternoon sun was bright coming through the kitchen window, and her hands were covered in soap as she used the scrubber to claw at her fingers. But she could feel the cold blood sticking to her skin.

Brian’s warm exhale skimmed her neck, and his fingers wrapped around hers under the scalding water before he reached around her and cut the faucet off. “It’s okay, Lindsey. We should leave now.”

He put the strap of the bag over his shoulder and nudged her toward the garage door.

“Wait. We’ll need food.” She pulled cans and frozen dinners and health bars and dropped them into grocery sacks.