The abandoned hardware store had been totally flattened. West thought it looked as if a giant stomped on it, squashing the roof, toppling the walls and shattering what was left of the broken windows.
West was so focused on solving the Groom Killer case, on finding Demi Colton, that he figured her into every crime that affected Red Ridge. Blowing up a building to take the focus off the murders would allow her to sneak around the city more easily, hunt down the grooms who’d refused to hide their love and relationships.
But Demi hadn’t done this, unless she graduated to high-tech explosives.
Then again, Demi Colton was a smart woman, a clever bounty hunter, and anything was possible.
Lights flashed from RRPD patrol cars and fire trucks lining the dirt road in front of the abandoned hardware store. Nearby, several tent canopies sat over tables for collection of evidence—the command post—along with an industrial generator. Yellow crime scene tape had already been strung up along the perimeter, where a crowd of curious bystanders started to gather. He recognized some of the hard-core patrons from Rusty Colton’s bar and gritted his teeth. Drunk civilians were a pain to deal with, and worse at a crime scene.
His pulse raced as he parked his black Ford truck. West grabbed his kit, climbed out and then skirted around the side to let out Rex. The Lab jumped out and stood close to his side as West surveyed the detectives and cops already milling around the scene—the abandoned building he and Rex had jogged by earlier this morning. He raked a hand through his hair and sighed.
At his side, the dog gave him a reproachful look as if to say, I told you so.
“Hey, I checked it out,” he told Rex.
He took a deep, calming breath. Steady now.
Every time he investigated an explosion, he remembered that day when he was seventeen, and his entire family had been killed by a bomb. He had been the sole survivor.
Surviving only because he’d been out with his girlfriend, parked at the local lovers’ lane. The sex had been good, and quick and forgettable.
What he saw when he arrived home had not been forgettable.
Focus. Priorities. Safety first. West took another deep breath and glanced at Rex.
“Let’s do this.”
Every inch of the scene had to be processed, numbered and documented. His dog would alert him where the most evidence of the bomb was, while other investigators would sort out the scene for shrapnel embedded in the building and dirt.
But not until he and Rex checked out the scene for unexploded devices.
Ducking under the tape, he headed for the staging tent and grabbed a white hazmat suit and put it on, along with booties. Then he took the specially made booties he’d ordered for Rex and attached them to the dog’s paws, fastening them with Velcro. The booties would not only protect Rex’s paws from broken glass and debris, but helped preserve the integrity of the crime scene, as well.
Chief Finn Colton saw him and headed to the tent. He glanced at Rex.
“We’ve divided the building into four quadrants. Need you and Rex to search for secondary devices. When you give the all clear, I want you to search for evidence in the fourth quadrant—the southwest corner.”
“No prob.” West motioned to Rex and they entered the blown-out building.
The bomb had been a big one. Glass windows had been shattered from more than two hundred feet away and the boards that blocked the windows were now shards.
Any hopes this was a prank pulled by kids were immediately dashed. Kids who liked to blow things up wouldn’t cause this kind of destruction.
No, they’d take a pipe bomb into the woods and then explode it, watching the destruction from afar.
He recognized Cal Flinders from the district Alcohol, Tobacco & Firearms office. Cal was one of the few he trusted.
West nodded at Cal and gripped Rex’s leash. Safety first. If there were any unexploded devices on scene, his dog would detect them.
“Find,” he ordered Rex, still gripping the leash.
Rex combed through all the sectors, searching for secondary devices. When he finished, he remained standing. West stared at the wreckage. No bodies today.
Not like at his family’s house, where he’d screamed and tried to break past the barricades, get to his father, mother, two little sisters...
Focus. Rex looked up at him expectantly. All clear, we okay? the dog seemed to ask.
“Quadrants one, two, three and four all clear,” West called out.
Next, he began scouring the area of the building assigned to him. Rex sniffed through the debris. The bomb had detonated in the building’s center, where the worst damage was, but shrapnel traveled far. Patterns of the damage indicated how powerful the explosion was. Fortunately, no one had been injured.
Rex nosed beneath a piece of wood and sat. West hunkered down and examined the evidence.
Caked with dust and soot, it was heart shaped and partly bent. A woman’s gold compact, with a butterfly design. West photographed the item and then studied it. It was covered with a film of white powder.
Bomb residue.
A woman had been here. Possibly slept here, or at the very least, stayed here for longer than a few minutes. He started to put a marker by the place where it had been, and hesitated.
Maybe Demi Colton hadn’t planted this bomb, but this suggested she might have worked with the unknown suspect, the unsub. Or another woman had.
His cop instincts tingled. The RRPD assumed he was simply an FBI canine officer temporarily assigned to Red Ridge while one of their officers recovered from an injury.
No one on the force knew he was secretly investigating to see if the RRPD and Chief Finn and the other Coltons were deliberately dragging their heels on the Groom Killer investigation. If this compact belonged to Demi Colton, it might vanish before it could even be processed as evidence. Were the Coltons protecting their own? He didn’t know. Hell, he wasn’t even sure if his own secret fiancée was keeping her half sister’s whereabouts to herself. Better to be safe and bring the compact back to the district office to test it.
Looking around to make sure no one saw, West bagged the evidence and carried it separately instead of dumping it into the official evidence collection bag he carried.
Why blow up an abandoned building? What was the deal with the overkill? Was someone testing out how to cause as much destruction as possible?
Was it Demi Colton trying to diffuse attention so she could target her next victim without the cops on red alert for her?
He couldn’t remain there staring at the debris. He had to do his job. An RRPD cop in a hazmat suit came over as West removed an item from his kit.
“Nice.” The officer whistled. “You feds have the funding for the latest equipment.”
West looked at him. “You’re contaminating my crime scene.”
“Chief sent me over to see if you need help.”
“I don’t.”
Grunting, the cop left. West switched on the ion mobility detector and swept his assigned quadrant. The machine could pick up trace amounts of chemicals, helping him determine what kind of bomb had exploded.
The unit sucked in air to test for traces of chemicals. It didn’t take long.
Swearing under his breath, he switched off the machine. Just as he’d suspected, but the job required details, more details and more details.
Returning to the command post, he told Finn Colton what he’d found. Then West glanced at the man standing just outside the crime scene tape, staring with avid interest at the bombed building.
He jerked a thumb at the man. “Curious bystander?”
Finn shook his head. “Witness. He’s already been interviewed. Drove right past before the bomb exploded.”
After the chief summarized what the man had said, West decided to talk to the witness himself. Experience taught him it was best to get firsthand information himself, before memories grew dim. People’s detailed memories got muzzy real quick. Besides, if someone saw something linking Demi Colton to this explosion, and that interview got buried...
West peeled off his gloves and chucked them into a biohazard container, heading for the middle-aged man.
Slightly chunky, with quick, eager green eyes, the man looked around as if this were entertainment arranged just for him. West knew the type—self-important, glad to help, wanted to get his name in the paper. Still, he took a moment to study the witness. Though West had been in town less than a month, he didn’t recognize him.
West introduced himself and scribbled the man’s name—Santo Nestor. A cigarette dangled out of the corner of his mouth. He puffed constantly.
Nicotine addict.
“What were you doing at this end of town?”
Keeping his voice mild, he studied the witness’s eye movement. The man stared earnestly back at him.
“I was headed into the city to grab a bite,” Nestor said in a thick Hispanic accent. “I’m a salesman. Thought maybe I could scope the place out at the local eatery, make a few contacts. I sell aluminum siding for houses.”
Better than bridal supplies in this town. West made a few notes. “What did you see?”
Nestor prattled on the same thing he’d told detectives.
“Black smoke after the explosion?” West asked.
The man shook his head. “White smoke. I was so afraid, I almost wet my pants. Oh, Dios mío, I was damn lucky, I was right in front when it blew. I’ve been all over the country, never seen anything like this. What kind of place is Red Ridge, anyway, with terrorists bombing buildings?”
West took a long, thorough look at the man. Puffy cheeks, thick, dark brows, and a bulbous nose.
Drinker, as well as smoker.
White shirt, rolled up at the sleeves. Black hair slicked back with too much gel. Slight paunch oozing over his cheap leather belt. No tie. Black trousers, cotton, a bit casual for a salesman, but it was August in South Dakota and warm. His gaze scanned the trousers. Rumpled, maybe from driving a long distance.
“Longtime smoker?” West pointed to the cigarette.
Nestor shrugged, tossed the butt and ground it out with his leather shoe heel. “Si. Road trips get long. My ex tried to get me to quit. No luck. Did get me to give up the Cubans. I love a good Cuban. You smoke?”
West shook his head. “Where is your next client?” he asked.
The salesman flicked a hand toward the west. “I don’t have an appointment until next week in Cheyenne. I was checking out the town for prospects. Going to stay a couple of days. You know any places in town that are good?”
You mean ones that don’t blow up? West shook his head.
After taking the man’s cell phone and home address, plus the name of his company, West closed his notebook. Santo Nestor returned to his car, tossed the cigarette butt out the window and drove off.
Litterbug. He loathed civilians contaminating the area anywhere near his crime scene.
Glancing with disgust at the cigarette, he bagged it and put it in his pocket as evidence just in case.
Then West returned to the rubble, again, picking his way through it carefully. White smoke suggested black powder, as in TATP, not TNT or C-4.
Don’t jump to conclusions. But his instincts tingled. TATP was a low-heat bomb and it took more than five hundred grams to do this kind of destruction.
The distinctive bleach-like odor told him his gut was right. TATP didn’t contain nitrogen and made the explosives easier to avoid detection by scanners.
When they found it, the packaging containing the bomb might reveal hard evidence. Tape or wires could also contain scraps of skin cells, sweat or even hairs. If they were lucky, the unsub left some kind of DNA on the fragments.
Was the unsub Demi Colton?
Who did this? Does it have anything to do with the Groom Killer? Upcoming wedding site? Maybe the killer wants to blow up wedding party members in the future?
As he continued to gather evidence, his thoughts flashed back to his family, the ruins of their home, the ruins of his former life. West deliberately thought of Quinn, her sweet smile, saucy attitude. It soothed him as he worked.
Relationships were all about power. He knew this even with Quinn. In bed, he dominated, but out of it, she ran the show. She held his heart and, man, he enjoyed every single moment of it.
Even though they were private about their relationship for now, he preferred to keep it that way. The less interference from her family, the better.
But he couldn’t help but wonder if her half sister was behind this explosion, as preparation for something more deadly to come.
* * *
Working a crime scene was an arduous, grueling task. Shortly before one o’clock, the chief ordered takeout for everyone.
Takeout from Good Eats.
His heart raced as he glanced up and saw Quinn’s white delivery van pull up in front of the tent. She jumped out and opened the back door. Someone hastened to set up another long folding table for the food. As she picked out the aluminum containers, her brother Brayden ran to help.
ATF agent Cal tracked her moves and whistled, making the outline of an hourglass with his hands. “Nice dish.”
West wanted to smack him. Hands off. She’s mine. He only grunted, and at the low sound, Rex growled.
Cal glanced down at the canine. “Easy, boy. I’m not going to take your chow.”
But I’ll take your head if you even try to touch her. West gripped Rex’s leash harder. Hell, it was tough enough concealing the fact he was secretly investigating the RRPD’s efforts to find the Groom Killer. Hiding his relationship with Quinn was agonizing. His instincts were to draw her away from the admiring glances, put an arm around her waist to signal that she was taken. Exclusively. By him.
And he didn’t even dare do more than nod at her when he helped carry a warm container of something that smelled like roasted lamb. Their fingers touched as she handed it to him, and familiar sparks jumped between them. West sucked in a low breath.
Damn, he could smell her amid the chemicals and the dust and the delicious odor of grilled meat. Real meat, too, not that tofu she also served.
His fiancée smelled like apples and spice, everything delicious.
Quinn finished setting up the containers and unpacked the paper plates and plastic silverware.
“All set, Chief,” she told her cousin. “There’s grilled lamb and rice, salad and butternut squash linguine with fried sage.” Quinn tossed West a saucy, knowing look. “For those who prefer froufrou food.”
Damn if it took every inch of his control not to laugh. Not to toss aside his plate of grilled lamb and stride over to her, pull her into his arms and kiss her senseless. Letting everyone know she was his and they belonged to each other. He didn’t need healthy food for fortification. He needed only Quinn, and her vivacious spirit and wholesome smile.
Cal drifted over and thanked her. The ATF agent jerked a thumb at West.
“Don’t mind Grumpy, Miss Colton. West doesn’t like healthy food,” Cal jested. “He’s a red meat man.”
“Takes all types,” Quinn’s brother Brayden remarked.
Ignoring them, West took his plate and a bottle of water to his car and sat on the hood of his truck to eat. He watched Quinn talk with Brayden at the table where most of the others ate. West noted that Finn Colton and Brayden worked closely with the Gages on the squad, despite the famous feud between the Colton and Gage families.
Did Quinn know where her sister was? What if she was hiding Demi? When he’d asked her about how close they’d been, Quinn had only shrugged and said she loved her sister, but they weren’t close and barely knew each other. Demi concentrated on her job as a bounty hunter and Quinn was invested in establishing Good Eats and trying to make a good rep for herself in town.
His radar went on full alert as a sleek, expensive car pulled up to the perimeter. Out from the driver’s seat climbed Devlin Harrington. West looked down at the excellent meal Quinn had prepared. It turned to cardboard in his stomach.
Harrington was a wealthy, entitled lawyer who worked in his father’s energy firm. The man oozed money. Probably used one-hundred-dollar bills as kindling in his fireplace each winter.
His father, billionaire Hamlin Harrington, was equally money hungry. He offered to save Colton Energy from bankruptcy, but only if Layla Colton, a bigwig at Colton Energy and the owner’s daughter, married him. Layla’s father, Fenwick, desperately needed the cash.
And the Red Ridge Police Department needed Fenwick to continue funding the large K-9 unit and training center. But Hamlin had called off the wedding to Layla until the Groom Killer was caught. Fenwick, who doubled as mayor of Red Ridge, was beside himself and breathed down the chief’s neck on a daily basis to solve the case. It didn’t matter that Fenwick was related to Chief Finn Colton. Fenwick needed money.
West understood Hamlin being nervous, canceling the wedding and calling off the engagement to Layla Colton. With a killer out to slay grooms, who would dare host a public wedding in town?
What he didn’t get was marrying for money, not love. He didn’t understand it. His own mother and father had been happily married for more than twenty-four years before a killer snuffed out their lives. He and Quinn wanted to marry because they loved each other, crazy as it seemed after barely meeting a month ago. But he knew Quinn was the right woman for him. She was intelligent and witty and caring, and he’d do anything for her.
Layla, Quinn’s cousin, seemed like a smart, kind woman, concerned about her family and savvy about business when he’d interviewed her about Demi Colton. Was she that dedicated to her family and saving her father’s company that she’d sacrifice her own personal happiness?
Life was short. He’d learned that at seventeen when his world blew apart. And marriage lasted a long time, or at least, it should.
West’s scarred hand felt tight today, as it did each time he worked a crime scene, reminding him of the night his family died in the bomb blast. He flexed it as he watched Harrington approach Chief Colton, wondering what the man wanted.
Wealthy lawyers usually didn’t visit crime scenes. Not unless they were ambulance chasers. He’d bet a case of hundred-year-old brandy that Devlin Harrington had never chased an ambulance in his life. Not with that cash cow of a rich daddy, who probably paid him a salary that made West’s modest income look laughable.
Wearing an expensive gray silk business suit, with a red power tie and starched shirt, and expensive leather footwear, Harrington looked out of place with the cops in their bunny suits, tactical vests and grubby, scuffed shoes.
The lawyer stood by the table where Finn Colton ate. He scrutinized the scene, shook his head. “Chief, this is most upsetting. Now we have a bomber in Red Ridge? I’m sure this is related to the groom killings. If there is anything I can do, any help I can offer, please let me know. I want to help. If you need assistance, I’m here.”
To his credit, Finn didn’t take the bait. “It’s too early in the investigation to tell anything. We’re doing all we can. Every man on this force is dedicated to catching the killer.”
“But you must admit this is terribly suspicious timing.” Harrington swept a hand over the crime scene tape. “If the killer is graduating to bombings, she must be caught. I wanted to let you know I’m offering a $100,000 reward for the capture of Demi Colton.”
West nearly choked on his forkful of rice.
Finn didn’t even blink. “Oh?”
“She must be found and brought in for questioning. If she’s innocent, she’s innocent. But if she’s guilty...” Again with the hand gesture. “Then the killings, and this kind of violence will end.”
Was the guy running for office? West snorted as a newspaper photographer snapped Harrington’s photo. He could envision the headline now: Billionaire Lawyer Offers Six Figures of Own Money for Capture of Suspect Demi Colton.
He hated it when civilians messed with an official investigation. Offering that much money for Demi’s capture would send everyone eager for the reward out searching, giving the department more headaches and more false leads to chase.
And make a desperate Demi harder to catch. Hell, half the town would be searching for her now, eager to claim even a share of the reward.
West knew he had to question Quinn further on her sister. If Quinn even had a remote inkling of where Demi was, he had to know immediately.
“I’d like to see the official ad you’re running in the newspaper,” Finn told him, giving him a level look. “For the record.”
“I’m very busy this afternoon.” Harrington took out his cell phone, texted something. “But I’ll send an Uber to drop off the notice at the station.”
Sending an Uber to deliver a damn paper? Typical Harrington. You can’t take five minutes to stop by on your way? No, that’s too much trouble.
West knew some attorneys back East, hardworking, congenial men and women who dedicated themselves to the law and society. Harrington was not one. He did it for the money.
Harrington flashed those pearly whites at everyone and glad-handed the officers sitting at the table.
“Thank you for all you are doing to catch the Groom Killer. If you need anything, anything at all, my office is at your disposal. We all want Demi Colton caught so life can return to normal. My father will be most grateful when Demi is found and arrested and weddings can resume in Red Ridge. He’s most eager to marry Layla.”
He spotted West sitting by his lonesome, walked over and stuck out a palm. “Agent Brand, so glad to see the FBI is working with our fine force. We certainly can use your services.”
Giving him a cool glance, West nodded and ignored the hand. He picked up his fork and continued eating. Harrington’s smile only got wider.
“Have a good day,” the lawyer told him.
He strode off toward his car. West caught Quinn’s worried gaze. If she was concerned about her sister before, she must be worried sick now. West made a small gesture at Harrington’s car speeding off, then did an eye roll. She flashed a brief smile.
West ate quickly, tossed away the plate and plastic silverware, and then returned to the crime scene. The sooner he finished, the faster they could find who did this, and clues to where the bomber would strike next.
Whether or not it was Demi Colton.
* * *
Two hours later, Quinn unloaded all the catering dishes and brought them inside to her store, placing them on the counter near the sink. With a rueful smile, she noticed her hands were trembling.
West did that to her. Even being within one hundred feet of him set off her female parts. They tingled with anticipation, and her nerves jumped as if the annual Fourth of July fireworks exploded inside her.
Her smile fled as she recalled the extensive damage to the building, and the sneers of her father as he swigged back a bottle of beer and watched the cops work the scene.
Rusty had a habit of making the worst things worse. He liked his beer and criticizing other people and bragged about both.
Like her brothers and Demi, Quinn worked hard to overcome the reputation of being offspring of the town’s notorious bar owner and womanizer. It was why she elected to serve wholesome food at Good Eats, to differentiate from the greasy bar food her father dished out.
She picked up the mail the carrier had dropped through the slot in her front door. As she walked to the counter, Quinn sorted through the stack. Bills. More bills. And a white card-size envelope that resembled an invitation. The envelope had a cute red heart stamped on it.
A wedding invitation?
Maybe an engagement announcement? Who would be crazy enough for that?
Taking the mail into the kitchen, she found a knife and went to open it. Hesitated. It looked innocent. Pretty stationery. What if it wasn’t?
There was no return address. Quinn felt the envelope. She had never been the suspicious type, but dating West turned on all her precaution sensors. No return address could mean something dangerous inside, intended to harm.
Quinn studied the postmark. Red Ridge. From here in town. What if the Groom Killer had decided to reach out to new targets?
What if it was Demi, and she was sending a secret message?
Thoughts tumbled through her head. The possibilities were endless. So was the worry. She set the envelope down. Maybe it was better to wait for West. He had experience, perhaps there was some fancy instrument in his bag of tools he could use to scan the contents.
West had been working too hard lately on this Groom Killer case. Late nights, early mornings. A couple of days off in the mountains sounded perfect.
She went into the tiny cubicle kept as an office and opened the desk drawer to find the key Tia had given her. As a favor for delivering her meals on time every day, Tia Linwicki gave her the code to unlock the front gate and a key to one of the cabins in Pine Paradise, a property she owned. As long as no one rented the cabin, it was Quinn’s to use.
She’d told West about her privileges with the cabin and how Tia entrusted her with the key. It would make a terrific weekend retreat with West. Quinn hunted for the key, but couldn’t find it. Maybe she’d left it upstairs in her apartment. With all the confusion lately, the scrambling to find clients, she felt slightly scatterbrained.
She left the office and went into the store’s front just as her brother Shane entered.
Smiling, she gestured to the counter. “Need an afternoon pick-me-up?”
His nose wrinkled. “Kale shakes and fruit smoothies? No thanks.”
“I can make you a late lunch.” Quinn’s smile widened. “Something that will put hair on your chest. Make you attractive to the ladies.”
He laughed. As if he needed that. With his sandy-blond hair, blue eyes and tall, muscular body, Shane was drop-dead gorgeous. For a while Quinn had envied him. Surely he didn’t get those good looks from their father.
No, Shane had inherited their father’s tough streak, though.
And besides, Shane was hot and heavy with someone, a dog trainer at the K-9 center. It was easy to forget because Shane, like everyone in town, kept their relationships on the down-low.
“Came to see how you are. And maybe if you baked some of those blueberry muffins.”
Food costs had soared, but for her brother, she’d bake another dozen. “Go outside and sit. I’ll get everything ready.”
Humming as she buzzed around the kitchen, Quinn realized how much she enjoyed her job. Working for someone else might pay the bills, but she loved being her own boss. Books rested on a shelf above the stainless steel table where she did food prep. One was only a notebook with her handwriting. Those recipes she’d invented on her own, adding this and mixing that.
She’d hate to have to follow orders from an employer. Red Ridge was a good place to live...well, until lately.
Good place to raise a family. Quinn ground to a halt before reaching for a bottle of water for Shane. She and West had briefly skirted the topic of children.
He didn’t want kids.
She wanted two.
Impasse, for now. Quinn kept reasoning with herself that they could compromise. Maybe he’d change his mind.
She brought a tray with the treats outside and joined her brother. Shane munched on a blueberry muffin made from coconut flour, while she drank her strawberry smoothie. Sunshine still peeked through the puffy white clouds, but indigo dotted the horizon, indicating a summer storm approached. Quinn didn’t mind the rain on hot days like this, except the rain drove away the customers who made impulse purchases of organic snacks and shakes.
“That explosion.” Shane shook his head and took a swig of bottled water. “Damn scary.”
“Do they have any clues?” Despite being on the crime scene and serving lunch, Quinn couldn’t discern any information. But Shane worked as a private investigator and informant for the RRPD, and he was savvy at picking up information on the street.
“Not yet. Everyone’s speculating.”
“Maybe it was some local kids, fooling around.”
“I doubt it.” Shane’s gaze looked troubled. “There’s buzz it might be a test run of something bigger to come.”
“Terrific. I hate this.” She toyed with the straw, glanced up and down the street. “Some days it feels like we’re living in a war zone, not knowing what will happen next, who’s doing all this. My business is going from bad to worse. Summer’s nearly over and what am I going to do when winter comes? This is my busy season.”
Quinn leaned back, trying not to fret. The rent was overdue and she didn’t know how to make her budget. “Maybe I should move to Sioux Falls.”
Shane’s eyes widened. “You? The girl who vowed to stay in Red Ridge, no matter what?”
West’s home was near Sioux Falls. It might be a good place to settle after they married. Or get married there, far away from the dangers of the Groom Killer. Maybe West would change his mind about children if they lived away from Red Ridge.
“Everyone changes. I’m getting older, I could find a good job with another catering company.”
“You can’t. Where would I get my blueberry muffins?”
She rolled her eyes and shook her head as he grinned at her. They’d never been close, barely knew each other growing up, but lately she’d drawn close to her brothers. She wanted to have relationships with them, and since Demi’s disappearance, Quinn realized how precarious and unpredictable life could become.
Her thoughts went to the mysterious envelope in her kitchen. “Have you heard anything more from Demi?”
Shane coughed on his bite of muffin. He swigged more water, avoided her gaze. “Why would I?”
Leveling with him might be best. “I’m really worried about her. She’s all by herself, with a baby...and since she’s on the run, she could be staying in places that aren’t safe.”
“I’m sure she’s fine.” He ate the last of the muffin and wiped his mouth with the linen napkin she’d given him.
Quinn wished she’d been closer with her younger sister. Maybe then Demi would have contacted her, asked for help. And now that she and West were engaged, she wanted to tell someone. Anyone. A sister, who could keep a secret, a sister who would laugh and roll her eyes as Quinn went into poetic professions of how she adored West, what a wonderful, generous man he was, what a cute butt he had...
Speaking of the devil. West’s familiar pickup pulled up on Main Street, parked. He got out, let out Rex and then locked the door.
Shane sniffed. Quinn didn’t care for the sound. It indicated her brother didn’t have a high opinion of the new guy in town.
The new guy who happened to be secretly engaged. To me.
“I like dogs.” Shane’s voice remained level. “Better than cops and better than FBI agents.”
West did a fine job of ignoring them both sitting across the street and staring at him.
“What do you think of him? I mean, he’s an FBI agent, but he seems okay.” She tried to keep the question casual, but couldn’t help peeking at West as he stopped to enter the small boutique where she knew he liked to buy Rex treats.
Shane shrugged. “I try not to think. He’s FBI, and feds aren’t any better than cops.”
“Our brother,” she began.
“Wasn’t talking about family.” Shane’s too-observant gaze sharpened. “You certainly seem interested in Agent Brand.”
Uh-oh. Quinn gave a little laugh. “It’s a small town. New people are always fascinating. And these days, I can’t afford to alienate potential customers.”
“He doesn’t seem like the organic type.”
Oh, I don’t know. He sure did like that farm-raised honey he put on me two nights ago when we...
“You okay? You’re blushing.” Shane finished his water.
Quickly she fanned herself. “Fine. Just hot.”
“It’ll rain soon. Cool things off.”
“I hope it doesn’t destroy the crime scene and the evidence.”
Her brother cocked his head. “Now you’re sounding like a cop. What gives?”
Quinn busied herself with cleaning the table. West’s lingo had filtered into her life. Soon she’d be talking in acronyms like he did. She needed to be more careful.
“Just a concerned citizen who wants things to return to normal, so I can stay in the town I love.”
Shane sighed. “Don’t go making any hasty decisions yet. You need money?”
Deeply touched, she shook her head. “The Larsons gave me an extension.”
Now her brother looked mighty angry. “Those rip-off artists are cons, Quinn. Don’t trust them. Extension today on the rent, double the price tomorrow.”
“I’m fine.” She waved him off. “Go investigate someone else.”
To her surprise, he gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “Thanks. See you.”
Inside the kitchen, she looked at the clean counter, the neatly stacked bowls. A kitchen shouldn’t be this tidy. It meant no business. The lunch for the RRPD would help with the smaller bills. But the rent still remained the huge question mark.
I’ll think about that later.
She picked up the envelope she’d received in the mail today and held it to the light. Nothing. Shook it. No telltale sound of something floating. She wished she’d remembered to show it to Shane. She’d have West check it out tonight.
The back door opened and Austin walked through.
“Where have you been?” she demanded. “I had to set up everything myself at the crime scene for the cops.”
“I went fishing for business. Great news. I found us a gig for tonight. Yoga studio is hosting an open house and they need gluten-free hors d’oeuvres and fruit smoothies for two hundred potential clients. We need to be in Sullivan Falls by nine tonight.”
Delight turned into dismay. “That’s forty miles away!”
“And they promised cash on delivery. So let’s hustle.” He pushed his glasses up his thin nose. “Plus some free lessons. You could use a little flexibility to loosen up.”
Quinn set down the envelope for later, along with the pile of bills. They had work to do, and money was tight.
* * *
It had been a hell of a day and he was exhausted.
Shortly after midnight, West parked his truck in the usual spot, the parking garage one street over from Main, and ducked down a back alley leading to Quinn’s shop. He went through the service entrance, skirting the green Dumpster. Rex, who normally stopped to sniff around the garbage, loped eagerly alongside him and darted inside as he opened the door with his key.
“Yeah, you’re as beat as I am,” West murmured to his dog, bending down and scratching behind his ears after he locked the door. “How about some treats?”
Part of Rex’s training involved food. Rex never ate from a bowl because each time he found explosives while training, West fed him. But he also gave him treats after a long day.
Upstairs, he found the dog biscuits Quinn had hidden in her pantry just for Rex. Leaving Rex to happily munch, he headed into the bedroom.
Sitting at her antique dressing table, Quinn brushed her curls. West felt a tug inside as he watched. He adored the way her mouth softened as she gazed into the mirror, and how it sparked when she caught sight of him.
As if he were the only one in her world who could light her up inside.
Leaning against the doorjamb, he watched her, all the day’s tension sliding off him. “You didn’t have to wait up for me, sweetheart.”
“Are you hungry?”
“Grabbed a sandwich in town.”
Her gaze twinkled. “I like waiting up for you. I like watching you, too. Saw you on Main when I was sitting outside with my brother.”
“You were eyeballing my very fine ass,” he teased.
The ensuing blush assured him she did the very thing. “It’s quite nice to watch. Long day?”
“The worst. But it’s better now that I’m here with you.” His voice went husky. “You make all my troubles go away.”
Except the biggest trouble, and that was finding Demi Colton. Finding the truth about her. Today’s explosion deeply worried him, and not simply because he’d ignored the warning sign this morning.
Explosions like that from TATP bombs indicated professionals. Someone intended to do much, much worse. And there was no way to predict where, and when. If Demi Colton did have a hand in it, he needed to know ASAP if Quinn and her brothers were hiding intel on their runaway sister.
“Can you believe Devlin Harrington is offering a hundred thousand to capture my sister?” she asked.
Careful now. West considered. “He seems all about the money. What’s he really like?”
“Rich. Powerful. Very nice when you meet him. He started dating my cousin Gemma a few months ago. That’s what the gossips say.” Quinn sighed. “I’m not close to Gemma. Unlike me, she’s from the right side of the tracks.”
“And you think you’re from the wrong side? I don’t think so.”
Quinn gave him a wry smile. “Being the daughter of Rusty Colton carries a certain stigma in this town, West. Especially with the rich branches of the Colton family like Gemma’s.”
“Maybe, but not from what I’ve seen. People respect you for who you are, honey. And your excellent cooking, even if you make tofu,” he teased back.
He strode behind her and gently took the brush from her hands. West began to brush her hair as she smiled at him in the mirror.
West scanned the items on the table’s polished surface, fishing for an opening to bring up her sister.
“Did Demi ever brush your hair when you were kids?”
Ever so slightly, she stiffened. “We didn’t live together. And my mom and hers didn’t exactly get along.”
He kept brushing, while racking his brain for a way to bring up her sister again. But for now, it felt wonderful to be with her, to ease the pressure of the job with the simple enjoyment of Quinn’s company.
West wished the job and his personal life didn’t have to collide.
Her eyes closed and she made a sound of pure pleasure. “That feels so good. You’re a good man with your hands, West Brand.”
A faint memory tugged at him. Once the grief had been a sharp blade, but now it had eased into a painful ache. “My sisters used to beg me to brush their hair at night. It was one of my chores. I’d sit down with them, listen to their day, brush their hair and then our parents would tuck them into bed.”
Quinn’s eyes met his in the mirror. “You don’t talk much about your family, honey. All I know is that they were killed in an accident. I don’t want to pressure you, but I’d like to know more about your childhood.”
“I’ll tell you. Some day.” A vague promise. He would. It was still too raw, even after all these years, because the sting of guilt was a constant barb, waiting to rip open old wounds once more.
But he’d give her an opening, because maybe in talking about his sisters, she would open up about Demi. And the sooner they found Demi and the Groom Killer, the sooner he could really open up to Quinn.
“We used to go camping in the Black Hills. Dad didn’t have much of a chance to take us, because he was always working, but when he did, it was wonderful. Sometimes we’d stay at cabins in the canyon instead of tent camping, when Mom decided camping was a little too rustic and she needed a real vacation from roughing it. She wanted us to experience nature and the great outdoors, but working plumbing was a terrific invention.”
Quinn smiled softly. “Your mother sounds like she was a special lady.”
The ache in his chest flowered, hit like a hammer. West took a deep breath. Focus on the job and Quinn. “Did you ever go camping with your family?”
“There was a cabin I rented in Spearfish Canyon last year when I needed to get away from work.” Quinn frowned, as if trying to remember. “Lovely place. It was called Pine Paradise. It was the most peaceful, serene spot I’d ever visited.”
She turned her head and he stopped brushing. “You know that feeling, where you’re outside in nature, the birds chirping, the wind blowing through the trees and you feel like you’re the only soul in the world?”
“Yes,” he said quietly. “I know it.”
Places like that kept him sane when the job grew too intense and the evil he’d witnessed threatened to erode his soul.
“It was a good place to get away from the pressures of the city. I invited Demi to stay with me. I was trying to get to know her better. She always loved the outdoors and I thought it was a good place to bond with her.”
“Do you think she would ever return there? Did she enjoy it?”
“I have no clue,” she muttered. “She didn’t stay long.”
“That’s too bad.”
Quinn sighed. “She was in a hurry to leave, as usual. Loaned me her leather motorcycle jacket. It’s still in the closet. I keep meaning to return it, but hoped she would stop by. That was long before everything went down with the Groom Killer.”
He stopped brushing her hair, took a curl between his fingers and pulled it down slightly. West watched it uncoil and spring back up. Then he went into her closet, sorted through the clothing and found the jacket. Leather motorcycle jacket, with a broken zipper. He whistled.
“Nice.” West replaced it in the closet, returned to her. “I have a much better way of keeping you warm. You and me at Pine Paradise. A few days hiking, trout fishing.”
Quinn smiled, her earlier displeasure gone. “Fishing? And I’d cook the fish.”
“All organic,” he teased.
She caught his right hand, kissed his palm, her mouth moving over the old scar tissue. Quinn rubbed her cheek against it. “You never did tell me about how you got this. Was it on a field assignment?”
“It was a long time ago. I’ll tell you, someday.”
West thought about her sister. Relationships that failed, bonds never formed. At least he’d shared that with his sisters, much as he missed them.
Memories helped ease the grief on days when it hurt.
“I always longed for a brother. Do guy stuff with, like camping, football, basketball, but my sisters were...special to me. I never regretted any of the time I spent with them. They could be pests, like little sisters are, but they were great kids.”
He paused in brushing her hair, the acid creeping up his throat. His sisters deserved a chance to live, a chance to have boyfriends, share a first kiss, marriage, babies. They never had it.
“I love children.” Her gaze met his in the mirror. “I want a family, West.”
Damn. Let’s not go there tonight. West’s circle was tight and small. He thought of it as he thought of investigating crime scenes. Work it from the perimeter out. On the outer fringes were coworkers and casual acquaintances. On the inside were those close to him.
There weren’t many of those relationships. He kept it that way.
Once, it had been expanded to include his family, a flock of friends and relatives. After the bomb, he shut down most of those relationships.
Kids meant having innocent, fragile babies who couldn’t defend themselves. What if he failed to keep them safe, the way his own father had failed his daughters?
Including Quinn in his circle? Yeah. Kids? No.
“I don’t want children.” There. He stated it. Would this provoke a fight? But Quinn only looked away, her mouth tight.
“It’s late. Let’s discuss this later,” he told her. As in ten years. Or twenty.
“I would have loved having a little sister when I grew up. I always wanted to have a close relationship with Demi.” Quinn sighed.
Okay, let’s try for subtle. He placed the brush on the table.
“When you last saw your sister, did she have a gold compact? Heart-shaped?”
Yeah, subtle, alight, Brand. Subtle as a locomotive.
Quinn picked up the brush he’d set down and began to toy with it. “Funny you should mention it. A few years ago, when I met her for lunch, I brought her a gift like that. I saw them in a store in Sioux Falls and bought two.”
West’s heart skipped a beat. He jammed his hands into the pockets of his Dockers.
“Does she still have it?”
She leaned her elbows on the table and looked at him in the mirror. “Why are you asking about the compact? And Demi? Does this have to do with her disappearance?”
West knew he had to tread lightly. Offer information, but no details. “Maybe. It could be a clue to where she went.”
“I don’t know. I wasn’t in the habit of checking her purse.” Quinn’s voice was sharp.
He pressed on, because he suspected the gold compact now was definitely a sign that Demi had been in the abandoned building. Maybe she’d dropped it while mixing the chemicals to blow up the place, cover her tracks before she went to her next destination.
“What does your compact look like? Was it like hers?”
Her full mouth flattened. “West, why all these questions?”
He squatted down by the table and took her hand into his, brushing a kiss against her knuckles. “We need to find her, Quinn. But I promise you this, when we find her, I will let you know.”
She blinked rapidly, moisture filling her lovely brown eyes. “I wish we had been closer. I really do. I’m so worried about her.”
He held her tight, stroking her back in circles. West hated seeing her this upset. Hated that he was the one making her cry, because he had to ask all these questions. It was his job, and he had no choice.
Not that he could tell her that.
“What does your compact look like? If it’s like hers, I might be able to track her down.” He wiped away a stray tear. “Don’t tell your brothers. This is something I’m working on my own.”
“To find Demi?”
At his nod, she swiped a hand over her eyes. He didn’t like the frown denting her brows, and the suspicious look she gave him. “Not because she’s my sister and you know how worried I am about her. Because she’s a suspect.”
He blew out a breath. “She is a suspect, Quinn. The sooner we can find, and question her...”
“The sooner you can arrest her.”
West clenched his hands. “The sooner she’ll be safe. Now, will you help me?”
Quinn bit her lower lip. “All right. I’ll tell you whatever you need to know, as long as it will help Demi.”
“Is your gold compact like hers?”
“Not exactly.” She frowned, and toyed with the brush again. “Actually, now I remember. Hers wasn’t gold. It was silver, with her initials on it. And round. I got a round one for her to engrave her initials on it.”
Damn.
“Mine was heart shaped.”
West went still. A chill raced down his spine. “What exactly does it look like?”
His heart dropped to his already-churning stomach at her next words.
“It’s gold. With a butterfly emblem on the front.”