17. Colt
17
COLT
I leaned back in my chair, kicking my feet up on the porch railing and watching the sun sink lower in the sky. It hovered now at that point where it almost seemed like the globe of light would slip beneath the forests and then pop back up again to give us one last light show. The movement painted the small lake below in a riot of colors.
Taking it all in had Ridley’s words about searching for the sun playing in my mind. She wasn’t wrong; each way you turned, there was a new unique beauty to be found. It was one of the reasons I’d bought the place. The single slice of private land in the midst of a national forest. The beauty and the solitude. I just occasionally forgot to appreciate it all.
I took a sip of my whiskey. That first taste slid down my throat, warming me from the inside out. I’d need it in a minute. Because the sun finally slipped beneath the horizon for good, which meant cold could come on quick, even as we headed into summer.
Bowser’s head lifted from his paws, ears twitching. He might’ve been into his senior years, but his hearing was still just as good as when he was a pup. I followed his gaze, wondering if he’d heard a critter, but then I heard it: the crunch of wheels on gravel.
I couldn’t help the scowl that twisted my mouth. The people who could find their way up here were few and far between, and I wasn’t in the mood to see any of them. I was stewing. Maybe even pouting, if I was honest.
It had been a week since I’d tried to make things right with Ridley. I’d see her around town, talking to locals, doing interviews. If we were ever in close proximity, she’d give me a polite hello that I’d return.
I fucking hated it.
I missed her sass and fire. I missed her giving me shit and seeing those blue eyes alight with silver flames. And then guilt would sweep in for feeling that at all. Because she was digging up things that meant possible pain for my sister.
Lifting the glass, I took another pull of the whiskey. The heat didn’t hit quite the same this time.
A door slammed, and moments later, I heard footsteps. It wasn’t long before they hit the steps to my back deck.
“Jesus. Sitting out here in the dark, drinking?” Trey asked.
Bowser struggled to his feet and crossed over to him in search of pets.
“It’s peaceful,” I defended.
“It’s sulking,” he shot back, giving Bowser a scratch behind the ears.
I didn’t answer because he wasn’t wrong. I just stared out at the darkening lake. It wouldn’t take long for the stars to come out, to see what Constellation Lake was named for.
Trey crossed to the chair on my right, lowering himself into it. Bowser simply dropped his head onto Trey’s knee so that he could resume the scratches. “You pissed I laid it out for you?” Trey asked, looking out at the darkening horizon.
My gaze flicked to him. “Don’t be an idiot.”
He glanced in my direction. “What the hell am I supposed to think? You basically disappeared this week. Haven’t come into the bar, haven’t seen you around town.”
I shifted in my chair, that familiar shadow of guilt sliding over me. “It’s not you.”
“It’s not you; it’s me? That’s what we’re doing?” Trey asked, amusement lacing his tone as he studied me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw when the grin hit his face. “You’re avoiding Ridley.”
I stiffened, my fingers tightening around my glass. “I’m not avoiding anyone.”
Jesus, I was a shit liar.
“The apology went that badly, huh?”
“It went fine,” I gritted out.
Trey chuckled. “Sure sounds like it.”
“It did.” I couldn’t help the defensiveness that slid into my tone. “I just—I don’t know what to do about her now.”
“You could always ask her to dinner. That’s what I usually do when there’s a woman I’m interested in.”
“I’m not interested in her,” I spat.
This time Trey roared with laughter. “I’ve seen you two together exactly once and that I-hate-you-so-bad-I-want-to-tear-your-clothes-off vibe was so strong I’m pretty sure the whole bar could see it.”
Just Trey’s words had images flying through my head that I had no business thinking. My fingers locking on a strap of one of Ridley’s damned workout tanks and tugging it down. My hand slipping beneath the band of those tiny spandex shorts.
Fuck.
I shifted, kicking my legs off their post. “Doesn’t matter. That’s one place I can’t go.”
I felt Trey’s gaze burning a hole in the side of my face. “Why the hell not?”
“Conflict of interest,” I muttered.
“Just because she’s looking into Emmie’s case doesn’t make her the enemy.”
“Doesn’t it?” I asked.
Trey glared at me. “You look into it every year. In fact, now’s about the time you start. I know because you get extra surly. And I understand it. But what I don’t understand is what makes you two different.”
“She’s putting it out there for the whole world to consume. Em’s pain, her story.”
“She’s putting it out there so that we can hopefully find new information.” Trey leaned forward, dislodging Bowser from his knee. “Can you honestly tell me that your yearly rehash is helping?”
His words sliced, but I knew Trey didn’t mean for them to. It was just that he was right. I hadn’t made a single bit of progress. I’d started over on the search parameters after Ridley shared with Emerson that she’d found twenty-three similar crimes. But I’d only found one in a three-hundred-mile radius that had enough similarities to link it. I wanted to see her notes, how she’d made the connections.
Instead of asking, I listened to the two episodes that had gone up on her podcast channel. The first one had been solely background information, the kind you could gather from reading the news coverage at the time. The second had outlined the suspects the police had circled. She had clips from Grady, Coach Kerr’s wife, and Emerson’s math teacher.
And I had to give it to her. She handled them all with care, not pointing the finger at a single one. She had this sort of justice scale to her coverage. For every point leading to the suspect’s guilt, she countered with one of innocence. And she also talked about how the crime had marked them all. There was an empathy to her episodes that was surprising. She didn’t sensationalize the way I’d expected would be necessary for the kind of following she had.
Even through the speaker on my damn phone, I could feel how much Ridley cared. And that just made me more of a bastard for what I’d put her through.
“I need her notes,” I admitted.
Trey stared at me for a long moment. “Have you tried, oh, I don’t know… asking ?”
I scowled at the water below.
“That’s what I thought.”
A ring cut through the night air, saving me from more of Trey’s accusations. I reached for my cell, groaning as I saw the station’s number on my screen. We didn’t have a huge roster of officers and support staff, just enough to keep the small county humming along. But when there was an issue, I was always the one who got the call. Didn’t matter that I’d just worked a full shift; it was what I’d signed up for.
I hit the accept button and put the phone to my ear. “Brooks.”
“Evening, Sheriff,” Dina, one of our night shift dispatchers, greeted. “Sorry to interrupt your evening, but we had a little incident at the station.”
I pushed up out of my chair. “What kind of incident?” I was already moving for the back door.
“Someone broke into the secondary evidence locker. The one for cold storage. Deputy Dawson interrupted them, but they clocked him good. EMTs are with him now.”
I let out a stream of curses as I grabbed my badge and service weapon. “I’m on my way.”
“What’s going on?” Trey asked, on his feet by the time I made it back outside.
“Break-in at the station. Can you get Bowser inside and settled?” I asked.
Trey had keys to my place, and if Bowser would listen to anyone, it was him.
“You got it,” he agreed quickly. “Hope everything’s okay.”
I jerked my head in a nod and headed for my SUV. Beeping the locks, I climbed in and started for town. The only downside of where I lived was how long it took me to get anywhere. A good twenty minutes on a normal day, thirty-plus when there was snow. But tonight, I made it in fifteen.
The lights from the ambulance illuminated the station’s parking lot in a staccato swirl. I pulled into my parking spot and jumped out of my vehicle, heading straight for the gurney. The back was raised, and I could see Dawson arguing with Gene, an EMT in his midfifties.
“I don’t need to go to the hospital,” Dawson protested.
Gene simply pinned him with a stare. “You were unconscious for at least thirty minutes. That means hospital and an MRI.”
Dawson scowled at him. “I’ve got a bump on the head. That’s all.”
“We don’t take chances with bullet wounds or head injuries,” I said as I strode over.
“Sheriff,” Dawson said, his cheeks reddening. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t even see the guy coming.”
“No apologies needed. Just tell me what happened.”
Dawson nodded then winced, clear evidence he did, in fact, need to go to the hospital. “I’d just gotten on shift. It was slow, so I wanted to pull the files for the Martinez case. That’s the cold one I’m on.”
I nodded. Each deputy was assigned a cold case to go over and investigate. It helped teach them investigative skills, and there were times when they turned up new evidence that helped bring the perpetrators to justice.
“I went back there, and everything looked normal,” Dawson went on.
“The door was closed and locked?” I asked.
He frowned. “I think so. I mean, I know it was shut, but I didn’t test the lock. I just input my code like normal and then opened it.”
I’d need to have our evidence techs test for tampering. “Then what happened?”
Dawson swallowed, his throat working with the action. “I went back into the stacks, and I heard someone. I didn’t think anything of it. Just called out that I was in there, so I didn’t freak anyone out. That place can be creepy as hell.”
I wanted to smile because I agreed. It wasn’t frequented by officers, and it could be a dusty, cavernous space. “Did they answer?” I asked.
Dawson shook his head. “Not a word. Everything went quiet. Seemed off, so I started searching row by row. When I rounded one of the shelving units, someone clocked me. I didn’t even see them.”
Gene moved in, gesturing to the side of Dawson’s head. “He’s got a decent gash here that’ll probably need stitches. I’d guess he got hit with something substantial. Maybe a Maglite or something similar.”
“Go get that injury checked out,” I ordered.
“Sheriff—” Dawson started.
“No arguments,” I said, pinning him with a hard stare. “You’re not back on the job without medical clearance.”
Dawson slumped against the gurney.
“Thanks, Colt,” Gene said, lips twitching. “He sure as hell wasn’t going to listen to me.”
I gave them both a wave as I started into the station. That was youth for you. Thinking they were invincible until the world proved otherwise. An officer at the front desk was on the phone but pointed me toward the back hall.
The station had been added on to over the years, so it had a mazelike feel. The two doors that led off the reception area didn’t have locks, but there was always someone manning the desk. If they went on break, they had to get a replacement. So in theory no one should’ve gotten past this area.
I pushed open the door to the right of the desk and headed toward the sound of voices. The hallway had a few windows, but they didn’t open. The only other point of entry was a fire door that would’ve set off a deafening alarm.
As I reached the door to the cold storage area, I found our two evidence techs already at work. I shouldn’t have been surprised since my second-in-command was already at the helm. She glanced up at me from where she was crouched next to our tech expert. “Colt.”
“What do we have?”
She pushed to her feet, stretching up to her full height, which was all of five foot two. But if there was one thing Sophie Ryan didn’t let get in her way, it was her height. I’d seen her put men three times her size down before I could blink.
“As far as Hamm can tell, the break-in happened here.” Ryan gestured to the fire door. “They had some sort of tech that took the fire alarm offline. Then they used an alarm breaker to access the evidence locker.”
“What about the cameras outside?” I knew we had at least two angles on this back door just in case.
Ryan shook her head, frustration making a home in her expression. “Spray paint. Whoever broke in approached each camera from the side and covered the lens with black paint.”
I cursed. None of this fit. High-tech crimes weren’t a staple in Shady Cove. I couldn’t think of a single incident where things like alarm breakers had been used. And for what?
“Can you tell what cases were accessed?” I asked.
Ryan was quiet for a moment, her green eyes going blank. “I’ll show you.”
Her lack of reaction had me on high alert as I followed her into the evidence locker. We were careful to avoid areas where techs were working, but it didn’t take long to find the spot that had been targeted. Files had been upended and tagged evidence bags spilled out onto the floor.
My gut twisted. All of these cases would be impacted now. Possibly every case in this lockup. Because a defense attorney would argue that an intruder had had access to the area. And they’d be right.
My back teeth ground together as I took in the items sprawled out over the linoleum. Then I froze. There were files from a suspicious overdose. More from a hit-and-run. But in the center of it all were the files from Emerson’s case.
All the details about her abduction were spilled out over the floor like trash. Fury lit in my veins. I knew one person who desperately wanted access to those files. I also knew that two days ago, a deputy had given her a heavily redacted copy of them.
But maybe that wasn’t enough for Ridley. She was like a dog with a bone when it came to the truth. So maybe she’d decided to find a way to get those original files, whatever it took.
But now she’d hurt someone in the process.