Chapter 2
Sheriff Callum Colton cruised to a stop amid the collection of other emergency vehicles responding to the report of a death at the first stop along the Enchanted Highway.
He climbed out of his patrol car, calling to the cluster of civilians crowded around to gawk, “Stand back, please. This area is now a crime scene and closed to the public. Please clear the area.”
As he approached the scene, he found the first deputy on the scene had pulled aside a few individuals who stood apart from the rest of the crowd.
Two young children clung to a woman with a sour expression, while the deputy spoke to a man, whose voice was raised and who was gesturing wildly.
A second, much younger and extremely attractive woman stood nearby watching the proceedings with a scowl.
Callum suppressed a sympathetic and situationally inappropriate smile.
He’d be scowling, too, if he’d had to start his day being questioned about the discovery of a dead man and listening to the portly man rant.
Oh, wait…that was how he was about to start his day. Cal sighed and thought despondently, Yay.
He touched the brim of his campaign hat as he joined the deputy and nodded a perfunctory greeting to the witnesses being questioned.
His gaze lingered a second too long on the attractive twentysomething brunette.
His pulse gave a kick when she lifted her eyebrows slightly, a telltale sign of interest, and gave him reciprocal up-and-down scrutiny.
But her scowl returned quickly as she moved her gaze away and folded her arms over her chest.
“Is this going to take long? I have to get back to the gift shop. I’m the only one working the store, and this is our busiest time,” the brunette asked, her green eyes flashing with impatience.
Cal cocked his head and rubbed his chin as he studied her. “Ma’am, you do understand the nature of our business with you? A dead man takes precedence over gift shop trinkets.”
She arched one eyebrow sassily as she met his gaze and chirped, “You think? I would have never guessed. Thank you for educating me, Deputy.”
Cal tapped the star in his chest. “Sheriff. Sheriff Callum Colton.” Then, because he couldn’t resist, he quipped, “And you’re welcome. Glad to help, Ms… .”
He drew out the courtesy title, inviting her to introduce herself.
She rolled her eyes. Sighed. “Jules Bailey. I’m the manager at the gift shop.” She aimed her thumb over her shoulder to the drab, one-story building a few hundred feet down the highway.
Cal pulled a pen from his breast pocket and a notepad from the back pocket of his uniform pants. “Perfect,” he said. “I was going to have to speak to you soon to get the security camera footage for the past twenty-four hours.”
She shook her head, her mouth twisting in scorn.
“No cameras. The owner said he didn’t see a need, because he’s never had a problem since the store opened in the—” she hesitated, flipping a hand in frustration “—Neolithic era or something.” In a quieter voice, she added, “And doesn’t that just make me feel so safe when I close alone at night? ”
Cal grunted his own discontent over the lack of cameras.
Not just because he didn’t have that source of evidence, but because he didn’t like the idea of Jules Bailey, or any woman, working alone at night without any security measures in place.
He made a mental note to look up the owner of the gift shop and recommend changes.
Hearing another vehicle arrive, Cal turned to see not only the coroner’s van, but also the Stark County Sheriff Department’s lead forensics guy. He walked over to greet the arriving team and huddle with them around the corpse for the initial assessment of the scene.
“Any sign of foul play or are we looking at a junkie overdose?” Ronnie Goldman, the forensics officer, asked.
“Aren’t I supposed to ask you that question?” Cal said with a grin, shaking the man’s hand.
“I suppose. Just thought you might have made an initial assessment.” Goldman squinted at the body, giving the corpse careful scrutiny.
“Just arrived a moment ago myself. This is my first up-close look,” Cal replied.
He moved so that the rising sun wasn’t in his eyes and studied the position of the body, checking for signs of foul play.
“Plenty of scar tissue and old needle marks on his arm. That supports the idea he was shooting up with something.”
Goldman aimed his finger at a tiny pinprick of red on the pale arm. “This one is recent. He injected something last night. Although…the bruising around the injection site shows internal bleeding. It wasn’t a clean or careful prick.”
“So he was already high when he shot up the last time? An unsteady hand?” one of the responding deputies, rookie Ben Holder, asked.
A rumble of discontent rolled from the coroner’s throat.
“Mike? You have thoughts?” Cal asked.
Mike Palmer, the coroner leaned in and waggled a finger near the dead man’s arm. “Look there. That pattern of bruising. Like a real tight five-finger grip near his wrist.”
Cal nodded. “I’ve seen that sort of bruising before on domestic violence calls.” He took a step back to view the body from another angle. “Do you see other signs of violence or rough treatment?”
Goldman used a clean tongue depressor to part the dead man’s hair near the ground. “We have some bleeding back here. He didn’t lie down gently and drift to sleep. He hit the pavement hard enough to crack his noggin.”
Cal straightened. “Okay, I’ve seen enough to work under the assumption this man had help getting to this condition.” Looking to the coroner and forensics officer, he added, “I’ll let you two get to work. Send me a full report on what you find, ASAP?”
“Naturally,” Goldman said. “And I’ll brief your brother, as well. If drugs are involved, as we all seem to suspect, Detective Colton’s drug task force is going to want in on this.”
Cal turned up a palm. “If drugs prove to be involved, I’m more than happy to let Wyatt take the lead on the investigation. But I still want to stay apprised of developments in the case. The body was found in my jurisdiction, after all.”
He pulled aside his deputy, asking the new recruit for a quick rundown of what Ben had learned so far in his interviews.
Not much, as it turned out. The couple Ben had been questioning had discovered the body but seemed to believe they had better things to do with their vacation time than talk to law enforcement.
The gift shop manager had been the one to call the authorities on the store’s landline.
“Okay, finish questioning the couple. Be sure to ask if anything about the scene has been touched or changed, and get all the details on where to reach the family later if more questions arise.”
“Yes, sir.” Ben squared his shoulders as if bracing for battle as he returned to finish interviewing the querulous couple.
Giving his pen a few clicks, Cal returned to the spot where Jules Bailey waited, her arms folded over her chest. “If you’d rather, we can have our conversation inside the store,” he offered.
“What if I’d rather not have a conversation at all?” she asked, one eyebrow hiked over those mesmerizing green eyes.
“I’m afraid that’s not an option. You have information I need in order to figure out what happened here last night.”
“You make it sound like you think I did something wrong,” she said, dropping her hands to her sides and balling her hands into fists.
“Did you?” he asked, more to needle her and see her cheeks flame than because he believed she had.
She frowned in consternation. “No.”
He grinned. “Good. Then you don’t have anything to worry about. Shall we?” He waved a hand toward the gift shop and started in that direction.
She hesitated but finally fell in step behind him. As they neared the gift shop, she paused, and he shifted his gaze to see what had held her up.
Her attention was focused on something at the back of the shop.
“Problem?” he asked, moving closer to her to have a better angle to see what held her attention.
“I need a minute. Wait here.” She held up a hand, directing him to stay put, the way he directed his search-and-rescue cadaver dog, Pilot.
He gave a low chuckle. “And let you escape or destroy evidence?”
She snapped a startled look over her shoulder. “What? I’m not—”
“Just the same, I’m coming with you. What’s caught your attention back there?” He waved his pen toward the dirt lot and low scrub brush behind the store.
“Well, I guess you’ll see, if you insist on coming. But stay back, and be quiet! No sudden moves.”
He grinned to himself, rather liking the fact Jules had the temerity to order him around, seemingly unphased by his authority as sheriff. She had gumption.
He unsnapped the top strap over his service weapon and rested a hand on it, prepared for whatever—or whomever—might be behind the gift shop. What he found was not even in the top ten of what he’d expected.
Jules crept quietly up behind a black cat near the back door.
The feline was eating something voraciously despite having the handle hole of a plastic bag stuck around its neck.
As she neared the cat, it heard her and spooked.
With a hiss, the cat tried to run, but Jules lunged for it and grabbed the animal’s scruff.
Irate at being held, the small cat growled, spit and thrashed.
“Easy, baby,” Jules cooed as she dodged flailing paws and slashing claws. “I just have to— Ow!”
He moved forward, his hands spread. “Can I help?”
She didn’t answer. Instead, she continued crooning gentle words in a kind voice, until she managed to remove the tangled grocery sack. She bent to release the cat, but the ungrateful feline chose to push off and leap away, leaving long scratches on her wrist.
Jules hissed in pain and clamped her opposite hand over the injured wrist. “Son of a biscuit!”
“More likely the son of a cougar or panther based on its temperament,” he teased as he reached for her arm. “May I have a look?”
“I’m fine,” she insisted, pulling away.