Chapter Nine
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The smell of coffee filled Lauren’s kitchen, rich and strong, but it wasn’t doing diddly squat to clear Jesse’s head. Maybe because sleep had been damn near impossible last night.
He’d spent the night in her guestroom, doors down from her, too far and not far enough at the same time. Every time he closed his eyes, his mind had gone back to that kiss. The taste of her, the feel of her body against his, the way she’d melted into him for those few perfect seconds.
Now, in the soft morning light filtering through her kitchen window, he was wishing he’d…well, he was wishing they had already been lovers. That there was no “newness” of a relationship between them. Then, he could have spent the night in her bed.
Yeah, that was dick talking, and he knew his dick rarely reacted on logic. Still, he would have liked to be with her for the night. Maybe then, they both might have gotten some sleep. Because it was obvious to him that Lauren had had just as much of a restless time as he had.
The fatigue was in her eyes as she wrapped her hand around her coffee mug, taking slow but much needed sips. Even with the fatigue and the basic work clothes—dark pants and shirt—she still managed to look, well, like the hot brainy woman that she was.
“Thanks for staying,” she said.
Jesse lifted his own mug. “Yeah, well, after last night, I wasn’t about to leave you alone.”
She gave him a look over the rim of her cup. A look that sent heat sliding down his spine. She opened her mouth to say something, but before she spoke, his phone buzzed with a text. Since it wasn’t even seven AM yet, he figured this had to be news about the investigation.
Jesse exhaled, setting his mug down to check the message. From Griff. As soon as he read it, his blood ran cold.
“The ME sent over new info,” Jesse relayed to her. “Nicky had a fresh tattoo on her arm. Same as Abilene’s. Same as yours.”
Lauren groaned, set her coffee aside and dropped down onto the island stool next to him. “So, another victim. One who obviously didn’t get away. And we still don’t know how Nicky ties into any of this.”
He watched as Lauren closed her eyes, her expression drawn and pale.
Jesse knew that look. She was trying to make sense of the chaos, searching for a connection that might not exist. Abilene had been obsessed with Lauren’s case.
Nicky had been missing for days, and now she was dead in the trunk of Abilene’s car.
The past was closing in on Lauren, suffocating her.
Without thinking, Jesse reached over, threading his fingers through hers and giving her hand a reassuring squeeze.
“We’ll figure this out,” he said, his voice steady even as unease settled deep in his gut.
Lauren opened her eyes, meeting his gaze. “We better,” she murmured. “Before someone else ends up dead.”
True. And he sure as hell didn’t want that someone to be Lauren. So, Jesse tried to make the pieces fit.
“Abilene might have done a copycat crime and abducted Nicky,” he spelled out. “Why, we don’t know, but let’s assume she became so obsessed with the case that she wanted to play it out for herself.”
Even to his own ears that sounded like a weak motive, but perhaps digging deeper into Abilene’s background could fill in some blanks.
“Maybe Abilene was unstable,” Jesse tried again. “Maybe she even had some kind of grudge against Nicky and decided this was the way to punish her.”
All right, that was a little better to his cop’s ear, and it gave them a jumping off point. They needed to look harder until they found the pieces to help them make sense of this.
“Abilene could have done all of that to Nicky,” Lauren admitted.
“She could have set up that whole scene in the shop and then stuffed Nicky into the trunk of her car. Heck, she could have even tatted and drugged herself so she’d look like a victim instead of the abductor.
She might have even ended her life when she realized what she’d done. ”
She paused, looked him straight in the eyes, and Jesse knew what Lauren was about to say.
“Abilene couldn’t have been the one who tried to kill us last night,” she finished. “Because she was already dead.”
Yeah, Jesse had already gone there over and over. In fact, it was one of the things that had kept him awake.
“Maybe Abilene had an accomplice,” he said, and that was the only reasonable explanation he could come up with if Abilene was actually the abductor.
His phone sounded again with a text. Not from Griff this time but rather from Hallie.
“Dr. Graves will be in at eight with his lawyer for his interview,” he let Lauren know. “Isabel Markham just arrived. She says she’s early but couldn’t sleep. Says she’ll only talk to Lauren and you.”
Lauren was already getting to her feet before Jesse even finished. He got up, too, downing the rest of his coffee and taking out his truck keys. Once she had disengaged the security, they were out the door.
Jesse’s first instinct was to scan the area, making sure they weren’t walking into another ambush.
The street was quiet, empty except for Elsie Peters, the retired librarian, puttering around her front yard in a nightgown and flip-flops.
She was watering her flowers with a garden hose, but when she spotted them, she paused, grinned, and gave a knowing little wave.
Yeah, he knew that look. The one that said she was convinced he and Lauren had spent the night tangled up in bed instead of just under the same roof.
Great. Just what they needed. Outlaw Ridge’s rumor mill working overtime. Still, that might be better than talk about poor, pitiful Lauren having her past dredged up.
The drive to the station was quiet, tension thick in the air between them. Jesse kept his grip tight on the wheel, his pulse hammering. Another dead woman, another matching tattoo. If Nicky and Abilene had both been branded like Lauren, what the hell did that mean?
That question joined the parade of others going through his head as he pulled into the lot of the police station and got out.
Jesse held the door open for Lauren as they stepped into the building.
The familiar hum of activity surrounded them—phones ringing, officers typing up reports—but his focus zeroed in on Hallie, visible through the glass wall of her office, phone pressed to her ear.
Her expression was tight, her gaze flicking occasionally toward Lauren’s office.
That’s when Jesse saw her. Isabel Markham.
Perched on the edge of a chair in Lauren’s office, Isabel looked like she’d stepped out of a high-end fashion magazine.
Her blonde hair was sleek and perfectly styled, makeup flawless, and her clothes, designer, from head to toe.
No smudged mascara, no red-rimmed eyes. Just calm, collected composure.
Jesse frowned. Most people would still be reeling from the loss of a family member, especially one found murdered in such a brutal way. But Isabel? She was the picture of control.
Lauren must have picked up on it too, because she shot him a look, one eyebrow arching slightly.
He leaned in, lowering his voice. “Not exactly a picture of a grieving stepsister, is she?”
“No, she’s not,” Lauren softly agreed. “Let’s find out what she knows.”
Together, they crossed the bullpen, Jesse’s boots echoing softly against the linoleum. As they entered the office, Isabel looked up, her smile polite but cool.
“Deputies,” she greeted, her voice smooth as silk. “Thank you for meeting with me.”
Jesse studied her, trying to gauge what lay beneath that polished exterior. “Of course. We’re hoping you can help us understand what happened to Abilene.”
Isabel’s smile didn’t falter. “I’ll tell you everything I know.”
But something told him that it might not be much. Or worse, she might tell then only what she wanted them to hear and nothing more.
Jesse settled into the chair across from Isabel, watching as she crossed her legs with precise elegance. Lauren remained standing, arms folded, her expression unreadable.
“I’d prefer this conversation to remain private,” Isabel said smoothly as she reached over and gave the door a nudge to shut it “And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t visit my home again.”
Jesse exchanged a glance with Lauren. They hadn’t been the ones to visit her home—Austin PD had, after she refused to answer her phone. But instead of pointing that out, he let her talk.
She exhaled sharply, her lips pressing together before she continued. “That officer showing up at my house last night was unnecessary. It upset my household.”
“Household?” Jesse questioned.
“My staff. My housekeeper and assistant,” she clarified, brushing an invisible piece of lint from her designer slacks. “They’re not used to police visits, and I’d like to keep it that way.”
Jesse leaned back, stretching out his legs. “You seem pretty concerned about your reputation.”
Isabel gave him a sharp look. “That’s how I was raised, Deputy McCain. My mother is very particular about image. My father didn’t make that easy for her, what with their divorce and his remarrying several times. She works very hard not to allow him to overshadow her name and mine.”
Jesse nodded slowly. He’d dealt with families like hers before. Old money, strict expectations, the kind that cared more about appearances than the people under their roof.
“Let me guess,” Lauren said. “Even your late husband was your mother’s choice?”
Isabel’s lips pursed. “Harrison was…approved of,” she admitted. “It was a good match. Stable. Predictable.”
“And now?” Jesse pressed.
“Now that he’s passed away, I make my own choices,” she said.
“Though discretion is still important because I love my mother and don’t want to embarrass her and cause any gossip.
I’ve been seeing someone,” she added after a short pause.
“Someone in my social circle who wouldn’t exactly approve of a scandal. ”
Jesse arched a brow. “He probably won’t approve of your stepsister killing herself either.”