Chapter Twenty-Nine
Twenty-Nine
Izzy stepped out of the police station into the cold. She leaned her head back and stared up at the dull black sky. Tonight was cloudy, no stars. Which was just as well because she’d spent the afternoon in front of a computer, and she was way too drained to even think about a nighttime photo shoot.
She zipped her jacket and set off across the parking lot, checking the shadows between cars.
She didn’t used to even notice things like that here.
This was Madrone, not New York, but she’d been edgy all week and paranoid about everything.
She slipped her hand inside her pocket, closing her fingers around her pepper spray.
“Izzy.”
She whirled around, and her heart skipped a beat as a man emerged from the shadows near the building.
Duncan Harper.
“God, you scared me.” She breathed a sigh of relief as he walked over.
“Sorry.” He stopped in front of her. “Working late?”
“Not really. Sorting through some photo files.” She’d been combing through the homicide scene pictures again, hoping to spot some new detail that everyone had missed.
“Glad I caught you.” He held up a plastic baggie, and she recognized the memory card from her camera. “Detective Malcom wanted me to drop this off for you.”
“Oh. Thanks.” She took the baggie with the little gray square in it. Someone had scribbled I. Huerta across the front with a Sharpie. “Did he find anything useful?”
“Unfortunately, no.”
She looked up at Duncan. Unlike the other night at the trailhead, he wore street clothes now. But even in faded jeans and sneakers, he still looked like a cop. There was something about this man that screamed law enforcement, even when he was off duty.
“You think of anything new for us?” he asked.
“New?”
“Since Friday night.”
“You mean like—”
“Sometimes witnesses remember things later that they didn’t recall in the first round of questioning,” he said.
“Maybe something from the parking lot where you left your car? Maybe a vehicle or a person? Or maybe even a dog?” He gazed down at her, his look intense.
He looked that way a lot, she was learning.
Until the other night, she had only known him in passing, mainly through Leanne. “Anything come to you?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Let us know if that changes.”
“I will.”
He looked over his shoulder at the building. “So, have you seen Leanne today? I’ve been trying to reach her.”
“I haven’t seen her.” Izzy paused. “You know about the fire, right? At her family’s ranch?”
“I heard.”
“You might try there.” Izzy glanced at the baggie in her hand. “So…does the sheriff’s office have any new leads in the case?”
“We got an ID on the victim,” he said.
“Oh yeah?”
“Her fingerprints were in the system.”
The victim must have had a criminal record of some kind. But Duncan didn’t explain, and she got the impression he didn’t want to share details.
“So…are you guys going to team up now?” she asked.
“Who?”
“All of you. Travis Malcom, you, Leanne. Everyone working on these cases. It seems like it makes sense with all the similarities.”
He nodded but didn’t say anything, and she felt a flare of annoyance. Yet another detective who didn’t want to let her into the inner circle. Would she ever break through? She was starting to feel like even in her own hometown she would always be an outsider.
“You guys are thinking they’re connected, right?
The two murder cases?” She studied his face for clues, but he looked neutral.
“There are so many common angles, with the victims’ ages and the beatings.
Plus, the duct tape they found. Leanne was saying how it would help if everyone investigating joined forces. ”
He squinted. “Yeah, I doubt that’s gonna happen.”
“Why not?”
He tipped his head back and forth. “Sheriff Ackley’s got a pretty strong personality. So does your chief. They don’t usually work together.”
“Demasiados gallos.”
His eyebrows arched.
“Too many roosters.” She waved her hand. “Just something my grandmother used to say.”
“Yeah, well. You’re probably right about that.”
He looked back at the building again, and she knew he’d come here for Leanne and that dropping off her memory card was an excuse to make the drive.
She held up the baggie. “Thanks for bringing this.”
He nodded. “If you remember anything new from Friday, be sure to let us know.”
· · ·
Leanne was falling.
She reached for the rope, but it slipped through her hands, faster and faster, and she couldn’t get a grip. She waited for her harness to catch and jerk her up.
“Leanne.”
She reached for the rope again, but it was too slick. The rock wall disappeared, and there was no rope, no harness, nothing at all. She was in a free fall, being sucked toward the ground.
“Leanne.”
She sat up.
It was dark and cold. She was outside on the lounge chair behind her house.
“Hey.”
Duncan crouched beside her. She sat forward, feeling dizzy.
“What are you doing out here?” His voice was low and gruff, and she looked at his shadowed profile in the porch light.
“I was just…” She closed her eyes. “What time is it?”
“After eleven.”
She swung her legs off the chair and grabbed the jacket she’d been using as a blanket. “I fell asleep.”
She stood up. Duncan stood, too, reaching for her arm as she swayed.
“Whoa there. You all right?”
“Yeah.”
She ran a hand through her hair and looked around. How long had she been asleep out here?
He bent down and picked up her bottle of Jack Daniel’s from the ground.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
He gave a crooked smile. “You don’t remember texting me?”
Her cheeks flushed. “Oh. Yeah.”
She took the bottle from him and headed for the house. He walked beside her, and she tried to remember exactly what she’d said in her text.
He reached around her and opened the door. “I called and left a couple messages. When you didn’t pick up, I got worried.”
The kitchen was dark except for the light above the sink. Her phone sat on the counter beside her car keys. She threw her jacket over the chair, then set the bottle down and tapped her phone screen. She’d missed a slew of calls.
“You okay?”
She turned to look at him. He wore jeans and running shoes, and his soft gray T-shirt that had been through the wash a million times. He leaned against the counter, watching her with that intense look of his.
He stepped closer, frowning. “Looks like you’ve been crying.”
She turned away.
“Hey.”
“I’m fine,” she said.
His arms went around her, heavy and warm, and he eased her against him.
Leanne’s stomach knotted. Blinking back tears, she leaned her cheek against his chest. His body felt solid, and he smelled good, like he always did. He planted a kiss on the top of her head, and the tears seeped out.
“Sorry.” She pressed her nose against his shirt.
“It’s okay.”
She squeezed her eyes shut.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Nothing.”
He eased back. “Tell me what happened.”
She tensed. Her mom’s face came back to her, angry and contorted as she spewed all those words.
Leanne stepped back. “Nothing.”
“Nothing.”
“Just forget it.” She turned away and wiped her cheeks. “What did you call about? You said you left messages?”
His jaw tightened. She could see she’d ticked him off, but she didn’t care. She didn’t want to have this conversation.
He leaned back against the counter. “First, we got an ID on the murdered hiker.”
“I heard. But she wasn’t a hiker. I heard she’d been arrested for prostitution in El Paso.”
“That’s right. Travis is following up on her background, looking for leads. The other thing is, I wanted to update you on that evidence I sent in last week.”
“The duct tape?”
“Yeah. Ackley found out that I submitted it and got pissed.”
Dread filled her stomach. The sheriff was known to have a short fuse.
“Did he…What did he do?”
“Threatened to suspend me, for one.”
“Oh my God. I’m sorry. Did he do it?”
“No.” Duncan rubbed the back of his neck. “He was just pissed I went around him, so he called me into his office and reamed me out.”
“What about the evidence. Did he pull it?”
“No.”
“That’s good, at least. And I’m glad you’re not suspended.”
“Enough about me.” He folded his arms over his chest. “I want to know what’s going on with you.”
“I’m fine. I told you.”
He stepped closer and stared down at her, his mouth tight. “You’re fine.”
“Yes.”
“You’re just…hanging out on Sunday night, knocking back bourbon and crying for no reason.” He paused. “Is it your dad?”
“Why would you ask that?”
“I don’t know. Is it his birthday or something?”
Shame flooded her. She didn’t want to talk about this, and especially not with Duncan. She admired him too much. He was a stand-up guy, a good cop.
She’d always believed her father was, too.
Maybe he was, and her mom was simply trying to tear him down out of bitterness. Leanne didn’t know anymore. Her thoughts were all muddled, and the bourbon hadn’t helped.
“It’s complicated,” she said. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Why not?”
“Because you wouldn’t.”
“Try me.”
Duncan watched her, his eyes determined, as though he was braced for anything. She felt something building between them.
And at the same time, she felt something slipping away.
He sighed. “You know what? I’m sick of this.”
“Of what?”
“I risk my neck for you, and you won’t even—” He shook his head.
“I won’t even what?”
He glared at her. “You don’t see it, do you?” He stepped closer, hands on his hips. “You need a favor, you call me. You’re feeling lonely, you call me. This is Dallas all over again, and I’m not twenty-five anymore, Leanne. That’s it. I’m out.”
He moved for the door, and panic spurted through her.
“Wait! Where are you going?”
“Call me when you’re ready to have a real conversation.”