Chapter Thirteen
Declan looked at the picture of Renee and Brandon. Technically, it wasn’t absolute proof of an affair, but it certainly showed some seriously bad judgment on Renee’s part.
But not necessarily a crime.
“This photo must have been taken after Brandon’s eighteenth birthday,” Declan said, pointing out the silver eagle pendant he was wearing.
“Yes,” Cully quietly agreed. “I gave that to him when he turned eighteen.”
So, that meant Brandon had been legally an adult. Of course, there was no telling how long this relationship had been going on between Renee and him.
“You had no idea?” Owen asked, glancing up at Cully.
She shook her head, and Declan silently cursed that she suddenly looked more than a little shaky. “I really didn’t know Brandon at all, I guess.” She released a long sigh. “I never picked up on this kind of vibe between Renee and him. Not between Jessica and him either.”
“How soon after his eighteenth birthday did Brandon and Jessica disappear?” Owen pressed.
“A year,” Declan and Cully said in unison. It was Declan who added, “Both Jessica and he were nineteen by then.”
Owen stayed quiet a moment, obviously giving that some thought. “So, it’s possible things had ended between Renee and Brandon before he started up with Jessica. And it’s equally possible there was no starting up at all with those two.”
“Yes,” Cully murmured, and she was no doubt thinking about that as well. “I can see Jessica finding out about her mother’s relationship with Brandon and confronting him, and Renee, about it. That could be how they ended up at the old house together.”
They had bandied around some theories, but that was one of the few that actually felt right to Declan. And not because he thought Jessica was incapable of falling for Brandon.
No.
Declan could see that happening since the four of them spent a hell of a lot of time together. But what he hadn’t been able to wrap his head around was the way Jessica had ended things with him. She wasn’t a coward, even as a teenager, and he figured if she’d wanted to be with someone else, she would have told him face to face and not have left that blasted voicemail.
And that reminded him of something that needed to be done.
“You should have the search team look for the recording of the message that Jessica left Renee,” Declan suggested to Owen.
“Good idea,” Owen remarked, and he immediately fired off a text.
If they could just get the recording, they might be able to determine if it truly was Jessica’s voice. But there might be something else on it as well. Something in the background, some slip of the tongue or noise that would point them in the direction of the killer. In addition, if Jessica had been coerced into leaving that message, then they might be able to determine that, too.
“I’m also checking on Renee’s status at the hospital,” Owen said as he typed out yet another text. “I need to know when I can confront her about this photo. In the meantime, I can find out what Roscoe has to say about that recording. And this picture.”
Declan had to hand it to Owen—that was a ballsy move, and it would likely send Roscoe into a rage. That, in turn, meant they’d need to make sure that Roscoe didn’t go after his wife. Because if Roscoe was the killer, he might try to add another victim to his tally.
“Go ahead to the observation room,” Owen instructed, combing his gaze over Cully’s face. “Or you can leave and drive to see your mom if you think it’ll help.”
“Thanks,” Cully answered after shaking her head. “But I want to hear what Roscoe has to say.”
Owen nodded as if that were the exact response he’d expected from her. “Okay, let me finish up with Noah. I’ll have Shaw take him to interview and get an official statement. If Noah confesses to anything we can use to hold him, we will. I might can even talk him into going into custody for his own safety.”
Declan didn’t see that last part happening, especially considering Noah had been in hiding all this time. The man probably wanted to get away from the police station fast.
And that brought him to a question that was troubling him.
“Why would Noah come in?” Declan threw out there. “We had no idea where he was, and it might have stayed that way since he’s been living under an alias.”
Owen shrugged. “Maybe he thought he could get the money from the safe in his old house. If the money exists, that is.”
Yeah, there was that, but it still wasn’t adding up since Noah could have tried to get the money years ago. Declan didn’t like the timing of the man turning up right around the time that someone had tried to burn the house down with Cully and him inside.
“I can get a warrant for a skin swab,” Owen suggested. “Maybe test him for an accelerant in case Noah was the one who set the fire.”
That sounded like a good start. “And I can search Cyclops to see if we can track where he’s been for the past twenty-four hours. It’d be interesting to find out just how long he’s been in Outlaw Ridge.”
“Cyclops?” Cully asked.
“A database for camera feed,” Declan explained. “Traffic cams, uploaded footage from stores. Even some satellite coverage thrown in. It’s a good tool, but unfortunately it’s not admissible in court. It’s more of a jumping off point. If we can track where Noah’s been, then we can look for supporting proof that can be used for an arrest. Gas purchases, phone pings from towers—that sort of thing.”
“Load the search into Cyclops,” Owen instructed. “It’s not a fast process,” he added to Cully. “It’s basically doing a run with facial recognition, but if we get lucky, we might get feed for Noah buying something like a can of gasoline.”
That would indeed take some luck so Declan got started. While Cully and he made their way back to observation, he accessed the photo that had been snapped of Noah when he’d come into the station. That was a built in component of the metal detector, and it ensured them that they had the most recent likeness possible. Even the clothes might give them a hit.
Declan loaded the photo and request into Cyclops and had just hit send when they stepped into observation. Cully went straight to the monitor and turned it on for the interview room where Roscoe was waiting.
Not very patiently either though.
The man was pacing like a caged tiger, his phone sandwiched between his shoulder and ear, and even though the audio was muted, he seemed to be having a heated conversation with someone. Declan figured Roscoe’s mood wouldn’t improve when Owen showed him that photo.
In contrast to Roscoe, his lawyer, an attractive, young brunette woman, was seated calmly at the table and was doing something on her phone. She was seemingly oblivious to Roscoe’s mood.
Declan went ahead and closed the door to the observation room to give Cully and him some privacy. They likely wouldn’t have much time since Owen would soon be going into interview with Roscoe, but Declan figured he could at least get one thing clear.
“I definitely had no idea Brandon was seeing Renee,” he volunteered. “And being guys, we talked a lot about sex. He never mentioned it.”
Cully’s gaze shot to his. “Brandon talked about having sex with me?”
Hell. Hell. Hell. Open mouth, insert foot.
“Just the broad strokes,” Declan assured her. And that was true. Well, broad strokes with some obligatory guy talk thrown in. “Brandon never dissed you or anything. Honestly, he thought you were beautiful and hot. Which you are.”
He groaned. Yeah, that foot was still firmly planted in his mouth.
She stared at him for what felt like an eternity or two. “Jessica and I used to talk about sex, too.”
Declan froze for a moment. Turnabout was indeed fair play, and now he knew what it felt like to have been the topic of their conversations.
“FYI, Jessica thought you were hot and beautiful, too,” Cully said, capping that off with a slight smile.
That smile took an elephant-sized weight off his chest, and he went to her and pulled her into his arms.
“The last time you did this, you kissed me,” she reminded him.
“I did. Was that a mistake?”
She shook her head, surprising him. “The old heat is still there between us. It’s never completely gone away, and I’d be lying if I said it had.” Cully paused, eased back from him and met his gaze. “But I’d also be lying if I said we could pick up where we left off twenty years ago. We can’t, Declan.”
“Yeah,” he admitted. “We were kids back then and didn’t handle, well, a lot of things right.”
He thought of the baby she’d lost. They’d lost. That was a wound that would likely never go away. And Cully had dealt with the grief and pain of that on her own. That’d been her decision to shut him out, and while Declan wasn’t sure he would ever agree with her doing that, he understood her reasons for keeping it secret.
“If you hadn’t lost the baby,” he said, “if you’d had it, you would have told me about that, right?”
She sighed. “Yes. But I would have waited until you’d already signed a commitment to the military. I wouldn’t have wanted you to give that up.”
Declan believed her, and while it wouldn’t have been easy to be parents that young, he thought they could have made it work. And that’s why their current situation didn’t seem impossible.
“How about this?” he suggested. “We don’t try to go back and pick up where we left off. Let’s just move forward and see what happens.”
The corner of her mouth lifted. “Sex will happen. You know that.”
Declan smiled, too, because they would indeed have sex if they ended up spending any time together. Like now. This was a snatch of time, a couple of stolen moments before Roscoe’s interview started.
So, Declan decided to make the most of it.
He leaned in and kissed her again. It was just as amazing as their other kiss, but this one packed a punch right from the start. All it took was a touch of his mouth to hers, and the heat slammed into him.
She tasted so good. So right. And Declan suddenly felt starved for her as if he’d gone way too long with something that didn’t feel optional. This felt like a necessity, and that’s why he deepened it. Why he made it French.
Why he didn’t pull back.
In fact, he did just the opposite, he pulled Cully even closer to him and let the kiss work some magic. Of course, that magic was a tangled mix of pleasure and torture. He wanted to keep on kissing her. Holding her. But if he kept it up, it would make it next to impossible to step away from her.
So, he forced himself to do that while he still had some functioning brain cells.
Declan took his mouth from hers and let his hands slip off her body. Definitely not easy to do. But it was the right thing, and he got confirmation of that when he caught the movement from the corner of his eye and saw that Owen had just walked into interview with Roscoe.
It was showtime.
Cully’s breath was gusting, and her face was flushed with arousal, but like him, she made a visible attempt to rein it all in. What helped was Declan turning on the audio to the interview room. The moment he did that, he heard Roscoe’s voice thunder out.
“You’d better not be planning on arresting me for those murders,” Roscoe snarled to Owen.
“To be determined. Sit down,” Owen snapped, and it sure wasn’t a suggestion. It was an order for a cop.
Roscoe glared at Owen for so long that Declan thought this might turn into some kind of pissing contest, but he finally dropped down in the chair. And did some cursing.
Owen ignored the ripe profanity and looked at the lawyer. “I’m Sheriff Owen Striker. I don’t believe we’ve met.”
“Lisa Cummings,” she said, extending her hand for him to shake. “Myers and Cummings Law Firm, San Antonio.”
“My real lawyer was busy so he sent her,” Roscoe grumbled, clearly not pleased about that. Then again, he didn’t seem to be pleased about anything.
Owen turned on the recorder, recited the time, date, and those present before he also repeated the Miranda warning to Roscoe.”
“How’s my wife?” Roscoe asked the moment Owen had finished. “Is she finished with her hissy fit?”
“She’s at the hospital,” Owen calmly stated. “Can you tell me if you or your wife kept the recording that Jessica left you when she said she was going to elope with Brandon?”
Roscoe’s forehead bunched up, maybe because this was a question he hadn’t expected. “No. She left that on our landline back in the day when we had an answering machine. After Renee and I listened to it, Renee threw the machine on the floor and stomped on it until it was in pieces.”
Well, hell. That closed the door on that particular piece of evidence. At least it did if Roscoe was telling the truth, and Declan couldn’t figure out why the man would lie about something like that.
“I have a picture to show you,” Owen said, taking out his phone.
Owen didn’t add anything else. He just held up the phone screen for Roscoe and his lawyer to see.
Declan gave the camera a quick adjustment so he could better see Roscoe’s face. At first, the man didn’t have a reaction to the photo. It was as if he was seeing something his mind couldn’t grasp. Then, every muscle in his face tightened.
“Fuck,” Roscoe growled. “Where the hell did you get that?”
“At your house. Apparently, it was in an envelope taped to the back of Renee’s underwear drawer.”
Declan could practically see the anger zinging off the man, and his lawyer tried to whisper something to him, but Roscoe pushed her away. “Renee took that of Brandon and her,” he muttered.
The reaction seemed right for someone who’d just gotten startling news, but Declan thought something was off. Maybe because Roscoe knew about the affair? If so, he clearly didn’t want to confess to that.
“That kid wouldn’t have held her interest for long,” Roscoe insisted. There was a cockiness to his tone and expression now. “Renee likes rough, hard sex by someone who knows how to give her what she wants.”
Again, his lawyer tried to say something to him, but Roscoe would have no part of that. “Shut the fuck up and let me deal with this.”
“Did you know your wife was having a relationship with Brandon?” Owen came out and asked.
“I didn’t have any proof if that’s what you’re getting at. And, no, I didn’t kill Brandon because of that.” He flung his hand in the direction of the photo Owen had shown him. “But I figured she was playing around with somebody. I suspected it would have been Noah if she got the chance.” Roscoe’s mouth twisted as if he’d tasted something bitter. “But I see could Renee doing that with the kid to get back at me,” he grumbled.
Declan noticed Roscoe’s slight wince, and he was betting the man wished he hadn’t blurted that out.
Owen jumped right in while he continued to hold out the picture for Roscoe to see. “Why did Renee want to get back at you?”
Roscoe’s mouth tightened into a flat line. “Because Renee found out I’d had a fling with somebody.”
“With Savannah,” Owen provided.
“Yeah, with her,” Roscoe confirmed after several moments of silence. “Renee found out I bought Savannah a ring, and she had one of her hissy fits like the one you witnessed.”
“So, Renee was upset,” Owen emphasized. “From what I understand, it was an expensive ring. Diamonds and rubies.”
Roscoe shrugged. “Might have been. I don’t remember. But even if it cost some money, it doesn’t mean shit. It sure as hell doesn’t mean I loved Savannah or anything. She was just a good fuck, and she liked shiny, expensive things.”
Cully’s phone rang, the sound drowning out Owen’s next question. “It’s my mother,” she relayed to him. “Mom, are you all right?” she asked the moment she answered the call and put it on speaker.
“No, I’m not,” Alice said, and the distress was heavy in her voice.
“What’s wrong? Did someone try to break in?” Cully was quick to ask.
“No. No one broke in. Hayes is here to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
Declan heard Cully release the breath that she’d obviously been holding. “Then, what is it, Mom?”
“I, uh, need to see you right away,” Alice said in a whisper. “I remembered something, and I need to tell you. Can you come home right now?”
“Of course,” Cully replied. “But what did you remember?”
Alice paused. “It’s about Harley. About when your dad left. I saw Harley that night, and he…” Her words trailed off into a hoarse sob. “And he had blood on him. Cully, I think Harley might have killed your father.”