Safe In His Arms (Manhunt) (9 page)

“Don’t do that to yourself, Mia,” Alex said sharply. “We don’t know that this has anything to do with you.”

“Of course it does,” she shrieked. “There was never any trouble at the Crossties before I started working here.”

Alex’s gaze shot to Joy’s. He wanted to alleviate Mia’s guilt, but he didn’t know how. “
Have
you had trouble before?”

She shrugged, wiping at her eyes with her apron.  “We had some fences broken. Cattle that got loose. But …nothing like this.”

Alex’s jaw locked.  “Stay here with Joy, Mia.” He glanced at Joy. “Do you have a weapon, Mrs. McCauley?”

She nodded, her hands knotted in her apron. “Henry’s rifle.”

“Do you know how to shoot?”

“No, I hate guns.” Joy glanced up at him, fear pinching her face. “You think the killer will come here?”

Alex frowned.  “I think he escaped in that vehicle I heard on the road. But we can’t be too careful.” He touched Mia’s arms.  “Can you shoot a rifle?”

“Yes,” she said, her voice stronger now. “If anyone comes after Joy, I won’t hesitate.”

He hugged her to him.  “Protect yourself, too, Mia. Remember that. Geoff is a sick bastard, and nothing he does or has done is your fault.”

Her gaze met his, an agonized look that made him hate her ex all over again.

The son of a bitch deserved to die for what he’d put Mia through. And if he tried to hurt her again, Alex would kill him and not think twice.

Geoff drove to the dump nearest the ranch, then took the scissors he’d picked up at Mia’s and began slicing her underwear. Ugly plain cotton panties and bras that she should never have purchased.

What was wrong with her?

She’d traded all her nice designer dresses and shoes for rugged jeans and western shirts and boots. Clothes befitting a common worker, not his wife.

Had she already forgotten all he’d taught her about how to dress to appeal to him? About the satin and lace that he liked?

About the skin that he wanted exposed so he could look at her, touch her, taste her?

He would have her soon. And this time it would last forever.

C
HAPTER
S
EVEN

Alex jumped back in the saddle and sent the bay into a sprint toward the dining hall. When he arrived, he noted several other horses tied outside along with Henry McCauley’s black pick-up and a Wrangler jeep.

He dismounted, then strode inside, wiping sweat from his brow. Henry met him at the door to the dining hall, his face ashen. “I can’t believe this happened,” he said in a broken voice. “Joleen was a good woman. She never hurt a soul.”

Alex gritted his teeth. He didn’t want the woman’s death on Mia’s shoulders. Not that he blamed Mia, but he understood the irrational guilt that could eat at a person, and was afraid she’d blame herself.

God knows he’d felt it before. That first case, the young woman who’d died because he’d been too late.

He shut out the memory. He’d hated himself for a long time. Just as he’d hated himself for letting the girl die in foster care.

But he was as stubborn as Mia and refused to give up. Because giving up meant the bad guys would win.

And that wasn’t an option. Geoff Jones would pay for this.

“Who found her?” Alex asked Henry.

“My foreman, Drew Bates. He came over early. I asked him to meet us here and talk to you before you questioned my hands.”

Henry gestured toward a gray haired man with a paunch and a thick beard. In spite of his size, the man looked visibly shaken as Henry introduced the two of them.

“I understand you discovered her body, Mr. Bates,” Alex said.

Bates mumbled a pained yeah. “I knew the minute I opened the door and didn’t smell anything cooking in the chow hall that something was wrong.”

“Joleen’s a great cook.” Henry’s eyes clouded over.  “Well, she was.”

“Made the best country fried steak in Texas.” Bates patted his belly. “I gained twenty pounds the first month she started cooking for us.”

“When was that?” Alex asked.

The two men exchanged sad looks. “About five years ago,” Henry answered. “Her husband used to work for me, but she lost him to cancer. Joleen and Joy have been friends for years. Joy thought Joleen needed something to do with her time. She loved cooking, so we asked her if she wanted the job.”

Bates rubbed his chin. “Before we had her, this old guy named Wilbert used to cook. Everything tasted the same. Burned the fried chicken ever damn time.”

“Did Joleen have any enemies?” Alex asked.

Both men shook their hands. “She was sixty-two-years old, a grandmother, cook, friend,” Henry said.

“Everyone here loved her.” Bates’s voice cracked. “The young guys talked about her like she was their mama.”

Alex grimaced. “Show me where she is.”

Henry grimaced but led Alex through the dining hall then through a set of double doors to a small suite built in the back.

Alex immediately scanned the room, noting details. “Call the sheriff and tell him to bring a crime unit out here. We need to sweep for forensics.”

Henry nodded and stood back while Alex slowly entered the room. Joleen was sprawled on the wood floor, her eyes wide in death, her jaw slack.

Blood coated the front of her blouse, soaking her shirt and lap. She must have tried to stop the bleeding with her hands, because they were covered in blood, and more blood streaked the wall where it appeared she’d tried to drag herself up from the floor to call for help. The phone lay off the cradle, a busy signal echoing in the silence.

He inched closer, knelt and felt her arm. Cold. Stiff. Rigor was setting in.

But her murder didn’t make sense.

If Geoff had killed her, what was his motive?  Joleen had posed no threat to him.

Had he held her hostage long enough to force her to tell him where Mia’s cabin was then shot her to keep her from warning Mia he was coming?

“I know Geoff is dangerous,” Mia said to Joy. “But I don’t understand why he’d shoot Joleen.”

Joy yanked more tissue from the box and wiped her eyes. “He must be a desperate man.”

Mia nodded. She’d seen the news, knew some guards had been murdered, but for some reason, had assumed the other men committed the murders.

When they’d been together, Geoff had only vented his rage against her.

Prison had obviously changed him.

Mia paced the living room. “When Alex returns, I’ll leave the Crossties.”

“No, you won’t. Besides, we don’t know for certain your ex did this,” Joy said, although her voice warbled.

“He was at my cabin,” Mia said.  “He left me flowers and a note.” She refused to tell Joy about the underwear. It was too humiliating.

“I’ve heard about men stalking women,” Joy said. “I suppose I was lucky all those years ago to find Henry.”

“You were lucky and
smar
t,” Mia said, emphasizing the last word. “Geoff was my mistake. No one else should have to suffer for it.”  Maybe she should go on TV, make a plea for Geoff to meet her. Trade her life so he wouldn’t hurt anyone else.

A siren wailed, and she looked out the window and saw the sheriff’s car and a crime van pulling up. 

Joy pushed to her feet. “I’ll point them in the direction of the dining hall.”

“No.” Mia squeezed her shoulder.  “Stay here and drink your tea. I’ll tell them where to go.”

Mia didn’t wait for an argument. She stepped onto the front porch and waited until the men approached.

“Sheriff Leonard, Ma’am.” He tipped his hat. ”Mr. McCauley called about a murder.”

“Yes,” Mia said.  “He and Sgt. Townsend are at the dining hall.” She gestured toward the turn a few feet away.  “The cook Joleen Perry was shot.” She inhaled a deep breath.  “I think I know who did it.”

The sheriff squinted through the fading sun. “Who would that be, Ma’am?”

“My ex-husband Geoff Jones. He’s one of the escaped prisoners. He came here looking for me.”

Alex snapped photos of the crime scene with his cell phone. The gunshot wound, the way Joleen’s body was lying on the floor, her hand reaching out for help…

Help that hadn’t come in time.

There were no signs of a struggle though. Everything seemed neat and tidy as if the shooter had surprised her. The small suite was filled with kitty cat knick-knacks and Afghans she’d probably knitted herself. Pictures of three children along with a woman and man in their thirties sat on the kitchen counter.

A pang hit him. Her family would have to be called.

He walked around the body, then noticed a bullet casing beneath the table and snapped a photo of it. It looked like a slug from a .38.

The sound of an engine puttering echoed from outside, and he walked to the front to see the sheriff’s car and crime unit roll up.  Some of Henry’s ranch hands had already arrived for dinner and their meeting, and Alex had asked Henry to keep the men outside and not to let anyone leave. He didn’t want the crime scene contaminated, and all the men on the ranch had to be questioned.

Alex needed solid evidence to prove that Jones had murdered Joleen, too. Then he could add a homicide charge to his other charges. Combined with his previous sentence, Geoff wouldn’t see daylight for a long damn time.

And any chance of his haughty parents denying that Geoff was a criminal would be lost forever. 

They made quick introductions as the sheriff and crime team met him at the door.

“We spoke to Ms. Matthews,” Sheriff Leonard said. “She thinks her ex-husband killed this woman.”

Alex gritted his teeth. “It’s possible. Jones is obsessed with Mia. We believe he came after her for revenge.”

“I remember that trial. Don’t have any use for wife beaters myself,” Sheriff Leonard muttered sourly.

“Me neither,” Alex said. “Jones has been on the ranch. He left flowers and a note on Mia’s doorstep and messed with her clothing inside the house.”

The sheriff studied Joleen’s body where it lay on the floor in a pool of blood. “Why did he kill Joleen?”

“I don’t know,” Alex said.  “Maybe he came here looking for Mia. Joleen could have recognized him from the news and tried to call the police.”

The sheriff hooked his thumbs in his belt. “That makes sense.”