Keller County Cops Book Seven: Code of Vengeance (16 page)

"Be careful, Tiffany," C.J. murmured.

She trained her pistol on the cat. "Planning on it. Go check the rest of the place while I entertain Mr. Tabby here. He appears to be fixated on me."

"Typical male. Don't hurt him."

"Do I look like a cat murderer?" She shot him a perplexed look. "Really?"

"No." He swallowed back a laugh. So much like Abby. No wonder Mitch had married her. "Sorry, Deputy."

He left her with the enraged feline and poked his head into the bathroom. No place to hide in there. The miniscule closets lining the hall were both filled with jeans and work clothes, so apparently LeDarius Roach worked construction.

He wasn't home now, however.

Or was he?

A vile odor rose up to choke C.J. the second he breeched the bedroom door. He halted and gaped at the body lying face down on the bed in a pool of blood.

Was it Roach?

*****

"Let me get this straight." Sheriff Blaylock cocked his head at Keegan and fixed her with a stormy glare. "You're saying Dirk Woodward
abused
your sister?"

"Yes, the entire time they dated, but she refused to break it off with him no matter what he did. Then he killed her. Only, the jury acquitted him and--"

"I remember."

"You should." A whirlpool of anger swirled within her. "He murdered her, but your department screwed up and he got off without even a slap on the wrist."

"You're blaming my department? Try taking a look at the DA's office." Fury flamed in the sheriff's eyes. "And I suppose you plan to stick with the lame-ass
I-was-following-my-boyfriend
story about the night Woodward died, right?"

"Of course I am." She crossed her arms to keep him from noticing how much she was shaking.
"I
sure as hell didn't murder Dirk."

"I know you didn't. I've seen the surveillance video, remember?" He sneered at her. "That aside, you don't have a boyfriend at all, do you? You never did. So that's not why you were at the club that night. You were there for another reason."

"I
did
have a boyfriend, but not anymore." She lifted her chin. "I kicked him to the curb."

"Because he went to the strip club after telling you he wouldn't."

"Exactly."

"Bullshit." Blaylock narrowed his eyes. "I'll bet my next paycheck Barry Jones doesn't even exist and that you were at the club that night to stalk Woodward and find some way to pay him back for killing your sister. What was her name again?"

"Jenny. And that... that's not true."
Hammer, meet nail.
She did her best not to cringe under his blatant stare, because then he'd know for sure she'd just lied to him. Again.

He lay back against the pillow. "I don't believe you."

"Why not?" A wave of defiance swept over her despite her web of lies, and she opened her mouth to defend herself. The ringing of Blaylock's cell phone cut her off, however, to her relief, and she fixed her gaze on him. Would he pick it up, or ignore it and continue to torture her with more questions she didn't want to answer?

Finally, he cursed and snatched up the shrilling device. The movement must have hurt him, because he grimaced again, dropped back against the pillows, and drew in few gulps of air. Then he brought the phone to his ear, and his expression darkened further.

"Yeah?"

Intent on eavesdropping on his end of the conversation, Keegan almost missed the bleating of
her
cell phone. Damn it. Why was someone calling her now, instead of while the sheriff had been raking her over the coals? She opened her purse and pulled out the gadget before it could ring again. A familiar number flashed across the display screen.

Eager to find out what the call was about, she hurriedly accepted it. "Hello?"

"Keegan," one of the court clerks said. "The jury's back."

"Already?" Her stomach clenched. Less than two hours had passed since Judge Rouse had given the twelve their instructions. That probably meant they'd voted to acquit Wicker.

The clerk sighed. "Yes. Judge Rouse wanted to reconvene this evening, but Abington refused. Guess he's dead set on prolonging the inevitable."

"Probably." Keegan's nerve endings tingled. If the jury acquitted the bastard, she'd have to act no matter what the sheriff believed. Rosemary Wicker deserved the same justice Jenny had gotten at the hands of a stranger. A strange sense of calmness settled over Keegan. "What time did Rouse say we'd reconvene?"

"At nine a.m. He said something about a fishing trip, so I think he wants to get out of town as soon after court as possible. He hasn't had a vacation in a while."

"Seriously?" Keegan groaned at having to be at the courthouse an hour earlier than normal until she realized the clerk's call just might give her an out. If she played it right, she could get out of here without having to answer any more of the sheriff's questions. She glanced at him and found him watching her the way a hawk eyes a mouse even though he was still on the phone. She hurriedly ended her conversation and slid her phone back into her purse.

"Thanks, C.J. Keep me posted," Blaylock barked into his cell. "Yeah, sure. I will."

Soon as he hung up, she cleared her throat and got up. "Sorry, Sheriff, but I have to go."

"Well, that's pretty damned convenient." He narrowed his eyes. "How much did you pay whoever that was to break up this little party?"

"I didn't pay anyone. You got a phone call, too." Her whole body vibrated with tension. She lifted her chin. "The jury's ready to deliver a verdict."

"A verdict in the Wicker case?"

"Yes." She looped her purse strap over her shoulder.
No need to tell him the trial won't reconvene until in the morning. Let him think it's tonight. Once I'm out of here, I'll at least be able to breathe again.
She met his curious gaze. "What does it matter to you, anyway?"

"My department handled the case." His gaze darkened. "On the other hand, Ronald Wicker is accused of murdering his wife -- just like your almost brother-in-law."

"That's right." She frowned. "What are you getting at?"

"What'll you do if he's acquitted?" Blaylock tilted his head.

She shrugged. "The same thing I'll do if he goes to prison. Go home, kick back in a tub filled with hot water and bubbles, and have a glass of wine."

"That's it?"

"Yes, sir. I plan to go home and relax." She drew in a deep breath. "Now, if you don't mind, I really do need to go."

"By all means. Don't let me keep you."

"Fine." She fled before he could stop her.

*****

C.J. lowered the phone and stared at the body sprawled across the unmade bed. The victim was broad shouldered, with smooth mahogany skin and short, messy dreadlocks. All he had on was a pair of pants. He lay face down in a pool of drying blood, with two bullet holes in his back. Flies buzzed around him, and the odor wafting from his soiled jeans filled the room.

"Nasty." C.J. choked back a surge of bile and covered his mouth and nose. The poor guy, probably LeDarius Roach, hadn't been dead for very long, because the odor hadn't yet drifted to the rest of the trailer. After another hour or so, however, the whole place would stink.

He wanted to be out of here long before then.

"Tiffany!" he shouted, his eyes watering from the stench. "We've got a body back here. I've already notified the sheriff, but I need you to call dispatch."

"Okay!" she yelled back. "That's just perfect. Back off, you damn cat."

Another furious yowl echoed down the hall, followed by Tiffany's footsteps thudding against the worn linoleum. She entered the room and jerked to a halt, her weapon at the ready.

"Christ. Is that Perini's pal?"

"Roach?" C.J.'s hand muffled the man's name. "That'd be my guess."

"Mine, too." She pulled out her phone and backed from the room with her nose wrinkled. "Come on. No point in losing what's left of your lunch. Hell, it's almost time for supper. After this, I'll probably skip it."

"Not a bad plan." He followed her out, ignored the cat crouched beneath the table, and gratefully descended the steps into the yard. The fresh air did wonders for his aching lungs. "Tell 'em to send an animal control officer out, too. They can take the cat to the no-kill shelter out on Highway 463."

"Roger that." She got on her radio and asked the dispatcher to send out CSU, animal control, and the county coroner.

C.J. drew in a few more deep, cleansing breaths. The warm, sweet-smelling fresh air helped to soothe his swirling gut. He met Tiffany's eyes once she got off the radio. "Perini's in the wind. I'm guessing he might've done this."

"Is he from here?"

"No, even though he gave Corrections this address." With a frown, he pulled out his phone and called Jonah. "He's from Dallas."

Tiffany walked off to meet another deputy who'd arrived on scene, followed by an animal control officer in a white pickup bearing the KCSO logo.

"Yeah, buddy," Jonah said in lieu of hello when he answered the phone. "Did you find Perini?"

"No. Just the guy who owns the trailer. LeDarius Roach." C.J. paused. "He's dead. Shot twice in the back."

"Son of a bitch."

"You can say that again. It's nasty in there." He dragged a hand through his hair. " Find out if Roach has a car and run it down, will you? Chances are that if he did, Perini stole it. Then contact the closest airports--"

"Gulfport, New Orleans, Jackson, and Mobile."

"Yeah, you know the drill. Grab whoever else you can to help you and have 'em check Amtrak, the bus terminals, and rental car agencies... plus any other entities you believe might help us find that scumbag. We need to catch him before he leaves the area. If he makes it to Dallas, where he might still have family, or even Atlanta, with it being such a big travel hub, we'll probably never find his sorry ass."

"Sure thing, man. New Orleans will be trouble enough if he makes it that far."

"True. Let me know what you find as soon as you can," C.J. said.

Jonah agreed, and then ended the call.

Tiffany and the animal control officer strode past C.J. as he shoved his phone back into his pocket. The animal control guy carried a big plastic cat carrier and a long stick with a loop on the end. Not wanting to be in the vicinity of the angry cat when the guy attempted to corner it, C.J. headed over to the car to grab a swig of the soft drink he'd bought but never opened.

Lord knew, he needed something to get the taste of death out of his mouth.

*****

Sheriff Blaylock's hot glare burned into Keegan's back as she marched to the door. He was such an ass. How in hell had she
ever
thought he was attractive? She yanked open the door and ran headlong into a big, angry-looking man sporting a military buzz cut and a bad attitude.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?" He narrowed his eyes and shoved a gun in her face. "Get back in there."

"What? No. I can't stay." Too startled to think straight, she gaped at him. "What do you think
you're
doing?"

"Shut. Up." He shoved her toward the partially open door.

She dropped her purse and stumbled backward into the door. "Stop it."

"Keegan?" The whir of a motor told her the sheriff was adjusting the height of the bed. "Are you okay? Why are you--"

"Hello, Sheriff." The man's low growl sliced into Keegan's dumfounded state. He kept his weapon trained on her as he snatched her purse off the floor and bullied his way into the room.

She came out of her stupor and focused on the pistol in his hand. If not for it, she'd lay him out with a roundhouse kick and go for help. As it was, she didn't dare move.

"Who in hell are you?" Blaylock's gaze fell on the gun. He went still. "Get out."

"No fucking way." The guy pressed the pistol to Keegan's neck, shoved her deeper into the room, and closed the door. He tossed her purse onto the chair she'd vacated only minutes ago, and then waved the gun at the sheriff. "Go over there and help him out of bed."

"What?" she croaked, jerking around to glare at him. "Why?"

"Because I said so." He gritted his teeth. "Do it now."

"All right." She lifted both hands and side-walked over to the bed. The railing prevented her from reaching the sheriff, who appeared just as perplexed as she was. She turned and stared at the hospital bed as if she'd never seen one before. "I-I don't know what I'm--"

"Come on, lady. Use your head and lower the damned railing." Keeping the gun trained on her, he pulled a wedge of wood out of his pocket, dropped it onto the floor, and kicked it beneath the door. Now no one could come in, at least not without using brute force.

Her heart pounded. With shaking hands, she gripped the metal bedrail. Took her three tries lower it, but she finally got it to collapse with a sharp clang. She jumped.

"Relax, Keegan, and do what he says," the sheriff murmured. "Even though I can probably get up without your help."

"You might hurt yourself," she blurted, all of her training and composure going out the window as she stared at his stoic face.

"Hurry up," their captor barked. "Pull down the blanket and take out his IV."

"What? No." Trepidation filled her. "I-I'm not a nurse. He's injured, and I might--"

"I don't give a damn. Get busy."

"Shh, Keegan. It's okay. Really." Blaylock gripped the railing on the other side of the bed and pulled himself into a sitting position. With a wince, he swung his legs over the edge of the mattress and just sat there for a moment, breathing hard. He pulled the oxygen monitor off his finger, and then held out his arm so she could reach the IV. "Go ahead. Pull off the tape, and then take out the needle. If you do it fast, it won't be too painful."

"I-I don't think I can do it." Her hands trembled as she removed the paper tape.

"Yes, you can," he rumbled. "I trust you."

"I don't know why."

"Me, either." A weak smile ghosted over his lips. "Now, just grab the needle and pull."

"It's going to hurt no matter how fast I do it."