WANTED (6 page)

“They found old blood spatter on the wall in one of the rooms. Not my dad’s office. But in Stella’s quarters.”

Hell, that was not what he wanted to hear. Stella was like a mother to him. But yeah, she had motive. Because she’d lived and worked at the children’s facility when a lot of the abuse was going on. Along with Sarah’s help, Stella could have indeed killed Jonah Webb.

“Describe the spatter,” Lyla said, and she didn’t sound scared anymore. She sounded like the CSI that she was.

“Who is that?” Billy demanded.

“A close friend,” Wyatt lied. “We can trust her.”

He hoped.

Billy hesitated, and for a moment Wyatt didn’t think he’d add more. Finally, he cleared his throat. “Someone had painted over the spatter, but they saw it with some kind of special light.”

“A UV light,” Lyla provided.

“You should get out here,” Billy insisted. “Because I’m thinking they’ll try to use this to arrest Stella.” And with that, Billy hung up.

Wyatt stared at the phone and tried to work through what Billy had just told him. There wasn’t much to work through, though. He needed to know exactly what’d been found in that building.

He grabbed his keys from his pocket and then looked at Lyla. It was risky, leaving her, but he didn’t want to pull his brothers away from what they were doing.

“You can stay with Dallas and the others at his house,” he let her know. It wouldn’t be comfortable. Sort of a baptism by family fire. “But don’t talk about the baby or the proposal. I need to tell them in my own way.”

A way he hadn’t quite figured out yet.

“I want to go with you,” she insisted. “I want to get a look at that spatter. It happens to be my area of expertise, and I can help you determine what happened. Or if it’s been staged. Considering everything else that’s going on, someone could have planted the blood there.”

He was shaking his head before she finished. “This isn’t your fight.”

“To heck it’s not. Someone’s trying to kill me because of this
fight.
I’m not asking your permission. I want to see that crime scene, even if I have to hire a bodyguard or two to go with me.”

Wyatt jammed his thumb against his chest. “I’m your bodyguard. And there’s that little thing about conflict of interest.”

“I’ll be an observer. I won’t touch the evidence or even talk to the investigators. But I want to see what they’ve found. And if it’s legitimate, I want to stop anyone from tampering with it.”

It was a good argument, but he had a better one. “Until we’re married, you’re in danger. I don’t want you out there.”

She looked at the marriage license. Then at him. “You’re sure that’s the only way to keep me and the baby safe?”

“Yes.” And Wyatt prayed that was true. If this gamble failed, the consequences could be fatal.

Lyla pulled in a long breath. And nodded. “All right. Let me get a look at that blood, and then...” She stopped, gathered more breath, as if she might choke on the words. “I’ll marry you.”

Chapter Six

Lyla’s heart dropped when she heard what Wyatt said to the person he’d just called. Justice of the Peace Elliot Stowe.

“Meet us at the Rocky Creek Children’s Facility,” he told the man. “I have the bride and license. You can marry us at the end of the road that leads to the facility. We’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

“We’re doing this now?” she asked the moment Wyatt ended the call.

Wyatt didn’t take his eyes off the road or their surroundings. As he’d done since their quick departure, his gaze kept darting to the side and rearview mirrors of the SUV he’d taken from the ranch.

“I’m not taking you inside Rocky Creek until we’re married,” he insisted. “It’s the only way to ensure your safety.”

“But there are CSIs and probably cops out in the building. You’ll be there, too. Heck, it’s probably one of the safest places in Texas right now.”

He looked at her, those sizzling eyes showing some anger. “You agreed to this.”

“Yes, but I thought I’d have some time to adjust.”

And change her mind along with coming up with a different plan.

Mercy, this was happening too fast. She needed some downtime so she could think. But then Lyla remembered the sound of those bullets tearing into her place. Any one of them could have hit Wyatt, her or the baby, and she couldn’t risk that again.

“Swear to me there’s no other way,” she said.

But he didn’t swear. Well, he swore some profanity, but he didn’t give her a charming or terrifying spin on why this had to happen. Right now, she needed some logic to hang on to.

“Consider this,” he finally answered. “I think you’re carrying the baby that I’ve wanted for the past five years. Heck, all of my life. I’ll do whatever it takes to protect you. That includes putting my life on the line to save you.”

Oh.

Well, that was something to hang on to, all right. Heaven help her, she believed him. About that part anyway.

“Swear on your wife’s grave that this isn’t an attempt to get custody of this baby when he or she is born.”

No profanity this time. No quick answer, either. And that didn’t do anything to steady her nerves.

Lyla groaned.

“I won’t use the marriage to try for custody,” he finally said, “and that’s the only promise I can make.”

She studied his expression, especially his eyes. Well, as much of them as she could see, considering he was still doing lookout. Lyla groaned again when she realized this argument was over. Both the physical one and the one inside her.

She was going to marry Wyatt McCabe.

A man she hardly knew.

She hoped this wasn’t the worst mistake of her life. She’d made some doozies in the past, but this could top them all.

But it could also save her baby.

Right now, that seemed the only thing that really mattered. That, and putting an end to the danger. Things couldn’t continue this way, because the stress could cause her to miscarry.

That thought crushed her heart.

She’d planned and waited so long for this baby, and here someone might snatch it away from her.

Lyla spent the rest of the drive nibbling on her bottom lip and trying to work through the panic she was starting to feel again. How could her life have changed so much in just a few hours? And it might continue to change, for the worse, if they couldn’t put a stop to this nameless, faceless person who’d want to manipulate her by using an unborn child.

Wyatt took the turn to the Rocky Creek facility, but there was a car on the road between them and the building. He reached for his gun, causing her heart to thud against her ribs, but he reholstered when the ginger-haired man and elderly woman stepped from the vehicle.

“Slide over toward me,” Wyatt instructed her. “That’s Elliot Stowe and his secretary, Adele Bedford.”

“How did they get out here so fast?” Lyla thought she’d have a least a few more minutes.

“Stowe’s a justice of the peace in the town just a few miles from here. He brought his secretary because we need a witness.”

Wyatt had thought of everything, but when their gazes met, Lyla could have sworn she saw some uncertainty there. It vanished, however, when the JP and his secretary got into the backseat of the SUV. Because Lyla still hadn’t moved yet, Wyatt unhooked her seat belt and slid her closer. Until she was tucked into the crook of his arm.

“Make it fast,” Wyatt told the man.

Lyla doubted Stowe could do anything slowly. His muscles were tight and wired. Ditto for his expression. His Adam’s apple was bobbing. Clearly he wasn’t comfortable with this, either. However, his secretary just seemed puzzled about the whole ordeal.

Wyatt handed the man the license, and without even making introductions, Stowe started the vows. “Do you, Lyla Marie Pearson, take this man, Wyatt David McCabe...”

Lyla heard the words, saw them form on the man’s mouth, but she was still dealing with the shock when it came time for her to say
I do.
Wyatt gave her a nudge on the arm, and she mumbled the words that she prayed she wouldn’t regret.

“I do.”

A few moments later, Wyatt repeated the words. And Stowe pronounced them husband and wife. He scrawled his signature on the license and handed it to his secretary to do the same as the witness.

“You so owe me for this,” Stowe said to Wyatt.

Wyatt nodded and mumbled a thanks. “Make those calls I asked you to make.”

Stowe returned the nod, and just like that, the couple exited the SUV, got back into their car and drove away.

The ceremony had lasted less than five minutes. Heaven knew how much time it would take her to get the annulment when this was over. And there would be an annulment. No way would she stay married to this stranger.

“What phone calls did you ask him to make?” Lyla wanted to know.

“He’ll get the gossip mill going about our marriage. I want everyone to hear about it so the danger will end.”

Maybe that wouldn’t take long, and while she was hoping, Lyla hoped she could get close enough to that blood spatter to learn something. Because if Wyatt’s plan failed, then her best shot was learning the identity of Webb’s killer. And she was betting it was the same person who’d put her in harm’s way.

Wyatt reached in his shirt pocket and extracted a simple gold wedding band.

Lyla was sure her mouth dropped open. “You took the time to buy me a ring?” But then she had a horrible thought. “It’s not Ann’s?”

“No. It belonged to Kirby’s grandmother. I asked him if I could borrow it. Didn’t say why, but I’ll owe him and the others an explanation soon.”

So, it was a family ring for something that usually meant the start of a new family. Too bad they’d made a mockery of the vows. But then she mentally shrugged. After two failed relationship, including one where she’d become a punching bag for her moronic ex, she’d given up altogether on the notion of marital bliss.

She was pretty sure there’d be no bliss in the sham one, either.

“Put on the ring,” Wyatt instructed. “And make sure everyone sees it.” Once the JP’s car was out of the way, he started driving toward the facility. “We’ll have to try to make people think we’re newlyweds.”

Lyla was almost afraid to ask what that might involve. And she was equally riled that her body seemed somewhat amused at the idea of playing a wife to Wyatt.

Get a grip.

Yes, he was attractive. Literally, he was the best-looking man she’d ever laid eyes on, but she had to get her mind on ending the danger and not focus on the physical attributes of her fake husband.

Wyatt pulled to a stop in front of the building, where a group of vehicles were parked. One was the county CSI van. She knew the people who worked there, so she might see a friendly face. The sheriff’s cruiser was there, too, along with a sleek silver car.

The moment they stepped from the SUV, a lanky dark-haired man came out of the building and started toward them.

“Billy,” Wyatt greeted.

Billy Webb. The son of the man who’d been murdered. He no doubt knew he was a suspect, and that Wyatt might not trust him, because he lifted his hands to show them that he had no weapon.

Well, no visible one anyway.

His coat was plenty big enough to conceal a weapon or two.

“This is my wife, Lyla,” Wyatt said, making introductions.

Billy tipped his head. “Mrs. McCabe.”

She flinched before she could stop herself, but she didn’t think Billy noticed, because he was already turning to go back inside. If he had any reaction whatsoever to the marriage, he didn’t show it. Maybe that meant they could rule him out as a suspect in this manipulation-of-evidence plot.

Of course, maybe he was just a good actor.

“You remember the way to Stella’s room?” Billy asked Wyatt.

Wyatt’s gaze slid over the dingy walls and floor. “I remember everything about this godforsaken place.”

Billy made a sound of agreement. They went through the main area and up the stairs and into a wide side corridor. “And now I’m betting someone is trying to set Stella up for Dad’s murder,” Billy added.

“You don’t think she did it?” Lyla asked, earning herself a glare from Wyatt.

Probably because he didn’t want her to say anything that would connect her with the Webb investigation. Then again, this was Wyatt, and even though she barely knew him, he’d probably planned out every step of this visit. And this conversation.

“No. I don’t think Stella’s guilty,” Billy answered, and he didn’t hesitate, either. “I think it was someone associated with my dad’s side businesses. In fact, I think that’s the person who talked my mother into putting the knife in my dad’s chest.”

From what Lyla had read and what Wyatt had told her, Sarah Webb did have an accomplice, but the woman herself had instigated the killing. Of course, anything was possible, especially since Sarah was emotionally unstable. The product of years of physical abuse. Lyla had gotten only a taste of it, and she knew how it could batter a woman’s soul and confidence.

“By side businesses, you mean the gunrunning your father was doing with Travis Weston?” Wyatt asked.

“Yeah. But there doesn’t seem to be any proof to link Travis to the crime.”

Wyatt didn’t say anything about the gunman who was connected to Travis, so Lyla didn’t bring it up, either.

“What about the boys your father used?” Wyatt continued.

“The Rangers have checked. No records for that, of course, and the only names I could remember were Dakota Cooke and Spenser Cash. Dakota died a few years ago in a car accident. Spenser has dropped off the radar.”

That sounded some alarms in her head. Wyatt had called these events a pattern, and she was beginning to agree. It seemed awfully suspicious that one possible witness was dead and another missing.

They turned down another corridor, where there was a string of doors, all closed except for one, and a Texas Ranger was standing guard outside it.

Stella’s room, no doubt.

“Who all lived here in this wing?” she asked.

“The help. Stella, the cooks and the housekeepers.” Wyatt pointed to the doors at the end. “That was the Webbs’ quarters at the time of the murder.” He pointed to the door near it. “And that was his office.”

Where it was believed the murder had taken place. Well, until now anyway. If Lyla remembered correctly, there’d been some spatter detected there, too, but it hadn’t been enough to determine that Webb had actually died there.

“Stella has motive?” Lyla asked Wyatt.

“Yeah. I guess. Declan’s her son, and Webb had beaten the hell out of him that day.”

“He’d beaten a lot of people that day,” Billy mumbled a split second before they stopped in front of the Ranger.

“Tucker McKinnon,” the Ranger said. “You’re Marshal McCabe, and I can’t let you into this room.”

Wyatt nodded. “This is my wife, the new director of the San Antonio Crime Lab.”

“Your wife?” the Ranger questioned. His forehead bunched up. “Until I get word otherwise, I can’t let her in, either.”

But Lyla didn’t need to get in. She just needed a look. And she got an eyeful. The UV light was still on the blood spatter that someone had tried to cover with paint, and the other tech was photographing it.

It certainly looked like a cast-off pattern to her, but there wasn’t a lot of it. And the pattern would indicate only a single blow from the killer.

“Tell me about the spatter found in Webb’s office months ago,” Lyla said to no one in particular.

It was Billy who answered. “There was blood on the windowsill, the nearby wall and the floor. It appeared as if someone had tried to clean it up.”

Interesting. Two areas of spatter and maybe someone had tried to conceal both. “Could the spatter have been caused by someone of your mother’s height?”

Billy hesitated, then nodded. “She’s about as tall as you are. Maybe a little shorter.”

“Well, I don’t think that’s consistent with your mother’s height.” She tipped her head to the droplets on Stella’s wall. “Or with Stella’s. Of course, I can’t be positive without actually examining it, but it looks as if this castoff was created by someone taller. Someone at least six feet.”

“Did you find any blood on the floor?” she asked the CSI who glanced in her direction.

He was young, and she didn’t know him, but maybe because she was standing in between a marshal and a Texas Ranger, he answered anyway with a head shake. “In fact, this is the only blood we’ve found in the room,” he added.

Since no one objected, Lyla tried a different question. “Can you determine how long ago the paint was put over the blood?”

“My guess is shortly afterward. It has the same amount of dust as the rest of the walls.”

So, if the blood was from the time of the murder, then someone had likely done a quick cover-up. Of course, that wouldn’t have been hard to do. From what she’d read, no one had reported Webb missing for a full day. Plenty of time for a paint job.

She looked back at Wyatt. “How many of your suspects are over six feet tall and how many of them would have had access to this room?”

“Not Stella. But Kirby. With the exception of my youngest brother, Declan, the rest of us were already that tall.”