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“The woman who lives with him was at Pappy’s this morning. She ran last night, the guy followed her through the woods, and Pappy shot him.”
Tommy whistled and rubbed a palm over his smooth baby face. “Dang. Things keep getting messier.”
A mosquito landed on Owen’s forearm and the tiny pinch of its bite pieced his skin. He swatted it and grabbed his car keys from his pocket. “We all know what we need to do.”
Mike hesitated and darted his gaze from Owen to Tommy and back again. “You want Tommy working alone on this?”
Tension filled the heated air. Their sheriff’s department was too small for Owen to have the luxury of a partner but sending Tommy out on his own caused apprehension to squeeze his gut. He didn’t want to micromanage Tommy, but partnering the boy up with someone with experience would be beneficial—it would keep Owen from worrying about his brother and help his brother learn.
“I’m not a child.” Tommy ground out the words through clenched teeth.
“You don’t want to work with me on this?” Owen tilted his head to the side and studied his brother as an idea formed.
An idea he had no doubt Tommy would hate.
Tommy ran a hand through his sandy blonde hair, sending the strands to stick straight into the air. “I didn’t say that. I just mean I don’t need my big brother looking after me. I know how to do my job.”
“No one’s saying you don’t,” Mike said. “But this is a big case and the first one you’ve worked. Having someone with a little more experience could benefit you.”
Tommy opened his mouth, but Owen jumped in before he could get out any words. “I agree. I’d tell you to come with me, but we each have our own line to tug, and I can’t waste time checking in. I think you and Dad should team up. Ride together, bounce ideas off each other, and keep me posted if anything comes up.”
Red stained Tommy’s cheeks, and he fisted his hands at his sides.
If the situation wasn’t so serious, Owen would laugh at how many times the boy’s coloring could change in five minutes.
“I don’t need a babysitter.”
“Not saying you do. But you could use the help.” Owen locked gazes with Tommy, then Mike, before he continued. “And I don’t need to waste any more time discussing this.”
“Where are you going?” Mike adjusted his hat and pulled his keys from his front pocket.
“Safe Haven Women’s Shelter. I need to talk to Marie. I need to find out everything I can about this guy, and she’s the only link we have. If you two discover anything useful, call me.”
Mike nodded and Tommy grunted, then followed their dad toward his cruiser.
Owen watched them go. He’d either made a brilliant move by putting them together, or they’d kill each other before nightfall.
Opening his car door, he sat on the scorching leather and started the engine. Air poured from the vents, and even though it wasn’t cold yet, the artificial gust of wind was far better than the heat outside. Anticipation zipped through him as he maneuvered out of the lane. He needed to speak with Marie. She may have the answers he needed to catch a killer.
An image of her full lips and wide green eyes flashed in his brain, and his groin tightened. He didn’t doubt she was in trouble, but he couldn’t help but wonder how she’d found herself in such a desperate situation—twice. She didn’t fit the profile of most abused women he came across. Marie had secrets, and he planned on uncovering all of them.
6
Butterflies danced in the pit of Marie’s stomach, keeping rhythm with the ticking of the clock in the sitting room. Lunch in the pretty kitchen with the friendly company had been nice and not nearly long enough, cut short by a call from Deputy Wells. He needed to speak with her and was on his way to do so in person.
She pressed a hand to her belly, willing the frantically flapping wings to stop before she threw up. Speaking with the handsome deputy was her only way to help find Bill. The only way to help get justice for a young woman who was killed and tossed in the river like yesterday’s trash.
The pool of blood from her living room invaded her mind’s eye. Her gut told her Bill knew she witnessed him kill the woman he’d brought home last night. Would he still come after her if the police were after him?
Absolutely.
It would be reckless and stupid, but he wouldn’t just let her walk away. Especially if he thought she saw what he’d done. He’d drag her down with him or die trying. And if he escaped, then he’d go after her family.
A soft knock echoed from the front of the house, followed by murmuring voices and the opening and closing of a door and the sound of footsteps on old wood. Anxiety ricocheted through her.
Owen peeked around the doorframe and lifted a hand in greeting.
Laura stood beside him.
