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NINETEEN
Zeke entered his office two days later to find the coronerJay Adams’s report on Callie Walker’s death. Joe and Jaime’s grandmother hadn’t died accidently. The blow she had received on the head had been delivered by a blunt object rather than the side of the bathtub as it had been made to appear.
The blow could have been fatal in time, but the cause of death had been drowning as she lay in the bathtub.
He read the report before breathing out roughly and shaking his head. The coroner had released the bodies for burial, and Lisa Walker had been notified.
He rubbed his hand over his head before taking the file and locking it in the file cabinet.
Joe and Jaime, and then their grandmother. A woman tied them together and Zeke was no closer to figuring out who that woman was than he had been the day of the twins’
deaths, just as he, Cranston, or the Mackays were no closer to finding the killer.
He’d questioned everyone he could think of to question. Even the Mackays had come up blank on the woman’s identity. That didn’t make sense. Pulaski County wasn’t that large. It thrived on gossip as any small county did. Zeke bet he knew every lover, potential lover, or wannabe lover that Joe and Jaime could have had in their sexual lives. All but one. The one that had led to their deaths.
Or had she been the one to commit the murders?
The twins’ phone records had revealed very little. They had no cell phones, so there were no records to trace there. There was just nothing left to go on except his gut-deep certainty that all three murders were linked.
At this point, there wasn’t much more he could do without any leads. Lisa Walker had called earlier, informing him that she would be returning home unless he was close to an arrest. She had things to take care of, and her sons’ father wanted the boys back in town. Lisa still had family here, too, her job, a life. She couldn’t stay away indefinitely.
That was an additional worry. Whoever had killed the twins and their grandmother, Callie Walker, wouldn’t hesitate to kill again. He had a feeling the murderer might have even enjoyed the elaborate game that had been made of the deaths, just as Cranston had suggested.
A knock at his office door had him moving from the file cabinet back to his desk as the door opened and his secretary peeked in.
“Zeke, you have a visitor. ” Kendal Birchfield arched her expressive brows as her blue eyes twinkled with amusement. “Mr. John Calvin Walker Jr. requests a few moments of your time. ”
Zeke’s brows arched. John Calvin Walker Jr. It couldn’t be anyone other than Calvin Walker’s son.
Zeke grinned as he took his seat. “I have a few minutes, Kendal. Show him in. ”
Kendal winked back at him playfully before closing the door. A few seconds later it opened it again and Mr. John Calvin Walker Jr. entered the room.
Zeke wasn’t certain what he was expecting in the form of Rogue’s brother. A polished Bostonian lawyer, perhaps. John Walker was known as a lawyer with teeth. He was picky about the cases he took, but the ones he took he rarely lost. Zeke’s contacts in D. C.
had placed the younger man as an up-and-coming political force to be watched.
It wasn’t the first impression Zeke had of him though. John Walker was dressed in jeans, a rumpled white cotton shirt, and well-worn boots. Zeke would have pegged him for a California surfer boy.
“Sheriff Mayes. ” Violet blue eyes were set behind thick blond lashes in a sun-darkened face. Overly long white blond hair fell almost to his shoulders and framed hard, slashing features.
The boy looked a lot like the father had when he was younger, except Calvin Walker had sported red hair rather than blond and had been broader, more muscular, where John Walker was leaner.
His handshake was firm and hinted at strength. His gaze was cool and determined, and Zeke understood why his contacts in D. C. foresaw a political future for this young man.
Zeke saw something that perhaps they didn’t though. He saw a decided lack of true deception in the other man’s eyes.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Walker?” Zeke held his hand out to the visitor’s chair in front of his desk as he took his own seat.
John Walker sat, though he slouched with lazy negligence.
“So, you’re the sheriff sleeping with my baby sister. ” John’s smile was tight and hard. “I was wondering what had Jonesy so worked up about you. I understand now. ”
Zeke leaned back in his chair and arched his brow. “Last I heard Rogue was over twenty-one. ”
John’s eyes narrowed. “Caitlyn,” he corrected softly. “And she may be over twenty-one, but you, Sheriff Mayes, are nearly old enough to be her father. ”
Zeke stared back at him implacably, refusing to be drawn into whatever fight the younger Walker thought he was getting ready to start.
