Page 52 of Homicide in Water Creek

“I’ll leave the policework to you. I’m too tired to think.”

Arriving at the trailer, he helped her climb the stairs, and she unlocked the door. Once inside, he pulled the phone interceptor from his pocket and connected it to the digital recorder.

“Now what?” she asked, pointing at the devices as if they’d jump up and bite her.

“Now we wait,” he answered with a shrug. “If he calls someone or someone calls him, we’ll know. I should probably head to Granddaddy’s place to make sure he didn’t double back to check his house for the paperwork.”

Jacks held up her finger. “No need.” Grabbing her laptop, she opened it and pulled up the CCTV cameras. “We can’t see inside the bunkrooms, but we can see the front door. I get an alert whenever the sensor is tripped.” She clicked on the recording from the last fifteen minutes, and they watched as Chinos walked into the bunkhouse and slammed the door behind him.

“Guess he’s upset,” King said with a smirk. “Maybe he should stay out of other people’s houses.”

They kept watching, but Chinos didn’t reappear. “He’s probably in for the night, but to be on the safe side, leave it open so we can hear when everyone else gets back from the bar. How long until our grandaddies shoo everyone home?”

Jacks checked the clock. “About an hour.”

“I can do a lot in an hour,” he said, stripping off his gun belt and kicking off his boots.

She walked up to him and slid her hands up his chest once his vest was off. “What did you have in mind, Sheriff?”

“A hot shower, followed by a hot roll in the hay, followed by a hot meal.” He unbuttoned her flannel shirt slowly until it fell open, revealing a tight cami.

“I am hungry,” she growled as she pulled his shirt from his waistband. “Maybe we should take that hot shower together? We could make it a slow, comfortable screw up against the wall. We’d save water and time.”

“Environmentally friendly Jacks is a Jacks I like,” he agreed, turning her toward the bathroom. He nuzzled her neck as they walked, sending goosebumps across her skin.

Her laughter followed them down the hallway and filled his heart with the sound of forever. All he could do was pray that the man he’d just confronted wasn’t here to take his forever away.

Chapter Twenty-Two

The folder on his desk mocked him, but King wanted nothing to do with it. After Unita County went through Vonita’s luggage, they found a pile of paperwork. They didn’t know whether it pertained to the investigation, so they asked him to go through it. They thought he might understand it better, but King doubted it, since he had never known his mother.

Maybe there were answers in the folder, but it was equally possible there was nothing but heartache. All he wanted was to be back in bed with Jacks, snuggled together like nothing outside her door mattered. Nothing could be further from the truth. When he left her this morning, she was headed to the barn to take care of the horses before the sun was even up. Chinos hadn’t left the bunkhouse all night, and he hadn’t made or received a phone call. According to the last conversation King had overheard, tonight was the night Chinos had to pay the piper, but he had nothing to give. As expected, the two numbers he got from Chino’s phone were burners.

“Hey,” Maverick said, stopping in the doorway of his office. “This just showed up from a little town called Hollywood, California.” He shook an overnight mail envelope in his hand.

“I don’t want it. I have enough of Vonita’s business to handle.”

“You don’t even know what it is.”

“Maybe not, but it’s probably nothing good. It likely has something to do with this,” he said, motioning to the folder on his desk. The folder he still hadn’t opened. With a sigh, he motioned at the envelope in Maverick’s hand. “What’s the return address?” King held his breath, afraid he’d read out Vonita’s address.

“Crooke, Miller, and Tucker. Sounds like a law firm to me.” He tossed the letter onto King’s desk and tipped his hat back on his head.

Shoving it into the folder, he leaned back in his chair. “I’ll deal with it later. We have enough to worry about.”

“Did you get anything on the phone tap last night?” Maverick asked, sitting across from his desk.

“Nope. No calls were made or received on Owen’s phone, but I didn’t expect him to make the call until tonight. During the last call I overheard, his boss gave him two weeks to come up with something. His time is up tonight.”

“What about his prints?” Maverick asked. King could see the weight this situation was adding to Maverick’s plate as well. They were both tired, but until they could hire another deputy, they had no choice but to keep going.

“Nope,” King said, frustration evident in the single word. “The lab said all they got were smudges. Even his thumbs were smudged, which means they were probably burned, but not as bad as the tips of his fingers.”

“Do you think it was an accident or on purpose?” Maverick asked, a brow up.

“His missing fingers?” Maverick nodded. “According to what he told Jackson when he applied to the school, it was a work accident.”

Maverick shook his head in frustration. “I don’t know about you, but I have a feeling we need to put an end to this before all hell breaks loose.”