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“That’s right, I remember him.” Jackson hovered near her shoulder. “He accepted a plea deal. Either way, he’s obviously not the one who fired at us.”

“So maybe Zane Cartland.” She dug into him, interested to see the guy had done two years for selling drugs five years ago. She stared at his face, trying to align it with her memory of the two men who’d stood outside her uncle’s cabin. “Jackson, what do you think? Isn’t he one of the gunmen?”

Jackson leaned in close enough that if she turned her head, her lips would brush his cheek. No kissing, she silently reminded herself.

“He could be,” Jackson finally said, straightening. “I’m not sure I could swear to it in court, but his basic weight and height fits.”

She continued searching on Zane Cartland. The guy was younger than Fletcher, at twenty-six. Too young to have been involved with her Uncle Mark.

His driver’s license photo bloomed on the screen. She gasped when she noticed his last known address was right here in Temple, Texas. “Jackson, check this out. Cartland lives in a house that’s only a few miles from the trailer park.” She looked at the expiration date on the license, knowing many people didn’t bother to update their driver’s license with a new address until they had to. “Well, at least according to this, which is four years old.”

“That’s interesting.” He once more leaned over her shoulder. His warm breath caressed her cheek. “We need to check it out.”

“Or we could ask the local law enforcement to do that,” Creed pointed out dryly.

“We could, but I’d like to see the guy for myself.” Jackson straightened. “Maybe if I see him up close I’ll recognize him as one of the guys outside Mark Lange’s cabin.”

“Sounds good to me.” She kept her gaze on the screen, ignoring Jackson’s warm presence beside her. “As soon as our clothes are dry, we can head over to check it out.” She stared at Zane Cartland’s address, wondering if they were on to something.

Was Cartland the gunman who’d been on the fishing boat, trying to finish the job? Or a guy who once ran with a rough crowd but had since turned his life around?

There was only one way to know for sure. She shivered, trying not to focus too much on the danger. She had faith in Jackson and Creed.

And prayed that God would continue to protect them.

* * *

Jackson stood behind Nina, struggling to remain objective. He wanted nothing more than to swing by Zane Cartland’s address, but he also didn’t want Nina anywhere near the possible gunman. Glancing at Creed, he wondered if he could convince Creed to stay back with Nina so he could approach the place alone.

Knowing Creed, he’d never agree.

“Wait a minute.” Nina went back to the computer. “Wasn’t there a Cartland in my dad’s high school yearbook?”

He frowned. “So what if there is? It’s not an uncommon name. I don’t see why that matters.”

“It might not.” Her gaze never wavered from the computer screen. “Yep, here he is. Robert Cartland. And he had a younger brother in my mom’s class, too. His name was Daniel. I remember seeing it because his photograph was right next to Ellen Carter’s name.”

“You think either Robert or Daniel Cartland is Zane’s father?” Jackson glanced at Creed, who shrugged. “I’m not sure that’s enough to assume he’s involved in this.”

“I get that, but doesn’t it make sense to rule out a possible connection?” Nina gestured to the screen. “There’s a slight family resemblance.”

Jackson wasn’t sure he agreed but had to admit that a known associate of Fletcher should be considered a possible suspect. “Yeah, okay. We were going to check him out anyway.”

“Good. Maybe I’m wrong, but I can’t help but wonder if Ellen Carter knew Daniel. Maybe they even dated.” Nina rose to her feet. “I think the dryer just shut off.”

Jackson padded down the hall behind her. A few minutes later, she thrust his warm from the dryer clothes into his arms. “Thanks,” he said.

“You’re welcome.” She held his gaze for a moment, but then quickly turned away, disappearing into her room to change.

When Jackson was dressed, he found Creed talking to a detective from the Temple Police Department in the kitchen. Nina joined them a few minutes later.

They were forced to repeat the same statements they’d given to the officers on scene, before being cleared to leave. Even then the detective wanted Creed’s weapon. Creed refused to relinquish the gun, stating he’d have it to the officers by Monday. The detective wasn’t happy, but Creed and Jackson pulled rank, stating their boss would follow up with his boss.

In the garage, Jackson double-checked his license plate alteration on the SUV before they piled in with their laptops.

“Okay, let’s do a quick drive-by past Cartland’s house,” Jackson said as Creed sneaked the SUV past the officers still lingering outside. Jackson noticed Fletcher’s body was gone, obviously transported to the closest morgue.

“What’s the address?” Creed asked. “Not far from the trailer park?”