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“I guess you’re right.”
She always was. He would do well never to forget that.
Chapter 15
Spencer parked his patrol car that sunny Monday afternoon inside the community of pricey condos in the city’s industrial zone. Light brick exteriors, manicured lawns and a view of the mountains to die for, the neighborhood was an odd fit for Mustang Valley. Still, as a haven for young professionals who worked during the day, it was the only spot in town where a parade of officers in marked patrol cars could serve a search warrant in broad daylight.
As if on cue three other vehicles—most of his department’s fleet—pulled in behind his car, and the officers approached him.
“You ready for this?” Senior Detective P.J. Doherty said when he approached him.
“I’m more than ready to have a break in this case. Aren’t you?”
“Oh, you know we are,” Junior Detective Kerry Wilder answered for the both of them, while tucking a stray strand of long red hair back under her hat.
“Especially you,” P.J. said to Kerry, his impish grin in full force. “You have to be sick of investigating reports involving that branch of the Coltons. Have you reconsidered your decision to marry into that family?”
“Rafe isn’t like Payne. And no.”
Spencer blew out a breath. “Now that we have that settled, can we serve this warrant before Harley Watts comes out of his darkened computer room and tries to escape out his back door?”
“How do you know it’s dark?” she asked.
“Just a guess.”
A pretty good one, he figured. With as much time as Watts had been spending online to post his ramblings on social media, dotted a few times with references to Colton Oil, he couldn’t have been typing in a bright space. Too much glare would cause eye strain.
Officers Lizzie Manfred and James Donovan joined him next to his car. All checked their Kevlar vests and their weapons.
“Now, none of Watts’s convictions were for violent crimes, right?” James asked as he adjusted his duty belt.
Spencer shook his head. “Just financial. Identity theft and such with his techie skills, but still felonies.”
It was a good thing that he had those convictions, though. Without them and Watts’s parolee status, they never would have been able to get a warrant, based on his online comments alone. Free speech and all.
With weapons drawn, three of them carefully approached the front door. Lizzie and James covered the back. Kerry took the lead.
She pounded on the front door. “Mustang Valley Police. Open up.”
Nothing. They waited for several seconds, listening closely for movement inside. Still nothing.
“You think he isn’t home?” P.J. asked.
“Our research shows he’s online at various times throughout the day and night,” Kerry said. “Maybe he just isn’t answering.”
Just then, footsteps came from inside.
“What do you want?” a voice called from the other side of the door.
Kerry spoke in a tone just above a speaking voice. “Mustang Valley Police Department. Mr. Watts, we need you to open up.”
“Nah. I don’t think so. I know my rights. Not without a warrant.”
“Well, you’re in luck since that’s just what we have.”
A pasty-skinned, twentysomething, with brown hair in need of a trim and black, plastic-rimmed glasses, yanked open the door. “What the hell for? This is police harassment.”
Instead of addressing his accusation, Kerry held out the folded sheet to him so he could see for himself.
