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“And that little snip didn’t just scratch; she dug in her nails with a vengeance.” His words slammed back at him. “Fucking hell, push those thoughts out of your head, Sheriff Scott, and concentrate on the job. She’s nothing but a distraction. You know it... and it’ll be best not to forget it.”
But damn, it was difficult to get those pouty lips and the way she had stared at him out of his mind. The fascination she’d had for him had been as clear as day in her eyes. She hadn’t even attempted to hide it from him. The seductive invitation had been blatant.
“There you have it. Women like her are on your avoid like the plague list.”
Just like she wouldn’t like to be treated as a sex object, Carter also resented being used like a piece of meat. He had no interest in becoming a dick magnet... not even for someone as compelling as her.
County sheriff holding cell, Joaquin, Provo...
Carter stared at the man through the one-way window of the interrogation room. He sat fiddling with the cuffs where he was chained to the steel table.
“We need to solve this case, Tanya,” he said through clenched teeth. “Sooner rather than later, especially since it has been dragging on for over ten years.”
His office was currently conducting an investigation on the 2012 sex ring case, where charges related to sex abuse had been filed against a therapist. Two years later, they had been dismissed without prejudice. Since new victims were now making similar allegations, Carter had reopened the case. So far, in the ensuing investigation, they had discovered that other victims had previously reported similar forms of ritualistic sexual abuse and trafficking that occurred in Utah County, Juab County, and Sanpete County during the time between 1990 and 2010. He had already confirmed portions of those allegations.
“Let’s hope he has some information we can use, Sheriff. We seem to have hit a solid wall lately,” Tanya said, scanning the arrest report.
“Baker Cowell, forty-four years old, originally from Juab County. Apparently, he’s renting an RV at the Lakeside RV Campground. Been there since his arrival in Provo two years ago. Claims he’s a loner and has no friends or family.”
“Why is he here?”
“Drunk and disruptive behavior.” She handed him the folder. “I phoned you because the moment I logged his details, he was flagged as a sex offender in three states. That was an immediate red flag.”
“You did good, Tanya. For now, let the bastard sweat. Lock him in the holding cell. He’s useless in his current state. Fill his gut with coffee to sober him up. I’ll interrogate him in the morning.”
“Will do.”
“I’m going to use Sheriff Dutton’s office. I want to do some background checks on our perp.”
“You know you have an open invitation to use the office whenever you’re here.” She grinned. “If you need to use the computer, the password is—”
“On a sticky note stuck to the back of the keyboard.”
Carter joined in her laughter as he walked off. Minutes later, he read through pages of information gathered by various police departments and state institutions. The fact that not one of the charges laid against him had stuck or led to an arrest ever since he was listed as a sex offender stood out like a sore thumb.
Instinct warned Carter that Baker Cowell had friends in very high places.
“Yeah,” he sneered softly. “The kind of friends who are the brains behind this sex trade ring and have the money to cover up their tracks. Goddamn bastards!”
Chapter Three
Hines Mansion Bed & Breakfast, Provo, Utah...
“Ahh, sweet relief!” Daphne exclaimed as she stepped into the marble-tiled shower. The lukewarm water streamed down her body as it gently eased the tension of the long drive. She leaned back against the cool tiles and let out a blissful sigh as the water cascaded over her curves to soothe her weary muscles.
After a long day of sweating in the stuffy yellow bug, the shower was a heavenly respite. As steam filled the room, Daphne felt the day’s stickiness and heat wash away. She took her time, enjoying every minute of the water working its magic as it washed away the fatigue and refreshed her spirits.
Stepping out, she wrapped herself in a fluffy white towel. “Hmm, feels like home,” she said as she breathed in the cozy ambiance of the room. With a hearty glass of merlot, she curled up in the plush wingback chair by the window. Her gaze was contemplative as she gazed at the mountains silhouetted against the dusky sky.
Daphne’s thoughts meandered to the stern yet handsome sheriff who had pulled her over earlier.
“Oh, what a vexing knave he was. So serious and brooding, yet ‘twas passion I saw flashing in those eyes,” she murmured as she envisioned him in her mind.
“I’ll warrant that although his manner was brusque, underneath his stony façade lies a heart longing for an adventure in love,” she declared with a dramatic swoon. She sipped her wine, lost in daydreams about the mysterious sheriff.
As clever as Daphne was, she had a tendency to be overly dramatic. As far back as she remembered, she had always leaned toward using old-fashioned and medieval words and phrases. Something she had always been teased about at school. She, of course, had scoffed at the kids who made fun of her, saying it was because they didn’t understand what the words meant. Most of the time, that had been the truth.
“Hmm, Sheriff Scott... mayhap it’s time I learn a little more about you.” With renewed vigor, she unfurled her legs and picked up her laptop. With a pair of purple tortoise shell reading glasses perched on her nose, she logged in and typed his name in the search bar.
