Texas Guardian, page 15
“She didn’t put a lot of time or effort into coming up with a false name. That tells me she’s impulsive. She probably has self-control problems, which suggests she may also have some addictions. Alcohol or smoking or maybe even something heavier. That also means she likely doesn’t spend a lot of time scouting out victims—she picks people she comes across, but doesn’t go out hunting like most serial killers.”
“She probably has the most encounters with people while she’s at work. Do you know if all the victims ate at the diner?” Ridge asked.
Trevor let out a small sigh. “Unfortunately, no. The manager looked through the receipts, and it turns out the second, fourth and fifth victims did eat there and paid with a credit card. But there doesn’t seem to be a connection between the diner and the other victims.”
“Maybe they paid in cash,” Ridge suggested.
“It’s possible. But I’ve been doing a little digging into victim number six, Francine Gibbons. She doesn’t strike me as the type of woman to eat at the Blackthorn Diner.”
“That’s true,” Ridge said. Trevor’s assessment certainly fit what Darcy had said earlier regarding Francine’s habits. That meant the killer must have come across her in another context. But where?
“I need to find out if Francine frequented the bar in Granite Gulch,” Trevor said, as if he was adding the task to a mental checklist of things to do.
“Wasn’t one of the victims found in the parking lot?” Ridge said.
Trevor nodded. “Victim number five, Erica Morgan. Witnesses said she’d gotten into an argument with a woman matching our suspect description prior to her murder.”
“We can ask Darcy,” Ridge said. “She knew Francine.”
“Were they good friends?” Trevor sounded hopeful.
“I don’t think so,” Ridge said, hating to burst his brother’s bubble. “But they did know each other and Darcy could probably give you an idea of the places Francine frequented on a regular basis. It might help you narrow down the locations shared by the other victims.”
“That would be nice. I feel like we’re chasing smoke here. We get close, but she somehow manages to slip through our fingers right before we can grab her.”
“We’ll get her,” Ridge said firmly.
Trevor gave him a sidelong glance. “I wish I shared your confidence.”
“She’ll slip up. Maybe not today, but she will eventually make a mistake. And we’ll be waiting to catch her.”
“Yeah, well I just hope that happens before any more people get killed.”
A terrible thought popped into Ridge’s head. “So far, she’s only killed one person for each letter of the alphabet, correct?”
“As far as we know, yes,” Trevor said. “Why?”
“The baby’s mom left a note signed with the letter F. We know Francine was not the baby’s mother, but since the woman still hasn’t turned up yet, I thought maybe the killer had done something to her, as well.”
Trevor frowned. “It’s not likely the killer would change her pattern so suddenly. Serial killers generally stick with what works for them.”
“But what if the baby’s mother interrupted the killer or somehow got in her way? She might not have been the primary target, but if she saw something she shouldn’t...” Ridge trailed off, letting his brother fill in the blanks. That was why their mother had died—she’d seen their father’s bloody clothes and the red marker he’d used to mark each victim. She’d made the mistake of insisting Matthew turn himself in and he’d killed her for her efforts. Was it possible the Alphabet Killer, so eager to follow in Matthew Colton’s footsteps, had done something similar?
“We haven’t found any other bodies,” Trevor pointed out, but his tone lacked conviction. They hadn’t found their mother’s body, either.
“I hope we don’t,” Ridge said. “But we’ve got no leads on the baby’s mother. It’s as if she doesn’t exist.”
“Chris hasn’t been able to dig up anything with his PI connections?”
Ridge shook his head. “Like I said, the woman’s a ghost.”
Trevor whistled softly. “That’s tough.”
“It breaks my heart to think about putting that little baby in the foster care system,” Ridge said, his stomach dropping as he imagined it. “It was bad enough when it happened to us, and we were older.”
Trevor was quiet for a moment, likely lost in his own memories of that time. Finally, he cleared his throat. “If it’s any consolation, she’ll probably be adopted quickly,” he said. “Everyone wants the babies.”
It was true. As older kids in the foster care system, it was one of the first lessons he and his siblings had learned. People wanted to adopt babies because they viewed them as blank slates full of possibility, with no bad habits or emotional baggage requiring attention. No one wanted to take a chance on older kids—it was too messy, too much work to forge a relationship with children who had already erected protective walls around their hearts.
It hadn’t taken long for Ridge to give up the hope of being adopted. Rather than brood over it, he’d focused on counting down the days until his eighteenth birthday when he’d be free of the system. But some of his younger siblings hadn’t been so quick to adjust. Especially Josie. She’d been only three years old when Matthew had killed their mother, which meant she’d spent the longest amount of time in the system. Was it any wonder she’d changed? Fifteen years of rejection was bound to affect a person.
He could still remember every detail of their last visit. Ridge had picked Josie up from school and taken her out for a milk shake. Strawberry-vanilla for her, chocolate for him. He’d waited until they were both enjoying the frozen treats before asking the question that had been weighing on his mind.
“Will you let me become your guardian?”
Josie froze, the spoon halfway to her mouth. She stared at him as if she didn’t understand the question, and he wondered if he should repeat it. He opened his mouth to do just that when she shoved the spoon back into her shake and pushed the glass away.
“No.” The word was quiet but firm and it was the exact opposite of what Ridge had expected her to say.
“No?” he repeated. “What do you mean, no?”
She tilted her head to the side and pinned him with a haughty glare. “You’re eighteen years old and you don’t know what the word no means?” She was baiting him, trying to start an argument about her attitude so he’d change the subject. It was a classic defensive move, one she’d employed time and again.
He wasn’t falling for it.
“I thought you wanted out of the system,” he said, forcing himself to take another sip of his shake. It tasted like chalk to him now, but he swallowed it, determined to pretend everything was normal. Disappointment was a crushing weight that made it hard to breathe, but he didn’t want Josie to know.
She shrugged. “It’s not that bad. The Carltons are nice people.”
“But they’re not your family.” The words were out before he could stop them, and he immediately wished them back. Josie’s gaze grew hard, making her look much older than her twelve years.
“They’re the closest thing I have to parents,” she said shortly. She pulled her glass back and attacked the shake with her spoon. “Why would I want to walk away from that?”
“I can take care of you,” he tried, hoping a different approach might work. The waitress approached to check on them and he waved her away, keeping his focus on Josie. He had to make her see how important this was. Matthew Colton had torn their family apart—it was time for them to put the pieces back together.
“Really? How are you going to do that?” she challenged. “You’re starting college in a few months. Where are we going to live—your dorm room?” She scoffed. “I don’t think so.”
Ridge took a deep breath. “I’m sharing a place with Christopher and Trevor. You’d live with us.”
“That sounds great,” she said sarcastically. “I’ve always wanted to share a bathroom with three guys.”
“We’ll make it work,” he said, ignoring her snarkiness. “Will you please at least consider it?”
Josie shook her head. “I don’t need to. My answer is no.”
“Why?”
She blinked at him, as if she hadn’t expected him to ask that question. “Because.”
“That’s not an answer,” he pointed out.
Her expression shifted, became closed off. “It’s the only one you’re going to get,” she replied.
Ridge waited for a moment, hoping the silence would drive her to elaborate. But it didn’t. She was too stubborn for that.
She went back to eating her milk shake, acting as though she didn’t have a care in the world. Ridge put his spoon down, unable to stomach another bite. This hadn’t gone at all the way he’d planned.
He’d spent hours picturing this moment. Josie was supposed to be thrilled with his offer. She was supposed to jump at the chance to leave the foster care system and live with her brothers. Never in his wildest dreams had Ridge imagined her inflexible, knee-jerk refusal. Had she even considered the question before shooting him down?
“Your shake is melting,” she pointed out, as if she hadn’t just wrecked his carefully crafted plans for putting the family back together.
“I’m not hungry anymore,” he said dully.
She shrugged and pulled his glass across the table, digging in to the half-melted shake in a businesslike manner.
“What?” she asked, catching his stare. “It’s bad luck to waste chocolate.”
“Josie—” he began, but she cut him off.
“No. And don’t ask me again.”
He hadn’t, and not long after, Josie had cut off all communication with him. He had tried to call, had written letters. Hell, he would have used smoke signals if it had meant getting through to her. But she’d never responded to any of his attempts to reach out.
And then one day she was gone.
“Ridge?” Something touched his leg and he jumped, driving a fresh spike of pain into his knee.
Trevor was watching him, his brows drawn together in concern. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” Ridge shook the memories off. There was no sense in reliving the past—nothing was going to change. He glanced around, recognizing the parking lot of the hospital. “We’re here.”
“That’s right,” Trevor said, employing the kind of encouraging, helpful tone one used when potty training a small child. Ridge glared at him. “Is that really necessary?”
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Trevor asked. “You checked out on me there for a while. Did you get hit in the head and not tell me?”
“No. I was just thinking.”
“Hmm.” Trevor pulled the keys out of the ignition and opened the door. “Try not to do that until we get inside. Don’t want you to hurt yourself. You’re too big for me to carry.”
Ridge made a crude gesture in his brother’s direction, but Trevor only laughed. “Come on,” he said, rounding the hood and opening the passenger door. He offered the support of his arm, but Ridge ignored him. Each step was torture, but he’d be damned before he leaned on Trevor. His brother would never let him hear the end of it if he used him as a crutch.
Penny walked beside him, slowing her gait to match his labored strides. She would have been happier at home, but he didn’t want to risk leaving her there alone. Dennis was still out there and was probably very angry at the way things had turned out. There was no telling what he’d do to get back at Ridge for ruining his plans—he had a reputation as a mean drunk.
Ridge stopped as a new thought struck him. What if the Alphabet Killer had nothing to do with Sara’s mother? What if she had disappeared because she’d refused to give Dennis what he wanted, and he’d taken out his anger on her?
“Do you need a wheelchair?” Trevor’s question broke into his thoughts and Ridge realized they were still in the parking lot.
“No. I’m good. Say, do you think Dennis Hubbard may have something to do with the disappearance of the baby’s mother?”
Trevor tilted his head to the side, considering the question. “It’s possible. You think he approached her for the baby first and when she didn’t hand her over he lost his temper?”
“Something like that,” Ridge said. “It makes sense. How else would he know where to look for the baby? The mother had to tell him where she’d stashed the little one.” He had a sudden vision of a young woman, her eyes red-rimmed and her cheeks streaked with tears as she begged Dennis not to hurt her.
“And if Dennis went too far...” He let the suggestion trail off. “Well, it’s no wonder she hasn’t come back to claim her child.”
Trevor nodded. “It’s a solid theory,” he said. “Now we just need to figure out where Dennis might have stashed her body, if he did in fact kill her.”
Ridge shook his head. “I’ll let you and your team work on that. I have no desire to learn more about him and his habits.” Especially if Trevor’s suggestion was correct—was Dennis really trying to sell Sara on the black market? If so, was this his first time, or was he an old pro at stealing children from vulnerable women and turning a profit on the misery of other people? The thought made his stomach heave, and he swallowed hard to clear the foul burn of bile from the back of his throat. Just how extensive was this shadow network?
He picked up his pace, ignoring the protests of his knee. The possibilities of human trafficking, the foster system and the death of Sara’s mother swirled together in his head, creating a black storm of thoughts that made him anxious to see the baby. He needed to hold her, to feel her little body against his chest and know on a visceral level that she was truly okay. The world had turned into a very scary place, and he wanted to wrap her up tight and shield her from the evils of life for as long as he could.
He hadn’t been able to protect Josie, and the knowledge that he had failed her haunted him to this day. He was determined not to make the same mistake again.
Chapter 12
Darcy thumped softly on the baby’s back, swaying back and forth as she stood in the middle of the exam room.
“I know you’ve got a burp in there,” she said quietly. “Give it up, little one.”
The baby let out a sigh and started to squirm against Darcy’s shoulder. Darcy kept patting, knowing if she didn’t get the baby to burp after feeding she would spit up once Darcy laid her down. Having just tackled a soiled diaper, Darcy didn’t fancy cleaning up another mess so soon.
There was a soft knock at the door and a nurse entered. “Test results,” she said, passing them over.
Darcy scanned the information, relieved to see everything was normal. The baby was probably just fighting off a virus, and since her temperature was now under control, there wasn’t much more to be done.
“Thank you,” she said.
The nurse smiled back at her. “I’m glad everything looks good,” she said.
“Me, too,” Darcy replied.
The baby chose that moment to let out a belch, as if to add her two cents to the conversation. “Good job,” Darcy said, surprised to find she was genuinely pleased. Since when had she gotten so excited over a baby burping? A week ago she probably wouldn’t have cared all that much, but being around Ridge and this baby had changed her perspective on a lot of things.
The thought of Ridge made her heartbeat pick up. He’d been gone awhile, certainly long enough for him to make it home. Had the masked intruder taken the bait and tried to attack again? Had Ridge been able to get the information he needed out of the man? Most importantly, was Ridge okay?
The baby wriggled and let out a soft whimper, and Darcy realized she was squeezing her little body too tightly. She relaxed her grip and laid the baby back in the hospital crib, tucking a blanket over her to ward off the chill of the room. Then she started pacing, trying hard not to imagine Ridge unconscious on the floor of his cabin.
Or worse.
“He’s fine,” she told herself firmly. Ridge Colton was a large, strong man. The chances of someone overpowering him were very small.
But he was a little banged up from the earlier attacks, her nerves helpfully pointed out. What if the blow to his head or the jab to his ribs had hurt him more than he’d let on? It would be so like him to pretend he was fine when he was in pain. Had she been fooled by his act and missed the true extent of his injuries?
“Doctor of the year, that’s me,” she muttered, working to keep her fears from taking over. Ridge had trusted her to keep the baby safe, and she couldn’t do that if she let her emotions rule. Besides, he was probably going to stroll through that door any minute now, flush with the triumph of his victory over the mystery intruder.
Yep. Any minute now.
She stared at the door, willing it to open. Come on, Ridge, she pleaded silently. Where are you?
The door offered no response, so she went back to pacing. I could call him, she thought. Then she shook her head, dismissing the idea almost as quickly as it had come. If Ridge was in the middle of an encounter with the intruder, she didn’t want to distract him. But she could call Sam and fish for an update. After all, Ridge had only asked her to take care of the baby. He hadn’t said anything about leaving his brother alone...
She dug her phone out of her purse and started to dial, but was distracted by the sound of raised voices outside.
“Sir, you can’t bring a dog in here!”
Darcy rushed to the door and threw it open, just in time to see a tall, dark-haired man help Ridge onto a gurney. Penny sat at the foot of the bed, alert and watchful, totally oblivious to the protests of one of the nurses.
“It’s okay, Linda,” she called out. “Penny is a service dog.”
The woman clamped her mouth shut and nodded, but didn’t look happy about the presence of a dog in the ER. A few days ago Darcy would have felt the same way. But after seeing Penny work to protect Ridge and the baby, Darcy was willing to throw the dog a ticker tape parade if it would make her happy.
