Colton Under Fire Page 9

  Trey responded quickly, “It’s not about money. It’s about safety.”

  “I know that,” Daria snapped. She exhaled hard and continued more calmly, “But politics matter in this town. And when the Coltons are involved, it’s political.”

  Liam winced. She was not wrong.

  Daria continued, “Tell you what. I’ll put the word out in the sheriff’s office to be on high alert, if you’ll put the same word out—quietly—in the RSPD. If you guys need extra manpower to beef up your patrols, maybe add drive-bys of the homes of single women in town who fit the possible MO, let me know.”

  “Will do,” Liam answered.

  He stopped speaking as a waitress set down a cup of black coffee in front of him. He took a long pull of the cup of rich, roasted brew.

  When the waitress had moved out of earshot, Liam continued, “I have to go to Denver on other business. I thought I’d stop by the Denver PD and ask them to share their file on April Thomas with us. I’ll ask if there’s anything not in the file that we should be aware of.”

  Daria winced. “Like whether or not she might have gotten into the high-end escort business like Bianca did?”

  He sighed. “Yeah. That.” He didn’t begrudge women a living as sex workers if that was the only or best way they could make ends meet. However, even in the best of circumstances, it could still be a dangerous and violent business.

  “You’ll let me know what you find out?” Daria asked.

  “Of course.”

  “Thanks for the heads up, Liam.”

  “No problem. Coffee’s on me, this time.”

  Daria lifted her chin. “Next cup’s on me.”

  “Let’s hope you have better news for me next time.”

  They traded grim looks. Both of their guts were clearly screaming the exact same warning at them. A serial killer had come to Roaring Springs.

  Chapter 7

  Sloane wasn’t sure who was happiest to be home, her or Chloe. Little Bug was exhausted and weak from her ordeal but still ran into her bedroom and flopped on her bed, laughing with joy to be back with all her stuffed toy friends. Sloane smiled as her child said hello to each and every one and asked how they were doing and if they had missed her.

  Liam had said the camera in Chloe’s room was in the corner over the doorway. Sloane almost glanced up at it as she tucked Chloe in for a nap, but at the last second forced herself to look out the door into the hallway.

  As she headed into her own bedroom, she ordered herself in advance not to look up into the corner over her dresser. She ducked into her closet to grab clean clothes and then went into her bathroom for a much needed soak in her big, old-fashioned tub. Even knowing there were no cameras in here, she felt nervous and exposed as she stripped down and climbed into the tub.

  She poured in a big glob of bubble bath and ran the water until the bubbles piled up around her neck, concealing all of her. Ugh. This business of living under surveillance was harder than she’d realized it would be.

  She let the hot water soothe her tired muscles and frayed nerves, lingering until the water was tepid, dreading having to face the cameras once more.

  Finally, when she was shivering in the cold water, she forced herself out of the tub and quickly wrapped herself in a big towel. She had to get control of this paranoia. She was safe in here and had nothing to hide from. She could do this. And if it would help Liam nail Ivan once and for all, she would parade through her house stark naked.

  The next few days passed quietly. Chloe got progressively more antsy being housebound, and Sloane became progressively more aware that she was smothering her child. Part of it was fear over a relapse of Chloe’s illness, but part of it was knowing those blasted cameras were watching her baby girl’s every move.

  Finally, she called Wyatt’s fiancée, Bailey, to ask if Chloe could come out and spend the night at the Crooked C. Chloe dearly loved playing outside there and visiting the horses. Bailey, eager to get some parenting practice in, agreed readily.

  Sloane and Chloe drove out to the Crooked C on a mild, sunny day that hinted of the springtime still some months away. Sloane walked through the barn with the toddler, who insisted on feeding a piece of carrot to every single horse down the aisle, scratching their fuzzy necks and petting their velvet noses.

  For dinner, Bailey baked a big casserole of homemade macaroni and cheese, a Little Bug favorite. Then the three of them settled in to watch a princess movie.

  Chloe dozed off, but when the adults tried to stop the movie, she woke up and demanded to see the ending. Sloane and Bailey smiled over her head at each other and indulged her. Sloane was just glad Chloe was here to insist on torturing the adults with a movie they’d all seen a hundred times.

  She smoothed Chloe’s hair affectionately. She simply couldn’t imagine life without her. Not now, and not fifty years from now. That poor woman in Liam’s office yesterday whose daughter went missing—Sloane shuddered to even imagine that kind of pain and heartache.

  “You okay?” Bailey murmured over Chloe’s droopy head and half-closed eyes.

  “Yeah. I was just thinking about how much I love this munchkin.”

  Bailey’s hand landed on her own belly, where a baby of her own was growing at long last. “I already love this kiddo, and I haven’t even met him or her, yet.”

  Sloane smiled knowingly. “In a few more months, your baby will start to show its personality, even in there. This little extrovert used to love to jump up and down on my bladder, and the noisier an environment I was in, the more active she became. It was clear from the get-go she was going to be the life of the party.”

  Bailey smiled gently. “I can’t wait.” Then, “Have you considered having another child?”

  Sloane wrinkled her nose. “Another child would be fine. But not the man who’d come with it.”

  “You don’t have to be in a relationship to have a baby, you know.”

  “Yeah? Then why did you go back to Wyatt to ask him to help you have a baby?”

  Bailey’s cheeks pinkened. “It was complicated.”

  “Apparently!” Sloane grinned over at her friend. “But you’re happy now?”

  “Blissfully. I can’t imagine life being any better than it is now.”

  Sloane laughed quietly. “Wait till your baby is born. There’s a whole next level of love you haven’t even discovered yet.”

  “Wyatt and I are looking forward to that. He’s really excited about this baby.”

  Sloane’s smile slipped. What would it have been like to share the thrill of her pregnancy with Ivan? Well, not with Ivan. He wasn’t capable of loving anyone but himself. But with a man who actually loved her and loved the child they made together? “I’m so happy for you two.”

  “You need to find a decent guy, Sloane. One who will treat you right and take care of you.”

  “I don’t need anyone to take care of me.”

  Bailey shrugged. “I don’t need anyone to take care of me, either, but it’s sure nice to have someone who wants to, and who will let me take care of him, sometimes.”

  Yes. That. But her first priority was to Chloe. Besides...finding a good man would involve actually trusting one again. Which was not likely anytime soon.

  Liam’s face flashed into her mind in counterpoint to that mental assertion. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Liam, but he didn’t count. He was an old friend from well before she’d learned that men could have treacherous hearts under their charming smiles.

  Correction: Liam was an old friend who’d kissed her.

  And she’d kissed him back.

  Did that mean he wasn’t just a friend anymore? Or would they settle into some friends-with-benefits limbo because she was incapable of committing to another relationship that might destroy her the next time around?

  Liam was a great guy. He deserved better than tha
t.

  In the cold light of day, with the crisis of Chloe’s health off the table, she saw things more clearly. She genuinely liked Liam. Found him attractive, even. The guy was smoking hot, after all. And he was, indeed, a good man. She loved his directness and the way he cut through to the heart of a matter and laid it bare.

  If she really cared for him, she would cut him loose. Let him have a chance at finding love with a woman who could fully return his feelings.

  Truth was, she was too broken inside for love. The only love she had left inside was for Chloe, and she’d decided to pour her entire self and soul into that.

  Bailey picked up Chloe, and immediately, the toddler woke up, interested and alert. Sloane and Bailey smiled and shook their heads at each other.

  “How about a bubble bath, Squirt?” Bailey asked.

  “Dubbuh bubbuhs?” Chloe asked eagerly.

  “Sure. Double bubbles.”

  Chloe squealed with excitement. Sloane had seen the results of a bubble bath with Auntie Bailey, and it involved mountains of bubbles and the entire bathroom and everyone in it becoming sopping wet.

  “That’s my cue to flee the scene of the crime before I’m implicated,” Sloane laughed.

  Bailey and Chloe laughingly declared Sloane no longer needed, and Bailey jogged down the hall toward the bathroom, bouncing Chloe up and down while Little Bug giggled in delight.

  Smiling, Sloane headed home. She had big plans for her first night home alone since she’d moved into the new house. She was taking a bath of her own, but with bath salts, candles and soothing music. And then she was going to bed. If she didn’t soak too long, she could be in bed by nine o’clock. Which sounded like pure heaven after the week she’d just had.

  She stepped through the front door, and the weight of being watched landed on her shoulders like a truckload of bricks. Lord, she would be happy when the police figured out who’d planted those cameras and could remove them.

  The Denver police were doing surveillance on the house where the signals were going. Liam reported that no one had been seen entering the house since they’d started watching it. Whoever was watching the feed was either forwarding it remotely to some other location or only checked the video occasionally. Liam was working on a search warrant for the Denver house, and that should come through any day now.

  Sloane smiled fondly at the mess in the living room and picked up toys, put away games and folded blankets. She was just closing the lid of the big toy chest when a slight movement made her look up at the side window about six feet away to her left.

  A man was staring in at her.

  Sloane screamed and started so hard that she knocked herself flat onto her behind. Scrambling in panic, she leaped to her feet.

  The man’s face was gone.

  Oh, God. Was he coming in?

  She was so freaked out she couldn’t draw a full breath.

  But there was no doubt whatsoever that she’d seen a face in the shadows. She yanked out her cell phone, her hands shaking so bad she could hardly dial 911.

  “What’s the nature of your emergency?”

  “There’s a...man looking in...in my window. I’m at 217 Maple Street...”

  “The police are on their way, ma’am. A cruiser should be there in approximately ten minutes. Go into your bathroom and lock the door.”

  No way! There was a window in the bathroom! “I’m leaving,” she gasped.

  Sloane’s need to flee was so overpowering that she’d actually been running around her house collecting her car keys from the kitchen counter, and her coat off the rack, as she’d been trying to speak to the emergency operator.

  “Ma’am. The person may still be outside—”

  Panic won out over reason. She was not staying in this house one minute more. Her hip banged painfully into the kitchen counter and she bounced off of it and kept going. Must get out of here!

  She bolted into her garage. She opened her SUV’s door and frantically examined the back seat and cargo area to make sure no one was in her car before she climbed in. Then she jumped inside and locked the doors.

  Okay. That felt a little better.

  She simultaneously started the car and hit the garage door opener. As soon as the door was far enough up to clear, she gunned her SUV out of the garage, roared backward down her driveway and sped away.

  Her heart was pounding so hard it hurt, and she was so panicked her brain couldn’t seem to form coherent thoughts. She turned the corner hard. She took another corner a few blocks later without warning, slamming her vehicle into the turn without signaling and hardly braking.

  She realized which street she was on with a start. Peering at mailboxes in the dark, while driving, was a challenge, but she spotted Liam’s address.

  She pulled into the driveway of a modest but neat white bungalow with a porch at least as wide and welcoming as hers. Liam had said something about living in the apartment over the garage.

  She spied a big detached garage behind the house, and she drove right up to it. On one side of the structure was an exterior staircase, and she raced up that, pounding frantically on the door.

  Be home. Be home. Be home—

  The door opened and she flew into Liam’s arms, knocking him back a step as he caught her weight against his body in surprise.

  “What’s wrong?” he bit out. “Is it Chloe?”

  “No. She’s at the ranch. There was a man looking in my window—”

  He started to disengage from her. “I have to call the police—”

  “I already called 911. But I couldn’t stay and wait for that man to come inside and kill me. Oh, God. It was awful. I looked up and there he was in my window in the dark. He looked so sinister...”

  She shuddered and buried her head against Liam’s chest.

  And then it dawned on her that said chest was bare. And muscular. And warm. And chest hairs tickled her nose. He smelled clean and slightly damp like he’d just taken a shower.

  The arms wrapped around her were strong. Really strong. With big, bulging biceps only a few inches from her face. She knew he’d filled out, but she had no idea he’d filled out this much. Dang. He was serious eye candy.

  “What did the 911 operator say?” Liam asked.

  “She said a cruiser would be there in ten minutes.”

  “Did you leave the house unlocked?”

  “Of course not!” Sloane exclaimed.

  Liam bent down slightly, taking her with him, and then a strong arm swept behind her knees and lifted her off her feet. With swift strides, he carried her across the one-room studio and deposited her on a sofa. He pulled a thick plaid wool blanket off the back of the couch and draped it over her, then set the television remote beside her on the armrest.

  “Stay here where you’ll be safe. I’m going over to your place to help the uniforms look around. Do you have your house keys, and will you give us permission to enter and search the premises?”

  “Yes, and yes.” Sloane held up her car’s key fob with a loop of keys attached to it. “That brass one is the house key.”

  “I’ll come back as soon as I can. But it may take a while. There may be paperwork to file. And if we catch the bastard, there will be a lot of paperwork.”

  She nodded, shivering even under the heavy blanket as he yanked a shirt out of his closet and threw it on, buttoning it fast.

  “Help yourself to anything in the kitchen if you get hungry or thirsty.”

  And then Liam was gone, locking the door behind him, and silence settled around her.

  His place was about like she’d expected. Neat. Utilitarian. No wasted space.

  On the opposite wall from the sofa was a large flat screen TV. To her right, just inside the front door, was a tiny kitchenette that would have been at home on a nice yacht. To her immediate left was a door that led to a bathroom, no
doubt. In the far corner was a big bed, with a closet beyond it along the far wall. To the right of the front door was a small desk, and in the corner beyond it, two pairs of skis and poles leaned against the wall.

  So. He still skied. He’d been a champion racer in high school but had elected to pursue college and an education instead of the uncertain and injury-prone life of a professional downhill skier.

  The apartment’s floor was a beautiful hardwood, stained a light, smoky brown. The furnishings were cream with touches of blue here and there. The entire apartment felt spacious and comfortable, even though it was quite small. Maybe the high-pitched ceiling had something to do with that.

  Leave it to Liam to turn an old attic into a nice place to live. He seemed to bring order and rightness to everything he touched.

  Surrounded by his comforting presence in every square inch of his place, her breathing finally slowed. And at long last, her brain reengaged.

  She recalled the face of the man in her window, and she focused hard on it, memorizing it as best she could.

  Then, throwing back the blanket, Sloan went over to the tiny desk under the front window. She opened a few drawers and rummaged around until she found what she was looking for. Grabbing several sheets of plain paper, along with a pencil, she headed back to the sofa and went to work sketching the face of the man in her window. He’d worn a black watch cap, but she was pretty sure she’d seen dark sideburns. His brows had been flat and on the thick side. She struggled to capture his nose and had to erase her efforts and restart the nose a half-dozen times before she was satisfied with it. The mouth, she got on the first try.

  The eyes—

  She had another panic attack at the memory of those eyes staring at her. They’d looked dark and sinister. But then, she could be imagining that given how badly he’d scared her. Or maybe she wasn’t imagining it at all.

  Oh, God. There went her breathing again, breaking into choppy little gasps that didn’t send nearly enough oxygen to her brain. She began to feel light-headed.