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In all of those cases, the townsfolk enjoyed bringing in the gifts and thanking the staff in person. What Finn couldn’t quite reconcile with the recent spate of gifts directed at him was why the giver felt the need to be anonymous.
Going with his gut, he dropped the chocolate into the trash can under his desk and went back to his report.
There really was no accounting for the wacky things people did. And since he had a killer to catch, he hardly had the time to worry about someone too shy to come in to the precinct to say hello.
* * *
Darby stared at her checkbook and tried desperately not to think about the debt that loomed once she got through the month of February.
“Welcome to Monday,” she muttered to herself, well aware she’d have the same problem on a Tuesday, a Wednesday or any other day of the week. There simply wasn’t any more money. And the vet’s visit the day before—a courtesy visit he’d called it—had proved conclusively she couldn’t breed Penny again. The risk to Penny’s health was too great to support another litter, especially coming on the heels of the litter she’d had the previous fall.
He’d mentioned a sweet German shepherd he’d taken care of in a nearby town—one ready for breeding and whose owner would sell for a fair price assuming she could keep one of the litter as part of the arrangement. But Darby knew it was hopeless. She barely had enough to take care of herself and Penny. There was no way she could afford a new dog right now.
The breeding program would have to wait until she got back on her feet. A few more months of her regular jobs—waitressing at the diner and helping out at the K-9 training center—and she’d reassess. That was assuming the taxes on Bo’s property didn’t put her underwater before she could earn what she needed.
On a hard sigh, she slammed the checkbook cover closed and shoved it, along with several open bills, across the kitchen table. She’d worry about it later. The problem wasn’t going anywhere and she had one more room to clean before she’d finally feel like she’d officially moved in to her own home.
When had Bo become such a slob?
While she hadn’t lied to Chief Colton the other day—that she was pleased to be out of her marriage—Bo hadn’t been a terrible guy. They weren’t compatible in the least and once she’d gotten past the fact that she’d fallen in love with an image instead of an actual person, it had become far easier for her to assess her marriage through objective eyes.
Even his roving nature—undoubtedly the worst aspect of their relationship—had an odd sense of immaturity wrapped up in it. If Bo wanted something, he went after it. Like a child unable to leave a sweet on the counter or Penny snatching something from the trash. The item was taken because it was there.
Bo was the same with women.
What he hadn’t been, if memory served, was a piggish man with a dirty home. Granted, he’d been a bachelor before she’d moved in the first time, and had spent more time out of the house than in, but she hadn’t remembered the dirt.
Or maybe she’d simply had the blind gaze of a newlywed, determined to create a new life.
She crossed to the counter and picked up her scrub brush, soap and a large container of bleach. She’d nearly gone through the entire thing over the past week, scrubbing down anything and everything she could find. The small second bathroom at the back of the house was her last hurdle to conquer. She could then at least take comfort that she laid her head down each evening in a clean home.
An hour later, with the last section of shower tile shining a gleaming white, a heavy pounding on the front door jarred Darby from her thoughts and the throbbing strains of pop music that played through her earbuds. The addition of Penny’s barking had her peeling off her rubber gloves and dropping everything into the tub to go see who was at the door.
“Penny!” The dog had her nose pressed to the floor in front of the door, a low growl emanating from deep in her throat.
The pounding kicked up again and without the earbuds Darby had no trouble making out who was knocking. The high-pitched screech gave it away even before Darby pulled aside the small panel curtain that hid the glass beside the door.
Hayley Patton.
“Darby Gage, you let me in!”
Although it had been a few years since she’d lived with Bo and Penny, Darby hadn’t forgotten her training skills or the way Bo had taught her to manage the dog. She used the required instructions to order Penny away from the door, satisfied when she took up her post a few feet back, blocking the small hallway entrance into the main living area of the house.
The uncontrolled barking was odd, but not unexpected. For all her skill with dogs as a trainer at the K-9 training center, Hayley had a worse relationship with Penny than Darby did. Whether there was something about the woman that disturbed Penny or just the pure knowledge that Hayley was a jerk, Darby didn’t know. But nothing changed the fact that the two of them did not get along.
She didn’t like another woman in her territory?
The conversation that had haunted her throughout the weekend popped up once more, the chief’s question ringing in her ears. Did Penny resent Hayley’s place in Bo’s life? Was that the root of her upset? Or was it possible there was something more?
Hayley had been playing the grieving fiancée to the hilt and while it pained Darby to think otherwise, was it possible the woman was responsible for Bo’s death? She knew it was beyond unkind—the woman had lost her fiancée the night before the wedding—but something about Hayley had always run false to her.
Yet thinking Hayley had a hand in Bo’s death seemed far-fetched. Especially now that there had been a second murder—one that had nothing to do with Hayley.
Dismissing the thought, Darby opened the door. Arm raised, Hayley had clearly been preparing to emit another round of pounding. The motion was enough to have her stumbling through the door on one high-heeled boot. Darby caught her, along with a whiff of heavy perfume and the knowledge that Bo had moved on to something bigger and better in the high, tight breasts that even now pressed against Darby’s chest.
“Let go of me!” Hayley twisted out of the hold and quickly regained her feet. Penny let out another low growl, only to be on the receiving end of a trademark Hayley Patton eye roll. “Enough already! You know me!”
Penny dropped her head on her paws, as if acknowledging the truth of Hayley’s statement, but kept her gaze firmly on her nemesis.
“What do you want, Hayley?”
“Nice welcome, Darb. You’ve gotten awful bossy since moving in to Bo’s house.”
“It’s my house now.”
“One you don’t deserve,” Hayley snapped.
Since the house was old and shabby and, up until the thorough cleaning had been as much of a physical mess as its meager finances, Darby toyed briefly with snapping a leash on Penny, tossing Hayley the keys and breezing right on out the door. Since that fantasy was easier than the reality of just walking out, Darby opted to play along to see what the woman wanted.
“Then maybe you and Bo should have talked about something important leading up to your wedding, like wills and finances.”
“How dare you bring up something so crass and cold? I loved my Bow-tie.”
Darby avoided making her mental eye roll a real one at the childish nickname and tried to summon up her cool. “I’m not suggesting you didn’t. But you obviously didn’t discuss your future if you’re mad at me.”
“I loved him and I thought he loved me. How did I even know he had a will? What twenty-nine-year-old has a will?”
A smart one, Darby thought. She’d made hers the moment she’d turned twenty-one and kept it in a lockbox with her other personal papers. “Well, Bo did.”
“It’s like tempting fate.” Hayley shivered before her big blue eyes widened so far it was practically comical. “Do you think that’s why he’s dead?”
“I doubt it.”
“Why not?”
“Bo’s dead because someone put a bullet in his heart. I don’t think a will had anything to do with it.”
The sneer Hayley had carried through the door faded at the harsh image Darby had painted. “I’m well aware of what happened to him.”
“Are you also aware, then, that Michael Hayden was killed on Friday night?”
“The police have already been by to question me about it.”
“They don’t think you did it, do they?”
“Chief Colton says he’s ruling out my involvement but I’m not so sure about that. He questioned me for a long time about Michael. Bo, too, on the night it happened.”
Although Darby wanted to bite her tongue at the ready defense, it sprang to her lips all the same. “He’s being thorough.”
“Well, he should be looking at the real killer.”
“You think you know who that is?” Darby didn’t think anyone beside Demi Colton had been formally announced as a suspect, especially since the chief had visited on Saturday asking questions. She’d also been head down in trying to fix her life, so it was equally possible things had progressed and she was unaware.
“His cousin, of course. Demi Colton had a thing for my Bow-tie and I know she’s the one who did it.”
She’d heard the rumors about Demi Colton—that she’d been jilted by Bo for Hayley after only a one-week engagement, and had put her work as a bounty hunter to good use to go after the fickle man. But somehow Darby couldn’t picture the woman as a murderess. Especially against Bo. She’d met Demi several times and the woman struck her as too smart, sharp and interesting to ever sacrifice her freedom over a man.
“I don’t see it.”
“Of course, you don’t. You’re too busy moving in to my house.”
“Legal documents say otherwise.”
“Which you’re clearly milking to your advantage.”
Patience at an end, Darby dropped the polite veneer. “What are you doing here?”
“I left a few things in Bow-tie’s closet.”
Darby had seen “Bow-tie’s” closet and didn’t recall anything that would have fit Hayley, but she gestured toward the bedroom. “Be my guest. I’ve packed up most of Bo’s things to go to charity and I didn’t see anything that looked overtly feminine, but have a go at it.”
“You packed up his things?”
For the first time since the other woman’s arrival Darby felt a shot of something. Not warmth, exactly, but something that smacked decidedly of compassion. “Well, sure. I’d rather see someone get use out of it.”
The moment shifted and the screeching began before Darby could even process what was happening. “His things are mine! You can’t have any of it!”
* * *
Finn heard the ruckus the moment he and Lotte got out of his police-issued SUV. The sound was a cross between a charging rhino and what he’d always imagined a “screaming banshee” actually sounded like. Since he already recognized Hayley Patton’s cherry-red sports car in the small dirt driveway, Finn had some sense of what he was walking into.
And while he didn’t anticipate violence, he did put his hand on his service weapon as he and Lotte approached the house.
When three heavy knocks and equally loud shouts for “Ms. Gage” went unaddressed, Finn opened the door and let himself inside. Penny sat at full alert, staring at the two women who currently faced off in the hallway leading to the living room.
“My Bow-tie!” Hayley kept wailing the words over and over, pointing toward the door and intermittently screaming about Darby’s cold heart, her grubby, grabbing hands and her temptress ways.
It didn’t take long to piece together the root of the battle, especially when Hayley thrust her hands into a large black garbage bag, pulled out men’s clothing and tossed it all over the small space.
Darby was calmer, but she didn’t take the screaming laying down, either. She’d begun picking up the clothes, hollering back that she had every right to clean her home and deal with her ex-husband’s old clothes.
“Ladies!”
Finn ordered Lotte to stay and moved forward, his focus on keeping the women apart and further separating Hayley from the bag of clothes.
“Miss Patton!” He pushed every ounce of authority into his tone and saw the moment when he finally got through. Hayley’s gaze flicked past his on another dive toward the bag and it was only when she was about to throw a pair of shorts that his presence seemed to register.
Finn took his chance, moving in and taking hold of the shorts to still her movements. “Miss Patton?”
On a gulp of air, she tugged once before seeming to give up on a hard exhale of breath. Her shoulders dropped and her hands fell to her sides before she rushed into his arms. “Chief Colton. I’m so glad you’re here.”
Her arms tightened around his waist and tears immediately wet his button-down shirt as Hayley basically wiped her cheeks over his chest. Hands now full of another man’s shorts, Finn tried a small “come now” as he patted her back. “It’ll be okay.”
Hayley only tightened her hold, the racking sobs growing harder as she shuddered against his body.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Darby said as she marched toward the pile of clothes. In moments she had pieces bunched in her hands and was shoving them into the depleted garbage bag. “This is ridiculous.”
Finn smiled at the muttered voice and had to agree. Hayley Patton had a reputation for making drama wherever she went. If the tableau playing out before his eyes was any indication, she’d brought a steaming-hot serving of drama to Darby Gage’s new home.
“What seems to be the problem, Ms. Gage?” He congratulated himself on changing his salutation at the last moment, suspecting that calling Darby “Mrs. Gage” in front of Hayley would send the woman into another round of fits.
“She seems upset by my desire to give Bo’s clothing to charity.”
“It’s so mean and cold,” Hayley said against his chest before lifting her head, her eyes narrowing. “And why would an innocent person rush to throw away the clothes of a dead man? She planned this.”
Finn’s attention sharpened and he took a firm hold on Hayley’s shoulders, pushing her an arm’s length away. “Excuse me? Do you have relevant information in the death of Bo Gage or Michael Hayden?”
Hayley gulped, as if realizing she’d possibly overstepped. “I’m not talking about Michael Hayden.”
“Then what are you talking about?”
“Her!” Hayley pointed to Darby, her expression murderous. “She’s getting rid of Bo’s clothes. What else has she gotten rid of?”
Although he wasn’t ready to rule out anything, the mix of heightened emotions and melodrama wasn’t something he could realistically take at face value.
“Why don’t we move this into the living room and everyone can calm down for a few moments.”
Without waiting for either woman’s agreement, Finn directed Hayley into the living room. He gave Darby a quick nod, as well. “If you’d join us, please.”
Darby reluctantly followed and waited, arms folded, as he settled Hayley on the couch. Lotte and Penny had remained in their places, but he could have sworn there was some silent communication going on between the two animals.
It took several long minutes for him to get to the bottom of the situation. After more rounds of tears, accusations and a moment when he thought things might come to blows, he finally had the details. And every last one of them centered on Hayley Patton resenting the hell out of the fact that her near-husband had left his home and his business to his ex-wife.
What wasn’t quite so easy to gather was why Darby seemed on the verge of saying something, only to clamp her jaws tight each and every time, holding back whatever she’d been tempted to say. It was suspicious. More than that, it smacked of a secret that he couldn’t understand.
Did she know something?
And why did her pretty blue gaze keep skipping around the room, landing at various points before settling on the dog and then racing around the room again?
After another tense fifteen minutes with Hayley persisting in her belief that she had some right to Bo’s belongings, Darby finally gave in.
“Would you just take the clothes already? I want them out of the house. Give them to charity when you’re ready.”
“I’ll never be ready to give up my Bow-tie’s things.”
Darby had remained stoic throughout the mix of sobbing tears and hard-edged rants, but something softened in her eyes when Hayley reached for the bag. Something that smacked quite a bit of compassion for the younger woman and all she’d lost.
On a hard cough, he excused himself from the couch and walked to the large bag that had been at the center of their tussle. “I can carry this out to the car for you, Miss Patton.”
Hayley got off the couch and followed him, her sobs fading away to be replaced with a surprising amount of venom. “You’re cold and heartless, Darby Gage. You stole a dead man’s home and now want to erase all trace of him. Bo was right to leave you.”
Whatever calm Finn had managed to inject into the room vanished at Hayley’s parting shot. The compassion now gone, Darby pointed to where he stood holding the large bag of clothes. Her voice carried the slightest quaver, but her hand was firm and steady.
“Take what you came for and get out of my house.”
Chapter 4
Darby walked down the hallway to collect her things from the bathroom. The lingering scent of bleach hit her nose as she cleared the bathroom doorway and, while harsh, it effectively removed the cloying scent of Hayley Patton’s perfume.
What it couldn’t erase quite as easily were the spiteful, hateful words.
Cold and heartless.
She supposed there were worse things to be called, but when tallied on top of a stressful weekend and a bleak future, Darby was close to shattering.
She wasn’t cold. And she was far from heartless. If she were, she’d already have lined up Penny’s next breeding session. Or worse, she’d have put the house and the business up for sale, effectively breaking Bo’s father’s heart.
Gathering up her cleaning supplies, she marched back down the hall, her arms overflowing with scrub brushes, chemicals and the now nearly empty container of bleach dangling from her index finger. It was only when she got to the living room that she realized her tactical mistake. The chief had returned and was even now pacing the living room, his large German shepherd blocking a path to the door.
“You’re still here.”
“I wanted to make sure Miss Patton was on her way. Now that she is, I can discuss why I’m here.”
“That’s not why you came?”
“No.”
Short and succinct. Was the man a robot? Every time she saw him he was straitlaced and to the point.
And, of course, he wasn’t here about Hayley Patton. How would he have even known the woman would come over today of all days? But it still didn’t explain why Finn Colton had returned to her home.
“Do you have a lead on Bo and that poor Michael Hayden?”
Although she’d kept close to home that weekend, a few friends had called her in continued concern. Her true friends—the ones who hadn’t been seeking a gossip session—had called each week since Bo’s death, wanting to make sure she was doing well. But even without any intended gossip, the strange connection between Bo’s murder and Michael’s the Friday past had churned up conversation.
Finn’s gaze dipped to her supplies, his eyes narrowing on her hands before working their way back up to her face. It was strange, the way his gaze went cold and flat. Cop’s eyes, she thought to herself, and finally understood what that term meant. A chill ran up her spine like someone walked over her grave.
Why did the man always look at her in a way that made her feel like she’d done something wrong?
She appreciated his position and his dedication to his job. She’d always been someone who valued determination and hard work. Yet the fact that he kept looking in her direction for a crime not only that she hadn’t committed but that wouldn’t have even crossed her mind on her worst day, didn’t sit well.
“If you have something to say to me, please just say it. I’d like to get back to my day and avoid thinking about the fact that I’ve somehow become the money-grubbing town whore.” She turned away from the chief, determined to keep the lingering threat of tears out of his line of sight. “You’d think I’d be having a bit more fun if that was my angle.”
She continued on to the kitchen, reordering her cleaning supplies in the plastic container she kept under the sink. She’d nearly finished lining up each item when heavy footsteps sounded behind her.
Would the man never leave? What did he want, anyway? A front-row seat to her public humiliation and shame?
“Can I see that bleach?”
She’d nearly shut the cabinet door when the chief’s question registered. “I’m sorry?”
“The bleach. May I see it?”
Confused about the ask, but more than willing to hand over a two-dollar container of cleaning supply, she pulled the bleach out from the cabinet. “Here.”
He took the bottle, seeming to weigh the heft before lifting it in the air to look at the sides of the container. “How long have you had this?”
“The bleach?”
“Yes.”
She wanted to laugh at the odd request but sensed there was something deeper underneath his questions. “A few days, I guess. I was out and needed it as part of my cleaning of the house.”
“You’ve used a lot of it.”
“Have you seen this house? It’s shabby now but at least it’s clean. When I moved in, it was shabby and filthy.”
Since he seemed unconvinced, she pressed on. “What’s this about, Chief Colton?”
“Nothing.”
“Right. Because everyone’s fascinated with cleaning products. I’ve got a really great glass cleaner I can share. And my steel wool is top-of-the-line. You want those, too?”
His expression never changed. If anything, it grew darker at her attempts at lightheartedness.
“Why are you asking me this?”
“It’s police business. I would like to take this container.”
“But why?” Darby pressed once more.
“I’ll give you a receipt for it.”
Something slick and oily settled like a large ball in the pit of her stomach. Hayley’s visit had been unpleasant, but Darby had held her own. Yet something about the chief’s visit—a person who should put her at ease instead of spiking her fight-or-flight response—had her in knots.
“Why are you really here? It obviously wasn’t to intercept Hayley Patton. And I’m quite sure it’s not to talk cleaning supplies.”
“I wanted to see if you remember anything from Friday night.”
“I told you the other day. I stayed in that night. Penny and I are still acclimating to each other and I had hopes a quiet night in would help cement our new relationship.”
And, she added silently to herself, I have no money to go out so it was easy to pick a dog over my social life.
“Can anyone prove that?”
“I spoke with my friend Karen around eight. You’re welcome to call her and confirm.”
“I did.”
“And?”
“And she said the two of you spoke. But you could have called her from anywhere.”
Darby fought the urge to roll her eyes and pointed in the direction of the living room toward the couch instead. “I was sitting right there all evening.”
“Which can’t be proven.”
“It was about fifteen degrees on Friday night. I was bundled up in flannel pajamas, thick wool socks and that blanket right there.”
Finn turned, his gaze settling on the area she’d pointed out. His deep voice grew husky, the tones low, as if he were talking to himself. “You could have snuck out. It would be easy enough to bundle up, drive across town, shoot Michael Hayden in the chest, then drive back here and fall right back into that cozy spot on the couch. It wasn’t a big secret that he smoked. As a waitress in town, you’d know all about those secret habits Red Ridge’s citizen’s engage in. It would be easy enough to wait him out. Wait for his next nicotine hit.”