This Colton cop falls for a ready-made family

A Coltons of Red Ridge story

A serial killer is on the loose, and true-crime filmmaker Esmée da Costa is on the case. K-9 cop Brayden Colton, the prime suspect’s half brother, works hard to stop her prying, but sparks fly as he falls for Esmée and her son. When Esmée and Brayden’s little family comes under siege, can they save all they love?

JANE GODMAN writes in a variety of romance genres, including paranormal, gothic and romantic suspense. Jane lives in England and loves to travel to European cities that are steeped in history and romance—Venice, Dubrovnik and Vienna are among her favorites. Jane is married to a lovely man and is mum to two grown-up children.

Also by Jane Godman

Colton and the Single Mom

Covert Kisses

The Soldier’s Seduction

Secret Baby, Second Chance

Otherworld Protector

Otherworld Renegade

Otherworld Challenger

Immortal Billionaire

The Unforgettable Wolf

One Night with the Valkyrie

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

Colton and the Single Mum

Jane Godman

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-07880-1

COLTON AND THE SINGLE MUM

© 2018 Harlequin Books S.A.

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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Version: 2020-03-02

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Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Extract

About the Publisher

Chapter 1

“It’s official.” Chief Finn Colton faced his K-9 officers in the morning briefing. “The Groom Killer has claimed a fourth victim.”

Brayden Colton remained silent throughout the buzz of conversation that followed. Four dead men...and this time it felt personal. Again. The first victim had been the half brother of a cop. This time, the murdered guy was an ex-cop. Although he shared the shock and grief that gripped his colleagues, Brayden had even more reason to feel anger and frustration.

He was aware of the chief watching him closely and guessed Finn was concerned about how he would react to this latest bombshell. Brayden was aware of his role. He knew how he was supposed to play this. He should keep an open mind, stay professional. Although the evidence against his kid sister was stacking up hard and fast, inside this building he was a police officer first and Demi’s brother second. Right now, he should be doing everything he could to convince his cousin, the chief, that he was impartial.

Reaching out a hand, he placed it on the head of Echo, his K-9 partner. As always, the dog’s calm, quiet presence soothed him. Brayden made sure his gaze was steady on Finn’s face as the chief continued with the briefing. Crime-scene photographs appeared on a large screen behind him. “Like the other victims, Jack Parkowski was shot through the heart. A black cummerbund was stuffed in his mouth. He was forty-eight years old, born and raised in Red Ridge, but hadn’t lived here for over twenty years. Came back six months ago in preparation for his marriage to Sarah Mull. She was the one who found his body.”

“How is she?” It was a voice from the back of the room. Sarah Mull had to be about the most popular person in Red Ridge. She had been Brayden’s first-grade teacher.

“Not good. She’s being treated in the hospital for shock. As far as the Groom Killer case goes, there is nothing new to report. Since we have another murder, let’s recap on why finding Demi Colton is our priority. When the first victim, Bo Gage, was found, he had written Demi C in his own blood. Then, a gold heart necklace with the initials DC was found under a pickup wheel near Bo’s body. We also have a witness who saw Demi close to the scene just before the murder. When we add in the fact that she went on the run as soon as we got a warrant for her arrest, it’s hardly surprising that every finger in town is pointing her way. Last month, a witness also claimed to see her shoot the third victim—a witness who ended up dead soon after. However, the FBI reported a sighting of Demi across the state at the time of that murder.” Finn’s gaze moved purposefully around the room, lingering for a second on Brayden. “So, just because we are focusing our resources on the search for Demi, I don’t want anyone to stop looking at other angles.”

“There are rumors that Demi is pregnant,” Officer Juliette Walsh said. “If that’s true, we have to hope she’ll seek medical help at some point. Is there an alert out to the medical centers in the region?”

Finn nodded. “Demi’s photograph has been circulated throughout the county.”

“Demi Colton is half feral. Why would she care about the welfare of her baby?” The sneering voice came from behind him and Brayden kept his head down, riding the wave of anger that swept over him. This was the way it had been from the minute Demi took flight. This constant fight between his job and his loyalty to his sister. It was getting harder each day.

“We suspect that Demi is pregnant with Bo Gage’s child and is several months along. All we know for sure is that Bo ended their relationship and became engaged to another woman. Unfortunately, that speaks to Demi’s motive.” Finn’s voice was firm.

“Yeah. But then again, Bo might not be the father. Anything is possible with Demi—”

Brayden was on his feet before he had time to think, swinging around to face the unknown speaker. “What are you trying to say about my sister?”

Among the faces looking back at him, one stood out. Lucas Gage, Bo’s brother, was a bounty hunter who had been deputized to the police department. Since Demi was in the same profession, they were fierce rivals and Lucas had been convinced from day one that Demi was the killer. Although Brayden couldn’t be sure Lucas was the person who had spoken, the other man stared back at him, provocation in his eyes. It was a challenge Brayden was more than happy to take.

To hell with impartial. To hell with all of it.

“My sister is not a killer.”

“Let’s calm this down.” Finn’s cool, authoritative voice cut across Brayden’s overheated senses. “Personal comments have no place in this investigation.” His gaze swept the room. “They have no place in this department. I hope that’s clear to everyone?”

There was a general murmur of agreement as Brayden returned to his seat. His fingers sought the reassuring softness of Echo’s fur and the dog gave the inside of his wrist a quick lick.

When the briefing ended, Finn spoke quietly to Brayden. “My office.”

With Echo keeping close to his heels, Brayden followed the chief to his room. “I know.” He spoke as Finn was closing the door. “I was out of order. I shouldn’t let it get to me.”

“This has got to be hard on you, Bray.” The change in Finn’s manner told Brayden this was his cousin speaking, not his boss. “You’re one of the best officers I have, and I need all the friends I can get. The Groom Killer case is the biggest thing to hit Red Ridge since I took over as chief. If I start taking officers off the investigation because of family loyalties, we’ll struggle to keep up with what this murderer throws at us next. Not to mention our regular caseload.”

Brayden knew exactly what he meant. “While this is going on, the Larson twins are stepping up their criminal activities.”

“Our attention is split two ways.” Finn’s expression was grim. “We have a killer with a grudge against engaged couples, and the Larsons, who are intent on growing their crime empire. Our resources are stretched to the limit. In addition to that, you are the lead search-and-rescue officer on the team. I’ve never doubted your loyalty and you know the problems I face.”

Finn didn’t need to elaborate. The mayor, their uncle Fenwick, was breathing down their necks to get an arrest in the Groom Killer case. The Colton-Gage feud that had torn Red Ridge apart for a century was alive and well right here in the police department. The tensions were never far from the surface. The Gage officers on the team would grasp any opportunity to stir up old hostilities.

“You have a temper, Bray. You’ve said publicly you believe in Demi’s innocence. Don’t give anyone a chance to push you on this.”

It was good advice. Brayden couldn’t help Demi by getting himself thrown off the force. And Finn was right about the search-and-rescue side of his job. The pressure increased as summer approached. The Coyote Mountains attracted large numbers of tourists. There were always the inevitable cases of inexperienced hikers wandering off the trails, falling or staying out after dark. Brayden and Echo were often all that stood between them and disaster.

“You want me to focus on the Larsons?”

“If you can. Obviously, if anything comes your way to do with the Groom Killer case, you’ll need to follow it up. And, Bray?” Brayden paused with his hand on the door handle. “Esmée da Costa tells me she’s having trouble contacting you.”

That would be because I’ve been ignoring her calls. Apparently, Esmée da Costa, the documentary maker who wanted to make a film about the Groom Killer, couldn’t take a hint. So, instead of respecting Brayden’s privacy, she had gone to his boss. His antagonism toward the woman he’d never met spiked higher. He was the Colton cop from the wrong side of the tracks. His sister was on the run, wanted for a series of grisly murders Brayden knew she wasn’t capable of committing. He was half out of his mind with worry for Demi, as he tried to focus on his job and deal with the taunts of the Gages and the arrogant skepticism of his better-off Colton relatives, and he was also aware that the eyes of the town were upon him wherever he went. Why the hell would he want to put his feelings on the record for a true-crime documentary film? If Brayden ever did come face-to-face with Ms. da Costa, he would give her his opinion of how she made her living. He doubted she’d enjoy hearing it.

Brayden smiled for the first time that morning. “You know me. I’m not much of a talker.”

* * *

As she pulled into Hester Mull’s drive, Esmée da Costa gripped the steering wheel so tight it hurt. Determined not to cry in front of Rhys, she battled back the tears. Her son had seen too much high drama in his two years. While Esmée knew it wasn’t possible, or healthy, to cocoon him from every negative emotion, she did her best to keep his world on an even track.

Even so, hiding her sorrow was tough. She supposed it was because, until now, she hadn’t really believed Jack Parkowski was dead. It had been impossible for her to accept that the big, strong man who had been such a powerful force for good in her life wouldn’t be there forever.

Seeing Sarah, Jack’s fiancée, her face pale and her smile strained as she lay in that hospital bed, was what had made it real. Esmée had held one of Sarah’s icy hands in her own while Hester, Sarah’s sister-in-law, held the other. As they talked, Rhys had played one of his noiseless games with the wooden animals he took everywhere. That was when the truth had come crashing down on Esmée, gaining speed until it reached the full force of an avalanche. She would never again see the man who had been there for her and Rhys when they had most needed a friend.

“The dog show is one of the most popular events in Red Ridge.” Hester’s voice brought Esmée back to reality. She had stowed a large picnic basket in the trunk of the rental car and was getting into the passenger seat.

“And you’re sure all the K-9 officers will be there?” Esmée asked. She wasn’t interested in all of them, but Hester didn’t need to know that.

In the course of her research about the Groom Killer case, Esmée had learned that there was one man who was prepared to speak out in support of Demi Colton, the chief suspect in the murders. Despite his job as a member of the K-9 police team, Brayden Colton was brave enough to declare his belief in his half sister’s innocence.

As she delved deeper, Esmée would need to talk to all three of Demi’s half siblings, but Brayden was the one who fascinated her. He must be going through hell right now. His sister was accused of murder, with most of the town happy to vocalize her guilt, yet Brayden had to turn up for work each day and investigate the crimes. He had to hear the details and listen to the theories about Demi’s guilt. How did that make him feel? How did he balance the two different sides of his life? Colton and cop. Which did he put first?

Brayden’s was the voice Esmée wanted to hear, his was the story she wanted to use as her starting point. If she could only get in touch with him.

“Oh, yes. Chief Finn Colton insists on it. Part of the trust that funds the unit provides for the K-9 team to do outreach work in the community.”

Esmée and Hester had only just met and the circumstances hadn’t exactly been pleasant. Sarah Mull had been happily married to Hester’s older brother until he died in a car crash a few years ago. Now, Hester was helping her sister-in-law recover from another shock death, that of her fiancé, Jack.

Esmée, having met Hester a few times at the hospital when she visited Sarah, had instinctively liked the other woman. Hester was warm, kind and she had offered to show Esmée and Rhys around Red Ridge.

Before Hester had retired, she’d been a police officer herself, so Esmée was confident she knew what she was talking about. “The police dogs take part in demonstration events, and the officers are there to answer any questions members of the public have about the unit.”

Hester turned to wave a hand at Rhys, who was in his safety seat.

“Rhys will enjoy today,” Esmée said. “He loves all animals, but he really likes dogs.”

“Such a pity he can’t talk.” Hester lowered her voice to a whisper as she fastened her seat belt. “Isn’t there anything the doctors can do to cure him?”

“Rhys can talk.” Esmée dealt with this all the time. People meant well, but they didn’t understand. “There’s nothing wrong with him,” she explained to Hester. “He had a very bad experience when he was just twelve months old. Before that, he made the usual babbling noises all babies of his age make. Then he went quiet. Not speaking is his way of dealing with the trauma. It’s called selective mutism.”

“Oh.” Hester cast a sidelong glance at Esmée, obviously wondering what to say next.

“It’s okay.” Esmée placed her hand briefly on the older woman’s knee. “You didn’t know and I don’t mind talking about it.”

It was true...in a way. Of course she minded that Rhys didn’t talk. But she had always been open about it, even if the reason for his emotional distress filled her with guilt. The toxic downturn in her relationship with Gwyn Owen, Rhys’s father, had been gradual. Even so, the deterioration into violence had taken Esmée by surprise. It was only Jack’s intervention that had saved her from serious injury. Her old friend had come to her rescue, removing her from the scene of a vicious attack and helping her deal with the aftermath. But the damage had been done. Rhys had witnessed his mother cowering with her hands over her head as his father punched and kicked her.

“Why don’t we go see some dogs?” Change the subject. Yeah, that always worked. For a while.

Rhys clapped his hands together before holding up both hands with his fingers curved as he imitated a begging dog. Esmée’s heart expanded with pride and love and she clapped her own hands in response. It was important to praise any efforts he made to communicate, even if they weren’t verbal. She wanted to use the dog show to meet Brayden Colton and set up an interview, but the most important thing was for Rhys to have a good time.

Her sweet, silent boy spoke to her in his own way. And one day he would use words. She had to stay positive that it would happen. Every time she looked into his dark eyes, thankfully like her own rather than his father’s, an icy shard of guilt pierced her heart. She should have gotten away sooner, should have known it was never going to have a happy ending...

Hester laughed delightedly. “He’s so clever.” Esmée already liked Hester, but her admiration for Rhys sealed the deal.

She chatted to Rhys as she drove, describing the late-afternoon scene. Hester picked up on what she was doing and joined in. Esmée didn’t need the psychologist and the speech therapist who saw Rhys regularly to tell her that he needed lots of talk to stimulate him. She was his mom—her instincts told her what to do. At the same time, talking to Rhys, singing songs to him and telling him stories were all reminders of her own childhood. Esmée was a talker. It was who she was, and it made Rhys’s silence so much harder to bear.

The dog show was held at the K-9 training center. Located at the far end of Main Street, the center was a large one-story brick building that edged onto the woods. They got out of the car and headed toward a large backyard with a five-foot-high wooden fence all the way around. The gates were open and the event had spilled out onto the surrounding grass with stalls lining the route all the way to the trees.

Hester explained that the major part of the K-9 unit funding came from a trust left by Mayor Fenwick Colton’s late first wife. “That’s him.” Even though the man she indicated was too far away to hear, Hester murmured the words out of the corner of her mouth.

Esmée had heard a few things about Fenwick Colton, none of them good. According to the Gages she’d spoken to, the short, skinny man with the blond hairpiece thought he owned Red Ridge. He was a wealthy businessman in his midfifties, with three divorces behind him. Apparently having finally decided marriage wasn’t for him, he now preferred to have a new young girlfriend on his arm, and changed them every few months.

“His daughter, Layla Colton, was supposed to marry Hamlin Harrington, the owner of Harrington Inc., at the end of the year.” Hester’s voice took on a gossipy ring that triggered Esmée’s human-interest radar. “There’s a rumor that Fenwick’s business, Colton Energy, is in trouble. Hamlin has signed the documents that will save Colton Energy once he marries Layla. But since the Groom Killer murders, Hamlin has gotten nervous and called off the engagement. Now the clock is ticking and Fenwick faces losing everything. He needs millions by December 31st or it’s all over. The problem is, if Fenwick loses Colton Energy, the funding for the K-9 unit will be pulled.”

Esmée looked around her at the training center and the people who had gathered to celebrate the work it did. “That would be awful.”

Hester spread her picnic blanket on the ground. “Fenwick is putting pressure on Chief Finn Colton to get a quick arrest. There is no such thing as family loyalty for our mayor. He can’t stand his lowlife cousin, Rusty, who owns a bar, or any of his kids. As far as Fenwick is concerned, he doesn’t care whether Demi is guilty or innocent. He just wants her arrested and locked up so folks won’t be scared of getting married and he can get his money-making plans back on track with his daughter’s wedding.”

“Nice man.”

Hester snorted. “You think?”

Although Fenwick wasn’t the Colton that Esmée was interested in right now, the story added color to her research. There clearly wasn’t much family feeling between the three Colton patriarchs, Fenwick, Judson and Rusty. No wonder Demi had gone on the run. Guilty or innocent, there didn’t seem to be much sympathy for her in Red Ridge. On the subject of the dysfunctional Colton clan...

She looked over at the enclosure in the center of the grass, where the officers were gathering with their dogs. “Which one is Brayden Colton?”

“I don’t see him.” Hester shielded her eyes with her hand as she looked toward the enclosure. Some of the officers were standing in a group nearby. “But it will be easy to pick him out when he does get here. He’s the search-and-rescue officer on the team, so he wears an orange vest over his uniform. His K-9 partner, Echo, is a golden retriever. Echo also wears an orange vest.”

It was a useful piece of information, and Esmée kept checking on the K-9 team as she and Hester took Rhys around the stalls and activities.

Her feelings about Red Ridge were mixed. Jack was the reason she had come to this town. He had worked closely with her mother, assisting Portia da Costa on several of her best-selling true-crime books. After Portia died and Jack left the force, he had helped Esmée with her own research. He had even joined her in Wales, where she’d spent almost two years filming her award-winning documentary, What Remains. When Jack alerted her to the Groom Killer case, Esmée had immediately been intrigued. But arriving in town to find her friend had become one of the victims had tilted her whole world off course. It also made her motivation for staying a whole lot stronger.

Even without Jack’s death and the background of the Groom Killer story, there was enough of an undercurrent here in Red Ridge to stimulate her interest. Esmée’s stories were about the individuals, families and communities that had been torn apart by acts of violence and lawlessness. It was hard to explain to anyone else, but she could also tell when a place was suffering. And, even though she’d only arrived recently, she knew Red Ridge was hurting more than any other town she’d known.

When Jack had called her with the news he and Sarah were getting married, Esmée had just finished delivering an online course to murder-mystery writers. She was in the unusual position of being between jobs.

“There’s a story here, if you’re interested,” Jack had said. “How about a town where folks are scared to get married in case the groom is murdered? Couples are making a big deal of publicly calling off their weddings. Flower stores, cake shops, caterers and wedding-dress designers are seeing their incomes plummet. No one is going on dates or out for romantic meals. Hell, most people are even scared to hold hands with their partner.” Jack always did have a knack for catching her attention and hooking her into a story, making her see the human-interest angle.

Esmée had reached for a notepad and pen. “Red Ridge, South Dakota. The town where romance died?”

She recalled that conversation as she looked around her now. Although there were couples at the show, she noticed a definite lack of any displays of affection. It created a strange, false atmosphere.

Hester entertained her by explaining that there were competitions for the saddest eyes, waggiest tail, floppiest ears and scruffiest dog. “There was a campaign to have a crossbreed disqualified after he won all four categories last year.”

Esmée burst out laughing. “Now that’s a dog I need to see.” She noticed that a tall, dark-haired officer in an orange search-and-rescue vest had entered the K-9 enclosure. “Hester, would you watch Rhys for a few minutes? There’s someone I need to talk to.”

Chapter 2

“You know how hard you’ve been working to stay out of Esmée da Costa’s way?” Finn asked.

Brayden regarded him warily. “Yes.”

“Looks like she found you anyway.”

Brayden followed the direction of his chief’s nod. Until now, he wasn’t aware he’d had any expectation about how Esmée would look. He certainly hadn’t expected to see a petite, pretty woman with long auburn hair and huge dark eyes. She was holding the hand of a little boy, who wore a red sweatshirt, and she was laughing at something Hester Mull was saying. Having looked her way, Brayden was having a hard time dragging his gaze away again.

After a moment or two, he realized Finn was waiting for some kind of response. He shrugged and turned away. “I need to get Echo ready for the manhunt.”

Each of the K-9s in the unit had a different specialty and the dog show was an opportunity to show the public what they did. Echo was trained as a scent-specific search dog, also known as a trail dog. If he was given something belonging to a missing person, Echo would discriminate that scent from the others around it and use it to hunt for the person it matched. Each year, during the dog show, Brayden would select members of the public and ask them to hide before using Echo to find them in a canine game of hide-and-seek. It was one of the most popular features of the day.

“Officer Colton?” The voice was low-pitched and musical and the aroma that invaded his nostrils was subtle and floral.

He swung around quickly, encountering a smile that, in any other circumstances, would have done him a whole powerful lot of good. Up close, Esmée was even more beautiful than from a distance, with dainty features and golden skin tones. The top of her head was level with his shirt pocket and she tilted her head back to look at him.

She was eye-catching in her short, brightly patterned skirt, over which she wore a lace blouse and a faded denim jacket. Black lace-up ankle boots drew Brayden’s attention to her slender legs.

“I’m Esmée da Costa. We seem to keep missing each other.”

“No, Ms. da Costa. I’ve been avoiding you.”

Her smile widened. It was possibly the most enchanting smile he’d ever seen and he was working hard to not be enchanted. “I knew that. I was being diplomatic.”

She was stunning and just gazing at her was a reminder to his body that it had been a long time since he had been this close to a woman. Maybe it was time to do something about that. Not with this woman, obviously...

“This must be Echo.” As she stroked the dog’s head, Brayden’s well-trained K-9 partner forgot his manners and licked her bare knee. Esmée laughed. Smiling and laughing seemed to come naturally to her. If she hadn’t been making a documentary that had the potential to ruin his sister, he’d have been tempted to join in. “Oh, hey...is that a Red Ridge greeting? The knee licking?”

“Looks like it is now.” He really couldn’t blame Echo for his lapse. She had the nicest knees.

“I know you’re busy.” She waved a hand to indicate the compound, where the K-9s were waiting patiently for their partners. “And I need to get back to my little boy, but I’d love to fix up a time to speak to you.”

“That isn’t going to happen.” He was about to launch into his rehearsed speech about her chosen profession, when the sound of a woman’s voice raised in shrill alarm drew his attention back to the training area.

“Esmée! Oh, dear Lord.” He narrowed his eyes, catching sight of Hester Mull standing at the edge of the K-9 compound with her hand over her mouth. “I just turned away for a second...”

With lightning speed, Esmée had already broken into a run. Catching a glimpse of a small figure in a red sweatshirt among the dogs, Brayden was just behind her. He overtook her before she could run into the compound.

He caught hold of her arm, pulling her back until she was behind him. “Leave this to me.”

“Rhys...” The word was choked from her as she gazed at her son. Weaving his way among the dogs, the boy appeared smaller than ever. There were gasps and exclamations from some of the onlookers.

“Somebody do something. Those dogs will tear him apart.” The unknown woman’s voice grated on Brayden’s nerves.

Catching sight of Danica Gage, a K-9 trainer, he gestured for her to keep the onlookers away and ask them to be quiet. As Brayden stepped into the compound, Rhys approached Echo. Wrapping his arms around the dog’s neck, the boy pressed his face into thick, golden fur. When Brayden reached them, Echo gave him a look that seemed to say, “Don’t worry, I’ve got this.”

Echo stayed perfectly still as Brayden carefully loosened Rhys’s hands from around his neck. As soon as he had freed the boy from the dog, Esmée was there. Dropping to her knees at her son’s side, she scooped him into her arms.

“Dog,” Rhys said, pointing to Echo.

“What did you say?” Esmée stared at him, her face growing pale.

“Dog.” Rhys seemed slightly impatient at being asked to say the word again.

Esmée’s hand shook as she raised it to cover her lips. Tears filled her eyes, spilling over as she gazed at him.

“I know it looked bad, but he wasn’t in any real danger.” Since she was clearly in shock, Brayden attempted to reassure her. “These dogs are well trained. None of them would hurt a child, and Echo is just a big cuddly toy.”

She shook her head, the tears flowing faster now. “You don’t understand. Rhys doesn’t talk. That was his first word.”

* * *

Brayden squatted next to Rhys, who stood within the circle of Esmée’s arms. She was still having a hard time believing what she’d just heard.

“This is Echo.” As Brayden pronounced each word slowly and deliberately, Esmée held her breath.

“Ko.” Rhys tried out the word carefully.

“Close enough.” Brayden held out his hand, inviting the little boy to come closer. “It’s okay.” He raised his eyes to Esmée’s face and she knew the reassurance was for her sake more than Rhys’s. “Echo is great with kids.”

So are you. Her son could be a little shy around strangers, but she watched him take Brayden’s outstretched hand. She got to her feet as they approached the dog.

“Esmée, I’m so sorry. I don’t know how he got away from me.” Hester came to stand beside her.

She shook her head. “He said a few words, Hester.” Tears blurred her vision again momentarily. “The dog got him talking.”

“Oh, my.” Hester slid an arm around Esmée’s waist and she leaned her head gratefully against the older woman’s shoulder as they observed Rhys interacting with Echo.

Brayden was talking patiently to the little boy. “Echo can shake hands, but you have to tell him what you want him to do. You have to say ‘paw.’”

As soon as he said the word, Echo raised his paw and Brayden took it, shaking it to demonstrate what he meant. Rhys started to laugh. It was a sound Esmée hadn’t heard since that awful night in Wales when Gwyn had attacked her. Although he often smiled, when Rhys had retreated into his silent world, he had stopped laughing.

Now, watching Brayden shake hands with Echo, her little boy’s musical chuckle rang out. It was the sweetest sound she had ever heard.

“Now you say it.” Brayden positioned Rhys in front of Echo. “Say ‘paw.’”

Instead, Rhys gave the dog another hug. “Ko.” His voice was muffled by Echo’s fur.

“Can I get a picture?” Esmée’s hand shook as she took her cell phone out of her pocket.

“Sure. Echo is a narcissist, he loves posing for photographs,” Brayden said.

As if to demonstrate, as soon as Esmée aimed her phone to take the picture, Echo shifted position so his search-and-rescue vest was on display. He looked up at her, big eyes shining, his mouth wide as if he was smiling. She had never had much contact with dogs. Her mother’s job had kept them moving around too much for them to own one when Esmée was growing up. Now, looking at Echo’s kind, intelligent face, she thought there was probably a lot to be said for the benefit of a canine companion.

“Let’s try the paw thing once more.”

Esmée realized what Brayden was doing. He was using his dog as therapy, getting Rhys to talk to Echo. Her throat tightened with gratitude toward this man she didn’t know. No one had grasped what Rhys needed so quickly, or done something about it with such efficiency.

Slowly, patiently, Brayden got Rhys to say the word paw to Echo. Rhys squealed with delight when Echo lifted his paw on command. He shook it, then insisted on doing it over and over.

“That dog is going to have a sore leg.” Even though she was laughing, Hester had tears in her eyes as she hugged Esmée.

“Now it’s Mommy’s turn to shake hands,” Brayden said. “Tell her to come over here.”

Esmée held her breath as Rhys looked over his shoulder, his eyes shining. “Mommy, say ‘paw.’” He pointed. “Ko.”

Although she had stayed positive, telling herself he would talk, there had been times when she had wondered if she would ever hear him call her “Mommy.” All she knew was she’d have given everything she owned to hear that word on his lips. As she sank to her knees next to Brayden, wrapping an arm around Rhys’s waist, she wanted to relish the moment, to imprint it on her memory forever.

Rhys wasn’t going to give her time to get emotional. “Say ‘paw.’” Having found his voice, he seemed determined to use it.

Laughing, Esmée went through the routine of shaking hands with Echo, who, she decided, must be the most patient dog in the world.

Brayden straightened and stood over them. “Sorry to break this up, but Echo and I have to go put on a show for the crowd.”

“Of course.” Esmée lifted Rhys into her arms. “We have to say goodbye now.”

“Bye, Ko.” He waved a hand over her shoulder at the dog.

Esmée wondered if Brayden had any idea what he’d just done. For an instant, they gazed at each other. His eyes were unusual. More green than blue and fringed by thick, dark lashes, their expression was intense. When she first saw him, her first thought had been that he was unapproachable. Devastatingly handsome, but, oh, so severe.

Now she was being forced to rethink her first impression. Because she was sure he had deliberately taken time out of his busy schedule to spend with Rhys when he had figured out that her little boy needed a push to keep him talking. Maybe he didn’t know he had just changed her life, but Brayden Colton had done a good thing for a stranger. That had to make him a special kind of person. She hadn’t formed any idea about his sister, but Brayden thought Demi was innocent. More than ever, Esmée wanted to hear his opinion.

“Thank you.” It seemed an inadequate thing to say, but it was all she had. The emotion was still close to the surface. Even those two words had her throat tightening painfully all over again.

“All part of the service.” Somehow, she sensed Brayden understood the raw emotion that was churning through her. He placed a hand briefly on Rhys’s shoulder. “He’s a great kid.”

“He is.” She rested her cheek against Rhys’s curls. “He’s the best.”

He reached into his top pocket, pulling out his shades. “Oh, and that interview you wanted?”

“Yes?” Her heart beat a little faster. She wasn’t sure whether it was at the prospect of the interview, or the chance to spend more time with him. Possibly it was both.

He slid the shades on, hiding his eyes. Hiding himself. “Still not happening.”

* * *

It was a good thing Echo knew what he was doing because Brayden had been afflicted by a curious inability to concentrate. It was a unique experience for someone who was usually focused, and it was annoying him intensely.

He was well aware of the reason for his distraction. Throughout the K-9 demonstration, during which the police dogs showed off their different skills, his eyes seemed to have developed a will of their own. No matter how hard he tried to keep his gaze on what was happening around him, his eyes insisted on wandering to the picnic rug where Esmée was sitting with Rhys and Hester.

Although they were some distance away, Rhys was a splash of bright color in his red sweatshirt, and Esmée’s skirt was equally eye-catching. Brayden choked back a laugh. She could be camouflaged to blend in with her surroundings. He’d still find her.

The truth was, Esmée da Costa had shaken him and he wasn’t sure how to feel about it. The fact that she was five foot three inches of delicious femininity hadn’t escaped his notice, but it was not the only reason she had grabbed his attention.

Even though she looked like every man’s hottest fantasy, he’d been ready with a few well-chosen words of angry dismissal when she’d mentioned an interview. Then the drama with her little boy had unfolded. What he’d seen then had been remarkable. When Rhys said his first words, Brayden had been able to feel the emotion coming off Esmée in waves. In her eyes, he had seen hope mingling with a love so intense it was fierce.

He had spent time with Rhys for the kid’s own sake. Something about the little boy had reminded Brayden of himself. When Esmée said her son hadn’t spoken until today, it was clear Rhys had problems that went deep. Brayden didn’t know what they were. As a child, his own intense shyness had been crippling. After knowing Rhys for only a matter of minutes, he wouldn’t presume to say he knew how the boy felt. All he could say was he remembered what it was like to wish he could retreat behind an imaginary wall in a grown-up world. He’d seen a way to reach out, and Rhys’s smile had been the only reward he’d wanted.

When he saw Esmée’s reaction to Rhys’s first words, he had experienced a strong desire to go further and help her as well as her kid. The feeling was so strong he had put aside his personal animosity toward her purpose for coming to Red Ridge. Had even possibly forgotten all about the story she was covering and just enjoyed that brief encounter with her and her son. As incredible as it seemed, for the first time since Bo Gage had been found shot dead with a cummerbund stuffed in his mouth, Brayden had stopped thinking about the investigation.

As his gaze strayed in Esmée’s direction again, he decided it was worth a reminder that the presence of a child indicated there was a father around somewhere. Not that he had any intention of letting a pair of big dark eyes and those pretty legs with their lickable knees divert him from who she was. A few wrong words from Esmée could hurt Demi, and Brayden wasn’t going to add to his sister’s problems.

With that thought in his mind, he glanced at his cell phone. He had gotten into the habit of willing Demi to get in touch, even though he knew she wouldn’t. Brayden didn’t have much of a relationship with any of his half siblings; they’d all been raised by different mothers. They were all close in age, and had lived nearby when they were growing up—he and his older sister, Quinn, had even been in the same class at school—but their mothers had instilled a sense of distrust in them that had lasted into adulthood. Brayden, Quinn and Shane didn’t dislike each other. They just had nothing in common and no reason to get to know each other.

Demi was different. They weren’t exactly friends, but their shared love of the outdoors had brought them together when they were growing up and a bond had developed between them because of events that had come their way. It was the reason Brayden was certain his sister wasn’t a killer. It was also how he knew she wouldn’t contact him. Strong-willed, stubborn and feisty, Demi was also fiercely loyal. She wouldn’t put Brayden in a position where he had to choose between her and his job.

He just wished she would get in touch with someone to let them know she was okay. Those rumors were swirling around town that Demi was pregnant with Bo Gage’s baby. Her critics were claiming it as further proof of her guilt. Bo dumped her and was marrying someone else while she was carrying his child, so she killed him? Brayden shook his head. Demi had a temper, but she was more likely to confront Bo and land a punch on him that would break his nose. And the idea that Demi had then continued killing other bridegrooms? Jack Parkowski was the fourth victim. Fourth. Brayden just didn’t buy into the idea that his sister was out somewhere close by, stalking and killing engaged men.

Even so, the evidence against Demi wasn’t good. A search of her house had revealed photos and love letters to Demi from Bo, with big Xs across them and the word Liar scrawled in marker across one letter. No matter how bad things seemed, if she would just give herself up, Brayden was sure they could clear her name.

The K-9 demonstration was over and Brayden looked in Esmée’s direction once more. She was chasing Rhys in a circle around their picnic rug, letting him stay just ahead of her. Almost as if she sensed him watching, she looked up and stared back at Brayden across the distance between them. Hurriedly, he turned away to help Danica dismantle the agility equipment.

A heavy hand landed on his shoulder and alcohol fumes greeted him as he turned his head. Brayden resisted the temptation to groan.

“Saw you talking to that pretty little reporter a while ago, son.” His father, Rusty, only ever called Brayden “son” when he wanted to borrow money from him.

“She’s not a reporter.”

“Whatever she is, that would be one mighty fine way to spend an afternoon.” Rusty winked and elbowed Brayden in the ribs. “Maybe I’ll invite her over to the Pour House. Tell her my side of the story while we, uh...relax.”

Brayden had given up on wishing Rusty would treat women with respect. Usually, he called his father out on the worst of his comments without much hope that he would be listened to. For the first time ever, real anger blazed through him at his father’s attitude. The thought of Rusty leering at Esmée infuriated him almost as much as the idea that he would contemplate discussing Demi’s situation with a stranger. A stranger who was here to make a documentary. To expose every aspect of their lives to the world.

“Stay away from her.” The words came out harder than he’d intended.

“Whatever you say.” Rusty held up his hands in a gesture of peace. “Look, I have a problem—”

“How much?” Brayden didn’t want to hear the latest inventive reason why Rusty needed cash.

“Fifty should do it.”

Brayden handed him the money and Rusty stuffed it into the back pocket of his jeans. He stooped to pat Echo before wandering away, whistling tunelessly. Despite telling himself he wouldn’t, Brayden turned once more to look at Esmée.

She’d gone. He already had plenty of reasons of his own to stay away from her. The fact that he was more disappointed than relieved that she was no longer around added about a dozen more.

Chapter 3

Two days had passed since the dog show and Esmée congratulated herself that she hadn’t contacted Brayden during that time. The temptation had been almost overwhelming, but she had resisted for a number of reasons.

The first was that he had made it clear he didn’t wish to speak to her. The man had to be dealing with a world of pain right now. She had caught some of that in his expression before he lowered his shades. She had also heard it in his voice. The last thing he needed was for her to disrespect his wishes and trample roughly over his feelings. Esmée hadn’t given up on her desire to talk to him, but she worked within a strong code of ethics. She wasn’t going to try to coerce him into it.

Her hope was that, once he saw other people opening up to her and became aware that she was treating his sister’s story with sensitivity, he would change his mind. If he didn’t? She would take her research in another direction. She’d done it before. A documentary of this kind took a long time to make and there would be many twists and turns along the way. Right now, it felt like Brayden was her starting point, but that could change.

An approach to the subscription TV company that had bought the documentary about the murders in the Welsh farming community of Glanrafon had proved promising. They were keen to work with her again and loved the Red Ridge idea. Viewing figures for What Remains had been phenomenal and it had won several prestigious awards. Esmée’s terms were simple—a good price and total artistic control over her work.

Her second reason for keeping her distance from Brayden was more personal. Rhys was talking. She wanted to hold her breath every time he spoke in case he stopped again. The remarkable thing was that he was good at it. All that listening to Esmée must have paid off. He was speaking in simple sentences, his vocabulary was good and he could pronounce most words well.

Esmée had called both his speech therapist and psychologist to discuss this new development. The speech therapist had been encouraging.

“You know what to do as well as I do. Give him a context to talk. Keep modeling what to do. Ask him questions. This is the turning point—it will all move forward from here.”

The psychologist, while also optimistic, had added a word of caution. “You say this started with a dog? Make sure Rhys doesn’t develop a reliance on the animal.”

“He’s been talking just fine without Echo,” Esmée had explained as she watched Rhys eating the cookie he had asked for. Not signed. Not gestured. Asked.

“Just something to be aware of.”

While Esmée had no doubt that Echo had been the trigger for Rhys to start talking, she didn’t believe that his continuing recovery depended on the dog. Even so, he had several times asked the same question.

“See Ko?”

“Echo is busy. He has to work.” Although Rhys had accepted the explanation, his disappointment had been obvious. Once or twice, he had asked to see the picture of Echo on Esmée’s cell phone. And, after watching Brayden and Echo demonstrate their search-and-rescue skills at the dog show, Rhys had developed a love of playing hide-and-seek. It was his new favorite activity, and even when Esmée couldn’t join in, he played hiding games with his toy animals.

His interest in Echo turned Esmée’s thoughts toward the future. Maybe it was time to put down roots. Her own nomadic childhood had been happy, but she wasn’t sure she wanted the same thing for Rhys. And if they settled in one place, they could get a dog of their own. She was becoming drawn to the concept of a pet as a form of therapy.

How about a tall, handsome cop? Was there a therapeutic role for one of those in her life? She shook aside the thought as soon as it appeared. There was no room for any man in her life. Period. She had messed up in a big way with Gwyn. The only thing she didn’t regret about that part of her life was that it had brought her Rhys. Her son was everything to her. Even though her relationship with his father had gone horribly wrong, she could never wish it hadn’t happened.

The experience had changed her in so many ways. She supposed the blithe, pleasure-loving person was still inside her somewhere, but that part of her remained well-hidden these days. Rhys was her priority. Even if she had any inclination to start dating again, there was no way she would risk unsettling him by introducing a new father figure into his life. It was just as well she had no interest in men.

Or she hadn’t...until Brayden Colton had appeared on her horizon. And that was yet another reason not to contact him. Esmée couldn’t be sure, if she did get in touch with him, that she would be doing it for the right reasons. Yes, she wanted to talk to him about Demi, but she was honest enough to admit to a strong desire to see him again. It was an unexpected and dangerous attraction, one she wasn’t willing to pursue. It was probably a good idea to steer clear of Brayden and take her research in a different direction for the time being.

With that in mind, she had pursued a few other leads. One of those had been an interview with the owner of Bea’s Bridal. The store, located among the fancy boutiques and restaurants of Rattlesnake Avenue, had been temporarily closed. It was another sign of the Groom Killer’s impact on the town. No one wanted to be seen ordering wedding gowns in Red Ridge right now. Grooms-to-be were not safe.

Just a few miles away from Rattlesnake Avenue, there was another, very different side to Red Ridge. Located in a run-down part of town, the Pour House was the notorious bar owned by Rusty Colton, Brayden and Demi’s father. Hester had watched Rhys the previous night while Esmée made a visit to that interesting establishment. It had helped clarify a few aspects of her potential story.

Rusty was a large, loud personality who had four children, all with different mothers. Although the half siblings had been raised near each other in the poorer part of town, their mothers didn’t get on and the kids hadn’t been close as they grew up. Observing Rusty as she sipped her soda in a quiet corner of the bar, Esmée couldn’t picture him as a loving father.

She would need to speak to him, of course, but she hadn’t approached Rusty for his views about his daughter’s guilt and her disappearance. Part of her preparation was about getting a feel for the key characters in her story. Even so, word had already gotten out about who she was, and a few people had come forward to give her their opinions. If she went with what she had so far, she would be on her way out of town already, the story of Demi’s guilt all neatly packaged up.

What had surprised her was that most of the people who were keen to give her their theories about Demi’s involvement were members of the Gage family. It hadn’t taken much research to uncover that there was a century-old feud between the Coltons and Gages. In the Groom Killer case, the first victim had been a Gage, the suspect a Colton. These new murders were a fresh wound on top of an older hurt.

Esmée wasn’t an investigator. When Demi was found, it would be up to the legal system to determine her guilt or innocence. Esmée’s story would be about the people, the town and the impact of the murders. It was about Jack and Sarah and the other couples whose hopes and dreams had been torn apart by a killer who didn’t want to see them make it down the aisle. It was about the Gage-and-Colton feud and why this place couldn’t move on from that. It was about the welcome she had received from the people of this pretty mountain town and the contrasting raw pain she could feel beneath.

She and Rhys took their cereal out onto the porch of their tiny bungalow. The Red Ridge Bed-and-Breakfast was situated right on the edge of town, close to the winding trail that led to the lower slopes of the Coyote Mountains. Comprising eight wooden guest cabins arranged around a grass lawn, the place had been the most comfortable of those Esmée had viewed. The owner, Wendy Gage, was a distant cousin of Bo, the first victim of the Groom Killer, and a firm believer in Demi Colton’s guilt.

Although breakfast was provided each morning in the main house, Esmée and Rhys had only tried it once.

Rhys wasn’t a picky eater, but faced with a plate piled high with sausages, eggs, bacon and muffins, he had struggled to finish. Wendy had made a comment that her kids would have been made to sit at the table until the last mouthful was gone. It had taken every ounce of diplomacy Esmée possessed not to respond. Instead, she had informed Wendy that she and Rhys would make their own arrangements for breakfast in the future. The proprietor’s initial outrage had been appeased when she realized Esmée was still prepared to pay the full bed-and-breakfast rate.

It was a beautiful day, and the view was perfect. Across to her right, rolling fields of farmland and ranch land stretched away into the distance. To her left, up close, thick trees bordered the Coyote Mountain range.

She wondered what it would be like to grow up in a place like this. Esmée’s own upbringing had been unconventional. Her father had died when she was seven and, from then on, her mother had followed the stories she needed to write her bestselling books. If they stayed anywhere long enough, Esmée attended a regular school. If not, she was homeschooled. But Portia wasn’t a traditionalist. Esmée learned as much from the outdoors as she did from her lessons. The long hikes her mother had taken her on when she was a child meant walking was in her blood.

No matter where she was, no matter what the weather, Esmée still got the cravings. Those mountains were calling to her now. There were a few people she had planned to call, a couple of locations she wanted to visit. Nothing that couldn’t wait.

Rhys was at an in-between age. He enjoyed walking, examining every leaf, bug, rock and stick, just the way Esmée had once done. Because he wasn’t capable of a sustained level of exercise, Esmée had a carrier so she could lift him onto her back when he started to tire.

“Shall we go for a hike?” She pointed to the trail that led toward the trees.

“Boots.” Rhys pointed to his bare feet. “Hat, screen, water...”

Esmée laughed. He was listing the items she always told him they needed for a walk. Her insistence on telling him every little detail had paid off. “Yes, we need all of those things. Especially the hat and sunscreen on a day like today.”

As they went inside to get ready, she thought about the different emotions this place brought up. She had faced heartache from the first instant she had arrived in Red Ridge, with Jack’s death. Even so, she felt more at home here than in any other place she had stayed. Was it time to think about staying in one place for a while? She looked back at the tranquil view. Even with the undercurrents, Red Ridge had plenty to recommend it.

* * *

Brayden’s role was straightforward. He was the lead search-and-rescue, or SAR, officer. If Frank Lanelli, the Red Ridge Police Department dispatcher, got a 911 call indicating a person, or group of people, may be lost or in danger, he immediately liaised with Brayden, who then took charge of the mission.

The situation dictated the response. The Coyote Mountains were an attractive tourist destination and most calls were about hikers who had wandered off the trail. Brayden and Echo could deal with those alerts without any additional assistance. Sometimes things were more serious. All the K-9 teams had a basic level of search-and-rescue training and, now and then, it was necessary for Brayden to mobilize a larger force. That usually happened if the weather conditions were poor, or the search continued for several hours.

There were occasions, of course, when the problem was just too big, or too dangerous. It didn’t happen often. When it did, he needed to call in other emergency agencies. Brayden and Echo went on regular training courses with other SAR teams, as well as medical services, the National Guard and helicopter rescue crews.

Brayden spent a few hours at the start of each day in the training center. Together with Danica Gage, he had devised a program that kept Echo’s skills up-to-date and the dog’s fitness in peak condition. They reviewed the activities each month, looking at how Brayden and Echo worked together, analyzing the success of recent missions and comparing what they were doing to the work of SAR teams elsewhere.

When training was over, if Frank hadn’t been in touch, Brayden checked in at the police-department building. Half a mile closer to town than the training center, the pleasant, one-story, redbrick building was the headquarters for twenty-four officers, plus the twelve officers of the K-9 team. When he wasn’t out on an SAR case, Brayden was a regular cop. The only difference was, he kept Echo with him at all times so they were ready to go as soon as a SAR call came in.

The chief’s message had gotten through to Brayden. If he was going to keep a clear head, he needed to stay away from the Groom Killer case. That meant he was free to focus on the PD’s other big headache—the Larson brothers.

For the past year, the RRPD had been trying to pin something on the dangerous, wealthy and influential Larson brothers. Finn Colton believed the identical twins, Noel and Evan, who were blessed with good looks and easy charm, were running a growing crime empire in the city. Although they had busted a few low-level crooks, whom they suspected of working for the Larsons, the police hadn’t been able to get any of them to name their employers. So far, they had also been unsuccessful in their efforts to find out where the gang stashed their guns, drugs and laundered money.

Lorelei Wong greeted him from the front desk in her usual way, peering at him over the top of her silver-framed glasses as her fingers continued to fly over her keyboard.

“Anything on Richie Lyman?” Brayden asked.

Lorelei flipped through a notepad at the side of her desktop computer. “Nothing.”

Brayden frowned. Richie Lyman was bad news. The worst kind of thug for hire, the guy had a violent streak and enjoyed using it in his work. A known associate of the Larson brothers, the last time Richie had vanished was after a bar fight in the Pour House had landed his opponent in the hospital. When the other guy refused to give evidence against Richie, there were rumors he had been paid off by the Larsons. Richie was valuable to his bosses. The Larsons would rather send him out of town until the heat died down than have him end up in a prison cell. Finding another paid attack dog of Richie’s caliber wouldn’t be easy.

If the Larsons were planning something big, Richie would be in on it. When Brayden had called at the run-down apartment in the poorest part of town to question him, there had been no sign of Richie. Perhaps it wouldn’t have raised alarm bells except for the fact that Richie’s on-and-off partner, Lulu Love, was due to have a baby within the month.

“When you find him, tell him to get his sorry ass back here in time to see his kid being born.” When Brayden had busted Lulu for receiving stolen goods a few months earlier, she had listed her occupation as “exotic dancer.” There had been nothing exotic about her expression as she slammed the door in his face.

That had been almost four weeks ago. Brayden had put an alert out within the PD. Richie wasn’t wanted for a crime, but Brayden wanted to be informed of any sightings of him. Lorelei’s answer had been the same every day.

Brayden couldn’t find any reason for Richie’s current disappearance. Not that anyone within the Larsons’ inner circle was likely to confide in a police officer, of course. He found it strange that Noel and Evan would be without one of their most trusted operatives at a time when they seemed to be stepping up their activities.

A glance at the clock told Brayden it was close to noon. He tried not to involve his father, Rusty, in his job. There were too many personal conflicts arising from being a cop whose father ran the bar where the town’s lowlife criminals congregated. Now and then, a quiet word over the bar was the best way to find out what was going on. This seemed like one of those times.

“If anyone is looking for me, I’m heading out to the Pour House.”

Talking to Rusty about the Larson brothers and their hired thugs was not the way Brayden would have chosen to spend the next few hours, but at least it gave him a focus. And he could guarantee it would be a challenge. Something to keep his mind from straying toward the Red Ridge Bed-and-Breakfast. Because ever since he had met her at the dog show, Esmée had invaded his thoughts. He didn’t want her there, had done everything he could to force himself to concentrate on other things. It wasn’t like he had nothing else going on in his life right now.

The newest Red Ridge Gazette story had everyone talking about the latest rumor. Groom Killer Suspect Demi Colton Pregnant! Her Motive Grows Clearer!

Even with that headline setting the town alight, Brayden had been unable to entirely tear his attention away from Esmée. Telling himself it was because of her involvement in the case hadn’t worked. He wanted to see her again. It was a simple truth that made his heart race with a combination of excitement and fear. He had even taken the trouble to find out where she was staying.

It was years since he had last felt this way. That had ended in disaster and public humiliation. He wasn’t naive enough to believe that, having been burned once, he was incapable of feeling attraction again. He just didn’t understand why, after lying dormant for so long, his wayward emotions had to choose such an unsuitable target. Whatever the reason, he knew he had to do a better job of fighting it.

The most important thing he could do was stay out of Esmée’s way and hope she would soon be gone. Every time he told himself that, various reasons to drop by the bed-and-breakfast kept occurring to him. What harm could it do to take Echo to see Rhys? Find out how the little guy was getting on with his talking?

Do the words lame and excuse mean anything to you, Colton?

Undeterred, his mind found another motive for a visit. He should stop by the bed-and-breakfast to see how Corey Gage was doing. The sixteen-year-old son of the proprietor had landed himself in some trouble a few months back after driving his mom’s car into a wall in the early hours of the morning. No one had been hurt and Corey had gotten away with a caution. Privately, Brayden thought facing his mom would be a whole lot worse for Corey than dealing with the law. Wendy Gage was not known for her warm personality.

“Maybe I should forget the excuses. Just turn up with flowers and candy and ask her on a date instead,” he muttered, as he opened the rear door of his car.

Echo jumped inside, his tail thumping loudly in the confined space as he looked up at Brayden with shining eyes.

“I was being sarcastic.”

Echo gave a single, enthusiastic bark in response. Shaking his head, Brayden closed the door and walked around to the front of the car.

Great. Even my own partner thinks I’m a sad loser who needs to be pushed to make a move.

Chapter 4

Esmée paused at the top of a steep incline, breathing hard as she took in the view. When they started out, Rhys had been walking, but he had tired after an hour. It was about two months since she had used the carrier, and she was amazed at how much he had grown in that time.

“Talk about giving your mommy a workout.”

“Down now.” He wriggled to indicate his eagerness to be free again.

Esmée checked out the area. Although they were on a ridge above the forest, they were still on the gravel trail. On one side, the ponderosa pines soared above her. The sheer rock face rising high above the trees resembled cathedral spires. If Esmée tilted her head back far enough, she could just about see the blue sky beyond the rugged peaks. This must be the point known as Eagle’s Nest. In which case, Esmée estimated that she was standing right on the rooftop of the famous Red Ridge cave system.

On her other side, there was an expanse of brush and shrub before the ground fell away in a sharp drop down into the valley. She had packed bottled water, sandwiches and cookies in the pockets of the carrier. Beneath the trees on the wooded side of the trail there was a large, flat rock. It looked like a good place for a picnic.

“Okay. But you have to keep close to me.” She undid the straps on the carrier. “Stay away from the edge.”

Rhys eyed the drop warily. “Long way down.”

“It’s okay,” Esmée reassured him as she pointed to the trees. “We’ll be safe over there. Are you hungry? I sure am after carrying you all that way.”

She brought their food over to the rock she had chosen as a table, doing what she always did. Talking, explaining what was happening, soothing him with her voice. She watched Rhys carefully, happy when she saw signs that he was relaxed.

Although the sun was high overhead, it barely penetrated the canopy of branches that shaded their picnic spot, and Esmée didn’t object when Rhys removed his bright yellow baseball cap. When Rhys had finished eating, he began to investigate the area around the rock. Soon, Esmée’s lap was filled with a variety of stones, leaves and sticks. She leaned back against a tree trunk, content to watch him as he explored. There would need to be some serious negotiations about how much of this forest treasure trove they could carry home with them.

“Play hide-and-seek?” Rhys deposited another handful of pebbles in his stash as he asked the question.

Esmée looked around. They were in a circular clearing, surrounded by trees. As long as they stayed within these clear boundaries, there was no reason why she shouldn’t indulge Rhys in his favorite game. Besides, he was wearing a brightly colored, dinosaur-print T shirt. She would spot him easily in this natural setting.

Carefully she explained the rules to him. “You can’t go past that fallen tree trunk over there and this stone where I’m sitting now.”

For a two-year-old his understanding was good, and she didn’t need to spoil his fun by telling him she was going to do a little mom-cheating. As he skipped away to find a hiding place, Esmée counted out loud. She pretended to cover her eyes while watching him through her fingers. Rhys cast a quick glance around before ducking under the fallen tree stump that rested up against the face of the rock.

“Here I come, ready or not!” Placing Rhys’s precious new possessions in a pile on the flat stone, Esmée got to her feet.

Although she knew where he was, she made a big performance out of the hunt. “Fee-fi-fo-fum. Mommy’s gonna get you Rhys-baby.” His squeals of laughter rang through the trees. “Ain’t no hiding place good enough to keep you from me...”

After calling out a few fairy-tale-style threats, she eventually ducked her head under the stump. “Gotcha!”

Catching hold of Rhys around the waist, she started to tickle him until they both collapsed onto the ground, rolling around helpless with laughter. Rhys scrambled to get away from Esmée and back to his hiding place. The layer of dried leaves and pine needles under the fallen tree trunk had already been churned up and his sneakers were kicking up the loose dirt. Esmée paused as she caught a glimpse of something shiny close to his right foot.

It couldn’t be what she thought it was...

If it was, she didn’t want Rhys anywhere near it. Setting him on his feet, she gestured for him to stay behind her. “I need to check this out.”

“Snake?” His voice was half hopeful, half afraid.

Esmée laughed. “No, it’s not a snake. It’s just something Mommy needs to get a closer look at.”

Once he was safely out of the way, she kneeled and cleared the ground around the object, taking care not to touch it. Her heart began to pound as it became clear that her suspicions were correct. It was a knife.

It was a large fixed-blade knife with an overall length of close to twelve inches. The wooden handle had carved finger grooves and the blade looked like it was made from stainless steel. There might be any number of innocent reasons why this knife was here, half buried in this wooded area off the Coyote Mountain trail, but Esmée’s instincts were ringing alarm bells.

This wasn’t a big-game hunting area. It was too close to the town for anyone seeking deer, antelope, elk or mountain goat. But this was the sort of knife hunters used to skin their kill, and it looked new. The blade was lethally sharp, shining bright even in the shade of the trees. Except, of course, for the areas where it was covered in dried blood.

That was the main reason for her apprehension. Until Rhys had disturbed it, this bloodstained knife had been shoved under a tree trunk, hidden away in the remotest part of this secluded glade. Now that she had cleared the leaves away, Esmée could also see that the whole patch of ground beneath the fallen stump appeared odd. There was a deep rectangular area that looked as if it had been recently dug up.

At the very least, it all merited a call to the police. Her thoughts turned to Brayden. Not to any of the other two dozen or more officers in the Red Ridge PD. No, she had to turn this grisly discovery into a reason to call the very cop who had been on her mind anyway.

Before she did anything else, she needed to explain to Rhys that everything was okay. Reaching a hand behind her, she prepared to draw him to her side. Except when she felt for him, he wasn’t there. She got to her feet, whirling around in a panicky circle. Her eyes widened as they confirmed her worst fears. There was no sign of her son anywhere.

“Rhys?” Her voice sounded high-pitched, seeming to echo back at her within the circle of trees, confirming that she was alone.

But that couldn’t be the case. Rhys had been at her side mere minutes earlier. He couldn’t have gone far. Taking a few steadying breaths, she told herself it must be another game. He was hiding from her.

“Here I come. Ready or not...”

There were no answering squeals this time. Just that continuing, unnerving quiet. Esmée swallowed the hard lump in her throat and started to look around, her eyes searching desperately for his brightly colored T-shirt.

Just as the feelings of panic were becoming overwhelming, leaves crunched behind her and a twig snapped. She prepared to release an exclamation of joy, but the hairs on the back of her neck prickled, cutting her feeling of relief short. The footfalls were too heavy, the breathing too hard. She knew before she turned that the person right behind her wasn’t Rhys.

Sure enough, when she swung around, she found herself face-to-face with a man. Not just any man. With his shaved head and broken nose, this guy was huge. And he was holding a gun—a gun that was leveled directly at her.

Esmée’s nerves were already on high alert. She wasn’t going to wait around to see if negotiation was an option. Fear and anxiety gave her an extra burst of speed. As she darted to her left, seeking the cover of the denser trees, the man fired. It could have been her imagination, but she felt the bullet part the air close to her head before it hit a tree.

She heard a grunt and a curse before he came crashing after her. Her heart was doing its best to break free of her chest as she raced over the uneven ground, leaping over tree roots and pushing aside branches. She had no idea who this man was, or why he was shooting at her, but she had to get away from him. Most important of all, she had to find Rhys.

The guy was big and heavy, and Esmée used her smaller size to her advantage. He might be the one with the gun, but she was faster and more agile. Not daring to take a look over her shoulder, she ducked low and swerved in and out of the trees, hoping he wouldn’t be able to get a shot at a moving target.

She heard the crash of wood breaking and the sound of a large body falling. The curses became louder and angrier. Risking a look behind her, she saw her pursuer had stumbled over a tree root. He was clutching his ankle as he struggled to get up.

She couldn’t assume he was incapacitated. He still had a gun...and her baby was still missing. Slowing her pace just enough to pull her cell phone from the pocket of her jeans, Esmée breathed a sigh of relief to see she had a full signal. With fingers that were almost steady, she called 911.

* * *

Brayden pulled into the parking lot of the Pour House. Like its owner, the bar was at its best during the hours of darkness. Daylight wasn’t kind to the uneven porch and wooden boards that were in dire need of a coat of varnish. The wagon wheels decorating the upper floor were almost rusted away and the advertising posters plastered one on top of the other along the front facade were faded and unreadable.

Occasionally, travelers passing through would stumble across the Pour House and comment on its authentic charm. Rusty, fired up with dreams of fame and fortune, was forever predicting a new dawn. So far, it had never happened and he continued to scrape out a living from his regular customers.

It looked like Brayden had overestimated Rusty’s ability to get himself out of bed by noon. The bar was definitely closed and the drapes in Rusty’s apartment were drawn tight across the grimy windows. He knew from experience nothing short of a brass band marching through his room would wake his father, who slept like the dead. He was weighing his options when an SAR call came through.

“It was hard to catch the details because the caller was keeping her voice low,” Frank Lanelli explained. “Said she was hiding from a shooter.”

“A hunter?”

“Not the way she told it. The guy fired at her and she took off through the trees.”

Not a regular search-and-rescue case. “Location?”

“The way she described it, she’s in the trees on the ridge below Eagle’s Nest.”

Brayden went into organizational mode, listening to Frank at the same time that his mind processed the details and formulated a plan. He backed out of the parking lot, his route already plotted.

“The missing person is her two-year-old son, Rhys da Costa. Approximate height, three feet, weight about thirty pounds. Dark curly hair and dark brown eyes. Wearing a brightly colored T-shirt with a dinosaur pattern, blue jeans, white sneakers.”

Da Costa? Brayden tried to ignore the extra beat his heart had developed. He concentrated on pushing the personal feelings aside and keeping it professional. Even so, he spared a thought for the agony Esmée must have been feeling as she gave Frank that description. Her eye for detail shone through.

His own training kicked in. So many hazards to take into account. Put a two-year-old in any unknown outdoor situation and there would be danger. In this case there was a cliff top, a complex cave system and...a shooter? Frank had said Esmée was hiding from a gunman as she made the call. That meant she was also in danger. A guy whose first instinct when he encountered a woman on her own in the woods was to fire at her didn’t sound like a rational, law-abiding citizen.

“We could be looking at a hostage situation here,” he said, explaining his thinking to Frank. “Mom, kid or possibly both.” That was, if he hadn’t killed them by the time Brayden got there. It was an image he didn’t want inside his head.

“You want me to mobilize a team of K-9 officers?” Frank asked.

Brayden weighed it up. He didn’t know what he was dealing with. This wasn’t like a guy with a gun who was confined within a building. It wasn’t even the same as closing down a few streets to limit the movements of a rogue gunman. Both those scenarios were familiar procedures to the PD. But the area Frank had described was covered in dense woodland. Although the main cave system was lower down, there was another, more dangerous cave close to the place from where Esmée had called. The unknown shooter had a choice of hiding places. If he did grab Esmée or Rhys and the police turned up in numbers, things could get messy.

Brayden and Echo knew that terrain. They could cover the ground fast and do it stealthily. On the other hand, once he got out there and did an initial assessment, he might find he needed backup. Esmée had told Frank she had seen one gunman. That didn’t mean he was alone. If there were others...

“Put them on standby. Esmée da Costa is staying at the Red Ridge Bed-and-Breakfast.” He didn’t enlighten Frank about how he knew so much about Rhys’s mother. “I’m guessing she started her hike from there. I can get to her faster if I approach from the opposite direction. Have a team of six officers assemble at the Eagle’s Nest rest stop. My vehicle will already be there. Tell them to wait by my car until they hear from me.”

No matter how fast he drove, Esmée and Rhys were still up on that ridge in a dangerous situation. If she was hiding, he couldn’t risk calling her and alerting the shooter to her location. “Send Esmée a text message. Tell her to keep her cell on silent. Give her my number and tell her I’m on my way.”

He ended the call, knowing he could rely on Frank to follow his instructions.

Because the Eagle’s Nest area had become increasingly popular in recent years with hikers and cavers, the town council had built a rest stop a few years ago. Located on the main highway between Red Ridge and Spearfish, it was at a point where the road dipped close to the beauty spot. On foot, it would have taken Esmée close to two hours to reach the ridge from the town. Longer with a two-year-old for company. Brayden pulled in at the rest stop twenty minutes after Frank had called him.

It was twenty minutes during which anything could have happened on the ridge below him. He opened the back of his vehicle and took out his backpack, which contained essential safety equipment. As Echo jumped out, he checked his cell.

Please hurry

The unknown number from which the message had been sent must be Esmée’s. He sent a reply.

Describe your location

In a situation like this, Echo’s scent-specific skills couldn’t be used. Brayden didn’t have anything belonging to either Esmée or Rhys to give the dog to guide him. Instead, he would have to send Echo on an air-scenting search. This was a harder skill for a dog to learn, one that was taught after the animal had become proficient in trailing. Echo would probe the whole area, seeking human scent particles. He wouldn’t be detecting a precise scent. The dog would lead Brayden to any person he found.

It was a useful tactic because Esmée and Rhys had been separated, but it was also a dangerous one. There was a guy down on that ridge with a gun. He could be the first person Echo encountered and Brayden didn’t want his partner face-to-face with a potentially volatile shooter.

His decision as to which direction to send Echo in once he reached the ridge was crucial and it depended on how much information Esmée could give him. Her reply came as he started his descent.

Two large rocks. Shaped like angel wings. Near cave entrance

“Perfect.” From that description, Brayden knew exactly where she was. The Angel Cave, named for the distinctive rocks at its entrance, was located above the main cave system that was so with popular tourists. Although the limestone cavern was spectacularly beautiful, it was also deadly, with deep sinkholes and convoluted tunnels.

Stay there

The path down from the rest stop to the ridge was steep, but he and Echo knew it well. In the summer months, they came out this way several times a week. Even in the winter, the Coyote Mountains were popular with hardier visitors.

Brayden paused at a point where he knew he would have a view of the stones Esmée had described. Trying to see anything through the canopy of the trees would be impossible, but Esmée had described a location close to the rock face. The stones were known as the Weeping Angel rocks and were said to guard the entrance to the caves. From his vantage point, he might just be able to catch a glimpse of her. Even, possibly, catch sight of Rhys.

He saw her straightaway. Esmée was standing to one side of the Weeping Angel rocks. Even from an angle high above her, Brayden could see she was ducking down as though searching for something in the undergrowth. Rhys. Of course she would never stop looking for her son.

What Brayden saw next chilled his blood. Although he was still some distance away, a man was moving slowly toward Esmée. He was dragging his left leg as though injured. He held a gun in his right hand and his arm was already extended in front of him.

Esmée had her back to the guy, oblivious to his approach. Brayden was too far away to fire off a shot of his own and he couldn’t call out a warning. If he did, he risked startling the shooter into breaking into a run and grabbing Esmée or shooting when he got within range. The only thing he could do was get down there as fast as he could. He couldn’t even spare the time to send her a message.

The rest of his descent was a half run, half slither. He hit level ground at speed, hurtling in the direction he had seen Esmée. Echo kept pace with him as he reached her just as the gunman got within firing range. Esmée gave a little cry of surprise as Brayden sprinted past her. Keeping his head down below the shooter’s extended arm, he wrapped his arms as far as he could around the guy’s waist and slammed him to the ground. As they fell, he registered his opponent’s size. He was built like a tank.

The gunman’s bellow of fury rose to the treetops. Because of the guy’s size, Brayden had to keep the momentum of the surprise attack going. Conscious the whole time of the gun, he pinned his opponent down and punched him hard on the nose. Bone crunched beneath his fist and the shooter made a gurgling noise as blood welled.

Brayden grabbed the attacker’s wrist, bashing it hard against the rocky surface until he released the gun. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Esmée dart forward and grab it. With a burst of strength, the gunman broke free of Brayden, staggering to his feet. Spraying blood from his broken nose, he swung a punch at Brayden. Although he saw it coming and dodged before it could hit him full in the face, the guy’s sledgehammer fist caught Brayden on the side of the head.

Stars danced across his vision and pain bloomed inside his skull. He dropped to his knees, fighting the blackness that threatened to engulf him. A muscular arm tightened around his throat and he clawed wildly at it.

“Let him go or I’ll shoot.” Esmée’s voice seemed to come to him from a long way off.

Without warning, Brayden was free, thrown facedown onto the ground. Spluttering, he struggled to his feet in time to see the shooter running away through the trees. He moved with surprising speed for someone so big and who was impaired by a limp.

“What the...?” Brayden shook his head in an attempt to clear it. When he managed to turn his head to one side, he saw Esmée with her arms outstretched and the gun gripped in both hands. Her lower lip was held tight between her teeth and her face was white as a sheet. He moved carefully toward her. “Shall I take that?”

She handed it over as though it was burning her fingers. “I’ve never shot anyone...but he didn’t know that.” Her attempt at a smile went horribly wrong and the tears began to flow. Her next words confirmed that she had been powered by pure adrenaline. “Can we please find my baby now?”

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