Kitabı oku: «Hostage At Hawk's Landing», sayfa 3
Melissa took the card, their hands brushing. She immediately jerked back as if she felt the same tingle he had.
Then she lifted her chin and reached for her purse. “I’m going with you.”
“You don’t need to do that.”
She pressed her hand to his arm. “Yes, I do. I want answers, too, Dex. I can’t get into the shelter right now anyway, and I’m going crazy sitting around.”
He conceded with a brief nod. No use arguing with Melissa. She might be tenderhearted, but she was also stubborn as hell.
Loud, arguing angry voices from a neighbor drifted their way as they walked to his SUV. Dammit, he didn’t like this street or Melissa living here alone.
They rode in silence to McTruitt’s office, a faded brick structure in a strip center outside of Austin. Except for a tattoo shop and fertilizer store, the other spaces were deserted, the exteriors run-down.
He parked in front of the building, scanning the property. A black sedan sat in the back parking lot. No one inside. It was too early for the tattoo parlor and the fertilizer store to be open.
A light glowed through the window, indicating that someone was inside. Maybe a secretary? Or McTruitt could have a partner? Damn. He should have done some research on him the night before.
But thoughts of wanting Melissa had distracted him.
He reached for the door to get out. “Wait in the car.”
“No, maybe I can help.” The silence thickened as they walked up to the building. The door was closed, but Dex saw a flashlight beam moving in the back.
Not a secretary. A man was tossing the place.
He pushed his hand in front of Melissa and murmured for her to go back to the car. But before he could, a bullet shattered the front window and sailed past his head.
Melissa screamed and ducked. He pulled his gun and shouted for her to get down.
Chapter Five
Melissa ducked to the side of the window, glass spraying as it shattered.
“Stay down!” Dex shouted.
She pressed herself against the front wall, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. Dex pulled a gun from his back pocket and fired through the hole in the window.
Inside, footsteps pounded and noises echoed as if someone was turning over furniture. Dex motioned for her to stay where she was, and he inched closer to the window and looked inside. Banging, then a man’s voice, and another bullet whizzed by Dex’s head.
Melissa screamed as he ducked to avoid being hit. He covered her head with his arms to shield her as another bullet flew past and more glass rained down on the front stoop.
She clung to Dex, the two of them hovering low until a few seconds later, the sound of an engine rent the air. The black sedan in the back parking lot shot around the side of the building, roared past, then flew onto the street.
Dex jumped up and gave chase, firing at the car’s tires, but the vehicle screeched forward and disappeared.
Melissa stood on shaky legs as Dex ran back to her. “Are you all right?” he asked breathlessly.
She nodded, the realization that she’d been involved in two shootings in two days sending shock waves through her. “Are you?”
“Yeah.” He removed his Stetson, scrubbed a hand through his shaggy hair, then set the hat back on his head with a grunt. “I couldn’t get the license plate.”
“What’s going on?” Melissa asked, trying to piece together what had happened.
“I don’t know, but I’m damn well going to find out.” He wiggled the doorknob on the front door, and the door squeaked open.
As soon as they entered, Melissa could see that the office had been ransacked. The space consisted of a small entryway with a desk and a door leading to the back. Through the doors, they found the main office, a large space with an oversize metal desk, filing cabinet and rolling desk chair. The filing cabinet drawers stood open, papers were scattered all over the desk and floor as if files had just been dumped, and the space on the desk where a computer should have been was empty.
“Either he had his laptop with him or someone took it,” Dex mumbled.
Melissa scanned the disheveled room. “What do you think they were looking for?”
Dex shrugged. “Who knows? Something to do with one of his investigations.”
“You think it was the person who hired him to find Jim Smith?”
“That’s possible. With McTruitt dead at Smith’s hands, whoever that was might not want his name to come out.”
“Or his motive,” Melissa said. “Do you think McTruitt was sent to kill Jim?”
Dex’s dark gaze met hers. “Maybe. If he had a file on Smith here, that would help.” Dex walked over to the desk, pulled on a pair of gloves and started rummaging through the scattered papers.
Melissa shifted, but stooped down on the floor to help search. He tossed her a pair of latex gloves, and she yanked them on. The fact that the person shooting at them might have already found that information and taken it was a real possibility.
But maybe they’d interrupted the intruder before he’d found it, and she and Dex would turn up something helpful.
* * *
DEX GRITTED HIS TEETH. He should call Lamar, but first he wanted to look around. He scoured through the papers on the desk, searching for any signs of suspicious activity, specifically anything with Jim Smith’s name on it or notes referencing the reason McTruitt was looking for Smith—and why he’d held Melissa at gunpoint to get to him.
According to Melissa, Smith hadn’t pulled a gun on McTruitt. It was the other way around, which meant that McTruitt either thought Smith was dangerous, or whoever had hired McTruitt to find Smith wanted him badly enough to tell him to use force.
Or...what if he’d been hired to kill Smith?
Ordering a hit would mean someone had motive.
There were pages of notes on old jobs, mostly cheating spouses, a couple of runaway teens, a case of a stolen dog, and other miscellaneous cases, nothing big or criminal.
“Do you see anything?” Melissa asked.
“Nothing on Smith. You?”
She shook her head and stood, then walked over to the wall and studied a photograph of McTruitt with a group of fishing buddies. Dex glanced at it, then strode to the filing cabinet and shuffled through the files.
The man may have had a computer, but he kept files alphabetized old-school style, with scribbled handwritten notes inside. Again, nothing on Smith.
On a whim, he checked the H section, hoping that the man had information on his father, but no file for Hawk. He started to close the file cabinet drawer, but a business card was stuck in the edge, so he yanked it out.
It was a card for a cattle auction site run by a rancher named Vance Baxter. Dex frowned. He’d heard of Baxter. The man’s business was booming. He worked with an expert breeder to raise prize studs.
He wondered why McTruitt had the card in his file, but didn’t see how it related to Smith or his own father. Still, he jammed it in his pocket.
Time to call Lamar and tell him about the shooting.
“We’d better step outside.” Dex took Melissa’s arm. “I have to report this to the police. I don’t want him to know we were snooping around in here.”
Melissa nodded. “You and Detective Lamar are friends?”
Dex shrugged. “He took me under his wing a few years ago. Since then, he’s thrown a few cases my way when he hit a dead end and manpower on the force was spread thin.”
Melissa frowned.
“You don’t like him, do you?” Dex asked.
Melissa shrugged. “I guess I’m not as trusting of cops as some.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Bad experience from the shelter?”
“And growing up.” A haunted look passed through her eyes, but she clammed up. Dex wanted to ask more, but Lamar answered the call.
“I came out to McTruitt’s office,” Dex said. “Someone was here and ransacked the place, and they shot at me and Melissa.”
Lamar exploded with a string of expletives. “I’ll be right there. And for God’s sake, don’t touch anything, Dex.”
Dex bit back a smile. “Of course not, Lamar. We’re waiting outside.”
Melissa was watching him with avid curiosity when he hung up. “You don’t trust him?”
“I didn’t say that,” Dex said. “But I’m not going to be shut out of this case. If the attack on Smith has anything to do with the other missing transients, I intend to find out.”
* * *
A FEW MINUTES LATER, Melissa stood with Dex on the steps to the building as the detective stalked toward them. Anger slashed his craggy features as his gaze traveled from Dex to her.
She forced herself to remain expressionless. She’d learned not to show fear or to react to the men who came to the shelter or she couldn’t be effective, and she refused to let this man intimidate her.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Detective Lamar growled.
Dex planted his feet apart in a wide stance, his arms crossed. He looked intimidating himself. “You know why. I want answers about my father—”
“Your father drank himself into a car accident,” the detective said with a note of sympathy to his voice. “Why would you think his death is connected to this Smith man or McTruitt?”
A muscle ticked in Dex’s jaw. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s not. But it seems odd to me that I found a card for a shelter in Dad’s truck, then other transients have gone missing, and now this shooting at another shelter.” Dex narrowed his eyes. “Something is going on, Lamar. You have to admit that.”
The detective rubbed a hand down his chin and sighed. “What I think, Dex, is that you still haven’t gotten over the fact that your father left, and that you’re trying to make something where there isn’t anything.”
Dex shrugged. “Maybe so. But you know I’m like a dog with a bone. I don’t quit until I get answers.”
“Then trust me to do my job. If I find out anything related to your father or that these incidents are connected, I’ll bring you in.”
Dex shifted, his jaw tightening. Detective Lamar angled his head toward Melissa. “And you. What are you doing here?”
Melissa forced her voice to remain steady. “I want to know why this PI wanted Jim bad enough to put a gun to my head.”
“She has a point,” Dex interjected.
The detective heaved a breath. “I’m looking into that, but what I don’t need is two civilians interfering.” He gestured to Dex. “Your friend was almost shot last night, and now you come here and are shot at again. This is dangerous, Dex. Take Ms. Gentry home and keep her out of this so she’ll be safe.”
Melissa curled her fingers into her palms and dug her nails into them, a trick she’d learned to control her reaction in confrontational situations. “I asked to come with him,” she said firmly. “Now why don’t you try to find out who shot at us?”
The detective’s brows shot up. “I plan to do that, Ms. Gentry. But it would make my job easier if I’m not distracted by worrying about the two of you.”
Melissa started to retaliate with a retort, but Dex took her arm. “He’s right, Melissa. Why don’t you wait in the car?”
Melissa bit her tongue. She didn’t like taking orders from either man.
She’d been taking care of herself all her life. She couldn’t stop now.
* * *
DEX COULD HANDLE a reprimand, but not in front of someone else, especially a woman he cared about.
Cared about?
Why had he thought that? He’d known Melissa a long time ago, but there was nothing between them now. Except his protective instincts kicked in full force when she was around. And he sure as hell didn’t want to be shut out of this investigation.
He and Melissa both wanted answers. Answers that he would find.
He brushed her back with his hand. “Melissa, please...?”
For a brief second she looked as if she was going to argue, but then she glanced back at Lamar, and nodded. He clenched his jaw as he watched her climb into his SUV.
Lamar was texting on his phone when Dex turned back to him.
“Tell me exactly what happened?” Lamar asked.
“Like I said on the phone, someone was inside when we arrived.” He gestured toward the parking lot. “I spotted a black sedan in the back.”
“Any other vehicles around?”
Dex shook his head. “No. The place was dark inside, except for a flashlight beam. That’s how I knew someone was in there.”
Lamar studied him. “Then what?”
“I looked in the window to see who it was, but then someone started shooting.” He walked over to the window and pointed out the broken glass. “Melissa and I ducked to avoid being hit, then I saw movement inside.”
“Was there one person or two?” Lamar asked.
Dex chewed the inside of his cheek. “One. At least I didn’t see anyone else.”
“How about the car? Anyone inside it when you got here?”
Dex shook his head again. “No. It was empty.”
Lamar scribbled something in his pocket notepad. “Did you see what the shooter looked like?”
“Afraid not. Like I said, it was dark inside. And he ran out the back.”
“License plate on the car?”
“No.” Dex felt like a failure as an investigator. Dammit, he wished he could offer more concrete information. But he’d been too busy dodging bullets and worrying about protecting Melissa to chase the bastard.
Lamar examined the window and peered through the broken glass. He dug a bullet casing from the window edge. “You said he shot at you. Did you fire back?”
Dex didn’t want to answer, but he had to. Lamar’s people would find two different types of bullets when they searched inside.
“Dex?”
“Yeah.” He removed his weapon from the back of his jeans and held it out to Lamar. “I fired twice. You can check.”
Lamar’s gaze met his. “Did you hit him?”
“I don’t think so. I was just trying to warn him off.”
Lamar scoffed. “You know I could haul you in.”
“But you aren’t going to,” Dex said. “Because technically I fired in self-defense. And you, my friend, don’t want to waste time when it’ll go nowhere.”
Besides, he hadn’t really crossed the line.
He would, though, if necessary, to find out the truth about Smith and what was going on with these shelters.
* * *
MELISSA WATCHED THE interchange between Dex and Detective Lamar, her curiosity piqued as to how the two of them had met and become friends.
Her phone buzzed, and she checked the number, expecting it to be her coworker April. Instead the name of the director at another shelter appeared. Candace Fuller from Retreat. She’d once worked closely with Candace and they still had coffee on occasion.
She quickly connected the call.
“Melissa, I heard about the shooting. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” Melissa said, then explained what had happened. “The police are looking for Smith, but I don’t think he’s dangerous. He saved my life.”
“I’m just glad you’re okay.” Candace paused. “There’s another reason I called.”
Melissa tapped her fingers on her leg. She didn’t like the worry in her friend’s voice. “What’s wrong?”
“A man named Bill Small at Retreat thinks something has happened to one of his friends. He claims he disappeared.”
“Did you report it to the police?” Melissa asked.
Candace sighed. “Yes, but they don’t seem concerned.”
Sounded typical. A crime scene van pulled into the parking lot, and she saw Dex heading toward her.
“Why does Bill think something happened to his friend?” Melissa asked.
“He saw the story about some other missing homeless men, and said his friend expressed concern over them, too. He disappeared the next day.”
Melissa’s breath stalled in her chest. “Is Bill still at Retreat?”
“Yes.”
“I’m with a private detective right now, Candace. We’ll stop by and talk to Bill.”
Chapter Six
Thirty minutes later, Dex parked at Retreat, his curiosity aroused by what Melissa had told him. Lamar’s last words echoed in his head.
“Let me do the police work. And leave Melissa out of it or you’re going to get her killed.”
His friend had always cautioned him about overstepping, but today his warning had sounded different. Almost like a threat. As if he didn’t stay out of it, Lamar would see that his PI license might be revoked? That he’d lock him up for interfering?
He didn’t give a damn. No one stopped Dexter Hawk when he was on a mission.
“Tell me about this shelter,” Dex said as they walked up to the entryway.
“Because of its location, it’s one of the busiest,” Melissa said. “I worked with Candace for a short while until a position opened up at Lend-A-Hand.”
‘Why did you make the move?”
Melissa shrugged. “I just saw a need,” she said quietly, but didn’t elaborate, making him wonder if it was one of the shelters she’d lived in as a child. Her father had dragged her around Texas, dumping them wherever and whenever he pleased.
“They house close to a hundred people here at any time,” she said. “We work with the court system and advocates for domestic violence and abuse to find places when needed for women and children, but there are a lot of men in need, too. This one stays pretty full most of the time.” She hesitated at the door and pressed the intercom buzzer for entry.
Dex swallowed hard as he scanned the property. It was set off from the street in a wooded section that shielded the cement block building from passersby on the road and was surrounded by a tall metal fence. For the residents’ protection or for the people who lived nearby in the housing projects that had been built a half mile from the shelter? Probably both.
The volunteer buzzed them in, and Melissa led the way. A young blonde about Melissa’s age greeted them and hugged Melissa, murmuring concern about the shooting the day before.
“Candace, this is Dexter Hawk,” Melissa said as the women pulled apart. “He’s a private investigator and a friend.”
Candace gave him an assessing look. “Hawk, that name sounds familiar.”
Dex offered her a smile. “My family owns a ranch in Tumbleweed. You may have read about my brother Lucas, who shut down a human trafficking ring recently.”
“That’s right,” Candace said. “And your other brother is a lawyer.”
“There are four of us,” Dex said. “My oldest brother, Harrison, is sheriff of Tumbleweed.”
Melissa cleared her throat. “Dex is looking into the man who saved my life yesterday. He’s also been investigating the disappearance of a couple of other homeless men who’ve gone missing.”
“You suspect foul play?” Candace asked.
Dex shrugged. “It’s too early to tell. But if someone is preying on these men, I want to find out who and why.”
“Can we talk to Bill now?” Melissa asked.
“Of course.” Candace led the way through a small entry into a large dining area where men sat finishing breakfast and drinking coffee.
She and Melissa stopped to chat with several of them, and Dex spoke to a few men, although they looked wary of him and didn’t have much to say. Maybe they thought he was law enforcement although he was dressed in jeans and his cowboy hat.
Seeing so many needy men made him wonder if he should talk to his brothers about hiring a couple as ranch hands. Something to check into. Although the safety of his family and the foster girls took priority. Still, if they grew the cattle side of the business, they’d need more hands.
Candace paused at a long table near the door to the kitchen where an old-timer in grimy overalls sat alone. She and Melissa exchanged looks of concern as Candace stood by the table. The young woman laid her hand on the man’s shoulder and leaned over to speak to him.
He gave a little nod, then looked up at Melissa. A tentative smile softened the harsh age lines bracketing his mouth, which tightened when he spotted Dex.
“It’s okay,” Candace said softly as she introduced him as Bill Small. “Melissa and Dex are here to help find out what happened to your friend. I need you to tell them your story.”
Bill glanced into his cup of coffee as if it would give him answers, then pushed out the chair beside him, inviting Melissa to sit down. Dex walked to the opposite side of the table and claimed a chair across from Bill, then accepted a cup of coffee from Candace.
“You a cop?” Bill asked with a wary look.
Dex shook his head. “A PI. My father lived in a shelter and recently died. That started me looking at the shelters for answers about him, then I learned that several men had gone missing.”
Bill’s expression softened. “Sorry about your daddy.”
Dex nodded. He couldn’t escape the grief. “Me, too. And I’m sorry about your friend.”
The simple exchange calmed Bill. He took a sip of his coffee, wiped his mouth on a paper napkin, then set the cup down. “His name was Harry Willis. I think something bad happened to him.”
“What makes you think that?” Melissa asked.
Bill drummed crooked fingers on the table as if trying to put together his words. “Harry was kind of a loner, about my age,” Bill said. “But he had a daughter.”
“Did he keep in touch with her?” Dex asked.
Bill shook his head. “Not really. But he recently learned she had a baby. He wanted to see that kid more than anything. He was saving up money to send to his girl, hoping she’d let him visit.”
Melissa murmured a sympathetic sound. “Did he go see her?”
Bill raked a hand through his thinning white hair. “Naw, at least I don’t think so. But one night he showed up here with a wad of cash.”
Dex frowned. “Did he say where he got the money?”
“Said he did a favor for someone, and they paid him. But that worried me. He wouldn’t say who it was or what he did.”
“Could it have been a drug deal?” Melissa asked.
Bill shook his head. “Harry didn’t do drugs, and would never have sold ’em.”
Money was a powerful motivator. “Not even for money to send his daughter?” Dex asked.
“No way,” Bill said firmly. “His son OD’d when he was only nineteen. That’s what drove Harry to the streets. The guilt.”
Dex understood about guilt.
“So what happened after you talked to him about the money?” Melissa asked.
“Next day he said he was going to mail it to his daughter. Left to walk to the post office but never came back.”
Silence, thick with tension, stretched between them for a full minute. “Maybe he decided to take it to his daughter in person instead of mailing it,” Dex suggested.
Melissa’s gaze met his. “Or someone could have stolen it from him.”
The implication that he’d been killed for the money rang between them, but neither voiced it aloud.
Dex mentally made a plan. First, he’d check with the daughter to see if she’d heard from her father.
If she hadn’t, he’d check police reports and the morgue in case Harry had shown up in jail...or dead.
* * *
MELISSA HATED THE thoughts running through her head, that Harry might be dead. The men who needed their help moved around constantly. She and her father certainly had. Sure, they became friendly with others staying at the shelter, but usually not for long.
The center’s goal was to help them rejoin the work force, and take charge of their lives. They facilitated family reconciliations through counseling, assisted in arranging financial assistance, and offered programs to aid in mainstreaming the men back into society.
If someone moved of their own accord, it was usually because they didn’t form attachments or weren’t ready to accept the help offered. Pride, depression, mental illness, addictions, physical injuries or illness, emotional trauma, past criminal activities, imprisonment and PTSD were contributing factors that landed the men on the streets and were obstacles to recovery.
“Did he have any friends that he might go to or turn to for help?” Melissa asked.
Bill scratched his chin. “Said he never stayed anywhere long enough to make friends. Got antsy if he was in one place too long. He used to work odd jobs on ranches across the state when he was younger. But arthritis kicked in and joints hurt too bad for physical labor.”
Melissa gestured around the room to the other men who were dispersing. “Did you ask to see if anyone knew the nature of the job Harry did?”
“Sure did. Ms. Candace talked to them, too. But no one knew anything about the money or where it came from.”
“You said he liked to move around,” Dex cut in. “Other than the money, what makes you think he didn’t panic about seeing his daughter and move on to another city?”
Bill pushed away from the table and stood, then picked up his coffee. “Come on, I’ll show you.”
Melissa and Dex followed Bill as he carried his cup to the counter and left it to be washed. In the bunk rooms, he went to the back wall and the bed at the end.
Bill squatted down and pulled an old duffel bag from beneath the bed, then set it on the cot. “This was all Harry had to his name.” His sad eyes met Melissa’s, then he removed a photograph and showed it to them. “This was the only picture he had of his daughter. Was taken when she was five. Harry never would have left without it.”
Melissa’s heart squeezed. Bill was right. Most people kept a memento of their past life that they clung to and carried with them wherever they went. Her father had held on to a pocket watch that had belonged to his own father. She’d kept a picture of her mother that her father knew nothing about. It was in her wallet now.
“There’s something else.” Bill carefully placed the picture back in the bag.
“What?” Melissa asked.
“The day he left, I saw someone watching him. A car, a black sedan, was parked down the street. When Harry started toward the post office, it pulled out and drove real slow behind him.”
Melissa’s gaze locked with Dex’s. The man who’d shot at them at McTruitt’s office had been driving a black sedan.
* * *
DEX’S SUSPICIONS KICKED up a notch at the idea of the same black sedan following Harry as the one at McTruitt’s office. It was possible it was a different car, but everything Bill said made him wonder if Bill was right to suspect his friend had fallen prey to foul play.
He gestured toward the duffel. “Do you mind if I look through that bag?”
Bill glanced at Melissa, who nodded that it was okay, and Bill moved aside to give Dex access. He handed Bill the photo. “Hold on to that. I wouldn’t want it to get damaged.”
Bill’s look of gratitude warmed Dex’s heart. He’d just won the man’s trust and respect. Bill ran his finger over the picture with a sad smile as Dex searched the bag. The larger section held assorted clothing. One outer pocket contained chewing gum, a fast-food wrapper from a burger joint and an empty water bottle. A small section in front held a few toiletries. He dug deeper into the inner pocket and discovered a slip of paper with a name on it.
Sally Layton.
“Was Sally the daughter’s name?” he asked Bill.
Bill nodded. “Yeah.”
A business card was tucked inside the folded scrap of paper. Dex flipped it over and saw it was a card for a large animal vet.
Dr. Bart Huckleberry. He specialized in large animal medicine and worked closely with an expert cattle breeder.
Why would Harry have a card for the vet in his pocket?
He tapped it on his hand. “Did Harry mention anything about a vet to you?”
Bill shook his head. “No, why?”
“I found this card in his bag. Maybe the vet is connected to the job he did.”
Bill shrugged as if he had no idea.
“I’ll talk to him.” Dex tucked the clothing back in the bag, but stuffed the business card in his pocket.
Sympathy tinged Melissa’s expression, and she patted Bill on the back. “Let us know if you hear anything from Harry. And we’ll do the same.”
Bill cradled Melissa’s hand between his. “Thank you so much for listening to me and trying to help.”
Melissa gave the older man a hug. “Of course.”
Admiration for Melissa and her role in helping these homeless men mushroomed in Dex’s chest.
Bill extended his hand, and Dex shook it. “Thank you, too, Mr. Dex.”
Dex cleared his throat. “We’ll do everything we can to find your friend.” He just hoped they found Harry, and that when they did, he was still alive.
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