Texas Ranger Showdown. Margaret DaleyЧитать онлайн книгу.
will.”
“I appreciate the offer, but I don’t want you involved. I don’t want the killer to contact you again.”
“What if I could help him?”
“How? Talk him into turning himself in? I don’t think so.”
Caitlyn straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. “It’s not unheard of. Police convince criminals to confess whenever they can.”
“That’s different. They’re trained to protect themselves and others.”
“And I’m trained to understand the reasons behind a person’s actions, whether logical or illogical.”
Ian headed for the entry hall. “I need to get back to the ranch. As much as I don’t want to, I’m going to wake Sean a couple of times tonight and make sure he’s all right. I worry about him slipping into a coma.”
“You’re brave. It’ll be like poking a sleeping grizzly bear.”
He chuckled, the tension from a moment ago evaporating. “Now that image will be in my mind when I do.”
“You’ll call me tomorrow and let me know how things are going?”
Her question made his spirits soar. “I look forward to talking to you.”
And the smile she gave him as he left the house sent his heartbeat racing.
On the drive to the ranch, Ian recalled different times they’d spent together, especially as teenagers. He knew the exact moment Caitlyn became more than a friend—at a New Year’s Eve party in her senior year in high school, when he’d kissed her at midnight. The connection had surprised him. After that he’d begun looking at her in a different light—as more than just a friend. But they’d been young, and life hadn’t changed them yet.
At the ranch, Ian parked in front of the house and let himself in. Silence welcomed him. The grandfather clock chimed midnight. He’d been gone longer than he’d thought. He took the stairs two at a time.
As he entered his brother’s bedroom, lit dimly by a single lamp, his gaze went immediately to the bed. Sean had turned over onto his back, half the covers thrown off him. His chest rose and fell gently. He looked peaceful now.
Ian sank into the lounge chair. Tired but not sleepy, he reclined and closed his eyes for a moment. He didn’t want his brother to wake up alone. Something was wrong with Sean. The first thing he would do was persuade his brother to see a doctor. The man in the bed wasn’t anything like he used to be. They had been close growing up. What had happened?
The bed creaked.
Ian opened his eyes to find Sean wrestling with his sheets. He immediately stood and hurried to his brother.
The thrashing increased.
Ian grabbed his shoulders and held him still. “Sean? Sean, what’s wrong?”
“Why, Jane?” tore from Sean’s mouth in anguish.
Did his brother even know she’d been killed? The news didn’t carry her death until the afternoon, and according to Alice, Sean had been holed up in his room.
“Jane!”
“Sean, wake up.”
Sean’s eyes bolted open and stared up at Ian. Then his brother blinked and yanked himself away from Ian.
“What are you doing here?” Sean asked in a clear, coherent voice, roughened with anger.
“Making sure you’re all right after hitting your head.” Ian straightened but stayed at the side of the bed. “Why were you calling Jane?”
Sean’s forehead scrunched. “I don’t know.” He pulled the sheet up and over his shoulders, then rolled over partway until his back was to Ian. “Go home. I’m fine.”
“I’m not leaving.” He stood by the bed, waiting for his brother to say something more.
After five minutes, Ian circled to the other side to find Sean was asleep—or at least he thought he was. Ian returned to the lounge chair. He was staying, no matter what his brother said. This was his ranch too, and his brother needed him.
As the hour passed, Ian’s eyelids became heavier and soon he fell sleep.
Four chimes sounded through the house.
Ian jerked awake. When he looked toward the bed, it was empty.
Where was Sean?
He scrambled to his feet, rushed into the hallway and searched every room except Alice’s. Then he headed outside and went to the barn. No sign of Sean.
Was his truck still at the ranch?
Ian jogged to the garage and stared at the empty place where Sean’s truck should have been. His brother was in no condition to drive.
Why did he leave? More importantly, where did he go, and why did he say Jane’s name last night?
* * *
Wearing the same clothes as yesterday, Caitlyn couldn’t wait to get home, take a shower and change her outfit. She entered the kitchen where she heard Emma and Granny talking. The scent of coffee spiked the air, and she desperately needed caffeine. She hadn’t slept well last night.
“Good morning.” Caitlyn crossed to the counter and filled a mug with her grandma’s special brew. “I wish I could stay, but I have to go by my house before the office.”
“You should eat breakfast.” Granny rose. “I can fix you something. Scrambled eggs with cheese is high in protein and fast to cook.”
“Sorry. A shower is what I need. I’ll grab an egg burrito on the way to work.” She kissed Granny’s cheek then Emma’s. “I’ll return your mug later today.”
Before they tried to persuade her to stay, Caitlyn hurried outside into the crisp air. She unlocked her Thunderbird, slipped behind the steering wheel and backed out of the driveway. After yesterday, she would always lock her car and put the top up, even if it was at her grandmother’s or her own house.
With the distance only three miles to her place, she pulled up to her home six minutes later, looking forward to a hot shower to chase away the early-morning chill. She walked up the sidewalk to her redbrick town house. She dug into her purse for her house keys.
When she retrieved them, she glanced up and opened her door. Inside, she turned to shut it and froze. Pinned to the wood with a knife was a photo of a prone woman with her arms folded across her chest—just like the one of Jane.
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