Page 6 of Into the Veins

“Within the past couple of weeks, but that’s not what I wanted to show you.” Agent Reese bent at the waist, her manicured nails clicking on the keyboard, just before a hazy black and white video filled one of the monitors. “This is the night Rachel Faulkner disappeared.”

The time stamp rolled second by second. A little after eight in the evening the day before Braydon Caddel reported his wife missing. Silence pressurized the air in his lungs. Time flowed into a heated, distorted fluid. Then he saw it. Rachel Faulkner pushed through the side entrance of the front gate on the screen and closed it behind her. In seconds, she’d disappeared from the camera’s view, and Colson leaned in to get a better look. For something—anything—that would tell him where their victim had gone. A flash of movement. Red taillights. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. “We were right. She must’ve called someone to pick her up.”

Agent Reese froze the image, but the pixilation was too distorted to read the license plate number of the nondescript vehicle leaving the frame. “That’s what it looks like, but I can’t get a much better image than this. The vehicle is too far away.”

“We need to find that vehicle.” Blair brushed against him in the compact space and resurrected a hint of her natural scent. “Whoever’s behind the wheel is most likely the last person who saw Rachel Faulkner alive.”

CHAPTER FIVE

“Security footage from the surveillance I reviewed confirms Braydon Caddel’s alibi.” January’s heels scuffed against cement as they descended the front steps. “The video shows him coming home three days ago, and the security company reports he hasn’t left the property since. As far as I was able to tell from the family calendar in the kitchen, Caddel has been regularly seeing an oncologist the past few months. His last appointment was the day after he said he and your victim argued about the divorce.”

“I’ll have one of my deputies get in touch with the physician to confirm. With any luck, we’ll be able to determine if Braydon Caddel had the physical strength to attack his wife and dump her body out there on that trail.” Blair’s gut said otherwise. She’d noted the dark circles under the man’s eyes, the way he’d used the doorframe for support, as though in pain, even the hollowness to his cheeks. She studied the sharp angles of the architecture looming over them as the sun dipped below the horizon. Shadows clawed toward her, and a shiver chased across her back. Sitting atop a hill looking out over the Lake Sammamish, the property seemed to breathe on its own like a large predator waiting to strike. Clutching Rachel Faulkner’s laptop under her arm, Blair nodded her appreciation. “Thanks for your help. I’ll let you know if I need anything else from the bureau during the investigation.”

“Are we still on for dinner next week?” January asked. “I promise not to force you to eat any more pigeons.”

“Yeah. I’ll message you.” A laugh escaped past her lips. A flare of heat bled up her neck and into her face as the private investigator she’d begrudgingly invited to consult on this case fixated on her.

“See you then.” January stretched out one hand, and Blair accepted, taken off guard as the agent pulled her in. Leaning close, her sister lowered her voice. “Try not to die loveless and alone. Give this one a chance.” January released her hand and pulled away, a wide smile revealing perfectly straight white teeth. She shook Colson’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Colson. Watch Blair’s back, will you? She’ll try to convince you she can do it herself, but something tells me this case is bigger than we think.”

Annoyance simmered under Blair’s skin as her sister descended the rest of the stairs as though January had forgotten her past experience with men like Colson Rutherford.

“Will do,” he said.

“I’m a federal agent. I know where to hide your body so no one will find it if you don’t keep your word, and I have friends who will help.” The criminologist retreated down the path toward her vehicle, rounded the hood with an amused glance, and collapsed inside her bureau-issued SUV. In less than a minute, January’s taillights disappeared through the property’s front gate.

“Agent Reese is… not at all what I expected from a bureau criminologist.” Colson’s deep laugh reverberated through her as Blair headed to her patrol car.

“January excels at her job with patterns and statistics, but she doesn’t have a great sense of people. She prefers numbers and data.” Her fingernails scratched against the laptop’s aluminum framing. She’d felt him watching her inside, assessing her every move. A deep swell of awareness prickled the skin along her scalp as Colson followed close on her heels. Blair wrenched open the back door of her cruiser and set Rachel Faulkner’s laptop on the seat. “I need to get this over to my tech guys at the main station uptown. Considering your vehicle is still parked at the trail head, I can drop you off at your place on my way.”

“That might be a problem.” Colson raised his gaze to hers over the roof of her patrol car, both hands leveraged against the cold steel. Tension climbed up his arms and highlighted thick muscle and tendon under slightly tanned skin, and her insides coiled with the sudden urge to test their strength for herself. “My vehicle is my place.”

Shock quickly replaced the brief hint of attraction sliding through her. “You live in your car?”

“Not having the means to keep a roof over my head and choosing to live separate from attachments are two different things, Sheriff.” Colson wrenched open the passenger-side door and ducked inside. Her cruiser swayed with his weight. “A hotel is fine.”

Blair had gone through his financials. He didn’t have the money for a hotel room. Hell, she doubted he had enough money in his accounts to pay for his next meal. He’d been counting on finding Rachel Faulkner alive and collecting his fee from her father. She pulled her wallet from her slacks pocket. Damn it. No cash. She slid behind the steering wheel and reached for the dash radio, pinching the push-to-talk button between her index finger and thumb. “13151 to Dispatch.”

“Go ahead, Sheriff,” dispatch said.

The weight of Colson’s attention pressurized the air in her lungs. “Dispatch, I’m returning to the main station with evidence from the victim’s home then calling it a night. Show me code 10-42, end of watch.”

“You got it, Sheriff.” The dispatcher’s voice broke up with static. “Have a good night.”

Blair reattached the handheld radio to the dash and inserted her key into the ignition. Staring out the windshield at the last remnants of sunlight reflecting off the lake, she refused to look at the man in her passenger seat. The moment Colson had stepped onto her crime scene this morning there’d been an unsettling alertness vibrating beneath her skin and straight into muscle. He’d threatened to derail the investigation and the very control that drove her to do this job by being there in the first place, but she couldn’t deny his insight into the victim today. Without the background information he’d gathered, the investigation would already be two days behind. He’d pushed the case forward, gotten them a credible lead, and put them one step closer to catching a killer.

None of that would change the fact that the deputies under her command had taken an oath to protect and serve this county. Private investigators were only out for themselves. Always would be, and there was only one way to ensure bringing Colson on as a consulting investigator wouldn’t backfire in her face. “I’ll send a couple deputies and a tow truck to retrieve your car from the trailhead in the morning. As for tonight, I have a guest room you can stay in.”

“That’s not necessary, Sheriff. You and I both know you want to get me off this investigation as fast as possible. Having me stay in your home is going to aggravate our working relationship even more.” His voice countered the unease rising within her at her offer, and for a split second, he almost seemed to warm to the idea. “I’m sure there’s a hotel somewhere around here with a vacancy.”

“And how do you plan on paying for it?” Blair started the engine and put her patrol car into Drive. The vehicle bounced over the pavers until she maneuvered out the front gate of the Faulkner property.

Colson stared out the passenger window. “You make a valid point.”

“That’s what I thought.” The leather steering wheel protested under her grip. Blair forced herself to breathe evenly, but the warning behind her sternum refused to let up. Bringing a PI into the investigation was enough to intensify the hollowness permanently residing in her chest, but she’d taken it one step further in the name of catching a killer by inviting him home. Colson Rutherford wasn’t the man who’d destroyed her family, but she’d learned enough about snakes like him to keep her guard in place. This offer hadn’t come out of the goodness of her heart. She’d use their time together to make sure he followed the law. She wasn’t going to let another private investigator take advantage of their client. Not if she could stop it his time. “It’s not a big deal. You need a place to stay until you can retrieve your car. I have an extra room. It’s temporary, but I’m warning you now, my offer doesn’t come with a complimentary breakfast.”

“Good to know.” Another laugh, this one softer than before, but still as gut-wrenching as the first that’d escaped up his throat.

That laugh punctured through the detachment she depended on keeping between them and threw another curveball into the mental dossier Blair had started building on him the moment he’d stepped on her scene. Colson was nothing like the PIs she’d met over the years. Playful, undisciplined, distracted. Everything she wasn’t. Everything she’d avoided since losing her parents at ten years old. It didn’t make sense. He didn’t make sense, but she couldn’t deny the challenge he presented.

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