Page 18 of Lone Star Hostage

“Owen,” she answered, debating if she should put the call on speaker. Owen made the decision for her.

“I hope Presley is with you because I’m with someone you’d probably like to talk with,” Owen said. “Hattie Sinclair.”

“Hattie,” Billie repeated, switching the call to speaker. It only took a couple of seconds for her phone to pair with the SUV’s Bluetooth.

“Yes,” Owen went on. “I tracked her down at her vacation cabin, and she’s agreed to speak with you.”

“No, I’ve agreed to give them a piece of my mind,” she heard Hattie snarl.

“Well, hopefully that’ll involve some talking,” Owen remarked with his usual unruffled tone.

“What I’ll say is this,” Hattie snapped. “Don’t drag me into the shit you’ve created in your lives. The cops called me. The cops,” she said, the venom going up a notch. “They wanted to know if I had any part in kidnapping that rich bitch, Victoria Wessington. Then, they asked me about you.”

“And what did you tell them?” Billie pressed.

“That you two are worthless pieces of shit who could get that woman killed. Just like you got my sister killed.”

Billie had known it wouldn’t take long for Hattie to work her way around to Sandy. “I’m sorry for your sister’s death,” Billie said for the umpteenth time. And it was the God’s honest truth. She was sorry, but what’d happened had been a tragic accident.

“Yeah, right,” Hattie grumbled. “Why the hell do you care so much about finding this rich woman when you didn’t care enough to get to my sister in time to save her?”

Billie looked at Presley, and they both frowned. “Do you know Victoria Wessington?” Presley asked.

“No,” Hattie spat out. “And that’s what I told the cops. I also told them what I’ll repeat to you. Keep me out of the shit going on in your lives. I want nothing to do with the two of you.”

Moments later, Owen came back on the line. “I’m taking you off speaker at my end.” There was a slight click. “Did you get what you wanted from her?”

“I’m not sure,” Billie said. “Does she have an alibi for, well, any of this?”

“No,” Owen answered. “The trifecta definitely applies here.”

Which meant Hattie had means, motive, and opportunity.

“Are you two okay?” Owen asked.

Billie gathered her breath. “We’re on our way to see Victoria’s stepkids.”

“Yeah, Ruby’s been sending me copies of the reports.” He paused. “Say hello from me next time you see Ruby.”

“I will.” Billie ended the call and then wondered about her boss’ tone. Not his trademark one. This had some…heat in it?

But she had to be wrong about that. Everything she’d ever heard was that Owen and Ruby despised each other.

“Yeah, I picked up on that, too,” Presley said when they exchanged a glance. “Ruby doesn’t have a lot to say about him.” He paused. “But I remember her once calling your boss the DV whisperer. What’s that about?”

Billie gathered her breath. “He handles the domestic violence cases. When there’s overwhelming evidence that a woman’s being abused and she comes to us for help, Owen takes the op pro bono. If the abuser is male, Owen goads the abuser into a fistfight, lets him land the first couple of punches, and then Owen beats the shit out of him. If necessary, he repeats the process until the abuser is either incapable of more abuse or he moves on.”

“That doesn’t sound very whisper-y,” Presley muttered.

“It’s Owen,” she settled for saying. “And it’s effective.”

“And what happens when the abuser is a woman?” he asked.

She looked at him. “Then, Owen sends in me, and I’m the one who goads, and wins, the fight.”

Presley whistled. “The man must really hate abusers.”

“He does. His daughter was killed by one.” And she winced a little, recalling that his mother had been murdered.

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