Page 36 of The Sheriff's Baby

“They did,” Duncan muttered.

She heard something in his voice, some of his own bitter memories, and she thought this went beyond what’d happened in the past five months. Duncan hadn’t had the loving childhood she had. Just the opposite. From the bits and pieces he’d told her, his bio-dad had never been in the picture, and when he’d been six, his junkie mother’s boyfriend had killed her in a domestic dispute. Duncan ended up in foster care and bounced around from place to place until he landed with an elderly aunt who lived in Saddle Ridge. The aunt had died when Duncan was a senior in high school so he had no family to speak of.

Well, no family except this baby she was carrying.

“You’ll be a good dad,” she muttered.

It was the truth, but part of her wished she hadn’t spelled it out like that. It broke down yet even more of the barriers between them. So did the look he gave her.

A long lingering look that started at her eyes and landed on her mouth.

Thankfully, they didn’t have time to make the mistake of another kiss because there was a tap on the door, and Duncan practically came to attention. He moved away from the food, positioning himself between her and whoever opened the door a moment later. Duncan slid his hand over his gun. But it wasn’t a threat.

Ruston stuck his head inside.

“Good,” her brother said. “You’re awake.” Ruston glanced at Duncan’s stance and nodded his approval. “Glad you’re here and taking precautions.”

They had a suspect just up the hall and a possible missing gunman. Joelle figured there’d be a lot of precautions until they made some arrests.

Ruston went to her, helped himself to one of the grapes from her fruit cup, and then leaned down to kiss her cheek. He took hold of her chin, turning her face while he examined her. He frowned when his attention landed on the bruises on her neck and temple. The ones on the neck had happened when Willie Jay had put her in a choke hold. The other was from the barrel of his gun.

“The SOB will pay for that,” Ruston snarled.

Joelle didn’t huff or remind her brother that she was a cop and such things happened to those in law enforcement. Yes, she was a cop all right, but she would always be his little sister. So would Bree, even though there wasn’t a wide age gap between any of them. Each of the McCullough offspring had been born two years apart with Ruston the oldest at thirty-seven. Slater, thirty-five. She was thirty-three, and Bree, the baby of the family, was thirty-one.

“I can give you something that I think will help you make the SOB pay,” Ruston added to Duncan, and he took out his phone. “On the drive over here, one of the techs called me. Shanda didn’t have security cameras, but there was one on the street.”

Ruston pulled up something on his phone and held it out for them to see. It was the grainy image of a nondescript dark-colored car, but the graininess didn’t extend to the part of the photo of the driver.

“Willie Jay,” Duncan and she said in unison.

“Yep,” Ruston verified. “This was taken just up the block from Shanda’s house, and if you look at the time stamp, it means he was there right around the time Shanda was being murdered.”

Joelle felt a welcome wave of relief. Willie Jay would end up in jail for a long time, maybe even on death row. But that wouldn’t convict him of her father’s murder. Not unless they found a connection.

“We have Willie Jay’s gun,” Duncan explained. “The lab can see if it’s a match to the one used to kill Shanda.”

“Good,” Ruston muttered. “Since Shanda was murdered in San Antonio, SAPD will be charging Willie Jay with that, but I don’t want him to go unpunished for what he did to Molly and Joelle. I’d like to see him convicted on all charges with the sentences running consecutively. That way, even if he doesn’t get the death penalty, there’d be no chance that he’ll ever see the outside of a jail cell.”

Joelle got another wave of relief, but there was still that nagging thought running through her head. “I want to find a connection between Willie Jay and Dad’s murder. He might have been the one to pull the trigger.”

Since there was absolutely no surprise on Ruston’s face, Joelle knew that had already occurred to him. Of course, it had. Ruston had probably read every report connected to what had happened.

“I’m working on it,” Ruston assured her just as there was another knock at the door.

Like earlier, Duncan braced. So did Ruston. But it was Sonya who peered in, and the deputy was smiling.

“Molly had the baby,” Sonya announced. “A perfectly healthy girl. Seven pounds, three ounces, and I can attest to the quality of her lungs because she yelled plenty when she finally came out.”

Tears watered Joelle’s eyes, but these were definitely of the happy variety. “How’s Molly?”

“She’s great.” Sonya didn’t seem to be lying about that, either. “She’s totally in love already with her baby girl.” Now she paused. “I think that’ll help her get over the trauma of what happened.”

“Did Molly talk about the kidnapping?” Duncan was quick to ask, but the question had also been on the tip of Joelle’s tongue.

“Not much. And I didn’t press her on it,” Sonya admitted. “Molly mainly just wanted assurance that her kidnapper was behind bars. He still is, right?”

“He is,” Duncan verified.

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