Page 49 of Protecting the Newborn

That would be a given, but he still wasn’t on board. “So, what? We set up somewhere and lure the killer to us? Because he won’t be alone. And, heck, might not come at all. He could send more hired thugs like he did at the sheriff’s office.”

“He might be running out of hired thugs,” she muttered. “But if he’s not, then the plan should include capturing at least one of them and getting him to talk.”

Ruston huffed because there were so many things that could go wrong with this plan, and Gracelyn no doubt saw the skepticism that was still all over his face.

“Let’s map it out like an op,” she went on. “Then we can identify any weak spots and fix them. Only then do we go in. Only then do we put this into motion.”

“And what if the op is mapped out, and there are weak spots we can’t eliminate?” he asked.

“Then we come up with another plan, one where we can make it as safe as possible.”

Which wouldn’t be very safe if they were literally putting themselves out there as bait. Unfortunately, he thought the bait would work. The killer seemed desperate to eliminate them. Still...

His phone lit up again, and this time, it was Slater’s name on the screen. Yeah, no one other than Abigail was getting much sleep tonight. Slater hadn’t sent a text but was calling instead.

Hell.

This couldn’t be good, and he hoped the killer hadn’t already launched an attack here at the ranch.

Since Ruston didn’t want the sound of Slater’s voice waking the baby, he didn’t put the call on speaker. “Slater,” he whispered. “What’s wrong?”

“I just got a report that SAPD found another body,” Slater said.

That caused everything inside him to clench. “Is it Allie?” he asked.

“No,” Slater was quick to answer.

Even though he hadn’t put the call on speaker, Gracelyn obviously heard that, and she made a sharp sound of relief.

“SAPD thinks this one is a suicide. Or at least it was set up to look that way, with a single gunshot wound to the head,” Slater explained. “The dead guy is Zimmer.”

Chapter Thirteen

Gracelyn sat in the family room at the McCullough ranch, holding Abigail and waiting while Duncan was talking on the phone to Noah about the latest updates in the investigation. She felt drained. Numb. But she knew those feelings would have been much worse had it been her sister’s body that was found.

That was what she’d first thought when Slater had called hours earlier to tell them what had happened. Gracelyn had thought that Zimmer had gotten to Allie and had silenced her for good.

Instead, Zimmer was the one who was dead.

Gracelyn had read the preliminary report that Noah had done, and someone out walking their dog had spotted Zimmer slumped behind the wheel of his truck that was parked outside a long-stay motel. As Slater had said, he’d died from a gunshot wound to the head that appeared to be self-inflicted.

She wasn’t buying that.

And apparently neither was Ruston, Joelle, Duncan, Slater or Noah. Like her, they were all convinced that Zimmer had been murdered. Probably by the same person who’d already murdered at least three other people and had hired those fake cops to come after Ruston and her.

“You should eat,” Ruston said, tipping his head to the breakfast sandwich that was on the end table to her right. It was one of many sandwiches that Luca had dropped off from the diner.

Ruston leaned in and smiled at Abigail. “Hey, sweet girl.” He brushed a kiss on her cheek.

Abigail turned her head toward him, something she’d only recently started doing, and she studied Ruston for a couple of seconds before her tiny mouth bowed into a smile. The baby’s attention then shifted to his badge that he had pinned to his shirt. It was shiny, since it was new and had been delivered earlier, courtesy of Captain O’Malley. Gracelyn was glad the captain had made that kind of effort, because it showed she still had plenty of faith in Ruston as a cop.

“Want me to hold Abigail while you eat?” Ruston asked.

Gracelyn wasn’t sure her stomach was settled enough to handle any food, but it was obvious Ruston was concerned about her. Added to that, she really did need to try to eat something, since she couldn’t even remember when her last meal had been. So, she handed him the baby and picked up the sandwich. Just as Duncan finished his latest phone call.

“Time of death for Zimmer was about ten last night. The medical examiner agrees that it’s not suicide,” Duncan said right off. “The angle of the shot is off. Good, but off.”

“Close range or from a distance?” Joelle asked. She was in the chair next to Duncan and was eating a bagel that had been slathered with cream cheese.

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