Page 12 of Colton's Last Resort

Laura tried to think about the situation at hand. “Mr. Knight had spoken to me about extending his stay in Bungalow One for a week or more. Why the change of heart?”

“He didn’t say,” Erica replied. “Roland asked me to find you. The detective from the Sedona Police Department is back.”

“So soon?” Laura said and missed a breath.

“A security person from the gate escorted him to C Building,” Erica told her. “He’s waiting in the break room.”

The police were back with more questions, just as Alexis had predicted. Laura offered a soothing smile to a passing patron before striding toward the exit, doing her best not to rush.

C Building was built in the same style as L Building and the bungalows, but the interior was spartan. Music piped softly from speakers. A fountain in the center of the atrium burbled and splashed pleasantly. Both had been Allison’s ideas. Extending the same sense of calm ambience to the employees’ building that guests enjoyed everywhere else had brought the Mariposa environment full circle.

Tears stung Laura’s eyes again. Allison had left a large footprint on Mariposa. She’d made it better for everyone.

Laura faced the closed doors of the break room. Halting, she took a minute to breathe and get her emotions under control. She couldn’t seem to still the little duck feet paddling under the surface. To make up for it, she encased ice around her exterior. Donning her professional mask felt as natural, as fluid, as freshening up her lipstick.

She pushed the doors open and stepped in. “Detective Fulton...”

The man who stood from a chair at one of the small bistro-style tables was not Detective Fulton.

She blinked in surprise. He was younger, taller, more muscular. His build distinguished him. He carried himself more like a brawler than a police officer. He had brown hair that grew thick on top and short on the sides, a full beard and mustache. A bomber jacket lay across the table. His black button-down shirt was tucked into buff-colored cargo pants, his belt drawn beneath a trim stomach with a bronze buckle. The pants looked almost military. So did his scuffed boots. He’d rolled his sleeves up his forearms while he’d waited, revealing a bounty of tattoos.

No, she decided. This definitely didn’t look like a detective. While his attire might have been military-inspired, he didn’t carry himself like a military man. More like a boxer. Shoulders square. Hands balled, ready to strike. His hair and ink made him look like a rock star.

He wasn’t restful on his feet. He shifted from one to the other, twitchy. His direct stare delivered a pang to her gut, a quick one-two. It was dangerous. Deadly.

Not a rock star, she discerned. A criminal.

She took a step back. “Who are you?” she demanded. The building was empty. The bulk of the staff was in the meeting with Adam at L Building. There was a phone on the desk in the atrium. She placed one hand on the parting of the doors. Should she make a run for it?

That direct stare remained in place. It felt like an eternity before one hand unclenched and sank into a pocket. A badge flashed when he pulled it out. “Detective Noah Steele. Sedona PD.”

She wanted to examine the badge. It looked authentic from a distance, but she hadn’t studied Fulton’s all too closely when he’d arrived this morning. She wished she could go back and implant the image on her mind so that she at least had something to compare to.

“What do you want?” she asked, forgetting her professional demeanor. Her feet itched to run.

His expression didn’t change. Neither did it lose its edge. “Are you Laura Colton?”

“There was another man here earlier,” she told him. “Another detective. Mark Fulton. He said he was the lead on the case.”

His gaze narrowed. She swore she’d seen a rattlesnake do that once on the hiking trails. Part of her tensed, waiting for the buzzing sound of the rattle.

“So, what are you doing here?” she challenged. “Are you really even a cop?”

“Lady, you’d do well not to insult me at the moment.”

She dropped back on one heel and crossed her arms.Lady?“Should I call Security and have your identity certified by them?”

“It was Security who dumped me here, away from everybody else,” he retorted. “Take it up with the meatball at the gate if you don’t like it.”

Erica did say that security personnel had escorted the detective to C Building. She frowned, opening her mouth to apologize.

He cut in, “You didn’t answer my question. Are you Laura Colton?”

“I am,” she said and watched, perplexed, as his eyes darkened and his fists clenched again. “It’s been a long day...Detective. I’m sorry for the misunderstanding.”

“A long day,” he repeated, low in his throat. He let out a whistling breath. Was that his excuse for a laugh? Mirth didn’t strike his expression. If anything, it tensed. “You’vehad a long day?”

“Yes,” she said. She had the distinct impression that he was mocking her—that he disdained her. The level of malice coming off him was insupportable. She’d just met him. What could he possibly have against her? “I’m sure you’re aware one of Mariposa’s employees was found this morning...dead.” She swallowed because her voice broke on that unbelievable word. “Isn’t that why you’re here?”

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