Page 9 of Fractured Memories

Felicity dug out the bottle of medication and downed two while Noah went through the coffee shop drive-through. Fifteen minutes later, the headache brewing at the back of her neck had been thwarted, and the caffeine running through her system provided a fresh jolt of energy. Noah turned into a run-down neighborhood near a set of old railroad tracks, and she studied the houses asthey passed. Many were taken care of beautifully, others were ramshackle.

Daniel Peterson lived in a one-story home at the end of a short street. Woods lined one edge of his property. The lake peeked through the edges of the trees. The mailbox at the end of his drive was crooked, the sidewalk cracked, and an abandoned tire sat in the front yard. Paint peeled from the siding. A top-of-the-line souped-up truck was tucked inside the open garage.

Felicity settled her cowboy hat on her head. “Well, Daniel doesn’t care too much about his house but takes great care of his vehicle. Is that the only one registered to him?”

“Yep.” Noah joined her on the sidewalk. His gaze swept their immediate surroundings, but the street was quiet. It was a weekday and most people were at work. An elderly neighbor stood in his front yard, watering some rose bushes. He lifted a hand in a wave. Both Felicity and Noah waved back before heading for the front door. “Daniel works the early-morning shift, so he should be home.”

He punched the bell. Chimes rang indoors. The blinds were shut tight and there was no movement inside. Noah waited and then knocked on the door directly. “Mr. Peterson, it’s the police.”

A gunshot erupted in response.

SEVEN

Noah’s heart rate skyrocketed as he automatically reached for his weapon while simultaneously searching for the shooter. Nothing on the street stirred. The elderly man they’d waved to earlier had gone inside his house. Another gunshot spilled through the neighborhood. A flock of birds took flight from a copse of trees as a third came in rapid succession. “It’s coming from the backyard.”

Felicity nodded. She held her own weapon. Together, they circled the side of the house. The backyard was unfenced, providing a clear view of the woods and lake beyond. Using the building for cover, Noah slid to the corner and peeked around.

A man stood inside a small building facing a target. He wore ear protection and goggles. Daniel Peterson. Noah immediately recognized him from the photo on his driver’s license. He let go of the breath he was holdingand lowered his weapon, glancing at Felicity. “Target practice.”

She heaved a relieved sigh and followed his lead by dropping her weapon. Neither of them holstered their guns though and wouldn’t until Daniel was unarmed. Noah palmed his badge before stepping away from the shelter of the house just as Daniel set his weapon down and removed his ear protection.

“Mr. Peterson.”

Daniel started and whirled around. He was balding, a few dark strands of hair clinging to the shiny scalp, but broad and muscular like a boxer. Sweat stains coated the underarms of his mud-spattered T-shirt. He squinted as if unable to see across the yard because of the sun.

Noah lifted his badge higher. “Knoxville Police Department, sir. Can you please step away from your weapon?”

Daniel’s shoulders sagged as he slunk away from the makeshift range. “Who called you guys? That old man at the end of the block? I ain’t doing anything illegal.” He waved a hand toward the woods. “The county requires ten acres of property before building a shooting range. I have eleven. I’m well within my rights. Mr. Broadshire is just a cranky old hoot with nothing to do.”

Noah placed his body between Daniel and the weapon for safety. He holstered his own gun. “No one called us, Mr. Peterson, but I will advise that while you are correct about the acreage requirement, the neighbors can report you for disturbing the peace. It might be wise to move your shooting range deeper onto the property.”

“I considered it, but I work long hours and don’t wanna have to hike across my land just to do a bit of shooting.” Daniel removed his eye protection and hooked the glasses into the collar of his T-shirt. “If you ain’t here about the shooting range, then what’s the problem?” His gaze flickered to Felicity. She was studying the handgun resting on the table behind Noah. Irritation creased Daniel’s bullish features. “Excuse me, ma’am, but I didn’t give you the right to look over my things.”

Felicity flashed her badge. “Texas Ranger Felicity Capshaw. The weapon is in plain sight, Mr. Peterson. I mean no disrespect. I’m fond of Glocks.” She tapped her holster. “It’s my preferred gun of choice as well. Although this looks like a Glock 19. Takes 9mm, correct? What kind of ammunition do you use?”

He frowned. “PMC Bronze. It’s the best.”

Noah didn’t take his eyes off Daniel, but his mind raced. The bullets recovered from Brooke had been 9mm. PMC Bronze wasn’t what the killer had used, but that meant little. Gun enthusiasts often switched between favorite brands.

Weariness flickered across Daniel’s face. “Seriously, what’s going on here?” He studied Felicity for a moment. “Capshaw. Isn’t that what you said? You used to know my sister, Brooke. She babysat you, right?”

“Yes, sir.” Felicity tucked her hands in her pockets in a casual stance. “Brooke is the reason we’re there. The Rangers and Knoxville Police Department are teaming up to take another look at her case. We’d like to ask you a few questions, if you don’t mind.”

Daniel blinked. “You’re… you’re reopening her case? After all this time? But… why?”

“The killer was never caught,” Noah said. “We want to change that.”

The older man seemed caught completely off-guard. Surprising. Half the town knew about the case by now, thanks to the flower shop owner, Maple Jennings. By tomorrow, the other half would know. But it made Noah wonder. How could Daniel have attacked Felicity if he didn’t know she was in town? Or that the Knoxville PD was looking into Brooke’s case?

“Let’s get out of the sun.” Daniel spun on his heel and marched toward the porch extending from the back of his house. He reached into a cooler and pulled out several bottles of cold water, handing one to Noah and Felicity, before uncapping a third for himself. He drank, draining half of it. “Sorry. I don’t mean to be rude.” He gestured toward a set of outdoor chairs. “You surprised me. I supposed Brooke’s murder was unsolvable. Do you really think you can get the guy who shot her?”

“We’re going to do our best.” Noah brushed a pine needle from the fabric and sat. A fan above them squealed as it rapidly turned in an attempt to offset the heat. “What can you tell us about the last few weeks of Brooke’s life? Don’t worry if it doesn’t seem important. Sometimes the small things matter.”

Daniel wiped sweat from the top of his head with the heel of his hand. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you much. Brooke and I were half-siblings. Same father, different mothers. We didn’t grow up together and our relationshipwasn’t deep. At the time of her murder, I was also going through a rough patch. My wife had just filed for divorce and was moving out.” His jaw tightened as if he was struggling to hold back his emotions. “It’s a shame. Brooke needed me back then, but I didn’t have time for her. Now, I could use a sister, but she’s gone.”

“What do you remember about the night she was murdered?”

“I went to work, like normal. I was working the graveyard shift at the sanitation plant. Eleven at night till seven in the morning. Came home in the morning and fell asleep. My wife and kids left for the day—school and work—so I was by myself when the officers came pounding on my door to tell me Brooke had been killed.”

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