Page 2 of Marked For Revenge

Monica Howell.

She was a hairdresser at the Sassy Curls Salon just off Main Street. Midthirties, divorced, no kids. But Monica did have parents who lived on a nearby ranch. They were good people and what could be called pillars of the community.

“She wasn’t reported missing?” the CSI, Veronica Reyes, asked, looking up at Ava and Theo.

Ava shook her head. If a woman had gone missing anywhere in the tricounty area, the Silver Creek Sheriff’s Office would have gotten an alert the moment the report had been filed. That meant Monica’s folks, friends and employer hadn’t known she’d been taken. That fit, too, with the killer’s MO.

The killer didn’t keep his victims long. Definitely not long enough to raise any serious red flags about them being missing. From what Theo and she had been able to piece together in the investigation, the other two victims had died less than an hour after they’d last been seen.

“Monica’s wearing her work clothes,” Theo pointed out when Veronica eased back the black plastic bags from the torso of the body. She was, indeed, since all the salon workers wore powder-blue tops with their names stitched on a breast pocket. “Maybe that means she was grabbed when she was leaving the salon.”

“Maybe,” Ava agreed, and she mentally went through the handful of businesses in town that had security cameras. None were anywhere near the salon, but that didn’t mean the killer’s image hadn’t been captured.

Obviously, Theo was on the same page as she was. “I’ll have the security camera checked from the traffic light on Main Street,” Theo said, stepping away no doubt to call whichever deputy was in the office at this hour. “We might get lucky.”

Monica certainly hadn’t gotten lucky. She’d been brutalized, murdered and then posed here like garbage. Swallowing hard, fighting back the bile rising in her throat, Ava forced herself to steady when she saw the truck pull to a stop behind the CSIs.

Oh, mercy.

What the heck was he doing here? It was Waylon McClintock, the mayor of Silver Creek, and often a thorn in the side of the sheriff’s office. Since Waylon was at the crime scene, Ava figured some thorniness was about to start.

Waylon wasn’t alone. Ava silently cursed when she spotted the lanky dark-haired man get out of the passenger’s side of Waylon’s truck.

Harley.

The CSI lights glinted off the Texas Ranger badge pinned to his shirt as he walked toward her. He was all cowboy cop down to the jeans, cream-colored Stetson and cowboy boots. He was even wearing the traditional crisscross double belt holster that some Rangers favored. It made him look like an Old West gunslinger ready to draw down on the bad guys.

“Deputy,” Waylon greeted in his usual gruff tone that always seemed to be a mix of rust and gravel. He glanced over at Theo, who was pacing while he talked on the phone.

“Mayor,” Ava greeted back, keeping her own tone hard. She shifted her attention to Harley.

Harley’s dark brown eyes met hers, and maybe there was an apology in them. Maybe. But, if so, it was brief because he skimmed his gaze over her baby bump. Just a glance before he turned his attention to the body.

“I heard about the murder from the dispatcher,” Waylon snarled. “Woulda been nice to have heard it from Theo or you.”

“We’ve been busy,” Ava informed him right back. “We came out as soon as we got the call and have been examining the scene. It’s Monica Howell,” she added. No way to keep the emotion out of her voice, not with this ripping away at her.

Waylon’s sigh was long and he squeezed his eyes shut a moment. “Hell, this is gonna bring her mama and daddy to their knees.”

It would, indeed, and Theo and she would be making the notification as soon as they finished up here.

“I know I don’t need to introduce you to Harley,” Waylon added with more than a touch of sarcasm as he tipped his head to Harley. “You can’t go wrong with the Texas Rangers, especially since you’ve found squat so far that’ll put a stop to these killings. I want these murders to stop. I want the people of my town to feel safe again.”

Waylon seemed to be geared up to add more but he hit the pause button when Theo walked back over to them. Theo nodded a greeting to Harley, who was family to him. Not by blood but in every other way. Theo had been raised by former sheriff Grayson Ryland after Theo’s parents had been murdered. Grayson’s father, Boone, had adopted Harley and his brothers after marrying their mother.

“You could refuse to work with Harley,” Waylon went on, talking to both Theo and Ava now, “but why the hell would you? Let him help you fix this problem before you have to tell somebody else’s family that their girl’s been murdered by a killer you haven’t been able to catch.”

The guilt didn’t just wash over Ava. It slammed through her. Because Waylon was right about them not having caught the killer. And, worse, Ava was positive she was the link to the killer. Not to Waylon, Theo, or to anybody else involved in this investigation. It was her face on those bodies. She was the connection, and Ava had to believe that, sooner or later, the killer would want to end the game he was playing by coming directly after her.

Waylon’s phone rang and, when he stepped aside to take the call, Harley turned to Theo. “This is sort of the devil-you-know kind of a situation,” Harley explained. “Waylon has connections, and he arranged for a Ranger to be assigned to this. I figured you’d rather me over someone else.”

“I would,” Theo assured him, but he glanced at Ava, no doubt to see if she agreed.

Of course, Theo knew about her history with Harley. Plenty of gossip in small towns for folks to know she was carrying Harley’s baby. Theo also knew that “history” involved her much-despised father. But Ava wouldn’t let that history play into this. Wouldn’t let the baby or the old heat between Harley and her play into it either. That’s why she nodded to let Theo and Harley know she wasn’t going to stonewall when it came to getting any help from this particular Ranger.

Harley nodded as well, and turned his attention back to the dead woman. “Tell me about Monica Howell. I went to school with her, but she was a couple of grades behind me so I didn’t really know her. She matches the profiles of the other two victims?”

“Monica was divorced and thirty-four,” Theo confirmed, reading from the background info he’d pulled up on his phone. “So, yeah, she fits the profile. Female, single or divorced, no kids, in their thirties.”

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