Page 74 of Losing Control

But as she turned toward the back door, an arm banded around her waist and a heavy hand slapped a foul-smelling cloth over her face. As she lost consciousness, all she could think was how stupid she’d been to think she was safe anywhere.

****

Cole met Tate very early at the drive-through for a quick breakfast. He was grateful his uncle didn’t mind hauling his ass into town practically at sunup so Cole could unload on him. He ran Dana’s theories past him, and Tate just listened, stirring his coffee. When Cole finished, he leaned back in the booth, waiting for Tate’s response.

“I’m not saying she’s right,” his uncle said. “But in case she is, she could be a target, too. The wisest and safest thing she can do is get the hell out of here as fast as possible.”

Cole snorted. “Don’t you think I know that? But I’d have more luck moving a tank.”

“You want to move a tank?” John Garrett slid into the booth next to Tate, holding his mug of coffee.

“He just wants to find a way to get Dana Moretti out of town.”

“Oh, well, good luck with that. She’s one stubborn woman.”

That was the most productive statement to come out of the meeting.

When Cole reached his office, he made a call to get the mess at Dana’s house taken care of. He was working his way through his first cup of Grace’s poison, sorting reports into a folder for Guardian when Grace buzzed him.

“Your visitor’s here,” she told him.

“He’s not a visitor, Grace.” He bit back his impatience. “He’s here to help us. Send him on back.”

Cole slid a folder across the desk as Scott Clayton lowered himself into one of the chairs.

“Autopsy and crime scene reports, although in both cases the victims were actually killed elsewhere. I’ve also included all the interviews we’ve conducted. And thanks for stepping up here.”

The thread of apprehension wrapped around his guts began to unwind. Maybe with the Guardian team coming in this morning, they could fast forward on this a little bit before another body turned up. “The quicker we get a handle on this guy, the faster we can identify him.”

Scott rested the ankle of one booted foot on the knee of the other, getting comfortable in the chair. “I don’t suppose you’ve got any coffee around this place. I was at the office at six this morning to talk to Zak and Nick before heading out here.”

“You drink Grace’s coffee at your own risk,” Cole warned. “But if you’re willing to chance it, I’ll get you some while you take a look at what’s in that folder.”

“I gather you drink it, and you’re still alive,” he joked. “So yes, that’ll be fine. Thanks.”

Gaylen leaned against the counter in the break room, sipping his coffee. “I’ve got everyone on regular duty until we know what Guardian wants. That okay with you?”

Cole nodded. “That’s good. Let me get my bearings with Scott. Then I’d like you to sit in with us.”

Gaylen gave him a penetrating look. “Thanks, Cole.”

That was all he said, but for Cole, that and the look spoke volumes. Whatever had stood between him and Gaylen Kleist for the past three years—if anything—was gone, and a new bond was forged.

Scott Clayton was still reading reports when Cole set the mug of coffee in front of him.

“Your people do a good job,” he said without looking up. “I’m impressed.”

Cole relaxed a fraction. “Thanks. They’ll be pleased to hear that.”

“What would be the best time for me to meet with everyone?”

“Shift change. I already gave them a heads up.” Cole sat back down in his chair. “I’d like to include my senior deputy as much as possible when Nick and Zak get here.”

Scott looked up at him and grinned. “Competition or cooperation?”

Cole lifted one corner of his mouth. “Cooperation. Hard won.”

“Good enough.”

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