Page 4 of Lone Star Rescue

And then there were the questions he had about Tessa’s trust fund. Tessa had come from money. Plenty of it. Specifically, her father’s and late mother’s money, which, from all accounts, were both sizeable.

About three months after Tessa’s disappearance, Wade had said that a large chunk of money—about a half million dollars—had been electronically withdrawn from Tessa’s trust fund. If Tessa hadn’t done that, then that was something else that could lead back to the killer.

Rafe’s mind was already whirling with the possible threads of a murder investigation when there was the sound of another approaching vehicle. A Canyon Ridge PD cruiser. It got Wade’s attention as well because he lifted his head and aimed his gaze at the brunette woman in the dark blue uniform who stepped out.

Sheriff Bree O’Neil.

She was on the tall side for a woman. A solid five nine, and she still had a runner’s athletic body that had earned her a state championship in cross country back when they’d been in high school. Her hair had changed though. She no longer had the ponytail that swished back and forth when she ran but now wore it short and with a choppy cut.

When they’d been eight, Tessa, Bree, and he had become blood friends. A variation of blood brothers, but it had involved cutting themselves and going through the ritual of smearing that blood on each other’s wounds. It had also ended up with Tessa needing some stitches since she’d cut a little too deep in the wrong place on her wrist. She’d been damn lucky she hadn’t bled to death.

That memory came to a full-fledged mental stop because clearly Tessa hadn’t gotten so lucky after all.

But in those days, Tessa had been someone that people talked about. Oh, how she could light up a room, folks said. So beautiful, so full of energy. The flip side to that was the self-absorption that had surfaced in her teens. And the occasional stinging remarks Tessa aimed at those who didn’t have the fastest cars or the finest clothes.

From all accounts, that mean streak had gained some serious traction after her mother’s death when Tessa had been twenty-two. Then, Tessa had simply vanished.

Rafe yanked his focus back to Bree, who was now doing a cop’s sweep, glancing around the grounds. She no doubt thought this was a damn creepy place, what with the crumbling mansion with its paint-scabbed exterior and the overgrown gardens littered with weeds. Littered, too, with blank milky-eyed marble statues that seemed ready to charge at them like an army from hell.

Even from the twenty feet of distance that separated them, Rafe noted the deep breath Bree took and the dread on her face. Dread for what she knew she was about to see with those bones. But then her gaze shifted to him, and he thought she muttered some profanity under her breath.

Yeah, she was not going to like a consultant on her crime scene.

Maverick Ops had a stellar reputation for having the vast resources and top-notch personnel to solve hard cases that baffled law enforcement. Also, for rescuing kidnapped victims and providing personal security with trained bodyguards and equipment. That made them heroes in the various communities when victims finally got some hard justice.

Cops didn’t have that same opinion of them though.

Most cops tended to see consultants as renegades who cut corners. Corners they themselves couldn’t cut because their hands were legally tied because of the badges they wore.

The cops were right.

But Rafe always thought the bottom line was what mattered most. And the bottom line for him was that justice was worth cutting the occasional corners. It was worth pretty much everything, and it was a damn pisser of a bitter pill to swallow when that justice never came.

Ready to do some verbal sparring with his childhood friend, AKA the sheriff, Rafe stood from his stooping position while also easing Wade back to his feet. He kept a steadying arm around him though, in case the man tried to climb in the grave with what was left of his baby girl. Wade didn’t move though. He stayed put while Bree made her way toward them.

“It’s Tessa,” Wade blurted, the grief so thick in his voice that it was barely a whisper.

Bree looked at Ollie and her two deputies, Alice Wright and Carson Mendoza, for verification. Alice nodded. Carson lifted his shoulder in a noncommittal shrug. Ollie did pretty much the same. Only then did Bree shift back to Rafe, maybe looking for a tiebreaker verdict.

Rafe went with a noncommittal response as well. “It could be Tessa,” he settled for saying.

Bree made a sound that could have meant anything. Or nothing. And staying on the CSI stepstones as well, she made her way closer, peering into the grave.

Because Rafe was watching her so closely, he saw the muscles flicker in her jaw. Heard her swallow hard. Some of the color drained from her face.

She stood there a moment, obviously trying to steel herself up from the shock. As he’d done, Bree was probablyreliving some of that mountain of memories the three of them had made for the first twenty-two years of their lives.

Not all good memories, of course.

Not with Tessa’s often high-maintenance personality. But at the moment, it was memories about the living, breathing woman who’d once been their blood friend.

“Could I have a word with you,” Bree said, motioning for Rafe to follow her. It wasn’t a question.

“I called him,” Wade spoke up, clearly aware of the potential pissing contest that might be about to happen. “I want him here. He loved Tessa, and he’ll find out who did this to my baby girl.”

Yes, he had indeed loved her. Probably not so much during those last days when she’d been trying to talk Rafe out of going into the military. But once, there’d been love. And sex since Tessa and he had been each other’s firsts. Wade probably didn’t want to know that though.

“Keep an eye on Wade,” Rafe muttered to Ollie, and the ME immediately took Wade by the arm and began leading him away from the grave. Away from Bree and Rafe as well.

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