Lock, Stock and McCullen (The Heroes of Horseshoe Creek Book 1) Page 7

  Sheriff Jarvis gave her a curious look but directed his comment to Maddox. “Fill out a report on what transpired here and send it to me.”

  “I’ll write it up,” Maddox said. “But for now, let’s keep the investigation quiet. It might work to our advantage to let the perpetrator think he got away with killing me and Rose.”

  * * *

  NIGHT WAS FALLING as Rose climbed into Maddox’s car and they left the gruesome scene. Maddox had explained Rose’s situation, but Sheriff Jarvis insisted on hearing her version of the story.

  Telling it again drove home the fear that had swept over her at Thad’s betrayal.

  She wasn’t sure if Sheriff Jarvis believed her, but having Maddox on her side helped. Besides, Jarvis couldn’t arrest her for murder when they had no evidence that Thad was dead.

  “I think we need to talk to your parents,” Maddox said.

  Rose’s heart stuttered. The last time they’d spoken had been nearly a year ago.

  For years, they’d smothered her, not allowed her to have friends over to visit, had discouraged her from participating in school events and athletics. Once, she’d excelled on the track team, even catching the attention of the local press, but they’d forbidden her from attending the championship meet and denied the reporter the story.

  And now she was going to confront them about the possibility that she was adopted. She could just imagine their reaction.

  “You want to call them?” Maddox asked.

  Rose contemplated their reunion. In light of the fact that she could have died, she should appreciate her family. But nerves gripped her stomach.

  Still, if they knew anything about the picture or the reason Thad thought she was that missing little girl, she had to talk to them.

  “I can’t. I don’t have their current number.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “They only used prepaid cell phones.”

  “You never thought that was odd?”

  Rose shrugged. “I just assumed it was their way of limiting the minutes to save money.”

  “Where do they live?” Maddox asked once she’d disconnected the call.

  “Cheyenne.”

  “Then we’ll drive over.”

  * * *

  MADDOX PHONED HOME while Rose washed up at the barbecue restaurant. Mama Mary answered on the second ring. “How’s Dad?”

  Mama Mary sighed into the phone. “He’s resting now, but he’s had a rough day. He asked if you’d talked to your brothers.”

  Maddox gritted his teeth. “I called Brett and Ray and explained about Dad’s condition. Hopefully they’ll be home in a few days.”

  Although he wasn’t counting on it. Brett was hooked on fame and had too many women in his bed to want to leave them. And Ray...Ray had always been obstinate, angry, resentful.

  Maddox had never understood it.

  “Tell Dad I’m working an investigation, but I’ll be home when I can.”

  “I will, Maddox,” Mama Mary said, her voice worried. “I just hope your brothers come home before it’s too late.”

  Maddox’s chest clenched as she hung up. But his phone buzzed, and he checked the caller ID screen. The lab.

  He punched Connect. “Sheriff McCullen.”

  “Maddox, it’s Devon. I ran that blood you brought in. Type AB negative. The partial print was inconclusive—I’m afraid I didn’t find a match, although if you bring me one for comparison, I might be able to do better.”

  Frustration knotted the muscles in his neck. “Thanks, Devon. Isn’t AB negative a rare blood type?”

  “Yes, one out of one hundred people have it.”

  “Devon, can you search for donors or recipients of that blood type the last few months?” It was a long shot, but something might pop.

  “Sure. It’ll take time, though.”

  “Also, check military and criminal records. The name Thoreau didn’t show up in the databases I checked but he was probably using an assumed name. If he was trained as a sniper, or committed murder before, we might get lucky and find his real ID using that blood type.”

  * * *

  ROSE FIDGETED. Had her parents constantly changed phones to keep someone from finding them?

  “Tell me more about the Worthingtons,” Maddox said as they drove.

  “They’re homebodies. Although we moved around, once we got to a new place, they settled in. They didn’t entertain, we didn’t go out and they never got involved in social activities with neighbors or my school. In fact, when I won an award for track and a reporter wanted to interview me, they insisted I quit the team and forbade me from joining any other clubs.”

  Maddox gave her an odd look, his brows raised. “How about other family? Grandparents? Aunts and uncles or cousins?”

  “They said my grandparents were dead. And they never mentioned any other family.”

  “You said you moved around a lot?”

  Rose fidgeted. “Yes. I hated it. Just when I’d start making friends, we’d pick up and go, usually with no warning.”

  Maddox scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Did they ever seem nervous when you were in public? Maybe paranoid, as if they thought they were being followed?”

  The air around Rose seemed to fill with tension. “What? Why would you ask that?”

  “Did they?”

  Rose inhaled sharply. “Maybe a few times. My dad used to check the rearview mirror a lot. And come to think of it, when we went to a restaurant, he always went to the back and sat facing the door so he could see if anyone came in.”

  “Hmm.”

  “What are you thinking?”

  “I’m just wondering if they might have been in WITSEC?”

  Rose’s pulse stuttered. “Witness protection?”

  “Yes. It would explain why they moved a lot. They could have witnessed a crime and gone into hiding to keep you safe.”

  Rose lapsed into a thoughtful silence. “I guess that would explain why they discouraged me from making friends and being interviewed for the paper.”

  He nodded. “Although usually people in WITSEC change identities with each move.”

  Rose’s fingers lifted to the scar at her temple, a faint memory tickling her mind. Someone calling her Amber...no, Annabelle? No, Helen or...

  The name was on the tip of her tongue, but it eluded her.

  “Did any strange men or women come around, maybe someone who looked official, like a cop or marshal?”

  She looked out the window at the land passing, the headlights bouncing off the ruts in the road. “Not that I remember. In fact...” Another memory plucked at her.

  “What?”

  “Both my parents hated the police,” Rose admitted. “Dad said they used their power to get what they wanted. In fact, once an officer visited to talk about safety and fingerprint the kids in our class, but my parents kept me home that day.”

  Was Maddox right? Could her parents have been afraid for their lives and been on the run?

  Rose perked up at the sight of the familiar market on the corner of the neighborhood where her parents lived. It was an older development with ranch houses catering to the middle class. Nondescript. Nothing too shabby, but nothing showy, either.

  That had always been their motto.

  Don’t draw attention to yourself. Be a quiet little worker bee and never make noise.

  At the time, she’d interpreted it to mean that they were embarrassed by her.

  “Turn at the corner,” Rose said, anxious at the thought of seeing them again. How would they react to her surprise visit? Would they welcome her with loving arms? Or be furious at her questions?

  “Which house belongs to your folks?” Maddox asked.

  “The split-level at the end on the left.”

  Night shadows plagued the streets and yards, and a streetlight had burned out, leaving the last three houses in darkness. She leaned forward, her pulse quickening at the sight of the black sedan in the drive. Her father had always driven a black sedan
, never anything else. At one point, she’d actually overheard her parents arguing about that—her mother wanted a shiny new red SUV, but her father had balked, saying that red cars attracted attention they didn’t need.

  At the time she hadn’t thought much of it, only that her father was so conservative, he should have been born in a different era. Now...she wondered if there was another reason he hadn’t wanted anyone to notice them.

  Maddox steered the car into the drive, a frown pulling at his face. “The lights are off in the front of the house. It doesn’t look like they’re home.”

  Rose checked her watch. “It’s only nine. They usually go to bed at ten.”

  “Maybe they’re out?”

  “I told you, my parents never go out.” Rose reached for the door handle. “We’ve come this far. We might as well see if they’re inside.” Although as they approached the house, a sense of doom overwhelmed Rose.

  Maddox kept glancing around the perimeter, his movements cautious, as if he sensed trouble.

  This was her parents’ home, she reminded herself.

  For God’s sake. Her boring, sensible, sometimes difficult, smothering parents who had practically locked her away from friends and other kids because they were loners...no, once her mother had said it was to keep her safe.

  She’d thought her mother was just being overprotective.

  But...what if they had been in trouble?

  She knocked gently on the front door, but the house seemed quiet. No one was moving inside. No lights flicking on. Only a low light burned faintly through the sheers from the bedroom to the right.

  Her parents’ room.

  She reached for the front door to open it, but Maddox threw up a warning hand and gestured for her to step behind him.

  “Shh,” Maddox said. He pushed the door open, his boots squeaking on the parquet floor as he entered.

  “They always lock the door,” Rose whispered.

  Maddox nodded, then pulled his gun at the ready. She gaped at him, but bit her tongue. How could she argue with him for being careful after what they’d been through?

  The foyer was dark, the sound of the clock ticking in the hallway reverberating in the silence.

  “Mom? Dad?” Rose called.

  No answer.

  Maddox inched farther inside, and they glanced in the den. Nothing. The drip, drip, drip of a faucet echoed from the bathroom, and he gestured that he was going to check the bedroom.

  Rose held her breath as they crept down the hall.

  The moment they reached the doorway, a throbbing took root in Rose’s chest.

  Her parents were sprawled on the floor, facedown, blood pooled around them.

  Chapter Ten

  Rose gasped. This couldn’t be happening. Her parents couldn’t be...dead.

  “Don’t touch anything,” Maddox murmured.

  Rose pressed her sweaty palms to her mouth and stared at her mother and father in shock.

  Maddox shot her a sympathetic look, then coaxed her back toward the door. “Wait out here, Rose. Don’t touch anything.”

  She bent over at the waist, drawing in a breath, and he rubbed her back until she calmed. “Go to the kitchen. Let me handle this.”

  She shook her head, but then gripped the wall. “I can’t believe this. Why...?”

  He let the question stand. He didn’t have the answers now, but he would find them.

  Maddox inched closer to the bodies, careful not to touch anything as he snapped pictures with his cell phone. “It appears they both died from a gunshot wound to the back of the head. It looks professional, Rose.”

  Shock rolled through Rose. Her last conversation with her mother replayed in her head. Her father had been livid that she’d posted her picture on a social media site. She’d tried to explain that she’d only done so to make business contacts for Vintage Treasures, but he’d ordered her to take it down. Her mother had jumped in to agree...

  “I’m an adult now,” Rose said. “I’m tired of hiding out from the world. I can’t be a hermit like you.”

  Then her mother probed her about her friends and lovers. Rose drew the line and told them to let her lead her own life.

  “It’s not safe out there,” her father said.

  Rose was sick of his overprotectiveness. “If it were up to you, I’d live in a bubble. But it’s not up to you anymore...”

  Not safe? Had he known she was in danger? That someone would look for her and try to hurt her?

  “I need to call the local police and get a crime team,” Maddox said. “I doubt the killer left any forensics, but I have to go by the book.”

  Rose nodded, a numbness spreading over as grief engulfed her. She would never get to talk to her parents again, never spend another holiday with them, never...get to tell them she was sorry for the way they’d argued.

  For not calling to check on them in the last year.

  Maddox punched in a number, and she heard him explaining about finding her parents.

  As he hung up, he crossed to her and rubbed her arms with his hands. “Rose, are you okay?”

  She shook her head, emotions choking her. “How can I be okay? Someone killed my family, and...it’s probably the same person who tried to kill me.” She looked into his eyes, searching for answers even though she knew he had none yet.

  “Trust me, Rose. We will find out who did this,” Maddox said, his voice filled with conviction.

  She gripped his hands to steady herself and nodded. She believed him. But finding the killer wouldn’t bring back her parents.

  Even if they had the answers she needed, it was too late now.

  * * *

  MADDOX SILENTLY CURSED at this turn of events. He’d hoped to hell Rose’s parents would be able to fill in the holes regarding Thoreau and the picture on the milk carton.

  But someone had gotten to them first.

  He inched closer to the couple and stooped down to study the bodies. A single gunshot wound to the back of the temple. Execution style.

  Exactly as a professional hit man would do.

  The stench of death permeated the room, indicating the couple had been dead for hours.

  Had the killer murdered the Worthingtons, then driven to the cabin to sabotage him and Rose?

  Or were they dealing with two different perpetrators?

  Rose sank onto the edge of the bed, her complexion ashen. Maddox glanced around the room to see if anything had been disturbed, but nothing was visible. The killer hadn’t bothered to make this look like a robbery gone bad.

  Still, he was surprised there hadn’t been a struggle.

  “I’m going to look around before the crime team gets here.” Maddox kneeled in front of Rose. “Rose?”

  Her eyes looked tormented as she looked up at him. “Why would he kill them? They were just an ordinary couple—just like I’m ordinary.”

  Maddox gritted his teeth. He had a sinking feeling that statement was far from the truth. “If they were in WITSEC like we discussed before, maybe they could identify him.”

  “But if we were in WITSEC, why would my face be on a milk carton as if I was missing?”

  “Good question.” Maddox didn’t like the immediate answer that came to mind. That the Worthingtons had been criminals themselves, not just innocent victims or witnesses. That they’d kidnapped Rose.

  If so, who were her birth parents? Were they looking for her? And if Thoreau had been hired to find her on behalf of her birth family, why try to kill Rose?

  Unless the Worthingtons had kidnapped Rose to protect her from her real family? Perhaps her birth parents were afraid Rose would remember something incriminating about them...

  The questions needled him as he searched the dresser. Basic underwear, pajamas and T-shirts filled the drawers. The nightstands held very little—a pack of breath mints, a pencil and a crossword puzzle book that had several puzzles filled out.

  Maddox checked the bedroom closet. Slacks and men’s shirts lined one side while women’s bl
ouses, pants and shoes occupied the opposite. Dark drab colors, plain nondescript shoes, a conservative outdated suit, nothing dressy or showy.

  Rose claimed that her parents didn’t like to call attention to themselves. He’d bet his best horse that was for a reason.

  He searched the top shelf for anything that could shed light on the couple but found nothing but a baseball cap and a rain jacket. He ran his hand along the wall for a safe, but came up empty.

  As he emerged from the closet, Rose was sitting so still and looked so damn pale it made his chest clench. “Nothing in there.” He paused in front of her and stooped down to her again. “Come on, Rose, why don’t you look around the kitchen or the living room while I search the other rooms.”

  Her breath rushed out as she stood, and she let him lead her to the living room, where she sank onto the couch. “I should have talked to them more,” Rose whispered. “Told them I was sorry we didn’t get along.”

  Maddox squeezed her hands. They were icy cold, her body trembling. “Everyone argues with their parents, Rose. I’m sure they knew you loved them.”

  He quickly searched the living room, the coffee table, the drawers in the end table and the coat closet, but nothing seemed amiss. He visually scanned the bookshelves, noting a collection of various paperbacks, but no family photos. Not even a picture of Rose.

  Odd. Most parents chronicled their children’s lives as they grew up with photographs. It was almost as if there was nothing personal here at all.

  He noted the same thing in the kitchen. No pictures on the fridge. The refrigerator held milk, eggs, condiments, sandwich meat but little else. The freezer was stocked with frozen dinners stacked neatly and alphabetized.

  He rummaged through the kitchen drawers looking for business cards, a phone book, notes or bills, and found the electricity and water bill addressed to the couple. Nothing else.

  There was no computer or phone, landline or cell. He went back to Rose, worried about her.

  The Worthingtons were definitely hiding out.

  He bit back the words on the tip of his tongue. They might have died trying to protect Rose.

  But...if they had taken Rose as a child, they might have been running to protect themselves from being exposed as kidnappers.

  * * *