Protective Order Page 9

  A lesson she deserved, he claimed as she lay bleeding and hurting on the floor. Later, he’d pulled her against him, comforted her, then run her a bath and sat beside her to nurse her wounds as she’d shivered in shock.

  But his plan had backfired. The rage had built inside her that night like a fire that couldn’t be extinguished. Instead of coercing her as he’d planned, he’d done the opposite. The first strike across her face had cemented her determination to leave him and given birth to hatred.

  Outside the wind banged against the glass, startling her back to the present. She swallowed hard to chase the memories back into the darkness, then summoned her strength. Tess’s sweet face flashed behind her eyes, and she wiped at tears.

  She hurried to the bedroom door and locked it, then dragged the dresser in front of the doorway. Furious at Robert for unnerving her with his games, she let the bathwater run down the drain, threw the rose petals into the trash and poured the champagne down the sink. The bottle went into the trash, then she snagged the lilies from the bed and added them to the pile.

  Fueled with adrenaline, she opened her laptop and began combing the dating site for a man named William or Winston who fit Robert’s general description. Twenty minutes later, after scrolling through a dozen Williams, and three Winstons, she found a possible match. William Roberts.

  Roberts? Could he have used his first name as his last in the profile?

  Again, the man’s face was hidden in shadows. He had a short beard, neatly trimmed, and stood by a Mercedes wearing a dark pin-striped suit. Enjoyed French wines. International cuisine. Had made his money in the stock market.

  His profile fit.

  She sent him a message saying she’d like to meet, then pulled on her pajamas, grabbed her gun and crawled into bed. She kept the bathroom light on and turned on her side, so she faced the door with her weapon gripped in her hand, ready to shoot if he decided to slip in during the night.

  * * *

  THE NEXT MORNING Griff showed up at the school assembly a half hour early to meet Jacob.

  “No word from Liam yet,” Jacob said. “But he’s investigating Ginny Bagwell, murders and attempted murders involving strangulation and arson.”

  Griff had thought about Ginny all night. Something wasn’t right with her story. If Jacob uncovered information he could share with her, maybe she’d open up.

  Both the principal and the school counselor, Linette Akron, met them in the gymnasium as the kids filed in. Griff was not a fan of public speaking, but this was a serious matter. He’d spent the morning compiling photos of the recent fires and had thrown a few less graphic shots of burn victims into the mix. His audience was young and impressionable, but God knows they’d become somewhat desensitized to violence and trauma from the news and school shootings and had to face the reality of the dangers of the fires. The counselor stood by in the event a student needed help or became emotional.

  The principal called the assembly to order and explained the reason for the meeting, then introduced Griff. Jacob situated himself by the door nearest where the two boys in question had been strategically seated.

  “We’re here today because of a very serious matter,” the principal began. “In the past few weeks, there have been a series of wildfires along the AT in our area, one of which was not far from the school and the town of Whistler.” She gestured to Griff. “Today one of our local firefighters from station house 7 is here to discuss these fires.”

  Griff stepped up to the podium and cleared his throat, then opened with a general explanation of arson. The PowerPoint he’d prepared showed pictures of the actual fires and how close they’d spread to campsites and a residential area. When the photographs of burn victims and corpses appeared, shocked gasps reverberated through the gym.

  “We’re discussing this today because we need your help.” Griff clicked to show a photo of the beer bottles and matchbook recovered from the scene. “These items were discovered near the point of origin of the fire.” Another photo revealed the lighter fluid. “Although it’s possible the fires were small campfires where someone was drinking and partying, then the fire got out of hand or wasn’t extinguished properly, evidence suggests the fires were intentionally set.”

  The teens in the room began to shift and make noises of discomfort.

  One of the boys in question looked panicked and glanced at the exit sign, but Jacob moved to the edge of the row where he sat, made eye contact with him and shook his head.

  “We need you to let us know if you’ve seen or heard anything, any chatter, about these fires at school, off the school grounds or online.” The students shifted again, fear and panic flitting through the group.

  Griff adopted a nonconfrontational stance. “I’m sure none of you want to see anyone hurt or killed by these wildfires. If you have information, please tell your parents, the counselor, or call the sheriff. Because if there are injuries or casualties, the arson charge will be elevated to manslaughter or possibly homicide.”

  More gasps, indicating he’d gotten their attention.

  The counselor stepped up to offer her services, emphasizing anonymity. She’d already established a special drop box for the students to report instances of bullying, drugs or weapons on campus, and urged the students to use it now.

  As soon as the principal dismissed the assembly and the kids began to file out, Jacob cornered the two boys in question. Due to the fact that they were minors, their parents had been asked to meet in the counselor’s office where the boys would be questioned.

  Jacob assured Griff he’d keep him abreast if he got a confession, and Griff paced the entryway in the school.

  All night he’d been haunted by images of Ginny being attacked or strangled.

  He hoped to hell she was safe.

  * * *

  HE THUMBED THROUGH the photographs he’d snapped of Reese while she darted around Whistler asking questions about Joy Norris’s murder. She’d thought she was hiding out all this time, and he’d let her believe it.

  Decided time and distance might make her miss him. Appreciate him.

  Laughter rippled in his throat as he traced a finger over her heart-shaped face. Joy had reminded him so much of Reese with her auburn hair that when he’d closed his eyes and pounded himself inside her, he’d imagined it was Reese.

  But then she opened her sassy mouth to talk in that nasal like voice, and he saw her face. Makeup smeared and too-red lipstick. She’d looked ugly.

  Just like the others. No one could replace Reese because she was perfect.

  And she was his.

  Once he got her back, he’d make sure she knew it. And she’d never leave him again.

  Chapter Ten

  Robert was toying with her. Playing hide-and-seek to frighten her. Enjoying keeping her on edge.

  And it was working.

  Ginny kept her gun in the bathroom while she showered and dressed. As she checked the dating site on her computer, her phone pinged that she had a message, and she quickly checked it. It was Thad Rigden, the real estate developer buying up the block of businesses housing Joy’s Nail Salon.

  The voice sounded slightly higher-pitched than Robert’s, but if this man was Robert, he could have disguised it. He suggested they meet for coffee at Mitzi’s at ten-thirty, so she agreed, then spent the next half hour scrolling through online dating profiles reviewing every William and Winston she could find.

  The man she’d pinged the night before responded that he’d like to meet her for a drink around five. She confirmed, then stowed her gun inside her purse, grabbed her jacket and headed outside. She checked the hallway in all directions, then hurried downstairs. Pausing at the bottom of the stairwell, she scanned the entryway and parlor. An older couple was enjoying coffee and a late breakfast, and two young women dressed for hiking rushed out the door, backpacks slung over their shoulders.

  A gu
sty breeze whipped her hair around her face as she stepped outside, and a cigarette glowed near a tree at the edge of the woods.

  Robert?

  He hadn’t smoked cigarettes when she’d known him but had occasionally enjoyed a cigar. She thought about the wildfires Griff had been putting out and wondered if Robert could possibly be responsible. Deciding she needed the exercise, she veered onto the sidewalk leading to the heart of town, keeping one hand securely on her purse to give her easy access to her gun if needed as she walked to Mitzi’s.

  A midmorning crowd filled the café, a mixture of retirees, campers and hikers preparing to set out on the AT. She waved to Mitzi as she entered, then started to take a booth near the front, but Mitzi motioned for her to follow her.

  “That real estate developer is back here,” Mitzi said as she led Ginny through the center of the café to a booth in the corner near the back.

  Ginny’s stomach tightened as they approached. The man was facing the rear wall with his face away from her. He had short, neatly groomed brown hair, and a gold signet ring glittered from his hand as he lifted his coffee cup for a sip.

  Robert had worn a gold signet ring with the letter R etched in the design. The imprint of it on her cheek had lingered for days after he’d hit her.

  * * *

  GRIFF WAITED FOR Jacob in the entrance of the school while Jacob questioned the two boys he’d identified as persons of interest. Memories of attending Whistler High flooded back.

  Griff had played defense on the high school soccer team and helped them make it to the state championships. School shootings and drugs and violence had not been part of his experience. Boys had roughhoused, enjoyed off-roading and met girls behind the bleachers to make out. Not one for online social media, he’d attended high school pep rallies, football games, dances in the gym and he’d hung out by the river with friends.

  On camping trips, his father had taught him and his brothers how to read maps, fish and kayak. He’d loved the fresh air, outdoors and endless miles of forests. Sure, he and his brothers had sneaked a few beers in their day, but they’d been harmless and respected the land and the people in town.

  His father had run for sheriff to protect the residents and had instilled the same values in him and his brothers. Each of them had become first responders to honor him.

  Then that fire had taken his life. Gone in a minute.

  Griff should have insisted his father stay outside that horrible day. His father hadn’t been prepared to run into the fiery building. Hadn’t been wearing safety equipment. No oxygen mask or helmet or fireproof clothing.

  But the fire had created such chaos, and with so many lives in danger, his father hadn’t thought once about joining the rescue attempts. Dozens of sick patients, disabled, people in wheelchairs and bedridden needed help. Mothers and children and babies were among the needy, too.

  They’d tried to save them all. And even then, they’d failed.

  Footsteps dragged him from the haunting memory. Jacob approached him, grim faced. Griff expected him to escort the boys to the jail, but he was alone. The teens’ parents were accompanying the boys through the exit.

  Jacob paused to shake hands with the principal and counselor, then joined Griff.

  “What happened? Aren’t you making arrests?” Griff asked.

  Jacob motioned for them to go outside, and they left together, then walked over to Jacob’s squad car.

  Jacob scrubbed a hand over his chin. “Both boys admitted to drinking in the woods, to smoking a couple of cigarettes and building a campfire on two occasions. But they claim they covered the fire with mounds of dirt before they left.”

  “Could have accidentally started back up.”

  Jacob shook his head. “That’s just it. Both kids have alibis for the nights of the wildfires that spread. Parents confirmed they were home studying for tests during the time of the first fire, and one of the teachers verified that the boys play baseball and had an away game during the time of that last one.”

  Griff muttered a frustrated sound. “If they didn’t set the fires, maybe some other kids are responsible.”

  “That’s possible, but I’m beginning to wonder if it was teens.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “The boys mentioned seeing a man in a long coat and hat with binoculars on a hill near the locations of the fires. They both insisted they’d seen his footprints around before, up around Raven’s Ridge.”

  “I’ll go back and search that area,” Griff said. “If whoever they saw is our arsonist, he may have left some evidence behind.”

  * * *

  GINNY SLID HER hand inside her purse and gripped her gun as she walked around the table. Her legs felt shaky, but anger heated her blood as she braced herself to face Robert once more.

  The man stood and lifted his hand, the signet ring glittering beneath the overhead light. This man was the right height and build, but his eyes were set farther apart, his nose slightly longer, and his forehead not as high. Not Robert.

  Relief mingled with frustration. Dammit, she wanted to get this over with. Make Robert confront her so she could...kill him? Could she really pull the trigger?

  Tess’s sweet face taunted her, and she swallowed hard. Yes, hell, yes, she could.

  But this man hadn’t killed her sister. She was wasting her time. Unless...he’d killed Joy and the similarities were coincidental.

  The man extended his hand. “Thad Rigden. You’re Ginny Bagwell, the woman who called about looking for property in town?”

  Ginny nodded and claimed the chair across from him. Mitzi appeared, and she ordered plain coffee while he ordered a latte.

  “Tell me about yourself, Ginny,” Thad said. “Where are you from and what do you do?”

  “I live in Asheville,” she said simply. “And actually, I’m a journalist.”

  His eyebrow rose. “I thought you were looking for property for a business.” He sipped his coffee. “Or did I misunderstand your message?”

  “I’m sorry to mislead you,” she said, deciding to opt for a half-truth. “I talked to Joy Norris’s neighbors and they said you offered to purchase her property. That you had plans to rebuild the entire block.”

  His friendly smile faded. “That’s true. Everyone except Joy agreed to sell. But I thought I could convince her to do so in time.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, I suspected she was holding out for more money, so I was working on securing a more lucrative deal for her.”

  “I see. But now that she’s dead, it’ll probably be easier to take over.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Actually, that’s not how it works. If she didn’t have a specific will dictating who the property went to, it will go into probate. That could take months which will slow down the entire project.”

  That was true. “Did she have a will?”

  Irritation carved frown lines around his mouth. “I don’t know. Since the police ruled her death a homicide, nothing can happen until the investigation is complete.”

  “One of the other store owners mentioned that Joy had a silent partner. Do you know who that was?”

  “No. If I had, I would have tried to convince him or her to talk some sense into Joy.” He studied her with hooded eyes. “Now, Ms. Bagwell, why are you asking me these questions?”

  Ginny knotted her hands in her lap under the table. “I had the impression the two of you were more than business acquaintances.”

  A flicker of unease settled across his features. “We had dinner a few times, but it was mostly business. I thought if I showed her my plans for the development, she’d be swayed into selling.”

  “But it didn’t work?”

  “No, she was stubborn,” he muttered.

  “That must have angered you, especially if your business plans relied on her cooperation.”

 
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “If you’re suggesting that I killed Joy because she refused to sell, you’re way off base. Maybe you should talk to the sheriff instead of running around making accusations.”

  “I did speak to him, but he isn’t sharing.”

  “That’s for damn sure. I asked him what happened, but he shut me down. Even implied that I might have killed her to get hold of her property, just like you did.” He released an angry sigh, stood and tossed his napkin on the table. “If I were you, Ms. Bagwell, I’d go back to Asheville. If you keep running around making accusations, you might end up like Joy.”

  * * *

  GRIFF CALLED FLETCH, explained his conversation with Jacob and asked him to meet him at the put-in to the trail near Raven’s Ridge. There, Griff led the way. Three miles in, they passed the point of origin for the latest wildfire.

  The ridge overlooked the burned area, so the arsonist could have set it, then climbed to higher ground and watched it sizzle along the forest floor, eating up leaves, twigs and brittle grass as it spread.

  Although crime-scene investigators had combed the area, he and Griff searched the territory again to make sure they hadn’t missed something. When they were satisfied they hadn’t, they climbed upward toward the ridge, following the path leading to the top. More rain threatened as dark clouds rumbled and swallowed the light from the sky.

  Griff and Fletch hiked past trees so thick they had to turn sideways to weave between them. When they reached the top, the steep overhang jutted out over the woods below and offered an expansive view of where the fire had started.

  The perfect place for an arsonist to watch his handiwork and bask in the glory as the flames licked higher and higher.

  Griff and Fletch divided up and searched separate areas, the threat of bad weather forcing them not to waste time. Near a cluster of hemlocks leading away from the overhang, Griff spotted boot prints that had been somewhat protected from being washed away by the rain the night before. He shone his light along the edges and thought they might be able to make a cast, then noticed a path of crushed weeds a few feet from the prints.