Chapter Twenty-Two

 

Grant watched Jessica Sheridan spin on her heel and walk away with brisk strides. It was the first time since he’d met her that she’d spoken so frankly to him. They were friendly, but their relationship was primarily a professional one and didn’t often extend out of the office.

He mulled her words, and two separate, distinct emotions shot through him: cold fear and the warm lightness of hope. Was she right about Juliet’s feelings? Part of him was ecstatic at the thought, while another part of him didn’t even want to go there. He had acute memories of how it felt to love and lose, and he would rather stay a bachelor than ever go through that again.

His head snapped around when Dr. St. Pierre left the room. “Is she okay, Doc?”

St. Pierre clasped his hands in front of him, the clipboard flat against his stomach. “She has a bump on the back of her head, but I don’t see any signs of concussion. Her vitals are good, she’s healthy, but she seems a little . . . dejected . . . .” His gaze turned speculative. “I imagine that’s more for personal reasons than it is injury-related.”

Grant didn’t bother to reply. St. Pierre sighed.

“I’ve ordered a CT scan and I’d like to keep her overnight for observation.”

“That’s up to you and her.”

“She doesn’t want to stay.”

He wondered briefly where she wanted to go and then pushed the thought aside. “Like I said, that’s up to you and her.”

St. Pierre stared at him for a moment, his expression unreadable. “Fine. An x-ray technician will be by shortly to take her to CT.”

“Fine.” Grant gave the doctor a tight smile. “I’ll wait with her.”

St. Pierre nodded. “Good. If her CT is clear, she’ll be discharged within the hour.”

“Thanks, Doc.”

“Anytime, Sheriff.”

Juliet closed her eyes as the door opened and she felt Grant’s considerable presence enter the tiny 8’ x 10’ room. She heard the soft scrape of metal on linoleum, as he sat down in one of the chairs against the wall, and the sigh that escaped him. Her heart lurched violently against the inside of her chest. She wanted to touch him, lose herself in his embrace and forget about everything she’d done. She wanted him not to be angry with her.

She’d felt the irritation coming off him in waves as he’d spoken, though his voice hadn’t betrayed that emotion. A thick, black clot of remorse clogged her throat.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly.

No, she wasn’t. “Physically, I’ll be fine,” she replied in a hushed voice. “I really didn’t want to come here, but I figured I’d better not argue with you.”

He was silent for a few moments. “And otherwise?”

“Otherwise . . . .” Her voice caught and she bit her lip as tears stung. She blinked them back. “Grant, I am so—”

“Forgiven, forgotten, don’t apologize again,” he interrupted. “I know you didn’t intend for this to happen, so let’s just move on, shall we?”

She wanted to curl up and disappear into the foam pad on the gurney. “But you’re still angry with me.”

“Not really.” He let out another long, deep sigh. “It’s the adrenaline,” he explained in a calm, level voice. “Once it gets pumping, and believe me it was, it takes hours for it to wear off. Until it does, everything is heightened . . . senses, emotions, reactions.” He paused and she chanced a glance at him. He sat with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. When he spoke next his voice was low, barely audible. “You scared the hell out of me, Juliet. I was in the middle of some crazy shit in Iraq and Afghanistan, but I don’t think I’ve ever been as frightened as I was today.” He looked up then and her chest tightened at the concern she saw in those usually smiling eyes. “I have lost . . . too many people I care about.” He paused and took a shuddering breath. “I don’t want to lose you, too.”

Juliet sat up and tears welled. Grant left his chair, sat down on the edge of the gurney, and gathered her in his arms. She curled up against him and inhaled his scent, his warmth leaching into her.

“Will you promise me something?” he asked.

“Anything,” she replied, “and this time I really mean it. Scout’s honor.”

He chuckled. “If you ever think of doing something that nuts again run it by me first. Give me the chance to help you . . . or talk you out of it.”

She took a deep breath and pressed her face into the curve of his neck as she exhaled slowly. “I promise.” Her arms wound around his waist, her hands moving slowly over his broad back. “And, if you can’t talk me out of it . . . just kiss me and that should do the trick.”

“Really? That’s all it would take?”

“Mm hmm.”

He kissed her forehead. “I shall remember that.”

***

Grant walked into his office just shy of noon. Jackson glanced at him and Sheridan waved him over.

“I’ve finished Juliet’s statement,” she said. “It’ll be on your desk in five. Simmons is still at the scene.”

“Thanks, Jessica. Where’s Detective Riordan?”

“Interrogation.” Sheridan’s brows drew together. “Where’s Juliet?”

“I had Autumn take her to my place. She’ll stay with Juliet until I get there.”

“She living with you now?” Jackson muttered.

Grant ground his teeth together and spun to face the deputy. “What is your problem?”

Jackson colored slightly but met his gaze. “I already told you. Get her to move on, Sheriff. Don’t fuck her.”

White hot heat erupted in the pit of Grant’s stomach and he hauled Jackson out of his chair. With one swift movement he had the shorter man pinned against the wall, much as Coulter had done to Juliet earlier. He pushed Jackson up the wall until they were eye to eye. The deputy’s feet dangled several inches above the floor, his heels knocking against the wood paneling. Grant heard the scrape of chairs as the other deputies sprang out of their seats, but he was too focused on Jackson to care.

“You listen to me, you son of a bitch,” he said from between clenched teeth. “I am done putting up with your bullshit. Like I said before, if you don’t like how I do this job, run for sheriff next election. If you find it too difficult to do your job between now and then,” he paused and jerked his head to his left, “there’s the fucking door. Nobody is forcing you to work here and, to be quite honest, I’d prefer it if you walked.”

Jackson stared at him with wide, bulging eyes, his face white.

“Grant, let him down.” The voice was Roberta’s, and he felt her hand on his arm. She didn’t pull on him, she just touched him gently.

His chest was hot and heavy and the adrenaline was back in full surge. He glared at Jackson for another few seconds then shoved him aside. He fell against a desk and Sheridan was right there, helping the stunned deputy to his feet.

Grant fought to rein in his anger. “Mouth off like that again, deputy, and I don’t care how much of a pain in the ass it is, I will fire you.” His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides, his vision edged in red. “Are we clear?”

Jackson straightened his shirt and nodded once, his gaze disbelieving and fearful. “We’re clear.”

Grant turned and strode toward the interrogation room. As he left he heard Sheridan say, “What is the matter with you? You pick today to antagonize him?” She snorted. “I’ve always thought you were a half-wit, Jackson, but even you should know better than to poke an angry bear. You’re lucky I’m not the sheriff. I would’ve put a fist through your teeth.”

Grant almost smiled.

When he reached the hallway outside the interrogation room he paused and took several deep breaths. His neck was tight, his shoulders bunched, and he knew he had to pull himself in. If he didn’t, what had started out as a very bad day could quickly go from bad to worse.

“Grant?” He glanced over his shoulder at Roberta who watched him with worried eyes. “Are you okay?”

He was really getting tired of people asking him that question. “No, Roberta, I’m really not.” He hung his head. “I wake up and Juliet has taken off, Coulter attacks her, I almost have to kill the guy, and for some reason Jackson thinks now is the best time to get lippy.” He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. “How much vacation time do I have stacked up?”

She chuckled. “A lot.”

“Maybe I should take some of it.”

“And maybe you should start the paperwork to get rid of Jackson.” When he lifted his head and met her gaze she grinned. “You’re going to have to do something about him, Grant. He undermines you at every turn, and that doesn’t play well with the other deputies. I have a feeling if he sent out a call for assistance, that assistance would not be in a hurry to get there.”

He squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I know, but I have more important things to worry about right now.”

“I know you do.” She walked up to him and patted his arm. “I’ll start the paperwork so when you do decide to kick him out, it’ll already be done.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

She turned to go and he grasped her arm lightly. The older woman paused, looked at him, and he released her.

“Before you do that, start the paperwork for a concealed carry permit for Juliet.”

Roberta’s silver brows drew together. “Doesn’t she have to be a legal resident for six months first?”

“Technically.” Grant wiggled his eyebrows at her. “But, since I’m the Sheriff, I can bend the rules on that one. If Mayfield comes after her, or sends another one of his underlings, I don’t want there to be any question as to whether or not she had the legal right to carry the weapon that put them down.”

Roberta’s expression sobered and she nodded slowly. “Right. I’ll do it now.”

Again she tried to walk away, and again he grasped her arm. She frowned and looked at him in silent question. Grant sighed and took her hand, his chest tightening. “Thank you, for everything you do. I don’t say it enough, and I want you to know . . . I couldn’t do this job without you.”

She squeezed his fingers and smiled. “Yes, you could, Sheriff. You’d just have to spend a lot more time behind a desk doing paperwork.”

He grinned and the tension in his middle released. “And that’s why I couldn’t do it without you. You know how much I love sitting behind a desk.”

“I do.” She patted his cheek and walked away.

Oddly enough, he felt much calmer now, but Roberta had that effect on people. He rubbed his neck absently, took several steps down the hall, and glanced through the one-way glass. Coulter was handcuffed to the table facing the window. Daniel was just pushing his chair back, so Grant waited for him to enter the hall. When they made eye contact, a light entered the detective’s eyes Grant hadn’t seen there before, and hope sprung to life in his chest.

“Tell me you have something,” he said.

“Well, our friend hasn’t said much,” Daniel replied, “but we have his cell phone and one outgoing text timed shortly after Juliet left the diner reading Evergreen Springs, Montana.”

Grant rubbed his chin. “So, he let Mayfield know where she is.”

Daniel nodded. “Probably, which means we can get ready for him. Let’s go to your office and get Steve on the phone, see if he’s managed to find anything else out.”

When Grant and Daniel walked through the main workspace Jackson was nowhere to be seen. Grant paused and looked at Sheridan.

“He decided to go on patrol,” she said, reading his mind.

“Good.”

They stepped into his office and he closed the door behind them.

“Problems?” Daniel asked as he eased down onto one of the chairs facing Grant’s desk.

“Always.”

“I guess being the guy in charge isn’t always fun.”

Grant gave him a bored look and sat in his chair. “Nope.”

Less than a minute later they were chatting live via webcam with Steve.

“Give it to me, brother,” Daniel said, his chair pulled up next to Grant’s.

The handsome Asian man grinned. “Well, we’ve executed warrants on Coulter’s home and office, seized his computers and records, and I’m working on getting his financials now.” He gave them a grim smile. “If there’s a link to Mayfield there, I’ll find it.”

“Good,” Daniel replied.

“How is Juliet?”

Daniel glanced at him. Grant propped his chin in his hand, his elbow on the armrest. “She’s fine. A little shaken up, but he didn’t have a chance to hurt her.”

“Thank God.”

“Any luck with that cell phone?” Daniel asked.

Steve shook his head. “Call went to a burner, so no, although we do know the receiver is in downtown Seattle, and Mayfield’s office is in the call radius of the cell towers activated. But, I have something else.” There was some typing and then a document appeared on Grant’s computer screen. “The document you’re looking at is the paperwork for a legal name change. James Coulter was born James Callaghan of Olympia, Washington. There were some sealed legal records pertaining to the name change that I just managed to get unsealed.”

“And?” Daniel asked.

“James Callaghan has a record, my friend, a fairly lengthy one. He has convictions for robbery, check fraud, assault, extortion, et cetera, et cetera. Served time at several different county facilities around Washington, and one two-year stint at FDC SeaTac. He also spent a year in Brookstone Psychiatric Hospital.”

When Daniel sucked in a breath Grant looked at him.

“The same hospital George Mayfield was committed to after he killed Wendy Braxton.”

“Exactamundo, my friend.” Steve lifted one narrow eyebrow. “The name change was submitted about six months after Coulter was released, which was about two months after Mayfield was released. Looks like our friend, Coulter, or Callaghan, chummed up to the right people.” A dark chuckle escaped him. “But, wait, there’s more.”

Daniel straightened in his chair. “What did you find in Wonderland?”

“I did some checking on Mayfield senior, tracked his movements over the past decade, and boy, oh boy.” His expression sobered. “I have a feeling we’re going to be closing a lot of missing persons’ cases, Danny.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” Steve paused and started typing, and moments later a map appeared on their screen, “Mayfield senior travels all over the US for business, all over the world, really. I have calls in to more than a dozen different law enforcement agencies, including Interpol, and I’ve already gotten some hits.”

Grant rubbed his brow. The map was dotted with dozens of red markers, obviously indicators of where Gregory Mayfield had been. The sheer number made his insides clench and started a dull throb at the base of his skull. He had a sneaking suspicion he wasn’t going to like what came next.

“I cross-referenced reports of missing slender, blue-eyed brunettes with Mayfield’s known whereabouts . . . .” Steve paused and took a deep breath. “Within 48 hours of his arrival in each of the cities marked there is at least one woman reported missing who matches Juliet’s description.”

Daniel’s eyes widened slightly. “Could it be a coincidence?”

“Statistically?” Steve shook his head. “Not a chance.”

Grant closed his eyes and ran his hand over his face. Sometimes he really hated being right. “Did you get anywhere with Mrs. Mayfield?”

“I did.” More typing. “I spoke with Carla Mayfield’s sister and her best friend. Both women told me that after Carla married Mayfield, what contact they had with her was little, far between, and often monitored by dear hubby.”

“Textbook abuser,” Grant mused, his mood dropping like a stone. “He isolated his victim, cut her off from anyone who could possibly help her.”

“Exactly,” Steve agreed. “Both women also told me that shortly before she died Carla confided she was going to divorce Mayfield. She said she was frightened not only of her husband . . . but also her son.”

Grant and Daniel looked at each other.

“Any chance we can get an exhumation order,” Daniel asked, “so our coroner can take a harder look?”

“Not yet,” Steve answered, “but maybe our mutual friend at the FBI can help with that. I spoke with Special Agent Vaughn yesterday. Looks like we’re going to be task-forcing it, Danny boy.”

“Looks like it.”

“And it looks like this thing is bigger than any of us thought it would be.” His eyes narrowed into mere slits. “Nice job, Sheriff. The FBI estimates there are close to 300 active serial killers in the US. Thanks to you . . . we might be pulling one, or two, of them out of active rotation.”

“I just noticed the pattern. If we make any headway it’ll be because of you guys and the FBI.” Grant sighed heavily, the familiar weight of responsibility pressing hard on his shoulders. “Let’s just get this asshole, or both assholes, before any more women wind up dead.”

“I’m with you, Sheriff,” Steve said.

“Me, too,” Daniel agreed. “Let’s catch these sons of bitches.”

***

“So, girlfriend, did you take notes?”

Juliet almost choked on her mouthful of Coke. Autumn laughed and bumped Juliet’s shoulder with hers.

“I told you I was going to want details. Did you not hear that?”

Juliet’s cheeks flamed and she closed her eyes as she put the can of soda aside. The river rushed over her feet but the cool water did nothing to lessen the heat fanning across her skin. “Autumn.”

“Oh, come on, girl! There are a lot of women in this town who wonder if Grant is as delicious in bed as he looks in those jeans.” When Juliet turned mortified eyes to the petite women Autumn shrugged one delicate shoulder. “I’m just sayin’ . . . .”

“I don’t know if I’m as delicious in bed as I look in these jeans,” Grant said from behind them with a chuckle, “but I stopped counting after orgasm number four. You, Juliet?”

Juliet pulled her knees to her chest and dropped her forehead on her knees as Autumn shot to her feet. The shorter woman took several deep, gulping breaths.

“Grant Donovan, you could give a girl a heart attack sneaking up on her like that!”

A chuckle rumbled in his chest, and Juliet felt the vibration of it from where she sat. She snuck a glance at him. He stood at the other end of the dock, thumbs hooked in his gun belt, looking incredibly sexy, totally at ease, and thoroughly amused.

“I’d rather give a girl a heart attack using other means.”

Juliet groaned and closed her eyes, her brow pressed to her kneecaps as embarrassment flooded her face with heat.

“I’ll bet you can, too.” Apparently Autumn had recovered. “Oh, if I wasn’t married.” There was a brief pause. “Four, huh? Did you really stop counting after that, or are you just being modest?”

He laughed. “What do you think?”

“I think you know the exact number, Sheriff,” Autumn replied in a saucy tone. “Ooo, I always knew you were an overachiever.”

Juliet thought briefly about jumping into the river. She’d be swept downstream and probably drown, but right now that was okay with her.

“There are . . . certain activities I like to put extra effort into,” Grant said.

“Mm hmm. I wonder what those are.”

The water looked more inviting with each passing second.

“Juliet can fill you in.”

Juliet ground her teeth together. “Leave me out of this.”

Autumn and Grant both laughed. Juliet kept her head on her knees.

“Thanks for staying with her, Autumn. I can take it from here.”

“You are welcome, Grant.” There was a brief silence. Juliet jumped when Autumn slipped an arm around her shoulders and squeezed, her lips close to Juliet’s ear. “Congratulations, girlfriend. And don’t worry about taking notes. You can give me a verbal account later, because I know you probably remember every minute.”

Juliet’s head snapped up. “Autumn!”

Autumn giggled and rose. Without another word, she hugged Grant and then sauntered toward the house. When she disappeared from view Grant walked toward Juliet. Juliet pressed her head back to her knees, her stomach swirling with a disconcerting mix of embarrassment and anxiety. She wanted to look at him, and yet she was afraid of what she might see in his eyes. Was he annoyed with her and Autumn’s “girl talk”? Was he still angry with her for earlier? She wanted to wipe away everything that had happened and see his sexy grin again.

He eased down beside her, his gun belt creaking softly. Several moments of heavy silence passed and Juliet dared a quick look at him out of the corner of her eye. She blinked and lifted her head. She had expected him to still be smiling but he wasn’t. His expression was vague, introspective, those bedroom eyes staring at the whitewater. Her heart sank.

“Are you still mad at me?” she asked in a whisper.

He shook his head slightly but his expression didn’t change. “No, darlin’.”

The endearment lifted her spirits somewhat, but not enough to completely banish the uncertainty swirling in her middle. “Then what’s wrong?”

“Too much to talk about.” He removed his boots and socks then rolled his pants up. Stretching his long legs out in front of him he dipped his feet in the water and leaned back on his hands. “Let’s just say your case has gone from stalking to a full-blown Federal investigation, complete with Federal agents and a Federal task-force.”

Her eyes widened. “What?”

“Yeah.” His brows drew together. “Sometimes I forget that the world outside Evergreen can be a pretty screwed up place, and a lot of the people aren’t much better.”

“Can I help?”

He looked at her then and a faint smile flirted with his mouth. “You already have, Juliet. You opened the door a crack. Our job is to kick it down.” He took her hand and pressed a kiss to her fingers. “I want you to stay out of it and let us do our jobs.” He pulled her closer. “Can you do that for me?”

“Yeah,” she replied. “I can do that.” The relief she saw in his eyes made her throat tighten. She dropped her forehead on his shoulder. “Are . . . we . . . okay?”

He laid his cheek against her hair. “We’re fine. We’re better than fine.”

She couldn’t stop the relieved sigh. He released her hand and wound an arm around her shoulders, drawing her closer to his side. Juliet drank in his essence and his fresh, clean scent. All the doubt, all the self-reproach, all the apprehension, fell off her and she settled against him.

The sound of the river washed over her and she felt his tension drain. When he’d first pulled her close his muscles had been taut, his posture stiff, but as the minutes passed he eased up. She smiled when he let out a soft sigh and brushed his lips over her brow.

“How are you feeling?” he asked softly.

Her arms wound around his waist. “Right now? Perfect.”

“You up to doing something with me?”

“Hmm.” She kissed his neck. “What did you have in mind, Sheriff?”

“Nothing to tell Autumn about,” he replied with a velvety chuckle. “At least . . . not right now.”

She made a disappointed sound. “Aw, why not?” Her tongue darted out to taste his skin and she nibbled his earlobe. He sucked in a breath. He pulled back and she met his dark and smoky eyes. Butterflies hummed against her insides. “You tired of me already?”

He threaded his fingers into her hair and molded them to her head. “I don’t think I’d ever get tired of you.”

Her body sang when his mouth crashed down on hers, every nerve alive and tingling with anticipation. He demanded entrance to her mouth and she gave it freely. His tongue explored, caressed, savored her, and everything else ceased to exist. Pulsing warmth started a slow, steady spinning in her nether regions, her nipples pebbled and ached for his touch. Then, just as suddenly as the kiss had started, it ended. He stood in one fluid motion and took several steps away from her.

“Damn, girl, you could make a man forget his own name.”

Her blood rushed in her ears, her breathing fast and shallow, and it took her brain a couple of seconds to catch up.

“I hate to be a bucket of cold water,” he said in a hushed voice, “but this thing isn’t over, Juliet, not by a long shot.”

She closed her eyes and took several deep, slow breaths, willing away the ache that throbbed low in her belly. When she had herself somewhat under control she stood and faced him. He stared over her head, his fists on his hips.

“Before Coulter came after you he sent a text,” he said. “It was just three words. Evergreen Springs, Montana.”

That hit her below the belt and her diaphragm spasmed.

“It’s not a matter of if Mayfield is going to show up here, it’s when,” he said. “When he does, I want you to be prepared.”

He was still staring over her head, so she framed his face and forced him to look at her. “What do you want me to do?” Grant slid an arm around her waist and gently pulled her to him. He studied her, and the tenderness she saw in those chocolate-brown eyes made her tremble.

“Shooting is a perishable skill,” he replied in a low voice. “If you have to face off with this guy, I want you to be confident in your ability to hit your target.”

“Okay.” She nodded and flattened her hands on his chest. “So, we’ll go to the range.”

The corners of his mouth moved up just a bit. “And then I’ll take you to the fair, if you’re up for it.” He cupped her neck. “After all, I did promise you a funnel cake.”

“You promised me ten,” Juliet corrected him.

One brow quirked up. “Which you turned down because you were worried about growing out of your toe shoes.”

She pressed a little closer and saw the flash in his eyes. “Yes, well . . . that was before I discovered the Grant Donovan horizontal workout program.”

An amused grin twitched about his mouth and the flame in his gaze burned a little hotter. “I seem to recall we weren’t always horizontal,” he said in a low growl.

That ache between her legs returned, slamming into her with full force, and her heart somersaulted. She loved the husky edge in his voice. It sent shivers through her, curling fingers of need that reached into the deepest parts of her and fueled her arousal.

His smile widened. “You’re giving me that look again, darlin’.”

She moved her hands up and over his shoulders, her fingers winding into the soft curls at the nape of his neck. “That bucket of cold water isn’t working.”

Grant splayed his fingers over her back, lowered his head, and brushed her lips softly. “Yeah, well maybe we have time for a quickie before hitting the range.”

Juliet’s breath caught when his tongue caressed her bottom lip and then stole into her mouth. He kissed her deeply, thoroughly, until she couldn’t breathe, didn’t want to breathe. A low moan escaped her when he broke the kiss to trail fire over her jaw and down her neck.

“Quickie,” she gasped out, “do you even know the meaning of that word?”

“Nope,” he replied, his tongue leaving a hot, wet trail over her collarbone, “but I’m willing to learn.”

She yelped in surprise when he tossed her over his shoulder and headed for the house.

“C’mon, darlin’,” he said, his voice filled with hidden promise. “We have things to do, and the first thing on that list . . . is each other.”