Adrian Alonso had a two-year-old daughter. She’d been a prostitute and a junkie and had lived a high-risk lifestyle. But she’d had a daughter who had lived with Adrian’s mother.
Clay had held that little girl while Bailey did her best to soothe the woman’s mother while asking her the questions. The woman had looked at Clay with suspicion in her eyes, but she’d opened up easily to Bailey.
She’d confirmed that her daughter had had some troubles—Clay knew that was an understatement—but the victim sent money to her mother every week for her daughter. She’d voluntarily let the child stay with her mother because she’d known she wasn’t the best place for the child.
By her mother’s account, she was an extremely responsible mother who happened to have a drug problem she fed with prostitution.
It was a tragic story. Made even more tragic by how the young woman had died.
“Did Adrian mention a new man in her life?” Bailey asked.
“Not that I can recall. But she didn’t share information about her personal life. We both liked it better that way.”
Clay heard the pain and regrets and he understood. He wasn’t exactly close to his own mother, either. And he didn’t know if he wanted to fix that—or even how to go about it, if he did.
It just was.
“The last time you saw your daughter was...?”
“A few days before she was...found. She stopped by to bring Kadria some clothes she’d bought her at a yard sale. She comes by at least twice a week to see her daughter.” The woman wiped her face with an old lace handkerchief again. “You have any idea who did this to my daughter? I need to know. To tell the baby someday. Adrian was trying to get clean. She’d go to counseling two times a week in Finley Creek. Would talk to her parole officer on a weekly basis. She was really trying. My daughter, she wasn’t the brightest, Sheriff. But she was trying. She’s been trying since she had the baby.”
And she hadn’t deserved to end up in Lamar Sandoval’s bean field. Clay pushed back the anger. It wouldn’t be productive, and it wouldn’t help them find out who had killed the little girl’s mother. She was pulling on his collar and babbling. Giggling.
Perfectly innocent in a world that could destroy her.
Every one of their victims was someone’s daughter. Had been held just like he held this baby now. “Mrs. Alonso, I’m not going to stop until I find who did this to your daughter. He’ll pay for what he did, I give you my word.”
When he and Bailey made it back out to the Tahoe, the storms were picking up again. He checked his phone for any reports of warnings and for any updates from Deb, the dispatcher on shift now. Nothing so far.
They had a ninety-minute drive back from Childress to Value. If he pushed it. It would be close to seven before they were back at the station. They hadn’t learned much today, but had spent most of it going from dump site to crime scene. Trying to find someone who might have known more than they realized.
It had been long and tedious and unfruitful. But that was par for the course in these kinds of investigations. So was Clay’s determination.
Bailey was quiet as they drove the first ten miles. “She wasn’t making the best decisions, but she was there for her mother and daughter—as best she could.”
“She was trying. She didn’t deserve what he did to her. But how did she meet him?”
“We need to track her last few days as best we can. Because she came into contact with our killer somehow. And if we can find where that contact was, we may be able to tie the same contact to Missy Layne or some of the others.”
“Yes. What was it her mother said? Adrian was at her house a few days before we found her. And she met with her parole officer weekly—and went to rehab twice a week. That’s three events we can timeline there. Four if we count the visit with her family.”
“The Finley Creek ME estimates she’d been in Sandoval’s field three days before we found her. And that she died there of asphyxiation.”
“So her mother saw her probably on the day of, or the day before, she was actually killed.”
“That means our killer most likely saw her somewhere she’d been that week before. If we keep with the theory that she wasn’t meeting a Jon, but an actual date.”
“We’ll drive through Finley Creek around six. We can try to contact her parole officer.”
“I’ll do that while you drive. I don’t think there’s a medical connection with her.”
“It’s been a while. Maybe he’s evolved his initial contact methodology. It wouldn’t be surprising.”
“No, it wouldn’t.”
He listened as she tried to set up an appointment with the parole officer. The woman wasn’t available, but she did speak with Bailey over the phone.
After she disconnected, Bailey looked at him. “Adrian was in her office the day before she visited her mother, at 4:45. Her parole officer said she was doing well. No problems.”
“Then we need to find what rehab she attended.”
“Already have it on its way. The parole officer set it up for her, and is faxing Adrian’s file to Deb now. I’ll go over it tonight, then check with her counselor tomorrow.”
“We’ll grab dinner in Finley Creek when we drive through.” She wore her uniform, he was in jeans and green polo with TSP on the pocket. They weren’t exactly dressed for the Barratt. If they were, he’d take her there and spend an hour feeding her and trying to get that hurting look out of Bailey-blue eyes.
The little girl they’d both held had made what they were doing that much more of a sharp knife. Clay wasn’t blind to that.
Even though most of the bodies they had had been decaying for more than two decades, it was very real to them. There were loved ones out there, waiting for those answers. The truth.
They deserved the truth.
The rain pelting the Tahoe doubled. His hands tightened on the wheel. The storm showed no sign of letting up. “We are definitely stopping in Finley Creek. I’m not driving in this. We might run into a bigger problem on the highway.”
Every once in a while, the highway would wash out due to massive storms. Clay knew what that would mean—he and Bailey weren’t immune to weather simply because of their jobs. If anything, they were more likely to be caught in the middle of it.
And Mother Nature could be a real bitch in Texas.
He chose an out-of-the-way place that his cousin Powell actually owned, though she didn’t run it, and they waited out the worst of the rain.
The clouds were rolling in their direction after they were finished eating, but the rain had subsided enough for them to have basic visibility.
“This is going to last all night,” Bailey said as they passed the turnoff for Barrattville and headed more south toward Value. “We’ll have damages.”
“No doubt. But at least we don’t have to worry about Bracker’s Mill Road any longer.”
“Did the inspector forward you his initial reports? I wanted to take a look but haven’t had a chance yet.”
“I read over it. There were two pilings with notches cut pretty deeply. Crude, but effective at causing the bridge to bend like it did once the force of the water hit it.”
“And the boards in the center?”
“Cut right out with a saw. Probably took someone a while to do it, but it would have killed us if we’d gotten caught in it and the bridge bent around us.” He shot her a look as they slowed for a stop sign where the highway and a farm road intersected. “We were lucky.”
“Yes, we were. And after we find out who killed Adrian, we’re going to have to find out who did that to the bridge.”
“I’ve given the task to Jeff. He’s going to head up that investigation. He’s keeping Jeremy on it as well.”
He could have lost her, would have been forced to sit there, trapped.
Fury rose again. “We’ll find the asshole responsible.”
“I have no doubt that you will. I’ll probably be at Finley Creek then, but I’d appreciate you keeping me in the loop.”
“So you’re going to go, then?”
“Yes. I think it’s the best decision. I like forensics. I’m good at it. I think...I think I needed to come back to Value after what happened with my father. I couldn’t let myself run from it. I needed to see that I could step back into the life that I left before, exorcise the demons. Before I could move on. Let’s face it; you don’t need me specifically at Value. You just need a body in my position. But I can be more effective in Finley Creek. And I can go now, knowing that my father is not the reason, that I’m not running from being on patrol. That I’m making a conscious choice.”
“And it has nothing to do with me? Because if it does, if I’ve made you think—”
“It’s not that. The personal angle, I mean. Because I don’t run in my personal life, Clay. I never have, and I am not about to start with you.”
***
Bailey meant what she was saying. She’d come to a realization sitting there watching Clay hold that baby girl. Clay was made to be the sheriff. His place was out there with the people of Value. But hers...hers was in her head. Figuring out the puzzles. Understanding the how, while he figured out the why. She could be far more helpful to the TSP doing that, than out there doing what Jeff, or Jeremy or any deputy could.
But the science...she actually felt a passion for the science. A passion she hadn’t felt since she’d first joined the TSP.
It had nothing to do with what had happened to her or the personal feelings she was developing for the man next to her.
It had everything to do with her.
“No. It’s my choice. I am going to talk to Haldyn about it in more detail.” It would be a salary increase, and there would promotional opportunities. It would be a completely different world than it was in Value.
But Bailey thought it would be a good fit now. She’d get out there and make a life for herself that didn’t have the baggage of the past associated with it.
And whatever happened between her and Clay after that—it wouldn’t be on TSP time. If it happened at all.
She might find that once she got to Finley Creek she’d forget about him and how he’d confused her.
They’d shared a handful of hot kisses. That was it. But it was enough to have everything sideways. She wasn’t running from that. She was taking control so that she could meet it head on.
Could meet Clay on a level playing field. The way she needed to.
“Whatever you decide, I’m behind you one hundred percent. Whether that’s with Marshall or staying with me.”
She sensed he meant it.
A far cry from where they’d been a few weeks ago.
“Thank you, Clay. I mean that.”
The nerves she’d always felt when alone with him were long gone now. She didn’t recall when that had happened.
They fell into a long silence, Bailey thinking about what the future would hold for her. It wouldn’t be too much of a change in her schedule. Instead of turning left to go south into Value each day, she’d turn right and drive straight up into Finley Creek. It would be a difference of seven miles.
That was if she stayed at Bert and Jake’s. She could always get an apartment in Finley Creek when the time was right.
She was only twenty-six. There was a lot she could do in her future.
Because she had one and she was finally clear on what she wanted from it.
Even before what had happened to her in April she hadn’t been happy in what she was doing. She’d been existing. For so long she’d thought she’d wanted to work patrol. Like her father had. So she could figure him out, find out why he had made the choices he had.
But she had to stop living for the past. Trying to understand it.
Her father’s choices were his choices. His failings were his own. Nothing she had ever done had caused what he had become.
Funny that she hadn’t ever seen that before.
She wasn’t going to erase the specter that her father and corrupt TSP officials had left on the TSP. She wasn’t going to be able to do it. No matter how great of a deputy she became. She couldn’t.
It wasn’t her job to be the eraser of her father’s mistakes. Or anyone else’s except her own.
But she could build her own career as a part of who she was. Bailey Jane Moore.
For the first time in months, Bailey felt like she’d finally gotten a handle on how things were going to be again.
Not should be. Bailey hated the word should. It led to so many wrong expectations.
Her father should have been ethical and honest. Her father should have protected her. Her father should have loved her.
Clay should make up his mind about how he felt about her. Clay should do something about it.
Bailey should make her own choices. And she was going to. And she was going to erase should from her vocabulary and just put would in its place for her own life.
And not worry about anyone else’s shoulds.
Not even Clay’s.
“I’m going, Clay. It’s the right decision and it’s what I want to do. But...that doesn’t mean you have to stay away from Jake and Bert. From me. We both know there’s some kind of heat between us. If you want to figure it out, then we meet in the middle. Equal playing ground. The TSP won’t factor into it, even for a moment. Just you and me.”
She would have said more, but the radio started blaring a warning.
All discussion about personal business was immediately ended.
It was time for them to be the TSP again.
“The National Weather Service has issued a tornado warning for the following portions of Barratt and Finley Creek counties. Barrattville, Value, Finley Creek...”
Bailey’s attention immediately turned toward the sky.
“There are confirmed funnel clouds spotted in the area, with damage reported. Please take appropriate shelter immediately.”
That’s when Bailey saw it in the distance several miles away.
It was a monster unlike anything she’d ever seen outside of a television special on the Weather Channel. “Clay!”
“I see it!”