Colton's Deadly Engagement. Addison Fox
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been able to move Michael Hayden’s body.
The guy had snuck out the back of the kitchen to grab a smoke, his fiancée’s legendary distaste for the practice sending him skulking out a rear exit to escape the rehearsal dinner festivities unnoticed.
Only someone had noticed.
They’d shot him.
Finn reviewed his notes, typing them into his report to ensure his thoughts were as fresh as possible. What he avoided including was the observation that sneaking cigarettes at your rehearsal dinner because your soon-to-be wife hated the practice likely wasn’t the most auspicious start to happily-ever-after.
Not that he was exactly an expert.
His own marriage had crashed and burned in a fiery pile of ash after his ex-wife had grown fed up with his hours and the danger of his job. Mary was a good woman and he’d heard through the grapevine that she was remarrying. She’d left Red Ridge after their divorce, picking up work in Spearfish, about thirty miles away, as a digital designer for a local firm. He was happy that she had moved on with her life and wanted nothing but good things for her.
The fact that he’d felt nothing—not even the slightest tug—when he’d heard the news bothered him more than he could say. Wasn’t a man supposed to be jealous if his ex moved on? Even a little bit? Yet here he was, content and maybe even a little relieved that she’d picked up her life and found someone new. He’d never worried much about his reputation as a cold, work-focused leader, but maybe it was time he started.
After, he promised himself. He’d worry about it all after he got through these reports and the inquiries and found out just who was killing men in his town.
The report practically wrote itself. The men and women on his team were well trained and good at their jobs. Between their notes and work, as well as his own, he was able to paint a quick, succinct picture of the crime and Michael Hayden’s unpleasant death.
Shutting down his laptop, he caught sight of a note scribbled by Carson Gage and left in the small wooden box he kept on the corner of his desk.
Carson was one of his best detectives on the force and the brother of the first victim, Bo Gage. Finn picked up the note, curious to see what, if any, details Carson had added to his already-robust case file.
Unsuccessful visit to Darby Gage. Persists in saying she had no idea why Bo left her the business and the house. Has alibi for Bo’s murder but could have someone covering for her?
Despite the personal connection with his brother, Carson had been invaluable on the case. But that last question didn’t sit well with Finn. He knew Carson had worked long and hard to find justice for his brother, but it wasn’t like him—or anyone on Finn’s team—to question a person’s alibi simply for the sake of wrapping up a case and pinning a crime on a convenient suspect.
Was there something behind Carson’s concern? Or was he so frustrated by the lack of leads that he’d begun grasping at straws?
Yes, it was suspicious that Bo had left his business to his ex-wife. But Finn had known Bo Gage and the man hadn’t been the most responsible soul. It could be as simple as the fact that Bo had never had his will changed after his divorce.
Or there could be something else there.
He made a quick note to himself to go talk to Darby Gage. He’d spoken with her a few weeks before when suspicion had first landed on Bo Gage’s ex-wife and hadn’t come to any conclusions. Nevertheless, if something about the woman was nagging at Carson, then Finn would talk to her again.
His detective had a lot on his plate, including his own conflicted feelings about his brother’s passing. Perhaps this case needed a bit more objectivity.
Up until their last meeting, Finn had known Darby Gage as he knew most of his constituents, by sight and a vague recollection of a conversation a time or two. She was pretty, with shoulder-length dark hair and vivid blue eyes, her figure petite and waifish. If he hadn’t seen her at the K-9 training center a time or two, carrying pails of water to scrub out the dog facilities, he’d not have believed her capable of the work. The slender lines of her body belied a strong, capable woman.
One capable of murder?
He shook off the thought, unwilling to take the same leap as Carson simply for the sake of having a suspect besides Demi Colton.
Fifteen minutes later he was still thinking of her when he stepped into his ground-floor condo and peeled off his gun before climbing into bed.
Was it even remotely possible Darby Gage was the Groom Killer? She had a potential motive for killing her ex-husband—he’d left her the house and business, after all. But Michael Hayden had been killed with the same MO as Bo. And why would Darby kill Hayden?
The thought of her as the perp didn’t sit well, but for some strange reason, just as he was fading off to sleep, he felt a shot of interest light up his nerve endings. There was something about her that caught a man’s notice.
Something that had caught his notice, even as he’d been forced to remain professional and disinterested.
He hadn’t given Darby Gage more than a passing thought over the past five years, but now that he had given her a passing thought, he couldn’t deny his interest in talking to her.
So he’d go see her for himself.
And try not to notice if she was as pretty as he remembered.
The hope that had carried Darby through the prior evening when Penny had opted to join her on the couch met an untimely end about ten minutes into breakfast. It had started with Penny’s stubborn refusal to eat. Darby had tried to coax her with dry food and, when that hadn’t worked, some wet food Bo had kept in the pantry. When neither met with success, she’d even gone so far as to cook the dog some rice and heat up some plain chicken she’d cooked for her lunchtime salads all week. All to no avail.
Penny wouldn’t eat.
This had resulted in a call to the vet and a panicked round of “What did she eat the day before?” before the dog had shamed her into embarrassment by diving into her breakfast after fifteen shaky, fear-filled minutes. The only saving grace was that Darby hadn’t called the vet out to the house, only to have paid for an unnecessary visit.
What the call had turned up as the vet probed on Penny’s age and overall health was his concern that another litter would put Penny at serious risk. On some level, Darby had known it, but she’d told herself she needed a professional opinion.
And now she had it.
That dismal news and the breakfast battle of wills had been followed by the news of another murder in Red Ridge, this one eerily like Bo’s. While the RRPD hadn’t released all details of how Michael Hayden had been murdered, the fact that it was another groom-to-be—this one celebrating at his rehearsal dinner—was too coincidental for Darby’s comfort.
After fielding three calls from concerned friends in town, along with two more she’d sent to voice mail, unwilling to engage in the expected idle gossip that would have resulted, Darby headed out to the backyard and the property beyond.
The day was sharp and cold, but the winter sun was bright in a blue sky. Penny had reluctantly followed her outside and had skirted the property, seeming to take comfort in her perusal of the perimeter before settling on the rattan recliner on the porch, apparently content to watch her.
Darby shot the dog the gimlet eye but was pleased to see Penny’s reluctant interest in her activities. “Chalk it up to a silent victory that she’s interested enough to hang out here and move on,” Darby muttered to herself before heading toward a large shed.
She dug out a bucket and some disinfectant and went to work on the large cage she’d pulled out of the garage the day before. The roomy nest served as Penny’s private area