Colton's Deadly Engagement. Addison Fox
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wouldn’t come in Monday morning and razz him for making a mess. She’d probably still find an infraction, but at least he wouldn’t risk leaving a coffeemaker full of coffee grounds or stale coffee gone cold in the pot.
The case bothered him. He knew himself well enough to know that not only would it require his full concentration, but that that same concentration would likely reduce a few brain cells for the next few days.
Who was killing grooms-to-be in his town?
What makes people do such horrible things?
Darby’s question haunted him, nagging at the back of his sleep-deprived mind. After his visit to Bo Gage’s old residence, he’d headed back to the Circle T to review the latest crime scene with fresh eyes. The visit hadn’t turned up much, other than the fact that the town was shaken. The restaurant had reported that nearly all their Saturday night reservations had been canceled before the owner was even able to make the calls that they would be closed that evening.
But it was the comments the proprietor, Gus Hanley, had fielded from those canceling guests that had Finn concerned.
“If someone’s killing men who are about to get married, can I risk even going out on a date?”
“Big-city crime has come to Red Ridge. Maybe I need to try staying in for a while.”
“Should we reconsider our spring wedding?”
Along with the canceled reservations, Gus had lost two events for early March—one for an engagement party and one for a rehearsal dinner.
No doubt about it, Red Ridge was in a panic. As a lifelong resident, Finn found that sad. As chief of police—it was unbearable. He’d become a cop because he’d wanted to make a difference. The fact that he was good at it was an added bonus that kept him focused, determined and dedicated. The added added bonus of working with Lotte had sealed the deal.
He hadn’t always been a K-9 cop. His first few years on the force had been focused on learning the ropes and endless hours of traffic detail. But he’d showed promise and the old chief, Clancy Macintyre, had taken him under his wing. Chief Macintyre had been a good influence, balancing his innate ability to teach with the patience and care Finn’s own father had never exhibited.
Judson Colton was a rancher and a damn fine one. But he’d never understood his oldest son, a quiet kid with an unerring eye for detail. That had always been true and, whether by choice or by habit, he and his father maintained a respectful distance. His father’s second wife, Joanelle, had made that even easier to accomplish with her cold ways and dismissal of Judson’s first child as a burden she was forced to carry.
But there was one thing ranch life had taught Finn and that was his love of animals. His opportunity to move in to the K-9 unit and work with a trained canine partner had taken his love of police work and made it his life’s calling.
He was good at his job and he was good to the men and women who worked for him. They all kept Red Ridge safe and took pride in their role as protectors. And someone had come to their town and violated all they’d built.
Suddenly tired of it all, including the need to question petite women with silky hair and what read as determined—but innocent—eyes, Finn headed for his desk. The case weighed on him and he’d be no good to anyone if he didn’t clear his head. It was time to wrap up the little paperwork he’d come in for, get his notes on the interview with Darby logged in and head home. Maybe he’d make a steak and a baked potato, the hearty meal a way to relax and recharge.
And then he’d eat it alone.
That thought hit harder than all the others that had bombarded him throughout the day.
He’d been alone since his divorce and had believed himself okay with it. He’d had dates from time to time. Had even progressed to something more like a relationship a few years back with a sweet teacher down in Black Hills City. But, ultimately, things hadn’t worked out. She’d had visions of the future and in the end he simply couldn’t get his head on the same page.
So why was he now imagining enjoying his steak and potato with a companion?
One who looked suspiciously like Darby Gage.
The squad room was quiet. His cousin Brayden, another K-9 cop on the team, was tapping away at his keyboard. He was nodding his head to whatever music pumped through his ears—classic rock, if Finn knew his cousin—but he did holler a “yo” as Finn passed.
Finn briefly toyed with inviting Brayden to join him for dinner, but for some reason the thought of sharing a steak and a beer with his cousin—whom he liked quite a bit—didn’t entice the same way as images of dining with Darby.
Since his latest set of notes wouldn’t write itself, Finn opted to ignore thoughts of dinner altogether as he sat down. His desk held what he considered a comfortable amount of clutter: stacks of files, a handful of notes, and a series of sticky notes that littered the top of his desk and the edges of his computer monitor. Shifting a stack of folders farther to the edge, he knocked over a dark box, the square packaging making a heavy thud as it hit the floor.
Finn bent to pick it up, quite sure the box hadn’t been on his desk the night before. There was a small square card taped to the top and he flipped it open.
“‘Chocolates for a cop with a big heart.’” The note was signed “an appreciative citizen” and had small hearts dotting the i’s in “citizen.”
He wanted to think it was sweet—this wasn’t the first anonymous gift he’d received over the past few weeks—but it was beginning to get out of hand. Red Ridge was a small town and he appreciated the proprietary way the citizens treated their local law enforcement. The holidays typically brought a steady stream of cookies and cakes for the staff and homemade treats for the canine members of the team. Summer often brought picnic baskets of fried chicken and endless vats of lemonade.
In all of those cases, the townsfolk enjoyed bringing in the gifts and thanking the staff in person. What Finn couldn’t quite reconcile with the recent spate of gifts directed at him was why the giver felt the need to be anonymous.
Going with his gut, he dropped the chocolate into the trash can under his desk and went back to his report.
There really was no accounting for the wacky things people did. And since he had a killer to catch, he hardly had the time to worry about someone too shy to come in to the precinct to say hello.
* * *
Darby stared at her checkbook and tried desperately not to think about the debt that loomed once she got through the month of February.
“Welcome to Monday,” she muttered to herself, well aware she’d have the same problem on a Tuesday, a Wednesday or any other day of the week. There simply wasn’t any more money. And the vet’s visit the day before—a courtesy visit he’d called it—had proved conclusively she couldn’t breed Penny again. The risk to Penny’s health was too great to support another litter, especially coming on the heels of the litter she’d had the previous fall.
He’d mentioned a sweet German shepherd he’d taken care of in a nearby town—one ready for breeding and whose owner would sell for a fair price assuming she could keep one of the litter as part of the arrangement. But Darby knew it was hopeless. She barely had enough to take care of herself and Penny. There was no way she could afford a new dog right now.
The breeding program would have to wait until she got back on her feet. A few more months of her regular jobs—waitressing at the diner and helping out at the K-9 training center—and she’d reassess. That was assuming the taxes on Bo’s property didn’t put her underwater before she could earn what she needed.
On a hard sigh, she slammed the checkbook cover closed and shoved it, along with several open bills, across the kitchen table. She’d worry about it later. The problem wasn’t going anywhere and she had one more room to clean before she’d finally feel like she’d officially moved in to her own home.
When had Bo become such a slob?