Hostage At Hawk's Landing. Rita Herron
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He saved my life.” And she wanted to thank him for it, not see him hunted down like an animal.
“You certainly are defensive of him.” The detective narrowed his eyes. “Exactly how well did you know Mr. Smith?”
Anger shot through Melissa at the insinuations in the cop’s voice. “He was a welcome guest here just like all of the other men who seek housing with us at Lend-A-Hand.”
“What was his story?” Detective Lamar asked. “Did he have a family?”
Melissa bit the corner of her lip, a habit she had when thinking. “I don’t know. He’d only been here a couple of days and didn’t share much about himself.”
“What did he share?” the detective asked.
Melissa searched her memory banks. “Nothing really. He was quiet, and kept to himself. But he was always polite at mealtimes and respectful of the other men and our volunteers.”
“So you’re defending a man you know virtually nothing about,” Detective Lamar said flatly. “His name sounds fake. He could be a criminal hiding out.”
She had considered that. “I don’t think that’s the case.”
Detective Lamar raised a brow. “What do you think?”
Dex cleared his throat. “Lamar, why don’t you lay off? Melissa told you all she knows. It’s her job to help the men who come here, not interrogate them.”
Officer Whalen, who’d been questioning the men inside, stepped to the door. “I’m finished here.”
The detective shrugged. “You get anything useful?”
Officer Whalen shook her head. “No one seemed to know anything about Smith. General consensus was that he didn’t want to talk. One guy thought Smith was hiding something. Another said Smith hinted that he didn’t have family. But Smith didn’t elaborate so we don’t know if he was married, divorced, had kids, or if he did, what happened to them.”
“What about a job?” Detective Lamar asked.
The officer shook her head. “Didn’t mention one.”
The detective turned back to Melissa. “Did he tell you what kind of work he did?”
He’d thrown that rope lasso-style, like a pro. Maybe ranching? Then again, most men in Texas knew how to rope and ride. “I’m afraid not.” She lifted her chin. “Instead of investigating Smith, why aren’t you looking into the dead man on the floor in the shelter? He’s the one who broke in here and put a gun to my head.”
* * *
DEX COULDN’T DRAG his eyes from Melissa and that tangled mass of hair. She had a heart of gold. But was she naive? Was Smith a criminal, using the shelter to hide from the law? Or...perhaps he was in trouble and the gunman was a bad guy chasing him?
Various scenarios bombarded him. Smith might have owed the man or someone else money. The shooter could have had a personal vendetta against Smith for some transgression against him.
“Listen to me, Ms. Gentry,” Lamar said. “We have to close down the shelter until we’re finished processing it. The men staying here will have to leave, at least temporarily.”
Melissa’s eyes flickered with unease. “How long will we have to be closed?”
“I can’t say for sure. I’ll let you know when we release the space and you can use it again. Meanwhile, I’ll have Officer Whalen escort the men outside.”
Lamar went to speak to Whalen, and Dex gave Melissa an understanding look. Knowing Melissa, she’d worry about the men they’d have to turn away.
“If you find a place for the men to stay tonight, I’ll provide transportation,” he offered.
Melissa’s look of gratitude suggested he’d read her correctly. She was more concerned about Smith and the men at the shelter than she was about herself. “Thanks, Dex. I will do that. I don’t like the idea of putting anyone out when it’s so hot.”
Melissa removed her phone from the pocket of her jeans and stepped aside to make a phone call.
Lamar walked back to him, his expression grim.
“Don’t you think you were a little hard on her?” Dex asked, annoyed at his friend.
“I’m just doing my job.” Lamar grunted. “How do you know her?”
Dex didn’t intend to share details of their relationship. “We met in college.”
“I didn’t think you went to college,” Lamar said.
Dex gritted his teeth. He had gone but not finished. Brayden was definitely the most educated of the Hawk men. Still, he loved his work. “I did, but just one semester. College wasn’t for me. I did take business classes at a local school though before I hung my shingle.”
Lamar worked his mouth from side to side. “I take it you and Ms. Gentry were...involved?”
Dex shrugged. “It was a long time ago. But I can vouch for her. Melissa’s the most honest, caring person I’ve ever met.”
“Caring enough that she’d cover for Smith?”
“You heard her story,” Dex said. “You can believe her.” He gestured toward the inside of the shelter. “Dr. Hudson in there?”
Lamar nodded. “They should be bringing the man’s body outside to transport to the morgue any minute.”
Dex shoved his hand in his pockets. “What do you know about the gunman?”
“Not much, yet. Name on his ID is Clark McTruitt.” Lamar shifted, putting his body between Dex and Melissa as if he didn’t want her to overhear what he had to say. “He had a PI license on him, Dex.”
A tense minute passed. “He was a PI? Where?” He would recognize his name if he worked out of Austin.
“Amarillo.” The door opened and two medics carried a stretcher with McTruitt’s body encased in a body bag on it. “He obviously had reason to come after Smith,” Lamar said. “Finding out more about Smith is key.”
Dex agreed with him on that. “I’ll go to McTruitt’s office and see what I can dig up.”
Lamar’s deep frown of disapproval coincided with a firm shake of his head. “Listen, Dex, this is a homicide investigation. I have to play it by the book.” He slanted him a warning look. “If I need you, I’ll let you know. Otherwise, go home and be with your family, and let me do my job.”
Dex clenched his jaw as Melissa strode toward the homeless men being escorted from the shelter. She could have died tonight.
That thought sent fear crawling through him. He didn’t give a damn what Lamar said.
There was no way he could walk away without answers.
* * *
MELISSA DIDN’T KNOW why the detective rubbed her the wrong way, but he did. She had been defensive of Jim Smith, but rightfully so. Although she had wondered about his past and what he was hiding from, he’d saved her life and she owed him.
She phoned her friend at Another Chance Shelter about forty miles away and explained the situation. The volunteer had enough beds open for the men to stay with them for a few nights if needed.
Several of the men went their own way, although three agreed to move to another facility.
She had a soft spot for Gunther and was glad he accepted the offer. He’d had a hard life. Had been injured in the Gulf War. With a bad leg and PTSD, he’d lost his job when he’d become addicted to pain meds. And he had no family.
An awkward silence filled the car as Dex drove them to the shelter. When they arrived, he parked, climbed out and met her at the passenger side. The men congregated