LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

Laney had briefly—very briefly—explained that Joe Henshaw was her assistant, and that she didn’t know where he was. Neither did Owen or the San Antonio cops helping him look for the guy.

      “I didn’t hire that man to kill you,” Laney repeated when Owen finished his latest call, this one to the medical examiner.

      Declaring and redeclaring her innocence was something Laney had been going on about during the entire five hours they’d been there. He suspected she would continue to go on about it until the intruder either recanted or Kellan and he were indeed able to prove that he was lying.

      Owen figured proving it wouldn’t be that hard.

      However, they couldn’t even start doing that because the guy had lawyered up and they now had to wait for the attorney to arrive from San Antonio. Until then, they were holding not only the intruder but also Laney. Owen had not yet decided if she was a suspect, but he was pretty sure Laney—or rather Elaine—was going to be the key to them figuring out what the hell was going on.

      “The guy you shot and killed was Harvey Dayton,” Owen told her. He’d just gotten the ID during his call with the ME. “Ring any bells?”

      “No,” she answered without hesitation. “And I’m sure I’ve never seen him before, either. His prints were in the system,” Laney added in a mutter. “That’s how you got the ID this fast?”

      He nodded. “Dayton had a record,” Owen settled for saying.

      What he didn’t spell out for her was that the rap sheet was a mile long, and yeah, it included a couple of assault charges with a pattern of escalating violence. Along with a history of drug use, which made him a prime candidate for becoming a hired gun for people who wanted cheap help.

      “Did Dayton say what he took from the guesthouse?” Laney asked.

      Good question because, other than a gun, Dayton hadn’t had anything on him when Kellan and Gunnar had found him. The CSIs would search the area, but Dayton had been captured by the road, a good quarter mile from Owen’s ranch. There was no telling where he’d put whatever it was he’d taken.

      “Your laptop is missing,” Owen added, and he instantly saw the frustration and anger in her eyes.

      “I keep copies of my files in online storage,” she said with a heavy sigh. “But everything was also on my hard drive. It means whoever took it won’t have trouble accessing everything.”

      Later, he’d want to know more about exactly what was on it. For now, Owen went with giving her more info that would then lead to more questions. Hopefully, more answers, too. “Your toothbrush was there, so that axes your DNA theory. Your purse was open, and your wallet and cell phone were gone. No jewelry around, either, so if you had any—”

      “The only jewelry I have is this.” Laney touched her fingers to the gold dragonfly necklace that she’d gotten back from Addie. There was also a small key on the chain. “It was a gift from my sister.” She paused. “You really think the motive for this was robbery?”

      “No.” Owen didn’t have to think about that.

      The gunman had called her by name and come to the barn. Plus, nothing was missing from his house. If this had been a robbery, they would have taken his wallet and anything else of value. They also would have had a vehicle stashed nearby, and so far, one hadn’t turned up.

      “And the second man, the one who’s lying about me, any ID on him yet?” she queried.

      “Rohan Gilley.” Owen watched for any signs of recognition.

      She repeated the name several times, the way a person would when they were trying to jog their memory. But then Laney shook her head. “He had a record, too?”

      Owen settled for a nod. Gilley’s rap sheet was almost identical to Dayton’s, just slightly shorter. They’d even served time together.

      “Gilley’s lying to save his hide,” Laney grumbled. “Or because someone put him up to it.” She added some muttered profanity to go along with that.

      The last five hours hadn’t improved her mood much. She was just as wired as she had been during the attack. At least, though, she wasn’t trembling now. For reasons he didn’t want to explore, the trembling got to Owen, and right now the only thing he wanted to feel for this woman was the cool indifference he felt toward anyone who’d been involved in any way with a crime.

      But indifference was impossible.

      If she was telling the truth about not hiring Gilley—and he believed that she was—then that meant she was a victim, one who’d saved his daughter by getting her out of harm’s way. Hard for something that big not to be on the proverbial table.

      Laney’s tough exterior, or rather the front she’d tried to put on for him, cracked a little. She didn’t go back to trembling, but it was close, and before she could gather her composure, he caught another glimpse of nerves.

      Big ones.

      She was a PI—he’d confirmed that—but this could have been the first time she’d actually been in the middle of an attack. Maybe the first time she had been a target, too.

      Along with having a good aim, she had an athletic build and was on the petite side, only about five-three.

      And attractive.

      Something he hated that he noticed, but it was impossible to miss. Being a widower hadn’t made him blind. However, he still had plenty of common sense that reminded him that Laney had way too many secrets behind those cool blue eyes.

      “The CSIs found a jammer,” Owen went on a moment later. “That’s how Dayton and or Gilley cut off the electricity.”

      She stayed quiet for a moment. “That proves I’m innocent. I wouldn’t have needed to jam the power since I was already in the house.” Her eyes widened. “Did you check to make sure Francine really had an emergency? Those men wanted me there, and they could have tricked Francine into leaving.”

      At least Laney wasn’t accusing the nanny of any wrongdoing, but it was a clever observation. An accurate one, too. “The call from the nursing home was bogus.” Of course, Francine hadn’t learned that until she’d gotten there to check on her mom. By then, the attack at the ranch had already been in progress.

      “More proof,” Laney said under her breath. She looked up, her eyes meeting his. “If I wanted you dead, I wouldn’t have kept Addie there. I would have told Francine I couldn’t watch the girl so that Francine would have had to take Addie with her.”

      That was the way Owen had it figured, too, which was why he was leaning toward the conclusion that Laney was innocent. Of the attack anyway. But there was a boatload of other troubling concerns here. Not just the lies that she’d told him about her identity and work résumé, but there was also the problem with the accusation about Emerson.

      “Go back over what you told me in the barn,” Owen insisted. “Tell me about your half sister’s murder.”

      This would be a third round of Laney doing that, but thanks to an emailed report he’d gotten from the San Antonio PD in the past hour, Owen knew that Hadley’s death had indeed been ruled a murder. She’d died from blunt-force trauma to the head. No eyewitnesses, no suspects. Well, no official suspects for SAPD. Laney clearly felt differently about that.

      “Hadley and Emerson had an affair.” Laney stared at him. “I’m not going to change my story, no matter how many times you have me repeat it.”

      That was what he figured, but this was another square filler, like calling out his identity to the intruder. It was especially necessary because she’d lied to him about who she was.

      Something that still riled him to the core.

      Hell, here he was a cop, and he hadn’t known one of his employees was living under an alias. Of course, there was no way he would have hired her had he known who she was and what she was after.

Скачать книгу