the wedding to Layla until the Groom Killer was caught. Fenwick, who doubled as mayor of Red Ridge, was beside himself and breathed down the chief’s neck on a daily basis to solve the case. It didn’t matter that Fenwick was related to Chief Finn Colton. Fenwick needed money.
West understood Hamlin being nervous, canceling the wedding and calling off the engagement to Layla Colton. With a killer out to slay grooms, who would dare host a public wedding in town?
What he didn’t get was marrying for money, not love. He didn’t understand it. His own mother and father had been happily married for more than twenty-four years before a killer snuffed out their lives. He and Quinn wanted to marry because they loved each other, crazy as it seemed after barely meeting a month ago. But he knew Quinn was the right woman for him. She was intelligent and witty and caring, and he’d do anything for her.
Layla, Quinn’s cousin, seemed like a smart, kind woman, concerned about her family and savvy about business when he’d interviewed her about Demi Colton. Was she that dedicated to her family and saving her father’s company that she’d sacrifice her own personal happiness?
Life was short. He’d learned that at seventeen when his world blew apart. And marriage lasted a long time, or at least, it should.
West’s scarred hand felt tight today, as it did each time he worked a crime scene, reminding him of the night his family died in the bomb blast. He flexed it as he watched Harrington approach Chief Colton, wondering what the man wanted.
Wealthy lawyers usually didn’t visit crime scenes. Not unless they were ambulance chasers. He’d bet a case of hundred-year-old brandy that Devlin Harrington had never chased an ambulance in his life. Not with that cash cow of a rich daddy, who probably paid him a salary that made West’s modest income look laughable.
Wearing an expensive gray silk business suit, with a red power tie and starched shirt, and expensive leather footwear, Harrington looked out of place with the cops in their bunny suits, tactical vests and grubby, scuffed shoes.
The lawyer stood by the table where Finn Colton ate. He scrutinized the scene, shook his head. “Chief, this is most upsetting. Now we have a bomber in Red Ridge? I’m sure this is related to the groom killings. If there is anything I can do, any help I can offer, please let me know. I want to help. If you need assistance, I’m here.”
To his credit, Finn didn’t take the bait. “It’s too early in the investigation to tell anything. We’re doing all we can. Every man on this force is dedicated to catching the killer.”
“But you must admit this is terribly suspicious timing.” Harrington swept a hand over the crime scene tape. “If the killer is graduating to bombings, she must be caught. I wanted to let you know I’m offering a $100,000 reward for the capture of Demi Colton.”
West nearly choked on his forkful of rice.
Finn didn’t even blink. “Oh?”
“She must be found and brought in for questioning. If she’s innocent, she’s innocent. But if she’s guilty...” Again with the hand gesture. “Then the killings, and this kind of violence will end.”
Was the guy running for office? West snorted as a newspaper photographer snapped Harrington’s photo. He could envision the headline now: Billionaire Lawyer Offers Six Figures of Own Money for Capture of Suspect Demi Colton.
He hated it when civilians messed with an official investigation. Offering that much money for Demi’s capture would send everyone eager for the reward out searching, giving the department more headaches and more false leads to chase.
And make a desperate Demi harder to catch. Hell, half the town would be searching for her now, eager to claim even a share of the reward.
West knew he had to question Quinn further on her sister. If Quinn even had a remote inkling of where Demi was, he had to know immediately.
“I’d like to see the official ad you’re running in the newspaper,” Finn told him, giving him a level look. “For the record.”
“I’m very busy this afternoon.” Harrington took out his cell phone, texted something. “But I’ll send an Uber to drop off the notice at the station.”
Sending an Uber to deliver a damn paper? Typical Harrington. You can’t take five minutes to stop by on your way? No, that’s too much trouble.
West knew some attorneys back East, hardworking, congenial men and women who dedicated themselves to the law and society. Harrington was not one. He did it for the money.
Harrington flashed those pearly whites at everyone and glad-handed the officers sitting at the table.
“Thank you for all you are doing to catch the Groom Killer. If you need anything, anything at all, my office is at your disposal. We all want Demi Colton caught so life can return to normal. My father will be most grateful when Demi is found and arrested and weddings can resume in Red Ridge. He’s most eager to marry Layla.”
He spotted West sitting by his lonesome, walked over and stuck out a palm. “Agent Brand, so glad to see the FBI is working with our fine force. We certainly can use your services.”
Giving him a cool glance, West nodded and ignored the hand. He picked up his fork and continued eating. Harrington’s smile only got wider.
“Have a good day,” the lawyer told him.
He strode off toward his car. West caught Quinn’s worried gaze. If she was concerned about her sister before, she must be worried sick now. West made a small gesture at Harrington’s car speeding off, then did an eye roll. She flashed a brief smile.
West ate quickly, tossed away the plate and plastic silverware, and then returned to the crime scene. The sooner he finished, the faster they could find who did this, and clues to where the bomber would strike next.
Whether or not it was Demi Colton.
* * *
Two hours later, Quinn unloaded all the catering dishes and brought them inside to her store, placing them on the counter near the sink. With a rueful smile, she noticed her hands were trembling.
West did that to her. Even being within one hundred feet of him set off her female parts. They tingled with anticipation, and her nerves jumped as if the annual Fourth of July fireworks exploded inside her.
Her smile fled as she recalled the extensive damage to the building, and the sneers of her father as he swigged back a bottle of beer and watched the cops work the scene.
Rusty had a habit of making the worst things worse. He liked his beer and criticizing other people and bragged about both.
Like her brothers and Demi, Quinn worked hard to overcome the reputation of being offspring of the town’s notorious bar owner and womanizer. It was why she elected to serve wholesome food at Good Eats, to differentiate from the greasy bar food her father dished out.
She picked up the mail the carrier had dropped through the slot in her front door. As she walked to the counter, Quinn sorted through the stack. Bills. More bills. And a white card-size envelope that resembled an invitation. The envelope had a cute red heart stamped on it.
A wedding invitation?
Maybe an engagement announcement?
