Branded by the Sheriff. Delores Fossen
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“You haven’t seen your brother in a long time, yet you don’t think he’s guilty?”
Silence.
Beck wished he’d waited to ask that particular question because he would have liked to have seen her reaction, but there wasn’t any way he was going to turn around while she was dressing.
“Darin wouldn’t hurt me,” she finally said.
He rolled his eyes. “I’ll bet your mother and sister thought the same thing.”
“I don’t think he killed them.” Her opinion wasn’t news to him. She had said the same in her interview with the Texas Rangers. “My sister’s ex-boyfriend killed them.”
Nolan Wheeler. Beck knew him because the man used to live in LaMesa Springs. He was as low-life as they came, and Beck along with the Texas Rangers had been looking for Nolan, who’d seemingly disappeared after giving his statement to the police in Austin.
Well, at least Faith hadn’t changed her story over the past two months. But then Beck hadn’t changed his theory. “Nolan Wheeler has alibis for the murders.”
“Thin alibis,” Faith supplied. “Friends of questionable integrity who’ll vouch for him.”
“That’s more than your brother has. According to what I read about Darin, he’s mentally unstable, has been in and out of psychiatric hospitals for years, and he resented your mom and sister. On occasion, he threatened to kill them. He carried through on those threats, though I’ll admit he might have had Nolan Wheeler’s help.”
“Now you think my brother had an accomplice?” Faith asked.
He was betting she had a snarky expression to go along with that snarky question. “It’s possible. Darin isn’t that organized.”
Or that bright. The man was too scatterbrained and perhaps too mentally ill to have conceived a plan to murder two women without witnesses or physical evidence to link him to the crimes. And there was plenty of potential for physical evidence since both victims had been first shot with tranquilizer darts and then strangled. Darin didn’t impress him as the sort of man who could carry out multistep murders or remember to wear latex gloves when strangling his victims.
Beck heard an odd sound and risked looking in her direction. She was dressed, thank goodness, in black pants and a taupe sweater. Simple but classy.
The sound had come from her kneeling to open a suitcase. She pulled out a pair of flat black shoes and slipped them on. Faith also took out a plush armadillo before standing, and she clutched onto it when she faced him head-on. She was about five-six. A good eight inches shorter than he was, and with the flats, Beck felt as if he towered over her.
“My brother has problems,” she said as if being extra mindful of her word choice. “I don’t need to tell you that we didn’t have a stellar upbringing, and it affected Darin in a negative way.”
It was the old bad blood between them that made him want to remind her that her family was responsible for the poor choices they’d made over the years.
Including what happened that December night ten years ago.
Even now, all these years later, Beck could still see Faith coming out of the Sound End motel with his drunk brother and shoving him into her car. She, however, had been as sober as a judge. Beck should know since, as a deputy at that time, he’d been the one to give her a Breathalyzer. She’d denied having sex with his brother, but there’d been a lot of evidence to the contrary, including his own brother’s statement.
“You got something to say to me?” Faith challenged.
Not now. It could wait.
Instead, he glanced at the stuffed baby armadillo. It had a tag from a gift shop in the Austin airport and sported a pink bow around its neck. “I heard you had a baby.” Because he was feeling ornery, he glanced at her bare ring finger.
“Yes.” Those copper eyes drilled into him. “She’s sixteen months old. And, no, I’m not married.” The corner of her mouth lifted. Not a smile of humor though. “I guess that just confirms your opinion that I have questionable morals.”
He lifted a shoulder and let it stand as his response about that. “You think it’s wise to bring a child to LaMesa Springs with a killer at large?”
She mimicked him by lifting her own shoulder, and she let the seconds drag on several moments before she continued. “I have a security company rep coming out first thing in the morning to install some equipment. Once he’s finished, I’ll call the nanny and have her bring my daughter. We’ll stay at the hotel until I have some other repairs and updates done to the house.” She glanced around the austere room before her gaze came back to his. “I intend to make this place a home for her.”
That’s what Beck was afraid she was going to say. This wasn’t just about her new job. It was Faith Matthews’s homecoming. Something he’d dreaded for ten years. “Even with all the bad memories, you still want to be here?”
Her mouth quivered. “Ah. Is this the part where you tell me I should think of living elsewhere? That I’m not welcome here in your town?”
He took a moment with his word selection as well. “You being here will make it hard for my family.”
She had the decency to look uncomfortable about that. “I wish I could change that.” And she sounded sincere. “But I can’t go back and undo history. I can only move forward, and being assistant DA is a dream job for me. I won’t walk away from that just because the Tanners don’t want me here.”
He could tell from the resolve in her eyes that he wasn’t going to change her mind. Not that he thought he could anyway. At least he’d gotten his point across that there was still a lot of water under the bridge that his brother and she had built ten years ago in that motel.
But there was another point he had to make. “Even with security measures, it might not be safe for you or your daughter. The man who killed your mother and sister is still out there.”
Oh, she was about to disagree. He could almost hear the argument they were about to have. Maybe that wasn’t a bad thing. A little air clearing. Except the old stench was so thick between them that it’d take more than an argument to clear it.
She opened her mouth. At the exact moment that Beck caught movement out of the corner of his eye.
Outside the window.
Front yard.
Going on gut instinct, Beck dove at Faith and tackled her onto the bed. He lifted his head and saw the shadowy figure. And worse, it looked as if their visitor had a gun pointed right at Faith and him.
Faith managed a muffled gasp, but she couldn’t ask Beck what the heck was going on. The tackle onto the bed knocked the breath from her.
She fought