Runaway Colton. Karen Whiddon
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Now all of that would be put on hold. Hopefully, not permanently.
First things first. As a member of the Colton family, she was often recognized. She’d need a disguise, like a new haircut and color, maybe a pair of oversize eyeglasses.
And then she’d need a place to stay. Her best bet would be to find a cabin for rent, one of those summer places where prices would be slashed since it was off-season. She thought she’d head toward Lake Whitney, after checking on her phone and learning of just such a place.
Item number one. Alter her appearance. And no going about it halfway. She’d seen a trendy little salon outside of Terrell. Fingering her long, silky locks, she grinned. She’d always wondered what it would be like to have super short hair. Looked like she was about to find out.
Once she’d been seated in the stylist’s chair, Piper gave the young woman instructions to give her an edgy cut that would be easy to maintain. She also requested hot-pink tips, though she asked to keep her pale blond hair color.
An hour later, staring at herself in the salon mirror, Piper laughed out loud. She could barely recognize herself. “I should have done this years ago,” she remarked.
“I agree.” The quiet stylist brought a mirror around to show Piper the back. “The cut brings out your cheekbones and makes your eyes appear huge!”
“And I love the pink tips.” Odd how such a simple thing as a haircut could make Piper feel like herself again. She paid in cash, tipping exactly 20 percent, though she wished she could give more. For now, she had to be frugal with her money. This was all she had until she found out the truth about what had happened to Eldridge and exonerated herself.
All she had to do was find the true murderer. Since she had few illusions that finding Eldridge’s real killer would be easy, maybe she should hire a private investigator. Could she afford that? Or could she afford not to?
She thought back to a guy she’d once known. Cord Maxwell. He’d lived on the ranch as a kid since his father had been a ranch hand. Though she’d lost track of him over the years, she’d heard he’d gone to work with Sam Ater as a PI.
Walking out of the salon a good seven inches of hair lighter, she shook her head, loving the way air felt on her naked neck. She’d never worn her hair this short, nor had layers. She had to say, the tousled look and different colors made her feel like a totally different person. Since that’s exactly how she needed to look, she considered it money well spent. All she needed now was a pair of oversize eyeglasses and hopefully no one would look twice. She drove to Walmart, walked inside and purchased a pair of frames with clear, nonprescription lenses. Slipping them on, she caught sight of herself in her car window and grinned. Perfect.
Now she’d taken care of a disguise, which hopefully would buy her time to search for information about where Eldridge had been and who he’d seen the day he’d supposedly been killed. The one thing she didn’t understand was how the police could assume he’d been murdered when they didn’t even have a body. Since they couldn’t seem to find one, she believed quite strongly that Eldridge wasn’t dead.
The bloody shirt needed explaining. Who hated her enough to try and frame her for murder?
Rubbing her hands together, trademark optimism back in place, she needed to decide what to do next.
She had a small problem. Okay, maybe a big one. Despite watching lots of detective and true crime shows on TV, she actually had no idea how to start searching for Eldridge. If the police couldn’t find him, how could she?
Of course, she didn’t think the sheriff and his deputies had searched much once they’d decided to arrest her.
Her brief consideration of hiring Cord Maxwell came back around. Maybe it wasn’t a bad idea. She needed a professional. Someone who did this sort of thing all the time. Someone with contacts, who could be discreet, and would accept a payment in cash.
She thought he might be just that person. The only problem—his office was on Third Street, back in town.
Glancing at her watch, she knew she had enough time to drive back toward town and stop at his office. But then she reconsidered. Not only did she run the risk of being recognized, even with her disguise, but what if Cord had heard she’d left town? This could be misconstrued as skipping out on her bail. He was a bounty hunter, after all.
Instead, she decided to call him. Once he’d verbally accepted her offer to work for her, he couldn’t bring her in, could he? She thought it would be a conflict of interest. Or something.
Using her phone, she did a quick internet search for S.A. Enterprises and located their web page. Once she had the phone number, she put it in her phone. Her finger hovered above the green phone icon. Was she sure she wanted to do this?
Though a trickle of fear clogged her throat, she knew she had to make the call. Truth be told, she had nothing to lose and everything to gain.
* * *
When his office phone rang, Cord almost didn’t answer it. He’d spent the last hour mapping out a search area. Since Piper Colton wasn’t used to being on the lam, he figured she’d be easy to find. Of course, he’d believed the same thing about Renee.
Something, call it instinct or maybe just desperation, had him reaching for the phone. After he answered and heard the husky feminine voice on the line, he could hardly believe he could be this lucky.
Piper Colton. And she wanted to hire him.
“Wait, slow down,” he said, barely able to make sense out of the torrent of words. “Maybe you should come in so we can talk.”
She went silent then. For a few seconds at least, long enough for him to worry he might have blown it. “Or we can meet somewhere,” he added, aware she might not feel comfortable venturing back into town.
“There’s a flea market tomorrow in Terrell,” she finally said, sounding remarkably upbeat considering her situation. “Meet me in front of the entrance at nine. It’s usually pretty crowded, so I’ll wear a yellow T-shirt.”
Quickly, he agreed. Evidently, Piper Colton still liked to hunt down junked out furniture and make it pretty. He’d actually planned to begin searching at the Terrell Trade Days.
She ended the call before he could question her further. No matter. He could hardly believe this case would be so easy. Not even two days had passed since Fowler had hired him.
Grinning, he wished Sam were still here to high-five. Well-paying, quick and easy cases happened very seldom.
The next morning, Cord donned his usual jeans, work boots and T-shirt. Though he wore his pistol in the concealed holster, he knew he most likely wouldn’t have to use it. One thing he’d learned over the years was that bringing in a fugitive was nothing like what was portrayed in movies and books. Nine times out of ten, the best way to apprehend someone was to talk to them. Explain the cost of their actions. And to listen when they attempted to justify what they’d done.
By the time he and Piper finished shooting the breeze, he anticipated she’d be eager to return