style="font-size:15px;"> He grimaced, then tried to backtrack. “Maybe I was wrong. It could belong to anyone.” He shouldered past her and started to walk out, but he stopped. She was back in town to investigate this murder and it seemed as if she intended to drag his grandfather’s good name through the mud to get her story. “He was a good sheriff, and he was a good man.”
“I’m trying to find out the truth about what happened that night.”
“And you don’t care who you hurt in the process, do you?”
Her eyes widened in surprise at his accusation. “I’m only trying to uncover the truth. My goal isn’t to harm anyone.”
“It doesn’t matter that he’s not here to defend himself anymore?”
She sighed. “Look, I’m not trying to say Sheriff Mackey committed the murders. I only want to find out what he covered up and why. I have a letter from the preacher of the church that says whoever left the child with him believed she was in danger. He died six years ago, so I can’t question him. Besides, your grandfather may be dead, but someone obviously doesn’t want me looking into this.” She pointed at the graffiti on the wall to confirm her words.
She was right. Someone had broken into her room. And this wasn’t a random burglary, either. Whoever it was hadn’t stolen anything, which meant they had either been interrupted before finding what they were looking for, or they just wanted to see what she was investigating and what evidence she had. And they’d come paint-in-hand to warn her off.
She jutted out her chin stubbornly, but he could see the fear reflected in her brown eyes. “I’ll admit I was a little rattled by this, but I won’t be scared off so easily.”
He shouldn’t be allowing her to get under his skin, but he found himself admiring the way she tried to show him a strong front when she was so obviously frightened of what had happened here tonight. It made him want to find who did this, but he knew that was unlikely. “I’ll make a report, but it’s doubtful we’ll catch them. It won’t do much good to run prints since this is a hotel room and we wouldn’t be able to exclude anyone.”
“I understand.” She pulled at the collar of her shirt, a nervous gesture that belied the calm she was trying to show him. “Thank you for coming, Deputy...”
“Dawson,” he said. “Quinn Dawson.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Any relation to Sheriff Dawson?”
He nodded. She’d done her homework. “My father.”
“I see. Law enforcement in this town must be a family matter.”
“My brother, Rich, is also on the force full-time. I’m only a reserve deputy. I fill in whenever I’m in town.”
“Oh, what do you do the rest of the time?”
He grimaced. Why had he said that? He strived to be as vague as possible with his response. The last thing he wanted was to direct her radar his way if she really wasn’t on to him. “Private security.” He put away his notebook and handed her a card with the sheriff department’s information. “If you have any further issues or need any more information, call this number.”
“Thank you. I’ve already spoken to Beverly in your records department. I’m hoping to get a look at the case file, but she assures me it’s an open case and the records aren’t available to the public. Any tips on getting her to change her mind?”
“Beverly won’t release anything without my father’s approval.”
“How cooperative do you think your father will be about releasing that information?”
He knew. Zero cooperation. “I hope you have a plan B,” he told her before walking out.
* * *
The next morning, Dana was met with opposition at the sheriff’s office just as Quinn had predicted.
“The Renfield murders are still technically an open case and we don’t comment to the press on open cases.” Sheriff John Dawson was sharp and clear in his tone. He apparently didn’t care for Dana sticking her nose into his town’s business and he wasn’t going to help her do it.
She wondered if Quinn had told his father that she’d come to town to drag his grandfather’s—Sheriff Dawson’s father-in-law’s—name through the mud. That wasn’t her intention. She wished Quinn believed that, but then why did she care what he thought? The truth was she was touched by the way he’d stood up for his grandfather. He had a family here and he was looking out for them. She liked that. Her own family had disintegrated when her father was killed. Her mother had lost herself in her grief and work and had eventually sent Dana away to boarding school. They had never regained their connection before her mother’s death last month, but Dana still remembered the times when they’d been a family. When she’d broken up with her boyfriend, Jason, several months ago, she was left wondering if she would ever have family of her own again. She’d been looking forward to marriage and one day soon having children. Jason had shattered those dreams when he’d run off with his physical therapist, and her mother’s death had left her completely alone in the world.
She sighed. No use swooning over the ruggedly handsome Quinn Dawson. She imagined he was looking forward to one day having a wife and four or five kids and living the small-town family dream. She wasn’t really suited for that kind of life. She glanced around the room at Rich Dawson. He’d already moved up in ranks and she figured he would one day follow in his father and grandfather’s footsteps and become sheriff. Did Quinn have those same ambitions? By his own admission, he’d taken a job outside of his family’s chosen profession. Was there some reason he hadn’t climbed on board the law enforcement career train?
She felt herself flush. He was right about her. She was always questioning things. Asking too many questions and allowing her thought process to go off in a million different directions. But she was a reporter and that was her job.
She locked eyes with Sheriff Dawson. “Is this case being actively investigated?”
“Not at this time. It’s been a while since we’ve had any leads.”
“Can you tell me when it was last actively investigated.”
He stood, promptly ending the conversation. “I appreciate your position, but as I said, we don’t release information on open cases.”
It wasn’t the first time she’d gotten flak from local authorities not wanting to share their records, but she was a little surprised that she wasn’t able to convince Sheriff Dawson to change his mind. Her charm and notoriety almost always worked.
“Sheriff, the case is thirty years old. Surely, you can make an exception given the age of the investigation. This may very well be a case where fresh eyes can make a difference.”
“My father-in-law was the sheriff at the time of these murders. I was friends with Paul and Rene Renfield. This town was shaken to its core by this incident. Believe me, Miss Lang, the case has been thoroughly investigated. Two people died that night, a woman and child, but this entire town was affected by it.”
She stood, too, realizing she wasn’t going to get anywhere with him. He wasn’t open to fresh eyes. But how would he feel if she presented him with evidence that Alicia Renfield didn’t die that night
