Single Father Sheriff

“I think there are some similarities.” He hunched forward in his chair. “There are cases where a serial killer is active and then the killings just stop, sometimes because the killer goes to prison for some other crime. Then when he’s paroled, he starts killing again.”

“So you think the man who kidnapped my sister is on the loose and picking up where he left off over two decades ago?” She folded her hands in front of herself, and his gaze dropped to her white knuckles.

Before his action even registered in his brain, his hand shot out and he covered her clasped hands with one of his. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so blunt.”

“I’d rather you be truthful with me, Sheriff Sloane.”

“Call me Coop. Everyone does.” He slid his hand from hers. “I’d like you to be truthful with me, too, Ms. Rush.”

Her eyes flickered. “Call me Kendall, and I’ll be as truthful as I can. What do you want to ask me?”

So he wouldn’t be tempted to touch her again, he dragged his notebook in front of him and tapped the eraser end of his pencil on the first page. “What do you remember about that night?”

“That’s an open-ended question.”

“Okay. Why were you and your sister spending the night at your aunt’s house instead of your own?”

“If you read the case file, you know the answer to that question.”

“You’re not going to make this easy, are you?”

Tucking her hair behind one ear, she ran her tongue along her lower lip. “I’m trying to make it easy on you and save some time. A lot of that stuff is in the case file. I don’t see the point in rehashing it with me.”

“You’re the therapist. You understand the importance of reliving memories, of telling someone else your version of events. Isn’t that what therapists are supposed to do?” His lip curled despite his best efforts to keep his feelings about therapists on neutral ground.

“You’re trying to psychoanalyze me?”

“I’m trying to see if you have anything to offer that doesn’t come through on a page written twenty-five years ago.” He snorted. “Unless you’re trying to tell me talk therapy doesn’t work. Does it?”

She studied his face, staring into his eyes, her own dark and fathomless. Could she read the disdain he had for therapy? He’d brought up the therapy angle only to make her feel comfortable.

She tapped the table between them with her index finger. “Therapy is supposed to help the subject. You want me to start spilling my guts to help you, not to help myself.”

He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. God, he wished he was questioning Wyatt again and not this complicated woman.

The gesture must’ve elicited her pity because she started talking.

“Kayla and I were at Aunt Cass’s that night because my parents were fighting again. Aunt Cass, my mother’s sister, felt that my parents needed to work out their differences one-on-one and not in front of the kids.”

“The police suspected your father of the kidnapping at first because of the fight.”

“I didn’t realize that at the time, of course, but that assumption was so ridiculous. I’d given a description of the kidnapper, and I would’ve recognized my dad, even in a mask. I suppose the police figured I was too traumatized to give an accurate description or I was protecting my father.”

“What was your description, since the guy had a ski mask on?” He doodled in his notebook because Kendall had been right. All this info was in the case file.

“He was wearing a mask, gloves, and he was taller and heavier than my dad. That I could give them. Oh, and that he had a gravelly voice.”

“He just said a few words, though, right? ‘Get off’ or ‘let go’?”

She shifted her gaze away from him and dropped her lashes. “I’d grabbed on to his leg.”

“Brave girl.”

“It didn’t stop him.”

His eye twitched. Did she feel guilty because she didn’t stop a grown man from kidnapping her twin?

“No surprise there.”

Her dark eyes sparkled and she shrugged her shoulders.

“He took something from you, didn’t he?”

“My twin sister. My innocence. My security. My mother’s sanity. My family. Yeah, he took a lot.”

He wanted to reach for her again and soothe the pain etched on her face, but he tapped his chin with the pencil instead. “Not that it can compare with any of those losses, but he also took a pink ribbon from your hair.”

The color drained from Kendall’s face, and a muscle quivered at the corner of her mouth.

“Do you want some water?” He pushed back from the table. “You look pale.”

“I’m okay.” Her chest rose and fell as she pulled in a long breath and released it. “I’d forgotten about that ribbon. Pink was Kayla’s favorite color. Mine was green. That night Aunt Cass had put our hair in pigtails, and Kayla had insisted on tying pink ribbons in my hair while she tried the green. I was glad he took that ribbon.”

“Why?” He held his breath as Kendall’s eyes took on a faraway look.

“I always thought that when Kayla woke up and found herself with this strange man, she’d feel better seeing the pink ribbon. Now...” She covered her eyes with one hand.

“Now?” He almost whispered the word, his throat tight.

“Now I think that he just killed her, that she never saw the ribbon.”

When her voice broke, he rose from his chair and crouched beside her. He took the hand she had resting on the table and rubbed it between both of his as if she needed warming up.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m forcing these memories and thoughts back to the surface.”

A misty smile trembled on her lips. “This is exactly what I put my clients through every day.”

“And it’s supposed to help them. Is it helping you?”

Sniffling, she dabbed the end of her nose with her fingertips. “This is well-traveled territory. It’s not like I haven’t been through all of this before with my own therapist.”

“You see a therapist?” He sat back on his heels.

“All therapists do at the beginning. It’s part of our training, and most of us keep it up because it helps our work.”

“So I must be a poor substitute.” Although he could probably do a better job than half the quacks out there.

She curled her fingers around one of his hands. “She never holds my hand, so you’ve got her beat there.”

He squeezed her fingers and released them as he backed up to his own seat. “Did your therapy ever bring up any memories of that night that you hadn’t realized as a child? The man’s accent? Someone he reminded you of?”

“Nothing like that.” She stretched her arms over her head. “I don’t have any repressed memories of the event, if that’s what you’re driving at, Doctor Sloane.”

He stroked his chin, wishing he had a clean shave. “You know, sometimes I feel more like a psychiatrist than a cop when I’m questioning people.”

“So tell me.” She wedged her elbows on the table and sunk her chin into one cupped palm. “What makes you think these two kidnappings are at all related to the Timberline Trio case? Wyatt mentioned you were working on some theory that the FBI didn’t share.”

When Kendall mentioned the FBI, he ground his back teeth together. He’d never met a more arrogant bunch, who seemed more interested in dotting i’s and crossing t’s than doing any real investigative work.

“It’s something I’d rather keep to myself.”

She swiped his glass from the table and jumped up from her chair. As she sauntered toward the sink, she glanced over her shoulder. “You want me to help you, but you won’t share your findings?”

“Can you keep a secret?” He sucked in his bottom lip as he watched her refill his glass with water from the tap. She’d lured him into a comfortable intimacy, making him forget that she’d lied about the spider, but she seemed like someone who could keep secrets because she had plenty of her own.

“Who am I going to tell? I’m only going to be here for a short time anyway. Pack up the house, list it, outta here.”

He scooted back his chair and stood up, leaning his hip against the table. “When this guy snatched the two children on separate occasions, he left something behind.”

“What?” She placed the glass on the counter and wiped her fingers on the dish towel hanging over the oven’s handle.

“When he took the boy, he left a plastic dinosaur. When he took the girl, he left...a pink ribbon.”

Chapter Three

The room tilted and Sheriff Sloane’s handsome face blurred at the edges. The pink hair ribbon that she’d found in the drawer of the cabinet burned a hole in her pocket where she’d stuffed it.

What did this mean? Who had put the ribbon in the drawer? What was the significance of the ribbon left at the scene of the kidnapping?

She swallowed. “A dinosaur?”

“You didn’t know that, did you?” He reached over and took the glass from the counter. “When Stevie Carson was kidnapped, his parents insisted that one of his dinosaurs from his collection was missing. When Harrison Keaton was taken from his bedroom, the same kind of dinosaur as Stevie’s was on the floor.”

“The boy’s parents confirmed the dinosaur didn’t belong to him...to Harrison?” She twisted her fingers in front of her.

He gulped down half of the water. “No. That’s why the FBI isn’t looking at this angle. Harrison’s parents can’t say whether the dinosaur belongs to him or not.”

“And the p-pink ribbon?”

“Same thing. The ribbon was on the little girl’s dresser. Cheri Douglas wears ribbons. She likes pink.”

Kendall eked out a tiny breath. Sounded like a coincidence to her. Lots of little boys played with plastic dinosaurs. Lots of little girls wore ribbons, especially pink ones, in their hair. Sheriff Sloane was grasping at straws, perhaps trying to stay relevant as the FBI moved into Timberline and took over the investigation.

She hooked her thumb in the front pocket of her jeans, the ribbon tickling the end of her finger. “Your theory is a stretch.”

“Could be.” He downed the rest of the water. “I’ll let you get back to work, Kendall. If anything comes to you while you’re still in town, give me a call.”

He plucked a white business card from the front pocket of his khaki shirt and held it out between two fingers.

Taking it from him, she glanced at the embossed letters before shoving it in her back pocket. “I’ll do that.”

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention the ribbon or dinosaur to anyone else—just in case they mean something.”

“My lips are sealed. As a therapist, I’m good at keeping secrets. It’s part of my job description.”

“I figured you were, or I wouldn’t have told you. I think you’re probably very good at keeping secrets.” He jerked his thumb toward the living room. “I’m gonna head on out.”

She followed him into the other room and then scooted past him to open the front door. “It was nice meeting you, Sheriff Sloane—Coop. I sure hope you can help those families, and I wish I could do more.”

“I appreciate your time, Kendall. I’ll probably be seeing you around before you leave.” He stopped on the porch and did a half turn. “Watch out for those...spiders.”

She squinted through the heavy mesh of the screen door at the sheriff as he climbed into his SUV. He beeped his horn once as he backed down the drive.

He hadn’t bought her story about the spider. She did hate the creepy crawlies, but that mad flight from the house would’ve been over-the-top even for her.

Shutting the door, she dug into her pocket, the ribbon twining around her fingers. She pulled it free and dangled it in front of herself.

The soft pink had a slight sheen to it that caught the lamplight. It couldn’t be the same one yanked from her pigtail that night or even its companion. A twenty-five-year-old ribbon would be faded and frayed, not buoyantly dancing from her fingertips.

She dropped it on top of the cabinet and shuffled through the drawer where she’d found it. Nothing else jumped out at her, not even a spider.

Although the ribbon had spooked her, there was probably a good, reasonable explanation for its presence in the drawer—not that she could think of one now.

She grabbed another handful of papers and shoved them into the plastic garbage bag. The sooner she got Aunt Cass’s place ready, the sooner she could get out of this soggy hellhole.

And the sooner she could escape the tragedies of Harrison and Cheri. Damn Sheriff Sloane for naming them and making them human—a boy who liked dinosaurs and a girl who liked pink hair ribbons.

And damn Sheriff Sloane for peeling back her facade so easily. He’d just given her another reason to run back to Phoenix.

A man like that spelled trouble.

* * *

A FEW HOURS LATER, Kendall scrubbed the grit and dust from her skin under the spray of a warm shower—her first since arriving in Timberline because she’d forgotten to contact the gas company until she got here. If she’d known she would be having a meet and greet with the hunky sheriff in town, she would’ve gotten on that sooner.

She’d been dreading the social engagement tonight but after finding that ribbon and answering the sheriff’s prying questions, she was glad for the distraction.

Melissa Rhodes, a friend of hers from high school, had invited her over for a dinner party. Even if she didn’t plan to stay in Timberline longer than she had to, she’d use the time to catch up with some old friends—the few that still remained.

The dinnertime conversation had better not revolve around the current kidnappings or she’d have to cut the evening short.

She stepped into a pair of skinny jeans and pulled some socks over the denim and finished off with knee-high boots. Topped with a sweater, the outfit pretty much defined the casual look for the Washington peninsula.

Her flip-flops and summer skirts called to her, but she hadn’t even packed them for this cold climate.

She braided her long hair over one shoulder, brushed on a little makeup, and then yanked a wool shawl off the hook by the door.

Crossing her arms, she faced the living room and took a deep breath without worrying about choking on the dust for the first time since she’d arrived. After Sheriff Sloane had left, she’d gotten down and dirty with a rag and a can of furniture polish. She even took a vacuum to the drapes at the windows.

Rebecca, her Realtor, would be thrilled with the progress.

After locking up, she slid into her aunt’s old truck and trundled down the drive to the main road. The lush forest hugged the asphalt on either side, the leaves still dripping moisture from the rain shower an hour ago.

The brakes on the truck had seen better days, and Kendall mentally added the sale of the vehicle to her list of to-do items. There had to be some local kids who wanted to practice their auto shop skills on an old beater.

She drove the few miles on slick roads and pulled behind a line of cars already parked on the street in front of Melissa’s house—Melissa and Daryl’s house. Daryl had come to Timberline almost two years ago to take a job with Evergreen Software and had fallen for a local girl. Melissa had never left Timberline since she’d had to take care of her mom who’d had Parkinson’s disease. She’d found her prince charming anyway, in the form of a software engineer.

As she ground the gear shift into Park, Kendall winced. Anyone interested in this truck had better be a good mechanic.

She jumped from the truck and wrapped her shawl around her body as she headed up the pathway to the house. Warm lights shimmered from the windows and smoke puffed from the chimney.

She knocked on the door, tucking the bottle of cabernet under one arm.

A man—presumably Daryl—opened the front door and broke into an immediate smile. “You must be Kendall.”

“I am.” She stuck out her hand. “And you must be Daryl.”

Taking her hand, he pulled her over the threshold. “Honey, Kendall’s here.”

Kendall’s gaze shifted over his shoulder to the living room, and her fingers tightened around the neck of the bottle as several pairs of eyes focused on her. The few friends Melissa had mentioned looked like a full-scale party, and it seemed like she’d just interrupted their conversation.

She rolled her shoulders. She liked parties. She liked conversations—some topics better than others.

“I brought sustenance.” Kendall held up the bottle of wine.

“We can always use more alcohol.” Melissa broke away from a couple and approached Kendall, holding out her hands. “So good to see you, Kendall.”

Kendall hooked her friend in a one-armed hug. “Same. You look great.”

“And you look—” Melissa held her at arm’s length “—tan. I’m so jealous. I’m as pale as ever.”

“What do you expect when the sun shines maybe three times a year, if you’re lucky?” Kendall jerked her thumb over her shoulder at the damp outdoors.

“She’s dissing our lovely, wet, depressing weather.” Melissa held up the bottle to read the label. “But she’s not snobby enough to dis our local wineries.”

As Melissa peeled away from her side to put the wine in the kitchen, Kendall stepped down into the living room. She waved and nodded to a few familiar faces, shrugging off her shawl.

Melissa materialized behind her, a glass of wine in one hand. “This isn’t yours. Is merlot okay?”

“Fine. The other stuff’s for you and Daryl to drink later.”

“Thanks. Let me take your shawl. We keep it warm in here.” Daryl joined them, and Melissa patted her husband’s arm. “Daryl’s a transplant from LA. After two years, he’s still not acclimated.”

“Has my scatterbrained wife introduced you to everyone?” He went around the room, calling out names Kendall forgot two seconds later, until he named everyone there.

Melissa started carrying dishes to the dining room table, and Kendall broke away from the small talk to help her. The other guests’ conversation had seemed guarded, anyway, and she’d bet anything they’d been talking about the kidnappings before her arrival.

Joining Melissa in the kitchen, she tapped a Crock-Pot of bubbling chili sitting on the kitchen counter. “Do you want this on the table, or are you going to leave it here?”

“You can put that on the table next to the grated cheese and diced onions.”

Kendall hoisted the pot by its handles and inhaled the spicy aroma. “Mmm, this has to be your mom’s recipe.”

“It is.” She patted the dining room table. “Right here.”

Kendall placed the Crock-Pot on the tablecloth and removed the lid. “What else?”

“Can you help me scoop some tapenade and salsa and some other goodies into little serving dishes?”

“Absolutely, as long as I can sample while I’m scooping.” Kendall pulled a small bowl toward herself and plopped a spoonful of guacamole in the center. “I like Daryl.”

“Yeah, he’s an uptight programmer—just perfect for his flaky, artsy-fartsy wife.”

“Opposites do attract sometimes. He’s a good balance for you.”

“And what about you?” Melissa pinched her arm. “Any hot guys in hot Phoenix?”

“Lots, but nobody in particular. You single gals here in Timberline hit the jackpot when Evergreen Software came to town, didn’t you?”

“It definitely expanded the dating scene, but a lot of the Evergreen employees came with ready-made families. Came to Washington for clean air, clean living, safety. Or at least it was safe until...” Melissa shoved a tapenade-topped cracker into her mouth.

“I know all about the recent kidnappings, Melissa.” She scraped the rest of the guac into the bowl. “Wyatt Carson dropped by today and so did Sheriff Sloane.”

“Coop already talked to you?”

“He came by the house this afternoon.”

“Talk about your hot property.” Melissa licked her fingers.

“He is definitely hot.” Kendall elbowed her friend in the ribs. “I’d like to see him without all that khaki covering everything up.”

“Ladies? Need any help?”

Kendall’s face burned hotter than the salsa she was dumping into the bowl. She didn’t have to turn around to know who’d crept up behind them. She’d been listening to that low-pitched, smooth voice all afternoon.

“Hey, Coop. Glad you could make it.” Melissa nudged Kendall’s foot with her bare toes. “Have you met Kendall Rush yet?”

Kendall got very busy wiping salsa spills from the counter as she glanced over her shoulder, trying not to zone in on the way the man’s waffle knit shirt stretched across his broad chest. “We met this afternoon. Hello again, Sheriff Sloane.”

“I thought we were on a first-name basis. Call me Coop.”

He entered the kitchen with a few steps and, even though he still must’ve been yards behind her, it felt like he was breathing down her neck.

“Do you need any help in here, Melissa?”

“I do not. We have it all under control.” She tapped Kendall’s arm. “My hands are goopy. Can you grab a cold beer for Coop from the fridge?”

Kendall shuffled over a few steps and yanked open the refrigerator. “What kind would you like?”

“Anything in a bottle, not a can. Surprise me.”

She studied the bottled beer, grateful for the cool air on her warm cheeks. Had he heard their schoolgirl conversation about him? She grabbed a bottle with a blue label and spun around, holding it up. “How’s this?”

He ambled toward her, his eyes, as blue as the label on the bottle, sparkling with humor. He reached for the beer and for an electrifying second his fingertips brushed hers. With his gaze locked on hers, he said, “This’ll do.”

“Well, then.” Melissa grabbed a dish towel and wiped her hands. “Once we get these bowls to the table, dinner will be served.”

Coop reached around Kendall, his warm breath brushing her cheek, and pinched the edge of a serving dish between his fingers. “I’ll get this one.”

Kendall followed him to the dining room while Melissa made wide-eyed faces at her, which she had no idea how to interpret.

“Come and get it,” Melissa called out to the group. “Paper plates and bowls on both sides of the table. Nothing but first class around here.”

Coop stuck to her side as they both filled up plates and bowls with food.

Stopping at the chili, Kendall spooned some into her bowl and held up the ladle to Coop. “Have you tried Melissa’s famous chili yet?”

“Nope. Fill ’er up.”

She dipped the spoon into the dark red mixture and ladled it into his bowl. “Another?”

He nodded.

“This stuff only makes it better.” She sprinkled some grated cheese, chopped onions and diced avocado on the top.

Holding her plate in one hand and a bowl in the other, her fingers curled around her plastic cutlery, Kendall shuffled into the living room and nabbed a spot at a card table Melissa had set out for her guests. As she placed her food on the plastic tablecloth, Coop joined her.

“You left your wineglass in the kitchen. Do you want a refill?”

“I don’t have far to drive, but I’m still driving. I’ll take some iced tea. There are some cans in the fridge.”

“Responsible driver.” He put his fist over his heart. “Just what a man of the law wants to hear.”

By the time Coop returned with their drinks, Melissa and Daryl had claimed the other two places at the table, but they didn’t last long. One or the other and sometimes both kept hopping up to see to their guests’ needs, which left Kendall alone with the sheriff...which suited her just fine.

“Verdict on the chili?” She poked the edge of his empty bowl with her fork.

“Awesome. I’m going to have to ask her for the recipe.”

Blinking, she stole a glance at his ring finger, which she hadn’t bothered to check before. Bare. She hadn’t pegged him as a domestic sort of guy. Maybe he was joking about getting the recipe.

With his face all serious, he took a sip of the beer he’d been nursing all through dinner and started cutting into a piece of barbecued chicken.

“Did you have any more scares cleaning up your aunt’s place after I left?”

Knots tightened in her gut, but she didn’t know if thinking about the pink ribbon had caused the sensation or the fact that Coop had nailed her as a liar.