The Marshal's Hostage (11 page)

Dallas launched himself forward, colliding with the man, and they fell to the ground where she could no longer see them. She hurried, tossing down her bag, so she could run even faster. Joelle bashed her way through the branches and had to skid to a stop so she didn’t run into them.

Even though he was clearly outsized, Dallas dragged the man to his feet and held his gun beneath his chin.

“Talk,” Dallas demanded.
“Now.”

Chapter Eleven

Dallas could do nothing more than watch and wait. Something he wasn’t very good at doing.

Joelle must have felt the same because she was pacing the small observation room and had been doing that for the past hour, ever since Dallas’s boss had insisted that’s where they had to stay.

Because their presence could compromise the interrogation.

The problem was their suspect—aka the slimeball Dallas had chased down in the woods by Rocky Creek—wasn’t saying anything so there was nothing to compromise. Every time Marshal Saul Warner had asked him a question, the man had mumbled that he wanted his attorney. Well, the attorney was on his way, but Dallas figured the lawyer would just tell him to keep up the silent treatment.

The same must have occurred to Joelle because her nerves were showing. It wasn’t just the pacing. She was nibbling on her lip and looking many steps past the uneasy stage. With reason. She could have died today. Again. Dallas was used to facing danger, but this was probably eating away at her.

It also didn’t help that Owen was just one interview room over from them. He was waiting for his lawyer as well to be questioned about the latest incident at Rocky Creek. Saul would do that interview, too, since he had specifically said he wanted Dallas and his brothers to stay away from the suspects.

“You okay?” Dallas asked her.

She didn’t stop pacing or lip nibbling, but she did glance at him. “Who is he and why would he try to kill us?”

Those were million-dollar questions, but Dallas didn’t have any good answers. He’d already suggested that someone had hired the moron to set the fire.

Or rather the smoke.

The fire was contained in the two metal trash cans where someone had placed ingredients that had essentially made smoke bombs. Crude but effective. The smoke could have indeed killed Joelle and him if they hadn’t escaped through the window.

So was this some kind of warning for them to back off the investigation?

Maybe. And when this SOB started talking, that was one of the things Dallas wanted to know, right after he found out who’d hired this guy.

“Sarah and Rudy seemed mighty helpful,” Dallas remarked. Not really answers to Joelle’s questions, but it helped him to work out everything that was already whirling through his head. “A possible pretense, but we do have other suspects—Lindsey and Owen.”

Joelle made a sound of agreement and then repeated it after several moments. Despite Rudy’s and Sarah’s opportunities to have set the smoke bombs and their somewhat lack of cooperation with the investigation, they still weren’t Dallas’s number one suspect.

Owen had that honor.

Dallas got up from the table where he’d been sitting and went closer to Joelle. Probably a bad idea. With their nerves zinging, any closeness and touch could make things worse. Well, worse personally, anyway. But he was just sick and tired of seeing that troubled look on her face.

He pulled her into his arms.

She made another sound, this time of slight surprise. Yeah, he was surprised, too. After that mistake of a kiss in Webb’s office, of all places, he’d vowed to keep his hands off Joelle.

By his calculations, that had lasted about three hours.

When it came to Joelle, his willpower just plain sucked.

Hers, too, apparently. Because she sure didn’t budge from his arms. “It’s no fun having people want us dead,” she whispered. “I keep going over how to put an end to this, and other than Owen’s arrest, I keep coming up blank.”

Owen’s arrest would do it. Well, it would if he was indeed behind these attacks, and if he was, then maybe Saul could squeeze out a confession during the interview.

Joelle eased back a little and looked him directly in the eyes. “I think I need to come clean.”

Dallas had already considered that. Telling Saul about Owen’s blackmail attempt, about everything. “If we’re in jail, we can’t clear our names,” he reminded her.

She didn’t respond to that, but she didn’t take her gaze off him, either. Joelle pressed her hand to the side of his face, and she got that dreamy look. The one that let him know the attraction was still there.

“Damn you,” she mumbled.

Dallas had anticipated she might say several things, but that wasn’t one of them.

“I was over you,” Joelle added, and her dreamy look morphed to narrowed eyes. “And then you do things like this to remind me why I hooked up with you in first place.”

In case he hadn’t understood, she dropped her eyes to the nonexistent space between them.

“Sorry,” he said at the same moment that she said, “Dallas.”

And she didn’t say it with a mean tone. It was the tone to go along with the dreamy look she’d had just seconds earlier. A tone that was like the start of a kiss. Dallas might have obliged, too, if there hadn’t been a sharp knock at the door. A split second later, it opened, and his brother Clayton leaned in.

Joelle and Dallas flew away from each other as if they’d been caught doing something wrong, but Clayton certainly hadn’t missed it. Later, Dallas figured his brother would have questions about what was going on between them.

Yet something else Dallas couldn’t answer.

“His lawyer’s here.” Clayton tipped his head to the adjoining interview room where their suspect and Saul were still engaged in a battle of silence.

A middle-aged guy in a suit walked in. He went straight to his client and started whispering something. There was an intercom system so that Dallas could hear normal conversation, but he definitely couldn’t make out the whispers.

“We ran the suspect’s prints,” Clayton continued, “and the guy’s name is Tim Avery, an on-and-off P.I. Mostly off. He sometimes works as a handyman, but there’s no record of employment for the state and especially not Rocky Creek.”

So there was no reason for the guy to have been there. Of course, Dallas had already guessed that since he’d tried to get away when Dallas had spotted him.

“Got back a couple of reports,” Clayton continued. “Technically, I’m not supposed to see them, but they were hard to avoid since the fax machine is right by my desk. The first was Joelle’s lab work.”

That instantly got their attention, and both Joelle and Dallas turned toward Clayton.

“Someone slipped her a couple of prescription sleeping pills. Nothing serious. Not medically, anyway. I’m sure it wasn’t fun for Joelle to be drugged.”

“It wasn’t.” She wearily pushed her hair from her face. “Can we trace the prescription to Owen?”

“The local sheriff’s working on that now,” Clayton assured her.

Good, anything that would give them solid grounds to go after Owen.

“The other report is from the CSI team out at Rocky Creek,” Clayton continued. “The smoke did damage the window frame some, but they’re going to see what they can get. It’s possible the DNA has degraded, though.”

Joelle groaned softly. “Maybe they can at least get something from the spatter pattern.”

“Maybe,” Clayton agreed, but he didn’t sound overly hopeful. “I thought you’d like to know that the Rocky Creek sheriff questioned both Rudy and Sarah. Both are claiming they had nothing to do with the fire.”

That’s exactly what Dallas figured they’d say. “Someone locked us in. And according to what Joelle found out about a half hour ago, neither of them should have had a key.”

“I checked with the governor’s office,” Joelle added, “and the state official responsible for Rocky Creek had those bar locks installed to prevent anyone, including former employees, from going inside. There are only two keys. The state official has one in his possession, and I have the other.”

“So someone had a key made,” Clayton concluded. It wouldn’t have been hard to do, but the person would have needed access. Of course, all their suspects probably had that, but maybe they could find a locksmith who would confirm which one had done it. Unless the lock had simply been manipulated with some kind of pick device.

Which was always a possibility.

“There’s more,” Clayton went on. “The CSIs found a bug in Webb’s office, and I don’t mean of the insect variety. There was a listening device mounted beneath the desk.”

Dallas groaned. He went back through the things Joelle and he had discussed in that office. Like Sarah’s revelation that the knife could be Rudy’s. The blood spatter. Possible suspects. And yeah, even the old attraction.

Someone had overheard all of that.

But had that been the reason for the fire?

“My client is prepared to make a statement,” the lawyer said, and it wasn’t whispered so Dallas heard it loud and clear. It definitely got his attention.

Joelle’s, too. She hurried closer to the observation glass.

“Mr. Avery is a private investigator and had nothing to do with setting the fire at the Rocky Creek facility,” the lawyer insisted.

“Then why did he run?” Saul immediately fired back.

“Because his client hadn’t wanted him to be seen.”

“Client?” Dallas and Saul said in unison.

The lawyer nodded and said something that Dallas didn’t catch. That’s because at the same moment he heard the footsteps in the hall, and someone spoke. It was a voice he recognized.

Lindsey Downing.

Clayton moved inside the observation room so they could see Lindsey. She motioned toward the lawyer, and much to Dallas’s surprise, the man stepped out of the interview and spoke to her in the hall. Again, a whispered conversation.

One that gave Dallas a bad feeling.

Joelle looked at Dallas, silently questioning what was going on, but he had to shake his head.

“I hired Tim Avery,” Lindsey said when the lawyer finally stepped away and returned to where Avery was waiting. She looked directly at Joelle. “I wanted him to follow you.”

Joelle’s mouth dropped open. “Why?”

And while Dallas wanted to ask the woman a whole lot more, that question was a good start. So was turning off the audio on the intercom. He didn’t want to compromise the interview by having Avery’s lawyer claim that his client’s rights had been violated in any way.

“I hired him to get proof that you were sleeping with Dallas,” Lindsey readily admitted.

Dallas was sure that Joelle looked as stunned as he felt. “But I’m not,” Joelle argued.

Lindsey dismissed that with a wave of her hand. “A matter of time. I know all about the history you’ve had with Dallas, and I figured once you two became lovers again that I wanted proof to show Owen.”

Dallas repeated Joelle’s “Why?”

“So he’d break things off with her, of course.” Lindsey’s tone indicated that the reason was obvious.

But it wasn’t obvious to Dallas. Nor to Joelle, judging by the way she groaned. Before either of them could respond, Clayton’s phone rang, and he stepped outside the room to take the call.

“What did Owen tell you about our so-called engagement?” Joelle demanded from Lindsey.

“We’ve got another visitor,” Clayton called out. “Must be our lucky day,” he added, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

More footsteps, and someone cleared their throat. A moment later, Owen appeared in the doorway. Obviously, he’d heard their voices from the interview room where he was supposed to have been waiting, and he looked about as pleased with Lindsey’s accusations and revelations as Joelle did.

“I told Lindsey the truth.” Owen planted his stare on Joelle. “And the truth is we’re in love and are getting married.”

The words were right, with even a touch of affection in them, but Dallas knew it was a coldhearted threat for Joelle to play along with the lie.

“But she doesn’t love you,” Lindsey snapped. “I can see it, and you could, too, if you’d just look at her. She’s still in love with the marshal.”

“I’m not.” But then Joelle shook her head. “And it doesn’t have any bearing on what’s happening.” She turned her own stare on Owen. “Someone tried to kill us again. Any idea who might have done that?”

Owen glanced at Lindsey. “I heard her say that she hired the man to follow you. Maybe she hired him to set the fire, too.”

Lindsey made a helpless sound, part gasp, part sob, and she snapped toward Owen. “I love you, but I couldn’t do something like that.” Tears sprang to her eyes. “I just wanted you to see what she is, and that she’s not the right woman for you.”

Owen’s expression softened a little, and he brushed his hand down Lindsey’s arm. “Yes, she is, and you’re just going to have to accept that.”

Lindsey made a sound of outrage, and it was so loud that it had Saul stepping from the interview room. He took a look at them all, cursed and eased the door shut.

“This better not be a witness interrogation,” Saul warned.

“It’s not,” Dallas quickly assured him. “Owen didn’t stay in the interview room, and she showed up out of the blue.” He pointed to Lindsey. “She claims she hired the man inside that room to watch Joelle.” And then he pointed to Owen. “I’m guessing he’s just here to tell more lies.”

Owen smiled, probably because he thought Dallas couldn’t elaborate on those lies.

Especially the lies that mattered.

“Uh, guys,” Clayton said, stepping back into the mix. “I got some news.” He looked first at Dallas and then motioned for Saul to step aside.

Saul did, but he didn’t just back away from them, he went much farther down the hall with Clayton. All of them watched and tried to listen, but Dallas couldn’t hear a thing. Whatever Clayton said to him caused Saul’s eyes to widen, and Dallas could have sworn the man blew out a short breath of relief.

“You’re sure?” Saul pressed.

“The fax is on the way,” Clayton explained.

“What’s going on?” Joelle whispered to him.

Dallas had to shake his head. He had no idea, but they didn’t have to wait long because both Saul and Clayton started back toward them.

“You,” Saul said, pointing to Lindsey. He hitched his thumb to one of the interview rooms. “Wait there. No reason for you to be in on this conversation.”

Lindsey huffed and looked around as if she might argue, but she didn’t. Maybe because she figured out it was an argument she couldn’t win. She stormed away, went inside the room and slammed the door.

“The lab just sent us the preliminary test results on the knife and handkerchief,” Saul announced to the rest of them. “The knife’s clean. No prints. No DNA.”