Colton's Texas Stakeout. C.J. Miller

Colton's Texas Stakeout - C.J. Miller


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her into their conversations, likely centering around the Alphabet Killer. The extent of her involvement in the high-profile case had been to read the letters from Regina to Matthew Colton and provide what clues and interpretations she could. The Granite Gulch police chief, Jim Murray, had believed Annabel might have some insight, being a fresh graduate of the academy and known for her keen attention to detail. He had been right. She had pointed the FBI to the boardinghouse in Rosewood where Regina had been staying.

      Sam and Trevor straightened as the cowboy spoke to them. Their body language was defensive, and after several exchanges, the three men looked ready to throw fists.

      When her brothers led the man to the interrogation room, Annabel beelined for the observation deck. If Trevor and Sam wanted to speak to this man, then it had to be about the Alphabet Killer. She wanted to know how he was involved. Could they finally have a witness who could provide a solid lead?

      Watching the man up close, Annabel confirmed her initial assessment. He was gorgeous. His blond hair was cut longer but kept neat, and his green eyes were piercing. She was glad he decided to sit facing the one-way mirror. She could read his expression and body language.

      Given his clothes and build, he could work on any of the nearby farms or ranches and be new to the area. Her friend Mia was usually the first to know about any eligible bachelors who moved to Granite Gulch. Maybe this emerald-eyed cowboy was already taken and, thus, why Mia hadn’t mentioned him. That would figure. All the best ones were.

      Focusing on the conversation, Annabel turned on the listening speaker, hoping the pop didn’t draw her brothers’ attention. They wanted her uninvolved in the Alphabet Killer case, even though she had made an important contribution to it. She was a rookie on the force, and her brothers believed she needed to earn her chops before catching a real case.

      The cowboy had laid his hat on the table in front of him. “I’ve been cooperative. I’ve answered your questions at length. Please, leave me and my employees alone. You’re impacting my business, and I can’t allow that to continue.”

      As his statements fell into context, Annabel placed him. Jesse Willard, brother to the prime suspect in the alphabet killings. Annabel had seen a photo of him in the case file as a person of interest in assisting Regina Willard. The police and FBI suspected Regina Willard had help hiding from and dodging the authorities, but they hadn’t pinned down who exactly was assisting her. Her personal history was marred with failed relationships. Her parents were dead. But Regina had to have an ally to evade the police and FBI this long.

      “We’re trying to stop a murderer. We’re not backing down from any leads until we find Regina,” Sam said.

      Trevor was watching the exchange with his dark, assessing gaze. Annabel didn’t mistake his silence for disinterest. Trevor was analytical and intelligent. He was likely scrutinizing every movement, every eyebrow raise and every twitch of Jesse’s hand.

      According to the case notes and what Annabel had overheard around the precinct, Trevor had spoken to Jesse before, but Annabel could picture him waiting for Jesse to inadvertently give something away that would help them find Regina.

      Jesse plowed a hand through his hair in frustration. “I’ve told you before. I am not hiding my sister. I haven’t seen her in years.”

      “How do we know you’ll come forward if you see her? What if she stops by your farm? Will you alert us?” Sam asked.

      Jesse stared at Sam for a long moment, unblinking. His mouth twitched as if checking his words and trying to wrangle his temper under control. “While I am not convinced Regina has anything to do with these murders, if I saw her, I would let her know you wanted to speak with her. I’ll even drive her here myself. I want to put this matter behind me. It’s bad for business.”

      “We have undercover FBI agents and police officers across the state looking for Regina. She hasn’t turned up. She’s getting help from someone,” Sam said. He folded his arms and looked pointedly at Jesse.

      Annabel flinched, sensing Sam was pushing Jesse too hard. He had come to the police station on his own accord. If he was involved with a murderer, he would avoid the police. Something about his face and his body language told Annabel he was telling the truth about Regina, and that was disappointing. He didn’t know where Regina was, and, therefore, they still didn’t have a solid lead to follow.

      That didn’t mean Regina wouldn’t turn up at Jesse’s farm in the near future, but for now, Jesse wasn’t hiding her.

      “I can see I’ve wasted my time coming down here,” Jesse said and stood to leave.

      He wasn’t under arrest, and they couldn’t hold him and barrage him with questions. As he walked toward the door, Annabel shut off the speaker and hurried back toward the information desk. Her assignment was the dullest in the entire department, and she’d pretend she hadn’t been listening to the conversation.

      As she rounded the corner, she slammed into Jesse and lost her balance. He smelled of earth and spices, a masculine, clean scent. He reached to steady her, grabbing her arm with his free hand, his Stetson in the other. His grip was strong and firm. Her heart fluttered as she lifted her gaze to meet his. As their eyes met, she was struck all over again by how devastatingly handsome he was and how his green eyes seemed to see into her soul. Electricity and heat snapped between them. Annabel didn’t know she could feel this intensely for a man she hadn’t exchanged one word with. Did Jesse feel it, too?

      Her breasts brushed his hard chest, and she felt every nerve ending in her body come to attention. Long-slumbering desire roared awake. She was already imagining rubbing her body against his, kissing his perfect mouth and running her hands across his hard body.

      “Excuse me,” she said, her voice coming out breathy.

      He nodded at her once swiftly. “Are you all right, ma’am?”

      Nothing in his face gave away he was having the same dirty thoughts about her that she was about him. “I’m fine.”

      He released her arm, and she dropped her hand from the front of his shirt where she had been holding on to the fabric. It wasn’t in her nature to play the damsel in distress, especially when she was in uniform, but something about him made her want to blush, bat her eyelashes and giggle.

      “Have a good day,” he said.

      Why couldn’t she think of something clever to say? Something to flirt with him, to convince him to stick around another few minutes? Flirting wasn’t her forte, and in front of Jesse, she felt tongue-tied.

      As he walked away, she turned to watch him leave, appreciating how his jeans hung low on the tilt of his hips and—

      “Annabel.”

      She turned at the sound of her name. Sam was glaring at her. Trevor was assessing her. She set her hand on her hip, giving them as much sass as she could muster. “What?”

      “What are you doing? Do you know who that man is?” Sam asked.

      “Jesse Willard. Person of interest in an ongoing investigation,” she said, feeling hot and bothered and trying to pretend to be unaffected by her run-in with Jesse. Could her brothers see on her face she was attracted to Jesse? It had been obvious to her, and she felt her brothers would be quick to pick up on changes in her expression or body language.

      “Person of interest in a serial-killer investigation. Watch yourself,” Sam said.

      Though younger than her, Sam outranked her in the Granite Gulch Police Department. She wanted to shoot her mouth off and remind him that she was a police officer, she could handle herself, and she didn’t need his warning. But she kept her mouth shut, knowing her rookie status combined with Sam’s in with their boss, Chief Jim Murray, could mean she’d face another week of the world’s most boring assignments. As it was, she was doomed to a morning of fielding nonimportant, nonemergency calls, like explaining to the town busybody why a couple’s consensual, adult affair wasn’t a matter for the police or why a missing cat didn’t warrant a fire department, EMT and police response.

      “Yes,


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