The Deputy's Redemption. Delores Fossen

Colt pressed a button on his phone as if he’d declared war on it. “Joplin convinced the county district attorney to look into charging my father with your attempted murder.”

      * * *

      COLT STARED AT the coffeepot, willing it to brew faster than it was. He needed another hit of caffeine now. Maybe, just maybe it’d get rid of the cobwebs before Elise finished her shower and hit him with the questions that she no doubt would have.

      Questions that he still couldn’t answer.

      All these hours later, everything was still up in the air. They had no leads on the identity of the person who’d hired the hit man, Simon Martinelli, and so far, Cooper hadn’t managed to convince the county DA that his father was innocent.

      That riled him to the core.

      His dad had been through too much already what with Jewell’s return to Sweetwater Springs. Now his father might not only be charged with Elise’s attempted murder but also the very homicide that Colt was certain Jewell had committed.

      Well, almost certain.

      But even if it hadn’t been her, then his father damn sure hadn’t been the one to kill Whitt Braddock. That meant Colt had to figure out a way to keep his dad out of jail along with making sure Elise wasn’t attacked again. It would help to find out who was behind the attempt to kill her. If he could prove his father had no part in that, then the county DA would back off.

      He hoped.

      Of course, there was still the problem with Elise’s testimony itself. With those old memories, she could put his father at the crime scene, and because Roy had been drunk, there was no way he could refute it.

      “Is that scowl for me?” Elise asked.

      Colt cursed and nearly scalded his hand with the coffee he was pouring. He’d been in such deep thought about his dad that he hadn’t heard her come into the kitchen. Hardly the vigilant lawman that he needed to be right now, and that seemed to be a particular problem for him anytime he was around her.

      “Yes, it’s for you,” he mumbled.

      But that lie died on his lips when he looked at her.

      She was dressed simply in jeans and a red sweater, but every bit of the fear and worry was still etched on her face. Coupled with that bandage on the side of her head and the dark circles under her eyes, it was obvious that her night had been as bad as his.

      Maybe worse.

      After all, no one had tried to kill him in the past twelve hours.

      Elise made a soft sound of frustration and stepped around him to get a cup from the cabinet. “Well, I would scowl back, but the stitches hurt when I move my face.” She added a dry smile and winced to prove it.

      Colt hated that attempt at bad humor, not only because he wasn’t in the mood for any kind of humor but also because he knew that it had indeed hurt. Too bad the man responsible for those stitches and her pain had been blown to smithereens and couldn’t give them any answers.

      However, Martinelli wasn’t the only way to get to the bottom of this. It would take some good old-fashioned detective work.

      “I’m having inquiries made about the two people you’re doing background checks on,” Colt let her know, and he tipped his head to the paper on the table that he’d been using to make notes.

      Obviously, she hadn’t expected that because her eyes widened just a fraction. “But I didn’t give you their names yet.”

      He gave her a flat look, tapped his badge. “Meredith Darrow and Duane Truett. I got the names from your boss when I called him in the middle of the night.”

      Yet something else she hadn’t expected. And obviously didn’t approve of. Her boss hadn’t cared much for the late-night call, either, but the man had cooperated after he’d learned that Elise could have been killed.

      “I knew you’d finally taken some pain meds, and I didn’t want to wake you up to get the names, so I called him. I needed to get a head start on the investigation.”

      That was the only apology Colt intended to issue about doing his job.

      Elise walked to the table, looked over his notes and her attention stayed on the first name he’d jotted down. “‘Buddy Jorgensen,’” she read off. Her former tenant. “I already told you that I ran a check on him. He doesn’t have as much as a parking ticket.”

      “Neither do some serial killers before they’re caught.” Extreme, yes, but he was trying to make a point here. “It won’t hurt to run another check. Is that Buddy’s handiwork on the side of the barn?”

      She nodded but didn’t even glance out the window, though the barn was only about ten yards away and clearly visible from this side of the house. The morning sun practically spotlighted the paint that’d been splattered like blood across the gray-weathered boards. No words or drawings, just the red eyesore. Apparently, Buddy had done the same to the interior of the house, but Elise had already painted over it.

      However, she couldn’t paint over or dismiss the hostility that was now between Buddy and her. Buddy hadn’t wanted to leave the place that he’d rented for over five years. But then he’d been more than just a tenant. He’d worked the ranch, reseeding the pasture and bringing in some livestock.

      All gone now.

      Buddy had taken them with him, but there were signs that Elise was planning to bring in her own cattle along with making some much-needed repairs. There was a stretch of land already marked off with stakes and small flags where she apparently intended to build a stable for the cutting horses she wanted to raise.

      “I think Buddy left town, because I haven’t heard from him since the paint incident,” she explained. “He also apologized for the vandalism and paid for me to have it repainted.”

      “That’s not going to get him off the suspects list,” Colt insisted. “Why didn’t you have the paint taken off the barn?”

      “Because I’m having that one torn down. It needs a lot of repairs, and it was cheaper just to build a new one. It would be a waste of money to repaint it.”

      Still, it couldn’t be easy to look at that every day. It wasn’t a threat, but it was a reminder that someone had gotten close enough to vandalize her home and property.

      Colt tapped Meredith’s name. “Any reason she’d be upset with you?”

      Elise paused. “No reason that she would know of yet.” Another pause. “I’m not exactly giving her a favorable background check, but it’ll be at least another day or two before she learns about that. I just finished my report on her yesterday. But from what I uncovered about her, she could end up facing criminal charges for misusing corporate funds.”

      So, that could be motive, but there hadn’t been enough time for her to have hired a hit man. Well, unless Meredith had already gotten word of what would be in Elise’s report. It was definitely something Colt wanted to find out.

      “And what about him?” Colt asked, tapping Duane Truett’s name.

      “Nothing. He’s squeaky clean.”

      Colt would still put the man under the microscope. There was a reason someone had come after Elise, and he wanted to know who and why.

      “Really?” Elise said, looking at the last name on the list. “You suspect Joplin hired Martinelli?”

      Colt hadn’t just added it as an afterthought, he’d also underlined it. “He’s got motive. If he slings enough mud at my father, or at me and my brothers, then he could get a mistrial.”

      And Jewell could go free.

      Colt wouldn’t care about that as long as going free meant Jewell left town and that there were no charges or allegations made against the rest of his family.

      That wasn’t likely