Colton 911: Family Under Fire. Jane Godman

guess that’s why Sean and Delilah chose you. They finally got something right.”

      Sean Dodd was a cattle rustler who had been implicated in a murder. Delilah was a skilled accountant who cooked the books to make it look like his investments were honest. They had chosen a life on the wrong side of the law, but could they have foreseen that they would die this way? It felt like a step too far for a couple who had always struck her as overconfident.

      And they chose us. Not Everett or Alyssa, but the two of them. It was a bittersweet reminder of how good they’d once been together. So good that the Dodds had seen something in them that they wanted for their daughter if there came a time when they were no longer around.

      Her relationship with Everett might have ended, but the feelings it had been built on hadn’t gone away. Their shared past was one of the things that would make this new role hard.

      She wished she could say she didn’t walk away from a challenge. But wasn’t that what she’d done four years ago? She shook away the thought. Times had changed. And this wasn’t about her and Everett.

      It was about working together to make a future out of a tragedy.

      The expression on Joe Meyer’s face as he accompanied Everett into Hoyles’ toy department could hardly have been described as cheery. Dodging between sales assistants dressed as elves and forest animals, Everett marched determinedly to the cash desk at the far end of the store. “FBI? You don’t seriously think this place is pushing drugs or selling guns, do you?”

      Everett couldn’t blame Joe Meyer for his sarcastic comment. Hoyles’ was a Cactus Creek institution and stepping through the doors brought back memories of his own childhood holidays. Ignoring the fact that white Christmases were unusual in Sur County, the toy department was decked out like an icy winter wonderland. With lavishly decorated trees, gingerbread houses, traditional dollhouses and train sets, it was guaranteed to bring a smile to the face of every kid, as well as most adults.

      “I need to speak to the manager.” The young cashier started to protest but was silenced when Everett held up his badge. It didn’t usually see this much daylight when he was on duty. “Now.”

      “Wait here.” After giving him a nervous look, she headed toward a nearby office and knocked on the door. A few seconds later, a tall man emerged.

      “I’m Paul Denmore, toy-department manager. What can I do for you?”

      Because of his suspicions about the possible contents of the package, Everett had decided not to bring it into the busy store. Instead, he had left it in Joe’s delivery van, which was parked on an empty parking lot a block away. He held up his cell phone, displaying a photograph he had taken of the brightly colored package.

      “I need you to tell me everything you know about this.”

      Denmore looked from Everett to the picture, his startled gaze taking in Joe along the way. “It looks like one of our home-delivery gifts.”

      Don’t water an angry seed. That had always been one of Maribelle Colton’s favorite phrases. Everett could almost hear his mom saying it now as he bit back an irritated response.

      “I’m aware of the appearance of this item, Mr. Denmore. What I require from you is confirmation that it did originate in your store. Once I have that, I will be able to safely open the box and check its contents.” Although, having checked it over carefully, he felt confident, based on its weight and size that it wasn’t a bomb, he wasn’t prepared to take any chances. “Finally, I’ll need details of who placed the order.” A doubtful look crossed the other man’s face. “I can get a warrant. Even close the store, if that’s what it takes…”

      “No, no.” Denmore held up his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “I’m happy to cooperate. Please come through to my office.”

      Everett entered the room in the manager’s wake, with Joe trailing behind.

      “If the package is one of ours, there will be a reference number on the gift label, under the recipient’s address,” Denmore said.

      Everett swiped through his photographs until he found a close-up of the gift label. “Does this provide the information you need?”

      “Yes.” Denmore went to his desktop computer and tapped on a few keys. After a moment or two, he leaned closer to the screen. “This item was ordered and paid for online three days ago.” He looked up. “It’s a teddy bear. The largest and most expensive soft toy we stock.”

      “Is there any possibility it could have been tampered with during the packing process?” He wanted to be absolutely sure it would be safe to open that box.

      Denmore pursed his lips. “I can’t give a hundred-percent guarantee, but I can offer you something that comes close.” He pointed to his screen, showing Everett a spreadsheet. “From the moment an order is placed to when it leaves the store, each person who handles the item records the date and time on the system. I can’t see any issues with this one.”

      Everett released the pent-up breath that had been tightening his chest. In one sense, the confirmation that the delivery had come from Hoyles’ was good news. It meant the package was unlikely to contain anything sinister. On the other hand, it provided him with only half an answer. And it raised a whole lot of unwelcome questions.

      “Okay. Now I need to know who placed the order.”

      “Client confidentiality is important to us. We don’t usually give out this sort of information. But if a crime has been committed…” Denmore typed in a few details, a frown crossing his features as the screen changed. “I’m afraid it won’t be possible to give you any information about the sender.”

      “What do you mean?” Everett moved closer, checking out the information on the screen.

      “The toy was purchased using a prepaid gift card.”

      Everett took a moment to consider that information. There could be any number of reasons why someone might want to remain anonymous when making a purchase. They may feel unsafe, threatened by identity fraud, or want to shield their credit-card data from hackers. They might even wish to keep the purchase private from family members.

      Or they might pose a specific threat to a little girl called Kennedy Dodd.

      “And there is no way of tracing who purchased the gift card?”

      “None.” Denmore made a helpless gesture. “This one was purchased for cash on the day the bear was ordered.”

      “But you have security cameras, right? You know the date and time of the purchase and which register was used. I’d like to see those images.”

      “Of course.” Denmore turned to a table at the side of his desk. On it, four monitors displayed split screen images of the interior and exterior of the store. “The security office have a clearer view of what’s going on, but this is the back-up system in case anything goes wrong.”

      Typing the time and date and a reference number into the keypad attached to the system, Denmore waited for one of the screens to load the information he required. After a moment or two, it switched to a single screen view of a register. There were two people waiting to make their purchases and Everett leaned closer to get a better view.

      “This woman has several items, but she could have bought the gift card at the same time.”

      Denmore shook his head. “No. The gift card was a single purchase.”

      Everett pointed. “So it must be this person. He or she has no other items.”

      He or she. It was impossible to tell. The figure at the desk wore dark, shapeless clothing and a jacket with the hood pulled up. Judging by the people and items around, it could have been a small man, or an average-sized woman.

      “The timing shows that was the person who