Colton's Christmas Cop. Karen Whiddon

Energy, Hunter considered the new information Layla had given him. While her wedding to Hamlin Harrington might be on hold—along with everyone else’s in town—the fact that a large sum of cash was involved was definitely news. If Fenwick Colton needed the money as badly as Layla claimed, he must be extremely riled up that this Groom Killer had halted the wedding.

      Everyone on the police force, as well as most of the citizens of Red Ridge, had their own opinions about who might be the Groom Killer. Hunter also had his personal number one suspect, though he’d yet to voice his suspicions out loud. Maybe the time had come to do exactly that. What Layla had revealed provided yet another possible motive for Devlin Harrington to want all weddings stopped. Even if Devlin didn’t fit the profile 100 percent, Hunter still felt certain he had a strong motive.

      Unfortunately, Hunter knew he might be the only one who suspected Devlin. Most cops instinctively trusted the criminal profile they’d been given by the professionals.

      As well they should. Last month, RRPD officer West Brand had finished working on the profile of the killer. A ex-FBI agent who’d been undercover on the force until recently, West, along with his former colleagues at the bureau, had developed the profile, which indicated that the Groom Killer was male, white and single. Probably middle to upper class. Stocky build, not particularly attractive and a loner.

      Unfortunately, there were a lot of men in Red Ridge who fit that profile. Devlin Harrington wasn’t one of them. Sure, he was male, white and single, and definitely upper class. And yes, he still lived in one of his father’s mansions. But there the similarities ended. Tall, muscular and golden, Devlin surrounded himself with his admirers. Everyone wanted to be with him, probably due to his money and his good looks, as Hunter knew without a doubt it wasn’t his personality.

      Pompous, arrogant and sneering, Devlin looked down his aristocratic nose at those he considered beneath him. Which seemed to be just about everyone who wasn’t in his inner circle. Hunter himself had had several run-ins with the guy and personally couldn’t stand him. Which was yet another reason he’d kept his suspicions about Devlin to himself.

      After all, there already was an official suspect—Demi Colton’s name had been spelled out in blood next to the first victim. That man, Bo Gage, had been her fiancé before he’d broken up with her in order to propose to another woman. It hadn’t helped that Bo and the Gage family had long been feuding with the Coltons. But the investigation had had unexpected results: Gages and Coltons falling in love. Bo Gage’s brother Detective Carson Gage had fallen for Serena Colton, whom he’d suspected of harboring Demi early on in the case. Now, a few other Coltons and Gages were keeping their romances on the down low until it was safe to announce their engagements. But some on the force still believed Demi could be the guilty party. She’d fled town. There was circumstantial evidence. There were witnesses.

      And Layla’s father, Mayor Fenwick Colton, wanted Demi Colton brought to swift and immediate justice, maybe more than anyone—so that Layla could marry Hamlin for his money.

      Hunter had long doubted Demi’s guilt, and he didn’t blame her for going on the run. His gut told him she was being framed.

      Much of the town remained convinced she was the murderer, but the majority of the police force didn’t believe it. Yes, she was a rough-around-the-edges bounty hunter with a temper. But the witness who claimed to have seen her running away from the crime scene at the time of Bo Gage’s murder was a drug dealer with a rap sheet. Demi wasn’t a killer. Even if she had up and disappeared.

      Several of the other guys in the K9 unit had set up a betting pool. Pay twenty bucks, write down your best guess and put it into the pot. When the Groom Killer was finally apprehended—and no one doubted he or she would be—whoever had guessed correctly would get the cash. If no one even came close, the money would be donated to the Red Ridge animal shelter. So far as he could tell, Hunter was the only one in the unit who hadn’t participated.

      Today he planned to pony up his Andrew Jackson and put his own guess in the pool. After he talked to the chief, that was.

      Once he’d parked in the lot between the police station and training center, Hunter helped Goose down from the vehicle and they headed inside. Goose could scarcely contain her excitement. Her cute little tail twirled circles as she bounced up the sidewalk. This was her favorite place next to home. She’d trained here since she was three months old and knew all the other K9 officers and their dogs.

      Before heading to the squad room, Hunter dropped Goose off with one of the assistant trainers, a young woman named Callie who lit up when she caught sight of the basset. Hunter left them to their mutual admiration lovefest and headed back to his desk.

      Once there, he glanced toward Chief Finn Colton’s office. Now would be as good a time as any. The chief’s secretary, Lorelei Wong, was in charge of the betting pool. Hunter jotted Devlin Harrington’s name on a slip of paper, folded it in half and slipped it into an envelope, which he sealed. He dug a twenty from his wallet, put it with the envelope and passed both to Lorelei with a wink before proceeding around the corner.

      Since Chief Colton kept an open-door policy, Hunter simply knocked on the door frame twice before poking his head in. “You got a minute?”

      Finn glanced up from the report he’d been reading. “Of course,” he said, gesturing to one of the chairs across from his desk. “Have a seat.”

      “Mind if I close the door?” Without waiting for an answer, Hunter did. “I wanted to talk to you about the Groom Killer case.”

      Finn’s brows rose. “Do you have a new lead?”

      “Not exactly. But I’d like to investigate Devlin Harrington’s tech—his phone, laptop, work computer, etc.” Hunter sat, leaning forward earnestly. “I got some information today that gives him a motive. Sort of,” he amended. He filled the chief in on what Layla Colton had told him.

      “So you think Devlin has a problem with his father getting married? To the point that he’d go around killing grooms?”

      Put that way, Hunter had to admit it did sound far-fetched. “It’s possible. Maybe he hates that Hamlin has found a younger, beautiful woman to marry him. Or maybe he’s against Dad putting a huge amount of money into Colton Energy and squandering his inheritance. We also know that Nash was suspicious of Devlin when he discovered Devlin asked out Hayley Patton and she rejected him.”

      Last month, Nash, one of the K9 officers, had spotted Devlin ogling a photo of Hayley on his laptop. Hayley had been engaged to the first victim of the Groom Killer—Bo Gage—after Bo broke his engagement to Demi Colton.

      Coincidence? Not likely.

      “That’s still not enough evidence to justify a warrant,” Chief Colton said, his tone a bit chiding.

      “Well, if you also consider that Layla Colton feels someone’s framing her with the sexual harassment charge against her, that would be two attempts to stop the marriage. And who would want to stop the marriage more than anyone? Devlin Harrington.”

      “Again, only speculation. You know better than that, Hunter.”

      Maybe he did, but Hunter was prepared to continue with speculation that might stick.

      The chief shook his head before Hunter got a chance to speak. “Look, I want to exonerate Demi as much as anyone. While having another viable suspect would certainly go a long way toward doing that, you know as well as I do that’s nothing. Haley’s photo on Devlin’s laptop could simply mean he likes looking at her, as do a lot of guys.”

      “But—”

      The chief held up his hand. “Enough. Devlin’s being watched. If you truly believe he’s behind anything, you’ll have to find more evidence, legally.”

      Hunter nodded, careful to mask his disappointment. “Then that’s what I’ll do,” he said. “Thank you for your time.”

      Back at his desk, he took a seat and began making notes on a pad. Writing things out always helped him clear his head.

      But