Trail of Lies. Margaret Daley

was compact, five feet nine inches with medium-length black hair. See if he fits the description.”

      Daniel hurried toward his truck. He felt as though Melora was the key to what was going on. He would stick to her like glue.

      Thirty minutes later, he pulled into the parking lot of the building where Alicia Wells lived. When he entered the apartment, the sheriff waved him over and pointed at a spot on the rug, the size of a quarter. “Found this after I called you. We tested it. That’s fresh blood.”

      THREE

      “So you think it’s human?” Daniel scanned Alicia Wells’s living room.

      “Yes. No signs of a pet. But the lab will have to confirm it and the blood type.”

      “Why do you think she ran?” Daniel spotted a desk with some open drawers.

      The sheriff stiffened.

      “Because her clothes and most of her personal belongings are gone. I didn’t see this blood until a second walk-through.”

      “So you’re thinking someone took her and made it look like she left?”

      Sheriff Layton stroked his chin. “Possibly. I suppose there could be a simple explanation for the blood, like she cut herself. It certainly isn’t enough to kill her.” He flipped back the edge of the rug.

      Daniel noticed several more spots of what looked like dried blood along that edge—not nearly enough to indicate she was seriously injured. But his gut feeling on this was they’d find Alicia dead. He hoped he was wrong, but the people they were dealing with wouldn’t hesitate to kill someone after they got what they wanted. “I’ll have my office look into Alicia Wells if that’s okay with you.”

      “Fine by me.” The sheriff started for the bedroom. “I suspect Ms. Wells didn’t go willingly.”

      “If Alicia gave someone the code and key to the house, that would explain the how of the break-in but not the why or the who.”

      “You don’t think it was just a robbery attempt?”

      “I think there’s more to it. Possibly connected to Captain Pike’s murder.” Halting at the entrance into the room, Daniel surveyed the open drawers, the empty closet, the rumpled coverlet on the bed.

      “All connected to Axle’s body being found?”

      “That’s what I’m thinking. It was found at a drop site used by the group we think is responsible for Greg’s death.” Axle was somehow connected to the Lions of Texas, either he was one of them or he crossed one of them.

      Daniel covered the distance to the closet and examined it—hangers tossed on the carpeted floor, a few clothing items still hanging on the rod, a box of papers scattered about the remaining three pairs of shoes. Kneeling by the mess, he took a pen out of his pocket and used it to move some of the pieces around.

      “Look at this.” Daniel glanced over his shoulder at the sheriff. “These are financial papers. If she was running, why didn’t she take them with her?”

      “Maybe she was interrupted and didn’t have time to come back for them? Maybe that blood has been there for a while. Someone obviously tried to cover it up but missed the few spots on the rug. It kind of blends with the other colors.”

      “We’ll need to look into her accounts and see if she’s received any large amounts of money.” Something out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. Leaning forward, Daniel poked under the shelving in the closet with his pen. He slid out a hundred dollar bill. “Or not. Cash works just as well.”

      Melora left the hospital gift shop after volunteering behind the counter. She had to keep up appearances, act as though nothing was wrong. And every Wednesday morning she helped in the auxiliary’s gift shop. She didn’t want to make anyone nervous.

      Looking down, she opened her purse and dug around for her car keys. She nearly collided with Dr. Jorge Cantana, the father of Kaitlyn’s friend Cara, but stopped herself one step short when she glanced back up.

      Startled, he pulled his gaze away from a folder he was reading, his dark hair tousled. “Sorry, Melora.” His warm appraisal skimmed down her. “Where are you heading to? Finished volunteering?”

      “Yes. I have a meeting at one for the Alamo Planning Committee. We’re really getting geared up for a big celebration for the Battle of the Alamo anniversary.”

      “How do you keep everything straight?”

      She withdrew her PDA from her purse. “By counting on this. What’s got you flustered?”

      “Flustered?”

      She flipped her hand toward his white doctor coat, buttoned wrong.

      He chuckled. “Oh.” After fixing it, he peered up at Melora. “One of my patients isn’t responding to his treatment. I’m trying to figure out what else I can do.”

      Jorge had been their family doctor for years. He was her uncle’s doctor, too. He and his wife had been there for her after Axle had disappeared. He’d even tried to help her with Kaitlyn when his busy schedule allowed.

      “Just remember to take some time for yourself. I worry about you working so hard.”

      He grinned. “Don’t. I thrive on working. Thankfully, my wife understands.”

      “Tell Beth hi for me. I hope our daughters can get together again. Kaitlyn enjoys playing with Cara.”

      “That sounds like a good idea.” He started to move away, stopped and turned back. “If you need to talk, I’m available. So is Beth. I know Axle has been gone for two years, and you felt something had happened to him, but now knowing for sure still has to be processed.”

      “I appreciate that.” If she wasn’t so afraid, she might actually have time to do that very thing. But all her energy had to be focused on keeping her daughter safe. Figuring out a way to get their lives back.

      Checking her watch, Melora noticed she was running late for the meeting. She hurried from the hospital and located her silver Lexus in the parking lot. As she slid behind the steering wheel, she scouted the area. She couldn’t find anyone watching her, but she felt it deep in her bones. She’d felt that way ever since Axle’s body had been identified.

      Who was watching her? Why were they watching? She wasn’t going to talk. She didn’t even have much she could tell the authorities. She didn’t know the details of her husband’s activities, and she planned to make that clear to the Texas Rangers.

      Two years ago, the two men who had broken into her house had told her they were after a flash drive. They hadn’t found it then and had thankfully left her unharmed but with a warning. Had the man broken into her house two days ago because of the police’s renewed interest in Axle? Had they stopped looking for the flash drive because they’d thought Axle had it on him? Then when his body was discovered, they realized the device wasn’t with him?

      Her head throbbed with all the unanswered questions. She pulled out of the parking lot and drove toward the meeting’s location.

      She really didn’t know whom to trust. Trust in the Lord. The thought popped into her head as she turned into the space at the side of the office building. She’d pleaded with the Lord to help her when everything had started falling apart three years ago. He obviously hadn’t thought she was worth His trouble. So somehow she had to find a way out of this mess by herself.

      On the elevator ride she composed herself. She couldn’t let people know what was going on. She had to be in control, poised—play the role she’d been cast in.

      When she stepped into the hallway on the tenth floor, she came face-to-face with Rangers Daniel Boone Riley and Anderson Michaels. She tried to hide her surprise mixed with concern, but Daniel’s assessing gaze honed in on her. She remembered at the funeral last week the kindness in his eyes when they had connected