“Hallie’s great, and Chris and Sarah love her. The kids’ grandmother is springing for a trip to Disneyland next week for Chris’s birthday. Hallie’s coming with us.”
“That’s great, Ty.”
“How about you and Jessie?”
“Working on it,” he said.
“Listen, you guys stay safe. Let me know if you need me.”
“Will do.” Bran ended the call as Jessie walked back into the living room. At the pale color of her face, his worry kicked in and he rose from the sofa. “What is it?”
“I—I found this in the kitchen.” Her hand shook as held up a card with a red valentine heart on the front. “It’s...it’s from him, Bran. Ray Cummings.”
The muscles across his stomach sharply contracted. Careful not to touch more than the corner, he plucked the card from her trembling fingers and flipped it open, read the handwritten words.
Hello, sweetheart,
Dropped by but you weren’t home. Don’t worry, I’ll be back. We still have unfinished business. See you soon!
Love, Jordy
“Jordy...” she said, her throat working as she swallowed. “That’s what he called himself. I never knew his real name was Ray until they caught him.” Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. She dropped down on the sofa as if her legs wouldn’t hold her any longer. “I’m scared, Bran.”
Fury burned through him. Jessie had been shot at, fought men twice her size trying to protect him, survived a plane crash, and hiked through a freezing desert.
But this man scared her.
He wanted to tear the bastard apart with his bare hands.
His jaw clenched as he sat down on the sofa beside her, reached over and took her hand. “I won’t let him near you, baby. I swear it.” He tipped her chin up, bringing her wet eyes to his face. “He comes after you, he’s a dead man. You believe me?”
Her lips trembled.
“Do you?”
“Yes...” He pulled her into his arms and held her. He had never felt so completely helpless, or enraged.
When her trembling eased, he set her away, got up and prowled the apartment, careful not to touch anything.
“The lock on the door wasn’t broken,” he said, surprised at how calm he sounded. “Any idea how he got in?”
She turned toward the bedroom. “There’s a fire escape outside the window next to my bed. I like fresh air so I might have left the window unlocked. I never really worried about it. Maybe he got in that way.”
The apartment building was older, with molded ceilings and hardwood floors, an electric heater in a faux fireplace in the living room. It gave the place a certain charm, he supposed, and probably the reason Jessie had chosen it. But it was also less secure. He walked into the bedroom and looked at the window, saw that it could easily be opened if the lock wasn’t turned, which it wasn’t.
He didn’t know any of the local police, but he knew sheriff’s detective Mace Galen, still had Galen’s number in his phone contacts.
He pulled out his cell. “It’s Bran Garrett, Detective. I need a favor, information on a guy named Ray Cummings.”
“I hear Wayne Coffman is dead,” Galen drawled, ignoring his request. “Murdered in his army prison cell. What the hell happened?”
“How’d you hear?”
“A CID agent named Tripp phoned the information in since the sheriff’s department made the original arrest.”
“Coffman’s dead, all right. Unfortunately, he was killed before he gave up the intel we needed.”
“They catch the guy who killed him?”
“Not that I’ve heard.”
“Coffman winds up dead and your intel dies with him. Sounds pretty convenient for someone.”
“Yeah, it was. Cummings is another matter. Arrested in Denver for serial rape about three years ago. You remember Jessie Kegan?”
“Oh, I remember her. How could I forget a woman who was as big a pain in my ass as you were.”
Bran’s mouth edged up. “Ms. Kegan testified in Ray Cummings’s trial. She helped put him away. He was sentenced to ten years, but he’s out and making threats against her. I want to know what the fuck is going on.”
“Cummings is in Denver?”
“Broke into her apartment while she was out of town.”
“I’ll call you right back.”
Unable to sit still any longer, Bran got up and started pacing, moving from one side of the living room to the other. Which didn’t take long, considering how small it was.
His phone rang. He recognized Galen’s number and answered. “What?”
“Cummings’s lawyer managed to get him off on a technicality,” Galen said. “With the prisons so full, they were glad