The Sheriff's Baby
Author
Delores Fossen
Reads
15.0K
Chapters
16
When the mother of his unborn child is threatened, a lawman must match wits with a cunning killer. A frantic call for backup brings Sheriff Duncan Holder to the home of his pregnant ex, a deputy haunted by her father's unsolved murder. Now Joelle McCullough is the target of a kidnapping plot that's only the beginning. When the twisting trail to the truth erupts in violence, Duncan will do whatever it takes to keep Joelle and their unborn baby safe. Even if that means going up against a killer leaving a string of dead bodies who won't stop until a final revenge is carried out.
Chapter One
The sound instantly woke Deputy Joelle McCullough, but it took her a moment to realize it hadnât been part of the dream.
The nightmare.
There were no blasts of gunshots that had killed her father. No, this had been a clicking sound like that of someone shutting a vehicle door.
Rubbing her eyes to help her focus, Joelle checked her phone for the time. Just past 2:00 a.m., which meant it wasnât anywhere near a normal visiting hour. Added to that, she wasnât exactly on the beaten path since her house was a good mile outside of her hometown of Saddle Ridge with no other houses within sight of hers.
There were no texts from her three siblings or any of her friends. None either from anyone at the Saddle Ridge Sheriffâs Office where sheâd been a deputy for seven years now. So, no alerts from anyone she knew well enough to contact her before just showing up at her place, but it could be a neighbor coming to her for help.
Everyone in Saddle Ridge knew where she lived, knew that she was a cop. That meant this could be some kind of emergency that had warranted a face-to-face rather than a call or text.
She threw back the covers, immediately reaching for her Glock 22 that she kept on the nightstand. Grabbing her firearm when off duty hadnât always been her automatic response. Not until five months ago when her father had been gunned down at his home. Since then, things had changed.
Everything had changed.
And Joelle no longer trusted that a neighborâs emergencyâor whatever this wasâwouldnât end in gunfire. Her father hadnât been armed when heâd answered his door that night. He obviously hadnât been alarmed that whoever had come calling was there to kill him.
She couldnât make the same mistake.
It was the reason sheâd had a top-notch security system installed, and it was turned on and armed. If anyone attempted to get in through a door or window, the alarms would start blaring, and the security company and the sheriffâs office would be alerted. Most importantly, she would be alerted, and she could use her copâs training to put a stop to a threat.
Despite the urgency and worry building inside her, Joelle took her time getting out of bed. Sheâd learned the hard way that standing too quickly would make her lightheaded.
One of the side effects of being five months pregnant.
She ran her hand over her stomach, trying to soothe the babyâs sudden fluttering. Not hard kicks. Not yet, anyway. Just soft stirrings that reminded her of the precious cargo she was carrying. Reminding her again of why she couldnât risk whatâd happened to her father.
Once her heartbeat had steadied enough so that it was no longer thrumming in her ears, Joelle listened for any other sounds. Nothing except for the hum of the air conditioner and the spring breeze rattling through some of the tree branches outside her house.
She went to the front window and peered out, but it took her a moment to spot the vehicle. A black car that she didnât recognize. It was parked not in her driveway but off to the side beneath a pair of towering oaks. The headlights werenât on, and the door was indeed shut.
There was no sign of the driver.
Because of the angle of the parked car, Joelle couldnât see the license plates, and she didnât waste time figuring out what was going on. Not with every one of her copâs instincts now telling her that something was wrong. She stepped to the side of the window so that she wouldnât be seen or in the line of fire, and made a call to the Saddle Ridge dispatcher.
âThis is Deputy Joelle McCullough,â she said, keeping her voice at a whisper just in case the driver of that vehicle was close enough to hear her. âI need backup at my house.â
She wasnât sure who was on night duty at the sheriffâs office, but it wouldnât be her brother Slater. He was staying the night in San Antonio, a thirty-minute drive away, since he was on the schedule to testify at a trial. If Slater had been in town, she would have called him directly since he lived just up the road from her.
After sheâd done a thorough visual sweep of the front exterior of her house, Joelle went to her kitchen window to check the backyard. Thankfully, there was a full moon to give her some visibility, but there were also plenty of trees and shrubs dotting the five acres she owned. Lots of places for someone to hide if thatâs what a person wanted to do to try to get back at a cop.
She wasnât aware of anyone specifically who wanted to end her life or get revenge on her, but her fatherâs killer was still unknown and at large. Since no one was certain of the reason her dad had been gunned down, she might be on the killerâs hit list, too.
With her phone in her left hand and the Glock still gripped in her right, Joelle stayed positioned to the side of the kitchen window while she continued to watch and listen. Nothing.
And that in itself was troubling.
If this was someone she knew, they would have already come to the door or made themselves known. Added to that, the person would have parked in front of her house and not off to the side like that.
The minutes crawled by until Joelle saw the slash of headlights as they turned into her driveway. Backup, no doubt. She didnât breathe easier, though, because she needed to let the responding deputy know there was someone out there, maybe someone waiting to fire shots.
She hurried back to the front and silently cursed when she glanced out the front window and recognized the dark blue truck. Not a deputy but rather Sheriff Duncan Holder. Once, heâd been a fellow deputy but had been elected sheriff after her fatherâs death.
Duncan was also the father of her unborn child.
As always, she got a serious jolt of conflicted feelings whenever she laid eyes on Duncan. Memories. Heat. Guilt. Grief. A bundle of raw nerves mixed with the old attraction that Joelle wished wasnât there.
Because she didnât want Duncan or anyone else to be gunned down tonight, Joelle fired off a quick text to let him know about the unfamiliar black car and the out-of-sight driver. Duncan responded just seconds later with a thumbs-up emoji, and he pulled his truck into her yard and closer to her porch. He sat there for a few moments, still on his phone, and Joelle figured he was probably running the license plate on the visitorâs vehicle since heâd likely have a good view of the one on the rear of the car.
Duncan finally put his phone away and stepped from his truck, keeping cover behind the door while he fired glances around the yard. He, too, had his Glock drawn and ready.
Her heart did that stupid little flutter it always did whenever she was around him, and for the umpteenth time, Joelle wished she could make herself immune to him. Hard to do, though, with those unforgettable, heart-fluttering looks. The dark brown hair, blue eyes and a face that had no doubt gotten him plenty of lustful looks.
More seconds passed. Her heart raced. Adrenaline pumped through her. Her stomach tightened.
The gusts of wind sure didnât help, either, with her raw, edgy nerves. Those gusts kicked up, stirring seemingly everything at once, including an owl that sounded agitated by the noise. It was bad timing since the owlâs hoots and squawks could conceal any sounds her visitor might make.
Duncan finally moved away from his truck, coming up the porch steps, and that was her cue to use her phone app to disarm the security system and unlock the door. He stepped in and brought the scent of the fresh night air with him. His own scent, too, one she wished wasnât so familiar to her.
âYouâre not on shift,â she muttered, well aware that her tone wasnât exactly friendly.
âNo. I couldnât sleep so I went into the office to do some paperwork. I was there when you called. Have you seen anyone around that car or the house?â he tacked onto that.
He met her gaze for just a fraction. She was betting that he was also trying to make himself immune to her.
Joelle shook her head, locked the door and reset the security system. âI heard the car door shut about fifteen minutes ago. It woke me, and when I got up and didnât see anyone, I called dispatch.â Sheâd tried to make her voice steady, as if giving a report to her boss. Which she was. But it was hard to keep the emotion out of it.
Duncan glanced at her pale yellow gown that in no way concealed, well, anything. It was thin and snug enough to show the outline of her breasts and baby bump.
Yes, definitely hard to keep the emotion out of this.
âI ran the plates,â he told her. âThe vehicle belongs to Alton Martinez in San Antonio.â
She repeated the name to see if it rang any bells. It didnât. âDoes he have a record?â
âIâll know in the next couple of minutes.â Duncan stepped around her and went to the kitchen window to look out as sheâd done.
Heâd been in her house before but not in a while. Not since that night her father had died. In fact, Duncan had been here in her bed while her dad was being gunned down. Joelle knew she stood no chance of forgiving herself for that.
For years, Duncan and she had resisted the scalding attraction thatâd been between them. Theyâd believed resisting was a necessity since they were fellow deputies, working side by side in sometimes dangerous situations. They hadnât wanted to risk a failed relationship that could have interfered with them doing their jobs. Theyâd resisted time after time, year after year. Until that night of her fatherâs murder.
And itâd had disastrous consequences.
One good one, though, too.
Joelle hated she hadnât been with her father to try to stop his death, but she loved the baby she was carrying, and the pregnancy was the main reason she was managing to hold her life together. Duncan had helped some with the managing, too, by making sure they were on different shifts so she wouldnât have to see him that often. Thatâs why itâd been such a jolt to have him respond to her call for help.
âHave you gotten any recent threats that I donât know about?â Duncan asked, the question yanking her out of her thoughts and forcing her to focus on the here and now.
âNo. And I havenât made any recent arrests, either,â she added, even though as sheriff, he would have already known that.
Of course, it wouldnât have to be anything recent to continue to be a threat. Sometimes, when criminals got out of jail, they went looking for anyone whoâd had a part in their incarceration. No one immediately came to mind, though.
Duncanâs phone dinged, and he tore his attention from the window to read the text heâd just gotten. âMartinez doesnât have a record, but about four hours ago, he reported his car stolen.â
Joelleâs chest clenched, and another wave of adrenaline washed through her. She had steeled herself up for the worst, but sheâd hoped this would turn out to be nothing. The fact it was a stolen vehicle meant it was almost certainly something bad.
Staying on the other side of the window, she peered out, searching again for whatever sort of threat this might be. Her mind was having no trouble coming up with some awful scenarios. Especially one.
âBefore I went to bed, I accessed some internet newspaper articles on my fatherâs murder and my motherâs disappearance,â she told him.
No need for her to explain either of those incidents. Her father had been murdered, and on the same day, her mother, Sandra, had simply vanished. Both incidents had gutted her. Both had left her in desperate need of answers.
âI read any and every article connected to my parents,â Joelle added to let Duncan know that wasnât anything out of the norm. âIn one of them, a journalist mentioned that she was continuing to look into the murder and would post updates. I knew it was a long shot, that she probably didnât know anything we didnât, but in the comments, I asked if sheâd found anything.â
Duncan looked at her, their gazes connecting, and even in the dim light, she could see the sympathy in his eyes. Could practically hear the sigh that Joelle was certain he wanted to make.
âAnd you think...what...that your fatherâs killer saw the comment and believed that maybe he or she wanted to stop you from digging?â he asked. He still didnât sigh. Nor did he dismiss it. âI saw the article. Saw the comment you posted.â
Joelle figured she shouldnât have been surprised. Duncan felt guilty about her fatherâs murder, too, and he was a cop just as she was. This was a crime they both wanted solved, and that meant digging through any and all possible leads.
âItâs been five months,â Duncan went on a moment later. âIf the killer had planned on coming after one of us, youâd think that would have happened before now.â He paused. âBut the car was stolen, and the driver is nowhere in sight. So, Iâm not writing anything off right now.â
Good. Joelle had wanted him to take this seriously because she certainly was.
âWe can work this a couple of ways,â Duncan explained a moment later. âWe can wait for the driver to show himself, or I can go ahead and call in every available deputy. We can flood the grounds with headlights and maybe spook the person enough for him or her to come out.â
Joelle knew that no one in law enforcement wanted to be woken up at this hour, but her fellow cops, including the reserve deputies, would gladly come if they thought it meant catching her fatherâs killer. Every member of the Saddle Ridge Sheriffâs Office wanted justice for their former boss.
âBring in the deputies,â she advised. She glanced down at her gown again. âIâll hurry and change and then will keep watch at the front of the house.â
Duncan made a sound of agreement, and while she hurried to her bedroom, she heard him call dispatch who in turn would contact the deputies. Since a few of them lived only a mile or so away, it shouldnât take long for them to start arriving.
Joelle wanted to believe that the extra help would mean a killer could be captured tonight. A capture thatâd take place when she had plenty of backup so as to lessen the risk to her unborn child. But she had to stay grounded since this might not even be related to her fatherâs death or her motherâs disappearance.
Moving as fast as she could, Joelle pulled on a pair of maternity jeans, a loose top and her boots, and she hurried back into the living room. However, she came to a quick stop when she caught a whiff of something.
âSmoke,â she heard Duncan say from the kitchen.
This time, the adrenaline came as a hard slam. Because Duncan was right. There was the faint scent of smoke in the air.
Duncan came barreling out of the kitchen and toward the front. âI donât see any signs of a fire in the back,â he relayed to her as they both hurried to the living room window.
Joelleâs heart was thudding now, and the fear came. A fire could be a ploy to get them out of the house. Or rather to get her out of the house. So she could be gunned down. But she didnât see flames anywhere.
âThe scentâs coming from here,â Duncan muttered, glancing at the east wall of the living room.
The only windows on that particular side of the house were what was called clerestory, which meant they were above eye level and had been designed to let in natural light. That didnât stop Duncan. He dragged over a chair, anchoring it against the wall and hefted himself up to look out.
He cursed.
âThereâs a fire right next to your house,â he told her, causing her heart to race even more. âItâs already at least four feet high.â
The exterior was wood, and while Joelle hoped it wouldnât easily ignite, her visitor must have believed that would be the result. Either that, or he or she had wanted Duncan and her just to go running out.
Duncan made another call to dispatch, this time to alert the fire department. Something the person outside must have figured they would do. And that meant the seconds were ticking down. If Duncan and she waited until the firefighters arrived, the house could be engulfed in flames, putting them and the baby at risk. But the risk could be there if they ran, too.
âMy carâs in the garage,â she let him know.
The vehicle wasnât bullet resistant but then neither was Duncanâs truck, which was parked by her porch. Still, if they were in her car, at least they could try to drive out of there if the fire overtook the house.
Duncan made another of those sounds of agreement, and he took her keys from her when she scooped them up from the foyer table. That meant he was no doubt planning on being behind the wheel and that he would insist she get down. The cop part of her hated she had to make such concessions. However, the baby changed her priorities, and Joelle knew that both Duncan and she would do anything and everything possible to keep their child safe.
âI have to disarm the security system until weâre through the garage door,â she relayed to him, using her phone to do that. The moment they were inside her car, though, she reset the alarm.
In the distance, Joelle heard the welcome sound of a cruiserâs siren, but her relief over the backup was short-lived.
Because the next sound she heard was a blast.
Some kind of explosion roared through the house and garage, shaking the very foundation. Paint cans and gardening tools fell from the shelves and hooks, smashing onto the concrete floor. Each crash only escalated the urgency and fear.
So did the smoke.
The scent of it got much stronger, and Joelle could see whiffs of the smoke seeking beneath the mudroom door and into the garage. Thankfully, there was no smoke around the garage door itself, and that was likely the reason Duncan started the car and hit the remote on her visor to open the door.
âStay down,â he ordered her.
Joelle did. She strapped on her seat belt and sank down as low as she could. She also kept her gun ready in case she had to return fire.
Duncan threw the car into reverse and hit the accelerator, bolting out of the garage. Because of the way she was positioned, Joelle couldnât see the person responsible for the fire, but she had no doubts that Duncan was keeping watch.
The sirens got louder, and she saw the whirl of the blue lights slashing through the darkness. That would almost certainly get their attacker running. Or so she thought.
But she was wrong.
The bullet slammed into her windshield, crashing through the safety glass on the driverâs side. For a heart-stopping second, she thought that Duncan had been hit, but he pressed even harder on the accelerator and got the car out of her driveway and onto the country road that fronted her house. He stopped just as the cruiser pulled in next to them.
âItâs Luca,â Duncan told her, referring to Deputy Luca Vanetti. âText him and tell him to stay put until the others arrive. We have an active shooter. Tell him to let the other deputies know.â
Joelle fired off a quick text, then braced herself for another shot. Or an explosion. Her house was burning, she was sure of that, but she couldnât deal with the sickening dread of losing her home and everything she owned. For now, she just had to focus on staying alive, and then she could figure out who was doing this.
And why.
She especially wanted to know the why in case that led her to her fatherâs killer.
There was the sound of another siren. More whirling lights. Two more vehicles arriving on scene. What didnât happen was another round of gunfire, which meant the shooter was likely already on the run. Joelle prayed, though, that someone would spot the person.
Because she was so focused on listening for their attacker, Joelle gasped when the sound shot through the car. But it wasnât a bullet. It was her phone, and Joelle saw a familiar name on the screen. Molly Radel, a former deputy whoâd transferred to working as a dispatcher after she got pregnant. Even though Molly was on leave, awaiting the birth of her baby, it was possible sheâd been called in to assist in some way.
âMolly,â Joelle answered, and she was about to give the woman a quick explanation as to what was going on, but Molly spoke before Joelle could do that.
âYou have to help me,â Molly said, her voice trembling and frantic. âSomeoneâs breaking into my house.â
The words had no sooner left Mollyâs mouth when Joelle heard the woman scream.
