Colton's Covert Witness
Autore
Addison Fox
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HarlequinChapter 1
Evangeline Whittaker stared down the main street of Grave Gulch, Michigan, and wondered when the whole world had gone sideways. Although her eyes were protected from the early-evening sun by oversize sunglasses and a floppy hat, no amount of shielding her gaze could stop what she saw through the lenses.
The citizens of Grave Gulch, now protesting outside the city’s police department—a common sight over the past few months, due to an increase in local crime—with signs and heavy shouting, eerily audible even though she was several blocks away.
Protesting...and the subtle yet unrelenting pressure from the knowledge that a killer was in their midst.
Although the GGPD was doing its job, people were fed up and anxious by the latest details pouring out of the news cycle. Only, instead of the news showing a random family dealing with a bad situation in a faraway place, this time, it was local. As local as you could get, Evangeline admitted to herself as she stepped aside to allow a couple to walk past her on the sidewalk.
There had been three dead bodies discovered in Grave Gulch in a matter of six months. All found with a gunshot to the chest and all seemingly random until you searched beneath the surface.
But once you looked below, it was easy to see the similarities, Evangeline thought on a hard shudder.
All male. All shot while alone walking their dogs. All in their fifties.
Enough similarities that the GGPD had been forced to admit the one thing that was guaranteed to send people into a panic: Grave Gulch had a serial killer on its hands.
Add on the trauma of discovering a well-loved grandmother, Hannah McPherson, was a toddler kidnapper, the GGPD’s lead forensic scientist, Randall Bowe was assisting criminals he deemed “worthy,” and the discovery and subsequent takedown of a drug kingpin running his business in town, and all of Grave Gulch’s residents were scared. The fear either they or a loved one would be next on a killer’s list swirling deeply beneath it all.
Hadn’t she felt the same sense of concern? Sure, she might be eternally single, but she had a family. And while her mother was quick to lock up good and tight each night, her father often had a mind of his own when it came to how he wanted to live his life. Or worse, his unique brand of screaming obstinacy whenever he felt the world around him wasn’t bowing to his wishes.
A persistent worry, the two of them, but one she couldn’t overly concern herself with now. She had enough to contend with on her own. Forced leave from her job. That doggedly odd sense that she was being watched—even in her own home—that hadn’t let up in weeks. When you added on the mess that was currently the Grave Gulch County DA’s office—one she’d managed to find herself smack in the middle of—life was on an out-of-control roller coaster at the moment.
How had it happened so quickly?
She’d spent well over a dozen years in the district attorney’s office, keeping her head down and doing her job. Doing it damn well, as a matter of fact. Yet somehow, she’d failed to see a problem right in front of her face.
And now she had tangible responsibility for a serial killer out on the streets and preying on innocents.
Evangeline had spent innumerable sessions with her therapist over the years, dealing with the ever-present twin feelings of despair and responsibility. She’d worked long and hard to ensure that those feelings, a leftover gift from her father’s parenting failures, didn’t veer into her professional life.
But there was no help for it now.
Three people were dead and a killer was on the loose because she’d not properly prosecuted him. Not on purpose—she let out a frustrated breath—but still on her watch.
On her work.
Damn Randall Bowe and his mishandled—and criminal—approach to evidence keeping. And damn her for not digging harder.
Round and round she went, on the endless circle of arguments in her mind. Yes, the GGPD’s forensic scientist had often tampered with evidence or flat-out overlooked it, but as a prosecutor she shouldn’t have simply assumed a GGPD employee was acting in good faith.
Yet she had.
The blowback had been awful. The cases where she’d used Bowe’s evidence—or lack thereof—as part of her legal argument had put them all in this mess. Even worse, she’d failed her boss, Arielle Parks. Arielle was both mentor and friend and it was an endless source of embarrassment and pain to Evangeline that her mistakes reflected so poorly on the district attorney.
And underneath the roiling thoughts in her mind was a bigger one. The lone thought she never seemed able to get past.
How could the world be full of so many awful people?
At this stage of her life, she should know the answer. She’d learned the lesson young, hadn’t she? So, in a lot of ways, it should have stuck by now. Yet it hadn’t. She lived a life steeped in reason and lawfulness and it still amazed her how many people saw the world as a place to get away with things.
A place to take their anger out on others.
Or selfishly reap whatever benefit they could derive for themselves, no matter the cost to others.
On another hard sigh, Evangeline blew out a breath. Maudlin much?
She’d come out because her condo had begun to feel stifling and, at those persistently odd moments, creepy. She couldn’t explain it, but even in the confines of her own home, she’d been aware of a relentless sense of being watched.
She’d sensed it for about a month, the feeling growing stronger by the day. At first it was just a fleeting sense, that someone caught her eye too long on the street or a strange sense someone was lingering in the parking lot of her condo complex, even if she couldn’t define why she felt that way.
But it had grown worse.
A persistent scraping at the base of her neck, rippling the nerves to her scalp, had become a regular occurrence.
She’d initially blamed it on the pressure at work, the mishandled evidence causing any number of errors in her caseload. Finally, though, Evangeline had had enough of sitting home feeling stuck and decided to head out for a bit of fresh air and some dinner. Yet as she walked, watching the people and trying to appreciate some of the early summer warmth, the fresh evening air wasn’t doing much for her mood. That strange sixth sense continued to crawl up and down her spine.
A feeling that had done nothing for her already dour mood.
It was early June, which meant the days were getting longer and longer. And here she was, the space between her morose thoughts getting smaller and smaller so all she focused on was her mistakes. She’d left her home because she needed dinner and a reprieve from the increasing claustrophobia induced by her own four walls, but she’d find no break if all she did was keep covering the same ground over and over in her mind.
With a glance at one end of the street at the protesters, Evangeline turned and headed the opposite direction. She briefly toyed with the idea of going to sit down and have a bite at Mae’s Diner, but the last few times she’d gone out, someone had inevitably recognized her from the news. Something dark and uncomfortably swirly had settled in her thoughts today and she didn’t want to risk adding to her bad mood. A slice at Paola’s Pizza would be the better bet. Hot, gooey dough and cheese was always a mood lifter, and the entire transaction at the counter would take no more than five minutes, ten tops.
She might have to head back to the glum quiet of her condo but at least she’d have pizza.
As she headed in the direction of the restaurant, that strange sense skittered over her once more. It was subtle and if she weren’t so on edge she’d likely have ignored it, but was it possible she was being watched?
The public had recently made no secret of its disdain for the DA’s office, and while she believed she’d acted in the best interests of the residents of Grave Gulch County, that didn’t mean everyone saw it that way. She and her colleagues received threats from time to time. It was unpleasant, but it was a part of the job.
Evangeline crossed the last block for Paola’s, once again trying to shake off the miserable mood. Pizza. Pizza, she kept reminding herself as she put one foot in front of the other.
It was only as she crossed the last alleyway before the row of storefronts that led to Paola’s that something caught Evangeline’s attention in the distance. Two people, struggling at the end of the alleyway. The fading summer sun backlit them both so that Evangeline couldn’t clearly make out their faces, just snatches of their features as they fought.
Downturned, angry mouths as they shouted.
Slashed eyebrows.
Waving hands.
What she could clearly see was the larger form of the man struggling to hold the arms of the smaller, slender figure—a woman, dressed in a white blouse and dark slacks.
An urgent need to help rose up inside of her and she’d nearly started toward them when the distinct shape of a gun filled the man’s hand. Before Evangeline could utter a word or even gurgle the start of a scream, the unmistakable sound of a gunshot rang out.
From where she stood she could see the clear stain of red spread across the white blouse, just before the small woman fell to the ground in a heap.
Rooted to the spot, Evangeline stared down the mouth of the alley in horror at what she’d just witnessed. An overwhelming urge to help warred with an innate sense of self-preservation.
It was only when that large, still-faceless figure turned toward the woman on the ground and lifted her by her feet, dragging her through the alley, that Evangeline pushed herself into motion.
Digging into her oversize bag, she fumbled through the endless depths until she finally got a grip on her cell phone. Hands shaking, she ran back in the direction of the protesters she’d seen earlier. What had felt menacing a little while ago now seemed like a haven of humanity. Scores of people who could help her and keep her safe from the dark, faceless threat at the end of that alleyway.
She clumsily fingered the screen of her phone, whose face remained locked no matter how many times she tried to swipe and enter her password. It was only as the comforting sound of voices grew louder that she finally managed to get her phone open.
With the desperate hope that she wasn’t too late, she jabbed 911 into the phone and tried to summon up a calm she didn’t feel.
“Nine-one-one. What’s your emergency?”
As the operator’s voice flowed through the line, Evangeline wondered if she would ever find that calm again.
Detective Troy Colton listened to the dispatch coming over the loudspeaker in the conference room where he and a fellow detective, Brett Shea, had holed up for a work session. As he comprehended the urgency of the summons, he tossed his pen onto the table. The move offered no comfort, but the endless screaming outside the Grave Gulch Police Department had grown tedious in the extreme and his patience had increasingly waned as the afternoon wore into evening.
And now they had a witness claiming someone was shot in an alley downtown?
He stood and pulled on his sport coat over his weapon harness. Brett had already snapped to attention, along with his K-9, Ember. The black Lab was a tracking specialist. She’d come to full alert and moved to stand beside Brett in the span of a heartbeat, despite Troy’s previous assessment that she’d been fast asleep in the corner of the conference room.
“Let’s swing by and ask Mary if she has any other details.” Brett was already nodding as he and Ember followed Troy to the door. “We’ll have her notify Melissa, as well.”
The GGPD’s front desk clerk was young but her sweet face and endless excitement at being a newlywed didn’t diminish her ability to be both serious and on her game at every minute. “Detective Colton,” Mary Suzuki addressed Troy as he and Brett walked up. “Dispatch is still on the line. Should I patch them through?”
“Sure.” Troy nodded. “And get Melissa on this, as well. I know it’s the chief’s day off and she’s earned every bit of it, but she’s going to want to know something’s going on. I’ll call her after Brett and I figure out what’s happened.”
He loved his cousin Melissa and respected her implicitly as the head of the GGPD. He’d never keep her in the dark, but it killed him to think that all her years of hard work couldn’t even give her a reprieve on a night off with her fiancé, Antonio Ruiz.
“It’s the job, Troy,” she’d say back to him. He could already hear her voice, threaded through with responsibility, thrumming in his head.
But he still hated to ruin her evening.
Wasn’t that why he and Brett had volunteered to take the late shift? The entire department had been working tirelessly to get serial killer Len Davison off the streets. He and Brett figured they’d tag-team it and see if they could spark any questions between them that might push them all in a new direction.
Mary watched him with alert eyes as he took in the details from the 911 operator. A female caller had seen another woman shot in one of the alley entrances in downtown Grave Gulch. He shifted the phone back to Mary, instructing her to stay on the line as he and Brett headed out. The affirmation from the operator that an ambulance was en route rang in his ears.
“It’ll be faster there on our own two feet,” Troy said as he headed for the exit. “But we need the cruiser.”
He knew it was the best choice, especially if they needed to give chase. But the time it would take to get through the melee outside the precinct and into town would cost precious seconds a shooting victim didn’t have.
Brett nodded. “Let’s go.”
Troy ignored the protesters as they ran for their vehicle. He well knew the reality of how badly the woman shot in an alley needed them. And if the thought of an innocent person lying in a pool of blood set off an unpleasant string of images of his own mother, he’d just have to push them down.
He and his sister had been much too young to have actually seen the evidence of Amanda Colton’s murder. It was only years later, as a GGPD rookie cop, that he’d had access to the crime scene photos. They were painful, but a confirmation that finally put to bed what had lived in his imagination since childhood. Even with that terrible reality, his mother’s sudden and violent death was a constant presence in his mind. It drove him to enter law enforcement, and he knew it did the same for all of his Colton family members in the field, as well. Sometimes bad things happened. And even worse, there were times when the bad person who did those things was never caught.
The cop lived with the cautionary tale.
The son lived with the painful reality that was his life.
Evangeline paced the sidewalk, still on the phone with the 911 dispatcher. The voice on the line was soothing and calm, but Evangeline felt neither. All she could do was stare down the mouth of the alley, imagining the dead body lying just beyond view.
She’d suggested that she go down to check for a pulse but the dispatcher had remained adamant that the police were on their way. Evangeline should remain in place or, even better, seek shelter in a nearby shop. The operator had already scolded her for leaving the sea of people farther down the sidewalk and cautioned Evangeline against going anywhere near the crime scene. A terrible sense of cowardice filled her, even as she knew the reality of the situation and the logic in the dispatcher’s orders.
The victim had taken a gunshot at close range and likely hadn’t survived, she knew. Add on that Evangeline had no medical training to help, and she had to face the bigger risk that the woman’s assailant was still there, trapped in the alley and waiting to make his move to escape.
“Police are in range,” the other woman reassured her just as the sight of two men and a K-9 came into view.
Evangeline had lived in Grave Gulch for most of her life and recognized one of the cops on sight. She’d known Detective Troy Colton for years, even though they’d only spoken a handful of times and then only in relation to cases Evangeline was prosecuting.
But oh, goodness, the man was a looker.
Tall and broad, he moved with purpose. He was fit and competent, his large frame as impressive for the solid, muscular build as the kind-hearted soul who lived inside. His eyes were a tawny, golden hazel that had the ability to actually weaken her knees and his skin was a warm brown.
Yes, she’d always had a bit of a crush on Troy. But what were the odds he’d be the one to show up here in her moment of horror and need?
“Police are on scene,” Evangeline relayed to the dispatcher. “I’m going to hang up now.”
The operator seemed inclined to argue but Evangeline cut the connection before she could be persuaded otherwise. The adrenaline that had pumped so fiercely through her system hit another uptick as she waved on the men now running toward her. “There! Down the alley. Hurry, please!”
“Stay here, ma’am,” a man she didn’t recognize ordered her as he and his dog raced down the alley.
“Please stay here, Evangeline,” Troy said, no less urgently, even as he slowed. “Don’t follow us.”
“The killer might still be down there.”
“All the more reason for you to stay put.”
Troy was already off, following the other cop, so that all she could do was holler at his back. “Be careful!”
A quiet voice brought Evangeline back to the moment, even as her gaze still lingered on Troy’s retreating back. “Sweetie, are you all right?”
She turned to find an older, kindly-looking woman. The stick holding her protest sign was dangling from her hand, and her eyes were full of concern. “I couldn’t help but overhear you mention a killer. What’s going on?”
Although Evangeline saw nothing but support and help in the woman’s rheumy blue gaze, she eyed the sign warily. As an officer of the law, she believed deeply in the right to protest in peaceable assembly. As one of the objects of those protests, however, she found her inherently broadminded nature wavering.
“Um, I needed some help.”
“You said ‘killer.’”
“It’s—” She broke off, struggling for the right words. “I thought I saw something. The police are investigating.”
“Willie!” The older woman hollered to someone across the street, waving the man over with her free hand. “Get over here!”
Whatever kindness Evangeline believed she’d seen in the woman was nowhere in evidence. Instead, she saw the obvious thrill of being in the thick of things coupled with an already heightened sense of purpose that had brought her into the streets in the first place.
“Get Evan and Sally, too!” she added before the man had a chance to cross the street.
The dispatcher’s words echoed around in her mind, warning her to keep her distance, while this person dragged more innocent, vulnerable people closer to the threat.
“What are you doing?”
“If a killer’s on the loose, you can be damn sure I want a front seat to his arrest.”
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