Colton Baby Rescue. Marie Ferrarella
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Название: Colton Baby Rescue
Автор: Marie Ferrarella
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Вестерны
isbn: 9781474081955
isbn:
Bo had made his living breeding the dogs for the police department as well as for other clients. Darby had been part of that business until the divorce and even now, one of her part-time jobs was cleaning the kennels at the training center.
In Carson’s experience, German shepherds were exceedingly sensitive when it came to certain character traits and if Darby had somehow been involved in Bo’s murder, maybe the dog would pick up on that.
But Justice’s response to his former trainer’s ex seemed favorable. So much so that when Darby absently stroked the top of the dog’s head, Justice wagged his tail.
Taking that into account, Carson still pushed on. “Where were you around 6:30 p.m. the night Bo was killed?” he asked Darby. Then, realizing the waitress might play dumb about the date, he started to add, “That was on—”
“I know when Bo was killed,” Darby said, cutting him off. “I was just leaving the kennels after cleaning up at the training center.”
Technically, he already knew that because he had got her schedule by calling the places where she worked. But he wanted to hear what she had to say. “Anyone see you?”
“Other than the dogs?” she asked.
He couldn’t tell by Darby’s expression if she was being sarcastic or just weary. Given that Bo had put her through the wringer and was the reason why she had to hold down all these various jobs just to keep a roof over her head, for now he let the remark slide.
“Yes, other than the dogs.”
She thought for a moment. “I think one of the handlers, Jessop, was still there. He might have seen me. To be honest, I didn’t think I’d need an alibi so I didn’t make a point of having someone see me leave.” And then she suddenly remembered. “There’s a time card I punched out. That should be proof enough for you.”
He knew that there were ways to manipulate a time card. But since, in his opinion, Darby wasn’t the type who could even hurt a fly, he nodded and said, “Yes, it should.” Getting up from the table, he dug into his pocket and took out five dollars. He put it down on the table. “Thanks for your time, Darby. I’ll get back to you if I have any other questions.”
Darby picked up the five dollar bill and held it up for him to take back. “You can’t leave a big tip, you didn’t buy anything,” she pointed out.
Carson made no attempt to take the money from her. “I took up your time,” Carson answered.
With that he and Justice left the diner.
Bo hadn’t done right by Darby.
That was the thought that was preying on Carson’s mind as he drove away from the diner.
They might have been brothers, but he was aware of all of Bo’s shortcomings. His older brother had always been the typical playboy: self-centered and careless with anyone else’s feelings. He was making good money with his German shepherd–breeding service and could have seen to it that Darby had got a better settlement in the divorce—at least enough so that she wasn’t forced to take on so many part-time, menial jobs in order to keep a roof over her head.
But Bo’s lawyer had been a good deal sharper than the lawyer Darby had been able to afford to represent her, so Bo had wound up keeping almost everything. He got the house, the business and most of the bank accounts, while Darby had clearly got the very short end of the stick.
In his opinion, the ultimate humiliation was when Bo had tossed her that crumb by letting her earn extra money cleaning out the kennels at his breeding operation.
If his brother hadn’t written Demi C on the pavement with his blood, Carson might have looked a little more closely at Darby as a possible suspect in Bo’s murder. He certainly couldn’t have blamed her for being bitter about the treatment she’d received at Bo’s hands both before and after the divorce.
But Darby hadn’t seemed bitter to him, just closed off. And decidedly weary.
She probably wasn’t getting enough sleep, given the various conflicting schedules of the jobs she held down, Carson thought.
“What do you think, Justice?” Carson asked the dog riding in the passenger seat beside him. “You think Darby might have got fed up and decided to teach Bo a lesson for treating her so shabbily?”
Justice barked in response to hearing his name and Carson laughed.
“That’s what I thought. You like her, don’t you, boy? Back to Demi, then,” Carson agreed.
About to drive back to the station, Carson abruptly changed his mind as well as his direction.
He was heading back to the Double C Ranch.
Something had been bothering him about Serena Colton’s testimony. Why was she so convinced that Demi hadn’t killed his brother despite what could be considered a deathbed testimony? Why was she so certain that her cousin wasn’t capable of killing someone even though everyone knew the bounty hunter had a bad temper.
He’d once seen Demi take down a man at The Pour House who was twice her size and obviously stronger than she was. Thin and wiry, the woman was nonetheless a virtual powerhouse. Ever since that day, he’d regarded Demi as being rather lethal.
Given that and her unpredictable temper, he’d never thought it was a good idea for his brother to have taken up with her. Demi Colton wasn’t the type of woman to put up with being treated the way Bo obviously treated women he was no longer interested in seeing exclusively.
Carson couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something that Serena had held back last night when he’d questioned her.
He had no idea if that “something” was significant or inconsequential, but he knew it was going to keep eating away at him until he found out exactly what it was that Serena wasn’t telling him. He might as well get this out of the way before he followed up on some of Bo’s business dealings and talked to the women he’d romanced and discarded.
* * *
When he arrived at the Double C mansion, Carson debated leaving Justice in his car when he went in. After all, it was January and if he left the windows partially opened, the dog would be all right. However, he regarded Justice as his partner and under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t have left his partner just sitting in the car, twiddling his thumbs while he went in to reinterview someone connected to a case.
“You’re on your best behavior, boy,” he instructed, taking the leash as Justice jumped down out of the passenger seat.
Alma, the housekeeper who opened the front door when he rang the bell, looked far from happy to see him. The older woman cast a wary eye in Justice’s direction.
“I’m sorry, Detective. Mr. and Mrs. Colton are not in,” she informed him formally.
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