Margaret Price - Wed To The Witness

Of all the atrocities I’ve seen during my sixty years on this green earth—and believe me, I’ve seen plenty!—having my nephew, Jackson Colton, stand accused for my attempted murder has to top them all. The case those dim-witted boys in blue have against Jackson is purely circumstantial. Don’t they see that they are wasting valuable time with these trumped-up charges when the real culprit is still out there? I’ll put a stop to this if it’s the last thing I ever do. Luckily, the star witness, Cheyenne James, is secretly sweet on my nephew and believes in his innocence. Those two put their heads—not to mention their lips!—together and figured out a way to beat the system by getting hitched. So Jackson’s clairvoyant bride won’t have to testify, and the case will surely crumble! Now it’s only a matter of time before those two soul mates fess up their true feelings and make a lifelong commitment….

KAREN HUGHES

enjoys writing about men and women who want to commit their lives to each other, share dreams and grow old together. She believes romance lives in everyday life and thinks there is a hero inside every man—he just needs the right woman to bring out his best qualities. Wide open spaces call to her, yet she also likes the bustle and convenience of city life. Experience has taught her that true love can be found anywhere. To research this action-packed thriller, the author drove the California coast and fell in love with the mist-swept, rocky shoreline.

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Meet the Coltons—

a California dynasty with a legacy of privilege and power.

Jackson Colton: Lawyer on trial. Falsely charged with Joe Colton’s attempted murder, this loner’s only defense is to wed the witness. But now that he’s legally bound to this dark beauty, he can only hope that the judge grants him a life sentence…to love!

Cheyenne James: Native American psychic. This counselor will do anything to stand up for her convictions—even if it means marrying a stranger who appears to have murder on his mind.

Thad Law: Man with a mission. Still assigned to the Colton case, this newly married detective smells something fishy. Could they have arrested the wrong man?

Patsy Colton: The manic matron. Masquerading as her sister Meredith, she’d thought she was on easy street, but now she’s getting cranky as her house of cards begins to tumble….

A special thanks goes to my former colleagues in the Crime Analysis Unit of the Oklahoma City Police Department.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Epilogue

Jackson Colton knew all about how cops operated. Although he practiced corporate law, he’d spent two summers during college interning in the Los Angeles County District Attorney’s office. He knew that, when fishing for suspects or talking to witnesses who might be less than truthful, the boys in blue preferred to conduct interviews on their own turf. Doing so tended to intimidate people and make them feel like they were a captive audience, whether they legally were or not.

By summoning him to the Prosperino Police Department, Jackson theorized that Detective Thaddeus Law had embarked on a world-class fishing expedition. Which was why he now sat across the scarred table from the sharp-eyed detective in a small interview room that smelled of cigarettes and sweat. The only thing Jackson hadn’t yet sorted out was why he was the fish Law had chosen to reel in.

Granted, he’d been at his Uncle Joe’s sixtieth birthday party nearly a year ago when someone took a shot at the Colton family patriarch. Nevertheless, hundreds of people had gathered in the courtyard of Hacienda de Alegria, where white doves soared, champagne flowed and exotic flowers floated in the bubbling fountain. Jackson knew that just his presence that night shouldn’t have put him in a suspicious light. Nor did Law have reason to view him as the guilty party simply because he’d again been at the Colton ranch four months ago when a second shot barely missed his uncle. Yet, for reasons unclear to Jackson, the detective had turned a suspicious eye his way.

“So,” Law said, leaning back in his chair. “Not one family member, staff person or guest at your uncle’s birthday party can verify your whereabouts at the time the shot was fired.”

Jackson regarded the cop. He had a small scar on his left cheek, a bump on his nose from where it had been broken and the bear-size build to knock anything out of his path without breaking stride. A formidable man, Jackson thought. One who obviously believed he had something on him or they wouldn’t now be sparring in the stale-smelling room with stark fluorescent lighting and a single pane of one-way glass.

Since Jackson knew he hadn’t tried to kill Joe Colton, Detective Law was headed for disappointment.

“I didn’t know at the time I would need someone to swear to my whereabouts every minute of the evening.” Jackson raised a shoulder. “So, I didn’t bother interrogating the hundreds of people at my uncle’s party. That was your job.”

“True. I’ve talked to a lot of those people lately. No one remembers seeing you at the exact moment the shot was fired.”

Jackson narrowed his eyes. “That was almost a year ago. Why are you suddenly asking people my whereabouts?”

“It’s my job to get a clear picture of the events that occurred,” Law said blandly, then glanced at the notepad on the table in front of him. “You say you’d cut across the courtyard, then took a shortcut through the service hallway to get to the bar. From the angle the slug hit the column behind your uncle, our ballistics expert figures that the shooter was standing a few feet from that hallway. Kind of a coincidence you were right there, too.”

“If you believe in coincidence, you’re the first cop I know who does.”

Law’s mouth curved. “I don’t. Do you remember seeing anyone on your way to the bar?”

“I saw a lot of people. The courtyard was packed.”

“What about after you reached the hallway?” Law persisted. “See anyone coming or going?”

Jackson slid a look at the tape recorder sitting beside Law’s notepad. During those summers he’d worked at the D.A.’s office he’d learned never to underestimate cops. Now that he knew where the shooter had stood, he realized Law’s seemingly harmless questions were designed to get his taped admission that he was in nearly the same location as the person who made the attempt on his uncle’s life.