Marie Ferrarella - Colton Baby Rescue

“I think I want to talk to her again and find out just how her necklace wound up under the wheel of that car,” Finn answered.

In order to talk to the woman again they were going to have to find her. Carson blew out a long breath, thinking.

“Maybe her father knows where she is,” he said, speculating. “Won’t hurt to talk to him. Man might be able to tell us something.”

Although, from what Bo had told him about Demi’s contentious relationship with her father, Carson highly doubted that Rusty Colton would be able to give them any viable insight into his daughter’s whereabouts.

But, Carson speculated, the old man might know something he didn’t know he knew. They had nothing to lose by questioning Rusty Colton.

At least they would be no worse off than they were now, Carson reasoned as they drove over to The Pour House.

* * *

The bar’s door was closed when they got there, but the lights were still on. Carson banged on it with his fist until Rusty Colton came to unlock it. The tall, skinny man had his ever-present mug of beer in his hand as he opened the door.

Bleary brown eyes quickly assessed the situation from beneath unruly reddish-brown hair.

“Sorry, boys, I’m just about to close up for the night,” Rusty said just before Carson pushed his way in. Taking a step back, the bar owner regrouped. “Okay then, I’ll have to limit you to just one round—although I just might see my way clear to staying open a little longer if you two boys are willing to pay extra.”

Small, beady eyes shifted from the chief to the detective. Rusty waited in anticipation to have his palm greased.

He waited in vain.

“We’re not here to drink, Mr. Colton,” Carson told the man coldly.

He’d never cared for the owner of The Pour House. There was something palatably unsavory about Rusty Colton. Carson had no doubt that the man would sell his own mother if he needed the money.

Annoyed, Rusty gestured toward the door. “Well then, ‘gentlemen,’ I need to get back to closing up my establishment,” he told them.

Neither of the men moved toward the door.

“We were wondering if you could tell us where your daughter is, Rusty,” Finn asked in a voice that said he wasn’t about to be trifled with. “Demi.”

Rusty snorted. “She’s a grown woman, Finn. She comes and goes as she pleases. Ungrateful whelp never did mind me,” he said, banging down his empty mug on the counter. “I can’t be expected to keep track of her.”

Carson moved in a little closer to the man. He wasn’t that much taller than Rusty, but he was a great deal more muscular and therefore more intimidating. “You keep track of everything when it suits you. Now, let’s try this again,” he said evenly. “Where’s Demi?”

“Well, if you must know,” Rusty said, smugly drawing out each word, “she’s gone. Long gone. I think you two apes probably scared her and she hightailed it out of here.”

That wasn’t good enough for him. “What makes you so sure?” Carson wanted to know. “Did she tell you?”

“Didn’t have to,” Rusty answered, pushing together several glasses on the counter in a half-hearted attempt to clean up. “I stopped by her place during my evening break—I leave Amos in charge then. He’s dumb, but nobody’s going to try to skip out on paying that big ox,” he informed the two men at the bar proudly.

“Get back to the point,” Finn ordered. “You stopped by Demi’s place and then what?”

“Well, she wasn’t home so I decided to dip into that big wad of cash she keeps under her mattress like I do every now and then—only when I need a little something to get me through to the end of the month,” Rusty admitted without a drop of embarrassment.

“Except that I couldn’t this time,” he complained. “It was gone. Guess the little witch must have taken it and hightailed it out of here.” He looked quite put out by his youngest daughter’s action. “Didn’t even think to leave me any, my own daughter,” he complained.

Carson exchanged looks with his boss. They weren’t going to get anything more out of Rusty.

“Let us know if she comes back,” Finn told the man as he walked out.

Rusty grunted something in response, but it was unintelligible and they’d already lost too much time, Carson reasoned, following the chief out.

“Warrant’s not going to do us any good right now,” Carson bit out, handing the paper back to Finn.

“I’ll put out an APB on her,” Finn said, striding back to his vehicle. “Maybe we’ll get lucky. In the meantime, have the team look into those people whose names you wrote down.”

Frustrated, Carson nodded as he got into the car. For now, at least it was a place to start.

* * *

Early the following morning, Carson stood by as the chief called a staff meeting of all the K-9 cops and gave them instructions. Articles of Demi’s clothing, got from her house, were handed out in order to give the dogs a scent to track.

Others on the force got busy looking into Bo’s past. The latter included interviewing women Bo had seen, exploring the various gambling debts he ran up and, since Bo had been an in-demand dog breeder who’d trained and sold dogs to people and organizations besides the police department, Carson started conducting a second background check on those people. Maybe there was a disgruntled client out for revenge and the situation had got out of hand for some reason.

It was time-consuming and grueling and it all ultimately led nowhere.

* * *

Serena Colton absolutely refused to buy into all the lurid hype surrounding her cousin Demi.

Here, tucked away in her private wing of her parents’ vast, prosperous Double C Ranch, the story of Bo Gage’s murder and how Demi C was found written in Gage’s own blood beside his body sounded like the fanciful imaginings of a second-rate scriptwriter. Except that Bo Gage was found murdered and Demi’s name did appear to be written next to his body.

“I don’t believe it,” Serena said to her three-month-old daughter, who was dozing in her arms. “There’s got to be another explanation for this, Lora. Sure, Demi has her shortcomings,” she readily admitted, “but she’s not a murderer.”

Serena sighed, gently rocking her daughter as she restlessly paced around the very large bedroom. “You take all the time in the world growing up, Lora, you hear me? Stay little for as long as you can. And I’ll do my part. I won’t let anything like this ever touch you,” she whispered to the sleeping child. “I’ll keep you safe, little one. I promise.”

As if to challenge the promise she had just made to her daughter, the sound of approaching sirens pierced the night air.

The sirens grew progressively louder, coming closer.

Worried, Serena moved to the window facing the front of the house and looked out. She was just in time to see the headlights from two police vehicles approaching the house—mansion, really—where she lived with her parents and younger sister, Valeria.

“What could the police possibly want here, and at this hour?” Serena murmured under her breath. Her brother Finn was the police chief and he wouldn’t be coming here like this unless there was something very, very wrong—would he? She couldn’t help wondering.

As if in response, Lora stirred in her arms. But mercifully, the baby went on sleeping. Although how she didn’t wake up with all this noise was a complete mystery to Serena. The sirens had gone silent, but in their wake came the loud, urgent pounding of a fist against the front door.

Her heart was instantly in her throat. The next second, she heard her parents and Valeria all rushing down the stairs to answer the door.

Still holding her daughter in her arms, Serena left her room and went to the landing, hoping to find what was going on from the shelter of the second floor.