Angi Morgan - The Marine's Last Defence

“I need to ask you a few questions, Miss Bowman.” He extended his hand to help her stand.

Sabrina had no choice. Because of her, Brenda Ellen had died. Perhaps she should be arrested and leave the investigating to professionals. She placed her cold fingers within his warm grip and stood. She didn’t want to go to jail. “I’m Bree.”

“Yeah, I remember.”

He kept hold of her hand, steadying her. Gone was the shyness, the awkward bit of flirtation from the diner. They stood there for several seconds until Dallas whimpered and pawed at her legs.

“Maybe we should go inside?” he asked.

“Can we? After that guy was there? I mean, don’t you need fingerprints or something? He killed Brenda Ellen.”

“Did you actually see someone?” He shoved into her hand some silver material that he’d used for a leash, then tugged her to the sidewalk, protectively pushing her a couple of feet behind a giant sycamore. She winced as the snow covered her feet.

“He pointed a gun at Joey out the door. The kitchen’s a wreck and you said someone killed her.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Didn’t you?”

“No.”

“But you found a body and Dallas was at the lake. There’s eggs and grease and a mess.” She wasn’t making sense and, from his curious expression, could tell he was confused.

“Did you actually see someone in the house?”

“Yes. He chased me outside and was going to shoot us, but then you got here.”

“What makes you think that? What did he look like?”

“I don’t know. He had a mask and a gun. I saw the gun.” Her hands shook. She hadn’t been this frightened since stabbing Griffin with a scalpel. “She never, ever eats fried food.”

“Ma’am, I’m having a hard time following. You aren’t making much sense. I didn’t find anyone inside, but I can check it out if you want to wait in the car.”

* * *

“HE KILLED HER, didn’t he?”

Bree Bowman was losing it and sort of melted onto the sidewalk along with the snow from the night before. He didn’t believe she’d actually fainted but it was close. Jake did the only thing he knew how to do...

He grabbed the leash and lifted Bree. She was a tiny thing, fitting easily into his arms. She was crying hard, and was half-frozen from being outside without a coat or shoes. Her tiny feet were a bluish color, waving in the air. His only option was the house. Crime scene or not.

The door banged half open again. He took a second to look this time at what it hit. He recognized the suitcase from the diner—so she was a house sitter, not only a dog walker. The bottom of the case was still wet, so she hadn’t been there long. She clung to the dog leash and Dallas pulled them a couple of steps forward. Jake whacked his hip on a drawer.

“I’m so sorry. I needed the meat mallet in case someone attacked.”

“Drop the leash, Bree.”

“I can’t.” She locked her arms around his neck, pulling herself closer. “She’ll run through the house, maybe destroy evidence. She’s certain to get into things and someone was here. They chased me.”

“I’ve got it. You can let go.” She searched his eyes and then let go as instructed.

When he set her on her feet, he kept an arm around her waist to steady her. Dallas continued to tug and beg to be free.

“What makes you think your boss didn’t just have an overnight guest who didn’t clean up after himself and maybe thought you were the intruder?”

“Brenda Ellen was scheduled to leave for Seattle yesterday. Her flight was canceled and she was rescheduled for eleven o’clock this morning,” Bree whispered. “She wouldn’t have left anything out of place. She never does.”

Jake searched the kitchen. It was immaculate compared to his apartment. “Look, even if someone was here earlier, they’re gone now.”

“How do you know they aren’t hiding? Where’d they go? All the doors are still closed. What if someone was with the man with the gun?”

“I checked out the perimeter and backyard.” He needed to follow procedure and begin from the beginning. But instead, he broke protocol and placed his hands on Bree’s shoulders, trying to reassure her it would be okay.

Great, he hadn’t even called the location into his partner or captain yet. If someone had been there, they were long gone. He had little hope of a BOLO. Bree inhaled and opened her mouth to speak again. He covered her parted lips with a finger. Her warm breath escaped, but she didn’t utter a sound.

“I’m going to call for backup. You’re going to stay here with Dallas. Try to keep her quiet. Nod if you understand?”

She barely moved. He wanted to dab her wet lashes and give her a long hug. Why? Maybe it was the sympathy he felt for the dog spilling over to this petite, caring woman. Or the way she’d giggled at him in the diner. He didn’t know and squashed the urge.

“One thing first. What did Brenda Ellen Richardson look like?”

“Dark brown hair, about my length, slender, average height.”

“What color were her eyes?”

“Were? She’s...then she is who you found at the lake. They’re brown.”

She described his murder victim. With his luck, he’d be destroying more evidence by searching the house, but he needed to secure it. He pulled his cell from its belt holster. “Wait here.”

Jake called for backup and moved methodically through the rest of the house. Once he was in the front room, he saw a picture of his murder victim, laughing with an older couple. Most likely her parents. And then another of her with a golden retriever. He called his partner, giving him the name and address, and hung up before the old goat could gripe at him for being inside the house.

The furniture was nice, no dust on the shelves, a variety of books in the hallway case. From his point of view, barely anything was out of place. Breakfast dishes, a drop of blood from slicing cheese and a cracked coffee table that could have happened when the dog ran through the house. It didn’t look like there’d been an intruder.

But he entered each room as if an AK-47 was on the opposite side of the door. He couldn’t help it. Old habits were hard to break. His last partner had laughed a couple of times, but it had quickly become a routine for them. Better safe than sorry.

A dress was lying on the bedspread—could have been worn Friday or laid out for today, he couldn’t tell. Two nice suitcases sat in the corner by the master bath, giving credence to Bree’s story.

The house was clear. His backup should be here in a few minutes. Time to get some information from his witness and get himself back on this case. He headed downstairs and Dallas greeted him halfway up. “So you got loose. Overanxious?”

He hooked his hand in the leash and spent a couple of minutes coaxing the pup to go with him.

“I need to ask you a couple of questions now.” He entered the kitchen, but his witness was no longer there. Gone, along with the coat and suitcase.

He’d fallen for her act, hook, line and sinker.

Chapter Four

“Dark hair, amethyst eyes, about five-three or -four. Looks a lot like the victim from the back. Nothing like her up close. Probably about twenty-five.” If Jake went into detail about the heart shape of her face, the petite bone structure or how he’d noticed the way her nose curved at the tip and had five distinct freckles, his partner would think him nuts. Or might believe Jake had let her go deliberately.

As it was, the razing hadn’t ceased since Detective Elton Owens had shown up to continue the investigation. More precisely, the murder investigation that didn’t involve Jake. Owens stood there, checking his notes, treating Jake like a suspect. Or worse, like a naive rookie.