His Texas Touch

“Can you pin the other murders on Arroyo?”

Brad looked uneasy then. “None of this goes past this room.” His stony expression brooked no argument.

Sam only spread his hands, silently implying that he knew that better than anyone.

“Hell—” Brad threw up a wave “—this thing’s got me edgier than a deer in headlights. Whole thing’s a mess.” He pushed out of the chair he’d occupied and stalked the spacious scope of Sam’s office. “The leads we think we have all tend to crisscross and fizzle. We got absolutely nothin’ to go on ’cept an address no map or GPS can locate.”

Sam was back to massaging his jaw as he considered all the detective shared.

“Truth is—” Brad sighed “—we can only pin two of the murders on Arroyo—he was sloppy. Aside from the evidence we recovered, those murders pointed to him because they were so similar. The others…” Brad studied the stitching in the brim of the hat. “Once you toss in the similarities with the vics, nothin’ else seemed to fit.”

Sam frowned. “What the hell does that mean?”

“That either Arroyo switched up his style from sloppy to smart for three of the murders or there’s a second killer.”

The silence that settled then was only interrupted by the shrill ring of Brad’s cell. Less than a minute later, he was making his way out of the office.

Sam remained seated on the corner of his desk, deep in thought.

* * *

“Surprised to see you here, man,” Luc Anton greeted once he’d knocked on Danilo’s office door and strolled inside.

Dan shrugged, barely looking up from the papers he shuffled. “Important for the staff to be reassured given what’s happened.” He stopped with the papers and clenched his fists. “Tino’s death… It’s a huge loss.”

“And I commend your courage for being here,” Luc noted; his voice was soft yet the subtle hint of curiosity was there.

Dan heard it and smiled as he returned to sit behind his desk. “Say what you came to say.”

“What? I’m commending—”

“Luc.”

“Tino’s death could open up a can of worms wide enough to swallow us.”

“Martino Viejo was a good worker.”

Luc’s brow creased, adding more wrinkles to his weather-beaten skin. “And you think that means he didn’t keep certain reminders of earlier times? Let’s not forget that was how he rose so high.”

“He would’ve never resorted to blackmail,” Dan snapped.

“Are you serious? Or are you getting Martino Viejo confused with the staff or your sons who think the sun rises and sets with you?” Luc spat a soft, vicious curse. “You’re a fool if you think the cops won’t find something while investigating that kid’s murder—something that could put us all in trouble.” He raised a finger. “You need to get in front of this before it’s too late.”

Dan’s pitch stare narrowed. “That a threat, Lucas?”

“It’s a fact, old friend.” With those words, Luc left the room.

* * *

“He called in all the reporters?” Avra was asking Khouri when they stepped into the main meeting room at Ross Review.

The area was filled to capacity with writers, editors and anyone else even remotely involved with the department. Khouri and Avra found two seats close together but not in the same row. There were hushed, indecipherable conversations. Someone complained about there not being more coffee at the buffet that had been set up along a far wall. Shortly afterward a door slammed and all heads turned to Basil Ross, who had just entered.

Avra turned in her seat to look at Khouri, who simply grimaced and shook his head. They both knew the look their father wore. Basil Ross was not a happy man.

“I’ll make this quick,” Basil said just after claiming his spot standing behind the long table at the front of the room.

“All research and reporting on the MM murders is to stop at once.”

Conversation filled the room once again in a barreling wave. Questions flew from all corners and at varying decibels.

“Why?”

“Why now?”

“We got so much uncovered, sir!”

“Working on the MM story now constitutes a firing offence.”

Basil’s announcement fueled more conversation but at a much softer volume.

“Questions?” he asked, eyeing the crowd speculatively.

No raised hands emerged.

“Very well.”

Conversation returned to its deafening volume once Basil exited the room. Everyone was on their feet, except for Avra.

Chapter 3

Avra checked her wristwatch. James Purdy was always ready and waiting with her car door open and engine idling when she called down to let him know she was on her way out. Unless the man was sick, which didn’t happen often, he was at his post.

That day, however, her car door wasn’t open and the engine wasn’t idling. In fact, the Lexus coupe wasn’t there at all. James Purdy stood just outside the entrance to the parking staff office. He appeared to be in fine health and spirits as he talked, laughed and shared a bag of potato chips with Sam Melendez. When James caught sight of Avra, though, he straightened from his leaning stance along the brick wall leading into the parking deck.

“Afternoon, Miss A.” James tipped the brim of his navy blue cap.

“James.” She cast a pointed look across her shoulder. “This is a first. Should I pick my car up someplace else?”

“Oh, uh…” Uncertainty crept into the man’s kind dark eyes as though he were slowly realizing something was amiss. “Well, Mr. M. …” He glanced back at Samson. “He said you wouldn’t be needing it tonight.”

“Oh, did he?” The expression Avra turned on Sam was nowhere near as polite as the one she’d given James.

Sam brushed crumbs from his hands while bracing off the wall. “Thanks for the chips, Jay.” He pressed the nearly empty bag to James’s chest as he walked past to take Avra’s upper arm.

“Ah, ah, ah…” he urged when she stiffened in response to his thumb brushing the bare flesh beneath the cap sleeve of her blouse. “Don’t make a scene now.”

“What do you think you’re doing?” Avra’s voice was as tight as the phony smile she wore for James’s benefit while Sam escorted her from the parking deck to the smaller lot, which sat catty-corner from the