Cold Case in Cherokee Crossing

She was shy around men, reluctant to trust. Cautious about letting anyone in her life because once they heard her story, they usually ran.

A photo of Hank at fourteen, the day of the arrest, flashed on the screen, then a photo of him now. He was thirty-four. Not a teenager but a man.

His once thin, freckled face had filled out; his nose was crooked as if it had been broken. And he’d beefed up, added muscles to his lanky frame.

There were scars on his face that hadn’t been there before, a long jagged one along his temple. But the scars in his eyes were the ones that made her lungs strain for air.

Still, he was that young boy who’d stepped in front of her and taken blows for her when Wade was drinking. Who’d sneaked her food when Wade was on one of his rampages and she was hiding in the shed out back to escape his wrath.

Hank had spent his life in jail for what he’d done. For taking away the monster who’d made her young life hell.

She should have told.

Although the therapist had assured her it wouldn’t have mattered, that the number of stab wounds alone indicated Hank suffered from extreme rage and was a danger to society.

But Hank had killed Wade in self-defense. And Wade had deserved to die.

Still, her brother would be put to death in just a few days. It wasn’t fair.

She looked outside the window at the dusty road and woods. The prison was only an hour from Cherokee Crossing. Subconsciously she must have chosen to settle back here because she’d be close to Hank.

Or maybe because she’d needed to confront her demons so she could move on.

Just like she had to see Hank before he died and thank him for saving her life.

* * *

TEXAS RANGER JAXON WARD took a seat in the office of Director Landers, his nerves on edge. He’d just gotten off a case and his adrenaline was still running high. Beating the suspect the way he had done could get him kicked off the job.

Hell, he didn’t care.

He was ready to hang up his badge anyway. Maybe open his own P.I. agency. Then he wouldn’t have to play by the rules.

“You asked to see me?”

“Yes, I’ve decided to grant your request to work the domestic-violence team.”

Jaxon tried not to react. The director knew his background, that he’d grown up in the system and that domestic violence was personal for him.

In fact, it had been a strike against him. The director had expressed concerns that Jaxon might allow his own experiences, and his anger, to cloud his judgment, and that he’d end up taking his personal feelings out on the alleged abusers.

The director had good reason to worry.

Today was the perfect example. When he’d seen Horace Mumford go after his kid with a wood board, Jaxon had taken the board to him.

“Thank you, sir.” Jaxon stood, waiting on the reprimand.

But it never came. Instead the director cleared his throat. “Your first assignment is to make sure the Tierney execution goes forward.”

Jaxon frowned. “I didn’t realize there was a problem.”

Director Landers ran a hand over his balding head. “Some young do-gooder attorney wanting to make a name for herself is trying to get a stay and a retrial.”

Jaxon had seen the recent protests against the execution in the news. Not unusual with death row cases.

“Go talk to Tierney. Make sure everything stays on track.”

Jaxon’s gut tightened with an uneasy feeling. “Why the interest?” According to the news, the guy was only a teenager when he murdered his foster father. And he’d been railroaded into a confession.

“Because that case was one of the first ones I worked when I was a young cop. It built my career.”

Now Jaxon understood. The director was worried about his damn job, not whether or not a man was innocent.

“Wipe that scowl off your face. I didn’t screw up. Hank Tierney was as guilty as his father was of murder,” Director Landers said. “The kid was caught with the bloody knife in hand, blood splattered all over him. Hell, even his sister said he stabbed Mulligan.”

“Fine. I’ll go talk to him myself.” He’d also ask about his motive. He didn’t remember that being reported, only that the police thought the kid was violent and dangerous.

Director Landers gave him a warning look. “Listen, Ward, I know your history, so don’t go making this kid out to be some hero or I’ll can your ass. Your job is to make sure that case does not go back for a retrial. If it does, it could affect all the cases I worked after that.”

That would be a nightmare.

Still, Jaxon silently cursed as he walked out of the office. Was this some kind of test to see if he followed orders?

Or did Landers just want to make sure nothing happened to tarnish his reputation?

* * *

AVERY SHIVERED AT the stark gray walls of the prison as the guard led her to a private visitors’ room. Apparently the warden had arranged for them to actually be in the room together versus being divided by a Plexiglas wall.

Because she was saying a final goodbye to her brother.

She twisted her hands together as she sank into the metal chair, guilt making her stomach cramp.

She should have visited Hank before now. Should have come and thanked him for that night. Should have made sure he was all right.

The door closed, locking her in the room, and her vision blurred. Suddenly she was back there in that cold room at the Mulligan house. Lying in the metal bed with the ratty blanket...

Joleen was gone. She’d left earlier that day to take care of her mama. Avery knew it was going to be a bad night. Wade had started with the booze as soon as he’d come home from his job at the garage.

She clutched the covers and stared at the spider spinning a web on the windowpane. Rain pounded on the tin roof. Wind whistled through the eaves, rattling the glass.

“Get in there, boy.”

“Don’t tie me up tonight,” Hank shouted. “And leave Avery alone.”

Avery fought a scream. She wanted to lock the door, but she’d done that before, and it hadn’t stopped him. It only made him madder. He’d broken it down with a hatchet and threatened to kill her if she locked it again.

Something slammed against the wall. Wade punching Hank. Grunts followed. Hank was fighting Wade, but Wade would win. He always won.