Gage (Texas Boudreau Brotherhood #16)

Chapter Two

CHAPTER TWO

G age toed off his shoes before settling in against the headboard of the hotel room’s bed. He pulled his laptop across his lap and opened the lid, watching the screensaver pop up and smiled. Nobody else except a Boudreau would recognize the photo, but it gave him a warm feeling inside every time he saw it. A picture of the Boudreau ranch’s Big House dominated the screen, its white paint, green shutters, and sprawling front porch a welcome sight. Knowing that his favorite people resided in the charming two-story home made it a special place.

With a sigh he moved his finger across the mouse trackpad, pulling open the folder he’d labeled with Suzanna Dawkins’ name. Inside were the sparse notes Brandon “Bogey” McKinney sent over before his meeting with the pretty blonde. He’d noted her husband had been stabbed thirty-seven times in the torso and neck. What the elusive Mrs. Dawkins hadn’t mentioned was Steven Dawkins’ throat had been slit from ear-to-ear, severing the carotid arteries. That would have been a lot of blood, which would have been impossible to miss.

How was it possible she’d slept through an attack that violent? It didn’t seem feasible. He’d seem people stabbed before. They almost always fought back, struggled against their attacker or assailant. It made her claim of hearing or seeing nothing suspect.

Googling newspaper articles on Steven Dawkins’ death didn’t reveal much new information. They were too busy trying to sensationalize the “Black Widow” than to report facts, though he was able to find out a few things.

Suzanna Covington had married Steven Dawkins six years earlier after what the press called a whirlwind courtship. They’d met at a charity gala, raising money and awareness for abuse victims and survivors of traumatic events. Dawkins had donated an obscenely large amount of money. Suzanna had been the daughter of the hostess of the event, a woman named Janelle Covington. Looking at the photos, Gage didn’t note much of a likeness between mother and daughter. Janelle’s hair was dark and elegantly styled in an up do and her brown eyes appeared cold and emotionless in the photo. She was thin to the point of looking emaciated, and he knew many women strove for that look. He’d heard the expression quoted that you could never be too rich or too thin. Janelle took that saying to the extreme. Suzanna, on the other hand, was beautiful in a more natural way. Her long blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders in waves, the lights from the chandeliers giving it a golden glow, and it almost looked like a halo. Golden amber eyes sparkled with life, and her lips were curved up in a happy smile.

Reading further, he realized why mother and daughter didn’t resemble each other—Sabrina was the stepmother.

Another thing prickled at the back of his mind. Bogey hadn’t mentioned how he knew Suzanna. Bogey was a Navy SEAL, married with a kid. Though he’d moved up through the ranks in the Navy, as far as Gage knew, he didn’t move in the same social circles as the Dawkins’. Another mystery he’d uncover the facts about, but later. Right now, he needed to know more about Suzanna and her deceased husband.

It was clear from the press and tabloid accounts of the murder, they’d pretty much tried and convicted Suzanna in the court of public opinion. And on the surface, who wouldn’t? Dead husband with multiple stab wounds and a slit throat, in bed with a wife who claims to have heard or seen nothing. On those facts alone, she looked guilty as original sin.

Still, something felt off about the whole story. On talking with her, Suzanna seemed like an intelligent woman. If she’d been planning to murder her husband, she’d have come up with a better and more plausible alibi. Probably a more efficient and bloodless way of getting rid of him too. Nope, things were too cut and dried for his liking. Suspicious by nature, Gage didn’t like the way the facts were all neatly stacked against the widow. Too neatly.

Unfortunately, all of this happened in Dallas, which was a big city with big city problems and big city cops. The kind who wouldn’t take kindly to somebody with the CIA asking questions about one of their cases. Not without a good reason. And the only reason Gage had was he didn’t believe Suzanna guilty.

Too bad this hadn’t happened in Shiloh Springs. There’d be no covering up anything there, no stonewalling behind mountains of paperwork or waiting for subpoenas. He grinned, imaging Rafe and Chance’s faces if he strolled in asking about a case like Suzanna’s.

Picking up his cell, he phoned a friend he’d worked with at the Agency, now retired and living in Plano, Texas. While it wasn’t Dallas County, he’d bet Chet would know somebody in the Dallas Police Department he could ask a few questions of, or who could point him to the detectives working the case. Maybe put in a good word, so they wouldn’t see his poking around as stepping on their toes.

“Gage? Why are you calling me at this time of the night? Somebody die?”

“Sorry, Chet. I’m working a case and didn’t check the time. How’ve you been?”

He heard a couple of grunts, knew Chet was probably shifting around in the bed. Glancing at the time on the corner of the laptop screen, he winced. He’d really had no idea it was so late, or early depending on your point of view.

“Hang on a sec. Gonna take things out to the kitchen, so I don’t wake Charlene. She’s gotta be at school extra early. The kids are putting on some kind of program or skit or whatever it is that kindergarteners do to impress their parents, and she’s dealing with a ton of extra work. I do not want to get between her and her sleep.”

Gage heard the soft snick of a door closing, and then a loud grunt followed by a string of curses.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Hit my doggone foot on the bottom stair. I swear little toes are only good for one thing, and that’s catching on every bleeping piece of furniture they come close too.”

“Sorry, buddy.”

“It’s okay. Now, tell me why you’re calling me. It’s been a while.”

“It has, hasn’t it? I’ve been asked by a friend to look into a case off the books. A friend of his is suspected of murder, and he’s sure she didn’t do it.”

“She? Oh boy, juicy. Give me all the details.”

“Honestly, you probably know more about this case than I do at this point, since it happened in your neck of the woods. Suzanna Dawkins.”

There was a long moment of silence before Chet came back on the line. He sighed. “Hate to say it, pal, but you’ve stepped into something you might want to walk away from.”

Gage cocked his head at his friend’s words, more intrigued than ever. Chet wasn’t one to jump to conclusions or consider somebody guilty without knowing all the facts. He had a sinking feeling there was more to this case than he knew…yet.

“Don’t really have a choice. I owe my friend a big favor, and he’s called in his marker. I’ve looked at everything I can find online, but since you live up there by Dallas, I figured you could give me the local gossip.”

“I don’t know anything about Suzanna or Steven Dawkins personally, other than they were part of the Dallas elite. Uber wealthy, Steven was right up there with Bezos and Gates. Made a fortune in oil and gas, then diversified and went into IT and technology. Heard he worked with artificial intelligence a lot the last couple of years. Rumors were he was on the brink of something big, maybe a merger with another company.”

That tied in with what Suzanna had told him earlier. He remembered the gut punch he’d felt when he’d heard her mention Sandoval Enterprises. From personal experience, he didn’t like or trust the company, and if Steven Dawkins had planned on doing business with Gustavo Sandoval, he couldn’t help wondering if he’d been as dirty as he knew Sandoval to be.

“I’d heard those rumors too.”

“I have to be honest with you, Gage. Pretty much everybody here in North Texas believes the widow offed her husband. He was a lot older than her. When they got hitched, wasn’t anybody who didn’t believe she was a gold digger, marrying him for his money. Of course, who could blame him? I mean, she is an exceptionally beautiful woman. Made a great trophy wife. Add in the fact she was found in bed with the body, covered in his blood, well it isn’t hard to put two and two together.”

“She was actually found in the bed with him?” The reports had had a field day with that little tidbit.

“That’s what I heard. Maid came in to wake Dawkins because his office had called. He was late for some big meeting. Told the police Mrs. Dawkins was asleep beside her husband, and there was blood everywhere. At first, she thought the missus was dead too.”

“That ties in with what I’m reading. I’m thinking I need to talk with the detective in charge, get his take. Any idea who’s working the case?”

“Lemme think. Pretty sure is Jansen. Not one of my favorite people. Guys been salivating to sink his teeth into a big case and make a name for himself. Got an ego as big as Texas, but I haven’t caught a whiff of him being a dirty cop. I can tell you, he doesn’t like the feds sniffing around any of his cases. Hopefully you can get something out of him, but I wouldn’t hold my breath. This case could give him the boost he needs to shoot up in the ranks in the department, bring him to the attention of the higher ups if he’s able to take it to the D.A. and help get a conviction.”

He wrote the name down, underlining it twice. Something about it niggled at the back of his mind, but he’d worry about that later. Right now he was on a fact-finding mission, and he didn’t like what he was hearing. More and more the evidence was pointing to Suzanna as guilty. Still, he couldn’t wrap his head around her performing such a violent act.

“Thanks, Chet. Appreciate the info and sorry I woke you. Give my best to Charlene and the kids. I’ll try and stop by the next time I’m up that way.”

“You’d better. Charlene will have a conniption fit when she finds out you called and I didn’t wake her.”

After a few another minute of goodbyes, Gage stared at the few notations he’d made while talking. Next to Jansen’s name, he’d noted the man’s ambitions and lack of cooperation with federal investigations. Of course, that tended to be the case with most local cops, they hated when other departments came in. He didn’t blame them, while everybody wanted to solve cases, lots of times conflicts arose because federal agents tended to exclude the locals. He’d seen it happen, and had probably unintentionally done it himself a time or two.

Pulling his laptop closer, he clicked on the society photo of Suzanna Dawkins. The golden amber of her eyes seemed muted in the photo, haunted, even though she was smiling. He’d have bet good money on the fact she hadn’t wanted to be at the soiree. Though he knew with her background and being a society wife, she probably attended these types of parties all the time, he had the feeling it wasn’t the kind of event she favored. It was all conjecture, since he’d only just met her, but she hadn’t put on airs or treated him as anything but an equal. He couldn’t help wondering if that was an act too.

“Who are you really Suzanna Dawkins?”

Closing the laptop, he slid it to the side of the mattress, and plumped the pillow behind his head. In the morning, he’d make some calls to the Dallas Police Department, find out how much information he could get from Detective Jansen.

Closing his eyes, he found himself thinking about Shiloh Springs. It had been too long since he’d been back. Over the past few months things had changed. More of the Boudreau clan had settled down with their soul mates. Ms. Patti and Douglas had renewed their marriage vows. He’d been thrilled to be invited to walk Ms. Patti down the aisle, along with the other “Lost Boys” from the Boudreau clan. If there were two people in the entire world who he cared about and respected above all others, it was Douglas and Patti Boudreau. He’d even contemplated changing his last name to Boudreau, like the other fosters had, but by the time he was old enough he was in the military and then working clandestine missions for the CIA and black ops.

He tossed and turned on the hotel bed, unable to get his brain to shut off long enough to fall asleep. It was a problem he’d had most of his life. The shrink he’d gone to see hadn’t been much help, wanting to prescribe a sleeping medication. In his line of work, that was a giant no-no. He needed to be able to react at a moment’s notice, and being drugged and groggy wouldn’t cut it. So he handled the insomnia the best he could, which meant either laying in the bed and letting his brain race with thoughts or working. Television didn’t hold his interest. He doubted he could even come up with the name of the last program he’d watched.

With a sigh, he picked up the laptop and opened a file. Might as well get some work done. Tomorrow he’d meet again with the enigmatic Suzanna Dawkins, maybe pry a few more answers from her.

Good thing he loved a puzzle, because he had the feeling putting all the pieces of this one might be the hardest one of his life, but he was up for the challenge.