The Silence (Columbia River #2)(63)

“The same kind of asshole that hits any woman.”

“Touché.”

“This was before David was shot?” Ava asked.

“They believe so. They’re headed in the right direction to cross David’s path too.”

“Jayne would never shoot anyone.” I think. “Jayne would never shoot David,” she corrected. “She worshiped him.”

“I have no doubt that the jerk who hit her is our shooter.”

“She can’t have been involved.”

“I hope not,” Zander agreed. “But she has a bad track record of picking the wrong man.”

Ava couldn’t disagree. Jayne’s history proved she liked a bad boy. Many women did. But Jayne’s bad boys were often violent felons or desperate drug addicts. Or both.

“I’ll text the detective that we’ve identified her,” said Zander. “I told him about your phone call and her claim that she knew who killed David. It’s a start.”

“A much bigger start than they’ve had,” agreed Ava, checking her phone. Her heart skipped when she spotted an email from the agent she’d asked to find information on Jayne’s call. She opened it. “Jayne called from a disposable phone.”

“Not surprised.”

“They traced the call to a cell tower near The Dalles.”

Rural Columbia River area.

“Just one tower? I thought calls were usually picked up by a few and then went with the strongest signal.”

“According to this, it only connected to one.”

“So wherever she is, it’s remote if there was only one tower within her phone’s reach. Probably why it was choppy: it had no stronger choice.”

Ava held Zander’s gaze. “Now what?” She felt overloaded on adrenaline, a subtle buzz in all her muscles. She needed to act.

“We need to get back to finding Shawn Braswell.” Sympathy lit his eyes. “I can tell you want to head to The Dalles, but that’s not our priority.”

“She claims she knows who killed David.”

“And we passed that information to the investigators. You need to send them the email you just received too.”

“I will.” Frustration simmered under her skin. “I’ll call Mercy. Maybe she can dig deeper.”

“Good idea.” He raised a brow at her. “Let her handle it,” he said.

Mercy Kilpatrick was an agent at the Bend FBI office, a couple of hours south of The Dalles. On a map, The Dalles was closer to Portland, but its geographical region and rural community placed it in the Bend office’s territory.

Mercy was one of Ava’s top picks to be her wedding attendant.

The wedding isn’t important now.

Ava touched Mercy’s number in her phone and waited for the other agent to answer.

Zander was right; they had work to do.

Jayne was not her problem.

Maybe if I keep repeating that, I’ll start believing it.



Mason paused in the doorway to Ray’s hospital room. Ray’s eyes were closed as he lay in a partially upright position. The room was very quiet. He’d called Ray an hour ago to let him know he’d be stopping by. Ray had said Jill and the kids would be running errands.

Ray looked thin, surprising Mason a bit. The man always had such a powerful physical presence, but now it was muted. He’d always had a bit of a Superman aura, seeming invincible. This week had proved that wrong.

He’s going to be fine, showing he’s still Superman.

But he looked a bit Clark Kent–ish at the moment.

Ray opened his eyes and a grin lit up his face. He pressed a button on the side of his bed and raised the head farther. Simply by smiling he lit up the room. He didn’t need to be physically built to project his charisma. Ray was more than his strength.

Entering the room, Mason smiled back and then clapped him on the shoulder. “Looking good.”

“I’ll look better once I’m out of here. This afternoon looks promising. I’m so tired of green Jell-O.”

“Green is the best flavor.”

“Wrong. Strawberry is the best. And green isn’t a flavor. Lime is the flavor.”

Ray sounded like his old self, making the knot in Mason’s chest ease.

“You could have waited and visited me at home,” the patient said.

“I knew I had time this morning. Who knows what I’ll be working on this afternoon?”

“True.” Interest lit up Ray’s eyes. “Catch me up.”

Mason hesitated.

Ray pointed at a chair. “Sit. Talk. Everyone’s being vague when I ask questions about the case, as if information will slow my recovery. I’m hungry for details.”

Mason sat.

“What’s this about a car wreck last night?” Ray asked.

“Who told you?”

Ray shrugged. “I hear things. Your truck okay?”

“It won’t be the same, but it’s repairable.”

“What the hell were you doing?”

Mason told him about the Mustang, the stolen plates, and the chase that had ended in his accident.

“No one saw the vehicle after that?”

“No. A skeleton crew was working last night because—” Mason stopped.