to hell?”
“Yes, sir. So you’ve heard. The beautician, Kenderly Tyler, witnessed the whole thing. I stopped the murderer from blowing—” He darted a look at the woman he’d rescued to see if she’d heard his slip. “I stopped him from having a third victim. We came straight here. I didn’t think you’d want anyone to know we have her in custody.”
Kenderly got the dogs another treat and repeated his hand commands to them.
“You think she’s reliable?”
“As far as I can tell. I also have the murder weapon.” He placed the gun inside the bag. “It should take you about forty minutes to get here, sir. See you then.” He dropped his phone on the counter, and Clementine nudged the back of his knee. “Oh no, you don’t. Christy fed you an hour ago.”
“Where’s the bath, and do you have a first-aid kit?”
“You okay?” During the call, she’d taken a paper towel from the roll he left on the table and started dabbing at her legs. “Obviously not. Those from the trees we brushed through?”
“Yes. My legs started stinging on the golfing green.”
“Let me get something.”
The house really was super small. Keeping the medicine cabinet mirror open, he could still see the kitchen table. Bear was spread-eagle on the floor waiting for some more attention. Kenderly was staring at the gun and not moving. He dug through the antibiotic creams, looking for something without an expired date. No luck.
“I found some cotton, alcohol and peroxide. Best I can do.” He knelt and took a look at the long scratch at the top of her thigh.
“It’ll be fine.” Kenderly’s soft voice matched her dainty frame and manner.
“Need a belt to bite down on?”
She looked a bit confused. Instead of explaining, he poured the bottles over the scratches. Her tanned thigh used to be completely smooth, not even a freckle.
The deep scratches would cause the peroxide to sting—a lot. Garrison fanned at her leg, and she shut her eyes. He leaned in close and blew across the peroxide bubbles, hoping to ease the pain.
“How could I have gotten into this mess?” She fanned her cheeks in a motion his sister used years ago when trying not to cry. “When I woke up this morning, I never imagined I’d have two dogs at my feet, be sitting in a funny little kitchen with peroxide dripping down my thigh and have a complete stranger blowing up my skirt.”
“I don’t really know what to say after that.” He choked to keep from busting out laughing. Two Band-Aids across the deepest scratch and they were done.
She covered her face, looking embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to complain about a scratch when Isabella... She’s... Oh, gosh, I can’t stay here.”
Garrison lifted her to her feet, against his chest and into his arms. “Go ahead and cry. I won’t stop you. You’re safe here.” He couldn’t just tell her she would be okay. He had to make her feel as though she was safe, and he didn’t know another way.
She shoved at his shoulders, and he let her go. “What am I doing here? If they’re following us, how can we possibly be safe?”
“You witnessed a murder, and we need to get your statement. The captain will be here soon, and we’ll have some decisions. Until then, let’s wait in the other room.”
He led the way to the living area, just big enough for a small couch, arm chair and a television that covered most of the end wall. He loved that television and would be hauling it back to Waco after this assignment.
“Why did he shoot them?” Kenderly sat and dropped her head in her hands. “He was going to kill me, too. Wasn’t he?”
“I think so.”
“Why did he kill them?”
“That’s what I’m hoping you can help us with, Kenderly.”
“Why were you there?” She looked up quickly, accusing him of something without a word.
He flattened his lips shut and shook his head. He couldn’t tell her that he was undercover tonight after an anonymous tip let them know there’d be trouble. He should have gotten the women extracted earlier instead of waiting for the cover of darkness. They’d been hoping to turn one of the families against the other. Instead, both had been hit.
“Let’s start with how you knew Isabella Tenoreno.”
“She came once a week into the shop where I have a chair. Wednesday she said she was having a party today and asked if I could come. I do hair and makeup for private events. This was a little different since she invited me to attend. I ended up doing her friend Trinity’s hair, too.”
Trinity Rosco, the wife of the rival crime family. Garrison noticed how stiff Kenderly had become. She was a terrible liar. So there was more to her story than she was letting on. “What happened after that?”
“I was gathering my things and cleaning my brushes in the bathroom. I heard something break, and Trinity screamed. At least I think it was her. The man, he already had the gun out and told them both to get to their knees.”
“What language?”
“English.”
“Why didn’t he see you?”
“I saw the gun first thing, so I didn’t open the door all the way. I should have. I should have done something. Maybe they’d still be alive.” She covered her face with her hands again, crying this time.
“Don’t doubt for a minute that you’d be dead now.”
“I... I thought it might be a...a joke. You know? The gun didn’t look real at first. But then he...he shot them. He just...shot them.”
She jumped up and stood at the window. He let her. What could he say? Two women had been brutally murdered. There was nothing that would take the image away from her. He was just lucky she wasn’t falling apart. She could be a hysterical mess.
“Then he found you?” he prompted.
“There were noises coming from the sitting room. I thought about calling out, but I didn’t. I must have moved backward, hit something or made a noise. He found me and was pulling me over their bodies when you came into the bedroom.”
“So you’re a hairstylist?”
She nodded, rubbing under her eyes, smearing the mascara that had run from her tears. Personally, he didn’t care for a lot of makeup on a woman, but he did appreciate her long multicolored hair and bare legs.
“I know my aunt used to talk to her hairdresser all the time,” he prodded. “Did Isabella happen to mention what this special occasion was about?”
“Isabella was never at my work alone. Her bodyguard was never more than five feet away and could always hear what we were saying. This time she locked them out of the bedroom, while she changed her clothes.”
“She didn’t mention...anything?”
“I’m not sure I know what you’re getting at. Isabella had lots of money. Why wouldn’t her husband’s enemies just kidnap her?”
“That’s one of the things I’m trying to find out, Kenderly.”
Was there something too innocent in her wide eyes? Something she was holding back? Or was he too paranoid, after losing not one, but two women to an assassin? Naw, she was holding something back. She’d said “husband’s enemies,” and that meant she knew. She just didn’t trust him yet.
“Is that horrible man going to try and kill me again?”
If we’re lucky he’ll be after us both. It was easy to think that. As a Texas Ranger he wanted the guy to find him.
It would be