Gains,” J.D. answered.
Carson frowned. He would have preferred having someone a little more reliable. “Gains is a small-time drug dealer.”
“Doesn’t mean he couldn’t have seen her,” Finn pointed out. He looked at J.D. “How did he know it was Demi? It’s dark at that hour.”
J.D. laughed. “Not that many people around here have her color hair, Chief.”
Finn nodded. J.D. was right. “Okay, that puts her at the scene. Looks like we’ve got that evidence Demi kept going on about,” he told Carson, adding, “Time for that bounty hunter to do some heavy-duty explaining if she intends to walk out of here a second time. Let’s go wrestle up an arrest warrant.”
Carson didn’t have to be told twice. He led the way out the door.
It took a little time, but Carson and his boss finally found a judge who was willing to issue an arrest warrant at that time of night.
“Do me a favor, lose my number,” Judge David Winkler told Finn, closing his front door and going back to his poker game.
Tucking the warrant into his pocket, the chief turned toward Carson. “Let’s go. We’re not waiting until morning,” Finn told the detective as he got back into his vehicle.
Armed with the warrant, for the second time in less than five hours police detectives hurried back to Demi Colton’s small ranch house on the outskirts of town, this time to arrest her.
The house was dark when they arrived.
“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Carson murmured as he and Finn approached.
Carson knocked on the door. When there was no response, he knocked again, harder this time. Rather than knock a third time, he tried the doorknob. He was surprised to find that the door was unlocked.
Guns drawn, they entered and conducted a quick room-to-room search of the one-story dwelling. There was no one home.
“Damn it.” Finn fumed. “My gut told me to keep her in a holding cell and not let her just walk out of the police station like that.”
“Looks like some of her clothes are gone,” Carson called out to the chief, looking at a cluster of empty hangers in the bounty hunter’s bedroom closet.
“Yeah, well, so is she,” Finn answered from the kitchen. When Carson joined him, Finn held up the note he’d found on the kitchen table.
“What’s that, a confession?” Carson asked, coming around to look at the piece of notepaper.
“Just the opposite,” Finn told him in disgust. “It says ‘I’m innocent.’”
Carson said what he assumed they were both thinking. “Innocent people don’t run.”
The chief surprised him when Finn said, “They might if they think the deck is stacked against them.”
“Is that what you think? That she’s innocent?” Carson questioned, frowning. He supposed that there was a small outside chance that the chief might be right, but as far as he was concerned, he was going to need a lot of convincing.
“I think I want to talk to her again and find out just how her necklace wound up under the wheel of that car,” Finn answered.
In order to talk to the woman again they were going to have to find her. Carson blew out a long breath, thinking.
“Maybe her father knows where she is,” he said, speculating. “Won’t hurt to talk to him. Man might be able to tell us something.”
Although, from what Bo had told him about Demi’s contentious relationship with her father, Carson highly doubted that Rusty Colton would be able to give them any viable insight into his daughter’s whereabouts.
But, Carson speculated, the old man might know something he didn’t know he knew. They had nothing to lose by questioning Rusty Colton.
At least they would be no worse off than they were now, Carson reasoned as they drove over to The Pour House.
* * *
The bar’s door was closed when they got there, but the lights were still on. Carson banged on it with his fist until Rusty Colton came to unlock it. The tall, skinny man had his ever-present mug of beer in his hand as he opened the door.
Bleary brown eyes quickly assessed the situation from beneath unruly reddish-brown hair.
“Sorry, boys, I’m just about to close up for the night,” Rusty said just before Carson pushed his way in. Taking a step back, the bar owner regrouped. “Okay then, I’ll have to limit you to just one round—although I just might see my way clear to staying open a little longer if you two boys are willing to pay extra.”
Small, beady eyes shifted from the chief to the detective. Rusty waited in anticipation to have his palm greased.
He waited in vain.
“We’re not here to drink, Mr. Colton,” Carson told the man coldly.
He’d never cared for the owner of The Pour House. There was something palatably unsavory about Rusty Colton. Carson had no doubt that the man would sell his own mother if he needed the money.
Annoyed, Rusty gestured toward the door. “Well then, ‘gentlemen,’ I need to get back to closing up my establishment,” he told them.
Neither of the men moved toward the door.
“We were wondering if you could tell us where your daughter is, Rusty,” Finn asked in a voice that said he wasn’t about to be trifled with. “Demi.”
Rusty snorted. “She’s a grown woman, Finn. She comes and goes as she pleases. Ungrateful whelp never did mind me,” he said, banging down his empty mug on the counter. “I can’t be expected to keep track of her.”
Carson moved in a little closer to the man. He wasn’t that much taller than Rusty, but he was a great deal more muscular and therefore more intimidating. “You keep track of everything when it suits you. Now, let’s try this again,” he said evenly. “Where’s Demi?”
“Well, if you must know,” Rusty said, smugly drawing out each word, “she’s gone. Long gone. I think you two apes probably scared her and she hightailed it out of here.”
That wasn’t good enough for him. “What makes you so sure?” Carson wanted to know. “Did she tell you?”
“Didn’t have to,” Rusty answered, pushing together several glasses on the counter in a half-hearted attempt to clean up. “I stopped by her place during my evening break—I leave Amos in charge then. He’s dumb, but nobody’s going to try to skip out on paying that big ox,” he informed the two men at the bar proudly.
“Get back to the point,” Finn ordered. “You stopped by Demi’s place and then what?”
“Well, she wasn’t home so I decided to dip into that big wad of cash she keeps under her mattress like I do every now and then—only when I need a little something to get me through to the end of the month,” Rusty admitted without a drop of embarrassment.
“Except that I couldn’t this time,” he complained. “It was gone. Guess the little witch must have taken it and hightailed it out of here.” He looked quite put out by his youngest daughter’s action. “Didn’t even think to leave me any, my own daughter,” he complained.
Carson exchanged looks with his boss. They weren’t going to get anything more out of Rusty.
“Let us know if she comes back,” Finn told the man as he walked out.
Rusty grunted something in response, but it was unintelligible and they’d already lost too much