The drill of his gaze bore through her. For a few seconds she wanted to tell him everything. But the intruder’s threat replayed through her mind and the words stuck in her throat.

She needed to get out of here. How did she think she could have a conversation with the Texas Ranger and leave unscathed?

TEXAS RANGER JUSTICE:

Keeping the Lone Star State safe

Trail of Lies—Margaret Daley, April 2011

MARGARET DALEY

feels she has been blessed. She has been married more than thirty years to her husband, Mike, whom she met in college. He is a terrific support and her best friend. They have one son, Shaun. Margaret has been writing for many years and loves to tell a story. When she was a little girl, she would play with her dolls and make up stories about their lives. Now she writes these stories down. She especially enjoys weaving stories about families and how faith in God can sustain a person when things get tough. When she isn’t writing, she is fortunate to be a teacher for students with special needs. Margaret has taught for more than twenty years and loves working with her students. She has also been a Special Olympics coach and has participated in many sports with her students.

Trail of Lies
Margaret Daley

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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Casting all your care upon Him;

for He careth for you.

—1 Peter 5:7

To Terri Reed, Lenora Worth, Valerie Hansen

Lynette Eason and Shirlee McCoy—

it was great working with you all.

To all the Texas Rangers in the present day and the past.

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

LETTER TO READER

QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION

ONE

Melora Hudson punched in her alarm code to turn the security system off, then tossed her keys on the kitchen counter. All she wanted to do was sink into a chair and drink a cup of hot tea after her exhausting week. But as she moved toward the kettle on the stove, a sound—something hitting the tiled floor—came from the living room and froze her in mid-stride. Tension whipped through her. Until her cat shot through the doorway and launched himself into her arms.

“Okay, Patches, what have you gotten into this time?”

His cry—like a baby’s—protested her scolding.

Melora cuddled the fifteen-pound white cat against her chest and started for the living room. Just what she needed—another broken lamp or, like the last time, a crystal vase. As she approached the entrance, she mentally prepared for the devastation, realizing she could never get rid of the animal because her daughter loved Patches. And so did she.

A few steps into the room, Melora stopped, scanning the large expanse for any sign of what had made the crashing noise.

The desk chair was overturned at the far end. Strange. How had Patches done that? She placed the large cat on the tiled floor and headed across the room. Nothing he did should surprise her anymore. She began to pick up the chair while Patches weaved in and out of her legs, but stopped. Her nape prickled; unease streaked down her spine. The quiet of the house, usually a balm, was now ominous. She glanced toward the study.

She wasn’t alone.

That thought bolted her to the floor for a few precious seconds before she whirled and ran toward the back porch off the great room. Halfway to the exit, she noticed the lock wasn’t turned right.

The door was unlocked. Alarm squeezed her chest.

She peered sideways and spied a wiry, medium-sized man wearing a black ski mask barreling toward her. Pushing herself faster, she reached for the knob. Two feet away.

He tackled her. The impact of the cool tiles knocked the breath from her, pain radiating through her. His body trapped her beneath him. All the fear from that break-in two years ago came to the foreground.

She twisted and bucked, trying to shove him off her. She drew in a gulp of air. Finally, her protest ripped from her throat and ricocheted off the tall ceilings, filling the room with her terror.

He slapped her across the face. “Shut up.”

Texas Ranger Daniel Boone Riley turned his white Ford 150 truck down the road that led to the Hudson’s house in Lone Star Estates where many wealthy San Antonians lived. He should know. His family mansion wasn’t but a mile from here.

He’d seen Melora Hudson, the widow, at her husband’s funeral a couple of days before. A picture of a five-foot, six-inch, willowy woman materialized in his mind. While she’d stood at the gravesite, her red hair with golden highlights had caught the sun’s rays, accentuating the long curls about her beautiful face—a solemn face, appropriate for a funeral. Until he’d locked gazes with her for a few seconds and something akin to fear had flashed into her sea-green eyes. She’d immediately looked away, but he’d seen the apprehension.

What did she know about her husband’s death? What was she hiding?

He was here to find out. He’d spent the last few days learning everything he could about the woman. Although Axle Hudson had been murdered two years ago and his body only found last month and not identified until the previous week, the man’s death was tied to the recent murder of Captain Gregory Pike of the Texas Rangers’ Company D. Daniel would stop at nothing to discover that link. Gregory had been a good friend as well as his boss. There was no way any Ranger in Company D would allow his murder to go unsolved—even though few leads had been uncovered in the month since Greg’s death. They knew his murder was connected to an elusive group of people called the Lions of Texas who dealt in illegal activities—drugs among them. Had Axle Hudson been involved in drug dealing? One of many questions Daniel wanted answered.

He parked his truck in front of the large, Spanish-style house with stucco accents and a tile roof. It fit into its surroundings and shouted wealth—typical of what he’d known of Axle Hudson, a flamboyant playboy who had finally married Melora Madison, the niece of prominent businessman Tyler Madison, in a wedding that had been the event of the social season in San Antonio six years ago.

As he strode toward the porch, a scream rent the air. A woman’s scream coming from the house. He pulled his Wilson Combat pistol from his waist holster and rushed toward the porch. When he tried the handle, the door was locked. He took a few steps back, started to lift his leg to kick the heavy solid door and realized he wouldn’t be able to budge it.

Daniel needed an entrance into the house other than the sturdy front door. Swiveling to the right, he jogged toward the side, placing a call to the sheriff for back up. He found a flimsier door next to the three-car garage and put all his strength behind kicking in the wooden structure. It exploded inward, and he burst into the mudroom.

The pressure on Melora’s chest caused dots to dance before her eyes. Sweat coated her face, her body.

Her attacker’s dark gaze trailed down her, leaving her chilled. With her arms pinned to her side and the man’s heavy weight on her, fear drenched her like her perspiration.

“I won’t hurt you if you keep quiet.” The raspy voice, as if he’d smoked one too many cigarettes, didn’t give his words a ring of truth.

His smelly odor assailed her. Nausea roiled in her stomach. “What do you want?” she managed to squeak out, so glad her daughter was playing at a friend’s. If Kaitlyn had been here… The thought chilled her blood.

The intruder withdrew a switchblade and flicked it open. “Information. It was about time you got home.”

Melora’s eyes grew round, focused totally on the knife he held before her. Not far from her heart. Her throat.

“Where’s the flash drive your husband always had on him?”

“I don’t know.” The flash drive Axle wore around his neck? What had he done to cause this continual nightmare?

The blade came closer. “There are two dumb things you can do. Not give me the flash drive and talk to the police about this or anything concerning your husband’s affairs. Are you smart? I’d hate your little girl to be without a mommy. Where’s the flash drive? It wasn’t found with your husband’s body. It has to be here.”

The gleaming metal commanded her full attention. Until a boom rocked the air. It sounded as though something had slammed against the wall.

The intruder jerked up, his focus on the entrance into the living room.

Melora grabbed the split second of distraction and shoved upward with all her strength. The man, taken by surprise, teetered above her, the knife clanging to the floor.

Totally in cop mode with his gun clasped in his hand, Daniel quickly assessed the kitchen and moved toward the hallway. A noise to his right—like a scuffle—drew him into the living room. On the far side, a man with a ski mask leaped to his feet and spun around.

“Halt! State Police,” Daniel shouted, aiming his gun.

Out of the corner of his eye, he glimpsed Melora sprawled on the floor, her eyes huge in her pale face, a knife a few feet from her on the floor. She scrambled back from her attacker.

As though he had nothing to lose, the intruder sprang for the porch door, wrenched it open, then plunged through the opening.

As Daniel raced toward the exit after the man, he glanced at Melora. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.” Her answer came out with a shaky rasp, her face leached of all color.

“I called the sheriff. Help is on the way.”

He hurried after the attacker who swung over the railing and landed in the grass below, then shot toward the side of the house. Daniel took the same route. The second his feet touched the ground, he sprinted forward, rounding the pool and cabana not far behind the assailant.

When the man scaled the fence separating the Hudson’s property from the neighbor’s, his foot caught on a wooden railing, and he tumbled over. Daniel pushed himself faster, eating up several yards between them before the intruder hustled to his feet and continued toward a vehicle parked on the street.

Daniel sailed over the same fence, adrenaline spurring him on. Determined to catch the burglar, he raced across the neighbor’s front lawn. When the assailant reached a white Honda Accord, he dragged the door open and lunged inside.

The car started, and the intruder floored the gas, shrieking away from the curb. Daniel zeroed in on the license plate and got a partial number, the rest obscured by dirt. He lifted his gun to aim at the back left tire, knowing the possibility of stopping the car was slim.

Too late. The vehicle disappeared around the corner.

Daniel dug into his pocket and withdrew his cell, calling the suspect’s car and partial plate number into the sheriff’s office. Then he trudged back to the Hudson’s house, which sat on several acres of land. The picture of Melora on the floor, afraid, her shirt pulled out of her slacks, her long hair tousled, her body quaking, haunted his thoughts. The visualization rocked him with anger.

What was going on? That question plagued him the whole way back as he retraced his steps to see if the suspect had dropped anything in his mad dash to get away. Nothing.

Climbing the steps to the deck, Daniel holstered his pistol. When he entered the living room, he discovered Melora standing not far from where she’d been attacked. Her shirt was tucked into her pants, and she was running her trembling hand through her hair. The pale cast to her face, and the large, round eyes spoke of a woman who had been frightened for her life.

He needed answers, ones his fellow Ranger Oliver Drew hadn’t gotten when he had interviewed her last week after Axle Hudson’s remains had finally been identified. “Did this have anything to do with your husband’s murder?” Daniel covered the short distance between them.

She backed up, her arms crossing her chest. “I think…” Her tongue ran over her lips. “I think it was just a burglar.”

He couldn’t shake the feeling something was going on here beyond a mere robbery, especially since Melora kept evading eye contact. “What was he after?”

Her mouth pinched into a frown. “I don’t know. He didn’t give me a rundown while he had me pinned to the floor.”

Her body language—rubbing her eye, looking away for a couple of seconds—shouted at deception. She knew what the man was after. Why didn’t she tell him? Was there a connection to her dead husband?

“You’re Daniel Riley with the Texas Rangers. I told the other Ranger last week I don’t know who would have killed my husband or why someone would want him dead. Why would you think this has anything to do with Axle’s murder?” She drew herself up straight, dropping her arms to her sides, her chin tilting up a notch.

They had casually met before since their families moved in the same social circles, and she was on the Alamo Planning Committee for the 175th anniversary celebration of the Battle of the Alamo in March. He’d spoken to the committee a few months back. But he really didn’t know her. That would change after today. “Why are you so sure it doesn’t? Your husband’s remains were finally identified after he’d been missing for two years and the next week your house is broken into. Just a coincidence?”

“Yes. I’ve told Ranger Drew everything I know, which is nothing. Axle went out one evening and never returned. That’s all I know.”

“Did anyone have a grudge against your husband?”

“Why are the Texas Rangers involved in the investigation? I would have thought the sheriff would be conducting the murder investigation. He’s the one I reported to when my husband went missing two years ago.”

“Your husband’s murder may be tied to an investigation we’re running.”

“What?”

The doorbell’s chime cut the tension vibrating between them.

“Excuse me.” Relief washed over her face as she headed toward the foyer.

“That’s the sheriff. I called in the make of the getaway car and its partial license number.” Daniel trailed behind her, just in case it wasn’t the sheriff.

She halted and looked back at him. “Good.”

But that fear he’d glimpsed at the gravesite flickered across her face momentarily. She quickly continued her trek toward the door and opened it to the sheriff and a deputy.

Sheriff Karl Layton moved into the house after indicating to his deputy to check the grounds. “Melora, I understand there was a break-in here today.”

“A man was here when I came home a little while ago.”

“Where are your housekeeper and daughter?”

“Juanita took Kaitlyn to a play date with a friend. I had a meeting at the hospital with the ladies auxiliary.”

“When will they be back?”

“Not for another hour.”

“I’ll try to make this quick. I’d hate to upset Kaitlyn any more.”

“Thanks, Karl. I appreciate that.” Melora indicated to the living room and Daniel standing in its entrance. “Ranger Riley managed to thwart the man. Nothing was taken that I can tell.”

How would she know? She couldn’t have checked. There hadn’t been enough time. Daniel got the distinct feeling the woman wanted both him and the sheriff gone as quickly as possible. That wasn’t going to happen. She wasn’t getting rid of him that easily. Her husband had been involved in what was going on with the Lions of Texas. His body had been found buried at one of the organization’s drug drop sites. Had he been a member of the group? Had he crossed them somehow? Did Melora know something about the Lions of Texas?

Daniel strode to where the knife lay on the floor and pointed at it. “The intruder dropped this before fleeing.”

The color that had returned to Melora’s face drained again as she looked at the weapon. She turned away, hugging her arms across her chest.

“Good. We’ll check for fingerprints.” The sheriff donned a latex glove and carefully picked up the knife to drop into an evidence bag.

“You probably won’t find anything since he wore gloves, but maybe he was careless and we’ll catch a break.”

“It’s happened before, and I’m always grateful when it does.” Karl removed his cowboy hat and held it in his hands as he sat on a beige couch while Melora took the wingback chair across from him. “Can you tell me what happened? Anything about the man?”

She ran her long tapered fingers along her chin. “It happened so fast. I thought Patches had knocked over something in the living room. I came in to investigate. The next thing I know a man tackled me to the floor. The rest is a blur.”

Daniel remained standing by the door to the porch, listening to the shaky thread in her voice. His instincts told him there was a lot more to the story.

“What did he look like?” The sheriff rotated his cowboy hat in his hands.

“He had a black ski mask on. That’s about all I really saw.”

“What color were his eyes?” Daniel asked as he took several steps toward the pair.

“I—green—no, I think brown.” Melora kept her gaze fastened on to the sheriff as though hoping Daniel would go away if she ignored him.

Frustration churned in his gut. “Sheriff Layton, the suspect was about five feet nine. His build was compact. Strands of black hair hung below the ski mask a few inches. He was wearing dark blue jeans and a gray T-shirt, plain as far as I could tell and black leather gloves. His arms were deeply tanned. I gave you the description of the car he used to get away. Oh, and he ran fast, as though he were a runner.”

“That’s a start. We’ve got a BOLO out on the car.”

“Will you let me know when you find it?” Although he knew the sheriff would follow up on the partial license plate and see if he could find a match with a white Honda Accord, Daniel planned to do his own checking into it. He had to do something to find the person who murdered his captain. So much of what he and the other Rangers of Company D had discovered had led nowhere. They knew there was a criminal group in the state called the Lions of Texas and two of the activities they were involved in were drug running and murder. Axle had obviously double-crossed them, and he paid the price. His body was a clue Daniel hoped steered them in the right direction.

“Sure.” The sheriff turned his attention back to Melora. “Do you have any idea how the suspect got into the house?”

She waved her hand toward the porch door. “It was unlocked. The bolt was in the wrong place. I know it was locked when I left and my alarm was on when I came home.”

“Who knows your alarm code?” the sheriff asked, removing a pad from his pocket.

“My housekeeper, a maid who comes twice a week to clean and my uncle.” She rubbed her temple. “I think that’s all. I don’t make it a habit to give out my code.”

“Who’s the maid?” The sheriff jotted something down.

“Alicia Wells, but she’s been with me for years. The same with Juanita. She worked for my uncle before she came to me when I got married. I don’t see either one involved in robbing me.”

While Melora gave the sheriff Alicia’s address, Daniel strode to the porch door and checked it out.

“It doesn’t look like the lock has been tampered with. Who has a key to this door?” Daniel moved back toward Melora.

“The same people. The same key fits all my doors. But again, I can’t see Alicia or Juanita trying to rob me. And my uncle certainly wouldn’t.”

Daniel knew her uncle. Tyler Madison was part of the same social circle as his parents. Although now that his father had died, Daniel’s mother didn’t go out much. “Where does Juanita live?”

“Here. She has a suite and has lived here since the beginning of my marriage. She’s like family.” Melora narrowed her eyes on Daniel, daring him to say otherwise.

The sheriff rose, sympathy on his face. “I’ll talk with Alicia Wells and come back later to see if Juanita knows anything. I don’t have to tell you to change your locks and code.”

“I’ll interview Juanita, Sheriff, and let you know what she says.”

The sheriff nodded toward Daniel. “Fine. I’ll leave my deputy to finish processing the scene. Melora, if you find anything missing or remember anything, call me. I’ll have some deputies cruise by here and keep an eye on the place.”

In one fluid motion she was on her feet, but Daniel noticed her hands still trembled. She clasped them together and walked the sheriff to the door. Daniel scanned the room, looking for anything out of place. Other than the desk chair knocked over, everything seemed as though it were in its place. So if it was a burglar, why didn’t he see any evidence that the man was searching for valuables? Had she interrupted him right after he’d broken into the house? And why did he bother to reset the alarm if it was just a burglary? Most thieves get in and out fast. Was he waiting for Melora to come home and didn’t want to alert her to his presence?

When she reentered the room, she drew in a deep breath. She wasn’t a very good actress. Relief that the sheriff was gone was visible in her expression and the way she carried herself. But the second she spied him, her full tension returned. She stuffed her hands into the front pockets of her expensive brown slacks.

“Who is Patches?” Daniel finally took a seat in a chair.

She stared at him a few, long seconds before she covered the distance and sat where the sheriff had. “He’s my cat.”

“Where is he?”

“He hides when strangers are here. Now that I think about how he flew into my arms, I should have known something was wrong.”

“How do you really know the man didn’t take anything?”

She blinked, her eyes large for a brief moment, then her expression neutralized. “I didn’t see him carrying anything with him. Did you?” One eyebrow rose as though challenging him.

“There are items that are small but valuable. Jewelry, for one. I would suggest you confirm nothing was taken. I’ll go with you to make sure the house is secure. Then I’ll wait for Juanita to return.”

She gripped the edges of the couch cushion. “Let me get something straight with you. Juanita didn’t have anything to do with this. Over the years, she’s had plenty of opportunities to rob me.”

“I still want to talk with her. Your daughter and housekeeper should be home by the time we finish checking the house and you call a locksmith to come out here to change your locks.”

“I can go through everything later.”

“I’m here to help you. You do want to find the man who attacked you?”

Melora sat up straight, her mouth firmed in a frown. “Of course, but I don’t want Kaitlyn to know about any of this. She’s only five and with all that’s happened lately she’s understandably upset.”

“Then, when she comes home, just introduce me as a friend who’s visiting.” He stood. “We probably should get moving if we want to be finished before they arrive. I’ll see what I can do about the door I kicked in. I wouldn’t want your daughter to see it and get upset.”

Her teeth dug into her lower lip as her eyelids closed. “Yes.” But she didn’t move for a long moment.

When she pushed to her feet and her gaze met his, for a few seconds he glimpsed fear in the depths of her green eyes. Weariness lined her beautiful features, triggering his concern. “I’m here to help you. You can trust me.”

Daniel’s words replayed through Melora’s mind as she called a locksmith and a handyman she’d used before to replace the door and locks and as she and the Texas Ranger worked their way through the house. She didn’t know the meaning of the word trust anymore. With the discovery of her husband’s body, the nightmare that had started two years ago with his disappearance was back to plague her.

For almost two years, she’d managed to live her life as if everything was normal. But it had never really been normal since she’d married Axle Hudson six years ago. She’d become trapped in a marriage to a man who had criminal connections and a cruel streak. Not even her uncle could have helped her. Axle had been like a son to him and her husband could do no wrong in his eyes. How would Uncle Tyler ever believe Axle was a criminal, especially when she had no proof?

Even she’d had a hard time believing Axle’s chain of restaurants might be a front for illegal activities. Not the man she’d loved. But once he’d caught her eavesdropping on one of his conversations while she tried to figure out what was going on. After that, the atmosphere in the house had changed. His subtle comments about the value of life and how he would hate for their daughter not to have a mother scared her so much. To the point that she’d started planning her escape from him.

Then Axle went missing. And if she’d still believed in God, she would have thought He’d stepped in and taken care of her problem. That all changed, however, when her house was trashed and she was threatened by two unknown men only days after she’d reported her husband’s disappearance to the authorities.

Keep quiet and stay put and you won’t end up like your husband—dead. The intruders’ words two years ago flashed in and out of her mind. They’d been after Axle’s flash drive then, too. She stumbled as she returned to the living room.

Daniel grasped her arm and steadied her. The brand of his fingers around her biceps zipped a fiery path through her.

She stepped away, needing space. “I told you the man didn’t take anything. My jewelry is all there. Even my husband’s coin collection is intact. And it’s quite valuable.”

“Still, it needed to be checked out. You must have interrupted him right after he came. Not much was even disturbed except in the office. Do you use that room much?”

“No.” She shivered. That had been her husband’s domain and the place where he had threatened her if she continued to snoop into his activities. After that, she’d avoided his office. “Other than a few important pieces of paper my uncle needed concerning the restaurant chain, I’ve left it as is.” She had been so grateful that her uncle had seen to Axle’s business. She’d wanted to sell it and distance herself as far as possible from what could be an illegal enterprise, but because her husband wasn’t dead, only missing, she couldn’t do anything. But that all changed last week when his body was identified after being found buried on a local animal rescue’s property.

“Your uncle? Tyler Madison? What does he have to do with your husband’s restaurant chain?”

“When Axle wasn’t found, I took over the temporary running of the business. My uncle was the one who helped me and found a top-notch man to run it until Axle turned up.” She stared at the door her attacker had disappeared through only an hour before. “I’m afraid business isn’t my forte. I needed someone who was an expert. Uncle Tyler had the perfect man.”

“Ah, so you don’t know much about your husband’s business?”

She shook her head. Axle had purposefully kept her in the dark about his dealings and finances. “Eating at the restaurants is the extent of my knowledge concerning them. But the business is part of Axle’s estate and my daughter’s legacy.” And she had every intention of selling the chain as soon as she could. She didn’t want her daughter connected in any way to something illegal. With the Texas Rangers suddenly interested in Axle’s business, all her fears that the restaurant chain was somehow tied to criminal activities were validated.

Daniel gestured toward the couch. “What does Axle’s will say? Who stands to gain from your husband’s murder?”

“My daughter, who is five years old. Everything was left to her in a trust. I have a yearly allowance and this house.”

“Did you know the terms of the will before your husband’s death?”

“Yes. But my uncle has provided for me in his will. Besides, I also have the trust my parents set up for me. I didn’t need Axle’s money.” Her only goal was to look out for her daughter and her well-being. Although exhaustion clung to her, she remained standing in spite of Daniel taking a seat. “Are you accusing me of killing my husband?”

“No, should I?”

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