Patrick resisted the urge to throw a few choice words at the burly mechanic and retreated to his hideous rental car.
He headed in the direction of the sheriff’s office he’d seen on Main Street on his previous visits to this backwoods town. Hopefully, he wouldn’t run into Winters today. He wouldn’t put it past the hillbilly sheriff to arrest him again out of spite.
When his lawyer suggested Patrick sue the sheriff’s department for police brutality, he’d been all too eager to sign that.
The blood drained from Patrick’s face as a familiar SUV with black and gold lettering on the side pulled out from behind the sheriff’s office. His grip on the steering wheel tightened. There was the man who’d destroyed Patrick’s life.
Patrick rubbed his jaw that was still a little tender from the beating he’d suffered at the hands of the man. He ached to repay the cowboy Casanova, but another physical altercation with Winters would only land Patrick in more hot water. No, he needed to find a way to take the sheriff down a notch. Strike at him in a way he wouldn’t expect.
Making a U-turn, Patrick followed Winters to a diner across the street from the repair shop that had his car. He parked in the corner of the parking lot and watched Casanova go inside.Great. He’ll probably be here for at least an hour.
A whole hour that he wasn’t at home. Patrick sat up a little straighter. If the sheriff was here, that meant he wasn’t guarding Jessie.
The man wasn’t dumb enough to leave Jessica at the cabin again. Alone and unprotected. So, he probably brought her back to his house. It wouldn’t surprise him if Jessie was sleeping with the man again already.
Patrick had always doubted Jessica’s innocence. No one that gorgeous was as sweet and innocent as she’d acted when they were dating. Of course, he’d changed that. Jessica wasn’t innocent anymore.
He cruised the sheriff’s street twice before stopping a couple of houses away from Casanova’s home. He sat in his car for a full five minutes, checking out the neighborhood, before getting out. He walked straight to the sheriff’s backyard to avoid being seen by nosy neighbors.
It didn’t take more than a few minutes of peeking through the windows on the back side of the house to know there was no one in there. Only one room, the master bedroom—judging by its size and furniture in there—had any kind of window coverings, and they were open enough for Patrick to see the room had no occupants.
After checking for gawking neighbors, he quickly peeked in each of the front windows. One room was completely empty, except for a few boxes, and the other had a desk and an office chair. The third window, the front room, revealed no movement inside.
He peeked into a couple of basement windows. Other than more boxes and exercise equipment, the basement was empty and unfinished.
Patrick stepped away from the house and cursed. He was certain the sheriff had brought Jessica back here.
She must be at her mother’s.
Like a man on a mission, he returned to his car and drove to Sylvia’s house. He did a similar sweep of her neighborhood as he had on Casanova’s street, before darting to Sylvia’s back yard.
The shrubbery and lengthening evening shadows gave him plenty of opportunity to watch her prepare and eat a solitary dinner before doing some light house cleaning. When she turned off the kitchen light, and he could no longer see her from the backyard, he returned to his car and parked across the street from her house.
He’d just spotted Sylvia reading in a recliner when a police cruiser turned onto the street. Patrick laid his seat back and ducked out of sight. The stench of who knows what kind of bodily fluids in the back seat hit him, and he gagged. He sat his seat upright again as soon as it was safe.
He continued to watch Sylvia for quite some time, but it was obvious she was alone. Not a single other light was on in the house. He considered breaking in and making her tell him where Jessica was, but that was the last thing he needed to add to the list of charges against him.
Patrick pounded the steering wheel with the side of his fist. He’d been sure Jessica was here or at the sheriff’s house. He wanted her out of this hillbilly town and back where she belonged. She owed him. She had disobeyed him one too many times and for that, she would pay.
But it would have to wait. If he wasn’t at work on Monday morning, he would lose his job. One more thing he would exact payment from Jessica for.
Another Sheriff’s cruiser turned down the street, deciding for him. He tugged his baseball cap lower and turned his head when the car passed, then he started the disgusting rental car.
Patrick didn’t think the sheriff was dumb enough to leave Jessica at that cabin by herself again, but he’d drive by just to make sure before heading home. He yawned, not looking forward to the drive to Seattle before he could shower off the filth that clung to him like a second skin. One shower wouldn’t be enough.
Tomorrow, he would rest up, determine exactly what he needed to do to keep his job, and figure out how to get Jessica back.
Chapter 22
Robert pulled his cell phone from his pocket as he stepped through his front door. “What’s up, Brady?”
It wasn’t terribly late, but he was exhausted. It had been a long week, and the last thing he needed was an emergency.
“I just spotted a driver of a brown Honda who looked an awful lot like that Pendleton fellow. He wore a baseball cap, so I can’t be sure.”
Every muscle in Robert’s body tensed. It had only been a week since they’d booked Patrick into the county jail.With a bail of half a million dollars, he can’t be out already, can he?
Was he back to do what he’d failed to accomplish last time? Did he know where Jessie was?
