“Yep. Ran the plates on the car he was driving. It’s a rental leased to Patrick Pendleton. I called the rental company this morning—that’s why I’m still here—and they said Pendleton rented this one two days ago.”
“This one?”
“Apparently, he rents a different car every few days.”
“Why?”
“My guess? To stay off our radar. After I got a good look at him last night, I realized I might have seen him a couple days ago on Main Street, driving a different car, of course.”
Robert swore under his breath as he dropped back into his chair. “How long has he been in town?”
“Manager at the Sleepy Inn said this is the third time he’s rented a room in the last four weeks.”
Pendleton had been here in town almost every week since being released from the county jail and Robert hadn’t a clue? His shoulders bunched as the urge to punch something filled him.
How could I have been so stupid?Robert propped his elbows on the desk and plunged his hands into his hair.
He’d been watching his tail for the red Lexus since Pendleton got out of the county jail, because they still had the Infiniti Q50 impounded behind Knight’s repair shop. Robert had never considered Pendleton would drive a rental car. How many times had Pendleton following him and Sylvia to the Double Diamond?
Did Pendleton know where Jessie was? Robert’s stomach bottomed out at the thought.
Dale yawned. “What I can’t figure out is why he was putting up one of Jackson’s campaign signs? I planned to ask Jackson before I got off shift, but I was on the phone with the rental car company and the motel longer than I expected.” He stifled another yawn. “Maybe I’ll have Brady do it.”
“No, I’ll do it,” Robert said.
At the mention of Jackson’s name, Robert turned back to his computer. Jackson had only half a dozen contributions listed on his finance reporting form, but the last one may as well have been in bold with flashing arrows pointing at it.
Ten thousand dollars donated by Patrick Pendleton.
Robert turned his laptop so Dale could see the screen. “Apparently Pendleton is a major contributor to Jackson’s campaign.”
Dale let out a long, low whistle. “Why would Pendleton donate that kind of money to a campaign where he has nothing to gain?”
“He’s making it personal. I think he views me as having taken Jessie away from him. He’s going to great lengths to taunt me, which concerns me. What other plans does he have?”
“Whatever they are, we can’t engage until he does something illegal.”
“I know,” Robert growled. But what happened when they learned Pendleton’s intentions too late?
An hour later, after informing his deputies to keep an eye on Pendleton, Robert pulled to a stop in front of Lewis Jackson’s house. Relieved to see his Pasco City police cruiser still parked in front, Robert slid from his SUV and approached the front door.
He didn’t know Jackson well—they’d never had much occasion to socialize—and he’d only seen him in passing since Jackson announced his intentions to run for sheriff. He didn’t want this to be an awkward situation, but Robert needed to know Pendleton’s end game.
He knocked long and hard to be heard over the baby crying on the other side of the door.
The door opened and Robert smiled at Carrie Jackson, who bounced a red-faced baby on her hip. “Is Lewis at home?”
The petite woman’s eyes widened. “Is something wrong, sheriff?”
“No, not at all. I just have some questions about his campaign.”
Carrie gave him a wary look before asking, “Would you like to come in?”
A toddler started crying behind Carrie as another child darted out of the family room, yelling, “It’s mine. You can’t play with it.”
Robert smiled at Carrie again. “Thank you, but I’ll just wait for him out here.” No need to add to the woman’s stress.
Less than a minute later, Lewis stepped out onto the porch wearing sweatpants and a rumpled t-shirt. “Sheriff?” He wore the same wary expression as his wife.
