She chuckled. “Well…maybe one.” Before he could ask anything more, she kissed him again and then said, “Help me put on my jacket, Dawson, and then I’ll tell you my plan.”
TWENTY
Two hours later, Peyton popped a piece of candy into her mouth and flipped to the next page of Marvis Harrison's criminal file. She'd borrowed a desk at the Knoxville Police Department, and the stack of paperwork in front of her painted a picture that was far more troubling than she'd expected.
On paper, Marvis Harrison looked like a garden-variety thug, but the deeper Peyton dug, the more the pattern shifted. Every arrest had been plea-bargained down, and the sentences reduced. Witnesses recanted. Evidence went missing. He’d even skated out of a second-degree murder charge when the only witness disappeared two days before trial. He was either the luckiest criminal in Texas, or he was far more dangerous than he initially appeared.
Dawson leaned over the wall of her cubicle and stole a candy. “Whatcha working on?”
“Looking into Marvis. He’s smart and crafty, but according to our information, he hasn’t belonged to the Iron Serpents for very long. So how has he been able to challenge Cade for leadership? It didn’t make sense to me. Until I found this.” She rummaged through some papers and pulled one out. “Larry Owens was theoriginal boss of the Iron Serpents. Well, guess what? Marvis is his son.”
Dawson whistled. “Wow. How did we miss this?”
“It took a while to connect the dots. Marvis was raised by his mother in Waco. The only connection I found was buried in a decade-old arrest report from when Marvis was eighteen. His mother listed Larry Owens as his biological father on the emergency contact form.” She tapped the paper in Dawson’s hand. “After Larry died, Cade took over. But if Marvis believes leadership should have passed to him by blood, that could cause a turf war.”
Dawson took another candy, his expression darkening. “It would also split the gang members. Some would agree that Larry’s son has a rightful claim.”
“Exactly. I don’t believe for a second Marvis was telling the truth about being ordered to kidnap Grace. He was acting on his own behalf. He wants to take Cade down.” Peyton shifted carefully in her chair, the stitches pulling.
Propped up on the desk was an arrest photo of Marvis. Lanky, with unevenly cut brown hair and boyish cheeks, he looked like a mischievous teen. Disarming and harmless. But the cold calculation behind his dark eyes was all too familiar. She’d seen that look before in experienced criminals. The blue and red tattoo on his neck was fully visible in the mugshot, a serpent coiled around a dagger.
A shudder raced across her skin. It was terrifying to think this man had nearly gotten his hands on Grace.
Dawson’s attention drifted to the windows overlooking the parking lot as he stole another piece of her candy. She smacked his hand away, but was too late to save her chocolate. He jerked his chin. “Looks like your plan worked.”
She rose and turned in time to see the front doors of the police department fly open.
“You can’t do this! He has rights!” Sandra’s angry voice bellowed across the bullpen as she followed her boyfriend, Bobby, who was being escorted in handcuffs. The Iron Serpent member sported a fresh scrape on his chin and a nasty scowl. Tucker held a tight grip on the man’s arm. His uniform was wrinkled, his shirt half untucked.
Trailing behind the group was Liam. His cowboy hat was missing, and mud stained the front of his shirt. He glowered at Peyton and Dawson. “Bobby ran. We had to chase him clear across the trailer park.” He lifted a set of clear evidence bags. One held white pills and the other a gun. “He had these on him.”
Sandra, blocked from following Bobby to the holding cell by Hayley, whirled to face Peyton. Her expression was thunderous, the scent of gin and desperation pouring from her. “Did you do this, Princess Peyton?” Her words slurred. “You set Bobby up, didn’t you? He was just minding his own business.”
Liam rolled his eyes. “He was doing fifty in a school zone.”
“Everyone speeds there!” Sandra was moving from angry to irate, and as she stepped up aggressively toward the detective, Peyton stepped between them.
“Come with me, Aunt Sandra. Maybe there’s something I can do to help Bobby get out of this mess.” She steered her aunt toward an interview room, noting the dirty bandage on Sandra’s wrist and the dark bruise along her jaw. Anger twisted her insides, but she kept her tone even. “It looks like you got hurt recently. Do you need to see a doctor?”
Sandra’s gaze skittered away as she tossed her tote bag on the table and mumbled,“I fell. I’m fine.”
A lie. Bobby was beating her. But Peyton was wise enough to let the matter drop. She needed her aunt’s cooperation, and accusing her deadbeat boyfriend of more crimes wasn’t the way to do it. Instead, she asked, “Can I get you some water? Or a soda?”
“A soda. Cold.” She rummaged around in her bag. “And a cup.”
Peyton rolled her eyes, already knowing where this was going, but did her aunt’s bidding anyway. When she came out of the break room, Dawson was waiting next to the interrogation room door. Broad-shouldered and more handsome than any man had a right to be. Her breath caught when their gazes met, and the memory of their kiss in the hospital a few hours ago rose unbidden in her mind.
A distraction. One she couldn’t indulge in.
“Need me to go in with you?” His dark eyes held sympathy, but no pity.
“No. I think she’ll say more if it’s just the two of us.” Peyton smiled, touched that he asked. “But thanks for the offer.”
Dawson touched her shoulder briefly. “I’ll be watching from the audio-visual room.” He leaned closer, his breath whispering across her earlobe. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”
The fierce pride in his voice warmed her straight through. She took a moment to admire the view of him walking down the hall before she drew in a breath, straightened her shoulders, and entered the interview room. Sandra had unearthed an electronic cigarette from her purse along with a crumpled water bottle that almost certainly was filled with a clear type of alcohol.
“You need to tell those cops to let Bobby go.” Sandra cradled her injured wrist to her chest, watching as Peyton set the sodas down on the table with suspicion. “He didn’t do nothin’ wrong.”
