Her breath hitched. She scanned his face, finally meeting his gaze. “I never thought of it like that before.”
“Maybe you should.”
Ten
Debra Channing’s rental house was in a quiet neighborhood close to the university. The one-story would be classified as a fixer-upper in real estate terms. The shutters needed paint and weeds had taken over the flower beds. A broken tire swing dangled from a large oak tree in the front yard.
Avery dropped out of Weston’s truck. She took a deep breath of the crisp air. Their conversation from this morning lingered, slipping into her thoughts. Weston’s words had soothed a raw nerve. She’d been so busy berating herself over the relationship with Jeffrey, she hadn’t considered an alternate view. One in which her core values—those of kindness and grace—had been used against her.
Weston circled the vehicle, settling his Stetson over his dark hair. Paired with the cowboy boots and the badge pinned to his shirt, he was the quintessential image of a Texas Ranger. Avery had never had a thing for cowboys, but Weston made her second-guess everything about herself.
“Mike’s not here yet,” Weston observed, bringing her attention back to where it belonged. On the case.
Avery unzipped her jacket pocket and checked her phone. “He sent me a message saying we should go on ahead. He’s going to be a few minutes late. Do you have the code to the lockbox?”
Debra’s rental house had already been searched, relevant evidence taken, and fingerprints collected. The property had been turned back over to the owner.
Weston nodded. “I’ve got the code. The homeowner said Debra’s parents are coming next week to clear the house out. We can come back as often as we need until then. She’s not showing it to potential renters until next month.”
They started up the drive. The rumble of a mail truck turning the corner caught her attention. Avery lifted a hand to shield her gaze from the sun. The man sitting behind the driver’s seat was familiar. Mid-thirties with thinning blond hair and a gym rat’s physique. Tom Bevin. His route covered her house as well as the police station on campus.
“Hey, Weston, give me a second. I want to talk to the mailman.” She reversed course and Weston fell into step beside her. They were standing at the mailbox when the truck drove up. Avery greeted the man behind the wheel. “Hey there, Tom.”
“Hi, Avery.” He flashed her a bright smile before he seemed to realize which house she was standing in front of. His gaze flickered from her to Weston and then back again. “Suppose you want Debra Channing’s mail.”
“Figured I take it into the house.” She gestured to Weston standing next to her. “This is Texas Ranger Weston Donovan.”
“Pleasure.” Tom shook his hand, then dug in the box next to him for Debra’s mail. He handed the letters and a local grocery flyer to Avery. “I heard about the murder on the news. Shame what happened to Debra. She was a real nice lady.”
“Did you know her?”
“We hung out a time or two. Nothing serious, but she was very sweet. Baked some cookies for me at Christmas time.” He tapped a thumb against the steering wheel. “The family should put a stop hold on her mail. If you speak to them, could you mention it?”
“I will.” She flipped through the letters. Nothing but bills. “Ever notice anyone in the neighborhood that didn’t belong recently?”
Tom frowned. “No, but I spotted Debra’s ex-boyfriend a time or two in the neighborhood. Not at her house, just riding his motorcycle on the streets. His name is Victor Haas. I mentioned it to Debra because I know she was trying to stay away from him. He wasn’t a nice guy.”
Avery’s heart picked up speed. The thief at the university who’d shot at them escaped on a motorcycle. “What kind of motorcycle does Victor have?”
“A Kawasaki Ninja. Black with green trim.”
“Do you happen to know the license plate?”
“No, but you might check with Patrick Harpy, the owner of the gas station at the front of the neighborhood. I saw Victor filling up there…ummm, must’ve been Thursday afternoon.” Tom glanced at his watch. “Hey, I gotta finish my route.”
Avery stepped back. “Thanks for talking with us.”
“No problem. And please don’t forget to mention the stop mail to her family.” Tom put the truck into gear and kept moving down the street.
Avery waited until he was out of hearing range. “We need to get camera footage from the gas station. Maybe it’ll give us a plate number. If Victor does have a motorcycle, he could be the one who shot at us the other night.”
“Agreed. I’ll call Grady and have him pull it.” Weston squinted at the house. “Trouble is, that doesn’t tie Victor to the murders. And while he has motive for killing Debra—from all accounts, their relationship was abusive—I can’t see why he would murder Marianne Jenkins. Or target you.”
“Maybe he’s trying to hide the real motive for Debra’s murder?” Avery tapped the letters against her hand. “Victor’s had some run-ins with the law. He knows his way around the system, and he’s friendly with criminals. Killing Debra would immediately put him on the top of the suspect list. By staging the scene in the classroom, writing the notes, killing Marianne…that muddies the water and confuses the case.”
“That’s a lot of work just to create reasonable doubt. Far simpler to have an alibi. Still, it’s worth considering. We’ll keep following the evidence and have an open mind.”
Weston and Avery followed the walkway around to the backyard. The gate was unlocked. Patches of dead grass fluttered in the cold air. The lock box was hanging from a water spigot and hidden behind a bush. Weston keyed
