Page 51 of Texas Cold Case Murder

Approaching the house cautiously, Jackson tried not to consider this a wild-goose chase. A drug arrest from five years ago was hardly probable cause to link Zane Cartland to cold-blooded murder.

He told himself the sooner he verified the guy wasn’t there, the sooner they could get out of there to find a local motel. As the thought went through his mind, he considered it might be smarter to head back toward Dallas, rather than staying in Temple.

Pausing near a tree, he surveyed the windows. Several were not covered by curtains, which was a bonus. After watching for a few seconds, he silently moved in a crouch to the closest uncovered window.

Peering through the opening, he found himself looking at a large king bed. It was neatly made, clean and obviously empty. The decor was on the frilly side, something he could imagine Evelyn Cartland choosing, not twenty-six-year-old Zane. Were the elder Cartlands out of town for the weekend? Maybe.

He moved along the side of the house to the next window. That one was covered, so he moved on. Soon he was looking into the living room. Again, it was neat and tidy. Remembering himself at that age, he found it difficult to imagine Zane keeping the place looking so nice while his parents were gone.

He doubted Zane was still living there. Yet while he was here, he moved on to the next window.

This bedroom had curtains pulled across the opening. There was a narrow gap, but it was hard to see into the room in the dark. He thought it was a bedroom but couldn’t visualize enough of the bed to determine if it had been slept in recently. For all they knew, the Cartlands used it as a guest room. A place for Zane to sleep if he came home for the holiday.

He was about to head to the front of the house when his phone vibrated in his pocket. Pressing his back to the brick wall, he pulled the device out to peer at the screen.

Headlights, take cover.

Sinking lower to the ground, Jackson glanced toward the road along the front of the house. Sure enough, a vehicle was approaching from the same direction they’d come.

He waited as the headlights grew brighter. Then they pulled into the driveway.

Jackson’s heart slammed against his rib cage. Either the Cartlands had arrived, or their son Zane was using the place.

Moving quickly, he lightly ran along the length of the attached garage. He needed to see who was in the car!

He made it to the front corner, just as the engine shut down. The garage door didn’t open, which he found strange.

Taking a deep breath, he peeked around the edge of the garage. The driver of the car sat behind the wheel for a moment, looking down and to the right. He frowned, trying to figure out what the guy was doing. Looking at a phone?

Then the figure behind the wheel straightened and he realized the driver was a woman. He pulled back when she glanced in his direction.

Probably Evelyn Cartland. Although he wasn’t sure why she was coming home at this hour. A quick glance at his watch confirmed it was five minutes after four in the morning.

He didn’t hear a car door, which was also strange. Then it dawned on him. She was waiting for someone.

He took another quick glance around the corner. The car was a dark sedan. From this angle he couldn’t see the make or model, but it looked sleek and expensive. The woman’s head was down again, and this time he could make out the glow of a phone screen.

Definitely waiting for someone. He frowned, trying to understand why she’d be sitting in her own driveway, waiting for another person to arrive.

Her husband? Had she forgotten the house key?

Or maybe the woman wasn’t Evelyn Cartland at all.

Torn by indecision, he debated his options. Stay here to wait for the second party? Or head back to the car so they could drive past to get a license plate.

A third option was for him to crawl from the corner of the garage to the rear of the car to see the license plate for himself.

Before he could move one way or the other, another pair of headlights hit his peripheral vision. As it was too late to escape, Jackson flattened himself against the wall of the garage, holding his breath.

Hoping and praying he’d recognize the newcomer as one of the gunmen. Or better yet, Zane Cartland.

FOURTEEN

“Creed, I found the same law firm of Kimbal and Wilson represented both Zane Cartland and the dead man, Kirk Fletcher.” Nina had continued digging into a connection between the two men. As she stared at the name Corrine Kimbal, she wondered why it sounded familiar. “Do you think that’s significant?”

“Kimbal and Wilson?” Creed met her gaze in the rearview mirror. “They’re the high-powered defense firm representing Diego Sanchez. One of the main lawyers is a woman named Corrine Kimbal.”

“Really? She’s listed as the attorney of record for these guys, too. That means she was doing defense work for guys with drug-related arrests for years.” Stunned, she gaped at him. “This is related to the trial. Not my mother’s cold case murder.”