Page 52 of Texas Cold Case Murder

“We don’t know that for sure,” Creed cautioned. “But it’s a connection we can’t ignore.”

“I wonder if she represented other drug traffickers.” Corrine would surely be too young to have been involved with her Uncle Mark. But she made a mental note to check just the same.

“Hey, there’s another set of headlights approaching Cartland house,” Creed said urgently. “I don’t like this.”

“Is this some sort of meeting?” Nina looked at her watch. It had been ten minutes since Jackson had gone to check the place out. Ten long, brutal minutes. “I need to check on Jackson.” Without waiting for Creed’s inevitable protest, she pushed out of the back seat.

“Nina, wait,” Creed hissed softly. Ignoring him, she closed the door and sprinted toward the opening between the two houses that Jackson had used earlier.

Her reason for heading out was twofold. One to be there if Jackson needed her, the other was to let him know this was likely related to the trial. Maybe her Uncle Mark had been eliminated because of his previous drug trafficking. Maybe his release had upset the drug kingpin. She’d been so sure Uncle Mark had been silenced because of her mother’s murder.

No wonder Jackson and Creed had recommended she keep an open mind.

She ran to the house, staying low. There was no sign of Jackson, and she realized he was probably at the front of the property, trying to see who was in the vehicles.

A moment later, Creed came up beside her, holding his weapon in hand. He scowled at her, then whispered, “Stay behind me.”

Agreeing with a brief nod, she hung back so he could take the lead. The last thing she wanted to do was to put Jackson or Creed in harm’s way. Yet she couldn’t just sit in the car doing nothing, either.

Where else had she heard the name Corrine Kimbal? The nagging memory wouldn’t materialize in her mind.

Creed moved silently along the back of the house. She followed close behind. The windows remained dark, but she knew the occupants could wake up at any time.

As they crept around the corner of the garage, she breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Jackson. He, in turn, was not at all happy to see her.

Jackson jerked his head, as if instructing Creed to get her out of there. Creed shrugged and edged closer.

“What happened?” A shrill female voice cut through the silence of the night. Nina belatedly realized one of the occupants of the car had gotten out. “Why haven’t you gotten rid of her yet?”

Her? Meaning Nina? Her eyes widened in shock. Creed and Jackson exchanged a glance.

“They killed Fletch. I’m lucky to have escaped alive.” The much younger male voice sounded annoyed. “You need to hire someone else. I’m out.”

“You’re not finished until I say you are.” Venom dripped from the woman’s voice. “Don’t forget you owe me. The job needs to be done and soon.”

There was no immediate response, and Nina envisioned the two people were glaring at each other. Then Jackson leaned toward Creed.

“Let’s take them,” he whispered.

Creed nodded, then turned his gaze to her. He pulled the key fob from his pocket, pressing it into her hand. “Go back to the SUV. We may need backup.”

She didn’t want to leave, but understood she wasn’t armed and therefore was a hindrance to them. Especially if that woman had really indicated Nina was the actual target.

Without protest, she turned to retrace her steps. She was halfway to the car when she heard shouting. Jackson and Creed were announcing their presence.

She hadn’t heard gunfire, but a sense of urgency had her sprinting the last few yards. Reaching the SUV, she wrenched the car door open and slid behind the wheel. She lost precious seconds moving the seat up to accommodate her shorter stature, then hit the gas, sending the SUV lurching forward.

Driving around the block, she saw a black sedan leaving the Cartland home. Without taking the time to consider her actions, she deliberately rammed into it, the front end of her SUV striking the side panel of the other car.

Pain hit her squarely in the face as her airbags deployed. For a moment she was blind, unable to see anything beyond the shattered windshield.

Then the shouts grew louder. “I’m Texas Ranger Woodlow! Get out of the car! Keep your hands where I can see them!”

Nina lifted her hands, still trying to clear her blurred vision until she realized Jackson wasn’t talking to her. He was speaking to the occupant of the other car.

“Get out of the car, slowly,” Jackson said in a warning tone. “Don’t make any sudden moves or I’ll shoot.”

“What is this about?” The female voice from earlier sounded confused. “My car was hit, not the other way around. You have no cause to order me to do anything. I’m not responsible for this crash. The maniac in the other car is.”