Renegade (Tin Star K9 Series Book 1) by Jodi Burnett (literature books to read .txt) 📗

cell to squeak. She leaned back into the corner of the brick wall and closed her eyes. Her head ached. Strapped to her chest in a sling, her injured arm throbbed. The pain medication the emergency doctor gave her did little to help. She had a concussion which prevented her from taking stronger pain relief. Although her elbow was sprained, Caitlyn was grateful her joint wasn’t broken. The doctor instructed her not to look at any screens and not to read. He even said not to concentrate on anything too hard.

Screen time wasn’t a problem while she was in the jail, but she couldn’t help trying to figure out how she ended up there. It sickened her to know that her gun might be the murder weapon—but how could that be possible? Caitlyn was certain her Glock had been locked in her truck’s safe when the murder took place. But of course, there was no way to prove that. It made perfect sense that the casing had her fingerprint on it, though. After all, she loaded the magazine. Caitlyn drew her bottom lip in between her teeth and concentrated on the facts of the case. She tried not to worry that she had no alibi for the time of the murder. She’d been driving home—alone—in her truck and had seen no one after she left her parents’ house that Friday night until Sunday morning. She’d spent Saturday home alone, doing chores and working on her property. The only one who could corroborate her whereabouts was Renegade.

“Sheriff? I’d like to call my attorney.” Caitlyn stood and gripped the bars of her cell door with her good hand. Her head spun from standing too fast.

Sheriff Tackett sat at his desk and regarded her. “Of course. We’ll get to that as soon as I finish my paperwork here.”

He seemed pleased to have her behind bars, and Caitlyn knew it was going to be a fight to gain her freedom. She didn’t kill Wendy, but trivial facts like that didn’t seem to matter to the sheriff. Not as long as he had someone on the hook for the crime—either Dylan or her.

The front door to the office swung open and Colt pushed his way in, laden with a large brown paper bag and two to-go cups. “We didn’t finish our coffee this morning, and even prisoners need to be fed.” He flashed her a half-smile, but it was less than convincing when no warmth glowed from his expression. The thought that Colt could believe her to be a murderer pierced her heart. How could he possibly think she was capable of killing someone in cold blood?

“Thanks, the coffee smells wonderful.” She peered into his eyes, trying to read what was going on in his mind as she reached through the bars for the cup.

He looked away and busied himself with the cinnamon rolls. “I didn’t get you anything, Sheriff. I figured you probably already had breakfast.”

Sheriff Tackett grunted and opened the filing cabinet. After stuffing a few papers into folders, he stood. “I’ll just step out and get my own. Keep a close eye on our prisoner until I come back.”

After he went out, Colt pulled a chair over to the bars of the cell. He handed Caitlyn her pastry before sitting down with his own.

“How’s Ren?” Caitlyn’s heart ached with wanting to see her dog. “Is he going to be okay?”

“I left him with the vet. The doc was getting ready to take x-rays and remove the glass from his paws. He promised to call when he had any information. We’ll just have to wait.”

“My poor guy. He faced a brutal beating, all for my sake. He didn’t deserve that.” Caitlyn’s voice wavered with emotion, so she took a long swallow of hot coffee to soothe her throat.

“Catie, you swore to me your gun was locked in your truck.”

“You can’t possibly believe I had anything to do with Wendy’s murder. Can you?”

“How do you explain the evidence?”

“The fact that Wendy was killed with a 9mm doesn’t mean much. That’s a common type of firearm. I’ve been thinking about it, though. If my gun is the murder weapon, then it makes sense that my fingerprint is on the casing. I’m the one who loaded the magazine. But I didn’t kill Wendy! What motive could I possibly have had?” Desperation clawed up Caitlyn’s throat.

Colt wrinkled his brow. “They’re working on the full ballistics test. But the sheriff is certain your gun is the murder weapon. You told me you had it locked in the safe inside your truck, and that no one knew the combination besides you and your dad. Are you one hundred percent sure no one else knows it? Dylan maybe?”

Caitlyn sighed and propped her chin in her palm. “I’m sure.” She raised her gaze to Colt. “Sheriff Tackett found the casing at the scene. I saw him pick it up. But tell me, who discovered the bullet? Was it the CSI or the coroner?”

“It was the CSI. I’ll check the chain of custody and find out each step it went through. But what we really need to know is who else could have gained access to your gun.”

They finished the rest of their breakfast in silence, both quietly mulling over the case. When they were done eating, Colt collected the trash and stuffed it into the waste bin. He pointed toward the back of the room. “I’ll be right back, I’m going to go check the evidence room and see what I can find out.” He left through a secured door.

Ten minutes later, Colt rushed back into the office. “Catie, I found something interesting.”

She jumped to her feet. “What is it?”

“Sharing this with you could cost me my job, but something is off about the evidence.” Hopeful excitement filled his eyes, and he pressed on. “The normal chain of custody for evidence begins with the officers first on scene. Then they turn the scene over to CSI. Any evidence they find is