Page 8 of Texas Cold Case Murder

When the coast was clear, he turned his attention to Nina. She’d been curled in a ball behind him during the exchange, covering her ears with her hands.

“Did you get them?” Her voice was little more than a croak as she staggered to her feet. He caught her arm, drawing her close. She was trembling again, so he wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

“No, sorry. But they’re gone. You’re safe, Nina.” For now, he thought. But not forever.

He wasn’t sure what in the world Nina had stumbled into, but it was clear this wasn’t your run-of-the-mill suicide.

No, there was something big going on here. What, he had no idea.

“Can we get my car?” Nina asked.

He hesitated, then shook his head. “Let’s wait. I’m concerned they may have rigged the car in some way.”

Her eyes widened in horror. “You think so?”

“I don’t know what to think.” And wasn’t that the truth? Thankfully, the sirens were louder now, so he felt certain the deputies would be there any minute. He took Nina’s hand, keeping her close to his side.

“Now what?” Nina asked, her voice a whisper.

“We wait for the police. I also need to call this in.” He pulled his phone and dialed his boss, Captain John Owens.

It was time to convince their captain the rangers needed to take over this case. Not that he didn’t trust the locals; he did. At least, to a certain extent. He had no reason to suspect them of being involved.

Yet Nina was one of their own. Any member of their team who happened to stumble into danger deserved to have the full weight of the Texas Rangers backing them up. Especially when the bad guys had come out in full force.

No matter how he looked at it, there was something rotten going on here. Something way bigger than a staged suicide.

Jackson wasn’t going to rest until he understood exactly who those gunmen were, and why they wanted Nina dead.

THREE

Nina wasn’t sure why Jackson had dragged her back into the woods, but did her best to remain calm, listening as he left a terse message for their boss about the need to take over the case of her uncle’s death and the subsequent shooting by two gunmen. The sirens grew louder, indicating the police were close. She was glad to know the local law enforcement officers would be there soon, but she was still worried about whether the gunman had done something to her car.

Jackson quickly ended his one-sided call, then stood to step out of the woods as two sheriff’s deputy vehicles bounced up the rutted driveway. She followed him into the clearing, anxious for this nightmare to be over. Nina shivered, wishing she could go back home.

Or at least to her motel room. She’d arranged for a place to stay in Tyler, thinking she and her Uncle Mark would spend the weekend together.

Instead, she’d have to help plan his funeral.

“Are you Ranger Woodlow?” one of the deputies asked. His name tag read Deputy Green.

“Yes, thanks for coming out so quickly.” Jackson turned to her. “This is Nina Dobson. She’s the technical analyst for the Rangers. This is her uncle’s cabin.”

Nina stepped forward. “I recently found my Uncle Mark Lange through a DNA match. I was adopted as a baby, after my mother was murdered. Her case was never solved.” She gestured to the cabin. “My uncle indicated he may be responsible for what happened to my mother twenty-eight years ago, and would only talk to me in person, not over the phone.” As she said the words, a sudden thought hit. Where was her uncle’s phone? Likely somewhere in the cabin. She brought herself back on task. “I—uh, when I showed up for our meeting, I found my uncle dead from what looked like a staged suicide.”

“Staged?” the deputy scoffed. “Are you a crime scene expert?”

She hoped the darkness hid her flush. “No, but shortly after I arrived a gunman showed up. I managed to escape out the back. He shot at me as I disappeared into the woods.”

The second deputy, a big, bald man wearing a name tag that read Sewell, appeared as skeptical of her story as Green was. “Why would some guy take shots at you?”

“I have no idea. But I’m sure it has something to do with my uncle’s murder.” She stressed the last word.

“I believe Nina is right about the suicide being staged,” Jackson drawled. It irked her that both deputies turned to face him, as if his badge gave him more clout. Which she supposed it did. “I happened to be in Dallas and was able to drive over here to meet Nina. We were in my SUV driving back toward this cabin when a truck approached and opened fire. We ended up abandoning the SUV and heading into the woods. We hid in the trees and watched as the truck returned and peppered more slugs into the SUV with what can only be described as a serious intent to finish us off.”

Deputy Green and Deputy Sewell glanced at each other. “That was your damaged vehicle we passed along the side of the road?” Sewell asked.

“Yep.” Jackson’s expression was grim. “After that, we made our way through the woods here, back to the cabin for Nina’s car. Soon after I called 911 to report the suicide/murder, we heard the truck returning and hid in the woods again. The two gunmen got out of the truck and looked around the area for us. Both wore jeans—one black, one blue—and long-sleeved Western-style shirts and baseball caps pulled low on their forehead. They also carried semiautomatic weapons. They left when they heard your sirens. I tried to get a license number, but the rear plate was covered in mud. I can say it was a large black or dark gray Ram truck.”