“Is this a part-time thing for you?” She smiled as she imagined a beauty contestant would, fluttered her lashes, ignored the two that stuck together. This glamour gig was not as easy as it had looked in the several pageants she’d studied online during her preliminary research. Her research yielded enough ammunition to warrant her entering the pageant. Of all the Arizona pageants, the Ms. Mustang Valley competition reflected the highest number of winners who’d later admitted to having mental illness, an eating disorder, or both. Most had gone public with their struggles once their year’s reign was up, in order to both keep their scholarship intact, yet also provide public outreach to young women who found themselves in the grips of the same vicious diseases.
The security guard cleared his throat and she all but physically shook her head.
Worry about the research later. You’re a contestant right now.
She still wasn’t certain about which talent she’d choose. It was a sad competition between oratory skills, i.e. reading a Samuel Clemens Langhorne or Mark Twain poem, or performing a Hula hoop routine she’d choreographed in seventh grade with Gio to their favorite bubblegum pop hit.
He handed her ID and bag back, the tips of their fingers briefly making contact. “You can step through the metal detector now. The pageant committee is on the stage, in the theater, through the second doors on your right.” His deep voice revealed nothing but professionalism. The security dude wasn’t going to be an ally in her quest to uncover this pageant’s deepest secrets. At least she knew from the start. She wouldn’t waste any more energy on him. There were more important sources to mine.
Bella walked under the metal frame and when the detector didn’t sound, she didn’t look back. Forward was the only direction to achieve some kind of justice for Gio.
Wondering why the fleeting contact with this man moved her more than it should have wasn’t worth her time.
Except, if she found out what else he did for a living, other than work as a pageant security guard, it might make an interesting side item for her investigative piece. She chuckled under her breath as she headed for the auditorium.
* * *
FBI Agent Holden St. Clair took a swig of water as he took his post offstage in the high school theater. The area between the side curtains allowed him to watch each contestant as they were interviewed, observe the pageant board members and keep an eye on the contestants who’d already been interviewed but now were seated on the stage, waiting until the entire process was over. The early birds got to see all of the interviews, which he supposed was some kind of pageant advantage. Holden didn’t care. His job was to keep the building secure. He’d gone back and forth between here and the school entrance for the last eight hours.
It had been a long day.
After all contestants had finished today they’d be asked to leave and then only the ones who received a callback would return tomorrow for the start of the pageant preparation.
He’d had to stifle a laugh when his supervisor had told him he was assigned to work undercover at the Ms. Mustang Valley Pageant. His life experience to date included serving overseas while still in the army, and several different investigations as an FBI agent, including a few serial killer cases, not working as a security guard—even though he was hunting a murderer now.
Something about Mustang Valley was bothering him, ever since he’d driven into the modest-size town. His assignment was straightforward: observe and protect the pageant from the possibility of a serial killer who’d struck at two previous pageants earlier this year in Arizona. He was doing this undercover, with minimal other Law Enforcement Agency, LEA, involvement for now. Besides the director of Arizona pageants, who’d hired him, Holden had an inside LEA connection in town: his army buddy Spencer Colton, who worked at Mustang Valley PD with his K-9 companion Boris. After he’d spoken to Spencer on the phone, they’d met up at a restaurant in Tucson, so that Holden’s cover as a security guard wouldn’t be compromised. Spencer had given him the scoop on Mustang Valley and in particular the high school’s blueprints, security footprint and the background on each of the Ms. Mustang Valley Pageant board members. The pageant board included Hannah Rosenstein, a MVHS Spanish teacher, Selina Barnes Colton—Colton Payne’s ex and a rabid socialite who frankly, from what he’d read, was going to be a real pain in the neck—and several local business owners. So far he’d not found any reason to suspect any of them of wrongdoing but it was his job to remain alert.
Spending time with Spencer had been great and he’d been delighted to find out Spencer had fallen for a woman he planned to spend the rest of his life with. Spencer teased him, said Holden’s turn was coming. Holden blew off Spencer’s sentiments. After being so badly burned by his ex he had no room for anything more than short-lived hookups. Working a serial killer case left no time for that, either.
As much as Spencer assured him that he’d be a perfect fit in Mustang Valley, and that the openness of the citizens would hopefully expose the killer sooner, Holden had been on edge ever since he’d driven into Mustang Valley’s historical downtown. Surrounded by so much Southwest American history, it was easy to forget he was here to investigate a serial killer who preyed upon beauty contestants, redheads in particular. So far all of the Ms. Mustang Valley contestants had been blonde or brunette, and he’d wondered if this pageant might escape the notice of the predator. Until Isabella Colton walked in with those red streaks in her hair. And green eyes, eyes he’d find attractive if he didn’t know they’d be like bull’s-eyes to the killer. Both of the previous victims had red hair, and green eyes.
He made a mental note to let Spencer know that Isabella was applying to compete in the pageant. He assumed it was Spencer’s sister, Bella, that he’d talked about. While the Colton name was huge throughout the country, and especially in Mustang Valley, where one part of the family had made itself a billion-dollar oil empire, he doubted there were many Bella Coltons in this two-horse town. The pageant director, also a Colton, was a typical rich socialite, and he didn’t think she was a close relation to Spencer or his probable sister. Like any other large, extended family, the Coltons had many branches. Spencer was from a modest background, and had been quick to let Holden know it when they were serving together.
“Thank you, Marcie.” The pageant committee chair dismissed the second-to-last contestant to make it in by the deadline. Isabella Colton was the only one who remained.
He’d locked the front doors after scanning Isabella through security. All he had left to do today was observe as the last contestant hopefuls submitted their applications, and survived the board’s initial interview.
It wasn’t an easy task to remain focused. Isabella Colton’s appearance made his gut tighten and put his instincts on high alert. Until the minute she walked through Mustang Valley High’s doors he’d been hopeful that he’d be able to move on to the next Arizona pageant, scheduled for Scottsdale next month. He knew the serial killer he was after had only ever murdered redheads.
All hope that this pageant might be spared what two smaller towns in Northern Arizona had experienced—the brutal deaths of redheaded contestants—evaporated with the swoosh of the school’s front doors behind Isabella Colton.
Holden wished for the first time in his career that he wasn’t undercover. That he could snap his fingers and be the real Holden, for just one conversation with the woman who’d just walked into Mustang Valley High School’s theater. To warn her away, to tell her that she should find another way to pay for her college or whatever she wanted to do with the winner’s prize. But he was undercover, and since his guise was a security guard, his job was to stay quiet and observe. Isabella Colton still had to pass the scrutiny of the pageant review board, so at least there was a chance she’d be turned away either for her age or an incomplete application. She didn’t look older than the thirty-five-year limit, but she wasn’t too young, either.
“Isabella Colton?” Mimi Kingston, the pageant director, called out for the redhead and Colton couldn’t help but do his job thoroughly and make sure he had a good description of Ms. Colton in his mind. At the security checkpoint he’d been focused on the possibility of any of the contestants bringing in a weapon, checking to make sure they weren’t a potential suspect. He’d never investigated a female serial killer but the bureau had several over the years. It happened.
“Bella?” Mimi squeaked out the second syllable, clearly surprised to see the other woman.
“Surprises never cease in Mustang Valley. You know that, Mimi.” Bella placed her application packet on the table that was center stage before returning to the single chair, and sat. He didn’t see her ba
g; she must have left it in the theater seats. Since no one was left other than those onstage, all part of the pageant, it’d be secure. He was impressed. Bella Colton looked more put-together than the majority of the other contestants.
Her golden-red hair was tied up behind her head in one of those fancy styles he’d only ever noticed in the movies. What caught his attention was the creamy pale skin of her nape, where a few wispy tendrils curled. Her top bared her shoulders, revealing a prominent but not unhealthy collarbone. His mouth moistened as his tongue practically experienced how smooth it’d feel under it.
Holden bit down on said tongue and reminded himself he was on duty, and Bella Colton was most likely Spencer’s sister. Holden’s job was to protect the pageant, and if Bella was indeed his buddy’s sibling, it raised the stakes on this operation. Since Payne Colton had been targeted, no Colton was safe.
He watched Bella cross her long legs at the ankles and rest her hands in her lap, her shapely knees fitting perfectly together. Her ankle-length pants were form-fitting and brokered no complaints from him. He liked that her nails were short, though painted bright red. Holden wasn’t a fan of those long, fake nails, and he wondered what Bella did when she wasn’t trying to rustle up a scholarship to Mustang Valley Community College.
“Thank you for your application, Bella. We’re taking turns reviewing it.” Derek McDougal spoke up, the only male on the board. He rustled the second page. “I see you’re a Mustang Valley High graduate. So you’ve known about the pageant, as this is its thirtieth year.” He passed the application packet to the next board member. “While we’re reviewing everything to make sure you qualify, please tell us why you’re here.” Derek looked at Bella as though she were the canary and he the poised house cat.