Lawman With A Cause

“Hold on,” Egan warned her. Keeping low, he started his truck, threw it into Reverse and jammed his foot on the accelerator.

The sudden jolt of motion knocked Jordan against the seat. Hard. Her head hit, too, and the pain jolted through her. Still, feeling the awful pain was better than being shot again, but they weren’t out of the woods yet.

A third bullet smacked into the windshield, and she could have sworn it missed Egan by less than an inch. The bullet went into the headrest next to where he was hunched down.

Jordan lifted her head to get a better look at the vehicle. It was the same truck, all right. And the person inside obviously wanted to have another go at killing her. The guy had the driver’s-side window down, and he had a gun sticking out.

“I can’t see his face,” Jordan said. Because there was a dark tint on the windows. It didn’t help, either, that the driver had on the high beams, and they were shining right in her eyes.

“Don’t make it easy for him to shoot you,” Egan snarled. He shoved her back down, and he kept speeding down the road in Reverse.

Jordan wanted to remind him that she was a PI and former cop. She could return fire. However, at the moment that might not even be true. She was dizzy from the pain, and her hands were shaking. It was possible she couldn’t even hit the truck, much less the driver.

There was the sound of tires squealing against the asphalt, and Jordan knew what that meant. “He’s coming after us.”

Egan didn’t confirm that, but since the shots had stopped, it told her that the driver might be the sole person in the truck. If so, it was a gutsy move on his part to go after two armed and trained people. Then again, the guy did have them on the run, and that driver had a lot more control over his vehicle right now than Egan did. It was easier to drive forward than in Reverse, but there was no place for them to turn around on the narrow road.

“Call nine-one-one,” Egan ordered. “I want backup. But not the ambulance. Once we’re out of this, I’ll get you to the hospital.”

Seeing a doctor was the least of her concerns right now, and Jordan made the call for backup. The problem wouldn’t be getting someone out here because they weren’t that far from town. But Egan was literally taking up most of the road, and it would make it hard for the deputies to get in position to help them. Still, she wasn’t sure how much longer Egan could keep this up.

Jordan had just finished the call when she felt the jolt. The other truck had slammed into them. Hard. She heard the sound of metal scraping against metal. Unless the second truck had a reinforced bumper, he could be doing as much damage to his vehicle as he was to theirs.

Egan was still low in the seat, using the side mirror to navigate, but he had to adjust so he could better grip the steering wheel when the driver came at them again. If he hadn’t done that, they would have gone into the ditch. It hadn’t rained recently so it wasn’t filled with water, but they’d still probably get stuck. Then, they’d be sitting ducks for the shooter.

The memories came. They always did whenever Jordan had a gun in her hand. That wasn’t exactly an asset for a private investigator—to have the memories come at her so fast and strong that it put her on the verge of a panic attack. It was the reason she didn’t wear a badge any longer. It was also the reason her life, and her head, were a mess.

If Drew Paxton was behind this, then he was getting a good laugh right now. Not only was he trying to “kill” any living piece of Shanna, he might manage to take out the man Shanna had loved. Of course, Jordan felt as if she had already managed to “take out” Egan. Shanna’s death had crushed him.

And Jordan was responsible for that.

Drew had been aiming at Jordan to finish her off when he’d fired that deadly shot. But he hadn’t hit his target. Because Shanna had jumped in front of Jordan at the worst possible moment. And now Shanna was dead from a gunshot wound to the head, and Jordan was alive. Egan would never forgive her for that, and she’d never forgive herself.

The memories thankfully moved to the back of her mind when the truck crashed into them. Egan had to fight with the steering wheel again, and it didn’t help when the driver rammed into them a fourth time. He would almost certainly continue to do that, too, until he disabled the engine, forcing them to stop. Then, he could try to use his gun on them to finish this.

“Hold on,” Egan repeated to her.

Jordan lifted her head again so she could get a glimpse out the windshield, but the glass was so cracked and webbed that it was hard to see anything. She certainly couldn’t tell if the guy was about to hit them again.

But she did hear the squeal of his tires.

Not the other truck’s but Egan’s. Egan hit the brakes, and in the same motion, he turned the steering wheel, backing onto what appeared to be a ranch trail. It was gravel, and the rocks pelted the undercarriage. The sound was deafening, like being bombarded with bullets, but it wasn’t loud enough to drown out the other driver hitting his brakes, as well.

Now that they were both stopped, Jordan figured either Egan or she would have a shot. Of course, so would the driver of that truck. That was probably why Egan got his window down in a hurry. Before Jordan could even sit up, Egan got off two shots.

Jordan lowered her window, too, and she tried to steady her hand enough to take aim. She didn’t get a chance to do that, though.

“What the hell,” Egan mumbled.

The other truck’s door flew open. Not on the driver’s side, either. But the passenger’s. Maybe she’d been wrong about the shooter being the only person inside the vehicle.

And then something fell from that opened door.

It was too dark to tell exactly what it was, but Jordan thought maybe it was a person. If it was someone, Jordan figured he or she would get up and start shooting at Egan and her.

But that didn’t happen.

The driver of the other truck slammed on the accelerator, leaving the other person behind. Jordan braced herself for the truck to hit them again. It didn’t. The driver sped off, heading in the direction of town.

She could practically feel the debate Egan was having with himself as to what to do. He volleyed his attention between the person on the ground and the escaping driver of the other truck.

Egan finally snatched his phone up from the seat, pressed a number and immediately put the call on speaker. No doubt so he could free up his hands in case he needed to use his gun.

“John,” he said to the person who answered.

John Clary was one of the deputies who worked for Egan at the McCall Canyon Sheriff’s Office. Jordan had known him for years, and she knew he was a good lawman. He had almost certainly brought another deputy with him, too.

“You’ve got a dark blue truck headed your way,” Egan told the deputy. “It’s identical to mine, right down to the same license plate, but it’s not me. The driver is armed and dangerous. Stop him if you can.”

“Will do. Say, are you okay, boss?” John asked.

Egan paused. “I have Jordan Gentry with me.”

John obviously knew something had to be seriously wrong for her to be with Egan. And it was. That person on the road wasn’t moving. That didn’t mean he or she wasn’t still dangerous, though. This could be a ploy to get Egan and her out in the open so the person could gun them down.

“Just get to the truck,” Egan added to John a moment later. “I don’t want whoever’s inside escaping.”

Neither did Jordan, but there were several ways the shooter could manage to do just that. She’d grown up in McCall Canyon and knew there were plenty of ranch trails between here and town. He could turn onto one of those and hide. Plus, there was even another farm road along the route. If he or she managed to get there ahead of the deputy, then it was just a short drive to the interstate. It would be hard to track him after that because she was betting he would switch out those fake plates.

Part of her didn’t mind having some distance between the attacker and her. Especially since Jordan wasn’t in much shape to put up a fight. Her shoulder was still bleeding, and her head was throbbing. But she also knew if they didn’t catch him now, that he would likely come after her again.

“No matter what happens, I want you to stay put,” Egan warned her a split second before he eased the truck out from the trail and back onto the road. “And keep an eye out in case our friend returns to shoot at us again.”

Jordan was already doing that, but she was also making glances at the person who was still lying on the road. Egan pulled closer, but it was still hard to tell much because he or she was wrapped in a blanket. Of course, the cover could be concealing a weapon.

Had Drew or his brother managed to send would-be killers after them? If so, this could be a hired gun. That was probably why Egan hadn’t wanted her out of the truck. But obviously he wasn’t going to take that same precaution himself.

He put on his emergency flashers, the red lights knifing through the darkness, and he pulled to a stop directly next to the person. Jordan moved closer to him so she could provide some backup if this turned into a shootout, but there wasn’t much she could do to keep him out of the line of fire.

Egan stepped out.

He immediately maneuvered himself so that he was in front of Jordan, protecting her. She knew it wasn’t personal, though. Egan was a lawman through and through, and he would now see her as part of the job.

Even if it wasn’t a job that he especially wanted.

Jordan moved again, too, so that she could keep watch around them and still see from over his shoulder. With his gun ready, Egan walked closer. There was still no movement, so he used the toe of his boot to nudge the person.

“Is it a dummy?” Jordan asked.

Egan nudged it again and shook his head. “There’s blood.”

Sweet heaven. That gave Jordan another jolt of adrenaline—along with a really bad thought. Both Egan and she had fired shots into the truck. And they’d done that before the person had been dumped on the road.

Had she shot him or her?

Or had Egan done it?

Jordan forced herself to remember that this could have been the shooter who’d been trying to kill them. He or she might have deserved to die. But like Shanna, the person could have been innocent in all of this, too.

Her lungs started to ache, and that was when she realized she was holding her breath. Her chest muscles were too tight. As if they were squeezing the life out of her. Jordan refused to give in to the memories and the panic. None of that would help Egan right now.

She heard Egan gut out some profanity under his breath as he reached for the blanket. He didn’t yank it but rather gave it a gentle tug, touching it only with his fingertips.

The way a cop would touch evidence he didn’t want contaminated.

And Jordan soon realized why Egan had done that. The moment he pulled back the blanket, she saw the face of the person who was wrapped inside it.

It was a woman.

And she was dead.

Chapter Three

Egan couldn’t push away the sickening feeling of dread. A woman was dead. And he might have been the one to kill her.

“There was no ID on the body,” Egan heard Court say from the other end of the line. “We’ll try to match her prints so we can figure out who she is.”

His brother was at the crime scene with the medical examiner and the CSI team so Court would make sure that everything was done as fast as it could be. Egan had wanted to be there, too, but he also had to make sure Jordan got to the hospital.

And that she was safe.

Ironic, since just an hour ago he hadn’t believed she was truly in danger. Well, he sure as heck believed it now. The person in the truck had wanted to kill her. He was certain about that. But the next steps were for Egan to figure out who this dead Jane Doe was and how she fit into what had happened.

Obviously, Jordan wanted to hear all about that, as well. Even though the doctor was stitching up her shoulder, she was leaning closer to Egan. No doubt trying to hear Court’s every word. When he finished the call, Egan would give her the condensed version, but first he wanted to try to process it himself.

“Cause of death?” Egan asked Court.

“Two gunshot wounds to the head. No stippling.”

Hell.

Stippling happened when particles of gunpowder embedded into the skin. Since it wasn’t on the victim, Egan knew she probably hadn’t been shot at point-blank range. That meant, she might have still been alive while she was in the truck. Might.

Egan dreaded this next question, but he had to know. “Did the victim have any organs missing?”

Court blurted out a single word of bad profanity. “No. Not that I can see. Why would you think that?”

“I’ll fill you in when you’re back here.” No way did Egan want to get into this over the phone, but it was a relief that the woman seemed to be intact. “Were there exit wounds on the body?” Egan asked.

“No. The bullets are still in her.”

As grisly as that sounded, that was actually a good thing. “I want ballistics done ASAP,” Egan reminded his brother.

Though a reminder really wasn’t necessary. Court was already well aware that was one answer they had to have right away.

“I’ll get it,” Court assured him. “You do know, though, that even if the shot came from your gun, or Jordan’s, this was an accident? From everything you told me, both of you were aiming at the driver, who was shooting at you. You didn’t even know there was a passenger in the vehicle.”

Yeah, he knew that in his head. But his gut was having a lot of trouble with it. If the woman had died from his bullet, then the bottom line was that he’d been the one to kill her.

“Also, I’ve made some calls about the truck the gunman was driving,” Egan continued a moment later. “It had to be custom since the windshield was bullet resistant and the front end had been reinforced. We might get lucky and find out who ordered a vehicle like that.”

“I can help you with that when I get back to the office,” Court answered. “Might not be for a while, though, since we want to process Jordan’s vehicle, too. How is she, by the way?” Court asked after a pause.

She had a lot less blood on her than when Egan had first seen her, but she had that stark look in her eyes. The one that told him she was dealing with a serious adrenaline crash and was maybe in shock.

“Jordan’s, well, Jordan,” Egan settled for saying. Stubborn and driven. Not necessarily a good combination.

“She really should be in the hospital,” Dr. Lucy Madison said to Egan the moment he was finished with his call.

Dr. Madison had been working at McCall Canyon Hospital since Egan was a boy. She knew her stuff. And she was right. Jordan should be in the hospital, but when she’d repeatedly refused, Egan had brought her to the sheriff’s office instead and called Dr. Madison to come and check her out.

“I’d rather not be at the hospital with a killer on the loose,” Jordan grumbled.

It wasn’t her first grumble about that, either, and Egan could definitely see her side of it. Jordan was a former cop and hadn’t been able to stop the attack, and this thug could just come walking into the hospital to finish what he’d started. At least Egan could control who came in and out of the sheriff’s office, and the gunman would have to be plenty stupid to come into a building with cops.

“Will she be okay?” Egan asked Dr. Madison. It wasn’t a general kind of question, though. He needed to know how soon he could move her to a safe location so he could get on with this investigation.

“I think she’ll be all right,” the doc answered. “I’d still like to run some tests, but if it’s absolutely necessary for her to be here, it can wait.”

“It’s necessary,” Jordan assured her.

Dr. Madison made a suit-yourself sound and gathered up her things. “I’ll call in a script for some pain meds, but something tells me you won’t be taking them.”

Jordan looked at her. “I won’t be.” And there wasn’t a shred of doubt in her voice.

The doctor sighed. “Well, just take some over-the-counter stuff if it gets too bad. You’ll have a doozy of a headache for a day or two.”

Egan figured from the way Jordan kept wincing that it’d gone well past the doozy stage. Still, he didn’t press it. But he would when the doctor was finally out of his office.

“I will need my immunosuppressant meds, though,” Jordan told the doctor. “They’re at my place in San Antonio, but I haven’t had my dose today.”

“Immunosuppressant?” Egan asked.

Jordan dodged his gaze. “For the kidney transplant.” She gave the name of the drugs to the doctor.

Dr. Madison nodded. “I’ll get you a new script. Will she be here for the next hour or so?” she asked Egan. “Because if so, I can have the pharmacy deliver it to her. Jordan really shouldn’t miss taking it even for a day. It could cause her body to reject the donor kidney.”

Egan wasn’t sure he’d wanted to know that. It was always hard to think of Jordan having part of Shanna inside her. If that part died, it’d be a little like losing Shanna all over again. That probably didn’t make sense to most people, which was why Egan kept it to himself.

“Jordan will be here for a while,” Egan assured the doctor. Just how long “a while” was, though, he wouldn’t know until he’d learned more about what was going on.

“Tell me about the other two living recipients,” Egan said to Jordan once the doctor had left.

Jordan had already given him the names—Tori Judd and Irene Adair—and while Egan had been making some calls, he’d done internet searches on them, but he hadn’t pulled up much. Irene Adair didn’t even have a driver’s license so there was no DMV photo on her. He had gotten a look at a photo of Tori, but Egan didn’t know if she was a match to the dead woman or not.

Jordan drew in a deep breath and moved from the corner of his desk where she’d been sitting to the chair across from him. “I have computer files on both of them, but I honestly don’t know if one of them is the dead woman. There was too much blood for me to get a good look at her face.”

Ditto. But what he had been able to see would be etched in his mind forever. So would some of the details that were eating away at him. “I’m not sure our attacker had enough time to wrap her in a blanket before he dumped her out of the truck.”

“Yes.” Jordan said it so quickly that she’d probably given it some thought. But then she lifted her shoulder. “Unless she’d already had the blanket draped around her.” She winced again. Hesitated. “Did the woman have a missing heart or pancreas?”

“No.”

Egan saw the same relief in her eyes that he’d felt when Court had told him that. Like him, the relief didn’t last long.

“It’s possible the gunman had the woman on the seat next to him,” Jordan said, “and he pushed her out only after she’d been shot.”

Egan had considered that, too. That was why they needed to find the driver of that truck so he could shed some light on this.

“How long before we have ballistics?” she asked.

Egan nearly told her there was no “we” in this investigation, but there was. Whether he liked it or not, and he didn’t, Jordan and he were in this together.

“As soon as the ME can get the bullet out of the Jane Doe, Court can do the comparison with our guns.”

Egan had gone ahead and sent both his and Jordan’s weapons to the lab. Still, it might be tomorrow before they heard anything. It might be that long as well before they got an ID on the woman. It’d be hell waiting, but it wouldn’t be downtime.

“I’ve already called Kirk,” Egan continued. “He didn’t answer, but I left a message for him to get in here for questioning.”

“He won’t like that,” she said under her breath.

No. But then Kirk didn’t care much for anything Egan did. Kirk apparently wasn’t objective enough to figure out the only person to blame for Shanna’s murder was Drew himself.

“Kirk is obviously a suspect,” Egan went on, “but I have to wonder why he’d wait nearly two years before doing something like this.”

Jordan gave a frustrated sigh. “Maybe it’s just now sinking in that his brother is going to die on death row. Or Drew could consider this a loose end he wants tied up before he gets that lethal injection. He lost his appeal.”

True. But there’d be other appeals. Ones that would take a long time. The average inmate in Texas spent over ten years on death row. It didn’t matter that there’d been eyewitnesses to what Drew had done. It didn’t matter that the man wrecked plenty of lives. He would still survive years longer than Shanna. Justice definitely wasn’t a substitute for the havoc that had played out that day.

“I also need to know if there’s someone else you’ve crossed paths with,” Egan went on. “Someone you ticked off enough to do something like this. Because what happened tonight might not even be related to the two dead recipients.”

Jordan didn’t argue with that verbally, but she did shake her head. “I’m not seeing anyone.”

He waited for her to add more. When she didn’t, Egan went with his next question. “How about the cop, Christian Abrams? He said he cared about you a lot.”

Her mouth tightened. “He thinks I’m crazy. I’m not.”

Egan was beginning to believe that. “Could something have happened between you two to make him want you dead?”

“No.” But then she huffed. “We worked together when I was still on the force. Now I do death penalty case reviews for a watchdog group called The Right Verdict. They want to make sure people haven’t been wrongly convicted, and Christian is still my main contact at SAPD. He and I have had a disagreement or two about whether or not someone incarcerated actually got a fair shake at justice. But other than that, nothing.”

That didn’t seem like much of a red flag to turn a cop into a killer. Still, it was worth checking out. Egan pushed a notepad and pen across the desk toward her. “Give me the names of the cases where you disagreed.”

The surprise flashed through her eyes. “You don’t really believe Christian could have done this?”

“I won’t know until I’ve checked him out.” He tipped his head to the notepad. “Names, dates, anything else you have.”

Jordan hesitated a moment and then wrote down a website address and password. “That will get you into my online storage account. The first file will be everything about the organ recipients. The next two will be the case files I’m working on for my job, the ones where Christian and I didn’t see eye to eye.”

Good. He put the note with the info in his pocket so he could go through that while he was setting up a safe house for Jordan. He was about to broach that subject with her, but Jordan spoke before he could say anything.

“One of the calls you made while I was being stitched up was to Alma Lawton. She’s the woman who’d had an affair with your father, Warren.”

Obviously, Jordan had been keeping tabs on him. Of course, that wouldn’t have been hard to do since his father’s affair had made the newspapers. It had come to light after Warren had been shot and nearly killed. His father had led a double life for over thirty years, and his lover, Alma, had been a suspect. Initially so had her and Warren’s son, Raleigh. Egan’s half brother. But both had since been cleared.

“Alma has an alibi for tonight,” Egan explained. “And the rangers are monitoring her bank accounts. If she’d withdrawn any money for a hired gun, we would have known about it.”

“But if you called her, you must have thought she could possibly be involved in this,” Jordan pointed out.

Egan shrugged. “Just ruling her out. That’s why I’ll check into Christian, the living recipients and the cases you’re reviewing for your job.”

She looked up and their eyes connected. For just a moment he saw the fear and pain—something she quickly tried to rein in. He saw something else, too. Jordan, the woman. She was attractive. Always had been. And she’d always had a thing for him since way back in high school.