Without a Doubt

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She scrambled into the van, checking for a pulse and breathing a sigh of relief when she found one—weak, but beating.

“Don’t you worry. I’m going to get you help.”

She watched the slow rise and fall of his chest, satisfying herself he was able to breathe on his own. She shrugged out of her jacket, bundled it on top of him, then dumped the contents of her purse to locate her cell phone, not wanting to leave his side long enough to reach the van’s two-way radio.

She hit the speed-dial button for 911. “WNJZ parking lot. We need help ASAP.”

But before the voice on the other end of the line could respond, something knocked the phone from Sophie’s hand. She twisted, raising her hands defensively, but she was too late.

Her assailant backhanded her across the side of her face, then hoisted her, kicking and screaming from the van.

The masked man pinned her to the asphalt, his knee in her chest. Her face throbbed from where he’d struck her, and her legs protested at the way they’d been twisted beneath her.

When he slapped a piece of heavy tape over her mouth, bile rose in her throat. Her only hope now was that help for Cookie would arrive in time to save her.

She fought to scramble to her feet, but felt the back of her attacker’s hand against her cheek again. This time when she fell, her attacker dragged her around the far side of the van, headed toward the deserted lot of the soon-to-be-demolished hotel next door.

She had to break free. Had to. All of her self-defense training screamed through her brain.

Don’t let him take you to a second location. Fight him. Fight him.

She kicked, working to free her feet from her pumps. Once the shoes fell away, she fought to hook a foot on a rock, in a hole, anything that might slow their forward progress.

Panic squeezed at her insides and she struggled to remain coherent.

Focus, Sophie. Focus.

If she lost control of her senses now, she might very well end up raped…or far worse.

Sirens sounded and Sophie dared hope she might survive—unless her attacker had dragged her so far out of sight the authorities would never find her.

Icy cold terror tangled with her panic.

What if no one looked for her?

She’d dumped her purse before she made the call. Anyone responding to the scene would know she’d been there. And her coworkers knew she’d never leave Cook alone and injured.

Cookie.

Her attacker tightened his grip, dragging her forcibly farther and farther away from the lot. She continued to wiggle and kick, doing her best to break free, to slow him down, to frustrate him.

Sophie’s heart twisted in her chest at the thought of Cookie injured and bleeding.

Determination welled inside her. She had to find a way out of this, had to find a way to escape.

Her assailant dropped her to the hard ground, and the back of her head connected with packed dirt.

The sirens grew nearer and he straightened, looking in both directions. When he bent down, putting his face near hers, she swung at him wildly, but he pinned her arms down effortlessly. She brought her knee up, hoping she’d hit his groin, but missing her mark.

Panic surged through her every muscle and nerve ending. How would she survive this? How would she escape? He was too big, too strong.

Just as she’d begun to accept her fate, he spoke.

“Consider this a warning.”

The cold edge of the man’s voice cut through the night air, freezing Sophie in mid-struggle.

“Next time, you won’t live to talk about it.”

He released his grip on her arms and Sophie struggled to sit up, to wriggle away.

This time, when his hand connected with her face and her head slammed against the hard dirt, Sophie’s vision faded.

Then turned to black.

Chapter Four

The whine grew louder and louder, nearer and nearer. Sophie struggled to open her eyes. She couldn’t shake the pitch-black and fought against it. Her eyelids felt as though someone had pasted them shut and her cheekbone felt as though it had been shattered into a million pieces.

“She’s coming around,” a female voice said, close.

A hand pressed against her arm and she tried to jerk away, but her body didn’t want to respond to her brain’s signal. She recognized the whine now, loud and piercing. A siren.

The metallic mix of fear and blood lingering in her mouth brought the memory of what had happened crashing back. She’d been attacked, and Cookie had been badly beaten.

She struggled against the hand holding her, wanting to get away, needing to get away.

“Settle down. You’re going to be fine.” The female voice spoke again. “Almost there.”

Sophie forced her eyes open. The woman was nothing more than a shadowy blur until Sophie managed a blink that brought her surroundings into focus.

The inside of an ambulance.

“How’s Cook?” She managed to push the words through her shock and pain.

The paramedic hesitated before she answered, and Sophie’s mind immediately jumped to the worst-case scenario. “Is he—”

“He’s pretty banged up.” The paramedic gave a slight nod. “I’ll try to get an update for you once we get you settled inside.”

The vehicle jerked to a stop and the back doors flew open. The next several moments were a blur of voices, antiseptic smells and ceiling tiles whizzing past over Sophie’s head as they rushed her into the emergency room triage area.

She’d covered plenty of stories from outside these same doors, but this was the first time she’d had occasion to be the center of a medical team’s attention. She prayed it would be the last.

Her head felt as though it were about to explode and she closed her eyes, willing the pain to go away, but fighting to stay conscious. She wanted to be sharp enough to find out if Cookie was all right, to find out what had happened.

The masked face flashed through her memory and she shuddered. Why had they been attacked? And by whom?

Her mind wanted to leap from the table and chase the story, look at the evidence and piece together the facts, but she knew better. She was starting to feel everything now. Her battered face. Battered legs. Battered head.

Her mind might be up for the chase, but her body was a long way from cooperating.

GARY DIDN’T LOOK UP from the clippings on the Markham deaths when the shadow fell across his desk. He didn’t know who or what wanted something, but right now he didn’t give a damn about anything but proving Sophie Markham wrong.

There was no way in hell Ally was her deceased niece, Robin. No way.

“What?” he snarled.

“Another television-station attack.”