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The woman didn’t answer. Her gaze shifted slightly. Madison saw the shadow of movement in her peripheral vision. She turned and got a glimpse of a man, an impression only of a bald scalp, the swing of an arm, a rush of air.
Then something exploded against the side of her head. Sparks of pain charged through her body. Her vision blurred, narrowed, and she crumpled to the floor.
She heard the woman scream as she slid into darkness.
* * *
James was getting into his car to head back to the station. His radio crackled, something about a break-in at the bridal salon. He was about to respond when a black sedan shot past him at a speed approaching fifty miles an hour. Had the car come from the salon parking lot?
James turned on the siren and gunned the engine, taking off in pursuit and praying no pedestrians were in the path of the crazed driver. Hawk sat up, rigid, and bayed so loud James’s ears rang.
“Quiet,” he called. They took the bend out of town, the sedan shimmying and bucking as if the driver was not fully in control. James tried to catch the license-plate number, but it was covered in mud. As he turned a corner, he rolled past a tiny grocery store. Out in front was a truck half in the road, the deliveryman loading a dolly full of vegetable crates.
With a last-minute correction, the sedan jerked past, barely missing the deliveryman, who fell over, heads of lettuce tumbling everywhere. The sedan plowed into the side of the truck, sending bits of metal and glass flying. James leaped out and drew his revolver.
“Put your hands where I can see them,” he shouted.
There was a momentary pause before the driver slammed into Reverse and backed straight toward James. There was no choice except to leap up onto the front of his police car. The sedan smacked the bumper, sending James to his knees and upsetting his aim before the driver put the vehicle into Drive and shot away down the road. James scrambled off of his cruiser, Hawk barking madly in the backseat.
The deliveryman sat on the sidewalk, dazed. James longed to continue the chase, but he could not leave the man there without help. He radioed his position and ran to the victim.
The deliveryman stood on his own, brushing debris from his hair. “What in the world just happened?”
James did a quick medical assessment, and the man assured him he was uninjured. He got back behind the wheel, hastily checked on Hawk and drove a few hundred yards but realized he’d lost the guy. His radio chattered.
Not just a break-in at the salon. Someone had been attacked. Frances, the quiet single-mom shop owner? He fought the sick feeling in his gut as he wrenched the car around and hurtled to the salon. He was the first officer to arrive on scene. He hastily secured Hawk to a pole outside, shaded by a crooked awning. “Sorry, Hawk, but you’re not suited for this type of situation, Gotta secure things first.” Hand on his gun, he raced to the back door, which stood ajar.
Listening, he picked up on soft crying. That made him move even faster, pushing through the back hallway and emerging against a rack of hanging dresses. Frances knelt on the floor, tears streaming down her face.
Frances gasped. “I think she’s dead.”
A woman lay on the floor, facedown, spectacular red hair fanned out around her, in a puddle of blood. His heart thunked as he recognized Madison Coles.
Nerves pounding, he radioed for an ambulance and was alerted that one was already on the way, dispatched from the neighboring county. As gently as he could manage, he lifted the hair away from her cheek and slid his fingers along her neck to check for a pulse. The gentle flicker of a heartbeat sent a wave of relief through him. Not daring to move her, he stayed there, monitoring her pulse, waiting for help to arrive.
“She’s alive,” he told Frances. “What happened?”
“I don’t know. She knocked on the front door, but I told her we were closed. I must have left the back door unlocked. When I went to look for some invoices in the back, she was lying here, like that.”
James saw a small but solid plaster bust that must have been used to display bridal headpieces lying on the floor next to Madison. Blood stained the bottom edge. It would make a lousy scent article for Hawk, he thought automatically, since it had no doubt been handled by multiple people.
“So you didn’t see the attacker?”
She shook her head.
He put a hand on Madison’s back to reassure himself that she was still breathing. Fury boiled in his blood. Who would do this? “Did you hear anything? Voices? Talking? A car outside?”
“No,” Frances said. “Nothing.”
He pressed for more detail, but she was unable to provide anything. She was probably in shock. “Was there anything stolen?”
“No. The cash register was untouched.”
“And you didn’t notice anyone come in? What were you doing?”
“Paying some bills in the office.”
“What about noise? You must have heard the back door open.”
“I was playing music.”
He heard no music. Surely she would have seen something. But why would she lie? No, it had to be the shock. He did his best to make Madison comfortable until sirens announced the arrival of more cops.
He heard a soft moan and bent close, mouth to her ear. “It’s okay. We’re getting you to a hospital.” He brushed aside the silky hair that had fallen over her cheek, amazed at the heavy weight of it. Her skin was fair, like porcelain, slightly freckled, her lashes the same rusty hue as her hair. She moved a hand as if to brace herself on the tiled floor. Her slender wrist seemed impossibly fragile.
“Stay still,” he said.
“He...” she whispered, then stopped.
“Who was it? Did you see him?”
Her lips moved again, but no sound came out. He did not want to press as her face was deadly pale. Lord, keep her breathing. Such a violent blow might easily have caused irreparable damage or death. “Stay with me, Madison. Okay? You’re going to make it through this.”
The cops barreled in: Bucks and Shane Weston, his friend and roommate in the condo they shared with other K-9 officers.
Shane had left his German shepherd, Bella, outside with Hawk until he could assess the situation. The more bodies nosing around the crime scene, the harder to read the evidence. James brought them up to speed. When, at long last, the county ambulance arrived, James stood back to let the paramedics work. They stabilized Madison’s spine and checked her vitals as they loaded her onto a stretcher. Her small frame was swallowed up by the contraption. When they wheeled her to the ambulance, he walked alongside.
She opened her eyes, flicking a frightened glance at him, like the baby owl that had fallen out of the nest years ago on his family ranch. Lost, confused, a fallen creature meant to fly. His gut clenched.
“We’re getting you to the hospital. You’re going to be okay.” He could not resist cupping her hand in his.
Her lips moved as if she wanted to say something. He drew close, noting the glimmer of tears on her lashes. “I’m sorry this happened,” he whispered. “We’ll find whoever did this. I promise.”
He had the mad desire to wipe away the single tear that trickled along her cheek, losing itself in her tangle of hair. Instead he gave her hand a gentle squeeze just before they lifted her into the back. Her long fingers were fragile and cold. Then the doors closed and the ambulance rolled away.
Red-hot anger poured through him. Who had done this? In his town?
The thought surprised him. Desert Valley was a place he’d been temporarily assigned, a town he had no intention of staying in, and he’d met this woman only a few hours before.
“You were running down a black sedan?” Shane asked, interrupting his thoughts.
“Yeah,” James tried to snap back into objective cop mode. “The guy who did this, I’m thinking.”
Shane nodded, scrubbing a hand through his close-cropped black hair. “Whitney’s on it.”
James felt a flicker of relief. Officer Whitney Godwin was sharp and determined. He had new admiration for the young mother since she recently cracked a drug ring.
“Did you get a look at him?” Shane asked. Bella was alert, sharp eyes watching the ambulance as it headed with Madison to Canyon County Medical Center twenty miles west of town. A severe head injury would be beyond what the local clinic could handle. James put it out of his mind.
“No, didn’t see the guy’s face.”
Shane thrust his chin toward the bridal-shop owner, who was also being checked by the medics. “Frances give you a description?”
“No help there at all. Said she didn’t see or hear anything and didn’t even know the assailant was in the shop,” James said.
Shane’s eyebrow quirked. “Huh.”
“Yeah. Gonna get Hawk on it now.”
“I’ll roll to the hospital after we get pictures here.”
“Right behind you as soon as I’m done.”
Shane shook his head, eyes shifting in thought. “Bucks told me you had an encounter with her earlier. Lady’s been in Desert Valley all of one morning and this happens. This is turning into one dangerous place,” Shane muttered. He frowned, and James wondered if he would have any desire to stay in town after his temporary assignment ended, should the opportunity present itself. He pictured the petite dog trainer Gina Perry, Shane’s girlfriend. Maybe Shane had truly abandoned his big-city yearnings for the desert, thanks to Gina.
As he went to get Hawk, James couldn’t help but agree with Shane about the dangers cropping up in town with growing frequency. Marian Foxcroft was in a coma under guard due to a recent attack. Had she crossed paths with the same guy who tried to rob the salon?
But robbery wasn’t the motive in the Foxcroft attack. He thought of the hunted look on Frances’s face. Maybe it wasn’t here, either. Why would someone hit a bridal salon an hour before it was scheduled to open? It wasn’t likely that the till would be full. Something didn’t feel right. He hooked Hawk up to the short lead, picturing Madison swaddled up by the thick blankets. She’d looked very small and vulnerable, not the self-assured woman who’d challenged him with that spark of confidence. He blinked. “What is the matter with you?” he muttered to himself. “She’s tough as nails.”
Still, even though she was the last person he wanted mucking about his town, the sight of her fallen and bleeding softened his ire. He led Hawk toward the salon. First Hawk examined the doorknob which James was grateful he hadn’t touched. Then, nose glued to the floor, Hawk made his way into the interior of the salon. The guy had undoubtedly left his trail of sloughed-off skin cells, which were as individualized as a fingerprint to the eager bloodhound. The trouble was, so had everyone else who’d entered the shop. With each human losing some fifty million skin cells per day, the salon was awash in identities for the dog to sort out. With no clear scent article, it was an impossible task.
Hawk sniffed the spot where Madison had lain and the bust, which was being carefully photographed by Ken Bucks. When Hawk whirled and dashed from the building, James followed at a sprint. Trailing Hawk was like holding on to the bumper of a Sherman tank. They nearly knocked over Officer Dennis Marlton in the process.
“Sorry,” he called as he ran.
Marlton sighed and shook his head.
Hawk beelined to the back parking lot, then followed a trail out to the street where the car chase had begun. The scent must have gotten lost in the smell of exhaust from the parade of emergency vehicles. Hawk sat down with a huff that ruffled his saggy face. James sighed and patted the dog. “That’s what I thought, Hawk. Guy we were chasing clobbered Madison Coles, and we let him get away.”
Hawk let out a disgruntled howl that the chase had been cut short.
James felt the same way as they got into the car. He wondered how badly Madison had been injured, and he itched to get to the hospital. He contemplated finding a dog sitter for Hawk. It was approaching midday, and the May temperatures could get uncomfortable. It was best not to work Hawk during the afternoon if possible. His car had air for the dog, but it was a third-hand Crown Victoria, not specially designed for a K-9 like the cars in better-funded departments, which had cooling systems and alarms that went off when the interior temperatures got too high. Plus, the one-hundred-ten-pound bloodhound, trained only to track and trail, tended to get into mischief in medical settings. On their last visit to the local clinic, he’d yanked the leash from James’s hand, dashed into the break room and scampered off with a nurse’s sandwich. The patients who had witnessed Hawk’s escape had been thoroughly amused. The nurse had not. Maybe more retraining would help if he ever had the time to take Hawk.
If he wasn’t in such a hurry to get to the hospital to check on Madison Coles, he would have left Hawk with his family, who were staying in the Desert Pines campground for a month. They said they’d made the trip to visit him. He hoped there wasn’t a darker reason, like that they’d lost their tiny house, the only possession they’d managed to hold on to since the ranch had been sold.
Hawk whined from the backseat.
“Okay, you can come, but keep your nose to yourself, you hear me?”
Hawk answered with a shake of his massive ears.
James found himself pushing the accelerator a little harder than he ought to as they headed for the hospital. Something was definitely wrong—that was no news flash—but he could not escape the feeling things were about to go from bad to worse.
Three (#ulink_dcbed78c-6cb1-5dca-afe5-e691116263f9)
Madison woke, awash in pain, feeling as if someone had applied a hammer to her skull. It hurt to breathe, to blink, to turn her head. Where was she and why was it an agony to move? She forced her eyes open, taking in the pearl-gray walls, the blur of white sheets, an antiseptic smell in her nostrils.
I’m in a hospital. She tried to sit up.
A hand pushed her back down. “Stay still. You’re at the Canyon County Medical Center. You have a mild concussion, and you’re fortunate it wasn’t worse than that, from what I hear.”
Forcing her eyes open, she became aware that the hand belonged to her sister, Kate. Pale blue eyes, white-blond hair, wearing a denim skirt and a Cactus Café T-shirt.
“What happened?” Madison croaked.
“You would know better than anyone, but the report is that you were struck in the head at the bridal salon.” Kate finally smiled, quick and nervous. “If you wanted a good smack upside the head, you could have come to me.” She squeezed Madison’s fingers, and the pressure did more than any drug to ease Madison’s discomfort.
She tried to smile back, but the pain shooting through her temples prevented it. In spite of the agony, she was thrilled to have Kate there, her precious baby sister. “How did you find out?”
“I was halfway through my very first shift with my tray full of burgers and fries when the sirens started up. The whole town heard it. The restaurant emptied out so I ran over. An officer named Harrison was with you. I met his brother Sterling last week when I was here pounding the pavement, looking for work. Sterling was sweet, tried to help me find out where to apply for a job.”
Officer Harrison. She recalled a fuzzy image of him leaning over her, holding her hand, saying something low and comforting.
“I can’t tell you what I felt like when I saw who they were loading onto the stretcher,” Kate said, voice trembling.
“Sorry,” Madison mumbled.
Kate’s brows furrowed, and she let go of Madison’s hands. Their connection ended. “You’re digging into some story again, aren’t you?”
“I was just going to ask a few questions when I heard a...”
Kate pulled on her ponytail, a nervous gesture from childhood. “I don’t want to know. Why can’t you get a normal job and quit poking around in other people’s business?”
Like Uncle Ray had done in theirs. His actions had ensured their father would go to prison, but Kate steadfastly refused to believe his guilt. Not her daddy, her hero, accused of killing a mother Kate did not even remember. Kate believed her life had been torn apart by Ray’s mission to unmask their father as a killer. Madison felt as if her life had just begun then, as if she was awakening from a long, numbing slumber. Kate had despised Madison for believing Uncle Ray.
“I was just going to ask if the shop owner needed help,” Madison said, but she could see her sister did not believe her. “Where’s the doctor? I want to get out of here.”
Officer Ken Bucks knocked softly on the door. “Ms. Coles? I’m glad to see you’re awake.” He nodded to Kate and stared at Madison before letting out a sigh. “I feel like I should have kept a better eye on you, and maybe this wouldn’t have happened. I should know by now that Desert Valley isn’t the sleepy town it pretends to be. I apologize, ma’am.”
“It’s not your fault,” Madison said before introducing her sister. Bucks shook Kate’s hand.
“We’re all curious to know what happened in the salon,” Bucks said. “Are you ready to give a statement?”
Madison peered around him. “I, uh, I thought Officer Harrison would take it, since he was the one who found me.”
“He’ll be along soon, but he asked me to get the details down now, before they’re forgotten.”
“Well, I can’t really help you identify the man who did this. I just didn’t see him that well.”
“Can you give me anything? Height? Hair color?”
“Only that he was white, big and bald.”
“Excuse me,” said the doctor from the doorway. “I’ve got to do an exam on Ms. Coles now that she’s awake.” She moved past Bucks and reached for the curtain to pull it around them. “Would you two mind stepping into the hallway?”
Kate and Bucks retreated. While the doctor checked her chart, Madison tried to reconstruct exactly what had happened. She’d been attacked, and she could have been killed. She itched to know what the bridal salon owner had told the police. The doctor’s probing awakened new twinges of discomfort, but something else bothered Madison, too.
Why exactly was she disappointed that it wasn’t James Harrison there to take her statement?
