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The nurse ran in, looking from Madison to James and back again as Madison continued yelling in between coughs.
“I think she’s okay,” James said, “but you’d better check her over. She was nearly smothered a few minutes ago.”
“And that’s completely unacceptable,” Madison snapped. “Why don’t you arrest the bad guys before they try to smother people? Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do? Isn’t that why you have a badge?”
The nurse raised an amused eyebrow. “Seems as though Ms. Coles is going to be fine.”
He smiled, stepping out into the hallway before the pillow hit the door. Shane got him on the radio.
“We lost him. Bucks saw him exit the building and run into the woods.”
“I’ll get Hawk on it. Send Marlton to watch Madison’s room in case this guy’s got a partner.”
He retrieved the pillow the guy had used to try to smother Madison and raced to the lobby for Hawk. As they headed for the woods, he knew Madison was right. The crimes were popping up in Desert Valley like groundhogs. Now the bridal-salon attacker on the loose was attempting to strangle a woman in a busy hospital? He clipped the leash to Hawk’s collar and let him get a good scent from the pillow.
“Find,” he said. Hawk took off, jerking James along with him, Shane and Bucks following.
Madison’s words echoed back at him.
“Why don’t you arrest the bad guys...?”
This time, he thought, he would. They careened through the underbrush. James slapped branches out of his way. He knew his partners were right behind him, but he was too busy protecting his face to take note of their exact location. Fury rose hot inside his chest along with the adrenaline. The tension on the long leash increased as Hawk surged forward. They were close now. The screen of bushes was so thick, he had to watch his step to avoid tripping. Hawk had no such problem. The dog was a canine bulldozer, plowing his way along, stopping every few moments to redirect. When he quivered in a way that meant, I’ve got it, James’s body went rigid, nerves electrified. The guy was close. Very close.
With a jubilant yank, Hawk surged toward a gap between two enormous pine trunks. James used all his strength to pull the dog to a halt. There was no use giving Hawk a verbal command. When he was on a hunt, that was all he could focus on.
James hauled on the leash and stopped the dog, drawing his weapon. Hawk barked and bayed at being thwarted. Shane and Bucks took positions on either side of him.
“Police! Hands up,” James shouted.
No answer but Hawk’s incessant barking.
He slowly counted to three and rushed into the clearing just past the trees. A motorbike roared to life and their mark made his escape, blazing through the forest. There was no opportunity to get off a shot with so many trees in the way. James ran after the vehicle and was quickly outpaced. Hawk could probably track the motorbike, but there was no use as James heard it roar up to the main road. The scent would be lost quickly because the day was hot with little breeze. He felt like letting out his frustration in a roar louder than Hawk’s howling. Biting back the rage, he released Hawk to continue his sniffing, which led the dog to a damp baseball cap lying on the carpet of leaves.
Hawk was about to scoop up his prize when James stopped him. “Leave it, Hawk. That’s evidence. Sorry.”
Bucks stepped up and took a picture, snared the hat with a pen. He was sweating, red-faced. He told Hawk, “Almost got him, boy. Next time.”
James fumed. Almost didn’t cut it. By this time, Chief Jones had arrived, and they briefed him. At seventy years old, Earl Jones was an imposing man with a large gut and a thick head of gray hair. His expression was fixed in the bland smile he always wore. The chief tended to cultivate that smile while he avoided conflict with his staff, particularly with his stepson, Ken Bucks. He got out an evidence bag and they secured the baseball cap.
“It’s the same guy from the bridal salon,” James said. “He wants Madison Coles dead.”
“Why?” Jones asked. “She’s a stranger in town.”
“Maybe he thinks she can ID him from the attack at the salon.”
“Why attack her in the first place?” Shane mused. At the edge of the clearing, Bella barked, eager to join in. “Place had no cash. Robbery wasn’t the motive.”
“Someone who doesn’t like reporters? Plenty of people got it in for reporters.” Jones’s tone was light, but James wondered if it was a dig at him.
“Until we investigate,” James said, “she’s not safe here.”
“Can we order her to go home?” Bucks suggested hopefully. “Back to Tuckerville?”
“She doesn’t strike me as the type to take orders,” Shane said.
The chief chuckled. “Considering my own experience with two ex-wives, I’d say that’s more than likely the truth.”
James fisted his hands on his hips, wishing they’d all take the situation as something more than a joke. “We need an officer assigned to keep an eye on her as long as she’s in Desert Valley.”
Jones considered. “I’m inclined to agree. We sure don’t want any more deaths in this town. I assume you’re volunteering for the assignment?”
“Me?” James said. “No way. I’ve already got a dog to take care of. Hawk is enough responsibility for two cops.”
Shane smiled. “But you’re so good at it. Hawk hasn’t chewed up your running shoes for, what? Like, a week now? And you still have one basketball he hasn’t flattened, right?”
“This isn’t funny,” James said.
“Absolutely not,” Shane said, nodding gravely with a hint of a grin.
Jones did not smile, but something in his expression made James think he was enjoying the situation. They’d had their share of arguments since James found himself assigned to this town with zero say in the matter. He hadn’t exactly shown an abundance of tact when he’d complained to the chief about it.
“Excellent, then,” Jones said. “Go on back and tell Ms. Coles you’ll be her protection detail as soon as she’s released from the hospital.”
“But I’ve got other cases to work on, the missing puppy and the police dance next week,” James said. Thanks to his blond hair, he was to be the bait to draw out the police dance killer, if there was one. The two rookies who’d died on the night of the police dance, a year apart, were both blond. And so was Ryder Hayes, who’d been a rookie when his wife, Melanie, was killed five years ago, also on the night of the annual police dance. Coincidence? Maybe. Maybe not.
“Then I guess you’d better help her get her story done so you can go back to work.” The chief turned his back to James and went to examine the photographs that Dennis Marlton was taking of the faint motorcycle tracks.
You’ve been dismissed, James thought. He forced his jaws to unclench. What was he getting so upset about? Was it because Madison was a reporter? Or because he found himself thinking about her red hair and vibrant eyes more than he should? No way was he going down that road. She was a job, an assignment, and he’d do it because he was a professional, not some young kid who wore his heart on his sleeve. “Lord, help me get this job done,” he muttered.
He stepped carefully around Hawk, who was sprawled in the shade, drooling. Shane clapped James on the back. “That was quick thinking, rookie. I guess you really got yourself a plum assignment this time.”
“Yeah,” he grumbled, wondering how in the world he’d managed to snag himself a babysitting detail. For a reporter, no less.
* * *
Madison checked herself out of the hospital the next morning against the advice of the doctor in charge. She hadn’t slept for more than a few moments all night, even though she’d been told there was a cop stationed outside her door. Who could blame her, really? Two attempts on her life in the space of one day? She’d heard from James that they’d lost the guy in the woods. Some police work, she thought. Or maybe they hadn’t poured all that much effort into the capture. She was a stranger, after all, a nosy one who was about as welcome as the stomach flu. Something settled heavily inside her.
No time for self-pity, she thought. She had a story to write, even if it was a dull one about local business, and if she wanted to look into other crimes that was her concern.
She found herself in the lobby, heading for the receptionist, who would be able to call her a cab. While she stood at the counter, she felt dampness on her knee.
It was Hawk, happily drooling on her leg.
She could not resist a chuckle as she scratched his enormous ears.
“Sorry about the saliva,” James said. “It’s just a bloodhound’s way of saying hello.”
“Better than some of the cheesy pickup lines I’ve heard.” She searched James’s face, noting some bottled-up tension. His wide shoulders were taut, as if he’d been given some bad news. “Is there an update you need to tell me about?”
“No. Yes.” He shook his head. “I mean, not about the case.”
“What, then?”
“We...Desert Valley PD, I mean...the chief, that is...”
The strapping Officer Harrison was nervous? “Well?”
He shook his head and sighed.
“Have you been assigned to drive me to the city limits? Don’t bother.”
“Oh, were you thinking of leaving?” James asked, eyebrows raised hopefully. “Understandable. Smart, even with everything that’s happened.”
“No,” she said firmly. “The doctor told me I can’t drive for a few days, and my sister rides a motorcycle that is not built for two, so I figured I’d stay. Is there really only one hotel in town?”
“Yes, the Desert Rose Inn, but it’s only got a few rooms.” He cleared his throat.
“I looked online. They’re booked. I was thinking of renting a cabin at the Desert Pines campground.”
His eyes widened. “My family...uh, well, never mind about that. It’s a nice campground, and the cabins are well maintained.” He cleared his throat. “But there’s something you should know.”
She stared at him. “What?”
“The chief has assigned me to your protection detail until we catch the guy who hurt you.” His words came out in a flood.
Her mouth fell open. “A protection detail? Are you kidding? How am I going to get my job done with you hanging around all the time?”
His lips twisted into a wry grin. “I was wondering exactly the same thing about my work.”
Determined not to be charmed by his little-boy smile, she crossed her arms. “And you were figuring, what? I’d move into the station or something? Into your dorm or barracks or whatever?”
“I live in the condo for K-9 trainees. Believe me, there’s not a square inch of room left over there with Hawk lazing around.”
“Fine, because I wouldn’t stay there, anyway. This is ridiculous. I’ve got pepper spray in my pocket. I’ll be perfectly safe.”
James did not appear to be listening. His blue eyes danced in thought. “Now that I think about it, the campground will work great. Plenty of people, lots of eyes and ears. I’ll rent a cabin, too. There’s a decent basketball court there, and Hawk will love the fresh air.” He grimaced. “And the squirrels. You can come with me to the station for briefings. There’s a workroom and a coffeemaker.”
And then, having seemingly put her life and his in order, he walked off, Hawk bouncing along after him.
She gaped. What had just happened? Had the infuriatingly handsome cop just told her he was going to be her babysitter in Desert Valley?
“That’s not going to work,” she called across the lobby. Nobody was going to manage her life, especially a man. God hadn’t delivered her from her father to make her dependent on anyone else.
But James and Hawk were already passing through the automatic doors to the police car parked out front. James loaded Hawk into the back and opened the passenger-side front door before lazily sprawling against the frame.
Was he waiting for her? He was ready to load her up into the car like some sort of well-trained dog? Did he think he could command her like he did Hawk?
You’ve got another thing coming, James Harrison. Another thing entirely.
Five (#ulink_6861207c-3492-51a8-af6f-535dc7271d32)
It was after lunchtime when James finally got himself settled at the Desert Pines campground. Hawk had to do a complete inspection of the tiny cabin, and James kept a close eye to be sure he did not start to chomp on anything. James meandered outside and allowed himself a moment to drink in the hues of the silver-green saltbush and the massive ironwood trees. He heard the soft burble of water from a creek that would soon be dry. His parents and brother had booked a trailer, purportedly to come visit him the week before, since he had not been able to fly home to Wyoming since the previous Christmas. He knew his brother, Sterling, would be fishing, his only solace since their ranch land had been sold and the horses he’d loved, too. He now rented a room from an elderly couple in Wyoming, ten miles from the beloved ranch that no longer belonged to the Harrisons. James fought down the familiar sting of pain.
They’d had to sell the land and animals to pay his brother’s legal fees to defend him against the rape charge ten years before. Sterling Harrison, age eighteen, had become the object of sixteen-year-old Paige Berg’s unhealthy obsession, and when he’d spurned her, she’d gotten revenge in the worst way, ruining his brother and the reputation of the ranch. The bad press had finally begun to die away, but not without exacting a terrible cost. James blamed himself. He’d brought Paige to the ranch as his girlfriend. She was the one, his teenage heart had insisted. Disastrous judgment, horrific consequences.
Let that go for now, James. You’re forgiven. Act like it. Maybe he’d find some time to go fishing with his brother, or at least beat him at hoops.
Madison was safely installed in her cabin, probably still fuming about having landed him as her constant shadow. The feeling was mutual. He decided to take Hawk to the lake to say hello to his parents and burn off some of the dog’s energy. Bloodhounds that weren’t exercised regularly would find a way to release their great store of energy at the expense of furniture and belongings. Even with a great deal of stimulation, Hawk still did his share of damage. Recently, James had found himself wondering where his hiking boots had gotten to.
They walked up the wooded slope and reached the lake, which sparkled in the sunlight. His parent’s trailer was scratched and bulky, and it sprawled like an old hound dog on a shady spot of ground under the pines. How small it looked. How they must miss their acres of ranch land.
He swallowed and saw his brother approach with a rod in his hand. Sterling’s head was bowed. He lacked the brash confidence that had marked him in his youth. James missed their carefree days, the hard and fast horseback riding they used to do, tearing up the trails in the evenings when the guests were enjoying their time around the campfire. He could practically smell the wood smoke curling up to the endless expanse of starlit Wyoming sky.
New life now, James. Sterling could start over again with a good woman, if he was ever able to find one, and James was now a canine cop, a profession he loved. Still, there were times he’d trade it all to sit on the back of a horse again, and return to the time before he’d fallen stupendously and blindly in love. His job was satisfying, but he knew at heart he’d always be a ranch kid. Someday he intended to buy the ranch back, even if it took him the rest of his life to do it. Jobs for K-9 officers were scarce in rural Wyoming, and he’d heard through a recruiting program about the Arizona job. He liked Arizona, but his heart had remained in Wyoming.
Hawk’s impatient ear flap roused James, and they made their way to the trailer. Hawk lumbered in first through the open door.
His mother flashed a smile at them from the tiny stove in the kitchen. She walked over and gave him a tight squeeze.
“Hey, J.J. You must have smelled my pulled pork.”
He inhaled deeply of the concoction and identified the ingredients: garlic, rosemary, bay leaf, chili powder. “No, but Hawk can smell it from five counties away.”
She stood on tiptoe to kiss her son. Betty Harrison was all of four feet eleven, a slight woman with enormous energy who never slowed down, except when her eldest son had been overwhelmed by the rape charge and his jail time. Only her faith had gotten their family through it. Barely. Her smile cheered him, but he missed seeing her in the sprawling old ranch kitchen with the checked curtains and her arsenal of pans.
His father rose from the cramped bench seat and greeted James with a strong hug, stooping to give Hawk an ear rub. Had he lost more weight? The man who’d been strong and robust was now rail thin in spite of his wife’s mouthwatering cooking. He had the ever-present notebook and pencil in his pocket, where he used to write a stream of reminders to himself of ranch tasks that needed doing. James wondered what he wrote in it these days.
“Good to see you, son. Gonna join us for lunch?”
Sterling came in and clasped his brother in a hug. “James always turns up when the food’s ready.” Sterling took an oatmeal-raisin cookie from the platter and earned a poke from their mother. “Did I hear you got yourself a cabin here?”
“Yeah. Gonna stay a while.”
“Finally a vacation for my hard-working son?”
“Not really. I’m assigned to keep watch over a woman, and she rented a cabin here.”
“The lady who was attacked at the bridal salon?” His mother added salt to her enormous simmering pot. He wasn’t surprised at her information. She’d made it a habit to listen to the police radio since James became a cop. “It helps me understand what your job is like,” she’d say. She tuned in wherever they happened to be. “That poor girl. Will she be okay?”
“Yes. We’re just making sure.”
Hawk snaked a tongue up towards the platter of cookies, but James caught him before he snatched one. “Leave it, Hawk.”
Hawk’s droopy face looked repentant, but James wasn’t fooled. The dog never regretted anything where food was concerned. He’d snatched an entire ham off the table at a church picnic they’d attended and never had the decency to look the least bit contrite about it. They’d done some additional training after the ham incident, but James still wasn’t completely convinced about Hawk’s trustworthiness around pork products.
Sterling folded his arms, staring at James. James waited until Sterling unloaded what was on his mind. It did no good to rush things with his brother. He’d talk when he felt like it. Period.
“Madison Coles, the girl who got hurt—she’s a reporter isn’t she?” Sterling asked.
