KILLER HEADLINE

Reporter Madison Coles wants to write an exposé on the crime spree rocking Desert Valley, Arizona—but the small town’s residents and police are tight-lipped. Even when Madison herself is attacked, the only help she can get is protection from rookie K-9 officer James Harrison and his trusty bloodhound. Suspicious of the reporter’s motives, the handsome cop keeps her at arm’s length. But the more Madison’s life is threatened, the more focused she is on finding the truth—and the closer she gets to James. Can he help her find the story without them both ending up in the obituary pages?

Rookie K-9 Unit: These lawmen solve the toughest cases with the help of their brave canine partners

“Help me,” Madison managed to whisper to the figure backlit from the sun.

Dust stung her eyes, grit caking her mouth. She did not realize it was James who had entered until his face appeared in the gap under the desk.

“Madison?” He wore an expression of unadulterated surprise and relief. “Thank You, God,” he said.

“I was sitting here saying the same thing,” she replied, crawling out from under the desk. The trailer had collapsed. Someone had made it collapse. Her stomach was flip-flopping madly at the sight of him.

“Are you hurt?” he asked.

She managed a shake of her head before he clutched her to him for just a moment, held tightly against his wide chest, feeling the mad thundering of his heart.

“You’re really okay, then?” he repeated.

“I’m okay.”

But someone didn’t want her to be.

ROOKIE K-9 UNIT:

These lawmen solve the toughest cases

with the help of their brave canine partners

Protect and Serve—Terri Reed, April 2016

Truth and Consequences—Lenora Worth, May 2016

Seek and Find—Dana Mentink, June 2016

Honor and Defend—Lynette Eason, July 2016

Secrets and Lies—Shirlee McCoy, August 2016

Search and Rescue—Valerie Hansen, September 2016

DANA MENTINK is an award-winning author of Christian fiction. Her novel Betrayal in the Badlands won a 2010 RT Reviewers’ Choice Best Book Award, and she was pleased to win the 2013 Carol Award for Lost Legacy. She has authored more than a dozen Love Inspired Suspense novels. Dana loves feedback from her readers. Contact her via her website at danamentink.com.

Seek and Find

Dana Mentink

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Remember ye not the former things,

neither consider the things of old.

Behold, I will do a new thing; now it shall spring forth;

shall ye not know it? I will even make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert.

—Isaiah 43:18–19

To those faithful K-9 officers and their police handlers, thank you for your dedication and service.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty-One

Twenty-Two

Dear Reader

Extract

Copyright

One

Murder. The word rattled through Madison’s mind along with the outrage. She was driving fast—too fast. Rocks struck the fenders with angry thunks. When the twenty-seven-year-old reporter made the dusty turn that was to take her the final five miles into the hole-in-the-wall town of Desert Valley in northwestern Arizona, her irritation contributed to her lead foot on the gas pedal.

The shooting of a K-9 trainer was just a small piece of the madness in Desert Valley. Homicide, the unsolved attempted murder of a prominent citizen, suspicious cases gone cold. She itched to investigate, but her editor was unmoved by her ambition, sticking her with a story about how the crime spree was hurting business in the area. Other seasoned reporters were working the big cases, and she got stuck with a business story.

Business? When there was a killer roaming loose, or possibly more than one? She felt the familiar hitch in her breathing. Madison knew a thing or two about killers. One might even say it was in her DNA.

Focus, Madison. The most recent slaying, of police-dog master trainer Veronica Earnshaw, had rated a few headlines. On top of that, Marian Foxcroft, wealthy Desert Valley benefactress, lay in a coma after being attacked in her home. But those big stories had been assigned to the senior reporters who’d already wrapped their pieces and left town.

She flipped on her tape recorder. “And what about the deaths on the night of the police fund-raiser dance? A cop’s wife is murdered one year, and then a few years later, rookie Mike Riverton falls down a flight of stairs. And then another rookie, Brian Miller, dies in a fire? All on the night of the dance? Someone should look into that.” She flicked the recorder off and tossed it on the seat in disgust. And that someone should be me. No one had more motivation to look into the deaths than she. After all, I am the daughter of a murderer, she thought with a shiver.

But newly hired reporters with a hundred bucks in their bank accounts and a rent check coming due couldn’t afford to lose their jobs. Besides, she was desperate to put down some roots in Tuckerville, her new home some forty-five minutes away from Desert Valley. She wanted to get used to a rural life for a change, and ideally her sister would stay for a good long while. It was the only way they could learn to love their way past the hurt.

Pebbles pinged as she pressed the accelerator. Midday sun blazed onto the windshield, dazzling her. A split second later, everything changed. One moment there was nothing but shrub-lined asphalt ahead and the next, a fawn-colored bloodhound wearing a heavy leather collar shot across the road, followed by a police officer who halted in the bushes, startled, intense sapphire-blue eyes opened wide.

She had only a moment to register that he was very fit, very tall and more than a little irritated as she slammed on the brakes to avoid the dog. Then the tires squealed, and she skidded off the road and through a screen of shrubbery, bumping to a stop amid a pile of rocks. She sat, heart thumping, panting, nerves jangling from the mad jostling.

The officer ran to the car. “Are you all right?”

She blinked and nodded. He opened the door for her and she got out, noting both her flat front tire and his hair, the color of the desert sand. “I’m okay, but my tire’s another story.”

He called out, and the bloodhound loped from the trees, coming to an ungainly stop next to the officer.

“Your dog?”

“Yes. I’m very sorry, ma’am. Every once in a while, Hawk gets this wild notion, forgets he is a police dog and takes off. I think it has something to do with squirrels. He’s certain they’re mocking him.” He shot an exasperated look at his canine. “Looks like we’re gonna need more training.” Hawk slurped a tongue along the officer’s pant leg.

“Knock it off, dog,” he said.

There was an enticing, familiar scent clinging to the officer.

“I think he tastes garlic,” she said with a smile.

He flushed red. “Oh, man. I smell like garlic? Earlier I was trying to figure out my mom’s recipe for beef stew. I’ve showered and everything, but the scent gets into your pores.”

“Won’t your mom give you the recipe?”

“No. She says once I learn it, I won’t come around as much.”

They both laughed.

The big-bodied bloodhound sat heavily on the ground, staring at her through the fleshy folds of his face. Police dog or not, he was adorable, and his handler was not hard to look at, either. The guy should have been on a police recruitment poster or something.

Hawk gave her a scolding look, as if she had somehow gotten between him and his rodent nemesis.

“Is he a puppy?”

“Two years old, but from what I can see, he’s got plenty of puppy left in him. He’s managed to destroy two pairs of work boots, a cupboard door and the backseat of my truck. And what is this?” He bent closer, picking a scrap of material from Hawk’s lip. “This better not be a piece of the backseat again, dog.”

Hawk did not look the least bit contrite. He shook his head, jowls flapping. Madison giggled. “Not your typical police dog?”

“Just a bloodhound. They’re not patrol dogs, really more specialized for tracking and trailing. Maybe I should have requested a nice German shepherd. They don’t eat backseats.” Hawk yawned, and James chuckled. “We didn’t become partners until a couple of months ago. Just graduated from the K-9 training center in Desert Valley, and we’re assigned here temporarily.”

“I heard. You and four other rookies with their K-9s. Marian Foxcroft paid for you all to be assigned to Desert Valley until you solve the murder of Veronica Earnshaw. She was the police-dog master trainer, right?”

“You’re well informed.”

“I like to keep apprised.”

The officer sighed, taking in the flattened front tire. “Anyway, we were doing a search, and he’s still learning. He’s determined, but he takes off once in a while and breaks the rules. Hawk wins the prize for having to take the most retraining courses.”

“I guess I could use some retraining, too. I was going too fast.”

“Yes, you were, now that you mention it,” he said with a grin. “It’s thirty-five along this stretch. You from out of town?”

“Not far out. I live in Tuckerville with my sister.” At least, if their disagreement from the night before hadn’t driven Kate away. Things are getting better, Mads. Remember that. After years of estrangement, desperation had finally driven Kate back. “She got a job in Desert Valley just yesterday.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Good for her. Not much work around here to be had.”

He was right. Kate had combed Tuckerville and all the nearby towns until she’d finally landed a job, which gave Madison an even greater motivation to help solve the crime spree here in the tiny town. Kate might not want the close relationship that Madison craved, but Madison intended to do what she could for her only sibling, one way or another. At least the town where she worked would be safer if she could help nab a few killers. You’ll thank me later, Kate.

“So, Officer, are you going to give me a ticket?”

He shot her a rueful grin. “In view of the fact that my dog was misbehaving, I say we call it a draw.” He extended a hand. “James Harrison.”

“Madison Coles,” she said, noting that his eyes were such an intense blue they seemed lit from the inside, like sunlight playing through stained glass. His palms were strong and warm, tough enough to indicate he worked with his hands when he wasn’t on duty—or maybe the calluses were from hauling on a leash all day. And the faint scent of garlic was more enticing than any cologne. “That sounds fair to me.” She went to the trunk and fished out a lug wrench.

“Let me change that tire for you,” he said, taking the tool from her hands and hefting the spare from the trunk.

“I can do it,” she said quickly. Take care of yourself, Mads.

But he was already crouched over, easily detaching the lug nuts. “I’ve never let a lady change her own flat, and I’m not about to now.”

“Thanks,” she said. She hadn’t expected to find chivalry in this desert nowhere. It both pleased her and kicked up some anxiety. He’s a cop, Mads. Perfectly okay to let him change your tire. “What were you searching for, anyway?”

“Just following a hunch.”

The trees behind them were thick with tangled branches, the perfect place for someone to hide. A killer, perhaps?

“So, you’re following a lead on Veronica Earnshaw’s murder? Or maybe the attack on Marian Foxcroft?”

He frowned. “We’re all doing our best.”

“You must be making progress. You’ve got a lot of extra rookies assigned to this town, not to mention the dogs.”

He knelt to remove the tire. “Yes, that’s true. The town is practically crawling with K-9s until we’re reassigned elsewhere.” There was a touch of cynicism in his voice. “Why are you so interested?”

She shrugged. “Who isn’t? Murders and a bludgeoning attack in a small town like this? How is the investigation going?”

He paused in the act of wrestling on the spare. “Slowly.”

“In your opinion, is the Earnshaw case linked to what happened to Marian Foxcroft?”

He didn’t answer.

She pressed on eagerly. “And those deaths on the night of the police fund-raiser. Officer Ryder Hayes’s wife was murdered, and two other deaths were ruled accidental. What’s your take on it?”

He kept his eyes on the tire this time, and she drank in his strong profile, noting that his full mouth was now drawn into a tight line. “Why is this beginning to sound like an interview?”

She ignored the question. “Murders, assaults. What is going on in this town?”

They were interrupted by the arrival of another car. This time an older officer got out, late thirties with thinning hair and a gaunt look about him except for his well-padded waist. Hawk greeted him with a flapping of his enormous ears. He scratched the dog’s fleshy jowls, earning a lick, which he wiped from his cheek.

“Hey, James. Afternoon, ma’am,” the officer said.

“This is Officer Ken Bucks,” James said by way of introduction. “Madison Coles.”

Bucks eyed her and the car. “Got some trouble? Shall I call for a tow?”

“I’m taking care of it,” James said. “Just needs the spare put on.”

Bucks quirked an eyebrow. “Madison Coles. I know that name.” His eyes shifted in thought, sparking when he’d made some connection. “You might want to let her change her own tire.”

James shot him a look. “Why?”

Officer Bucks raised his chin at James. “She’s another reporter, Canyon County Gazette. Carrie said she’s called three times this week.”

Great. Now she’d get the cold shoulder from these two cops. Carrie Dunleavy, the Desert Valley Police Department secretary, hadn’t given her any information Madison hadn’t read herself in her own employer’s newspaper. Was the secretary even passing along her messages to the chief and officers? Probably.

“I wouldn’t have had to call so much if one of you had bothered to return my messages.”

“We’re a small town,” Bucks said. “We like to respect the privacy of our citizens and play things close to the vest, and we’ve had our fill of reporters nosing around in police business. Isn’t that right, Officer Harrison?”

The change in James’s expression from the moment the other cop outed her as a reporter was dramatic. It was as if someone closed the shutters, cutting off all the light from his expression. “You’re a reporter?”

She nodded.

He finished the tire and stood. “Should be good to go now. Sorry for the trouble.” There was none of the previous warmth in his voice. He handed her a business card. “I’ll pay to get you another spare since the accident was my fault.”

He summoned the dog, and they walked toward his car, which she now spotted some twenty feet up the road. Bucks remained behind, next to Madison.

“Wait. Can I ask you a few questions?” she called to James.

“No, ma’am,” he threw over his shoulder.

“Why not?” she asked his departing back.

“Because he doesn’t like reporters,” Bucks said, removing a stick of gum from a pack in his pocket and folding it into his mouth. “And he’s got a good reason, since a reporter ruined his family.”

Ruined his family? Ironic, since a reporter had saved hers, though her sister didn’t see it that way. She straightened her shoulders. “Well, how about you, Officer Bucks? I’m actually just here to write a story about how crime has affected local businesses. Would you be willing to answer a few questions? Just for background information?”

“No, ma’am,” he said with a grin. “I would not. Enjoy your stay in Desert Valley.” With a tip of his hat, he returned to his car, smacking his gum.

“I’m going to be in town writing a story whether you cooperate or not,” she called to him.

Bucks gave her a sardonic salute, eased into his driver’s seat and pulled away.

She stared after them. Both officers clearly did not want a reporter poking around, but that wasn’t anything new. They could throw up all the roadblocks they wanted. There was a story here, bigger than the failing businesses in Desert Valley, and she was going to find out what it was, with or without police cooperation. Sure, she’d write the business piece, but it wouldn’t hurt to keep her ears open for something more significant. Instincts prickling, she got back into her car and drove the rest of the way to Desert Valley.

* * *

James turned onto the narrow paved road, allowing his breathing to return to normal. So she was a reporter. So what? He’d met plenty of them recently. Only natural that journalists would start flocking around where there was a potential for a juicy story. Reporters. They were all the same, vultures who reworked the facts to suit their fancy, like the one who’d smeared his brother in the papers, condemning him in the public eye for a rape he didn’t commit. He realized his jaw was clenched as usual whenever he thought about his brother. Take a breath.

Madison was doing her job, and he was going to do his. Deep down in his gut, he knew the real reason he was upset was that he’d been enjoying her company, chatting easily about cooking and canines, while something had been poking at him. Her red hair and easy smile reminded him of his teen crush, Paige, a girl who had fractured his family, a viper he had let into the nest. That was a long time ago.

A movement in the shadows beside the road made him tense. James’s pulse ticked up. Was it the dog they’d been searching for? Marco, the police K-9 German shepherd puppy, had gone missing from the training yard the night Veronica Earnshaw was murdered. How in the world could a puppy stay lost for so long? A few weeks ago, a witness had reported seeing someone on a bicycle pick up what looked like a small dog and ride off with it. But it was dark, and the witness couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman on the bike or even if the little dog was definitely the missing puppy—easy to spot with a circular mark on his head. A ground squirrel raced out from behind some bushes and dashed across the street. Not Marco.

He continued up the road, passing a row of small houses on his way into town. He was surprised when Charlie Greer raced down his driveway, arms flailing, white hair mussed.

“Someone’s busted into my yard,” Charlie said, his plaid shirt stained with axle grease. “Gone now, though.”

James got out, Hawk following.

The baying of several dogs caught Hawk’s attention, and he lumbered over to the fenced front yard, adding his own noise to the mix, tail wagging. James smiled as Hawk shoved his big nose through the fence to greet the dogs, including a German shepherd puppy named Stormy that Charlie had acquired recently.

“How’s your new dog getting along?”

Charlie’s face softened, and he looked years younger. “Swimmingly, but that ain’t what I wanted to tell you.”

James dutifully followed Charlie to his backyard, which was surrounded by a sturdy wooden fence.

“Found it just now when I got home.” The bolt on the gate had been cut through, and someone had entered the yard. The back door to the house was still shut up tight. There was no sign the intruder had gone any farther. James tensed. What would induce someone to break into Charlie’s backyard? The man lived modestly, fixing cars when he could to supplement his Social Security benefits. There was not much on the premises that could be fenced or sold. “Why didn’t the dogs raise a ruckus?”

“Probably did,” Charlie said. “I was out buying some spark plugs. Musta just happened because the dogs were milling around, and most of ’em hadn’t gotten out yet through the busted gate. I put ’em in the side yard, and then I saw you.”

James nodded. “I’ll take a look in the woods. Stay here.”

He called to Hawk and let the dog sniff around where the person must have been standing to cut the bolt. Hawk nosed eagerly, electrified to be starting off on a possible search. With no scent item to track, it would be up to the dog to catch any odor particles left in the air or soil. Unlikely that he’d find anything, but Hawk was always eager to try.

He clipped Hawk to a fifteen-foot lead, and they took off into the thick canopy of pines. Hawk stuck to a narrow trail that bisected the woods, paralleling a dry creek bed. They hiked for about ten minutes. James was ready to call off the search when suddenly, the dog stiffened, let loose with an ear-splitting howl and plunged ahead. James put a hand on his gun and followed, fending off the slap of low branches. He couldn’t imagine that anyone would be hiding in these woods, but he’d learned one thing in the long hours of training with Hawk and the deceased Veronica Earnshaw: trust the dog. With noses that could detect scent a thousand times better than humans, bloodhounds were master trackers. Truly, Hawk was a nose with a dog attached.

Hawk let out another spine-jarring howl.

James saw the heavy branch being swung at his head a second before it hit him. He was able to raise an arm to fend off the blow, but it sent him off balance, and he fell hard on his back. There was a sound of running feet. Hawk darted after the fleeing figure for a few yards, then turned and raced back at his fallen handler’s command. James heard a car engine, his hopes for a capture vanishing.

Hawk shoved his wrinkled jowls close and slurped a fat pink tongue over James’s forehead.

James sat up. Hawk continued to lick him until he waved him off.

“All right, you big lug. I’m okay. I just fell. That’s all.” He got to his feet, brushing pine needles from his uniform pants.

As he and Hawk trekked back to Greer’s place, he wondered who would be brazen enough to break into his yard in broad daylight.

The striking reporter’s words came back to him.

What is going on in this town?

Two

Madison continued to fume as she squeezed her car into a curbside space along the main street. On her way here she’d stopped at the K-9 training center just to get a visual in her mind of where the grisly Earnshaw shooting had taken place. Twenty minutes was all she allowed herself. The center was larger than she’d pictured, a white stucco building with two outdoor training yards and no dogs in sight. What had she expected to find? She wasn’t sure. Stick to the story you’re supposed to be writing, Mads. Get that done first, and then see what else you can unearth.

In the early hours, the sidewalks were empty, most of the businesses not yet open. It was so different from the bustle of urban life. She was still adjusting to the slow pace of Tuckerville, and Desert Valley was even smaller. Growing up with a father who loved cities, the bigger the better, they’d lived everywhere from San Francisco to Austin until they’d settled in Arizona. It was in sun-bleached Phoenix that her Uncle Ray, a reporter who’d spent fourteen years looking for them, finally tracked them down, delivering the truth in a scorching revelation. Her father was a murderer and a child abductor.

The ever-present tension in her stomach kicked up a notch. Madison Coles had no one now, except Kate. The thought of her sister and the tender closeness they no longer shared cut at her.

Why couldn’t Kate understand that the truth had set them free? But Kate had never accepted the loss of their father. His incarceration was the beginning of a very long, troubled path that saw her sister bounce from one disastrous relationship to another until finally she’d hit rock bottom two months ago and called Madison. Two months of ups and downs, but Madison was filled with hope that they might finally be rebuilding some small hope of a relationship. One positive sign? The note from her sister on the kitchen table that morning next to the neatly remade sofa bed where Kate had slept.

Got a waitressing job in DV! Tell you more later.

A job was a start—a great start—and though she wouldn’t admit it, she’d kept the scrawled message because of the little heart her sister had drawn there. Thank you, God, Madison breathed.

As she cruised downtown Desert Valley, Madison was not sure which restaurant had hired Kate. Not that there were many choices. There was the Cactus Café, a sandwich outfit and a new hot-dog shop that promised to open soon. No sushi place or Korean barbecue, unfortunately.

Stepping from the car, she decided to do some research for the story she’d been assigned while she tried to locate her sister. It was time to start interviewing the local business owners. At the other end of the street, she saw a police car pull to the curb. James Harrison stepped out, long, lean legs, powerful shoulders, a serious expression on his face and Hawk by his side. She might have assumed James always looked serious, but she’d seen his smile and the sparkle in those incredible eyes before he heard what her profession was. Don’t bother dreaming about those eyes, she chided herself.

He obviously had some megachip on his shoulder about reporters. Fine. When she was occupied in her extracurricular snooping, she’d go around him, find sources other than the handsome Harrison and his sarcastic colleague Ken Bucks. She about-faced and headed in the other direction to keep her distance.

Her stroll took her past the Brides and Belles bridal salon. All that white lace and beadwork on the display dresses made her queasy. Marriage was packaged up in pretty bows and baubles, but her parents’ marriage had been a living torment that ended in murder.

He beat her, Uncle Ray had told them. Your father terrorized your mother until it escalated to murder. The death of his sister left Ray with a burning need to deliver justice and save his nieces from growing up with a killer.

A killer. The gentle, smiling father who smelled of aftershave and was devoted to his girls. Daddy to them, murderer of their mother. The incongruity made her dizzy, and ten years of trying to understand it hadn’t made it any more comprehensible.

It was a half hour before opening time, but she spotted two cars in the lot behind the store: a battered pickup and a new black sedan.

Madison swallowed and tapped on the glass front door of the shop. Inside, a small lady with blond hair pulled into a tight bun jerked her head up from a display case to look at Madison. The blonde shook her head. “Not open,” she mouthed.

“I just want to talk to you for a minute,” Madison tried.

The lady shook her head firmly. “Not open. Come back later.”

“But...”

The woman turned away and disappeared into the back of the shop.

“Could this place be any less welcoming?” she grumbled. “Maybe the Cactus Café will have one kindly soul who will talk to me.” Her route took her by the side door of the bridal salon, which was ajar. Angry words floated out.

“No excuses,” a low voice rumbled.

She could not hear the reply, but the tone was tense, high-pitched. Madison inched up, poised to knock on the door and offer help if necessary.

“...tell you again.” She did not hear the rest except for the name Tony. Careful to step quietly, she edged closer, hand on her phone, ready to call the police.

“Please...” came a woman’s voice.

Fear echoed in her tone and rolled through Madison. Fear. How Madison hated the emotion. Hearing it made her wonder what her mother had felt just before she’d been strangled, with the hideous knowledge that she was helpless at the hands of someone she’d trusted, loved.

Madison heard the sound of ripping cloth. It was too much. She could not stand there one more second and allow the woman inside to be harmed.

She darted through the door, emerging into the back room of the salon. Racks of plastic-covered dresses blocked her view. The floor creaked loudly under her feet. Should she call the police? But they already thought she was a trouble-maker, and no one had exactly invited her into the salon. Nonetheless, she kept her hand on her phone keypad.

Heart hammering, she pushed past the dresses, the plastic crinkling under her touch.

The shop owner’s eyes were round with fear, hands clasped to her mouth.

“Are you okay?” Madison asked, stepping through the dresses.

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

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?

* * *

After getting an initial report from Bucks, James waited in the hallway while the doctor examined Madison. He introduced himself to a young woman who didn’t look much like Madison, but turned out to be her sister, Kate.

“I’ve got to get back to work. My first day.”

“Here in Desert Valley, your sister said.”

“Yeah. I’m living with Madison in Tuckerville. Not too bad a commute.” She sighed and rubbed her eyes. “My dad would hate this little town.”

“Did you get word to him about Madison’s attack?”

She laughed, a hard bitter sound. “Somehow I don’t think the warden will issue him a leave pass.”

Their father was incarcerated? James burned to ask her about it, but she had already turned away and stridden down the hallway. He’d find out. Later.

The doctor finished his exam and left the room. James was about to enter when he heard sniffling. Madison. The crying awakened the protective instinct that had gotten James into plenty of trouble in his lifetime. What was it about a woman crying that got right inside him? He remembered his teen crush on sixteen-year-old Paige who’d cried on his chest about some injustice or another. It had awakened such a strong feeling of protectiveness inside James. All these years later and a woman’s tears still got to him. Ridiculous...and dangerous.

Madison’s tears were perfectly appropriate. She’d done nothing, threatened nobody, yet someone had assaulted her. With the doctor gone, her sister absent, she was likely feeling lonely. And why exactly should he care? She’d been nosing around, trying to rake up some dirt for a story, no doubt. “Aww, just get in there and do your job,” he muttered to himself before he knocked on the door.

“Yes?” she said in a small voice.

“It’s Officer Harrison. May I come in?”

There was a pause and another sniffle. “Sure,” she said after a moment.

She was wiping her face with a tissue, rust-colored hair trailing over the pillow like a spread of fall leaves, freckles showing on her pale cheeks.

“Hi,” he said, suddenly awkward at the sight of her.

She flicked a glance around. “Where’s Hawk?”

“He’s with another officer right now in the lobby. He’s not the best behaved in a medical setting. He eats things he shouldn’t.”

She smiled, but it did not reach her eyes. “If I had any food, he could certainly have mine. I’m not a big meat loaf fan. Don’t suppose they serve sushi around here.”

His nostrils flared. “Sushi? Raw fish stuff?”

“Not all of it is raw, but yes. You’re not a fan.”

“Er, no. I prefer eating things that have been up close and personal with the grill.”

She chuckled, wincing at the pain.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like someone used my head for a soccer ball.”

He had to laugh at that one. “Been there a time or two. Got thrown from a horse more times than I can count, and played in a pickup basketball game last week where I got my bell rung pretty good.” He paused. “Can you remember anything about the guy who hit you?”

“Officer Bucks came in a while ago asking the same thing. I told him I can’t identify the guy because I only saw him from the corner of my eye before he tried to smash my skull in. Big, white, bald.” Her mouth quivered, just for a moment.

James noted that her eyes were the color of coffee with just a hint of cream, or maybe the tint of clover honey fresh from the comb. The image took him back to his ranch, to his father pulling the frame from the beehive, glistening with honey. The wonder of it had overwhelmed him back then. He blinked. “I’m sorry this happened to you.”

Her tone went sharp. “Are you? Aren’t you thinking I’m a nosy reporter and I got what I had coming to me?”

“No, ma’am, I wasn’t.”

She stared at him.

He shifted. “Well, I’ll admit to thinking the ‘nosy reporter’ part, but nobody deserves to be attacked, reporter or not.”

She shrugged and pulled at the blankets. “Believe it or not, I wasn’t bothering anyone.”

“Why were you in the store in the first place?”

“I’m working on a story about local businesses, how they’ve been hurt by the crime spree. The owner didn’t want to talk to me, but later I heard some guy harassing her when I went around the side.”

“Harassing how?”

“He said something about not telling her again, that someone was going to get hurt.”

His stomach muscles tightened. “Frances said she didn’t talk to him at all, didn’t even see him.”

Madison’s mouth fell open. “Why would she lie?”

“I don’t know that she’s lying,” he blurted out.

“Well, I’m not,” Madison said hotly, sitting up against the pillows. “I realize I’m the newcomer here, but I have no reason to make things up.”

He shrugged. “I’m sure you don’t, except to concoct a juicy story for your paper.” Aloud. He’d actually said that aloud.

She stiffened, hands gripping the sheets. “I happen to have integrity.”

“I haven’t met many reporters with integrity,” he muttered, another thing he shouldn’t have let slip out of his mouth. So much for tact, Harrison.

She blushed. “That was over the line.”

He looked away for a minute, let out a breath and remembered what kind of God-fearing man he wanted to be. Slow count to three. “You’re right. I apologize. I...I have had some bad experiences with reporters, but I shouldn’t take it out on you, especially after what you’ve been through.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “You or the other officers could have returned my calls, you know. Didn’t your secretary tell you I phoned?”

“Carrie forwarded the messages like she’s supposed to.” He toyed with the radio clipped to his belt. “I figured one of the other officers would be better at handling your questions.” He tried not to notice her eyes too much. Keep it professional. “Anything else you remember from the salon?”

She considered. “The guy said ‘Tony,’ too.”

“Tony?” Now his nerves were good and truly jangled. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, why? Who is Tony?”

He forced himself to answer. “The owner’s fourteen-year-old son.” Something cold slithered in his belly. Why would a woman lie about being threatened? One really big reason: to protect the person who mattered most...her son. He’d once seen a mother who could not swim leap off a dock to save her drowning toddler. Frances would lie to protect Tony. He was certain of it. He was readying another round of questions when a nurse popped her head in, face grave. “Officer, can I see you out here for a minute?”

He went to her.

“We’re going to keep this door closed, okay?” the nurse said to Madison.

“Problem?” he asked when he got to the threshold.

She nodded.

“Be right back,” James said to Madison, following the nurse outside.

People were moving quickly outside in the corridor, their shoes squeaking on the floor. He knew the signs. Trouble.

* * *

Curiosity burned Madison’s insides. Easing herself to her feet one painful movement at a time, she stood, clinging to the bed rail. A moment of dizziness nearly overcame her, but she breathed through it. Forcing her feet to cooperate, she stopped to pull on another hospital gown, using it for a robe. She inched the door open.

Nurses were scurrying along, closing all the doors. She saw James talking to a hospital engineer next to a closed set of metal doors intended to seal off this section of the hospital from the rest. Fire? She’d worked in a hospital gift shop long enough to know that most fire alarms amounted to nothing more than a smoking bag of microwave popcorn, or a patient sneaking a cigarette in the bathroom. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a movement from behind a cart piled high with towels.

Who would be standing there, hidden between the wall and the towels, when there was clearly an emergency situation brewing? She stepped out, moving quietly toward the cart.

Again a flicker of movement, stealthy, quick.

She caught the faint scent of smoke in the air as she took another step forward. Not a false alarm after all. Hand outstretched, she meant to push the cart, move it backward to flush whoever was behind it out into the open.

Her fingers touched the cold metal bars.

“Hey,” James said, startling her. She spun so quickly she became dizzy. As she stood there clutching the gown to her body, she wished he did not have to be so good-looking, with a strong jaw, sapphire eyes and thick blond hair she wanted to touch. He took her firmly by the wrist. “You have to get back into bed and keep the door closed.”

“I’m fine.”

He frowned. “That wasn’t a suggestion.”

“But there’s someone behind the cart.”

James gave her a dubious look, but he let go of her wrist and swiveled the cart away from the wall. There was no one there.

“I saw...”

“You can tell me later. Back into your room.”

“I don’t need a babysitter,” she snapped.

“Apparently you do, and if it’s going to be me, I charge nine bucks an hour and all the potato chips I can eat.” He led Madison into her room and waited until she climbed back into bed.

Her cheeks burned. “Well, is it a fire? Can you at least tell me that?”

“We’re checking it out.” James was already heading to the door. “You’re going to be perfectly safe. Stay here.”

Madison sank down into the blankets, annoyed that even the brief foray out of bed had left her knees shaking and a strident pain in her temples. She wished James would hurry back and fill her in, but he was busy doing his cop thing, and she didn’t think he’d tell her much, anyway.

Closing her eyes and trying to breathe away the pounding in her skull, she attempted to relax. The need to know refused to be quieted. Everything is being handled and no one is going to answer any questions for you, Mads, so just deal with it.

But maybe she could find out something on social media. Perhaps some patient had heard what was going on and sent out a quick Tweet or Facebook post. She opened her eyes and reached for her cell phone just as a pillow descended over her face, strong hands sealing off her air, cutting off her scream.

Four

James didn’t pretend to be a fire expert, but the smoke that billowed out of the supply closet seemed to be pouring from one inside corner covered by a pile of blackening paper products. He couldn’t see clearly over the shoulder of the hospital maintenance engineer who was spraying chemicals onto the fire with an extinguisher. Sure, there might be flammable cleaning chemicals in the storage room, but on the floor? And the paper products just happened to be dumped there? He knew the hospital was well run and well managed. Piles of debris would not be tolerated.

Now his instincts were prickling. A fire in the supply closet would accomplish what? Create a distraction to allow someone to steal drugs? Unlikely, as the medicines were generally secured. Cause mayhem for some delinquent to enjoy? Possibly, but that didn’t happen too often in a place where everybody knew everybody else. Create a diversion for someone to get at one of the patients? A wave of cold swept through him.

“Got it knocked down,” the engineer said. “We’ll be all clear soon after we clean it up. Fire department is here, too.”

James turned quickly and headed back to Madison’s room. Cold fear. His nerves were no doubt firing without good reason. She was probably just fine, impatiently ticking off the minutes. Actually, he’d be surprised if she’d stayed put. Not exactly the obedient type. Pushing open the door, he saw a big guy leaning over her, her hands batting weakly at the pillow he held over her face and then falling limp on the sheet.

With a roar, James leaped on the guy. They went down, taking a nearby pitcher of water with them. The man was big, maybe fifty, bald headed and muscular with skin whiter than any desert resident had a right to. The guy surged to his feet, throwing James back a pace.

James tried to get a read on Madison, but the stranger was diving for the door now. James reached for his gun, but before he got it clear of the holster, his opponent tossed a rolling table at him. James threw up a hand to deflect it, sending it crashing into the end of the bed.

There was still no movement from Madison. Had he been too late?

The guy barreled through the door, and James heard a shout as he must have run into someone. Maybe it had slowed him down enough. James got on his radio and alerted Shane with a description as he raced to the doorway. “Heading west toward the stairwell. Stop him.”

“Copy that,” Shane said. James heard the chatter of radio traffic as he turned his attention to Madison.

What he would have given to be able to run the stranger down, but he didn’t dare delay. Fear thickened his throat as he ran back to Madison and shoved the pillow aside. He patted her cheeks. “Madison, wake up.”

She did not make a sound; her eyes were closed. Her pale skin might have been carved of pure marble. He yelled for a nurse and tried to find a pulse in her wrist, but there was so much adrenaline firing through his veins, he was not sure whether he was feeling his own hammering pulse or her heartbeat. Was she breathing? “Come on,” he said, giving her a shake. “You’re gonna wake up, do you hear me?”

Suddenly she gasped for breath and came to, pounding her fists at him.

“Get off me,” she screamed in between violent coughs. “Get away.”

“It’s me,” he said, clutching her forearms, thrilled to know she was well enough to take a whack at him. “It’s James. Madison, look at me.”

Her wide-open eyes were wild for another moment. Slowly she began to focus, coughing hard and sucking in huge lungfuls of air.

“It’s me,” he repeated. “The guy is gone.”

She blinked. “He tried to kill me for the second time today.”

He held on, thinking she might burst into hysterical tears. What should he do in that case? Hold her comfortingly? Restrain her? Get a nurse who knew what to do? He figured it might be similar to dealing with a spooked horse: hold on and keep calm. He squeezed her forearms, letting her know he was still there and she was safe.

Instead of hysteria, something that looked a lot like red-hot anger flooded across her face, staining her cheeks pink. She wrenched out of his reach, picked up the pillow and hurled it him. “This is not acceptable,” she hollered.

He couldn’t help it. He smiled, profound relief pulsing through him. “I completely agree, ma’am.”

“Then why don’t you do something? This is your town, isn’t it? What’s the matter with the police here?”

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

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.

“How did you find that out?”

Sterling shrugged. “I was getting coffee this morning at the café. When the ambulance rolled in at the bridal salon, I talked to her sister. She’s a waitress at the café. I met her a few days ago when she was job hunting.”

“Yes, Madison’s a reporter.”

His father’s mouth tightened, and he looked at the worn tile floor.

“She’s doing a story, and then she’ll leave town,” James said.

“And you’re helping her?” Sterling asked. “Seemed like you were offering quite a bit of comfort when she was loaded into the ambulance.”

“She is the victim of a crime. I’m investigating. That’s called doing my job.”

“Your job? What about your family?” Sterling fisted his hand on his hips.

“It’s not a choice between the two.”

“Isn’t it? If you let a reporter into your life, you let her into ours, too.” Sterling glared at his brother before turning on his heel and stalking out of the kitchen.

James felt the unsaid. Like you let Paige in...

His mother’s eyes were round with surprise and shock. “He doesn’t mean it. I’m sure you were doing your best in the circumstances. We just don’t want any reporters around us anymore. You understand, don’t you?”

His father looped an arm around his mother’s shoulders. “Of course he does. He loves his brother, and he knows what we’ve been through. He’s got enough loyalty to stay away from people who dig up headlines for a living. We’ve been the subject of enough of those to last a lifetime.”

James nodded, heart full at the memory of seeing his brother jailed, learning of the hate mail sent to his family’s ranch from those who believed Sterling was a rapist. Fed by malicious newspaper reports, many would never believe he was innocent, even after it had finally been proven that Paige’s accusation was a lie.

The reporter’s actions were bad enough, but what about his? He’d invited Paige into the family, spent every moment with her and loved her with all his soul, or so he’d believed, enough that he’d actually doubted his brother. James Harrison and his flawless taste in women. He kissed his mother and gripped his father’s forearm. “I’m going to protect this family,” he said, throat thick with emotion.

His mother kissed him again. “We know that, J.J.” She looked deep into his eyes. “You didn’t intend for anything bad to happen when you started dating Paige. When you realized the truth, you tried to make it right. God’s clear on that, and so are we.”

His head knew it, but his heart kept tossing up his shame like tumbleweeds tossed up by the desert wind. Sorry, God. Sorry.

Hawk was reluctant to leave the simmering pot of meat, but James insisted. Madison would not waste a moment returning to the story she was sniffing out, and he wouldn’t put it past her to sneak away when his back was turned. That’s right, he decided. He’d treat her like he would a suspect. He would stay wary and play things close to the vest.

He believed God forgave him for his blind devotion to the girl who ruined his family, but he’d never forgive himself if he trusted the wrong woman again.

Just do your job, James.

He’d dig to the bottom of what had happened to Madison Coles and get her safely out of his town and his life.

Case closed.

* * *

Madison was just finishing up a list of questions for the local shop owners when she saw James returning along the narrow path with Hawk. She’d meant to call herself a cab or catch a ride into town with one of the locals, because she sure wasn’t going to ask James for a lift. He might be her reluctant bodyguard, but she didn’t have to let him be her personal chauffeur. A girl had to draw the line somewhere. All well and good, but she was mad at herself for pulling her hair into a smooth ponytail and swiping on a coat of pink lip gloss earlier. Her vanity annoyed her. Why should she care what James thought of her?

Wiping off the lip gloss, she grabbed her bag, shoving in her iPad and camera, and headed out, marching purposefully in the direction of town.

James and Hawk caught up quickly. “Going somewhere?”

“Into town, to do my job.”

“Let me drive you.”

“Why?”

“So I can do mine,” he said, mouth pinched tight. It was obvious he was stewing about something, so she decided not to push the point. She didn’t see what right he had to be upset. She was the one who’d almost been murdered. Twice. The muscles on his upper arms were well defined as he opened the front door of his police car for her and the back for Hawk, but she tried hard not to notice.

Whatever comfort she’d felt from him at the hospital was obviously a distant memory. Fine. She’d ensure her story was written quickly and get out of Desert Valley and away from James Harrison just as soon as she possibly could. They climbed into the Crown Victoria. “So your story is about how crimes have affected local business, right?”

“Yes, that’s why I was in the bridal salon.”

He didn’t respond.

“You don’t believe me?”

“The questions you were asking when I changed your flat weren’t about business.”

She blushed. “I really wanted to write a bigger story. I tried to get my editor to let me look into the deaths on the night of the police fund-raiser dance, but he wouldn’t go for it.”

She saw his jaw tighten. “Good for him.”

“There’s a story there. I’ve done some research. Mike Riverton and Brian Miller were killed on the night of the fund-raiser. And five years earlier so was Melanie Hayes, a cop’s wife. That’s a set of whopping coincidences.”

“You don’t have to tell me the details. The coroner ruled Miller and Riverton as accidental deaths.”

“I know. I read the reports. But there’s something odd about it—about this whole town, really.”

“Enough,” James snapped. “I’m a cop. It’s our job to solve crimes, not yours.”

“Yeah? Well, you’re not doing a very speedy work on that, are you?” She regretted her jibe.

His sinewy arms tightened as he gripped the steering wheel. “Just write your business story and leave the crime solving to the police. That’s what we get paid to do.”

Her cheeks flushed, and her hands balled into fists on her lap. “Reporters get paid to find the truth, also, for your information.”

“No.” Anger flashed across his face. “They get paid to write stories that are biased and twisted to sell papers.”

“Sometimes,” she said, voice wobbling unexpectedly, “they save people, too.”

James shot her a startled look. “What are you talking about?”

She felt suddenly mortified that her emotions had bubbled to the surface. The head injury had scrambled up her feelings and weakened her self-control. She was not about to tell him her sad life story. “Never mind.”

He paused. “Your sister said your father was in jail.”

Madison’s heart thumped. “She told you that?”

“Yes. What happened?”

Madison felt the same sick sensation that always seized her when she thought about her father. She wanted to tell him to mind his own business, but she knew he could look up the whole sorry mess, and the shadow of softness in his voice somehow changed things. “My father killed my mother.”

“I’m sorry.” Another pause. “Did a reporter figure in his conviction?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Mercifully, he did not push, but she knew his mind must be whirling as he mulled it over. How could she put into words what her father’s crime had cost her? Her mother, her identity, her trust.

She was relieved when they pulled up on Main Street. She got out of the car without a backward glance and hastened to the door of the bridal salon, ignoring the ripple of fear she experienced at being back there. No one is going to hurt you, Mads. James and Hawk trailed into the shop behind her.

Frances looked up from her file over the top of her reading glasses. She stiffened. “Ms. Coles. I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“Thank you.”

“If there’s anything I can do, any way I can make it up to you?”

“As a matter of fact, you can tell me about the salon. I’m writing a story for the Gazette about how the recent murders have affected business. That’s why I was trying to talk to you in the first place.”

Frances folded her hands on the counter, looking relieved. Had she expected another line of questioning?

“Business is slow. We struggle. Visitors are not as keen to come here with all the crime, and we weren’t a tourist destination in the first place. My sales are down since last year. The florist shop closed, which hurt my business, too. Bridal and floral go together.” She sighed, gesturing to the ivory walls. “The place needs painting, the carpets are worn and the light fixture in the sitting room doesn’t work, which discourages customers, but there’s no money to upgrade. Vicious circle.”

Madison couldn’t help herself. “Then why would that stranger, the one who hit me, come here? Surely not for robbery? You don’t have money to spare, as you’ve just said. Was there another reason he came to see you?”

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