Wrongfully Accused

A Callahan Confidential story

When fire investigator Mitch Callahan is attacked at a crime scene, he’s shocked to uncover the body of a slain ex-girlfriend—and realize someone’s framing him for murder. Widowed ER nurse Dana Petrie believes Mitch is innocent, and not just because he makes her feel alive again after tragedy marred her past. But is she willing to risk everything only to love and lose again?

LAURA SCOTT is a nurse by day and an author by night. She has always loved romance and read faith-based books by Grace Livingston Hill in her teenage years. She’s thrilled to have published over twelve books for Love Inspired Suspense. She has two adult children and lives in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, with her husband of thirty years. Please visit Laura at laurascottbooks.com, as she loves to hear from her readers.

Also By Laura Scott

Love Inspired Suspense

Callahan Confidential

Shielding His Christmas Witness

The Only Witness

Christmas Amnesia

Shattered Lullaby

Primary Suspect

Classified K-9 Unit

Sheriff

SWAT: Top Cops

Wrongly Accused

Down to the Wire

Under the Lawman’s Protection

Forgotten Memories

Holiday on the Run

Mirror Image

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

Primary Suspect

Laura Scott

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-08448-2

PRIMARY SUSPECT

© 2018 Laura Iding

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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Version: 2020-03-02

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A man with a dark baseball hat pulled low over his eyes roughly entered the hospital room, brushing past Dana with such force he knocked her off balance.

Before she knew exactly what was happening, the man rushed toward Mitch. Her eyes widened in horror when she caught a glimpse of silver near his hand.

Was that a knife?

Mitch reacted instinctively, grabbing the metal tray beside him and bringing it up to block the knife in the nick of time. The tip of the blade deflected harmlessly off the metal surface, making the man stumble.

Mitch used the tray as a weapon, bringing it down hard on the guy’s head with a loud thunk. The man went down, sprawling inelegantly across the foot of the gurney. Mitch moved swiftly toward Dana, latching on to her arm.

“I need the closest way out of here,” he said in a low, harsh voice.

“This way.” She ducked out of the room, directing Mitch to the stairwell located just a few feet from his room.

“Who was that man?” she asked. “I don’t understand what’s going on.”

“Frankly, I don’t, either. But I have a bad feeling I’m being set up.”

“Set up for what, exactly?” she asked.

Mitch was silent for a long moment, before he finally spoke. “Murder.”

Give ear to my words, O Lord, consider my meditation. Hearken unto the voice of my cry, my King, and my God: for unto thee will I pray.

—Psalms 5:1–2

Dear Reader,

Primary Suspect is the fifth book in my Callahan Confidential series. I’m happy to hear so many of you are enjoying this incredible family. This book focuses on Fire Investigator Mitch Callahan.

When Mitch is assaulted and framed for murder, he isn’t sure who he can trust. And he regrets how ER nurse Dana Petrie is unavoidably dragged into the situation with him. Dana hasn’t recovered from losing her husband and unborn child three years ago, until she’s forced to go on the run with Mitch. As they flee the men chasing them, Dana feels alive for the first time in years. Can she and Mitch recover from their wounded pasts long enough to look forward to the future?

I hope you enjoy Mitch and Dana’s story. I’m also hard at work on the next Military K-9 story and then will begin the last book in my Callahan Confidential series. I love hearing from my readers. If you’re interested in contacting me or signing up for my newsletter, please visit my website at page at www.laurascottbooks.com. I’m also on Facebook at Laura Scott Books Author and on Twitter @laurascottbooks.

Yours in faith,

Laura Scott

This book is dedicated to all the brave men and women who fight fires every day, and especially those who lost their lives on September 11, 2001.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Introduction

Bible Verse

Dear Reader

Dedication

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

About the Publisher

ONE

Fire Investigator Mitch Callahan cautiously approached the burned-out shell of a warehouse located on Milwaukee’s south side.

Why had Fire Chief Rick Nelson requested a meeting here, late on a Wednesday night? Mitch had picked up the case after Jeff Walker’s untimely death from a sudden massive heart attack and had already deemed the cause to be arson, despite the attempt to make it look like faulty wiring. He was sure he hadn’t missed any sort of key evidence. His boss’s voice had sounded strained on the message. Jeff’s files didn’t jibe with his investigational findings, so maybe this meeting was related to this disturbing trend.

Either way, he wasn’t about to dismiss a direct order from his boss, no matter how unusual.

The pungent scent of smoke hung heavily in the air, something he was as used to as breathing. Stepping carefully, he crossed what had once been the threshold of a doorway. The interior was dark, so he pulled his flashlight from his back pocket and flicked it on, the narrow beam illuminating the interior.

“Hello? Anyone here?” he called, meticulously placing his feet around blackened two-by-fours strewn over the concrete floor. The place didn’t look much different than it had earlier in the day, although seeing it at nighttime added an eerie dimension.

The interior of the building had sustained significant damage, but the metal walls of the warehouse were still standing. There were gaps in the metal roof from steel that had warped in the heat, wide enough that he could see stars flickering in the night sky.

This place had less damage compared to the two others he’d investigated over the past few months. Fire-damaged buildings were notoriously unstable, which made it doubly odd that his boss had requested to meet here tonight.

And where was Rick anyway? Mitch had been running late, but there was still no sign of his boss. Mitch stood for a moment, sweeping the area with his flashlight, debating heading back outside to wait.

A hint of blue caught his eye, making him frown. He aimed the flashlight toward the only bit of color amongst the blackened wreckage. He sucked in a harsh breath when he saw what looked like two denim-covered legs peeking out from beneath a pile of rubble way in the back corner of the building.

Was that a person buried under there?

His boss?

No, it couldn’t be. The legs looked too narrow, as if they belonged to a skinny person rather than Rick Nelson’s heavy-set frame. When he’d cleared the scene earlier that day, there hadn’t been anyone inside. Besides, the blue denim wasn’t blackened with smoke, so whoever this person was, he or she had come into the warehouse somewhere between five in the evening and now, nine thirty at night. Mitch moved quickly forward, just as he heard a noise behind him.

He started to turn around, but a second too late. Something hard crashed down, sending him sprawling forward. Pain exploded along the left side of his neck and shoulders, and he hit the concrete floor with a bone-jarring thud.

Then there was nothing but darkness.

* * *

Pain reverberating through his skull made him moan and shift, searching for a more comfortable position. Mitch abruptly realized he was lying on concrete rather than his bed. He blinked and found himself not far from a small flashlight lying on the floor.

His flashlight. It took a few seconds for him to remember that he had been at the scene of a warehouse fire for a meeting with his boss when he’d been hit from behind.

The side of his neck was wet and sticky with blood. With a groan, he forced himself to his knees, grabbed his fallen flashlight, then staggered to his feet. He had no idea if the person who’d assaulted him was still there, and his instincts were screaming at him to get out.

Now!

He took two steps before he remembered the blue jeans. No way could he leave without knowing if the person lying amidst the rubble was alive.

Sweeping his flashlight around the interior of the warehouse, he didn’t see any sign of anyone hanging around. The blackened two-by-four that had been used to hit him was still on the ground, one edge stained with something dark and sticky, and he assumed it was his blood.

Moving as quickly as he could manage with his head pounding and his neck feeling like it was on fire, he made his way back toward the denim-clad legs. As he came closer, he could see the body was that of a woman with long blond hair. She was only partially covered with debris, so he leaned forward to feel for a pulse.

Nothing. He moved a two-by-four and saw the nasty hole in her chest, likely caused by a bullet. Her skin was cold, as if she’d been dead for at least thirty minutes, maybe more. He moved the hair away from her face and froze.

Janice Valencia?

Horror stricken by the fact that he’d once dated the dead woman, he recoiled from the body. He put his hand in his pocket to get his phone to call the authorities, when he heard the wail of sirens.

And suddenly he knew that whoever had assaulted him must have called the police. Was the intent for Mitch to be found here with Janice’s body? For what purpose?

Nothing good. Mitch left the warehouse, stumbling toward his truck. He couldn’t afford to trust the police, not if there was the slightest chance his boss had set him up. Maybe that sounded paranoid, but that’s what happened when you found yourself alone with a dead body. Waiting for the cops and emergency responders to arrive on the scene wasn’t an option.

Not until he understood what in the world was going on.

* * *

Dana Petrie looped her purse over her shoulder and slammed the small metal door of her locker shut so that she could reconnect the padlock. Exhaustion pulled at her, not uncommon after a long eight-hour shift. The stream of patients hadn’t let up all evening, at least in team one, where she’d been assigned. Honestly, she had no idea what had transpired in the rest of the emergency department.

She left the locker room and crossed back through the department, halting midstride when she saw the familiar name on the ER census board next to room twelve.

Mitch Callahan.

Memories crashed through her mind, reminding her of everything she had lost just under three years ago. Her husband of barely a year, Kent, who’d died fighting a fire, and then her miscarriage on the day of Kent’s funeral. Bile surged in the back of her throat, but she swallowed it down with an effort.

She would never be the same woman she’d been back then. Not that it mattered much; these days she focused her energy on saving lives rather than on her barren personal life.

She stared again at the name on the board. Mitch had been a firefighter, too, at the time. She’d heard the story, even read about it in the newspaper, about how he’d carried Kent’s body out of the burning building and had instantly begun CPR. He’d fought hard to save Kent, but her husband had died in spite of Mitch’s heroic efforts.

She’d never thanked him.

At the time, she’d been too traumatized by the miscarriage, especially on the heels of her husband’s death. Then, months later, it had been easier to simply block the memories of the past, doing her best to move forward with her life, despite the twin gaping holes in her heart.

As the months turned into years, she had decided to leave well enough alone. But now Mitch Callahan was in the ER where she worked and her shift was over. Maybe she’d just take a quick moment to pop in to see him, check if he was awake enough that she could offer her gratitude before leaving for the night.

There was no reason to rush home; there was no one waiting for her to return from work. Not even a pet. Just a big, lonely, empty house.

One she’d grown to hate more and more with each passing day. Each time she wanted to sell, Kent’s parents swooped in, demanding to know how she could leave the house she had once shared with their son.

She pushed the troubling thoughts aside.

Almost against her will, her feet took her toward room twelve, tucked in a small alcove at the end of the hall. Through a narrow opening in the privacy curtain hanging across the doorway, she could see a tall male wearing black jeans and a black short-sleeved T-shirt stretched out on a gurney. His feet, encased in black work boots, dangled off the end of the cart. The man had short blond hair and chiseled features. She easily recognized him as Mitch Callahan, which seemed a little odd since she’d met the man only twice before that fateful night. He appeared to be resting with his eyes closed, so she hesitated, loath to disturb him.

She took a step sideways, intending to leave him to rest, but her nursing shoes squeaked loudly against the linoleum floor. His blue eyes shot open and locked unerringly on hers.

No sense in leaving without talking to him now. She swallowed hard and forced herself to walk forward, entering his room. “Hi, I’m sure you don’t remember me...”

“Dana Petrie,” Mitch interrupted in a hoarse voice. “Of course I remember. How are you?” He moved to sit up, then groaned in pain. She could see that he had more than a half dozen stitches along the left side of his neck; the metal tray with discarded supplies was next to his gurney as if the doctor had left in a hurry.

What had happened to him? The jagged wound looked reddened and angry. She couldn’t imagine what had caused the injury that had apparently brought him to the ER.

“I’m glad you came over to talk to me, Dana,” Mitch said. “I forgot you were a nurse here.”

“Yes, well.” She took a deep breath and let it out in a whoosh. “I—uh—only stopped by to say thank you.”

Mitch’s eyes widened. “Thank me? I...always thought you blamed me for...” He didn’t finish, as if unwilling to say her dead husband’s name out loud.

“I don’t,” she said hastily, already regretting her decision to approach him. The last thing she wanted was to rehash the past. “You should rest. I just wanted to say thank you, that’s all.”

“Wait,” he said, when she turned to leave. “Dana, please. I feel terrible about what happened that night.”

“Don’t.” Her voice held a distinct edge. “I’d rather not talk about it. Just let me say thanks, okay? I hope you feel better soon.”

“I will,” Mitch said. “But will you do me a favor?”

She hovered near the doorway, eyeing him warily. “What?”

“Find out who my doctor is.” Mitch eased himself up onto one elbow. “I really need to get out of here as soon as possible.”

She wasn’t sure why he was in such a hurry, but nodded. “Sure. You’re in team three, which belongs to Dr. Crowley. I’ll get him for you.”

Before she could move, a man with a dark baseball hat pulled low over his eyes, his face covered by a black mask, roughly entered the room, brushing past her with such force he knocked her off balance. Her body smashed into the metal door frame, making her purse slide off her shoulder to bang against her hip.

“Oomph.” Pain radiated down her arm.

Before she knew exactly what was happening, the man rushed toward Mitch. Her eyes widened in horror when she caught a glimpse of silver near his hand.

Was that a knife?

She opened her mouth to scream but no sound escaped from her tight throat. Mitch reacted instinctively, grabbing the metal tray beside him and bringing it up to block the knife in the nick of time. Discarded supplies flew everywhere. The tip of the blade deflected harmlessly off the metal surface, making the man stumble.

Mitch used the tray as a weapon, bringing it down hard on the guy’s head with a loud thunk. The man went down, sprawling inelegantly across the foot of the gurney. Mitch instantly yanked his feet out from beneath the guy’s frame, rolled off the cart and staggered upright. He moved swiftly toward Dana, latching onto her arm.

“I need the closest way out of here,” he said in a low, harsh voice.

She was just as anxious to get away from the man moaning in pain on the gurney. “This way.” She ducked out of the room, glancing around the ER. There were a couple of security guards gathered around a room where some patient was screaming in pain, loud enough to have muffled the noise from Mitch’s room. She directed Mitch to the stairwell located just a few feet from his room.

The stairs only went up, because the ER was located on the street level.

“Who was that man?” she asked, leading the way up to the second floor.

“I don’t know,” Mitch said. “I didn’t get a good look at his face, did you?”

“No, he was wearing a mask.” She reached the top step just as they heard the doorway crash open from below and the sounds of heavy footsteps thudding against the stairs.

The guy was following them!

“Hurry,” she urged, grasping Mitch’s arm. “This way.” She picked up the pace, running along a darkened hallway heading toward a stairwell on the opposite side of the building that she knew would lead them outside.

Where were the hospital security guards? She knew they had cameras posted in dozens of locations, mostly in the main thoroughfares, not in patient rooms. Still, someone must have noticed them fleeing from a guy with a knife.

But the only sounds echoing around them were their own footsteps and their own heavy breathing.

If she was on speaking terms with God, she might have prayed, but the words wouldn’t form in her mind. Instead, she focused on moving as fast as possible away from the man threatening them.

The minute they cleared the doorway of the stairwell across the hall, Mitch caught the door, making sure it closed soundlessly behind them. She understood he was trying to hide their location from the knife-wielding guy following them, so she did her best to step quietly as she headed back down to the main level of the hospital.

Moments later, they burst through the lower level of the stairwell, into the balmy summer night. It felt good to be outside the constricting walls of the building.

“Do you have a car here?” Mitch asked.

“Of course. But shouldn’t we talk to the police?”

“No. We need to get out of here.”

She hesitated, unsure of why he was in such a hurry to leave without notifying the authorities. The adrenaline rushing through her veins ebbed away, leaving her feeling weak and shaky.

“Okay, fine. This way,” she said, gesturing for him to follow her across the surface parking lot to the concrete structure looming before them.

Mitch positioned himself behind her as she wove through the parked cars to the spot where she’d left her small two-door sedan.

She dug into her purse for her keys, using the fob to unlock the vehicle. She slid behind the wheel, leaving Mitch to fold himself into the passenger seat. The area along the side of his neck was awash with fresh blood, and she realized he must have broken open his stitches.

“You’re bleeding. We need to get you back inside,” she said, turning toward him. “You’ll need several of those sutures repaired.”

“No time. Let’s go. Hurry!”

With a sigh she started the engine and backed out of the parking space. As soon as she put the car in Drive and rolled forward, she saw him.

The guy wearing the face mask was sprinting across the open parking area, heading straight toward them, his hand still gripping the knife.

“Go, go, go!” Mitch shouted.

She hit the accelerator and sent the car flying through the structure. She took a corner, heading away from the man, which also brought them closer to the exit. Thankfully, she was on the first floor and the gate was up, so she didn’t have to slow down too much.

After exiting the structure, she cranked the wheel hard to the right, taking them far away from the bright lights of the hospital into the inky darkness. Risking a glance at her rearview mirror, she tried to see where the guy was.

There was no sign of him. Her shoulders slumped in relief, until it hit her.

Obviously, he must have a car there, too. Was he right now jumping inside to follow them?

“Take another right,” Mitch said, drawing her attention from the knife guy. “The freeway on-ramp isn’t far.”

“The freeway?” She glanced at him in confusion. “Where are we going?”

“Anywhere. Preferably as far away from this hospital as possible,” he muttered in a grim tone. “We need to make sure he hasn’t followed us.”

She couldn’t deny she wanted the exact same thing. She drove through the night, the bitter taste of fear coating her tongue.

The events that had taken place in the past few minutes seemed unreal. The more she thought about it, the less it made sense.

“But why?” she pressed, tightening her grip on the steering wheel. “Why would he follow us? I don’t understand what’s going on.”

“Frankly, I don’t, either.” Mitch tentatively felt along the side of his neck, where the oozing blood was beginning to congeal into a tacky mess. “But I have a bad feeling I’m being set up.”

She took the on-ramp and pressed the accelerator down to get up to freeway speed. As her compact car ate up the miles, her thoughts whirled.

Had Mitch suffered some kind of head injury? Or was he just being paranoid? There was no denying the knife-wielding guy had intended to cause him harm, but to show up at the hospital? Who did that? This whole situation was downright crazy.

“Set up for what, exactly?” she asked.

Mitch was silent for a long moment before he finally spoke. “Murder.”

TWO

Bracing himself with one hand wedged against the glove compartment, Mitch scanned the area, trying to think of a way out of this disastrous turn of events.

He hated the fact that he’d dragged sweet Dana Petrie into it, too, but there hadn’t been another option. No way was he leaving her behind. Not considering that his assailant knew what she looked like. Although there had been something about the way he moved that seemed familiar. If only he’d gotten a look at his face.

“Murder?” Dana’s voice rose a notch. “What are you talking about?”

There were several sets of headlights behind them, making him nervous. What if one of them belonged to his attacker? “Take the next exit,” he directed. “We need to change directions.”

“No.” Dana’s mouth thinned into a stubborn line. She’d cut her blue-black hair since the last time he’d seen her, wearing it in a chin-length silky bob that accented her dainty features. She was as beautiful as he remembered. “I’m not driving around willy-nilly until you tell me exactly what’s going on. Why do you think you’re being set up for murder?”

He ignored the ache in his head and forced himself to concentrate. “Please,” he said in a low voice. “Please take the next exit. I promise I’ll explain everything, but I need to be certain that man isn’t following us.”

“Fine,” she muttered harshly, taking her foot off the accelerator and heading toward the exit. “Happy? Now start talking.”

“I was attacked earlier this evening at the site of a warehouse fire,” Mitch said. “Just before I was hit from behind, I saw a pair of jean-clad legs sticking out from a pile of rubble.”

She stopped at a stoplight, then turned to face him. “What makes you think the body was a result of murder?”

“The light’s turned green,” he said.

She scowled and hit the gas. “You’re not making any sense.”

He rubbed his temple and acknowledged she was right. He needed to start at the very beginning. “My boss, Fire Chief Rick Nelson, left me a message telling me to meet him at the warehouse at nine,” he explained. “I didn’t get the message right away, so I was almost thirty minutes late. When I arrived at the warehouse, which also happened to be the site of a recent fire that I deemed to be caused by arson, I thought the place was empty. But then I went inside and saw a pair of jean-clad legs in the beam of my flashlight. Before I could go over to investigate, someone hit me from behind. I turned, so the strike connected along the side of my neck and shoulder, but there was enough force that I fell to the ground. My head bounced on the concrete.” He gingerly felt along the back of his head, fingering a lump the size of a golf ball.

“Should I keep going straight? Or head west?” Dana asked when she came to the next intersection.

“West.” He didn’t have a destination in mind, other than to avoid going to his place or hers. There was the slim possibility that the guy chasing them might have gotten her license plate number.

“I still don’t understand.” Dana turned the steering wheel to head west. “The police are notified for each ambulance call. They would have met up with you here in the ER and would have placed you under arrest if you were suspected of murder.”

“I’m aware of how it works,” he said in a dry tone. “A few of my brothers are cops. Thankfully, I only blacked out for a few minutes. When I came to, I went over to check on the person lying half buried in the debris. The body was that of a young woman with long blond hair, and she was dead from a gunshot wound to her chest.” He wasn’t quite ready to admit that he not only knew the dead woman but had dated her a year earlier. “I heard the sirens and knew that whoever had hit me must have called the police. I managed to get away before they arrived.”

“You drove yourself to the hospital,” she concluded.

“Yes. My goal was to get stitched up and quickly discharged. I didn’t anticipate that I’d be found and attacked again.” He was ticked off at how ruthlessly the guy had come after him, not even caring about injuring an innocent woman in the process. Then again, maybe he was the same guy who’d murdered Janice Valencia in the first place? If that was the case, the guy was capable of anything. “I’m sorry for dragging you into this mess.”

“It’s hardly your fault,” she said, but her tone lacked conviction. “Do you want me to take you home?”

He closed his eyes and shook his head. “I can’t go home. This guy obviously knows who I am. Which means he’ll easily be able to figure out where I live. I have no idea why someone has decided to frame me, but it must involve the dead girl somehow.”

“Okay, so where to, then?” Thinly veiled frustration convinced him that Dana was clearly anxious to get rid of him, not that he could blame her.

“Maybe a motel,” he said, thinking out loud.

“A motel?” She raised an eyebrow. “Why not get in touch with your family?”

“I’m not putting them in danger.” He considered giving Miles a call, but it was already approaching midnight. Better to wait until morning. Miles was a Milwaukee homicide detective, but he also happened to have his hands full with a new baby son.

His other brother, Matt, was a K-9 officer but he was currently on his honeymoon with his new bride, Lacy. His mother and grandmother were taking care of Rory, Lacy’s newly adopted son, and Duchess, Matt’s canine partner.

Dana let out a heavy sigh. “Okay, fine. There’s no need to stay in a motel. You can bunk at my place. But only until the morning, understand?”

As much as he was touched by her offer, there was no way she was going home, either. “Listen, Dana, I need you to understand that you could be in danger now, too. Unfortunately, I can’t let you go home. Not yet. It’s not safe.”

The car swerved as she turned to gape at him. “What are you talking about? I’m not the target here, you are. This is your problem, Mitch Callahan, not mine!”

He winced, wishing there was something he could say to smooth things over. Wasn’t it bad enough that he’d failed to save her rookie firefighter husband’s life three years ago? To think she’d actually come over to thank him, only to be placed in harm’s way!

“I’m sorry, Dana. But I think we have to assume the guy may have gotten your license plate number.”

“So what if he did? Are you saying he has the connections to find my home address? To track me down?”

She had a point, but he couldn’t get over the fact that his boss had been the one to set up the meeting at the warehouse. Especially after handing him all of Jeff Walker’s cases where he’d found several irregularities. What did it mean? Why would Rick try to set him up? Or had the phone call been someone pretending to be his boss? No, that didn’t make sense, either; the call had come from Rick’s office number. Not many people had access to the office of the fire chief.

The throbbing in his head hurt the more he considered the various scenarios, none of which sat well.

And how did Janice fit in? He felt sick that she’d been killed. They had broken up a year ago, after he’d found her in bed with another guy, Simon Wylan, also a firefighter. But that seemed to be a weak motive to set him up for murder.

“Well?” Dana demanded, looking madder than a queen bee.

“Yes, I’m afraid it is possible he could track you down. And that’s a risk I’m not willing to take.” He reached out to lightly touch her arm. She was still wearing a pair of bright green scrubs, the color matching her eyes, topped with a thin scrub jacket that was white and decorated with shamrocks. “Please, Dana. I need you to go along with me on this. We’ll get adjoining rooms. I just need a little time.”

“Time for what?” she asked, her voice brittle. She didn’t look toward him at all, but kept her gaze focused on the road.

He hesitated, considered how to best encourage her to go along with his plan. “Time to make sure that you’re safe.”

There was a long pause as a full minute went by. Then another.

Finally she let out a heavy sigh. “Fine. I’ll agree to this crazy madness for now. But not one second longer than necessary, understand?”

“I do. Thank you.” He dropped his hand from her arm, relieved that he didn’t have to fight with her anymore. “Do you know where The American Lodge is? I know the owner—he’s a retired firefighter and a friend of mine.”

“Yes.” She didn’t say anything more and he didn’t push her. Right now, he was satisfied to have a destination in mind.

Mitch put his hand to his neck in an attempt to assess the damage he’d done to the wound. It throbbed painfully, as did the lump on his head.

“Don’t touch it,” Dana said, her sharp tone making him quickly drop his hand. “Check inside the glove compartment, I have tissues and hand sanitizer in there. We’ll take them inside with us so I can clean up that incision.”

He found the items and set them in the empty cup holder in the console between them.

Ten minutes later, Dana pulled into the parking lot of The American Lodge. He slid out of the passenger seat, wishing there was a way to hide the bloodstained shirt he was wearing. Thankfully, The American Lodge was used to dealing with the Callahans; in fact, Matt had recently paid for extensive repairs several months ago, which had given them extra brownie points. The damage hadn’t been entirely his brother’s fault, but they’d pooled their money to pay for it anyway. So when he presented himself at the front desk, the woman behind the counter didn’t give him any trouble, obviously recognizing his name. She took his offered cash and slid two plastic key cards across the counter.

“Thanks.” Mitch walked back outside and found Dana standing near her compact car, her arms crisscrossed over her chest. “Here, you’re in room three. I’ll be next door in room four.”

She took the card, slipped it into the pocket of her scrub jacket and got back in behind the wheel. He reached in to take the tissues and sanitizer, then walked over to the motel door, leaving her to park the car.

He unlocked his side of the connecting door and then sat down in a chair at the small table to wait. A few minutes later, Dana unlocked her side and stepped through the opening, carrying an ice bucket full of warm water and towels tucked under her arm.

“I need to cut part of your T-shirt collar out of the way,” she said, pulling a pair of bandage scissors out of her pocket. He wondered what else she had in there and counted his blessings that she was a nurse capable of providing care.

“Have at it,” he said.

She didn’t hesitate, and he found himself mesmerized by the intensity of her green gaze as she worked on him. After cutting away the bloodstained fabric of his shirt around his neckline, she began cleaning the wound. Then she tsk-tsked under her breath.

“Three stitches need to be replaced,” she said, taking a step back. “Leaving it open will only increase the risk of infection.”

He didn’t like it, but nodded. “Okay. Can you do it?”

“Me?” Her eyes widened comically. “Are you crazy? I need a sterile needle, suture, instruments...” Her voice trailed off. “No.”

“Come on, you can improvise. I saw a small sewing kit in your glove compartment,” he said. “There’s a book of matches in the lobby, too.”

She stared at him for a long moment. “You really won’t go back to the hospital?”

“No, I can’t. It’s too dangerous.”

She sighed again and tipped her head back to stare at the ceiling, as if she might find answers written there. “You understand the risk of infection? And how much this will hurt? I’ll need to clean the area with the sanitizer, which will burn like mad.”

“Better pain than infection and death.”

Her lips thinned; she was clearly not happy with his suggestion, but then she abruptly turned and went back outside to find the sewing kit and matches.

Another hurdle cleared. But he had no idea how many other barriers he’d have to navigate before getting to the truth of who’d killed Janice and why.

And even more important, who hated him enough to frame him for her murder?

* * *

Dana tried not to think too much about what she was about to do as she gathered everything she needed to replace the three sutures in Mitch’s incision. How had this happened? How was it that she had ended up here, providing care to Mitch Callahan while he hid from the law? This kind of thing didn’t happen to her. Her life was boring—well, other than the variety of patient scenarios she encountered at work.

Oddly enough, her earlier exhaustion had vanished, leaving an unusual sense of exhilaration in its wake. She told herself it was because she was just as crazy as Mitch for agreeing to his harebrained scheme, but deep down, she knew that wasn’t really the source.

The sad truth was that she’d been living by rote. Work, eat, sleep and work. Volunteer at the local food pantry, then go back to repeat the process all over again.

Giving herself a mental shake, she focused on the task at hand. First she used a match to sterilize the needle, then threaded it with black thread. She washed her hands with the antimicrobial solution.

“This is going to burn,” she reminded him, before pouring a dollop of hand sanitizer on his neck. Using the tips of her fingers, she cleaned the area around the incision. To Mitch’s credit, he held himself perfectly still and didn’t utter a sound.

“Okay.” She took a deep breath and picked up the needle and thread. She’d learned how to suture in nursing school, during a rotation in the operating room, but that was different. The patients were under general anesthesia and couldn’t feel the needle poking through their skin. And nurses didn’t place stitches in the ER, doctors did.

She braced her hip against Mitch’s chair, taking another couple of deep breaths. For some odd reason she was far too aware of the scent of his skin, something pine beneath the faint smell of smoke.

“Are you okay?” Mitch asked.

He was the patient, asking her if she was okay. Pathetic. Enough of being a wimp about this.

“Fine. It’s going to hurt,” she said, pressing the tip of the needle against his skin.

He sucked in a breath but didn’t move or make any other sound of distress. Sweat beaded at her temples and the room felt impossibly warm. She passed the needle through the other side, then used the thread to pull the edges of his skin together. She tied the knot, cut the thread with the bandage scissors and released her pent-up breath. “One down, two more to go.”

“You’re doing great,” he encouraged, as if this whole thing was harder on her than it was on him.

“So are you,” she murmured. She subtly wiped her temple on the sleeve of her scrub jacket, wishing there was a way to do this without hurting him. There wasn’t, so she resolutely picked up the needle again and went back to work. This time, she tried to keep going steadily along, figuring that the sooner she repaired the wound, the sooner she could stop hurting him and the sooner he’d feel better.

“There! All finished,” she said, clipping the thread to the last suture. “Just let me clean it up one more time, okay?”

“You’re the boss.”

That brought forth a rusty chuckle. “Not hardly. No one has ever called me that before.”

When she finished cleaning the area around the incision, she stepped back and surveyed her handiwork. It wouldn’t win any prizes for being pretty; her sutures were big and clumsy next to the neat ones that Dr. Crowley had placed.

But they’d hold, which was all that mattered. Now, if only she had some oral antibiotics to give him...

“Thank you,” Mitch said in a low, husky voice. “I appreciate your expertise.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, surprised at the lump that had risen in the back of her throat. Why was she getting all emotional about this? She looked into Mitch’s blue eyes and tension shimmered between them, making her hyperaware of him.

What was wrong with her? She broke away from his mesmerizing gaze and reached out to begin cleaning up the mess. But Mitch reached out and captured her hands in his.

“I mean it, Dana,” he said. “I feel terrible about how you’ve been dragged into this. I wish there was something I could do to make it up to you.”

She stared at their joined hands. His grasp was warm, his skin tanned by the summer sun a striking contrast to her pale fingers.

“I—I have to go.” She pulled her hands from his and turned so quickly she almost plowed face-first into the television perched on the top of a low dresser. “Good night,” she managed, as she rushed through the doorway of their connecting rooms, closing her side and locking it behind her.

Safe at last, she leaned back against the door and put a hand over her racing heart. She felt breathless and dizzy, as if she’d run a marathon rather than briefly holding hands with Mitch Callahan.

No, they hadn’t been holding hands. She tipped her head back, thudding it against the door as if to knock some sense into her brain. He’d been thanking her, that’s all. Apologizing for her being attacked at the hospital.

She needed to pull herself together. She’d loved and lost Kent and their baby. She was not going down that path again.

And especially not with a guy like Mitch, with ties to the firefighting community. Loving people who put their lives on the line each day wasn’t for her.

With resolute determination, she pushed herself away from the door and made her way into the bathroom. First thing tomorrow, she was going home.

Mitch was a threat to her emotional equilibrium. She needed to return to the mundane routine of her life.

And stay far, far away from Mitch Callahan.

THREE

Mitch groaned when he heard Dana’s side of the connecting door slam shut followed by the unmistakable click of the dead bolt shooting into place.

What was the matter with him? Dana might have come over to his ER room to thank him, but that didn’t mean she liked him.

In fact, dragging her into his mess likely made her dislike him even more. And it was understandable. He had failed her husband and placed her in danger. He absolutely needed to ensure her safety.

But how?

The throbbing in his temples pulsed along with the ache in his neck. He pushed himself upright and went into the bathroom to wash up. His reflection in the mirror made him grimace.

His skin was streaked with black soot mixed with blood. His looks alone could have scared her away. Craning his head to the right, he checked out the incision. It looked good, although he would have given a lot for a bottle of ibuprofen.

After washing away the grime while steering clear of the incision, he went over to stretch out on the bed. He needed some sort of action plan because clearly Dana wasn’t going to stick around for long.

The thought of her driving away tonight had him lunging back to his feet. He crossed over and parted the curtains over the window so he could look out at the parking lot. Her car was still there, but for how long?

He was tempted to go out and remove the distributor cap so she couldn’t leave. The thought of her heading home and being found by the knife-wielding man made him feel sick.

Yet there was also the possibility that they might need to leave here in a hurry.

No, disabling the car was out of the question. He’d just have to trust that Dana would stay until morning, the way she’d promised.

He let the drapes fall back into place and moved away. Unfortunately, women didn’t necessarily keep their promises. At least, Janice hadn’t. When he had caught her with Simon, he’d been shocked, appalled and hurt. The only good news about the whole thing was that he had found out the truth before he’d asked her to marry him.

Old news, he reminded himself. He might not understand why she had bothered stringing him along, but it didn’t matter. Just because his brothers and his sister seemed to have been bitten by the lovebug didn’t mean he had to follow in their footsteps.

Although the idea of being a loner like his brother Mike didn’t sit well, either. Regardless, he had bigger issues to worry about. Janice might not have been faithful, but she certainly hadn’t deserved to die.

And how on earth could his attacker have gotten into his boss’s office to use his phone? He just couldn’t wrap his mind around the idea that Rick Nelson had set him up deliberately. With Jeff gone, Mitch was the only fire investigator on staff, at least until Rick found a replacement. Word on the street was that several former firefighters had applied for the job, Mitch’s old buddy Paul Roscoe being one of them. In fact, Paul had asked him for a reference, which he’d gladly given.

Questions whirled around in his mind until he fell into a troubled doze. Every creak and muffled thump from other motel guests woke him up, making him go still while staring through the darkness.

By the time morning had dawned, he had given up trying to sleep and dragged himself upright. He went over to see if Dana’s car was still there and was relieved when he saw the compact vehicle.

She hadn’t left yet. He wanted a shower, but knew he couldn’t get the stitches wet. Instead, he made a cup of coffee in the small coffee maker.

As he sipped from the cup, he tried to think of a way to assure that Dana would be safe returning to her home. He’d rather she didn’t go back there, at least not right away. Could he convince her to go to her in-laws? Maybe. He remembered how Kent’s parents had stood by her during the funeral. Surely they’d stayed close over the years.

If not her in-laws, then maybe some other friend. Someone who wouldn’t mind a houseguest for a couple of days.

A male friend? He inwardly grimaced, then realized he was being ridiculous. Why wouldn’t she be dating? She hadn’t mentioned having a boyfriend, but it wouldn’t be surprising if she was seeing someone. Kent had been gone three years.

Yet the way she’d gone pale when he’d taken her hands in his gave him the impression that she hadn’t moved on with her life. The idea that she might have shut herself off from men made him feel guilty all over again.

If only he could go back to that fateful night. He had had his doubts about Kent Petrie coming along on the call so soon after his training. Mitch had asked Paul for his opinion, and his buddy had thought Kent would be okay. Mitch had tried one last time to convince Kent to stay with the truck and man the hose, but the rookie hadn’t wanted to be kept out of the action. So Mitch had reluctantly agreed to let him take a flanker position, thinking if he kept the rookie close, he’d be able to keep an eye on him.

Only the fire had gotten out of hand really fast. There had been flammable material of some sort stored in a remote corner of the building that suddenly blew up with a ferocious roar, turning the fire directly toward them. Kent had freaked out a bit, clawing at his face mask, and that was when Mitch had realized the seal wasn’t tight enough and smoke was seeping up inside the mask, clogging Kent’s nose, mouth and eyes.

When Kent had collapsed, Mitch had tossed the kid over his shoulder and gotten him out of there as fast as humanly possible. But it had still taken much longer than he’d expected. The fire was so intense, he’d felt the breath of the dragon searing him from behind.

By the time he had gotten Kent outside and begun CPR, he’d known it was already too late. But he’d refused to stop, continuing to pump the young man’s chest in a fifteen-stroke rhythm while a paramedic on scene tried to force oxygen into his smoke-damaged lungs.

Kent had been declared dead thirty minutes later at barely twenty-three years old.

Yet Dana had come over to thank him. And what had he done in return?

Drawn her smack-dab into the middle of danger.

He was so lost in his thoughts, his coffee had grown cold. He forced it down and prepared to make a second cup. He briefly considered reaching out to Paul for help, but decided it wasn’t a good idea to put his buddy in danger, as well. When his coffee had finished brewing, he heard the sounds of Dana moving around next door.

Maybe he could hire his brother Mike, the only Callahan sibling to refuse to follow their father’s wishes of choosing careers that served the community. Mike ran his own private investigator business, and it was possible that he’d agree to watch over Dana for a while, until Mitch could be sure their assailant hadn’t used her license plate number to obtain her home address.

He and Mike had grown closer lately, partially because Mike was the only other Callahan who wasn’t married and popping out kids. As single guys, they’d banded together. Not that Mitch didn’t love his family, because he did. But their weekly Sunday brunches had gotten exponentially more crowded since three of his brothers and his sister had all fallen in love and gotten married.

He had imagined he’d go down that same path with Janice, and when that plan had crashed and burned, he decided Mike was right. Staying single was a lot easier than being in a relationship.

He pulled out his cell phone—the screen was cracked, but it still worked—and put in a call to his brother. Mike didn’t answer, so he left a message briefly explaining the events from last night and outlining his plan to hire him to watch over Dana.

When he disconnected from the call, he felt better having at least the semblance of a plan. Not perfect, but not terrible, either. Once he knew Dana was safe, he’d get in touch with Miles to let him know about Janice Valencia’s murder and the attempt to frame him.

The door between their connecting rooms opened and Dana hovered in the doorway, looking beautiful and fresh, as if she’d enjoyed a good night’s sleep. Too bad he couldn’t say the same.

“Would you like me to drop you off somewhere on my way home?” she asked, sipping from her own cup of coffee.

The fact that she was telling him her plans, not asking, was no surprise. He had anticipated something like this. And her offer to give him a ride was more than he’d dared to hope for.

“Yes, that would be great.” He approached cautiously, sipping his coffee and keeping an easy smile on his face. “I appreciate the offer.”

“I’d like to get going in the next fifteen minutes or so, if that’s okay.” She didn’t meet his gaze and he felt bad that he’d crossed some sort of invisible line last night. Making her feel uncomfortable was the last thing he’d wanted to do.

“Fine with me.”

“Good.” She stepped back and turned away. Moments later, he heard the door to her motel room open and close.

He quickly finished his coffee and joined her outside. It looked to be another nice summer day, and he wondered if she was scheduled to work again later that afternoon.

Dana didn’t say much as she slid in behind the wheel. He folded his large frame into the passenger seat, sliding the seat back as far as it would go so he had more leg room.

Once they were back on the highway, she turned to glance at him. “Do you want me to drop you off at the hospital so you can pick up your car? You should probably see the doctor again anyway. You need a course of antibiotics.”

“No, thanks. I’d like to check out your place, make sure it’s safe before I leave you there alone.”

She frowned, obviously annoyed, and her fingers tightened on the steering wheel. “That’s not necessary.”

“It is to me,” he said in a firm tone. If she insisted on taking him to the hospital, he’d lose precious time finding her address and then heading over to her house. And what if Mike hadn’t gotten his message yet? Mitch couldn’t stand the thought of her being alone and vulnerable.

“I’ll take you to the hospital,” she stubbornly repeated. “I’m sure that guy didn’t get my license plate number. It was dark and he was chasing us—I doubt he was able to memorize it that quickly.”

He hoped and prayed she was right. “Please humor me,” he said in a low voice. “It’s bad enough that you had to help me escape. Please let me be sure you’re safe. Once I know that your house is clear, I’ll go away and you’ll never hear from me again.”

There was a long pause before she gave a curt nod. “Fine.”

He let out his breath in a soundless sigh. “Thank you.”

She didn’t say anything more, but headed home. He recognized the neighborhood, a little surprised she and Kent were able to afford a house there. It was high-class, full of newly built homes on streets named after various birds. He knew what a rookie firefighter’s salary was, and while a nurse likely did pretty well, he was still surprised to see the home that was more than twice the size of his modest place.

“Wow,” he said when she pulled up in front of the garage. “You have a really nice home.”

She scowled. “Yeah. It’s big all right.”

He raised an eyebrow at her less-than-enthusiastic response. “Let me go in first, okay?”

She rolled her eyes and slid out from behind the wheel. “It’s not like you’re armed. What are you going to do if someone is here?”

Good point. “Do me a favor and stay in the car while I make sure the house is empty.”

“Use the code on the garage to get in. It’s 7272.” She slid back in behind the wheel and put the keys in the ignition.

He entered through the garage, staying off to one side as the door rolled upward. The garage was clean and mostly empty except for a few bins that were labeled as Christmas decorations.

No one was in there, so he made his way to the door leading into the house. He opened it as softly as possible and eased his way inside.

The garage door led into a spacious laundry room and from there, into the kitchen. The kitchen faced the spacious backyard through a set of patio doors. He moved silently through Dana’s house, looking for any sign that someone might have been there. The windows were all closed up tight, the air cool from the central air-conditioning. He preferred fresh air, but in this case he was glad she had kept everything closed up. Made it safer for her in the long run.

He didn’t find anything out of place. In fact the kitchen, living room and guest bedrooms were almost obsessively neat and tidy. Was that Dana’s doing? Must be, since it didn’t appear that she shared the place with anyone else.

The house was big so it took him a while to clear it. And when he came to the master suite, he felt like he was violating her personal space, opening up her closets, looking under her bed and checking the shower stall.

When he returned to the garage a good fifteen minutes later, he found that Dana had already parked inside and was standing next to her vehicle, resting one hand on her purse, as she tapped her foot impatiently on the cement.

“Everything is clear,” he said. “Thanks for giving me time to check it out. Makes me feel better to know you’re safe.”

She straightened and nodded. “Okay, but how are you going to get back to your car?”

“I’ll walk, it’s not that far, just a couple of miles. It will give me time to think.” He wanted to take her hand in his, but forced himself to stay back. Touching her had upset her before; he didn’t want to make the same mistake again. “Thanks again for all your help.” He turned to walk down the driveway.

“Mitch, wait.” Dana’s voice stopped him and he glanced at her over her shoulder. “I’ll drive you to the hospital. No reason for you to walk.”

“No need, I’d rather you stay home, where it’s safe.” He wondered where in the world Mike was. Glancing down at his phone, he didn’t see a response via text. Sometimes when Mike was on a stakeout, he turned off the volume on his phone, but he should have seen Mitch’s attempt to call by now.

“You’re being ridiculous,” Dana said, her voice sharp with temper. Maybe she hadn’t gotten a good night’s sleep, either. “I’m not in danger, you are. Yet you want to stroll down the street in the daylight for anyone to see you? Maybe you sustained a head injury because that’s the only excuse I can see for your lack of reason.”

“Having you stay here safe and sound is perfectly reasonable,” he countered.

Come on, Mike, where are you?

When Dana moved to get back into her car, he came rushing back up the driveway. “Okay, how about this? You go inside and I’ll hang around in the garage for a little bit. I’ll call my brother for a ride.”

She paused, nodded, then slammed the driver’s-side door shut. “Okay. I guess that will work.”

“Great. I promise I’ll be out of your hair soon.”

For the first time that morning the corner of her mouth tipped up in the barest hint of a smile. “Yeah, why do I find that so hard to believe?”

Dana was so beautiful, especially when she smiled. Yet he sensed she hadn’t been very happy over the past few years. Why had it been so hard for her to move past Kent’s death? Losing a spouse was horrible, but three years also seemed like a long time.

He tucked his hands in the back pockets of his jeans, more to keep himself from reaching for her than anything else.

“Thanks again,” he said as she walked into the house.

“You’re welcome, again,” she said before letting the door close behind her.

He pulled out his phone and checked for a response from Mike.

Nothing.

He stared at the quiet suburban street. Dana’s house was on Cardinal Avenue, and the lots were spacious, easily a half acre or more, providing a nice cushion of space between neighbors. Where was everyone? It was almost eight o’clock in the morning. Either these people had already headed off to work or they were enjoying a leisurely Thursday, sitting indoors. But where were the kids? It was summer, shouldn’t they already be outside playing?

The quiet stillness of the neighborhood was a bit eerie. A little too Stepford-like for his taste. It made him wonder why on earth Dana continued to live here in the house she’d shared with Kent.

Whoa, why did he care? Dana Petrie’s personal life wasn’t his business. His only responsibility was to keep her safe from harm.

He looked at his phone again. Maybe it was time to call Miles. His other brother should be up by now, and he could really use Miles’s advice on how to handle Janice’s murder.

Especially as he had been set up to be the primary suspect. Sure, he had gotten out of there before the police arrived, but thanks to the beam hitting him, he’d left his blood behind at the crime scene.

Possibly fingerprints, too, from when he’d gone over to check on Janice. It was only a matter of time before the cops came looking for him.

The image of his former girlfriend lying in the rubble was burned into his memory. Even though their relationship had ended badly, he’d never wished her any harm. Certainly nothing like a bullet to the chest.

One thing he had learned from Miles was that when a woman was found murdered, the initial suspect was always her boyfriend, fiancé or husband. He wondered if she had still been seeing Simon Wylan, and if so, where he’d been last night. If Simon had killed Janice in a fit of anger, it wasn’t a stretch to figure the best way to push the blame somewhere else was to implicate the former boyfriend.

It was even possible that Simon could have found some excuse to get inside the fire chief’s office. Yep, the more he thought about it, the more it made sense that somehow Wylan was the mastermind behind this.

If only he’d gotten a better look at the guy during the scuffle in the ER. But with the mask hiding the guy’s face and the fog in his brain from being hit on the head, he hadn’t gotten a clear view. There had been something familiar, though, so maybe it had been Simon after all.

His phone rang, jarring him from his thoughts. Mike, finally. He pushed the button and brought the phone to his ear. “Hey, I need a lift.”

“I’m on my way. I just got your message. What’s going on?” Mike demanded.

Mitch winced. “Long story. I’ll work with Miles to get my name cleared, but I also need you to help me keep an eye on Dana Petrie, an ER nurse who helped me escape. I’m worried the guy who attacked me will come after her.”

“I should be there in five to ten minutes tops,” Mike assured him. “And you probably won’t be able to get in touch with Miles—he’s been up all night working the murder scene at the burned warehouse.”

Mitch closed his eyes against a wave of frustration. That wasn’t good news. There was no way he could put his brother in a position of sheltering a suspect.

He needed a plan B. “Okay, I’ll figure something out later. But I still need a ride. And someone to watch over Dana.”

“See you soon,” Mike said.

Mitch counted minutes in his head as he stared out at the road. He straightened when he noticed a large black truck with tinted windows rolling slowly down the street. It stopped at the intersection and then made the right turn onto Cardinal. The tiny hairs on the back of his neck rose in alarm and he quickly hit the button to close the garage door.

The door slowly cranked down. Not good enough. He barreled into the house, startling Dana badly enough that she dropped a plate heaping with scrambled eggs, too many for one person.

In a tiny corner of his mind, he was touched she’d cooked for him, but there wasn’t any time to savor the moment. “We gotta go. Out the back, now!”

“What?”

“Hurry!” He nudged her toward the patio doors, but she resisted, grabbing her purse before going along with him. He unlocked and opened the door that lead into the backyard. He heard the sound of the truck engine abruptly stopping.

“Run!” He pushed her ahead of him so that he could protect her from behind. She had changed clothes and wore a green blouse and faded blue jeans. She took off running through the backyard, her purse bouncing against her shoulder as she dodged between a pair of large trees. He liked the way she was finding cover and followed close on her heels.

Dana zigged right, and he felt something whizz past him. It took a minute for him to see the dart lodged in the side of Dana’s purse.

What in the world was going on? Why was the guy in the black truck shooting at them with a tranquilizer gun? Mitch didn’t like how he’d gotten so close to hitting Dana. He plucked the dart from her bag and slid it into his back pocket. Then he latched onto her arm, making sure to follow her more closely, urging her to continue taking twists and turns.

After several minutes of running through people’s yards, they found a small squat shed. She stopped for a moment to catch her breath, and he used the time to call Mike.

“Change of plans, the bad guy showed up at Dana’s. We’ll meet you at the corner of Robin and Wren, understand?”

“Got it.”

He slid his phone back into his pocket and looked at Dana, whose green eyes were wide with fear. “My brother will meet up with us. I promise we’ll keep you safe.”

She swallowed hard, tears welling in her eyes, wrenching his heart. He silently prayed for God to keep them safe, but for some reason, praying didn’t alleviate his guilt.

He’d done this. He’d put her in danger.

And he had no idea how to fix it.

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