Mission Statement

Created more than twenty years ago by James Colby, the Colby Agency is now owned and operated by his wife, Victoria. Though relatively small, the agency has garnered a reputation second to none in the business of private investigations and personal security. Victoria Colby is highly respected by law enforcement and is well connected in government agencies where discretion is the operative word.

The Colby Agency employs the very finest in all aspects of investigation and protection. Each of the men and women who represents the agency must possess the qualities that James Colby himself personified: honor, loyalty and courage.

The Colby Agency is the place where clients go when only the absolute best will do.

Physical Evidence
Debra Webb

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Debra Webb was born in Scottsboro, Alabama, to parents who taught her that anything is possible if you want it bad enough. She began writing at age nine. Eventually she met and married the man of her dreams and tried some other occupations, including selling vacuum cleaners, working in a factory, a day care center, a hospital and a department store. When her husband joined the military, they moved to Berlin, Germany, and Debra became a secretary in the commanding general’s office. By 1985 they were back in the States, and they finally moved to Tennessee, to a small town where everyone knows everyone else. With the support of her husband and two beautiful daughters, Debra took up writing again, looking to mystery and movies for inspiration. In 1998 her dream of writing for Harlequin came true. You can write to Debra with your comments at P.O. Box 64, Huntland, Tennessee 37345.

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Alexandra Preston—Trained at Quantico, Alex is one of Victoria Colby’s top investigators. Someone wants her dead, but she can’t remember who or why.

Mitch Hayden—Sheriff of Raleigh County, Tennessee. His attraction to Alex Preston makes him question his deepest loyalty of all—family ties.

Victoria Colby—The head of the Colby Agency.

Zach Ashton—Victoria Colby’s top legal eagle.

Deputy Miller—He was found dead in the car with Alex, who can’t remember what happened. Was Miller trying to give her information or was he trying to shut her up before things went awry?

Phillip Malloy—He has a dirty little secret. Just how far will he go to protect it?

Nadine Malloy—Phillip’s faithful wife. She doesn’t need this case rocking her already-shaky emotional state. She will do whatever it takes to protect her family.

Roy Becker—A deputy who is also Mitch’s cousin. As Phillip’s stepson, Roy doesn’t want his family hurt. But does he know something he’s not telling?

Marija and Jasna Bukovak—Foreign exchange students from Croatia. Jasna has been attending the university in Chicago. As a high school senior, Marija has lived with the Malloys for the past school year. Shortly after graduation she disappeared.

Agent Talkington—The Tennessee Bureau of Investigation agent assigned to investigate a series of murders.

Waylon Gill—A serial killer thought to be responsible for the disappearance of Marija Bukovak.

This book is dedicated to a very special lady who has had a tremendous influence on my writing career. She recognized a diamond in the rough and set to the task of cutting and polishing. It took hard work and perseverance, but she never once gave up. Since we met in 1996, she has made me laugh at myself, cry because I was certain I could never do this writing thing and swell with pride when I knew the work was indeed good. This one is for you, Dianne Hamilton. For all your selfless giving, for your every word of encouragement and simply for being you.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Epilogue

Prologue

Victoria Colby watched the early morning commuters on the busy street beyond the parking lot four stories below. Deep inside, where she harbored her most secret thoughts and feelings, she knew something was very wrong. This September morning would bring bad news. She could feel it in her bones.

Drawing in a deep breath, she considered that she had worked hard since her husband’s death to make the Colby Agency the best in the business. She employed only the very finest in the fields of research and investigation. She knew better than most that no amount of planning or strategy could ward off the unexpected twists and turns life took.

A soft knock on her office door pulled Victoria’s attention back to the present. She stiffened her spine and turned to greet the attorney she had summoned so early this morning.

Zach Ashton entered the office, his expression nothing short of grim. “Is Hayden here yet?”

“Not yet.” Victoria gestured to one of the wing back chairs flanking her desk as she settled into her own. She braced herself for Zach’s report. “Have you been able to reach Alex?”

He shook his head slowly from side to side. “I’ve called at least a dozen times in the past two hours with no luck.” He looked away briefly, and Victoria knew that he was having difficulty considering the possibilities of why Alex had not called in. “I couldn’t reach the Bukovak girl either.”

An uncharacteristic feeling of helplessness welled in Victoria’s chest. The sensation was not completely foreign to her; she had known it well during the long months immediately following her husband’s death. And she’d known it another time that she refused to consider even after all these years. Doggedly pushing it aside, she leveled a determined gaze on her trusted attorney. “We’ll have some answers when Sheriff Hayden arrives.”

Zach stared at the floor for a long moment. Victoria knew that he was assessing the situation and reaching the same conclusions she had. And the bottom line was not good, but neither of them was willing to admit that fact just yet.

Alexandra Preston had worked at the Colby Agency almost as long as Zach. She was very good at her job. Trained at Quantico as a special agent for the FBI, Alex was nobody’s fool. She was attractive, smart and tough. But now she was missing in action. They’d had no contact with her in forty-eight hours. No one stayed out of touch that long unless they were stranded without communications, severely injured…or worse.

Victoria wished she could have saved Zach from this gut-wrenching wait, but he knew Alex better than anyone else in the agency. Victoria needed his input. Usually she avoided teaming two people who had been involved on a personal level, but whatever had been between Zach and Alex was over long ago. Both appeared to have moved on, but they remained close friends. And right now Alex needed Zach on her team, just as Victoria needed his expertise in the upcoming meeting.

Zach lifted a worried gaze to meet Victoria’s. “We could be looking at a very bad situation here. Maybe there’s someone else you’d rather have making assessments. I’m not sure I can be objective. If this is bad news…” His words drifted off to be replaced by a too-solemn silence.

Victoria considered her own words for a long moment before she spoke. “We can only hope for the best, but I doubt that the sheriff from Raleigh County, Tennessee, would drop everything and fly up without strong motivation. As to your involvement, I believe you’re the best man for the job.”

The intercom interrupted whatever Zach intended to say next. “Sheriff Hayden is here,” Mildred announced.

“Show him in, please.” Victoria stood, as did Zach, to welcome the man who had gotten her up at the crack of dawn to demand a meeting.

Sheriff Mitchell Hayden strode across Victoria’s office without hesitating until he stood directly in front of her desk. The first thing that garnered her attention was his too-long hair, which was secured at the back of his neck. The next thing she noted was intense, cool blue eyes.

He extended his hand. “I’m Mitch Hayden, Mrs. Colby. Thank you for seeing me.”

His deep, whiskey-smooth voice carried a hint of an unmistakable southern drawl. He was tall, six-one or two, she surmised. And solidly built. Victoria resisted the urge to frown when she considered his faded jeans and khaki shirt. The work boots didn’t quite fit the bill either. She couldn’t recall meeting a lawman who looked quite like this one.

“Sheriff Hayden,” Victoria acknowledged as she gave his hand a brisk shake. “This is Zach Ashton, the agency’s attorney.”

Already standing, Zach clasped their visitor’s hand next. “I hope your flight was pleasant, Sheriff.”

“It was fine,” he said curtly, then turned his attention back to Victoria. “I have several questions that need answers.”

“Make yourself comfortable, Sheriff.” She indicated the chair adjacent to Zach’s as she resumed her own. “Why don’t you tell me what brings you to Chicago this morning.”

The sheriff’s posture didn’t relax as he sank into the seat she’d offered. He was intent, poised for whatever came his way. “Why does your agency have an investigator nosing around in my county?” he asked bluntly.

“If you mean Alex Preston, you’re right, she is one of my investigators,” Victoria acknowledged. “However, you must be aware that the information regarding the case she is working is private, Sheriff. Was there anything else you wanted to know?”

Only the slightest tightening of his jaw gave away Mitch Hayden’s irritation. Victoria was impressed. The man had traveled a considerable distance to get stone-walled in the first two minutes.

“Don’t jerk me around, Mrs. Colby,” he warned. “I’ve been up all night and I’ve come a long way. I need some answers.”

“Are you here because Alex is in some sort of trouble?” Zach asked pointedly, his courtroom demeanor going a long way to hide his anxiety.

An unbearable silence hung for two long beats.

“I think you already know the answer to that question,” the sheriff replied quietly. Too quietly.

“If something has happened to Alex,” Victoria countered firmly, “I demand that you tell us now.”

He leveled an unreadable gaze fully onto Victoria’s. “One of my deputies is dead, and Alex Preston is in the hospital under protective custody. She’s also my prime suspect.”

Mitch knew he’d gotten their full attention with that announcement. The attorney looked downright sick to his stomach, but the woman, Victoria Colby, seemed almost relieved, as if she’d feared worse. Maybe now Mitch would get some straight answers.

“What happened?” the attorney, Ashton, wanted to know.

“Is Alex all right?” Mrs. Colby demanded.

“She’s fine other than having trouble remembering what happened,” Mitch explained with as little detail as possible. “The two were found in Deputy Miller’s car early yesterday morning by a group of kids who’d camped nearby. Miller was dead. It looks as if they shot each other. There was cocaine in the vehicle.” Mitch paused, allowing them to absorb the ramifications of his words. “If you want to help clear her of a murder charge, I’d suggest that you start talking.”

“I can assure you, Sheriff Hayden,” Mrs. Colby said, more calmly than he would have expected, “that our investigation has nothing to do with drugs, nor is Alex a drug user.”

“You’re skirting the issue,” Mitch snapped. His impatience was showing he knew, but at this point he didn’t really give a damn.

“And you aren’t?” she returned.

This was pointless. “I can get a warrant.”

Mrs. Colby smiled. “Just so you know, Zach is one of the finest attorneys in the country. You may be in for a long wait.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Absolutely not,” Zach said emphatically, offering the sheriff his best, practiced smile. “Just fair warning.”

Mitch suppressed the curse that raced to the tip of his tongue. “Look, I want to get to the bottom of this just as much as you do. And, like you, I know my men. Deputy Miller would never have shot anyone unless it was in self-defense and he sure as hell wasn’t involved in drugs.”

“Sheriff Hayden, I can assure you that we will do whatever it takes to help you determine what happened,” Mrs. Colby offered.

Mitch knew she meant it. He had the distinct impression that Victoria Colby was a woman of her word. But the last thing he needed was further involvement from a civilian agency. All he wanted at the moment was answers.

“So.” Mitch relaxed for the first time in more than twenty-four hours. “Does that mean you’re ready to cooperate?”

“Only if you’re ready to cooperate with us,” she offered frankly.

Mitch inclined his head and considered the no-nonsense lady seated behind the big oak desk. “What will it take to get the information I need now? Today.”

“If your office cooperates completely with mine, then I’ll return the favor,” she explained. “Considering the geography, I would request that one of my people accompany you back to Tennessee. I want a full report on Alex’s well-being. I would also require that my representative be allowed to participate in every aspect of the investigation to clear her name.”

“Is that all?” Mitch asked sarcastically.

She dipped her head in a gesture of acknowledgment. “I believe that will be sufficient.”

Mitch let go a heavy breath. It crossed his mind to simply say no, but he had the feeling that Victoria Colby would not give in quite so easily. She would hold back the information he desperately needed until some judge made her give it up. He didn’t want to waste time. Miller was dead. He’d been a friend as well as one of Mitch’s best deputies. Mitch had every intention of solving this case as quickly as possible. Nothing, not Victoria Colby or her fancy agency, was going to stop him.

“All right, Mrs. Colby. Tell your man to be ready in three hours. That’s when my flight leaves. Now—” Mitch leaned forward in anticipation “—will you give me the details regarding Alex Preston’s case?”

“Certainly,” Mrs. Colby said in an accommodating tone. “Zach will fill you in on the way. There’s no need for you to wait three hours. I’ll have my pilot take the two of you back to Nashville in the agency jet.”

Agency jet? Mitch tamped down his surprise, but couldn’t suppress his renewed irritation. She was hedging again. “The case, Mrs. Colby,” he insisted. “Tell me about the case.”

She stood, effectively dismissing him. “Zach will answer your questions en route. I want him with Alex ASAP. She’s entitled to legal representation.”

Frowning, Mitch pushed hesitantly to his feet. Just what he needed, some hotshot, smart-mouth attorney dogging his every step. Especially one who looked ready to rip off Mitch’s head and spit down his throat. “I’m not sure—”

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” the secretary announced from the door. “But there’s an urgent call for Sheriff Hayden.”

Mrs. Colby pushed the telephone on her desk in his direction. “You can take it here, Sheriff.”

Tired and annoyed, and definitely not up for any more problems, Mitch snatched up the receiver and depressed the blinking button. “Hayden.” It was Russ Dixon, one of his deputies. “Slow down, Dixon, and tell me what the problem is.” The deputy’s next words stunned Mitch. A mixture of fury and anxiety clenched his gut. “I’m on my way,” he said tightly and hung up.

“Is there a problem, Sheriff?” Mrs. Colby studied him closely, as if reading the new worry even before he spoke.

“That was one of my men,” Mitch said, his voice oddly devoid of inflection. “Alex Preston is missing, and the deputy who was watching her is dead.”

Chapter One

“The first shot entered here.” Deputy Dixon pointed to one of the bullet holes in the hospital window.

Mitch Hayden stared at the entry hole and the spiderweb of cracked glass around it. “It must have come from the hotel across the street,” he suggested, thinking out loud. The rooms in the four-story hotel had balconies with glass slider doors. Heavy curtains draped each set of sliders, offering excellent cover and the perfect angle for a shooter.

“That’s what I figured,” Dixon agreed. “The first round is the one that most likely hit the pillow right where Miss Preston would have laid her head. She apparently scrambled for cover, knocking over the telephone.”

A muttered curse from near the bed dragged Mitch’s attention in that direction. Zach Ashton, the Colby Agency’s hotshot attorney, stood, staring down at the thin, disposable pillow that sported the nice round bullet hole.

Ashton lifted his gaze, meeting Mitch’s. “She must have rolled over or gotten up at just the right moment,” he surmised grimly, an underlying emotion in his tone that went beyond that of mere professional concern for a co-worker.

Without comment, Mitch turned back to Dixon so that he could continue with his scenario.

“The sound most likely alerted Saylor and he rushed into the room. Or maybe she screamed.” Dixon indicated the second hole in the glass. “This round hit him dead center of his chest.”

Dead being the operative word. Clenching his jaw to stave off the emotions tugging at him, Mitch glanced to the place where his deputy had fallen. Midway between the door and the bed, Saylor had lost his life.

Apparently thinking along the same vein, Ashton studied the handprint of dried blood on the floor next to where Saylor had been found.

“We figure Ms. Preston rolled off the bed on that side.” Dixon gestured to the far side where Ashton stood. “Maybe to take cover or maybe to help Saylor. The bloody hand print on the floor isn’t Saylor’s or any of the hospital staff’s. We think maybe she tried to stop the bleeding or give him CPR or something.”

The deputy’s words evolved into a fully formed scene in Mitch’s head. The image of Alex Preston kneeling over Saylor attempting to stop the heavy flow of blood from his chest twisted the knot in Mitch’s gut a few more turns.

“Good work, Dixon.” Mitch started to turn away from the window, but hesitated. “Did you have a look over in the hotel already?”

“Sure did.” Dixon pulled a small notepad from his shirt pocket. “Roy and Willis combed the entire building and even the trees accessible on this side of the hospital.” Dixon shook his head. “They didn’t find anything. We’ve interviewed dozens of people and no one seems to have seen or heard anything suspicious.” He sighed. “It’s like our shooter just plain vanished into thin air.”

Mitch scrubbed a hand over his face and tried to stay fixed on the conversation when his mind wanted to focus on the search for Alex, but he had to take care of this first. “Well, we know he didn’t just disappear. We’ll have to look harder that’s all. Somebody had to have seen or heard something.” He glanced at his watch. The shooting had taken place approximately four hours ago. “I want every volunteer we can get out there beating the bushes. I want her found before dark.”

“We’ve got most of our men, a big hunk of the city’s force, and a dozen or so volunteers out searching already,” Dixon assured him. “If she’s still here, we’ll find her.”

“That’s what I want to hear.” Mitch made a quick mental checklist of all he had to do. “Ashton and I’ll join the search after I stop at the office. You make sure this crime scene stays clean. TBI’s techs may need to go over the place again.” Lucky for Mitch the Tennessee Bureau of Investigations was close by and had responded in record time.

“Will do.” Dixon stroked his forehead as if a headache had begun there. “One more thing, Sheriff. Chief Lowden said he wouldn’t push jurisdiction since Saylor was one of ours. But he wants to be certain that we keep him informed.”

Mitch nodded. “I’ll give him a call. Thanks, Dixon.”

Saylor was new on the force. His wife still lived in Knoxville, waiting for their house to sell. There was a call Mitch wasn’t looking forward to making. But it had to be done. He might as well go straight to the office and do it now. Chief Lowden had already broken the news to Mrs. Saylor in person. Mitch would have preferred to have done so himself, but that hadn’t been possible. At this point he needed to intrude as little as possible.

“Let’s go, Ashton.”

His hands buried in his pockets, Ashton followed Mitch into the corridor. Mitch nodded to the deputy stationed outside the door, his thoughts going immediately back to the man trailing close behind him. Mitch imagined that fancy designer suit Ashton was wearing probably cost the equivalent of a full month’s salary for a county sheriff. In spite of his expensive attire, Ashton seemed like a decent guy. He’d been amicable during the flight, filling Mitch in on what he knew of the case Alex was working, which wasn’t a whole lot.

The involvement of the Bukovak name had proven a surprise to Mitch. Alex had apparently been looking into the disappearance of Marija Bukovak, a foreign exchange student from Croatia who had lived with Phillip and Nadine Malloy during the last school year. She’d left Tennessee more than three months ago to join her older sister in Chicago. But Marija never showed, and she hadn’t been seen since the Malloys left her at the Nashville airport.

According to Ashton, the sister, Jasna, had given up trying to find Marija herself and had gone to the Colby Agency for help when the police failed to come up with any real answers. Mitch opted not to take offense at that remark. Jasna Bukovak had left a few things out when she’d told the Colby Agency her side of the story, but now wasn’t the time to dwell on that. He wondered though why Alex hadn’t just told him the truth about what she was doing in Shady Grove. It would certainly have made life simpler for him and her. But then, the truth would only have lent credence to what he’d already decided Alex was really up to—digging for dirt.

Mitch produced a smile for the duty nurse as he passed her station, then paused at the bank of elevators and stabbed the call button. A dozen questions whirled in his head, interfering with his ability to concentrate. Who in the world would have benefited from Miller’s death? The man didn’t have any money other than his deputy’s salary. Everybody liked him. He was single and fairly popular with the women…which could possibly explain the reason he and Alex had been together.

An unfamiliar sensation joined the ballet of fragmented thoughts and feelings inside Mitch. His mouth drew into a frown. What the heck was that all about? First he had Ashton pegged as her lover, and then Mitch had moved on to scenarios with Miller. Mitch blew out a weary breath. He was too tired to think straight that’s all. Too punchy to get a grip. He had to keep telling himself that a few hours shared over dinner that one night didn’t change anything. He didn’t know Alex Preston. She’d lied to him from the beginning.

A chime announced the imminent opening of the doors on the center elevator. Allowing Ashton to board first, Mitch stepped inside and depressed the lobby button. After he made the call to Saylor’s wife, he’d need to check with the search commander and select the area that needed his and Ashton’s support the most. Everything else on today’s agenda could wait.

“Sheriff!”

Mitch held the door for Dixon who was double-timing down the corridor to join them. “One more thing,” he said, a bit out of breath as he sidled into the waiting car. The doors closed behind him and the elevator slid into motion. “Roy’s a little miffed that Willis wouldn’t let him check the Preston woman’s room over at the hotel. Willis didn’t want to go in there without your authorization since it’s still taped off.”

Mitch grimaced at the thought of his overzealous cousin. Roy wanted to be the boss around the other men, but he knew Mitch wouldn’t back him up if he overstepped his bounds, so he whined. Which only served to lessen his already poor popularity.

“Giving that room another look-see wouldn’t hurt,” Mitch allowed. “I think it was gone through pretty thoroughly the last time, but we might as well cover every base.”

Dixon smiled. “I’ll tell Roy he can do it personally.”

Mitch resisted the urge to ask Dixon to do it himself. Roy would gloat over this triumph for weeks. That concern was quickly replaced as the memory of going through Alex’s room that first time reeled through Mitch’s mind. Touching her things. Feeling angry when one of his men commented on silky panties and hating himself for it. The stab of betrayal had pierced deep into his chest when faced with the reality of just how badly he’d been fooled by Alex Preston.

The elevator glided to a stop on the requested level and Mitch forced the haunting memories away. He glanced at Ashton, who had been particularly quiet for a lawyer. A wise man knows when to listen, Mitch decided as the three crossed the lobby. Ashton was likely building a case right now, and closely observing who he would consider his enemy. But Mitch wasn’t his enemy, he only wanted to know who’d killed two of his deputies. And why. Murders just didn’t happen in his county.

Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to Ashton’s relationship with Alex than simply sharing the same employer. But that wasn’t supposed to matter to Mitch since it had no apparent bearing on the case. Still, it did.

As Dixon drove away in a brown-and-tan cruiser, Mitch slid behind the wheel of his Jeep Wrangler. Ashton settled into the passenger side. Renewed dread pooled in Mitch’s gut as he considered what he had to do first. He definitely was not looking forward to making that call. Saylor had been young. He and his wife had only been married for a couple of years. This whole thing was crazy. Mitch had himself two dead deputies in the space of just over twenty-four hours. To his knowledge, Raleigh County had never before lost a deputy in the line of duty.

“It’s my thinking,” Ashton said, breaking his lengthy silence, “that this incident should clear Alex of the murder charge.” He said it as offhandedly as if he’d just commented on the nice weather they were having, but Mitch heard the tension hiding beneath that polished surface.

Oh yeah, the lawyer had been doing some serious thinking. Mitch backed out of the parking space, his gaze drifting up to the second-story window of the hospital room where Saylor had taken his last breath. “Maybe, maybe not,” Mitch returned noncommittally.

“Come on, Sheriff,” Ashton argued impatiently. “Do you think Alex shot at herself? She’s running for her life. Someone tried to kill her. Maybe the same person who killed Miller. The shooter probably thinks she knows something or can identify him.”

Mitch glanced first right then left before pulling out onto Commerce Street. That was one possibility. “Or maybe it was a setup by her accomplice to make her look innocent,” he suggested, bracing for the other man’s fury.

“What accomplice?” Ashton was more than a little annoyed now. “She came down here alone.”

“So you say.”

“Look, Hayden,” Ashton snapped, dropping the title and any respect he’d so politely displayed before. “I’ve told you everything I know about the case Alex was working on, but I get the feeling that you’re not being completely up-front with me. There’s something you’re leaving out.”

Mitch braked at a red light and turned his attention fully to Ashton, who iced him down with one of those legal-eagle stares. Mitch supposed he should tell Ashton the rest. He’d know soon enough anyway…well, assuming they found Alex alive. Mitch refused to even consider the alternative.

“Her prints are on the murder weapon,” he said finally.

Ashton shrugged. “And I’ll bet Miller’s are on his pistol. We have the proverbial standoff. Who shot first?”

Mitch mulled that one over for a while before responding. There was just too much he didn’t understand, and a strong possibility existed that he might never know any more than he did right now, especially considering the circumstances. “That’s the sixty-four thousand dollar question,” he said in answer to Ashton’s rhetorical jab. “There’s no way to know which weapon fired first.”

“What does Alex say happened?” he demanded. “You’ve certainly avoided that question cleanly enough this morning.”

“She doesn’t know what happened,” Mitch admitted, grinding out the words as he parked in his designated slot in front of the Raleigh County Sheriff’s Department.

“What do you mean she doesn’t know what happened?” Ashton asked warily.

Mitch withdrew his keys from the ignition and faced him. “She has retrograde amnesia. She doesn’t remember anything since arriving in town.”

Fury and something else less definitive etched itself across Ashton’s features. “You said she was fine.”

“She is fine. The gunshot didn’t leave much more than a nasty flesh wound. The neurologist thinks the problem occurred when the back of her head slammed pretty hard into something, giving her a concussion. The scrapes and bruises she sustained indicate there was a struggle.” Mitch shook his head, frowning with the same frustration that had plagued him for more than twenty-four hours. “We just don’t know when or why. There was no indication that Miller had been involved in a struggle.”

“So what are you saying,” Ashton pressed, “that she can’t remember anything?”

Mitch shook his head again. He wasn’t sure he completely understood this himself. “She remembers everything prior to this case. She knows who she is, where she works—” he shrugged “—everything, except what I need her to.”

“Victoria will want to call in a specialist.”

“I already have.” Mitch climbed out of his Jeep and rounded the hood. After waiting for Ashton to catch up, Mitch led the way to the building he called home the better part of every day. “He said she could remember some of it, all of it, or none of it.” He paused at the door, leveling a gaze on the other man that he hoped conveyed the utter desperation of the situation. “Maybe today, maybe tomorrow, maybe never. And whatever she remembers will likely come in bits and pieces.”

Ashton met that gaze with steel in his own. “So you’ve got no witnesses and no known motivation.” He inclined his head in a gesture of triumph. “You’ve got no case, Sheriff. You can’t even legally hold Alex any longer than you already have.”

Ire knotted in Mitch’s gut. “I’ll tell you what I’ve got, Ashton,” he said calmly, but a threatening quality belied his attempt at an even tone. “I’ve got her prints on the murder weapon and powder residue on her right hand. It may not be much, but it’s all I’ll need to build a case and you know it.”

A slow grin slid across Ashton’s face. “We’ll just see about that, Hayden. There’s no way Alex killed your deputy unless it was in self-defense. You’ll never make me believe it, and you damn sure won’t prove it in a court of law.”

Mitch jerked the door open and went inside, Ashton came in behind him. That was the thing Mitch hated most about lawyers. They were always so sure of themselves. The urge to kick something surged through his veins. Too bad this lawyer was probably right. Not only would Mitch have a hell of a time making a charge stick under the circumstances, he was having entirely too much trouble believing it himself.

AFTER DROPPING Ashton at the only hotel in town, the same one where Alex had stayed when she first arrived in Shady Grove and the one now suspected as having been used by the shooter, Mitch drove home. He parked in front of his house and cut the engine. He stared for a long while at the dark structure. He rarely made it home at a decent hour anymore. And even when he got home, there was more work to be done.

God, he was bone-tired. Too tired to worry about opening the garage or putting the Jeep’s rag top in place. Good thing there wasn’t any rain in tonight’s forecast. He leaned his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes for a minute. They’d turned over every rock in a ten-mile radius and found nothing. The APB hadn’t garnered any information either. Alex had disappeared, just like the shooter who’d taken Saylor’s life.

A weary burst of air hissed past Mitch’s lips. Mrs. Saylor wanted her husband’s body returned to Knoxville. Her father had passed along the instructions since she was in no condition to think much less talk or make decisions. Mitch had one of his men making the necessary arrangements. Then, at three o’clock that afternoon, the whole county had stopped everything to attend the memorial service for Deputy Miller. Just another low point in a particularly crappy day.

There hadn’t been a murder in this county in over twenty years. Most criminals in the area seemed to prefer to do their dirty business in nearby Davidson or Rutherford Counties, specifically in the vicinity of Nashville. What the hell had Preston and Miller gotten involved in? Alex had only been in town a few days. How could one city girl wreak this much havoc in such a short time? Mitch refused to consider how much upset she’d generated for him personally in just a few hours. And where the hell had the drugs come from? Miller was no user. And Mitch felt fairly confident that Alex wasn’t either.

But then the only thing Mitch had known about Alex was that she was going around town asking questions about a good man who deserved better than to have some P.I. digging around in his private life. She hadn’t mentioned the missing Bukovak girl as far as he knew. The best he could tell, she seemed to have been on some sort of mission to dig up dirt on Phillip Malloy, which could explain the drugs. Mitch had assumed that Phillip’s opponent in the upcoming senatorial race had hired her to find some mud-slinging ammunition.

Mitch opened his eyes and forced away the guilt that instantly swamped him. The idea that she’d fooled him so thoroughly the first time they met that night at the diner had made him see red. He’d put a gag order of sorts into effect as soon as he found out what she was doing. In a small town like Shady Grove if the sheriff didn’t want people talking about something, people didn’t. When no one would answer the first question for her, she’d shown up at Mitch’s door demanding that he stop interfering with her investigation. They’d argued, long and loud.

And the next morning, she’d been found…along with Miller.

Mitch slowly climbed out of his Jeep and walked even slower to his front door. He was tired and hungry, but worst of all he was disgusted. His emotions ran the gamut from fear for Alex’s safety to anger that she’d escaped before he got the truth out of her, and that somehow she’d had something to do with all this. And then there was the other thing. The need that burned low in his belly. A need for her. The one that had started the moment they met. Even his fury at discovering she’d lied to him hadn’t quenched that building fire. It was the craziest thing he’d ever experienced. He just couldn’t shake it.

He cursed himself for his lack of self-control. Those amber eyes and full, lush lips haunted him still. The way her dark hair fell around her shoulders, enhancing her porcelain skin. He hadn’t been able to keep his mind off her for long. Even now, as much as he wanted to know what had happened in the dark of night on that deserted road, some tiny part of him was glad that she didn’t remember the last words he’d spoken to her.

If you don’t stop nosing around my county, you’ll be sorry.

Mitch grimaced at the memory. He’d been madder than hell. He’d known better than to let his temper get the better of him like that, but he supposed the bottom line had amounted to a mixture of fury and attraction. A dangerous combination under any circumstances.

He twisted the knob on his front door with a vengeance, and shoved it inward. There was no excuse for it. He’d acted like a fool. Stepping inside, he flipped the switch and flooded the long entry hall with light. He closed the door behind him and released a sigh of relief. In spite of the hellish day he’d had, and the still missing woman who made him seriously restless, he was glad to be home. It was late and he was spent. Things would have to look better in the morning.

Tossing his keys onto a nearby table, Mitch made his way down the hall toward his bedroom, shucking off his boots en route. Hopping on one foot and then the other, he peeled off his socks and tossed them aside. Fingers clumsy with exhaustion plucked at his buttons until he’d managed to undo the last one and pull his shirt from his waistband. As he reached his room, he started to shrug off his shoulder holster, but hesitated when a barely audible sound touched his ears.

He froze.

It came again…a whispered sigh or soft moan.

He cocked his head and listened intently as he slipped his weapon from its holster. His bare feet moved silently over the uncarpeted hardwood floor, instinctively avoiding the areas that creaked with age.

The word no, heavy with fear and denial, echoed…the disembodied voice closer this time. He paused at the door to his living room and listened again. Pure anguish, low and agonizing, reached out to him from the darkness with the next muffled sound. His heart beat faster as he leveled his weapon in that direction. Mitch eased into the room and hit the light switch. A pool of pale yellow glowed from a table lamp at the end of his sofa. His gaze moved beyond the table and the arm of the sofa to…

Alex.

Instantly, a shoulderload of Mitch’s tension lifted. He reholstered his weapon. She lay on the old plaid sofa, tossing and turning, fighting some unseen demon in her sleep. The hospital gown and lab coat she wore over it had worked up her thighs, exposing long, shapely legs.

Moving closer, Mitch listened intently to make out her mumbled words but couldn’t. Should he wake her? Maybe her dreams would help her remember. She whimpered in fear, and, unable to restrain himself, he crouched next to the sofa and shook her gently. She woke instantly, jerking upright and throwing her hands out in front of her in a defensive maneuver.

“Just take it easy,” he soothed, clasping her forearms to keep her seated.

Her face was pale and her hair was mussed. The white bandage on her forehead stood out in stark relief against the dark tresses. She trembled visibly beneath his scrutiny. “It’s okay,” he assured her again. He noticed then that her knees were badly scraped—something new added to her list of injuries. But it was the fear and confusion in her eyes that made his gut clench.

“I didn’t know where else to go,” she told him, her voice shaky. She drew in a sharp breath as if suddenly remembering something she’d rather not. “I tried to stop him, but it was too late.” She closed her eyes. “There was nothing I could do.”

“I need to get you back to the hospital,” Mitch suggested, fighting the urge to hold her.

Definitely the wrong thing to say.

With a good deal more strength than he would have imagined her capable, she shot to her feet, he came up with her.

“Don’t take me back there. He’ll find me!” She shook her head, her eyes wide with renewed fear. “He’ll kill me!”

Mitch tightened his hold on her when she tried to pull away. “All right, we’ll stay here for the time being. Just calm down.” He wanted to ask who he was, but opted to do that later. “You need to relax.”

She nodded stiffly. “As long as you promise you won’t take me back there.” Her expression clouded with too many emotions to read.

Blood, Saylor’s blood, was smeared on the front of her gown and dried on her hands. She began to shake so hard that Mitch could no longer deny his need, he pulled her closer, to somehow comfort her…even when he knew he shouldn’t.

“It’s all right.” He patted her back as she started to cry softly against his chest. Her damp cheek felt warm against his bare skin. His arms tightened around her of their own volition, and Mitch closed his eyes in a futile attempt to ignore the mistake he was making.

He wasn’t sure how long he stood that way, holding her close and whispering soothing sounds in her ear, but eventually reality dragged him to his senses.

Alex Preston was a suspect and the only witness he had to a murder, making this behavior completely unprofessional. He’d already been fooled once.

Mitch drew back, prying the clinging woman from his chest in the process. Her arms folded around her waist, hugging herself as her body quaked uncontrollably. He doubted she’d eaten anything all day. He had to get her comfortable and evaluate her condition further before he could question her. And then he’d have to call Ashton, but Mitch had every intention of putting that off for as long as possible.

“I’ll tell you what, let’s get you cleaned up and find something to eat. Then we’ll straighten all this out. What do you say?”

She swiped at her eyes with the backs of her hands and nodded weakly. “Thank you.”

He clenched his jaw against the protective feelings surging inside him. He couldn’t say she was welcome. Hell, he shouldn’t be doing this. Mitch took her by the arm and led her to the hall bathroom. “Wash your hands and face,” he instructed, “and I’ll get you some clothes.”

She obeyed without question. She definitely wasn’t herself. He might not know her well, but he knew that much. The Alex Preston he’d argued with was strong and self-reliant, not the submissive type at all.

Mitch hurried to his room and rounded up a T-shirt and a pair of running shorts that tied at the waist. Right now wasn’t the time to analyze why he hadn’t already called in and reported finding her to the dispatcher, or the reason she’d chosen his house in which to take refuge. Chief Lowden would be annoyed that Mitch hadn’t called him right away. But he had questions for Alex first. Questions that couldn’t wait.

At least that was what he kept telling himself to justify putting off what he knew he should do. He paused outside the bathroom door. “This is the best I could do.” He offered Alex the clothes. “There’s a tube of antibiotic cream in the medicine cabinet for your knees.”

Her hands not shaking quite so badly now, she accepted the items and managed a faint smile. “Thank you. This hospital getup is the pits.” She shrugged out of the lab coat and dropped it to the floor. The back of the gown had worked its way open and was showing off more than she realized.

Mitch couldn’t prevent the wicked grin that tilted his lips, or the equally wicked retort that flew out of his mouth before he could stop it. “I don’t know, from some angles it’s not so bad.”

Realizing where he was looking she blushed and closed the door in his face. He shook his head in disbelief. He’d just flirted with her. What was wrong with him? Hadn’t he learned his lesson already? Time for more coffee. Strong coffee. Because he definitely needed to clear his head.

By the time Alex found her way to the kitchen, the smell of fresh-brewed coffee had filled the air and Mitch had downed one cup and was working on a second.

“Have a seat.” He motioned to the table and chairs occupying the center of the big, old-fashioned kitchen. He reminded himself that he wasn’t supposed to notice the athletic muscle tone of her legs, or the way his too-big T-shirt made her look even more vulnerable. “Coffee?”

“Please.” She sat down gingerly.

He imagined that she was pretty sore from the unexplained beating she had taken. At least she wasn’t shaking now, he noticed. He poured her a cup and sat it down on the table in front of her. “Are you hungry?”

She shook her head, then moistened her lips. Mitch cursed himself for following that last move with too much interest.

“I don’t think I could handle any food right now.”

She closed her eyes and he knew she was reliving the scene that had taken place in her hospital room.

“Why don’t you tell me what happened.”

Her eyes opened and she looked up at him with a kind of pain that tugged hard at his emotions. “I’d been lying there for what felt like forever trying to remember what went down with…with Deputy Miller.” She shrugged halfheartedly. “Finally, I had to get up. I couldn’t lie there a minute longer.” Hesitating briefly, she frowned. “When I sat up I heard a sound like glass cracking and something hit the pillow right behind me. I guess it was instinct, but I rolled off the bed and onto the floor even before I realized what had actually happened. I knocked the telephone off the table in the process.”

She stared into her cup for a while as she gathered her courage and began again. “I guess the deputy heard the crash. The door flew open and he rushed in. I tried to warn him to get down, but it happened too fast.” She pressed trembling fingers to her mouth. “I tried to stop the bleeding…but I couldn’t.” Tears welled past her lashes and slid down her cheeks. “All I could think to do then was run from the danger.”

“So you came here?” He worked hard not to be affected by her vulnerability, and at the same time to keep an open mind.

She nodded. “I was afraid. I didn’t know where else to hide. I knew no one would look for me here. And this was the only other place I remembered besides the hotel.”

She was right about that first part. No one would have ever looked here. Not even him. She obviously didn’t remember the words that had passed between them in this very room on the night before last, since she felt comfortable coming here. “How can I be sure that you didn’t call out to Deputy Saylor for the shooter to take down so that you could escape?”

“What?” She pushed out of her chair, sending it scraping across the floor. “Someone tried to kill me!”

Mitch sat his cup down, watching closely for every nuance of her reaction. He had to play devil’s advocate. Had to see and feel her response. “The second bullet could have been the one that hit your pillow to make it look as if someone was trying to kill you.”

She braced her hands at her waist. “You can’t believe that. Why would I have come here? Why would I try to help that deputy if I’d wanted him dead? Do you think I would have—?” A gasp stole the rest of what she intended to say as her mind evidently replayed those final moments in the hospital.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Preston,” Mitch offered, with absolutely no contrition. “But until we solve this case, you’re my prime suspect. Despite the fact that you came here, running only made you look more guilty.”

She stared directly into his eyes. “I ran because I was afraid. I don’t know why I came to your house,” she said flatly. “And I can’t tell you what happened in that car with Miller.” She flung her arms upward in frustration. “I don’t even know how I got all these bruises. But the one thing I can tell you is that I didn’t kill anyone. I know that.”

She swayed slightly and had the presence of mind to drop back into her chair before Mitch had to reach for her.

“All right,” he relented. “Let’s say for the moment that I believe you. How do you propose we go about proving your story? After all, you lied to me about why you were here from the beginning.” She might not remember just yet, but he couldn’t put it out of his head.

That got her attention. Confusion claimed her features. “I don’t know why I lied to you. But there must have been a reason I held anything back.”

Incredibly, he believed her. Mitch swore silently. This was nuts. He should just take her back to the hospital this minute and put her under guard in a room with no windows. What the hell was he thinking standing here allowing himself to swallow her story hook, line and sinker?

But he did. That was the hell of it. He was furious that the Colby Agency had sent her here without coordinating with his office. He was even angrier that she had lied to him and that she seemed determined to make Phillip look bad somehow. But, damned if he didn’t believe, deep in his gut, that she was innocent of any wrongdoing where the murders were concerned.

Before he opened his mouth and made an even bigger fool of himself, the telephone rang. He crossed the room and snatched up the receiver before the second ring. “Hayden.”

“Sheriff, you’re not going to believe what me and Willis found in that P.I.’s hotel room.”

It was Roy. Mitch glanced at the clock. “Roy, I thought everyone had called it a night?”

“I know,” he crooned. “But I just couldn’t wait till morning to do this. I talked Willis into coming over here with me after the search ended for the night.”

Mitch studied Alex, who was staring into her coffee cup again as if it held all the answers she needed. “So what’d you find?”

Roy’s excitement was palpable. “We found a high-powered rifle hidden under the mattress. How much you want to bet it’s the same one that killed Saylor?”

Chapter Two

Mitch sat in the darkness of his bedroom staring at the telephone on the table next to the bed. A faint beam from the moon filtered through the curtains silhouetting the table and the items that sat upon it. The digital alarm clock read 12:45 a.m.

He leaned back in his chair and told himself again that he couldn’t delay making that call any longer. For almost an hour now he’d been sitting here like this, mulling over all that had happened and putting off the inevitable. Roy had called his buddy in ballistics and gotten the promise of a priority test to confirm if the high-powered rifle found in Alex’s hotel room was, in fact, the one used to kill Saylor. They would have their answer some time tomorrow.

Mitch hadn’t told Roy that he had Alex in custody. What was the point? The search wouldn’t resume until daybreak. That was soon enough to announce the news in Mitch’s opinion, though for the life of him he couldn’t understand why he was delaying that call as well. He told himself that it was the right thing to do. First he needed to interrogate Alex further, and he wanted to do that on his own terms.

She wasn’t up to questioning tonight, that was certain. He hadn’t bothered to tell her about the rifle they’d found either. She might make a run for it in the middle of the night if she thought that new evidence, which made her look even guiltier, had been found. Continuing to behave in a completely unprofessional manner, Mitch had allowed her to finish her coffee and then he’d shown her to his spare room. Fifteen minutes later she’d been sleeping like a baby.

Opting to keep her whereabouts to himself until morning might not really bother anyone connected with the official search, but not telling Ashton was a whole other can of worms. There would be hell to pay if he didn’t tell Ashton. Whatever the man’s personal claim on Alex, as her attorney he wouldn’t appreciate being made to wait a moment longer than necessary.

Pushing to his feet, Mitch blew out a weary breath. He padded across the carpeted floor and sat down on the edge of his unmade bed. Until just over one week ago his professional life had been pretty much a breeze, other than the long hours. The worse thing that ever happened was the occasional drunken brawl at one of the college hangouts, or, even more infrequently, at the campus itself. With its five thousand students, Fulmer College was a pretty busy place. Despite the number of rowdy college students the school seemed to draw, trouble rarely found its way into Raleigh County.

But it sure as hell had waltzed into town with Alex Preston. She’d managed to not only turn his professional world upside down, but his personal life as well.

After calling information and requesting the number for the hotel, Mitch selected the option so the number would be automatically dialed. His voice rusty with sleep, the desk clerk offered his practiced welcome greeting, then transferred the call to Ashton’s room.

He answered on the first ring.

So, Mitch wasn’t the only one who couldn’t sleep. The thought only irritated him all the more. “This is Hayden. I’ve found Alex.”

“Is she all right?”

As had been the case from the start, the anticipation in the other man’s voice was a good deal more than professional concern. His relationship with Alex clearly went much deeper. That shouldn’t bother Mitch, but somehow it did.

“She’s fine.”

“And what does that mean?” Ashton snapped. “The last time you told me she was fine, she’d lost part of her memory. Where is she?”

Mitch struggled to control the unwarranted fury that rocketed inside him. “I said she’s fine. She’s sleeping.”

“Where the hell is she?”

“Here,” Mitch ground out. “At my house.”

The brief silence on the other end of the line spoke volumes. “Why is she at your house?” Ashton’s tone was guarded this time, almost accusing.

“She said she figured it was the last place anyone would look.” Mitch massaged his stubbled jaw in an attempt to stop the muscle jerking there.

“Give me directions,” Ashton ordered, “I’ll be right there.”

“No. I told you she’s sleeping.”

More silence.

“You can see her in the morning,” Mitch offered.

“I don’t know what you think you’re up to Hayden, but you’d better think long and hard before you step too far over that line. I won’t tolerate you coming between me and my client.”

Mitch shrugged off his shoulder holster and tossed it onto the bed behind him. “I’m getting tired of your threats, Ashton.” He gritted his teeth to hold back the rest of what he wanted to say. This was Mitch’s county. He didn’t need any big-city know-it-all telling him how to take care of his business.

“You can’t stop me from seeing her, you know that.”

“I have no intention of trying to stop you,” Mitch pointed out. “Be at my office at nine in the morning. You can see her then.”

That tense silence again. “I’ll be there at eight,” Ashton countered hotly, “and if you ask her just one question outside my presence I swear you’ll regret it.”

“I wouldn’t dream of questioning her without you,” Mitch assured him. “See you at nine.” He hung up the receiver before Ashton could protest.

One thing was crystal clear, Mitch decided as he climbed into bed with his usual sleeping companion, his weapon, he had to get his head together before morning. Whatever it was that had allowed Alex to get so deeply under his skin in such a short time, he had to find a way to ignore it. Because if Mitch was half as easy to read where Alex was concerned as Ashton was, the hotshot lawyer already knew too much.

ALEX SLOWLY OPENED her eyes and stared at the ceiling of her room. Something was different, but she couldn’t be sure what. A dull ache throbbed deep in her skull, making focused concentration impossible. She stretched and sore muscles screamed in protest. The memory of a fist slamming into her stomach, of steel fingers gripping her throat and shoving her hard ricocheted through her mind. The ache in her skull exploded into fierce pain. She groaned and sat up, resting her head in her hands.

It took her a few seconds to realize the fierce agony wasn’t real, only remembered from an event that hovered behind an impenetrable wall that wouldn’t allow her to recall the last six days of her life. When she’d finally convinced herself it wasn’t real, the dull ache was all that remained.

How had she lost that whole block of time? Why couldn’t she remember? The concept seemed completely foreign to her. She should simply be able to retrieve those lost hours like so much data on a floppy disk. But she couldn’t. The flash of memory she’d just experienced was only the second little frame of recall she’d had since waking up in the hospital the day before yesterday.

The neurologist had said that it could be all or nothing, and would likely come in spurts. There was no way to speculate how much she would recall, and no reliable means to speed up her recovery.

Frowning, Alex returned to the problem at hand. Where was she? The image of Mitch Hayden offering her clean clothes at the bathroom door zoomed into vivid 3-D focus. She was at his house. That’s right. She’d come here because she knew no one would look for her here…she’d be safe. Something else she couldn’t remember nagged at her, making her a little less sure of the safe part, but she couldn’t grasp it. She hadn’t actually left the hospital with this destination in mind, she’d just wound up here and then the notion that no one would look for her at this particular location had gelled. He was the sheriff, after all, why would anyone look for her at his house?

Gingerly, she touched the bandage on her forehead. The image of fire blasting from the muzzle of a handgun aimed at her face seized her. She gasped with remembered terror and hugged her arms around her middle. She squeezed her eyes shut and rocked back and forth to calm herself. Her heart pounded so hard her chest hurt. He was going to kill her. He would never let her live knowing what she surely knew—his identity. Alex didn’t know how she knew it was a he, she just did. She was as certain of it as she was that he would try to kill her before she remembered. He had to…

“Good morning.”

Alex snapped her eyes open at the sound of a deep male voice. Mitch Hayden’s slow southern drawl to be exact. He stood in the doorway, propped against the frame. As she watched, he straightened and moved toward the bed. She grappled for the composure that usually came so easily for her. Whoever had worked her over had definitely scrambled her thinking. She was in the middle of a huge identity crisis that involved murder and mayhem and all she could do at the moment was notice how good the sheriff looked. Flashes of memory from last night kept popping into her head. His shirt hanging open, revealing a magnificent chest. His scent, something male and musky, when he’d held her so close as she broke down in his arms. Something about him drew her. It didn’t make sense.

“Good morning,” she returned as calmly as her churning emotions would allow when he paused a few feet away. Feeling vulnerable in her current position, she climbed out of bed and straightened her borrowed clothes, then combed her fingers through her hair in an attempt to pull herself together on the outside at least. “I appreciate you not taking me back to the hospital last night.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” he said quietly, those Artic-blue eyes clocking her every move. “It wasn’t a favor to you. I had my reasons.”

She was his prime suspect. How could she forget? Alex folded her arms over her chest and for a long moment studied the handsome sheriff who appeared hell-bent on adding to her misery. One single frame of memory flickered—Mitch Hayden angry and shouting at her. She flinched. The snatch of recall disintegrated as suddenly as it appeared. She cursed silently for not being able to hold on to the fleeting images long enough to decipher what they meant. She had to remember. Her freedom—not to mention her life—depended upon it.

“I didn’t shoot either of those men.” Alex blinked back the uncharacteristic urge to cry. She was stronger than this. She straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. Much stronger. “In fact, I think you should stop wasting time trying to decide whether or not I’m guilty.”

He lifted one tawny eyebrow. “What makes you think I haven’t already decided?”

Uncertainty pulled the plug on her bravado, but she stood firm against the sinking feeling. “If you had, I’d have been in a cell this morning instead of in your bed.”

That cool gaze flicked from her to the rumpled sheets and back. “This isn’t my bed,” he said tightly.

Drawing courage from her direct hit, she replied, “Close enough.”

Quite obviously ill at ease now, he turned back toward the door and started out of the room. “You should eat. You’re going to need your strength. I’ll wait for you in the kitchen.”

Was that a warning? Alex mused as she watched him go. It sure sounded like one. She frowned when she considered that she needed to call Victoria. That first day in the hospital she’d been too disoriented to call anyone, then the killer had struck again before she’d had a chance to demand her rights be acknowledged. Alex squeezed her eyes shut to block the vivid mental images that accompanied the memory of Deputy Saylor’s murder.

Determined to pull it together she headed in the direction of the bathroom she’d used last night. She had to find a way to clear herself of suspicion. And since her memory was not cooperating, she’d just have to utilize her investigative skills.

Alex closed and locked the bathroom door, then took care of essentials. As she washed her hands she studied her reflection in the mirror. Her right cheek was still slightly discolored from…the sound of the back of a hand slapping against her cheek reverberated in her head. She jerked at the remembered sting. Alex touched her cheek and tried to remember more. Trees. Darkness. Someone shouting in the background. A male voice. The feel of the leaf-covered ground beneath her. The wind going out of her lungs when someone kicked her in the stomach. The sound of gunfire. Stark fear.

Trembling violently, she snapped back to the here and now. Alex fumbled around in the drawers until she found a brush. Taking slow, deep breaths to counter the adrenaline surging inside her body, she tugged the brush through her hair. Calm down, she ordered the frightened eyes in the mirror. You’re safe now. Sheriff Hayden had no intention of allowing anything to happen to her. She was his only witness—and suspect. Another of those fleeting images slipped in then out of her thoughts. Hayden shouting at her, fury in his expression. And then that strong pull she felt for him…some kind of unexplainable connection.

Alex shook off the worrisome thoughts and forced one foot in front of the other until she found him in the kitchen. He’d poured her a cup of coffee and prepared toast. He stood, leaning against a nearby counter, waiting patiently.

He wanted answers. The evidence against her was apparently considerable since he wasn’t out beating the bushes for another suspect. Or maybe he just hoped she would remember everything and save him the trouble. She sat down and took a much-needed sip of coffee. Her stomach rumbled. She tasted the toast he had gone to the trouble to butter and waited for him to begin his new round of interrogation.

But he didn’t.

Unable to tolerate the prolonged anticipation, she asked, “How does the evidence stack up against me?”

“Your prints are on the murder weapon.” He nodded to the right hand she’d just lifted to take another bite of toast. “You had the powder residue to prove you were holding the weapon when it fired.”

Alex stared at her hand. She swallowed, hard. Her appetite vanished and she dropped the toast back onto the saucer. “Well, there’s a good start for a murder case,” she allowed. She stared directly at him then. “Now all you need is motive, and you can nail me.”

She didn’t miss the little flutter of muscle in his tightly clenched jaw before he responded. “That would help. But then, if I have to, I’ll nail you without it if you killed my deputy.”

Averting her gaze from his intense one, she sipped her coffee thoughtfully. Anxiety coiled in her stomach threatening her flimsy hold on composure, chinking away at her certainty that she was innocent. She had to be. She would never kill anyone unless it was to save her own life—or someone else’s. Some part of her felt like the sheriff knew it, too. Otherwise she would be in a cell.

“You realize, of course, that I don’t have to answer any questions without legal counsel present,” she said then. She hardly recognized the strained voice as her own. God, she was a mess.

“I didn’t ask any questions.” Those too-discerning eyes remained focused on hers.

Alex almost laughed at that one. He wouldn’t ask any questions, because he knew that legally he couldn’t. But he could make her feel the pressure of proving her innocence. “I can’t tell you what happened, because I don’t know,” she admitted with complete candor. “And I don’t know how Miller tied into my investigation, but he isn’t the reason I came here.”

Hayden didn’t say a word. He simply stood there, waiting for her to continue if she chose.

“I came to Shady Grove to look into the disappearance of Marija Bukovak, a foreign exchange student from Croatia.” He didn’t even blink. “She was staying here with a local family, the Malloys. She hasn’t been seen since they left her at the airport about three months ago. Jasna, her sister, didn’t feel like the police had done enough so she asked my agency to see what we could find.”

A subtle change in his expression told her that her last remark didn’t sit too well with him.

“Did she also tell you that there have been a series of murders in the Nashville and Murfreesboro areas that the police believe might be connected to her sister’s disappearance?”

Her brow creased in confusion. There had been no mention of any kind of ongoing investigation connected to Marija’s disappearance. “What murders?”

“The sophomore murders,” he explained. “Six young women were found between April and July of this year, all students at nearby universities. Each was sexually assaulted, strangled to death and then buried in a shallow grave in the woods. The Tennessee Bureau of Investigations apprehended the killer last month. Davidson County thinks maybe the Bukovak girl was one of his victims, but he hasn’t confessed to the crime. She’s the only unsolved case of a missing person from this area that fits the profile.”

“He confessed to having murdered the other six?”

Hayden eyed her speculatively for a couple of seconds before answering. “He did.”

Alex shook her head. “Then he didn’t do the Bukovak girl,” she said succinctly.

He inclined his head and lifted a skeptical brow. “You’re positive about that.”

“Absolutely.” She chewed on a bite of toast as she considered all that he’d told her, then washed it down with more coffee. “Serial killers don’t work that way. If he confessed, he confessed all. He wouldn’t have bothered otherwise.” She frowned. “Unless he’s playing some sort of game. He might reveal bits and pieces if that’s the case.”

“And you would be an expert in that area,” he suggested, still looking skeptical.

“Yes.” She pushed the remainder of her breakfast away. “Didn’t the TBI guys come to the same conclusion?” If they hadn’t, then they needed to be in another line of work.

“That was their feeling, but no one can really be sure.” Hayden glanced at her half-eaten toast. “Are you finished?”

She stood. “I’d like to call Victoria Colby, she’s my boss and I need to check in.”

“I’ve already talked to Mrs. Colby.” He pushed off from the counter. “Come on. We’ll stop by your hotel room and pick up a change of clothes and some shoes.”

Surprised, Alex stared after him as he left the room. “When did you call?” she asked, following him into the hall.

“I didn’t. I flew up there to find out what you were working on.” He stopped and turned to face her.

Alex was a little slower to react, almost running into him before she stopped. When her gaze connected with his she wasn’t prepared for the rush of sensations that accompanied standing so close to him and looking directly into his eyes. Warmth spread through her middle, and her heart kicked into a faster rhythm.

“Your friend Ashton came back with me. He’ll be meeting us at my office at nine.”

“Zach is here?” A smile stretched across her face and a great deal of the weight sagging her shoulders lifted. She needed him right now. At least he would be on her side.

Something changed in the sheriff’s eyes, but Alex couldn’t quite read what she saw there. “He’s here,” Hayden affirmed. “We should get going so we don’t keep him waiting.”

MITCH WATCHED the reunion with growing irritation—mostly with himself. After the emotional embraces and assurances were exchanged, Ashton still managed to find a way to touch Alex. He squeezed her hand…touched her bruised cheek. Mitch hated that it disturbed him so, but it did just the same. He hated even more the curious glances his bringing Alex in had generated among his own men. The glare Ashton had arrowed at him the moment they stepped through the door had been blistering. Any one of those things should have made Mitch realize just how far out of bounds he’d allowed his judgment to go. But none did.

That one night at the diner he and Alex had somehow connected over the blue plate special. Hours of nothing but talking and laughing and too-intense eye contact. He just couldn’t shake that strange bond now. The connection had been electric…still was. And it was playing havoc with his ability to look at this case objectively. Case in point, she’d been lying to him the whole time. Told him that she was just passing through. And he’d believed her. That almost-kiss when he’d walked her to her car that night still stirred his blood.

The very next morning he’d found out who she really was. He’d been furious with himself for being so gullible. It wasn’t going to happen again. And look at him now. The only highlight of the whole mess was that she didn’t seem to remember anything about that night either, and he’d just as soon it stayed that way. He didn’t relish the idea of being recognized as a fool twice.

Mitch forced those thoughts away. “We should get started,” he announced, interrupting the hushed exchange taking place in the middle of his own office.

Ashton guided Alex to a visitor’s chair, his hand at the small of her back, the gesture clearly welcome and familiar. Mitch gritted his teeth against how that simple move made him feel. He rationalized his unwarranted emotions with the fact that she was a suspect and a witness. Her well-being was supposed to be important to him and the case.

Good one, Hayden, he chastised silently.

Ashton took the seat next to her. “You broke the rules, Hayden,” he accused, a new glare now directed at Mitch.

Mitch settled into his own chair. “I didn’t ask her a single question.”

When Ashton would have argued semantics, Alex raised a hand to stop him. “He didn’t ask, Zach,” she assured him. “I want this cleared up just as much as he does.”

“I’m not sure you’re up to this,” Ashton argued.

“I’m fine.” She sat straighter in her chair. “I just can’t remember the things I need to.”

Mitch studied her as she protested Ashton’s attempts to sway her into being reevaluated by a specialist of his choosing. She could hold her own with the guy. And that only made her more appealing.

She’d twisted her shoulder-length hair up into a youthful but conservative style, showing off that long, slender neck. The navy slacks and pale blue blouse fit a little loosely. For comfort, Mitch supposed. Alex didn’t strike him as the type who would forego comfort to show off her figure. Besides, he’d already seen enough of her to know she had a terrific body. His own body tightened at the remembered feel of hers when he’d held her.

He shut off that line of thinking and focused on the matter at hand. He had two dead deputies. And Alex Preston was somehow involved in their deaths, if by no other means than the fact that she was present at both shootings.

“Let’s start by you telling me how you got out of the hospital and to my house,” Mitch said, dragging the two from the heated discussion.

To his credit, Ashton kept his mouth shut.

Alex thought for a while before she spoke. Her expression grew solemn. “When I was sure I couldn’t help the deputy, I made my way to the door and into the corridor. I was afraid that whoever was shooting at me would try again….” She frowned. “Or may become after me.

“Once I got into the corridor I considered going to the nurse’s desk, but there wasn’t anyone there. It was like everyone had disappeared. That spooked me. I started for the elevators, but one opened and I was afraid it was the shooter, so I hid behind the closest door, which turned out to be a supply closet.”

“That’s where you got the lab coat,” Mitch guessed.

She nodded. “When the coast was clear I ran like hell. I don’t think anyone even noticed I was missing from the room until after I’d left the hospital. The shots didn’t make that much noise. I don’t know if Saylor would even have heard anything if I hadn’t bumped into the table and knocked the telephone off it.” She blinked, her eyes bright.

The shooter had used a sound suppressor, which explained why no one at the hotel seemed to have heard anything. Both items were being tested by ballistics at that very moment.

“How did you get out of town,” he prodded. That was the part that bothered him the most. She’d been barefoot and without transportation. Someone had to have given her a lift.

“The rug guy,” she explained. “He had already taken the mats at the front of the hospital lobby entrance and gone back to his van for clean ones. While he put the new ones in place I hid in the back of his van.” She shrugged. “When he made his next stop I got out. It was a nursing home outside town.”

Pinecrest, but that was still a good five miles from Mitch’s house. “You walked from there?”

She smiled dimly. “Walked, ran, stumbled. I’ve got a few blisters to prove it. Mostly I hid in the woods afraid someone would find me.”

Mitch thought about her scraped knees, then about her hovering in the bushes. “When did you get to my house?”

She chewed her lower lip, thoughtful. “Sometime after dark. The door was unlocked so I went on inside.”

“You didn’t call anyone?”

She shook her head. “I couldn’t think. I was exhausted. My head hurt. I just needed to lie down. I fell asleep on the couch and then you came in.”

“And you’ve told me everything you can remember regarding what you discovered during the course of your investigation?” he pressed. He needed her to give him everything, no matter how unimportant it might seem. “You remember nothing as to why you were meeting with Miller?”

“I’m sorry, no. I don’t even remember talking to him at all. Like I said, my agency was hired to look into Marija’s disappearance and the family she was staying with, the Malloys. I still plan to pursue that investigation.”

Mitch tapped the arm of his chair considering her words for a moment. “Even after I told you what the TBI believes, you want to move forward?”

She nodded. “Her sister’s counting on me. I can’t in good conscience walk away without giving it my best shot.” She pursed those lush lips for a time. There was something about her mouth, the shape or color or maybe both, but he wanted to taste her so badly that it was an ache inside him.

“Besides,” she continued, “I’m not sure I can buy into the serial killer scenario considering Marija’s circumstances and the Malloy connection.”

A new kind of dread rising, Mitch asked, “What circumstances?” Marija had fit the serial killer’s profile perfectly. Since she hadn’t been found, that seemed the most likely scenario. Unless she just didn’t want to be found.

“Jasna may not have shared this information with the police since it was so private,” Alex began. “But two days before Marija disappeared she called her sister and admitted that she was pregnant. Jasna felt certain that the father was Mr. Malloy since Marija was so afraid he’d find out. It’s possible he discovered her pregnancy and decided he couldn’t risk the bad publicity considering the upcoming senatorial race. Not to mention his wife’s reaction.”

A chunk of ice formed in Mitch’s gut. Shock radiated through him. “That’s impossible,” he said tightly.

“Why would my client lie?” Alex countered.

“She has to be lying,” Mitch returned, his tone brittle despite his best efforts to keep it even. “Phillip Malloy is one of the finest men I know.” He leveled his gaze on hers. “And I should know, he’s my uncle.”

“So that automatically clears him of possible wrongdoing?” Ashton countered. “I don’t think so.”

Alex shot Ashton a quelling look. Mitch wanted to reach across his desk and wring the guy’s neck. “If you can’t prove that allegation, I would caution you to keep it to yourself.”

“I’m not accusing him—”

“Is that a threat, sheriff?” Ashton cut Alex off, leaning forward in his chair. “Because if it is, you’re making one hell of a big mistake.”

“Zach,” Alex warned, placing a hand on his arm.

Ashton shook off her restraining gesture and stood, glaring down at Mitch. “Make a formal charge, Hayden, or we’re out of here.”

Mitch smiled, the gesture filled with the contempt strumming through him. “If that’s what you want.”

“Zach, this is not the way to handle this.” Alex was standing now, too. She pulled him around to face her. “Let me do my job. Okay? You’re not helping,” she added when he still looked skeptical. “I have to think about what’s best for my client.”

Ashton held up his hands, stop sign fashion. “Fine.” He sent a glower in Mitch’s direction. “He can’t charge you anyway. He doesn’t have enough evidence to make a case and he knows it.”

Mitch leaned back in his chair, cocked his head and stared right back at Ashton. “I guess I forgot to mention the new evidence we discovered last night.”

Alex’s expression fell; Ashton’s grew wary.

“What evidence?” he demanded with a little less conviction.

“A high-powered rifle, complete with sound suppressor, was found in the hotel room Alex used. It was hidden beneath the mattress.”

She shook her head. “That can’t be.”

“It’s a setup.” Zach shook a finger in Mitch’s direction. “And you know it.”

Mitch stood. He pressed his palms against his desktop and leaned forward, his gaze never leaving Ashton’s. “Maybe it is a setup. Alex certainly appears to have no motivation for whatever the hell is going on here. But that’s beside the point. I have every intention of getting to the bottom of this one way or another.” He turned his attention to Alex then. “I will have your full cooperation.”

“Absolutely.” Her gaze never wavered. “It’s in my best interest as well as my client’s.”

Mitch shifted his focus back to Ashton. “And we’ll do things my way.”

Before Ashton could respond, the door to Mitch’s office swung inward. Dixon stuck his head in. “Sorry to interrupt, Sheriff, Peg stepped out a minute. And you’ve got an urgent call on line two. It’s Detective Wells from Davidson County.”

Mitch snatched up the receiver as Dixon pulled the door closed behind him. “Hayden.” Dammit. He didn’t need any interruptions right now.

“Hey, Mitch. Wells here. You have an Alex Preston in protective custody in regards to the Miller case?”

“That’s right.” Mitch ignored the rapt attention focused on him from across the desk. What the hell was this about? Alex hadn’t been out of his sight all night.

“We’ve got what looks like a suicide up here. We found a business card for Preston in the woman’s room,” Wells added. “I think maybe you’d better come have a look.” He rattled off the location.

“What’s the victim’s name?” Mitch stiffened when he heard it. “I’ll be there in half an hour.” He dropped the receiver back into its cradle and settled his gaze on Alex’s expectant one. “Your client no longer has an interest in this case, Ms. Preston.”

“What are you saying?” Uncertainty flickered in her amber eyes.

“Jasna Bukovak is dead.”

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.