THE PROTECTOR’S MISSION

Honoring a promise to a fallen comrade, former army medic David Evans heads to Arizona to check up on the soldier’s sister. But as his train pulls into Desert Valley, David witnesses a drug run gone wrong and narrowly avoids the bullets flying his way. And when the police show up, he discovers the investigating officer is the woman he’s supposed to look after. With a fiercely protective K-9 partner and a new badge, Whitney Godwin insists she can take care of herself and her infant daughter. But the criminals want both David and Whitney permanently silenced, so David will stop at nothing to protect the family he yearns to join.

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

“You were amazing out there,” David said.

He meant that. “If anything had happened to you—”

Whitney shook her head. “Your overly protective attitude is kind of chivalrous, but I told you I had it covered. I can take care of myself.”

“And I told you, I wasn’t about to leave you there.”

“Would you have left a male officer?” she asked.

David glanced at her, hoping to make her understand. But she had him on that one.

“But because I’m a rookie and a woman, you felt the need to rush in and help me. Don’t do that again.”

Wow. She sure had a chip on her pretty shoulder. Seemed she also had a lot to prove. “It’s not in my nature to just leave a woman alone when she could be in danger. I’m not sorry I stayed.”

“Well, cowboy, I do appreciate your assistance, but hopefully there won’t be another time for you to play the hero.”

ROOKIE K-9 UNIT:

These lawmen solve the toughest cases

with the help of their brave canine partners

Protect and Serve—Terri Reed, April 2016

Truth and Consequences—Lenora Worth, May 2016

Seek and Find—Dana Mentink, June 2016

Honor and Defend—Lynette Eason, July 2016

Secrets and Lies—Shirlee McCoy, August 2016

Search and Rescue—Valerie Hansen, September 2016

LENORA WORTH writes award-winning romance and romantic suspense. Three of her books finaled in the ACFW Carol Awards, and her Love Inspired Suspense novel Body of Evidence became a New York Times bestseller. Her novella in Mistletoe Kisses made her a USA TODAY bestselling author. With sixty books published and millions in print, she goes on adventures with her retired husband, Don, and enjoys reading, baking and shopping…especially shoe shopping. Visit her on the web at lenoraworth.com.

Truth and
Consequences
Lenora Worth

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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For where envying and contention is,

there is inconstancy, and every evil work.

—James 3:16

Many thanks to my fellow writers in this series—

Terri Reed, Lynette Eason, Shirlee McCoy, Dana Mentink

and Valerie Hansen. I loved working with all of you.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

NINETEEN

TWENTY

Dear Reader

Extract

Copyright

ONE

“Next stop, Desert Valley, Arizona.”

David Evans took a deep breath and got up to exit the passenger train, glad to finally be at his destination. Now if he could locate the woman he’d come here to see.

There were only two other people left in this car. Two men wearing baseball caps and dark shades. They’d kept to themselves most of the trip from Los Angeles, and so had David. There was something about these two.

They grabbed their carry-on duffels and rushed out of their seats so fast they stumbled upon the car attendant coming up the aisle. Startled, one of them dropped his tattered black bag, causing it to rip open.

Several colorful bundles covered in shrink-wrap crashed onto the floor. Everything after that happened so fast—David’s blood pressure spiked, and he felt himself slipping back into the arid mountains of Afghanistan.

The attendant’s surprise turned to realization, his gaze moving from the two men to the packages spilling from the duffel.

“Keep moving, old man,” one of the men told the attendant. “Don’t you have someplace else to be?”

The attendant stared at the bag. “No, can’t do that. I’m afraid I’ll have to report this immediately.”

“Wrong answer.” One of them pulled a knife on the frightened older attendant, stabbing him in the stomach. The attendant went down on his knees, shock and fear evident in his wide-eyed stare.

David saw the whole thing from his seat a few feet up the aisle. While the two argued about leaving without the packages they’d dropped, David hurried to help the injured man.

But one of the men pulled out a gun and pointed it at David, his expression hard-edged while his trigger finger twitched. “Get out of here. Now.”

David glanced up at the man holding a gun on him and then down at the bleeding man lying on the floor of the passenger train. “I’m not leaving. I’m a medic, and this man needs help.”

He braced himself and knelt down beside the attendant, fully expecting to be shot. Which was kind of ironic since he’d just returned from Afghanistan. He’d managed to survive the front lines, and now he might be killed while trying to honor the promise he’d made to a dying soldier.

Before the standoff could continue, voices outside caused the gunman’s friend to whirl in a nervous dance. “I didn’t agree to this,” he said in a growling whisper, his oversize red baseball cap covering most of his face. “Man, if you shoot him, the DEA and every cop around here will be on us. We need to leave.”

The man holding the gun glanced around, the sweat of panic radiating off him like hot steam. Then he spouted off to his short but wise buddy, his words as brittle as desert sand. “Get all that up and let’s go. Now!”

He kept the gun on David while his nervous helper shoved the packages back inside the gaping duffel. “You better keep traveling, mister, if you want to live.” Then he pointed to the moaning attendant. “I’ll finish off both of you if either of you talks.”

David held his breath and stayed on his knees near the injured attendant while the two men rushed off the train, baseball caps pulled low over their faces and sunglasses hiding their eyes. But the minute he saw them heading for a black SUV in the small parking lot near the square Tudor-style train station, he pulled out his cell and called 911. Straining to see, he memorized only part of the license plate and quickly glanced at what looked like some sort of Aztec emblem centered over the plates.

“I’m a medic,” he told the shocked older man after giving the dispatcher the needed information. “I’m going to help you, okay?” He checked the man’s vitals and found a weak pulse.

The pale-faced man nodded, his expression full of fright, his pupils dilating as he went into shock. “He stabbed me.”

“I saw,” David said. Taking off the button-up shirt over his old T-shirt, he quickly used it to stanch the blood oozing from the gash in the man’s abdomen. “Lie still while I examine you. Help should be on the way.”

The man moaned and closed his eyes. “My wife is gonna be so mad.”

David sank down beside the man, hoping to keep him talking. “Hey, buddy, what’s your name?”

“Herman,” the man said. “Herman Gallagher.” Then he grabbed David’s arm. “You need to report this to our conductor, too. Drugs. I think they had drugs in those bags.”

David did as he asked, and soon the conductor and several attendants were moving up and down the aisles.

David put up a hand to hold them away and kept talking to the man after handing his phone to a young assistant, who stayed on the line with 911. When he heard sirens, he breathed a sigh of relief. Though he was concerned because of Mr. Gallagher’s age and still disoriented himself, he’d seen much worse than this in the heat of battle. But right now, he was struggling to fight his own flashbacks.

This trip had sure ended with a bang.

And he hadn’t even stepped off the train to his final destination.

He’d come here searching for a woman he didn’t really know, except in his imagination. But a promise was a promise. He wasn’t leaving Desert Valley without finding her.

When he looked up a few minutes later to see a pretty female officer with long blond hair coming toward him, a sleek tan-and-white canine pulling on a leash in front of her, David thought he surely must be dreaming. Either that or his flashbacks were taking a new turn.

He knew that face. Had seen it in his dreams many times over.

While he sat on the cold train floor holding a bloody shirt to a man who was about to pass out, he looked up and into the vivid blue eyes of the woman he’d traveled here to find. The woman who’d colored his dreams during the brutality of war and made him wish he could finally settle down. Thinking of the worn picture in his pocket that her brother, Lucas, had given him right before he died, David couldn’t believe this was really happening.

Whitney Godwin was coming to his aid.

* * *

Whitney took one look at the two men on the train floor and went into action. Turning to her partner, a white-and-tan pointer appropriately named Hunter, she commanded, “Stay.”

Hunter whimpered, his shiny nose sniffing the air, his dark eyes lifting to her in a definite alert. Did the big dog sense something else around here? Hunter was trained in drug detection, so it was possible. They’d both recently finished an intense twelve-week session in town, so Whitney knew they were up to the task. Yet her heart beat with a burst of adrenaline that shouted, This is the real deal.

She took a good look at the injured train attendant and the man helping him. They’d both have to be questioned and cleared. “We’ll get to our search later, Hunter.”

Turning from Hunter, she spoke into the radio attached to her shoulder. “James, need that bus, stat. We have one injured and one who doesn’t look so hot.” Then she added, “We need to clear the train, too. Hunter’s a little antsy.”

“Bus is en route. ETA three minutes,” James Harrison, fellow rookie, responded. “I’ll take Hawk and have a look around, question some of the bystanders. Ellen’s on the way. She and Carly can help with a sweep.”

Ellen Foxcroft was also a rookie, and her golden retriever, Carly, was trained in tracking. Her mother, the formidable Marian Foxcroft, who’d always been supportive of the K9 training program in Desert Valley, had recently made an offer to Chief Jones that he couldn’t ignore. They’d all been asked to stay here after graduation from the training course to help investigate the high-profile murder of their master trainer, Veronica Earnshaw.

Marian had offered to underwrite their salaries since she wanted Veronica’s murder solved right away. Not to mention, she wanted the two suspicious deaths of two former rookies to be declared accidents once and for all. Marian didn’t like any black marks on the Desert Valley Police Department’s record. But someone seemed to have a beef with Marian, too, since she’d been found unconscious in her home a few weeks ago and was still in a coma at the Canyon County Regional Medical Center located twenty miles west of Desert Valley. Ellen had requested round-the-clock security for her mother’s room. They were all on high alert.

“Roger that,” Whitney responded to James. While the rookies were still in Desert Valley, they took whatever calls they could to gain experience. James’s dog, Hawk, a bloodhound trained in crime scene investigations, would sniff out any evidence. And she’d get Hunter on that, too. “I’ll stay with the eyewitness.”

Then she turned to the railroad employees and urged them to keep away the anxious passengers craning their necks to see what had happened. Her fellow officers would conduct interviews with the few passengers waiting to return to the train. Maybe they, or some of the passengers about to board for the first time, had seen something.

Whitney leaned over the two men. “Hey, I’m Officer Whitney Godwin with the Desert Valley K9 Unit.” For now. Just until she could get through this murder investigation and, she hoped, move back to Tucson. Centering her gaze on the young, good-looking one, she asked, “Can you tell me what happened here?”

He nodded and blinked as if refocusing, his hand splayed across a bloody shirt covering the other man’s wound. “Two men came up the aisle, heading for the exit.” He pointed to his left, indicating the third coach seat from the door. “They had two big duffels, and they ran smack into Mr. Gallagher here.” He stopped and sucked in a breath. “A bag ripped open and packages fell everywhere. All different colors but about the same size. Pretty obvious that they were carrying drugs.”

Whitney nodded and took notes. No wonder Hunter was champing at the bit. Drugs? “Okay. What happened after that?”

“One of them stabbed Mr. Gallagher.” He motioned to the injured man. “That same one saw me moving up the aisle and pulled a gun on me, but when they heard voices outside, the other man talked him out of shooting me. They grabbed their duffels and left. I watched them get into a dark SUV in the parking lot.”

He checked the injured man’s pulse and talked to him in soothing, reassuring tones. “Hang on, Mr. Gallagher. Help is coming.”

Whitney went over her notes to make sure she had everything, his soothing voice calming her, too. He had a distinctive accent, a Southern drawl. “Did they pull a gun on the victim?”

“No. He surprised them. The man stabbed him, probably to keep anyone from hearing. But I saw the whole thing, so he pulled the gun on me.” David shook his head. “I guess they thought everyone had exited already, and we both surprised them.”

“He’s telling the truth,” Mr. Gallagher said in a weak voice. “He threatened this young man if he talked. Threatened me, too, but I’m not scared of any criminal. Drug runners are getting mighty bold these days.”

“Got it,” Whitney said, glancing at the man aiding the victim. Obviously he hadn’t taken that threat seriously, either. “And again, where were you, sir, when this took place?”

He looked up at her with deep brown eyes that were now clear and sure. “The last seat on the right, near the door to the next car. I...I’m an army medic. I mean, I’m a former army medic.”

“Army medic?” That brought a heavy pain to Whitney’s heart. Her brother had been a sergeant in the army. But he’d been killed almost a year ago. Before she could figure out how to tell him about all the changes in her life.

I made it, Lucas. She had so much she wanted to tell her big brother, such as that she’d passed through her second stint of training without a hitch and that she had an amazing responsibility in her life, her baby daughter, Shelby, but now it was too late.

At least her brother had accepted her choice of careers before he’d died. Wishing he could have seen her graduate after her second attempt to finish the rigorous twelve-week K9 training here in Desert Valley, Whitney pushed aside the too-sad thoughts of her brother and got back to her job.

“Okay, that’s good. You’re both doing great. The paramedics should be here any minute.”

Already she could hear another dog barking. Probably one of her fellow rookies coming to help out. They were all stuck here on the big investigation into the murder of Veronica Earnshaw and the suspicious deaths of the two rookies.

Whitney didn’t have time right now to think about those deaths, even though she’d been personally involved with one of the victims.

For now this stabbing had to be her top priority. She needed to get the details right or she’d hear an earful from Chief Jones. The chief had her on his radar since she’d gone to him with a theory regarding one of those deaths, a theory he’d found hard to believe. If she messed this up, he might think she wasn’t qualified for the job.

The medic seemed calmer now, so she hoped she could trust his eyewitness details to be accurate. He seemed capable and sure, even if he was a bit disoriented.

Then, because she wanted to know, and needed to know for her report, she asked, “What’s your name?”

“David Evans.” He waited as if he expected her to say something else, his brown eyes bright with anticipation.

Whitney wrote his name in her notes. They’d run a background check on him. “You’re passing through?”

With what looked like relief in his eyes, he shook his head. “No. I’m here to stay for a while. Maybe.”

Surprised, Whitney added that to her notes. “Welcome to Desert Valley.”

He gave her a tight smile. “Thanks. Is it always like this?”

Whitney shook her head. “No. More like routine traffic stops and bar brawls. But...we do get some drug runners through here now and then.” She glanced back at her anxious partner. Hunter wanted to get on the move. “Did you happen to see the license plate on the SUV?”

He squinted, blinked. “I...I think. But only partly. The numbers one and five and...and several letters that might be some sort of vanity plate. I can’t remember the name, but there was a symbol over the plate—on the back of the SUV. I didn’t get the details, but it was small. I got a quick glance.”

“Maybe it’ll come back to you,” Whitney said, observing his clipped chestnut-brown hair. He seemed to be in good shape other than the shock that must have hit him right after he’d witnessed all of this. But he wore a mantle of weariness, too. He looked world-weary and rugged, almost haggard. And tired.

She jotted down what he’d said. “Can you describe the two men?”

“I’m not sure of their race, but both had dark hair, and they were kind of disguised and wearing baseball caps—one was red. The guy who stabbed Mr. Gallagher and pointed a gun at me—he had a thick beard and longer hair, and he wore a black hat. He was tall. The other one was shorter. They had on sunglasses.” He gave her their estimated heights and weights. “And...they both had the same kind of dark bag. Old and worn and full of what looked like birthday gifts or some kind of shipment, but it had to be drugs.”

“We’ll do a thorough check of the train,” she said, never doubting he was correct. Mr. Gallagher was right. This was happening a lot lately.

When Whitney heard sirens, she breathed easier. The heat inside the train was stifling even though it was early spring. She wouldn’t go home until she and Hunter had sniffed and searched this entire train and talked to the other employees and questioned the few passengers who waited to board. She was relieved that help for this injured man was on the way.

“You did a good job,” she told David. “Now you can relax and let my friends take over.”

But Mr. Brown Eyes grabbed her arm. “I’m pretty sure those two will try something else. Drug couriers are ruthless, pretty packages aside.”

Whitney nodded, suspecting the same thing. “My partner, Hunter, will alert if any drugs have been transported, and we’ll put out a BOLO on the suspects.”

When they heard the paramedics coming onto the train, David turned to Mr. Gallagher. “The posse’s here, sir. You’ll be in good hands. I know you’re in pain, but I think you’ll be fine. The wound isn’t as deep as it feels and thankfully, from what I can tell, the knife didn’t hit any major organs.” He glanced at Whitney. “I’ll give them the rundown on his vitals.”

“Thank you, son,” the older man said. “You’re a hero.”

“You’re welcome, sir,” David replied, wearing an embarrassed expression, his face coloring.

Mr. Gallagher nodded. “And thank you for serving our country.”

David’s eyes met Whitney’s, a pain etched there in the dark irises. “Yes, sir.”

Whitney got the feeling that he wanted to say something else. Maybe the newcomer knew more about all of this than he was willing to divulge right now.

TWO

David leaned against the back of the old Crown Victoria and waited for Officer Godwin and her K9 partner, Hunter, to return. The ambulance had left, and two other patrol cars were now leaving. The impatient passengers who wanted to continue their journeys were waiting inside the quaint little train station while the K9 officers inspected their luggage piled up outside. As far as he knew, none of them had witnessed the event or the two men leaving the train. Suitcase by suitcase, their luggage was cleared so they could board.

Maybe he should do that, too. He could keep drifting, forget his troubles and...try to find a normal life again.

But he wasn’t about to go anywhere until he knew Whitney was safe. Which was stupid, really. She was the one with a gun and a trained canine partner. She could certainly take care of herself, based on what Lucas had told him and based on what he’d seen here today. She might look like a cheerleader, but she was all business on the job.

According to Lucas, Whitney was stubborn and hugely independent. When they’d first met, Lucas had proudly explained that after a couple of years as a beat cop back in Tucson, Whitney had been accepted as part of a training program for K9 officers based here in Desert Valley. But he’d had concerns about the whole thing since he knew the work could be grueling and dangerous. They’d argued before he deployed, but after admitting that no one had stopped him from following his own path, Lucas had finally emailed Whitney and apologized, only to learn that she’d had to drop out of the program. David had no doubt that Lucas loved his sister.

“She had some trouble, but she’s gonna try again next spring,” Lucas had stated a few days before he’d been wounded. “That’s Whitney. She never gives up.”

Lucas had died a week later. That had been last summer.

It had taken David months to get here. After finishing his deployment and returning stateside, he’d fought against this quest. He hadn’t even been home to Texas yet, mainly because there wasn’t much left there for him. Now that he was here, he was pretty sure Whitney would be shocked and surprised that he’d followed through on a deathbed promise to her brother.

And yet he couldn’t leave her. He kept watching the shadows of her long ponytail, the silhouette of her moving through the train for one last search. He’d watched in amazement earlier as the sleek, powerful dog—a pointer, she’d told him—did just that, pointed near the seats where those two men had been. Hunter had stopped with his nose in the air, his tail lifted in statue-like stillness. Then he’d become agitated and aggressive, growling low while he pawed the floor by the seats.

After Whitney had encouraged Hunter to “Go find,” the big dog had sniffed and pawed. They’d found a package wrapped to look like a gift box that had slid under the seat when the bag had torn open. Obviously the two couriers hadn’t seen it when they’d dropped part of the duffel’s contents. But the lone package they’d left behind would create a lot more than birthday-party memories. Heroin. With a street value of hundreds of thousands of dollars per kilo, according to what he’d heard Whitney and some of the others discussing.

Hunter sniffed out a couple more spots, two sleeping car closets and two bathrooms. David heard Whitney telling one of the officers that drugs had obviously been transported in those areas, too, since he’d alerted on both.

“No telling how long they’ve been using this route,” she’d said to an older, distinguished-looking man she’d addressed as Chief Jones. “We’ll have to study the video cameras and the passenger manifest, too. Maybe pick up an image or establish a pattern.”

Now David looked up to find her walking toward him with another K9 officer she’d introduced as Ellen Foxcroft, a native of Desert Valley, and her K9 partner, Carly, a golden retriever specializing in tracking.

“Thanks,” Whitney said to her friend after they stopped by Ellen’s vehicle. “So we know based on Carly’s alert and Hawk’s detection of that dusty shoe print that they got into a vehicle here in the lot, as our witness reported.”

Ellen listened to Whitney and then glanced over at David and nodded. “And based on the partial plate your witness here was able to remember, we might be able to find that vehicle soon.” She nodded to David and then opened the door to her vehicle to let Carly inside the back. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Whitney. We’ll compare notes.”

Whitney agreed and then turned to give David a dark scowl, her blue eyes flashing aggravation. Aside from the frown on her pretty face, she looked kind of cute in her uniform. She was buff but she was also dainty, like a fragile flower. Only she was way too fierce to be a flower. One tough female. David’s heart beat an extra thump at the danger she had to put herself through in order to do her job.

Same as her brother.

“Why are you still here?” she asked, suspicion lacing the question. “We’ve cleared the scene, and I have to file an official report. I have your contact information. You’re free to go until we call you in to look at mug shots.”

“I’m waiting on you,” he said, thinking if he told her he’d stayed behind to keep an eye on her, she’d laugh in his face. David didn’t think right now would be a good time to explain that her late brother had sent him here.

“You really don’t need to worry about me,” she retorted. Glancing back at the train and then at her alert partner, she said, “We didn’t find anything else during that last sweep. But we dusted for prints on the seats where we found the one package, and we found some shoe prints, so maybe those clues will turn something up.”

David waited while she gave Hunter water and food from two tin buckets she had clipped inside his wire kennel in her police car.

“You did a good job, Hunter,” she mumbled in a sweet voice that tickled at David’s senses like butterfly wings. “Such a good boy.”

Hunter gave her a grateful stare and started gnawing on a rope throw that David guessed was his chew treat after each find. David gave her an appraising glance and realized how tough she was underneath that porcelain doll skin and sunshine-blond hair.

Satisfied, she turned to David. “Where are you headed?”

“I don’t know, honestly. I’m on some R & R right now, meandering around the West, taking in the sights. Maybe volunteering to help here and there. Thought I’d find a place nearby for the night.”

So I can stay near you for a while.

Her suspicions hit like sunspots all around him. “There’s a bed-and-breakfast in town. The Desert Rose, right off Desert Valley Drive. You might find a room there. Just until you decide which way you want to go.”

Then she gave him a no-nonsense stare. “Of course, you need to stick around anyway in case you can help us identify those two. I’ll talk to the chief and see if we need to call you in to the station tomorrow.”

He nodded, taking advantage of the intro. “Why not now? I can go to the station tonight since I’m in no hurry.”

She checked her watch. “We’ve put out a bulletin on any dark SUVs matching your description, but drug couriers are notorious for switching up vehicles or changing license plates. Look, it’s late, and I have to be somewhere. First thing tomorrow, okay? But if you remember anything before then, here’s my card.”

In spite of everything that had happened, David was almost glad he had a legitimate excuse to stay in town. He pocketed her business card, also grateful for the contact number.

“I did some searches online when I decided to take this trip. I found some information about the Desert Valley Clinic. One article mentioned the need for more funding and more doctors. They use volunteer doctors, physician’s assistants, and nurses for the free services they offer.” He’d have to sign a waiver to get a temporary license to practice at free clinics in the state. “Thought I might volunteer there while I’m here. Don’t want to get rusty.”

“And exactly why are you here when you could be anywhere in the world right now?” she asked, her eyes scanning the train again before she whipped her gaze back to him. “Because I’ve never heard of anyone wanting to spend downtime in Desert Valley or wanting to volunteer to work with Dr. Pennington.”

David braced himself and stored up her pointed notations for future reference. He’d have to be careful with this one. Whitney would keep digging until she had him figured out. “Well—”

But Whitney Godwin was no longer listening to him. She held up her finger and then, giving Hunter a silent command, drew her weapon and took off in a crouched run toward the empty train.

* * *

A man scurried toward the train like a lizard, his head down and his back hunched. He wore a burgundy hat and dark shades.

Whitney spotted him when she glanced back while talking with David. She’d have to figure out the medic’s angle and his story later. Right now, she intended to nab two criminals. With her gun drawn and Hunter waiting for her command as he trailed along, she hurried around the stopped train and looked up and down the tracks.

Nothing. No one. Had she only imagined seeing someone? No, she’d seen the man, and his description had fit the one David Evans and Mr. Gallagher had given her. She hadn’t slept much last night, but she wasn’t imagining things. Fatigue weighed on her like a blanket of dry heat, but she kept her cool and went on with doing her job. Being a rookie meant she always had to go the extra mile. Being a female police officer meant she had to work twice as hard as the men around her.

She checked the front of the stopped train again and then walked by the narrow openings between the four small passenger cars, and headed to the car where she and Hunter had found a kilo of heroin earlier.

“C’mon, Hunter,” she commanded. Hunter went in ahead of her, doing his job with practiced excitement. He sniffed and moved on, sniffed again, dug around some and then kept up the search.

Could one of these men have come back for the package they’d dropped? Or did they have more stashed elsewhere?

Thinking it was mighty bold of this one to creep back so soon after they’d taken off earlier, Whitney glanced around. They’d allowed the few passengers traveling west to get back on, but some of the passenger cars were still empty.

Easy for someone to slip in and hide.

Whitney moved behind Hunter up the aisle, careful to search every compartment and seat. When they didn’t find anything, she shook her head and wiped at the sweat dripping down her brow. It would be so nice to get home and have a long shower. But she had reports to file and other obligations to consider.

And one very good-looking medic hanging around for no good reason. Her suspicions regarding David Evans increased by the minute. His excuse for being here didn’t make sense to her practical way of thinking. And yet he’d put his own life on the line to help the injured attendant, and he’d cooperated fully with the police. He’d answered her questions without hesitation.

Maybe she was too tired to have any clear thoughts right now.

“Let’s get out of here,” she said to Hunter, her gut telling her the criminal was still lurking somewhere near the train.

They exited the train and she did one last sweep, checking between the sleek cars, looking underneath, turning toward the scraggly woods.

Then Hunter let out a guttural growl and stood staring at a spot at the end of the train.

“Go ahead,” Whitney commanded as she drew her gun and hurried down the side of the tracks near a copse of ponderosa pines, dry shrubs and chaparrals. A few spring wildflowers peeked out in bright orange and red, interspersed underneath a scraggly cactus bush, but she was interested only in seeing what Hunter wanted her to see.

Hunter took off, silent but steady, toward the scattered rocks and shrubs.

Whitney followed. When Hunter alerted again, she crouched down near a jutting rock. Too late to call for backup. She’d have to do this on her own. Bracing for action, she whirled out from the rock with her weapon ready only to find a dirty black shirt lying on the ground.

Then Hunter started barking. She heard a click behind her. “Halt the dog and drop the gun.”

Whitney did as he asked. “Stay,” she said to Hunter in a commanding voice, her insides like jelly. Then she slowly laid her gun on the ground, her mind racing. This could go wrong if she lost her cool. Hunter growled low, but he wouldn’t attack without her order.

Could she do this? Could she risk having her K9 partner shot in midair? Hunter was still in training, too. What if he got hurt because of her carelessness?

“Stay,” she told him again, her tone firm in spite of her trembling nerves.

She glanced back and found a handgun pointed at her head by a tall bearded man wearing a black baseball cap and dark shades. But this wasn’t the man she’d seen running beside the train. That man had been wearing the dark red baseball cap and had shorter hair. Which meant he was probably moving through the train car, looking for any lost packages of heroin. They’d set a trap.

“What do you want?” she asked the man who held his gun pointed at her.

“Keep telling the dog to heel,” he whispered in a rasp that burned her neck.

Hunter stood growling, ready to attack.

“Stay,” Whitney commanded, her pulse pumping adrenaline through her body. “Stay.”

Hunter didn’t move, but the big dog’s whole body shook with aggression, his bared teeth visible.

“One move from you, lady, and that dog and you both die.” He twisted her around and jerked her arm with a brutal grasp, his rancid breath hissing against her ear.

“I’m not a lady,” she retorted. “I’m a police officer.”

The stench of his sweat assaulted her. Sweat and fear. “And a nosy one,” he replied on a huff of air. “Shoulda kept going.”

He pushed her deeper into the sparse, dry landscape, kicking up dust that made her want to cough. Whitney glanced around, her breath settling. No one had noticed them on the far side of the big train car, and now the train would soon be leaving the station. She wouldn’t let this criminal get to her, but she wasn’t going to die here, either. She’d get out of this. Somehow.

She’d acted too hastily and made a rookie mistake. She hadn’t been careful, and she hadn’t called for backup. Hunter would do her bidding, but she had to find the right moment. She’d like to blame her lack of attention to detail on the mysterious medic who’d appeared here and stayed with her. But Whitney wasn’t one for pushing off blame on others. This was her mistake.

The man kicked her gun behind him, then shoved her into a cluster of pines and rock. Praying that someone would see what was happening, Whitney kept thinking ahead. He could be bringing her out here for only one reason.

Trying to memorize all the details around her, she took a deep breath. Black Hat had a tattoo on his lower arm. Some sort of intricate symbol. An arrow and three hanging feathers with what looked like a face in the arrow. Could it be the same symbol David Evans had mentioned seeing over the license plate of the SUV?

“So what’s your plan?” she asked in a matter-of-fact tone that belied the tremors running through her body. “Where’s your buddy?”

“Shut up so I can think,” he said into her ear. “We got surprised today, so I have to clean up this mess before the boss finds out.”

“Who’s your boss? If you agree to cooperate, we might be able to help you out. Think about it. Your boss won’t help you.”

His voice shook. “Right. I’m not buying that, so shut up.”

Whitney could take advantage of his nervous energy.

She prayed for calm and clarity. She’d been one of the best in her class when she’d returned to training this year, so she centered her thoughts on what she’d been taught. Determined to stay alive, she concentrated on her sweet five-month-old baby girl, Shelby. The baby she’d fought so hard to have. Alone. The baby her brother had never heard about because he’d died before she’d found the courage to tell him.

Whitney would regret for the rest of her life that Lucas would never know his niece. But she would fight for her child’s sake, too.

She was at her best when she was cornered and alone.

The man shoved her toward the tumbleweeds and scrub brush that surrounded the scant trees and jutting rocks. “Let’s get this done and over.”

The train now hissed like a big snake. He was waiting for the train to leave. It would serve as a cover when he shot her. So that meant his friend must have made it off the train without detection.

Adrenaline pumped a new energy through Whitney’s system. She had to act fast or she’d never see Shelby again.

She went limp so she could use her body to get away from the man holding her. It worked. Her body fell against the man, causing his hands to go up and giving her enough time to slip a booted foot behind his left calf and bring him down. But on the way down, she heard a grunt and then felt a blur of air rushing by her head. The next thing she knew, the man who’d been holding her let out a yelp of pain and dropped at her feet, his gun sliding over dry dirt and skidding to a stop a few feet away.

Surprised, she watched in amazement as a now familiar form crashed over the gunman who’d been about to shoot her and held him pinned to the ground.

THREE

The medic! She’d forgotten all about him. With a grunt, he lifted his right arm and hit the man on the head with a big jagged rock. Which didn’t do much in the way of injuries, so it wouldn’t keep him down long. But it gave David time to get up and Whitney enough time to react. Flipping the man over, she motioned to David, and he helped her control the man on the ground.

Hunter growled and danced, eyeing her for instructions.

“Guard,” Whitney ordered as she scrambled up, her breath leaving her body. David helped her, steadying her until she caught her breath and searched for her radio. The dog stood over the moaning man.

“He’ll bite you if I tell him to,” Whitney informed the man. “It’s up to you, but I strongly suggest you stay still and remain on your stomach.”

David glanced around and then spotted her gun. He grabbed it and held it on the man, who was now curled up with Hunter hovering over him. “Are you okay?” he asked Whitney.

She nodded and then reached out to David. “Give me the gun.”

David looked uncertain and then shook his head. “I’d feel better if you get him cuffed.”

Whitney debated and then nodded while she leaned over the suspect. “Now it’s your turn to stay still, or I will let my partner here tear you to shreds.”

Panic poured off the criminal on the ground. His eyes widened in fear, his gaze darting here and there. “My partner will be here soon.”

“No, he won’t,” David said. “I saw him heading the other way about five minutes ago. He left you.”

And the train was finally leaving the station. Once it was well up the tracks in a fading echo, the desert went quiet. Whitney reached for her cuffs, using her strength to hold the man while she tried to slap the restraints against his wrists.

But the man on the ground turned desperate. He rolled and came at her with both feet kicking, causing her to flip in the air before she ever got the first cuff secured. Hunter barked and danced while Whitney felt herself sliding on dry rock, her knees and hands burning with heat and friction, the cuffs slipping out of her grip. The criminal and she both reached and grabbed for the handgun he’d lost before, the weapon out of reach between them. Hunter went into frenzied barking while Whitney fought with a person who had twice her strength.

David grabbed the man and lifted him away before the criminal could get to the gun. This time, David put a booted foot on the man’s chest and held her gun to the man’s head.

“Don’t even think about it,” David said, his tone deep and full of rage. “I’ll shoot you in the leg and damage you for life. If you doubt me, I can show you which artery I’ll hit. You might bleed to death before help can come.”

The man spewed out a round of nasty words, but Whitney saw him eyeing David as if he didn’t believe him. She hustled into action, grabbed her lost radio and took her gun back from David.

She motioned to the man. “On your stomach again.”

This criminal would not give in. He gave both of them a quick glance and then stared at Hunter before he jumped up, knocked her down again and then sprinted across the rocks with all his might. David threw his body over hers, holding her gun aimed at the man who was now running toward the open tracks.

Pain shooting up her arms, she commanded Hunter to “Bite,” and then watched the man getting away, Hunter chasing him.

A black SUV slid up next to the tracks, its tires burning rubber and slinging dirt and rocks. The driver opened the passenger-side door. “Hurry. We’ll take care of this later.”

The man sped up, but Hunter nipped at his pants and tore part of the left pants leg away before the suspect threw himself inside the vehicle. It took off while he was still climbing inside. Hunter stood with the torn piece of fabric at his feet.

“Hunter, stay!” Whitney screamed at David, “Let me up!”

He rolled away, his gaze following the disappearing SUV.

“Give me my gun!” Whitney lifted herself up and started after them.

But a strong hand grabbed her and tugged her back.

David shook his head. “Let’s get out of here,” he said into her ear. “It’s too dangerous.”

“No,” she said, disbelief making her angry. “I have to go after them. It’s my job, and you’re hindering me from doing it.”

He held her there, his eyes as rich as dark leather. “They’ll kill you.”

If he thought that would hold her back, he was mistaken. Whitney pushed up again. Every muscle in her body hurt, and her skin burned with abrasions. “I said, let me go. Now!”

Hunter sensed she might be in danger and growled, his black eyes centered on David.

“I don’t like this,” she said. “Hunter’s reacting to my stress. He thinks you’re hurting me.”

But David wasn’t listening. He glared across the train tracks, watching, waiting, his hand holding her arm. “They’ve stopped. They might be coming back. They’ll ambush you again.”

Whitney took in a deep breath and called Hunter to come. She didn’t want to agree with the man, but she’d already messed up on so many levels. She couldn’t do this alone. Pushing back anger and frustration, she glared at him.

“I have to report in,” she said, reaching for her radio as she sank against a rock. After giving the dispatcher her location and a description of the men and the vehicle, she shifted away from David, her body still shaky. “We’ll up the search and the BOLO alert.”

When she tried to stand, one of her legs buckled. David tucked her weapon into his waistband and then scooped her up into his arms and started walking.

“Put me down,” Whitney shouted as David carried her through the heavy brush next to the train tracks. He might be tall and lanky, but the man had surprising strength. She should turn her weapon on him.

But when they heard a vehicle’s engine revving up down the tracks, Whitney looked up and into David’s eyes.

“They’re back,” he said. “We need to hide and wait for help.”

Taking her to a small copse of spindly pines, he gestured to a huge jagged rock, and they crouched behind it, David in front of her as if he were waiting for a battle to begin.

And maybe a battle was about to begin. These men were desperate and dangerous.

Whitney glared at him, her breath coming in huffs. “You should have stayed out of this. They know you. They’ve seen your face. That’s why they turned around. They have to eliminate any witnesses.”

He inhaled and stared through the bushes. “Yes, they saw my face when they came close to shooting me the first time. I’m trying to keep you from going after them because they know you now, too.”

Whitney struggled to find footing, his words sobering. “I don’t need your help. I mean it. Let me go.”

When they heard hurried footsteps, they stopped arguing.

David glanced at her, relieved. “That’s probably one of your patrol officers coming to check on us.” Then he gave her an imploring stare. “You heard those men. They’ll keep coming. To deal with this problem.”

Whitney had the distinct feeling that he wasn’t referring to the other bags of heroin.

* * *

“You shouldn’t have interfered.”

David glanced over at the woman who’d practically forced him to get into her vehicle earlier so she could take him in to give a statement and look at mug shots. After she’d been confronted by the same two men a second time, both Whitney and Chief Jones had decided now would be a good time to identify them.

After they’d both been checked over by the EMTs at the scene and she’d gone over the details with Chief Jones and handed over the suspect’s handgun and the torn fabric from his pants as evidence, David had been questioned. Then she’d brought him to the police station, where it seemed the whole rookie team had gathered for some sort of briefing.

David had noticed at least five other K9 officers, four men and one other woman, plus several older officers milling around. For a small-town department, Desert Valley sure had a lot of willing law enforcement personnel right now.

And they’d all checked him out in one way or another.

He’d glanced at mug shots for what seemed like hours. He’d also described what he’d remembered about the symbol he’d seen on the license plate of the SUV. “It looked like an arrow, pointing up. And feathers. Three or four, maybe, dangling down.” There was something else, but he couldn’t remember what he was missing.

“We get a lot of that around here,” Whitney’s fellow officer, Eddie Harmon, had said with a shrug. “And we don’t have an artist on site to sketch it out for us.”

“I saw a tattoo on one of the men’s arms,” Whitney had told David and Eddie. “Could be the same.” She’d glanced over at a tall female officer with short brown hair who had an Amazonian-type build. “Louise, maybe you can do some research on tattoos for us, based on the description.”

“I’ll see what I can find,” the woman had replied.

David had gone back to searching the mug shots, but he was glad Whitney had verified what he’d seen. Maybe it was some sort of cartel symbol or a popular Southwestern tattoo.

But he couldn’t match any of the faces in the books to the two men who’d caused all the trouble on the train. Now he wondered if they’d both disguised themselves.

“Go home, Godwin,” the chief, a tall man with a paunch and thick gray hair, had finally commanded. “And stay home and rest tomorrow morning. You look a little beat up, and I noticed you’ve been favoring that left leg.”

Whitney had frowned, but she hadn’t argued with the man. Instead, she’d made a couple of phone calls and seemed anxious to leave the station.

After the two hours or so they’d spent together, she’d also offered to give David a ride to the nearest inn. “It’s on the way,” she’d explained. “So get in and don’t argue with me.”

Now back in the squad car with her, and refusing to apologize for coming to her aid, David said, “I was trying to help. There were two of them, and they’re obviously ruthless. They might have killed you if I’d left you there.”

“But I’m a trained officer,” Whitney replied, her blue eyes popping fire. “I could have handled it.”

“You’re also a rookie,” David said. “And Desert Valley isn’t exactly a large town.”

She stopped the car in front of the Desert Rose B and B, which seemed to live up to its name. The big Victorian house was painted a blush pink and surrounded by rosebushes. “How did you know I was a rookie?”

David realized he’d made a mistake. But he’d learned to listen and observe during his years on the front lines. “I...uh...heard you talking back at the train station, to that other officer—Eddie. I think he was teasing you about it.”

Which was true. David had witnessed how the older officer’s teasing seemed to rub her the wrong way. To change the subject, he said, “Let me have a look at your hands again.”

“My hands are fine,” she said, her expression full of fatigue.

“Let me check,” he said, his gaze moving over her.

She reluctantly held out her hands.

“You should have let the paramedic bandage these scratches.” He reached for her, taking her right hand in his so he could turn it over and look at her palm. In spite of being tough, she had delicate, graceful hands. “Hard to see your wounds in this light, but you need to wash these scratches and cuts with soap and water and make sure you flush all the embedded dirt and rock out. And if you don’t have some antibacterial ointment, you need to stop and get some.”

“Okay.” She pulled her hand away, wincing. “Okay, I’ll take care of it. I have soap and I have ointment.”

“And stay off that ankle. It might be a light sprain. You need to—”

“RICE,” she interrupted, impatient with him. “Rest, ice, compression and elevation. I know the drill, Doc.”

David tried to get her to open up. “I guess you’re used to slamming bad guys against the rocks, huh?”

“Not really,” she admitted. “Only in training up to now. But I got in a lot of quality experience today, I guess.”

“You were amazing.” He meant that. He was still in awe of her.

Her suspicious stare mellowed to a confused scowl. “Eddie Harmon—the officer you heard teasing me earlier—is totally harmless and probably doesn’t even realize he’s insulting me. He likes to pick on me since I’m one of the few female officers around here. And he’s not much help with an investigation. He’s been on the force for thirty years, and I think he’s not really into chasing anyone or solving anything. He hates even issuing tickets.”

Glad he’d distracted her, David nodded. That older officer was a fine one to talk. “Explains why he left the scene before the rest of you did. If anything had happened to you—”

She shook her head and gave him an aggravated glare. “He likes to get home in time to have dinner with his wife and kids. Your overly protective attitude is kind of chivalrous but I told you, I had it covered.”

“And I told you, I wasn’t about to leave you there.”

“Would you have left a male officer?”

David glanced at her, hoping to make her understand. But she had him on that one. “Okay, probably yes.” Then he shrugged. “But I would have called 911 regardless.”

“But because I’m a rookie and a woman, you felt the need to rush in and help me. Don’t do that again.”

Wow. She sure had a chip on her shoulder. Seemed she also had a lot to prove.

“It’s not in my nature to leave a woman alone when she could be in danger. I’m not sorry I stayed.”

“Well, cowboy, I do appreciate your assistance, but ideally, there won’t be another time for you to play the hero.”

“I didn’t do it to be a hero.” David didn’t normally get this involved in trying to defend himself. But normally, he could at least form a complete sentence. “Look, I arrived here still reeling from what I’d been through over in Afghanistan. I saw all of this happening in front of my eyes, and I was concerned. Drug runners don’t mess around.”

She still wasn’t happy with him. With a dark frown, she stopped the squad car near the curb and motioned to the Desert Rose. “Go in and get yourself a room. I might need to question you again when I go back over my report, but right now I have to go.”

She glanced to Hunter behind a wired screen in the backseat, habitually checking on her partner. “At least we got a good look at their faces.” Giving him another serious stare, she added, “I’ll be in touch. Take care.”

“You take care, too.” David saw a flicker of concern pass through her eyes. “Look, if you’re worried about those guys—”

“I’m not.” Another blue-eyed glare. “I’d like to haul them in, but to do that, I have to go back over everything, including your part in this.”

Did she think he was part of this? Surely not.

Her next words confirmed that she didn’t. “If they see you hanging around, you’ll be on their radar. So be careful.”

“Same to you. They saw you. Up close.” He couldn’t stop thinking about that. “What if they come after you?”

“Hunter lives with me. He’ll alert.”

“And you feel comfortable with that?”

“Yes, I do.” She sighed and brushed at the hair escaping her ponytail. “Look, I appreciate your warnings, but...this is my job. I’ve trained for this, and I worked hard to become a K9 officer. I’ll be okay. You watch your back, all right?”

“Always.” He got out but turned and leaned back into the vehicle. She obviously wasn’t ready to listen to reason. And in spite of his misgivings, he wasn’t quite ready to blurt out the truth to her. “Thanks for your help today. I’m sorry I overstepped my bounds.”

“Relax,” she said. “You just got back from what had to be a lot of trauma. It’s natural you’d overreact.” Then her expression softened. “You remind me of my brother. He was always protective of me.”

David’s heart did a little lurch. He wanted to tell her that he’d known her brother. But not yet. Not after such a bad start.

He swallowed and looked over at her while he tried to hold it all together. “He sounds like a good brother.”

“He was.” She looked up and right into David’s eyes. “He was army—in Afghanistan. He died over there last year.”

“I’m sorry.” David stood there, wanting to comfort her, understanding her brother’s need to take care of her. She was strong and tough, but David saw that essence of vulnerability in her pretty eyes and let go of his courage yet again. “We lost a lot of good soldiers. I’m sorry I couldn’t save all of them.”

I’m sorry I couldn’t save your brother.

Compassion filled her eyes. “I’m sure you tried. You’re one of the heroes, David. But you’re home now, so take care of yourself.”

David decided he had to tell her the truth soon. She’d be angry at him all over again, but he thought she was the kind of woman who’d respect the truth.

He took a deep breath. “Hey, listen, I—”

Whitney gave him a distracted, impatient stare. Then she blinked and stared at the clock on the console. “I’m sorry, but it’s late and I’ve gotta go.”

David shut the door and watched as she sped off along Desert Valley Drive. She couldn’t get away from him fast enough. Or maybe she couldn’t get away from the emotions he evoked in her. Too many bad memories. That was what he carried around, too.

How would she react when she found out he’d promised her brother he’d come here to see her? How could he keep her safe when she was so bent on taking care of herself?

It had to be done. He needed to let Whitney know that he’d tried to save Lucas. And that he’d promised Lucas he’d do this. Tomorrow, once he was settled and acclimated to his surroundings, he’d find her and talk to her.

He wasn’t going anywhere for a few weeks at least. She’d get used to having him around. And he’d find a way to tell her exactly why he was here.

FOUR

David went inside the quaint inn, the chill of the dusk chasing him and the memory of Whitney cornered with a dangerous criminal still front and center in his mind.

“Well, you look plumb whipped,” the petite gray-haired woman behind the counter said with a smile, her plump hands splayed across the old wood. “I’m Rosa. How can I help you?”

David explained that he needed a room for an indefinite time. “And where can I rent a car?”

The woman laughed at that, her pink bifocals slipping down on her nose. “Not around here, dear. But...I have a loaner you can use. All I ask is that you gas her up and keep her running smoothly.”

David couldn’t argue with that. “Deal.”

* * *

Whitney pulled up to the small stucco house she rented from the Carters next door. When she’d first signed up for training last year, she’d stayed in the dorm-like condos next to the K9 Training Center. She’d met Shelby’s father there, Brian Miller. Whitney had been a rookie in every way, naive and eager to fit in. When the handsome, charming fellow rookie had started flirting with her in spite of the no-fraternizing policy, she’d fallen hard.

Brian hadn’t lived in the dorms, but he’d hung out there a lot. He’d had his own house between Desert Valley and another small town, about ten miles from the training center. He’d told her he preferred to live in his own place since he had a part-time job as a night watchman at a strip mall.

But she understood now, Brian had a house because he liked to take women there, where it was private and secluded. And apparently, he’d taken a lot of women there.

Brian had lied to her and cheated on her, even on the night before the police dance when she’d planned to tell him she was carrying his child. But then Brian had never made it to the dance. He’d died in a fire at his house about an hour before the dance started. Then, about two weeks later, her brother, Lucas, had been killed in Afghanistan.

Now Shelby would never know her daddy or her uncle. Whitney often wondered if Brian would have been happy to hear about the baby. Or would he have turned away from her?

She had no doubt Lucas would have loved Shelby, but he also would have made it his mission to come home and help Whitney out. She’d withheld telling him, and she’d paid dearly for that, too.

What did it matter now? Brian and her brother had both died too young. She knew how her brother had died. But she still didn’t understand why or how Brian had died. Until lately, no one in the department had wanted to listen to the one theory that she couldn’t shake. Had Brian been murdered?

Whitney glanced around, blinking. Night had settled in and with it, a desert chill. Every time she remembered Brian, the tug of a bittersweet struggle warred inside her soul. She’d loved him immediately. And he’d taken advantage of her completely. Now she had a beautiful baby girl and...because of Shelby, Whitney had turned her life around. She wanted to be worthy in her daughter’s eyes, so she’d dedicated her life to Christ and made a pledge to be very careful regarding men. But even after all the pain of Brian’s betrayal, Whitney still had concerns about how Brian had died.

In a house fire, supposedly from a burning candle.

His entire family had died in a horrible fire caused by a lit candle when he was a teenager. He’d been the only survivor. So Brian never lit candles in his house. Ever.

It didn’t make sense. But whenever she tried to explain that to people, they’d pat her on the hand and tell her the fire had been ruled as an accident. Whitney hoped to prove one day that the fire that had killed Brian had not been an accident. And since another rookie had died from a mysterious fall down the stairs of his home almost two years to the day before Brian died, she couldn’t help but notice certain similarities. Couple that with Veronica Earnshaw’s murder and the horrible murder of a police officer’s wife five years ago and...things were being to look eerily similar.

But she couldn’t think about that tonight. She needed to go next door and pick up Shelby. Marilyn Carter had four kids of her own, but she’d insisted on babysitting Shelby.

What’s one more, honey? She’ll fit right in and she’ll learn a lot faster, watching my rug rats running around.

Whitney loved the Carters, and so did Shelby. She paid Marilyn what she could and thanked God each day for the family who had helped her change her life for the better.

She might be starting out with the department, but she loved her job, and she hoped like most of the rookies to move on to a big-city department one day. She wanted Shelby to have what she’d never had—stability.

“C’mon, Hunter,” she said. “Here. Let’s go find Shelby.”

Whitney leashed the big dog and started toward her neighbors’ rambling ranch house. But Hunter held back.

“What’s wrong?” Whitney had never seen Hunter refusing to go next door. He loved the hustle and bustle of the crazy household full of children. He looked forward to seeing Shelby every day, too. “What’s up, Hunter?”

He bristled and started growling low, a sure sign that something wasn’t right. Whitney drew her weapon and ordered, “Go ahead.”

Hunter tugged her toward the gate to her backyard, his growls now turning into aggressive barking. When Whitney rounded the corner, her heart picked up its tempo. The gate stood open, a broken latch dangling against it, the sound of the metal hitting wood grating on her nerves as a reminder that she’d messed with some dangerous people today.

Someone had broken into her backyard.

Releasing Hunter, Whitney ordered the K9 to search. Hunter took off, growling and barking. Whitney followed, thankful for the security light shining a sickly yellow glow over most of the small backyard. When Hunter alerted near the fence running along the back of the property, Whitney noticed some broken branches on a spindly pine sapling and some splintered areas on the weathered wood. Sneakers? Someone had hopped this fence. Ordering Hunter ahead of her, she quickly checked the house. The back door was locked, but she could tell from the scratches etched near the wood on the old lock that someone had been here and had tried to get into her house. She and Hunter had scared them away.

By the time she’d gathered herself enough to go next door to pick up Shelby, she saw Jack Carter standing out on the porch, squinting into the darkness.

“What’s going on?” he asked, glancing at her house, his deep voice full of concern.

“A prowler, from what I could tell,” she said, knowing the big, burly mechanic would watch the neighborhood if he thought someone was messing with them. But Whitney wanted to reassure her neighbor. She wouldn’t put Jack and the family she trusted with her baby in danger. “Hunter will alert if they come back.”

“It’s getting as bad here as in the big towns,” Jack said. “Want me to take a look?”

“No. I checked everything. The house is still locked tight. We arrived in time to keep them from getting inside.”

“What do you think they wanted?” Jack asked, his hands on his hips.

She couldn’t tell him her suspicions since she wasn’t supposed to talk about an active case. It could get out around the neighborhood that drug dealers might be lurking in the area, and people might panic or, worse, take the law into their own hands. This could have been a coincidence, kids out for kicks. She hoped.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t have anything much of value in there.” She glanced back at her tiny little rental home. The home she’d decorated with secondhand items. The home she loved even if it was a temporary place until she got her first assignment. It might be a rental, but it meant the world to her while she was still here in Desert Valley. “But would you tell Marilyn to give me a few more minutes? I want to check inside just in case.”

“Sure,” Jack said. “Shelby is on her play quilt giggling at the boys. She’s fine.”

Whitney nodded. She wanted to keep it that way, too. But as she made her way along with Hunter to the front door of the house, David Evans’s words came back to her with full clarity, making Whitney wonder about those two men who’d gotten away earlier.

What if they come after you?

* * *

“I don’t care what you think I should have done,” Dr. William Pennington shouted to the scurrying nurse. “Get the gauze and let’s get this man’s finger sutured so I can get out of here on time for a change.”

“I’ll take care of Mr. Ramsey’s cut,” David told the teary-eyed nurse when she headed toward the supply room. The poor woman had been on her feet for over eight hours now. He’d arrived in town yesterday, and this was the first afternoon he’d volunteered here, but he hadn’t seen any of the three nurses on staff take a real lunch break.

David enjoyed the work and being able to get to know some of the locals, but Whitney had been right. He couldn’t see how anyone on earth would actually want to work for this tyrant of a physician. The man obviously thought he was above managing a run-down clinic in a small town. But he sure didn’t make it easy to work for him, let alone volunteer.

Wondering if Whitney would make good on calling him in to look at mug shots, David hoped she’d been able to ID the two men without his help. He wanted to have another opportunity to talk to her, but not in a busy police station. He’d have to find a way to see her again and tell her that he’d known her brother, Lucas.

“Go ahead. Be my guest,” the nurse whispered as she shoved the supplies into David’s hands. David returned to the present, but the nurse was already leaving. “I’m outta here.”

David watched her grab her purse and head for the back door, thinking his first day here had turned out to be exhausting. The doctor he’d talked to on the phone had seemed wary about someone offering to volunteer in the first place, but he’d also told David he could use the help. But in person, Dr. William Pennington was a harsh leader who barked orders and scared both nurses and patients. He’d guided David through the proper papers to allow him to practice medicine on a temporary volunteer basis, but he sure didn’t seem appreciative of having an experienced volunteer on hand. Maybe he didn’t want the staff to outshine him?

David had caught Dr. Pennington staring at him at odd moments. Maybe the man was territorial. His ego was as big as the whole state of Arizona. He stayed locked in his office between patients and talked in low growls on his cell when he paced up and down the hallway.

David intended to show the good doctor that he didn’t scare that easily. He needed this work to keep him centered. He had a compulsion to help hurting people, a need that obviously stemmed from seeing too much death and destruction.

Or maybe from being the only son of a now deceased highly successful doctor who had been considered a pillar of the community back in East Texas. Could he ever live up to what his father had expected?

He returned to the exam room, where the doctor was fussing at the frazzled man who’d come in with a work-related injury. “You need to be more careful in that garage, Mr. Ramsey. This is the third work-related accident you’ve had in the past year.”

“Couldn’t be helped,” the man said. “Wrench slipped. We’re always backed up and behind. I got in a rush.”

The condescending doctor with the gray-streaked dark hair stared down the grimy mechanic, his rimless glasses giving a clear view of his disapproval. “That doesn’t mean you should get careless. I have my car serviced at Carter’s Garage, you know. I’d hate to file a complaint with your boss because you failed to do your job correctly by being careless.”

“Need some help?” David offered, smiling at the man who sat with a worried frown wrinkling his forehead.

“Where’s Phyllis?” Dr. Pennington asked in a curt, angry tone, his scowl meant for David.

“I told her I’d help you out,” David replied, daring the doctor to say anything. “She never got her lunch break.”

“All of my nurses know to take breaks,” the doctor spouted. “Wait till I see her tomorrow. She also knows not to leave when we still have a patient. And you shouldn’t be giving orders around here.”

“I wasn’t giving orders. I told her I’d help you,” David repeated. “I’m here and I know what to do.”

“Go home, Evans,” the older doctor said, shaking his head as he glanced at David. “I still don’t get why you’re here in the first place.” Grunting, he added, “I have my eye on you.”

“I told you when I called,” David said, preparing a care kit for Mr. Ramsey to take home with him. “I need something to do while I’m visiting, and since this is what I did as a medic, here I am.” He eyed his surroundings, taking in the dents in the walls, the worn linoleum floors and the lack of needed supplies. “And it looks like you can use the help.”

“Never enough time or help around here,” Pennington retorted on a snarl. “And I sure can’t pay you, so I hope you don’t think your time here will count toward a permanent work situation.”

“I’m volunteering,” David reminded him, anger simmering behind his politeness. “I don’t expect pay.”

But he did expect this man and the entire staff to show some respect to the patients. For the most part, the nurses were kind to anyone who came in. But they were so afraid of the doctor who ordered them around with angry comments and nasty expletives that they all had a serious morale problem.

“You must have some sort of motive, or a death wish,” the doctor said to David. He stitched Mr. Ramsey’s numbed finger without regard for the man’s fearful expression. “Who’d purposely come here? Especially after serving for almost a year in Afghanistan.”

David wondered about the doctor’s question later when he was about to lock up the clinic for the day. But before he could bolt the front door of the old ranch-style building that must have once been a family home, the door burst open, and he stood face-to-face with Whitney Godwin. And she was carrying a crying baby girl.

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