by Rita Herron
Lamar mumbled something Dex didn’t quite catch. “I’ll talk to the officer about it. And I’ll make sure the ME conducts a thorough autopsy and reports directly back to me.”
“Also, I found out that the vet was divorced. You might want to look into her and see if she was included in Dr. Huckleberry’s will.”
“Dammit, Dex. I don’t need you to tell me how to do my job.” Lamar paused. “Hang on. I have to answer this call.”
The elevator doors opened, and Dex stepped into the hallway, then walked outside.
Lamar returned on the line just as Dex reached the parking lot.
“Listen, Dex, 9-1-1 just received a call from your friend Melissa.” A siren wailed. “I’m headed to her house now.”
Dex bolted for his SUV. “I’ll meet you there.”
He jumped inside his vehicle, started the engine and sped onto the road. He shouldn’t have left Melissa alone. What if someone had gotten to her this time and he lost her for good?
* * *
MELISSA STARED INTO the man’s cold eyes, willing him not to kill her. “Why are you doing this?” she asked. “Why kill me? I don’t even know you.”
His expression darkened, and he tightened his grip on the rifle. He was younger than she’d thought before. Maybe thirties. He looked rough, too, like he hadn’t shaved or had a bath in days. And a knife was sticking out of his pocket.
“If you want money, take whatever I have. It’s not much, but it’s yours.”
He kept the rifle aimed on her, but he quickly scanned the hallway.
“Or if you need help, I’ll help you. I work at a shelter,” she said, hoping to reach him on some level. “I can offer you a bed to sleep in and food, and if you want, I’ll help you find a job.”
He barked a laugh. “Shut up, lady.”
Her head was starting to throb from the blow he’d given her. “I really want to help you,” she said softly. “Please put the gun down.”
The rifle wavered slightly, and she thought he was about to lower it. But a siren wailed outside, then flashing blue lights twirled and danced through the window.
Rage and panic shot through his eyes, and he snatched her arm. A loud pounding echoed from the front door.
Then something slammed against the side of her head. The rifle?
She grasped for control. But pain ricocheted through her temple and she felt herself falling into the darkness.
Chapter Fifteen
Dex sped onto the highway and wove through traffic. Although it was nearly 11:00 p.m., locals and tourists were still leaving restaurants and bars. The music scene in Austin drew crowds and fueled the economy. He had his favorite haunts, too.
He’d like to take Melissa to them sometime.
Fear for her made sweat break out on his forehead, and he pressed the accelerator and maneuvered past cars, then turned down a side street to avoid more congestion.
Lamar was on his way to Melissa’s. She’d managed to call 9-1-1. Hopefully that was a good sign.
It had to be. The thought of anything bad happening to her felt like a knife tearing into his gut.
He whipped the SUV toward Melissa’s street, his pulse hammering at the sight of the police car. Lamar had beaten him here.
He swerved into the drive, scanning the property for trouble in case Lamar needed help. He quickly checked his weapon, but kept it tucked into his belt as he slid from his vehicle and approached the house.
The front door was closed, a light burning from the back of the house. Praying Melissa was safe, he hurried toward the rear side door. It stood ajar, a thin stream of light glowing from the interior.
He inhaled sharply and crept up the stairs, still alert in case Lamar had walked into an ambush and needed backup. He paused at the door to listen for voices or signs of violence, but inside it was quiet.
Too quiet.
With one hand on his weapon, ready to pull it, he inched forward, then peered through the open doorway. A creak of the floor made him hesitate, then suddenly the barrel of a gun appeared in his face.
A second later, Lamar whirled in front of him.
“Whoa, it’s me,” Dex growled.
Lamar cursed and lowered the gun, his face half hidden in the shadows. “Hell, Dex, you just about got yourself shot.”
“I thought you might need help,” Dex snapped.
“Sorry.” Lamar wiped a hand over his face. “Didn’t hear you.”
“Where is she? Is she okay?” He didn’t wait for a response. He pushed past Lamar to look inside and halted.
A rifle on the floor. Blood splattered on the wall. Melissa’s?
Please, God, no.
He inched forward. A look to the left. A man’s body was sprawled on the floor, blood pooling beneath his chest, his eyes wide and vacant.
“I got the bastard,” Lamar said.
“What about Melissa?”
Lamar gestured toward the right.
Melissa lay on the floor, too, blood seeping from her forehead.
“I called an ambulance,” Lamar said.
Dex barely heard Lamar. His heart was hammering so loud the blood was roaring in his ears.
He crossed to Melissa and knelt beside her, then checked for a pulse. He held his breath, waiting. Praying.
Finally he felt it.
She was alive.
For a second, he dropped his head forward and said a prayer of thanks. Swallowing against the emotions clogging his throat, he gently stroked a strand of blood-tinged hair from her cheek. “You’re going to be okay, darlin’.”
He lifted her head and pulled her in his lap and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Hang in there. I’m going to take care of you. No one is going to hurt you again.”
He hugged her, clinging to her as if she might die if he let go.
Finally, the sound of a siren. The ambulance arriving.
He cut Lamar a look and saw his friend watching him with interest. Typically he didn’t wear his emotions on his sleeve. He’d learned to silence them, banish them around other people. Look cold. Hard. Tough.
He couldn’t help himself now. He was terrified.
And for the first time in his life, he didn’t care if anyone saw it. “What happened?” he asked.
“She was unconscious when I arrived,” Lamar said. “Bastard was standing over her with a gun. He fired at me, but I hit him first.”
Dex nodded. “Thanks. I owe you.”
Lamar’s gaze met his, dark and troubled. “Just doing my job.”
Maybe so. But he’d saved Melissa tonight. Dex would forever be indebted to him for that.
* * *
MELISSA FELT AS if she was floating in an endless sea of black. Something hard was hammering at her skull, beating at her to stay down. To give up and let the emptiness swallow her so the pain would stop.
Instinct whispered for her to fight. She had something important to do. Someone to see. A life to live. Dreams to follow.
All the things she’d never had awaited. She reached out her hand and tried to latch onto them, but they slipped between her fingertips and floated away like dust in the wind.
Voices echoed from the distance. Far away, but occasionally a word sifted through. A familiar gruff voice murmuring her name.
“Melissa, come back to me, darlin’.”
Darlin’? Who called her darlin’?
She blinked, desperate to see the man. His tone sounded worried. Tender. Almost loving.
She wanted to be loved so badly. Her mother hadn’t loved her enough to stick around. And then her daddy hadn’t, either...
A warm hand brushed her cheek. Masculine fingers. A touch that made her struggle harder, drawing her back toward the light.
“Melissa, darlin’, you’re going to be okay. The paramedics are here.”
Paramedics?
She must be hurt. Was she in an accident?
Memories tugged at her mind. What had happened? She’d come home, she was asleep. Was dreaming. Then the noise. Someone breaking in.
Her heart jumped to her throat, and she trembled.
“Shh, I’ve got you.”
The male voice, so soothing. Comforting. Then big arms pulled her up against a broad chest. Hard but safe.
She blinked, determined to see his face. To tell him not to leave. That she liked his arms around her and his voice in her ear.
More voices. Footsteps. A door shutting. The man’s arms slipped away.
She cried out for him not to leave. She was scared, although she didn’t know of what. Dying?
Or of the man who’d broken in? Yes, a man. He’d grabbed her, thrown her against the wall. He aimed the rifle at her.
He was going to shoot her.
She screamed, her body jerking as she opened her eyes.
The gun was gone. The man was, too.
Dex was holding her, whispering her name. A tear slid down her cheek. “Don’t leave me,” she managed in a raspy whisper.
“I won’t,” he said in a husky voice. “I’ll be right beside you.”
But he released her, and two men lifted her onto a stretcher. She closed her eyes, the darkness drowning out the light again.
* * *
DEX BREATHED A sigh of relief that Melissa’s vitals were stable. She might have a slight concussion and needed a couple of stitches on her forehead at her hairline, but she would be all right.
He’d been so damn grateful when she’d opened her eyes and looked at him that he’d nearly cried like a baby.
A sarcastic chuckle rumbled inside him. Lamar would have liked that. He’d always teased Dex about women, said when Dex fell, he’d fall hard.
Dex had laughed and blown off the comment. He’d insisted that would never happen to him.
But Lamar might be right. Melissa might be the one to do him in.
“I’ll be right behind you and meet you at the hospital,” he whispered to her as the medics secured her in the ambulance and closed the door.
Lamar had been taking pictures of the crime scene and body. Dr. Hudson, the ME from Austin, arrived on the heels of the ambulance, and joined Lamar.
Dex studied the dead man. “Does he have ID?”
Lamar checked the man’s pockets. “Nothing in the shirt pockets.” He checked his jeans. “Nothing there, either.”
“I didn’t see a car outside,” Dex said. “How the hell did the bastard get here?”
Lamar worked his mouth from side to side as if contemplating the question. “Probably parked on another street and snuck in on foot.”
True. The alleys connected side streets and offered hiding places for all kinds of nefarious activities.
Dex scanned the hallway and space around the body. “Did you find a phone?”
Lamar patted the man’s clothing, then lifted the body slightly to check beneath him. A shake of his head indicated no phone, either.
Who the hell traveled without ID these days? Maybe another homeless person? But why attack Melissa?
“No drugs on him, either, but he could have been looking for cash or valuables to steal and sell,” Lamar suggested.
That was a possibility, especially in Melissa’s neighborhood. But why did he sense the break-in was connected to the case he was working?
Dex glanced at the ME. “Doc, what killed the bastard in the hospital?”
Dr. Hudson’s brows furrowed. “He was just transported to the morgue. I haven’t had time to perform the autopsy yet.”
The poor doc must be working overtime these days.
The ME knelt by the dead man, speaking low into a mic attached to a recorder as he examined the body.
Dex was still trying to piece together what had happened tonight. “Melissa was unconscious when you arrived, Lamar?”
“Yeah, I told you that. The intruder turned the rifle on me. I had no choice but to shoot him.”
Lamar snapped a picture of the rifle. “This belong to your friend?”
Dex shook his head. “I gave it to her for protection.”
“Good God, Dex. You know people who aren’t experienced with guns often get killed by having the weapon turned against them.”
Dex nodded. But the thought of Melissa being unarmed seemed even more dangerous. “Look where she lives, man. She’s nearly been killed twice this week. She needed protection.”
Lamar shook his head as if he still didn’t approve.
“What about him?” Dex asked. “Was he armed?”
Lamar lifted a bag containing a hunter’s knife. An image of the man holding that to Melissa’s throat sent a chill through him. The jerk could have slit her throat in seconds.
Dr. Hudson rolled the body to the side and shined a small flashlight on his back. “One bullet to the chest. No exit wound. Bled out.”
Lamar indicated his service revolver. “My weapon. The bullet will match. It’ll all be in the report.”
A knock sounded at the door, and one of the crime workers poked his head in. “Sergeant Eames and Officer Rafferty reporting.”
Lamar met them at the door and explained the scene. The investigators booted up and entered. Officer Rafferty headed to the bedrooms to search for evidence, although judging from the broken glass in the window, the man had entered through the back doorway and Melissa had met him in the hallway. Scuff marks and blood marred the floor and walls leading toward the living room, but the fight had ended in the hallway.
“I’m going to the hospital to check on Melissa,” Dex said.
He didn’t want her to wake up and be alone.
Maybe the guy who’d attacked her had said something before he’d knocked her out. Something that would reveal his motive.
And if he was working for someone, maybe he’d given her a name.
* * *
MELISSA SLOWLY MADE her way back to reality. The doctor at the ER examined her and stitched her head. Two stitches. It wouldn’t leave much of a scar.
Not that she cared that much about a little scar. She’d almost died.
She gripped the sheet as the nurse left the room. A second later, Dex walked in, his face a mask of anger. But his look softened as he approached her.
“Melissa?”
“I’m okay,” she said softly. “I just want to get out of here.”
“The doctor said you might have a concussion. You should stay the night for observation.”
Tears filled her eyes. She hated hospitals, had seen too many sad stories of people from shelters who went in and never came out. “Please just take me home.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “You’re not going back to your house tonight. If the doctor releases you, I’ll take you to Hawk’s Landing.”
Melissa had heard about the ranch from Dexter years ago. And then the stories in the press. She’d even seen pictures Dex had shown her. It was a beautiful place.
And his mother had turned it into a refuge for girls in trouble.
Dex traced a finger along her hand, his breathing ragged. “I know you probably don’t want to talk about it right now. But I need you to tell me what happened tonight.”
Emotions crowded her chest as memories of the night returned.
“This man, he broke in,” she said in a low whisper. “What happened to him?”
“Lamar shot him. He said he found him with my rifle aimed at you.” His voice cracked. “He saved your life, Melissa.”
So now she was beholden to the detective.
But images of the man threatening to kill her returned. Then the look in his eyes when she’d pleaded for her life.
For a moment, she’d thought he intended to put down the gun. Leave her alone. Run.
But then...the siren. And he’d hit her and she’d blacked out.
After that, she had no idea what had happened.
Dex leaned forward, his thumb brushing the bandage where the doctor had stitched her up. “Did he say anything before he knocked you unconscious? Was he looking for money? Drugs?”
“No,” she whispered. “I offered him money, but he told me to be quiet. I tried to persuade him to let me help him. Then the siren wailed and he...maybe he panicked. That’s when he hit me.”
Dex’s gaze locked with hers. “I’m sorry. I should have been with you.”
“It wasn’t your fault, Dex.”
“Maybe it was. I’m the one asking questions. If I hadn’t been hauling you all over the place with me, you’d be safe.”
She hated the guilt in Dex’s voice. He didn’t deserve that.
She reached for his hand, determined to reassure him. “Please get me out of here. Then we can talk.”
She’d do everything possible to convince him that he had nothing to feel guilty about.
When she’d been on the brink of death, thinking of him had given her a reason to live.
Chapter Sixteen
Melissa’s head throbbed as Dex drove, but she was so grateful to be leaving the hospital that she dared not complain, or Dex would have her admitted. Still, she closed her eyes and rested, although it was difficult to rest with the attack still fresh in her mind.
A half hour later, Dex passed under a sign for Hawk’s Landing. She studied the property through the window. Moonlight glinted off the fields and pastures, the acres rolling out in an endless sea of green.
“This is beautiful,” she murmured. “I can’t imagine growing up with all this open space.”
“It was pretty amazing,” Dex said. “Until Chrissy disappeared.”
That terrible event had marked his life.
He gestured toward a big farmhouse. “That’s the main house where Mom lives with the foster girls.”
“It’s lovely,” she said. “It looks homey.”
“Mom has made it that way.” Dex pointed out the horse stables, barns and cabins on the property. “Harrison and Honey live in that one,” he said. “Honey helped design their house. She also worked with Charlotte and Lucas to design theirs and recently helped Brayden and his wife, Mila, build.”