by Debra Webb
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 th
at 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.