The Sheriff's Secret. Julie Lindsey Anne
He’d been the first man to show her they didn’t all become monsters when the mood struck. West was as sensible as the day was long and a Garrett through and through. Hell-bent on saving the world. Garretts were soldiers and law enforcement officers. If rumor served, one of West’s brothers was a federal agent and the other was a US marshal.
The cruiser took a slow turn into her neighborhood and stopped at the first crossroads. The rain had stopped, and muted sunlight streamed from behind thick gray clouds. Emerald green lawns stretched before them, lined in newly blooming mums and anchored in elaborate pumpkin arrangements showing off for Halloween. Lily was too small to know, but she was going to be a princess this year. Every year, if Tina had any say in it.
River Park had been an up-and-coming neighborhood when Tina was young. She’d stared through dirty school bus windows for years as classmates poured on and off with clean clothes and new shoes every fall, and she’d dreamed of living there. Now, the homes were older and in her price range as long as she budgeted. Lily would have safe streets to ride her bike on and neighbors who knew her name. Maybe even a few folks who cared where she went and who she was with.
“Here?” West asked at the next intersection.
“Two blocks up, on the left. The white farmhouse.”
West accelerated to the posted speed limit. “I think you should see a doctor before we go to the station.”
“No.” She watched her unsuspecting neighborhood crawl past. Did the neighbors have any idea what had happened today? Was it on the news? Steven was dead. Pointlessly murdered by a coward with a gun. How did a community move on from that?
“I’ll swing by the hospital on our way to the station. Better to be safe.”
“No,” she repeated, a little more forcefully this time. “I wasn’t hurt, just shaken, and every minute counts right now. I want to be helpful.”
West huffed, but didn’t argue.
“Here. This one,” Tina said as her little home came into view, all country with a wraparound porch and a tree in the front. “I won’t be more than five minutes.”
Confusion pinched her brow as Ducky, her golden retriever pup, jogged toward the car, tail flopping.
“You know that guy?” West asked, watching the happy dog outside his window.
“He’s mine,” Tina whispered, “but I left him in his crate when I went to work this morning.” Her heart jammed into her throat, making it impossible to swallow. “Someone let him out.”
* * *
THE CRUISER JERKED to a rocking stop. West was on his feet and striding toward her home a moment later. He notified Dispatch of a possible break-in, then unholstered his sidearm. A break-in and a shooting involving the same woman on the same morning wasn’t a coincidence.
Tina was on his heels, teeth chattering intensely behind him.
He stopped her at the front door. “Wait in the car. Lock the doors.”
“I can’t.”
The terror in her voice tugged his heart, and West weighed his options. Taking her along could be dangerous. Leaving her alone could be deadly. He turned the knob, and her door opened. “Stay behind me.”
Her small fingers slid against the material over his back, and he hated the pleasure it gave him to be near her again.
Inside, the house was silent and spotless. “Cade County Sheriff,” West announced, edging past about a hundred pairs of shoes by the front door.
“Woof!” Ducky called from Tina’s side.
West reached around Tina and let the dog in.
Ducky barreled through the house, barking and protesting. He slid around a corner and out of sight.
West motioned for Tina to wait as he followed Ducky down a short hallway toward the back of the home. The dog stopped in the mudroom, pawing and barking at a narrow closet door.
“Cade County Sheriff,” West announced again, stepping carefully into the small room. He moved into position, gun drawn and faced off with the door. “Come out with your hands up.”
A blinding pain split the back of his head and loosened his grip on the weapon. Flashes of light splintered his vision. His knees buckled and he tumbled forward against his will. One palm landed against the floor in support.
The back door swung wide and a figure dressed in black bolted into the yard.
“Damn it.” West shoved onto his feet and forced himself through the door. He slid in the wet grass on uncooperative legs. “Freeze!” he hollered.
A fresh blast of pain punched through his skull at the sound of his booming voice. He pressed one hand to the back of his head and groaned. The goose egg was already forming, and his palm slid against something warm and slick. A quick look confirmed the substance as his blood.
West angled between the next set of homes, hoping to get a glimpse of the getaway car or a look at the man’s face. The figure had doubled the distance between them, clearing the next hill and vanishing before West could manage to gain any speed.
West holstered his sidearm and radioed Dispatch. “Suspect is fleeing on foot, moving southwest toward Main from River Park Estates.” He’d be lucky if a deputy was anywhere near his location. The Cade County Sheriff’s Department was small, just six including himself, and not everyone was on duty. Those who were had their hands full with the shooting.
He paused to curse and allow his vision to clear. What the hell had he been hit with? And what was the dog barking at if not the intruder?
West climbed the steps to Tina’s front porch slowly and with a little effort. “He got away,” he said, sliding inside and forcing his posture straighter. “Got any ice?” He scanned the empty living room. “Tina?”
Ducky jumped at his feet, a leash in his mouth. “Now you want to go out?” He sidestepped Ducky and fought an irrational wave of fear. “Tina?”
“West.” Her trembling voice sent him in the direction of her kitchen.
He cut through the living room, taking in as many details as possible. Everything smelled like Tina. Vanilla and cinnamon, warm and inviting. There wasn’t much in the way of furniture, but the baby seemed to have more than any one child could ever need. Infant seats, swings and play sets dotted every inch of space he passed, accompanied by a barrel of stuffed animals in the living area.
Tina stood alone in the kitchen’s center. The table had been set for two, complete with hot pads in the middle, as if standing in anticipation of a meal yet to come. She shook her head, clearly baffled. “I didn’t do this.”
West’s muscles tightened. “Don’t touch anything.” He dialed Cole as an icy swell of fear rose through him. West knew exactly the kind of person who’d break into a woman’s home and stage a scene like this. A dangerous one. Maybe even someone capable of shooting a man right in front of her just to get her attention. He turned away from Tina as he relayed the situation to his brother. The pain in his head grew by the second. West checked again to see if the blood flow had slowed.
Tina gathered ice into a dish towel and pushed it his way.
He gave her a sour face, but accepted the offer. “This is the opposite of not touching anything.”
“Yeah, well, you’re hurt,” she said. “Don’t bleed on my carpet.” The attempt at levity was lost with the crack in her voice.
Tina was scared, and West needed to fix that.
He cleared the rest of the house, room by room, then took a break to let the ice do its work. “Any idea who’d pretend to make you dinner?” He winced as the towel slid against his hair.
“None.”
“Are you seeing anyone?”
“No.”