Heavy banks of fog drifted off the lake and rolled across the cement, as if alive and breathing. Damp and irritated from the mist, Russ stood in the parking lot next to Garber, waiting for him to conclude his call with the sheriff’s department.
On a good day, waiting around got on Russ’s nerves, but tonight it left him with too much time to think about Sydney’s wounded expression. Something that was definitely not in his best interest.
Garber clapped his phone closed and turned to Russ. “Not good news. This fog has the sheriff’s department swamped. They’re investigating a hit-and-run on the south side of the county and using their only set of lights. We won’t get them until they finish.”
“Any idea of time?”
“Could be a few hours or not at all if they have another problem,” Garber replied.
“No sense in all of us standing around. Call Dixon’s landlord back. Tell him I’m on my way to the house and to meet me there. Call me when the lights arrive or if anything else develops.”
Heading in Sydney’s direction, he saw her sitting on the bumper of a silent ambulance, its red light swirling through the fog in an eerie dance. She’d washed the blood from her hands and pulled her hair into a ponytail, which emphasized the angry gash on her head, now swollen to a massive purple lump. At least the bleeding had subsided, thanks to EMT Lisa Watson, who’d applied a neat row of butterfly bandages.
“That’ll do for now.” Lisa pressed her finger on the bottom bandage.
Sydney winced, then forced a laugh. “Will I live?”
“Looks worse than it is. I closed the wound, but it could still scar. You might want to have a doctor take a look at it.”
“Or not. But thanks, Lisa.” Sydney smiled up at Lisa, a genuine, warm smile like the one she’d radiated up at Russ as a teen, almost overpowering his common sense in sending her away.
He shook off the thought. He was here to do a job. Catch a killer. Not let the cute dimples or generous smattering of freckles dotted across high cheekbones distract him.
He stepped into his professional mode and approached the pair. “So Deputy Tucker’s good to go, then?”
Lisa nodded. “She’ll be fine with some rest and over-the-counter pain relievers.”
“Then if you’ll excuse us, I need to have a word with her.”
“I’ll be taking off,” Lisa said to Sydney. “I’m off duty in an hour or so, but you can call me any time tonight if you need something.”
“Thanks again, Lisa.” Sydney shoved off the bumper, grimacing on the way up.
He nodded at the jagged slit in her pant leg, darkened with blood. “Looks like your forehead isn’t your worst problem.”
“I’ll ice my knee when I get home. It’ll be fine.” She turned her gaze to the officers at the base of the path. “Any leads?”
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. We’re waiting on your department to deliver lights, so I’m heading over to Dixon’s place and wanted you to accompany me.”
“Me?” Her eyes widened.
He laughed. “Don’t sound so surprised.”
“You have to admit it’s not common practice to ask for a rookie’s help.”
“Normally I wouldn’t, especially when you’re the closest thing we have to a witness on this case, but I’m hoping a trip to Dixon’s house will jog your memory and give us a lead.” Before she could ask another question, he held his hand toward the road. “My cruiser’s over there.”
Though her gaze still held questions, she started toward his car. He heard her groan in pain, but kept his mouth shut. The less he said about her injuries, the less likely he would make a comment that she misunderstood. For the same reason, he didn’t open the passenger door for her as he would in a social situation, just climbed behind the wheel. When she settled into the other seat, he eased onto the road.
Pulling out her seat belt, she suddenly let it go. “My gun. It’s still in my car.”
“Relax. You won’t need it at Dixon’s house.”
Sighing, she retrieved the belt. “You must think I’m hopeless at this job.”
He could hear the despondency and self-recrimination in her voice. She had to find a way to deal with the guilt. Not the way he had, with a stiff drink, but by talking and working through it.
He gave her what he hoped was a comforting smile. “Good officers aren’t born, Syd. They learn through experience.”
“But you’d never leave your gun in the car.”
“No, you’re right. But I might’ve as a rookie. All you can do is learn from tonight and adjust accordingly.” Trying not to feel so much like a hypocrite by telling her one thing and still letting Willie’s death get to him, he eased through light traffic.
“Not that this is an excuse.” She shifted to face him. “But I like to do something positive on my way home to help relieve the stresses of the day. Part of that is leaving my duty belt behind. It’s like taking off the weight of the belt helps remove the weight of the job.”
He didn’t know what to say that he hadn’t already said, other than telling her about Willie. And for the first time in years, he wanted to tell someone.
He opened his mouth, but the words didn’t come. Other than his partner, he’d never talked with another LEO about Willie. They’d have told him to let it go. That he wasn’t at fault. A second search wasn’t protocol. But Russ learned early in the job to take extra precautions. He just didn’t follow his instincts that particular day. And it still haunted him.
So much so he still couldn’t talk about it, so he focused on his driving, taking the shortest route to Dixon’s house. Making the final turn, he caught sight of Sydney’s questioning gaze.
“What?” he asked, hoping she hadn’t been watching him battle warring emotions.
“What do you do to let go of a bad day?”
He shrugged. “My biggest problems are often bureaucracy or the budget. Not finding a killer.”
“So what about tonight? When you get home, how are you gonna let this go?”
“I haven’t had to deal with real stress since leaving Portland, so I don’t really know.” And he hadn’t had to deal with it since he put his drinking days behind him. So what would he do tonight?
“So why’d you leave, anyway?”
Searching for the right address, he slowed. “You’re full of questions.”
“I’m just trying to learn how to handle the job, Russ. It’s different from what I thought it would be. Especially tonight.” She rubbed a hand over her eyes. “I know we’re told to expect to see people die in car crashes, but I honestly never thought I’d see someone gunned down.”
This experience could make her walk away from the job. A job she excelled at, from what he’d heard through the grapevine. She was known for being patient. Understanding. Intuitive. Sure, she’d panicked tonight, but law enforcement would lose out if a rookie with her promise quit. Hopefully, he could help restore her confidence during the investigation.
He tipped his head out the window. “That Dixon’s house, with the big porch?”
“Yeah, that’s it.” She peered out the window. “I can’t see how this visit will help. Nothing much happened here. It was a simple drug bust.”
“Try to let go of that notion or you might block anything that could help us.” He slid into a parking space.
He climbed out and a feeling of unease settled over him.
The wind howled through trees, whipping the fine mist into his face. He looked at Dixon’s house. Surveyed the ragged shrubs. The dark porch. Saw nothing out of the ordinary. Searched the street, peering into the deep shadows running the length of the house.
“What is it?” Sydney asked coming up behind him and startling him.
“Nothing.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Then why are you so jumpy?”
“I have the feeling our suspect is watching us.”
He saw a fresh wave of fear grip her face and instantly wanted to take back his words. But maybe scaring her a bit wasn’t a bad thing. If it didn’t paralyze her like earlier tonight, and made her more vigilant, a little fear was just what she needed to stay one step ahead of their killer.
Russ’s concern upping hers, Sydney looked across the street at the small white bungalow illuminated under a streetlight. The fog swirling around the lake hadn’t arrived in town. She could clearly see white paint rising in papery peels on old clapboard siding. The stirring breeze moved overgrown grass and carried the flakes into the air, depositing them like snow on the unkempt yard.
A yard that was as overgrown as when she’d arrested Dixon three days ago.
Only three days.
Seemed like a lifetime ago. Maybe in another world. A world before the roller coaster of emotions that raced through her heart tonight. Up. Down. Around. One minute she was fine. The next nearing panic and letting guilt threaten to swamp her with tears. But she wouldn’t cry in front of Russ. Even if he seemed to understand what she was going through.
He nodded at the house. “Since Mr. Becker’s not here with the key yet, we can run through Dixon’s arrest. Where were you when you saw the deal go down?”
“Behind a big pine at the edge of those woods.” She pointed across the street. “I had to work in a few hours and didn’t want Dixon to see my cruiser, so I left it a few blocks away and walked over here.”
“So then you had a clear view of the house. What time of day was it?”
“Around three.”
“Good. Daylight. Easy to see something that at first glance didn’t seem important. Take me through the arrest.”
“When I arrived, I could tell a party was going on from the noise. About an hour later, Nikki’s old friend Julia came walking down the street from the east. I knew she had a drug problem, so I figured she was here to get her next fix from Dixon.” Sydney shook her head. “You should’ve seen her, Russ. She was such a mess. I hated to arrest her, but she wasn’t the sweet kid I used to know anymore. She’s in rehab right now. I sure hope it sticks.”
“The arrest might be just what she needed to kick the addiction.” He offered her a reassuring smile.
She hoped he was right, but her gut said Julia had a long road ahead of her.
“So what happened next?” he asked.
“Julia knocks on the door, and Dixon comes out. She exchanges cash for a baggie. I call it in to dispatch, then head across the street, slap the cuffs on Dixon and convince Julia not to run. Then we wait for backup and round up the partygoers for possession.”
“So no one fled the scene?”
“Not really. There was a girl standing by a motorcycle a few cars down who walked away when I came up, but I’m not sure she was involved.”
His face lit up. “A motorcycle? Can you describe it?”
“I can do better than that. While I was watching the house, I snapped a few pictures of the area. I know I got a shot of the bike.”
“Maybe our killer knows about the pictures and there’s something in them that could incriminate him.” His tone rose with interest.
She dug out her cell and thumbed through the pictures. Russ moved behind her, and she felt his breath whisper over her neck, below her ponytail. She had to fight to concentrate on the images. He lifted her hand closer to his face. The warmth of his hand covering hers almost made her turn to see if the touch affected him, too. But he stabbed a finger at the current picture and she knew his focus remained on the case.
“That looks like the bike our suspect took off on tonight. Can’t make out the plate, but if we enlarge it we might hit pay dirt.” He let go of her hand. “Officer Garber is a motorcycle enthusiast. He might see something in this picture that we don’t.”
An older-model car with a rumbling muffler chugged down the street emitting waves of smoke and pulling up in front of the house.
“That’s Mr. Becker,” Russ said. “Time to check out the house.”
Russ greeted the older man whose face held enormous respect for Russ. Locals appreciated his experience, diplomacy and the way he kept the department operating so efficiently.
Thinking about what she’d heard around town about Russ, Sydney watched as he talked with Mr. Becker.
Everyone in town knew Russ was divorced with a young son who spent occasional weekends with him. Especially the single women who thought they could crack his hard shell and win the man who seemed to need no one. But other than that, no other rumors had spread about the ten or so years he’d been gone from Logan Lake. She hadn’t really wondered about him, but tonight she wished she knew a little more about him.
Shaking Mr. Becker’s hand through the open window, Russ caught her watching him. She wanted to look away, but his gaze met hers. He’d only smirk if she suddenly averted her eyes. So she kept them firmly fixed to his and was surprised when he responded by staring deeply into her eyes as if searching for something.
But as Mr. Becker handed Russ the key, he broke eye contact. He promised to lock up and return the key, then waited for Mr. Becker to drive off before heading her way.
Wondering what that look had been about, she waited for him to pass and climbed the stairs behind him. On the porch, memories from the arrest floated up, replacing her thoughts of Russ.
With gloved hands, he turned the key in the lock. She accompanied him into the house. As she looked around, she snapped on gloves.
“Look the same as when you arrested him?” Russ asked.
“Minus the beer cans and rowdy friends, yes.”
“You arrest these friends?”
“Yeah, we found lines of coke on the table, so we hauled them all in.”
He crossed to the desk, drew open a drawer. “We’ll need to question them. I’ll want a copy of your arrest report first thing in the morning.”
Sydney nodded, though it would have to be second thing in the morning. Her sergeant would want to blast her first for leaving her gun in the car.
She saw a cord trailing from an outlet and found a charger holding a phone hidden under a table. “Odd place to charge a phone,” she said, dropping down to her knees.
“We didn’t find a cell on the body so I was hoping it’d be here.” Russ’s tone was the most optimistic she’d heard all night. He tossed her a plastic evidence bag. “Bag it.”
She settled the phone into the bag. As she laid it on the table, it chimed a text.
“There’s no way I’m ignoring that.” Through the bag, she fiddled with buttons until it unlocked. “It’s from someone Dixon has labeled as Boss.”
“Read it to me.”
She opened the message.
Good evening, Deputy Tucker. This isn’t over. I want what you took from this house. I will get it back even if someone else gets hurt in the process.
Her mouth fell open, and she stared at the screen.
What was he talking about? She didn’t take anything from this house.
And how did he know she was here and would answer Dixon’s phone?
Had he followed them? Was he outside now…watching?
“What’s it say, Syd?”
She heard Russ’s voice but couldn’t quit staring at the screen or form the words to tell him about the message. Their theory had been right. The killer did want something from her.
But what, she had no clue. She felt powerless.
Russ crossed the space and dropped down next to her.
“Let me see.” His voice was soft, reassuring, but didn’t melt the ice forming around her heart.
He tried to take the phone. Her fingers clamped around it like a vise. She couldn’t seem to let go. He turned her hand. She heard him draw in a quick breath before jumping to his feet.
“Stay here,” he commanded and raced to the door. Gun in hand, he eased onto the porch, pulling the door closed behind him.
He needn’t have told her to stay put. Without her gun, she wasn’t moving a muscle. Especially not to go outside. The killer was likely hanging in the shadows of the trees. A mere shadow himself. Watching through the misty rain. Biding his time. Hoping to strike again.
Wait. The text said if someone got hurt in the process. He didn’t say if she got hurt. Did that mean he’d hurt people she cared about instead? Maybe even Russ?
She dropped the phone and flew to the window. Searched up and down the street. Not seeing Russ, she opened the door. Poked her head out. She heard footfalls at the side of the house.
Was it Russ or the killer? Should she stay out here or go inside?
She scanned the area, her mind churning with indecision. The footfalls grew closer. She slipped back inside the doorway but kept the door open a crack. A hand holding a gun cleared the side of the house. She glimpsed a deep navy sleeve covering the arm. Russ?
She held her breath. Waited.
Russ emerged from the shadows, his profile strong and solid. She whooshed out the breath. Dragged a fresh one into her lungs.
He spun and fixed his gun on her. He hissed out a breath. “Go inside and close the door, Syd.”
Sirens split the air. Red lights twirled in the distance, coming closer. Knowing backup was moments away and their killer wouldn’t try anything with several officers on the scene, she took cover in the house.
“Lord, please protect Russ,” she cried out, and settled on the floor with the phone.
Hoping it was a bad dream, she looked at the message again. But there it was right in front of her. His warning. That this wasn’t over and might not end before someone else died at the hands of a madman.