Physical Evidence

“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 that 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.

He twisted the knob on his front door with a vengeance, and shoved it inward. There was no excuse for it. He’d acted like a fool. Stepping inside, he flipped the switch and flooded the long entry hall with light. He closed the door behind him and released a sigh of relief. In spite of the hellish day he’d had, and the still missing woman who made him seriously restless, he was glad to be home. It was late and he was spent. Things would have to look better in the morning.

Tossing his keys onto a nearby table, Mitch made his way down the hall toward his bedroom, shucking off his boots en route. Hopping on one foot and then the other, he peeled off his socks and tossed them aside. Fingers clumsy with exhaustion plucked at his buttons until he’d managed to undo the last one and pull his shirt from his waistband. As he reached his room, he started to shrug off his shoulder holster, but hesitated when a barely audible sound touched his ears.

He froze.

It came again…a whispered sigh or soft moan.

He cocked his head and listened intently as he slipped his weapon from its holster. His bare feet moved silently over the uncarpeted hardwood floor, instinctively avoiding the areas that creaked with age.

The word no, heavy with fear and denial, echoed…the disembodied voice closer this time. He paused at the door to his living room and listened again. Pure anguish, low and agonizing, reached out to him from the darkness with the next muffled sound. His heart beat faster as he leveled his weapon in that direction. Mitch eased into the room and hit the light switch. A pool of pale yellow glowed from a table lamp at the end of his sofa. His gaze moved beyond the table and the arm of the sofa to…

Alex.

Instantly, a shoulderload of Mitch’s tension lifted. He reholstered his weapon. She lay on the old plaid sofa, tossing and turning, fighting some unseen demon in her sleep. The hospital gown and lab coat she wore over it had worked up her thighs, exposing long, shapely legs.

Moving closer, Mitch listened intently to make out her mumbled words but couldn’t. Should he wake her? Maybe her dreams would help her remember. She whimpered in fear, and, unable to restrain himself, he crouched next to the sofa and shook her gently. She woke instantly, jerking upright and throwing her hands out in front of her in a defensive maneuver.

“Just take it easy,” he soothed, clasping her forearms to keep her seated.

Her face was pale and her hair was mussed. The white bandage on her forehead stood out in stark relief against the dark tresses. She trembled visibly beneath his scrutiny. “It’s okay,” he assured her again. He noticed then that her knees were badly scraped—something new added to her list of injuries. But it was the fear and confusion in her eyes that made his gut clench.

“I didn’t know where else to go,” she told him, her voice shaky. She drew in a sharp breath as if suddenly remembering something she’d rather not. “I tried to stop him, but it was too late.” She closed her eyes. “There was nothing I could do.”

“I need to get you back to the hospital,” Mitch suggested, fighting the urge to hold her.

Definitely the wrong thing to say.

With a good deal more strength than he would have imagined her capable, she shot to her feet, he came up with her.

“Don’t take me back there. He’ll find me!” She shook her head, her eyes wide with renewed fear. “He’ll kill me!”

Mitch tightened his hold on her when she tried to pull away. “All right, we’ll stay here for the time being. Just calm down.” He wanted to ask who he was, but opted to do that later. “You need to relax.”

She nodded stiffly. “As long as you promise you won’t take me back there.” Her expression clouded with too many emotions to read.

Blood, Saylor’s blood, was smeared on the front of her gown and dried on her hands. She began to shake so hard that Mitch could no longer deny his need, he pulled her closer, to somehow comfort her…even when he knew he shouldn’t.

“It’s all right.” He patted her back as she started to cry softly against his chest. Her damp cheek felt warm against his bare skin. His arms tightened around her of their own volition, and Mitch closed his eyes in a futile attempt to ignore the mistake he was making.

He wasn’t sure how long he stood that way, holding her close and whispering soothing sounds in her ear, but eventually reality dragged him to his senses.

Alex Preston was a suspect and the only witness he had to a murder, making this behavior completely unprofessional. He’d already been fooled once.

Mitch drew back, prying the clinging woman from his chest in the process. Her arms folded around her waist, hugging herself as her body quaked uncontrollably. He doubted she’d eaten anything all day. He had to get her comfortable and evaluate her condition further before he could question her. And then he’d have to call Ashton, but Mitch had every intention of putting that off for as long as possible.

“I’ll tell you what, let’s get you cleaned up and find something to eat. Then we’ll straighten all this out. What do you say?”

She swiped at her eyes with the backs of her hands and nodded weakly. “Thank you.”

He clenched his jaw against the protective feelings surging inside him. He couldn’t say she was welcome. Hell, he shouldn’t be doing this. Mitch took her by the arm and led her to the hall bathroom. “Wash your hands and face,” he instructed, “and I’ll get you some clothes.”

She obeyed without question. She definitely wasn’t herself. He might not know her well, but he knew that much. The Alex Preston he’d argued with was strong and self-reliant, not the submissive type at all.

Mitch hurried to his room and rounded up a T-shirt and a pair of running shorts that tied at the waist. Right now wasn’t the time to analyze why he hadn’t already called in and reported finding her to the dispatcher, or the reason she’d chosen his house in which to take refuge. Chief Lowden would be annoyed that Mitch hadn’t called him right away. But he had questions for Alex first. Questions that couldn’t wait.

At least that was what he kept telling himself to justify putting off what he knew he should do. He paused outside the bathroom door. “This is the best I could do.” He offered Alex the clothes. “There’s a tube of antibiotic cream in the medicine cabinet for your knees.”

Her hands not shaking quite so badly now, she accepted the items and managed a faint smile. “Thank you. This hospital getup is the pits.” She shrugged out of the lab coat and dropped it to the floor. The back of the gown had worked its way open and was showing off more than she realized.

Mitch couldn’t prevent the wicked grin that tilted his lips, or the equally wicked retort that flew out of his mouth before he could stop it. “I don’t know, from some angles it’s not so bad.”

Realizing where he was looking she blushed and closed the door in his face. He shook his head in disbelief. He’d just flirted with her. What was wrong with him? Hadn’t he learned his lesson already? Time for more coffee. Strong coffee. Because he definitely needed to clear his head.

By the time Alex found her way to the kitchen, the smell of fresh-brewed coffee had filled the air and Mitch had downed one cup and was working on a second.

“Have a seat.” He motioned to the table and chairs occupying the center of the big, old-fashioned kitchen. He reminded himself that he wasn’t supposed to notice the athletic muscle tone of her legs, or the way his too-big T-shirt made her look even more vulnerable. “Coffee?”

“Please.” She sat down gingerly.

He imagined that she was pretty sore from the unexplained beating she had taken. At least she wasn’t shaking now, he noticed. He poured her a cup and sat it down on the table in front of her. “Are you hungry?”

She shook her head, then moistened her lips. Mitch cursed himself for following that last move with too much interest.

“I don’t think I could handle any food right now.”

She closed her eyes and he knew she was reliving the scene that had taken place in her hospital room.

“Why don’t you tell me what happened.”

Her eyes opened and she looked up at him with a kind of pain that tugged hard at his emotions. “I’d been lying there for what felt like forever trying to remember what went down with…with Deputy Miller.” She shrugged halfheartedly. “Finally, I had to get up. I couldn’t lie there a minute longer.” Hesitating briefly, she frowned. “When I sat up I heard a sound like glass cracking and something hit the pillow right behind me. I guess it was instinct, but I rolled off the bed and onto the floor even before I realized what had actually happened. I knocked the telephone off the table in the process.”

She stared into her cup for a while as she gathered her courage and began again. “I guess the deputy heard the crash. The door flew open and he rushed in. I tried to warn him to get down, but it happened too fast.” She pressed trembling fingers to her mouth. “I tried to stop the bleeding…but I couldn’t.” Tears welled past her lashes and slid down her cheeks. “All I could think to do then was run from the danger.”

“So you came here?” He worked hard not to be affected by her vulnerability, and at the same time to keep an open mind.

She nodded. “I was afraid. I didn’t know where else to hide. I knew no one would look for me here. And this was the only other place I remembered besides the hotel.”

She was right about that first part. No one would have ever looked here. Not even him. She obviously didn’t remember the words that had passed between them in this very room on the night before last, since she felt comfortable coming here. “How can I be sure that you didn’t call out to Deputy Saylor for the shooter to take down so that you could escape?”

“What?” She pushed out of her chair, sending it scraping across the floor. “Someone tried to kill me!”

Mitch sat his cup down, watching closely for every nuance of her reaction. He had to play devil’s advocate. Had to see and feel her response. “The second bullet could have been the one that hit your pillow to make it look as if someone was trying to kill you.”

She braced her hands at her waist. “You can’t believe that. Why would I have come here? Why would I try to help that deputy if I’d wanted him dead? Do you think I would have—?” A gasp stole the rest of what she intended to say as her mind evidently replayed those final moments in the hospital.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Preston,” Mitch offered, with absolutely no contrition. “But until we solve this case, you’re my prime suspect. Despite the fact that you came here, running only made you look more guilty.”

She stared directly into his eyes. “I ran because I was afraid. I don’t know why I came to your house,” she said flatly. “And I can’t tell you what happened in that car with Miller.” She flung her arms upward in frustration. “I don’t even know how I got all these bruises. But the one thing I can tell you is that I didn’t kill anyone. I know that.”

She swayed slightly and had the presence of mind to drop back into her chair before Mitch had to reach for her.

“All right,” he relented. “Let’s say for the moment that I believe you. How do you propose we go about proving your story? After all, you lied to me about why you were here from the beginning.” She might not remember just yet, but he couldn’t put it out of his head.

That got her attention. Confusion claimed her features. “I don’t know why I lied to you. But there must have been a reason I held anything back.”

Incredibly, he believed her. Mitch swore silently. This was nuts. He should just take her back to the hospital this minute and put her under guard in a room with no windows. What the hell was he thinking standing here allowing himself to swallow her story hook, line and sinker?