Beneath the Badge

A thin wiry security guard for Cantara Hills spoke first. “We have other teams dispatched, searching the surrounding houses, canvassing the neighborhood.”

Hayes nodded while the EMTs examined Taylor. The CSI tech approached with a kit.

“Process her,” he told them. Although the chlorinated water might have washed away or destroyed trace evidence.

“We’ll need to take her in for X-rays, an EKG and lab work,” one of the paramedics said.

Hayes angled his head toward Taylor. “I’ll meet you at the hospital. I want to search the house first in case the perp is inside or left evidence.”

Taylor’s gaze sought his, and he offered a brusque smile. She looked incredibly small and fragile, as if she didn’t want him to leave, but that was shock talking. She’d never given him the time of day before.

Shaking off the thought, he left her with the medics so he could focus on the crime scene.

One of the CSI agents began with Taylor while the second one followed him around to the terrace. “Consider the crime scene as the pool area and backyard,” he told the criminologist. “Our victim first saw her attacker by the gardens, so check for footprints, trace, anything you can find.”

He gestured around the terrace. “My guess is he knocked over that plant while trying to escape. He probably ran through the gardens, jumped the fence and disappeared on foot, so look for footprints. Maybe his car was parked on a neighboring street. Or maybe he lives nearby.” Hell, by now he might have cleaned up, disposed of the clothes he’d worn during the attack and be safely in his house or bed.

Then again, Taylor hadn’t been in the pool that long. Maybe he hadn’t escaped.

Hopefully one of the security guys would turn up something. “I’m going to check the inside premises, see if our guy might be hiding in one of the rooms.”

He hoped to hell he was inside Taylor’s. Then he could arrest the SOB and make him pay for hurting her.

But first, he’d like to take a fist to him for the bruises on her face and neck.

And if he’d hired Montoya to kill Kimberly…

Well, if he had, Hayes had a good excuse to kill him.

TAYLOR COULDN’T SHAKE the realization that she’d almost died as she allowed the EMTs to examine her. If it hadn’t been for Sergeant Hayes Keller, she would still be floating in that pool. Dead. Her life over.

And who would care?

Her opulent mansion with its thirty-plus rooms mocked her. She had Caroline, Margaret and Victoria, but no significant male….

The CSI technician, a young woman with sandyblond hair, offered her a friendly smile. “We need to photograph your injuries, ma’am.”

Taylor frowned, feeling violated all over again as she dropped the towel and the woman began to snap pictures.

While she tried to lift prints from Taylor’s neck, then scraped beneath her fingernails, Taylor closed her eyes, focusing on anything besides the attack. But images of the Texas Ranger’s eyes flickered in her head. She could still feel his breath on her face, his touch on her mouth. His dark eyes had held worry….

Impossible.

He didn’t even like her. He was simply a cop doing a job.

But no man had ever treated her as gently as he had when he’d comforted her.

Good grief, she was pathetic. Was she so desperate for comfort that she’d conjure an attraction between them, and a heart in the cold man beneath that badge?

Her ping-ponging emotions must be due to her upcoming birthday. She was turning the big three-oh. Her biological clock was ticking like a time bomb. And although people assumed she’d host a big bash to celebrate, she wouldn’t.

Besides, turning thirty had its own consequences. She’d inherit the millions from the trust fund her father had reserved for her.

Yet he wouldn’t personally show to celebrate the big day.

And Miles, her half brother, would hate her even more.

The argument she’d had with him earlier taunted her. The resentment in his tone, the accusations in his eyes. For a moment, she’d been afraid of him. He’d gripped her arm and shouted at her, had sounded out of control, almost threatening. And then that phone call…

No. She didn’t like the path her mind was taking.

Miles wouldn’t try to kill her, would he?

Chapter Three

Hayes checked the circuit breakers and restored power before searching the mansion. Throwing some light in the house might drive out the perp, or at least strip the guy of his advantage.

He gripped his weapon in one hand and kept his eyes trained for the intruder as he moved through the lower level. Taylor’s basement housed a fully equipped gym, rec room with pool table, bar and a movie theater, as well as a separate kitchen and two suites. Hell, her basement furnishings were nicer than anything he owned.

He slowly climbed the stairs, pausing to listen, but other than the hum of the air conditioner and the padding of his boots on the kitchen tiles as he eased through the breakfast room, the house was silent. He crossed the formal dining room, to the living room, to the office. Built-in bookshelves held a variety of titles, while the room held a state-of-the-art computer system, sitting area and conference table. Photographs of Taylor and her father, then Taylor at various charity functions, decorated the walls, along with award plaques and a framed diploma from a private school in Switzerland. She’d apparently earned a business degree and now ran the Landis Foundation.

So she was not only beautiful and rich but smart.

He stored that information while he checked the family room with fireplace and twelve-foot ceilings and a ballroom with Palladian windows which obviously was used to host her elaborate parties. He’d seen photographs of them in the society section of the newspaper.

A place where he wouldn’t be caught dead.

Finally, he found his way through a hallway to a bedroom suite the size of an apartment.

He wondered if this was Taylor’s suite, but saw no personal belongings in the room. Decorated in earth tones, it held a king-size brass bed, dresser, flat-screen TV and sitting room. A massive bath in gold and white with a Jacuzzi and dozens of plush towels overflowing a baker’s rack opened to a large walk-in closet.

The suite was empty, so he headed back to the foyer, then climbed the curved staircase, again pausing to listen. But he heard nothing. He still couldn’t relax, not until he’d searched every square inch of the house.

Taking a deep breath, he clenched his hand tighter around his gun and combed the suites to the left, then retraced his steps back to the bank of rooms on the right. In the first bedroom, a white four-poster bed draped in blue-and-white satin drew his eye.

Judging from the lived-in look and feminine furnishings, he guessed it was Taylor’s room. A black satin robe lay draped across the bed and a pair of slippers peeked from beneath the footboard. The room looked like her—tasteful, classy, soft.

For a moment, he imagined her sprawled on the satin sheets wearing nothing but a skimpy teddy or…nothing at all, and his body hardened with desire.

He quickly shook off the image. What in the hell was wrong with him?

An iPod and speaker system sat opposite the bed on a cluster of shelves holding candles, and in the corner a dresser held a silver brush and comb set and a jewelry box. He wondered if Taylor kept all her jewelry so accessible, but assumed she had a built-in safe somewhere in the house for her more expensive pieces. When she was released from the hospital, he’d have her check the house to see if anything was missing.

A bay window with chaise and reading lamp occupied one corner with a window seat separating two oversized chairs. He bypassed them and entered an elegant bath in blue and white, and a set of closets. Inside, he clenched his jaw at the sight of glittery gowns, expensive wraps, designer shoes and business suits. The second closet held Taylor’s casual clothes, he assumed, since it was filled with sundresses, slacks, designer sweaters, and one wall housed shelves holding bathing suits and summer wear.

He snarled. His yearly salary wouldn’t equal her monthly clothing allowance.

It didn’t matter. He had to focus on his mission.

The rooms were empty, and didn’t look as if they’d been touched by an intruder, meaning the perpetrator probably hadn’t attacked her with the intention of theft.

So not a break-in gone awry. The perp’s intentions had been more sinister—murder.

Moving on, he searched the other rooms, sighing as he descended the steps. Just as he was bypassing the office, he noticed a broken fingernail caught on the edge of the rug by the desk. He stooped and picked it up, wondering who it belonged to. The phone jangled so he bagged the fingernail, then hurried to the desk and checked the caller ID. An international call. Her father?

He picked up the receiver. “Taylor Landis’s residence.”

A long moment of silence. “Who in the hell is this?”

“Sergeant Hayes Keller, Texas Ranger. Whom am I speaking with?”

“Lionel Landis. What’s going on? Why are you at my daughter’s house? And why are you answering her phone?”

Hayes grimaced at the man’s condescending tone. But he had a right to know his daughter had been attacked. And Hayes had to explore every angle. If the assault on Taylor wasn’t related to Kimberly’s murder, it might have something to do with the wealthy Landis family. Then he’d need information on the family and their business dealings.

“Sir, I hate to have to tell you this, but your daughter was assaulted tonight.”

“What? My God, is she all right?”

“Yes, sir. But the paramedics transported her to the hospital for X-rays and observation.”

“I heard about those break-ins in the community. Was that what this was about?”

“I don’t know yet, but I can assure you I’ll find out.”

A long pause. “Maybe I should hire a bodyguard to watch her around the clock.”

Hayes clenched his jaw. Odd that her father didn’t offer to fly back to see her himself. Instead, he wanted to send hired help.

A private bodyguard would mean Hayes wouldn’t have to spend time with Taylor himself.

But damn. He was a ranger, and he had to finish this case, find the man who’d tried to kill Taylor. “That won’t be necessary, Mr. Landis. I’ll personally provide protection for your daughter 24-7.”

He hung up the phone but noticed the desk drawer ajar and examined it. The bottom drawer had been jimmied, papers tossed around.

The killer had been in this room. He’d have CSI dust it for prints.

What had he been looking for?

EXHAUSTION WEIGHED ON TAYLOR as the nurse helped her settle into the hospital bed. She’d been treated, had blood drawn, undergone an EKG, then wheeled to X-ray where they’d x-rayed her chest and lungs. Thankfully all the tests were clear.

Other than nearly dying tonight, she was healthy.

Still, they’d hooked her up to an IV, checked her vitals, then the nurse offered her a sedative. But Taylor expected Sergeant Keller to show up any minute to question her, and she wanted to be coherent.

Besides, she avoided taking pills or medications unless it was absolutely necessary. Too many people she’d met at parties relied on drugs or alcohol for recreation and survival, and she was determined not to fall into that dangerous lifestyle so often portrayed in the tabloids as the rich and careless.

Still, fatigue pulled at her, and she finally dozed off. But nightmares of the attack haunted her, and she tossed and turned, battling the terrifying memories.

She was running, fighting, struggling for air, being pushed under the water, held down…drowning.

She woke, gasping for air, her heart racing. Gray had settled over the room like a fog, the sound of someone breathing echoing in the quiet. Panic shot through her.

Oh, God, her attacker had come here to finish killing her.

She threw off the covers to run, but suddenly two firm hands gripped her arms. “Shh, Taylor, it’s me. Hayes.”

She was just about to scream, but the sound of his husky voice registered, and she stifled a sob.

“I didn’t mean to scare you, but you were sleeping.”

She relaxed against him, but her heart was still pounding. “I was dreaming about the attack….”

He smoothed her hair from her cheek, then eased down onto the edge of the bed. “It’s over now. You’re safe.”

She nodded and forced herself to block out the terrifying images from her nightmare. Despite her efforts, her hand went to her throat.

“You didn’t find him at the house?” she asked.

He shook his head, and she noticed he was wearing the same jeans and shirt he had on when he’d pulled her from the pool. They were still damp, and he must be uncomfortable, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“Your assailant caused the power outage by tampering with the circuit breakers, but I didn’t find anyone inside. CSI is dusting for prints and searching both the inside and outside, as well, for footprints, fibers, anything that might help us identify him.”

“He didn’t steal anything?”

“Not that I could tell. But you’ll need to inventory your valuables, jewelry, etcetera, to verify if anything is missing.”

“I’ll do that tomorrow when I get home.”

He gave a clipped nod. “The desk in your office had been ransacked. Do you have any idea what the intruder might have been looking for?”

She shook her head. “Maybe financial information on the foundation?”

“It’s possible. You should examine your files and follow up on any credit cards.”

She bit her lip. “Yes, I will.”

“I left a guard at the house overnight in case he returns or someone else shows up.”

“Thank you, Sergeant.”

“You can call me Hayes.” He hesitated, then his gaze zeroed in on her nails. “Your nails are real?”

She nodded. “Why?”

“I found a broken red nail, looked like an acrylic, inside your house.”

She frowned. “I often have guests over, females. It could have come from any one of them.”

“You’re sure your attacker was male?”

His question threw her off guard. “I think so.”

“I also found a blond hair caught in a twig in the tree by the garden.”

She rubbed her temple. “I have parties out there, too. It could belong to anyone.”

“I’ll see what forensics says.” He paused. “Can you talk about the attack now?”

She propped herself up against the pillows. “I told you what happened already.”

“Indulge me and go over it again. Sometimes the passage of time allows victims to remember more details.”

She sighed, hating to rehash the night but knowing it was imperative. “Okay. I got home around ten, but I was restless, antsy after all that’s happened in the neighborhood lately.” In fact, she hadn’t slept well since Kimberly McQuade had died. If she hadn’t hosted the party that night, maybe the young woman would still be alive.

She glanced at Hayes, suddenly realizing that he probably felt the same way, probably blamed her.

“Go on,” he said sharply.

She cleared her throat; it was still so dry it hurt to talk. “I couldn’t sleep, so I checked the alarm and changed into my swimsuit. Then I went for a swim.”

“Had you been drinking?”

Irritation gnawed at her. “I had a glass of wine with dinner, but I wasn’t drunk if that’s what you’re implying.”

“You usually swim alone at night?”

She tensed at the scrutiny in his tone. Did he think she was being stupid, that she’d brought the attack on herself? “Sometimes,” she said truthfully. “I’m a good swimmer, and I had the security system set.” She glared at him. “Besides, I thought you rangers had caught the killer and that I was safe.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw, and she knew she’d scored a direct hit.

“Your attack may or may not be related to the other crimes,” he said sharply. “You’re wealthy, everyone knows that. You must have some enemies.”

She tore her gaze away with a shiver. If he’d meant to scare her, he had.

“Were the lights on when you came out by the pool?”

“Yes, Sergeant. I would have called security if they hadn’t been.”

He simply arched a dark brow, his expression cold and hard, and she silently willed herself to stop reacting. What did she care what Hayes Keller thought of her?

When she continued, she tried to relay the events as if it had happened to a stranger, not to her. “I was swimming laps when the power flickered off. I got nervous, decided to see what caused the outage, then I saw a movement by the gardens. I got out and ran toward the door…Before I reached it, the man jumped me from behind.” She paused, unable to breathe for a moment as she remembered his fingers around her throat.

Again, the ranger stared at her with an intensity that made her more nervous.

She could not break down in front of the man again. “We struggled and he tried to strangle me, then we fell into the pool.”

“He fell into the pool with you?”

“Yes. I fought him, but he kept choking me, then pushed me underwater and held me down.”

He made a low sound with his teeth. “That’s probably the reason he turned on the water hose, to wash away his prints. But I’ll have the pool dragged for trace.” He paused. “You said you were a swimmer?”

“Yes, high-school swim team. I set the record for holding my breath the longest on my team.”

“That’s probably what saved you.”

“No, Sergeant Keller, you saved me,” she said with a tentative smile. “If you hadn’t shown up when you had…”

He glanced away for the first time, his jaw clenched tight, then shrugged. “Just doing my job, ma’am.”

She didn’t like the way he said ma’am, as if it was an insult. “Well, thank you anyway.”

His eyes darkened, narrowed to slits as if he was issuing some kind of silent warning. “You don’t owe me thanks. Just answer the questions.”

She tensed at his brusque tone. Just when she thought he was human, he turned back into a growling lion. “What else do you want to know?”

The bite to her voice echoed in the silence for a moment before he replied. “You didn’t see the man’s face?”

“No. He was wearing a mask.”

“Like a ski mask?”

“Yes. And gloves. Latex gloves.”

His brows pinched together with his frown. “Maybe those will turn up or we’ll lift some trace off of your fingernails.”

She nodded, glad she’d fought back.

“Anything else you remember about your attacker? A particular odor? His height, size?”

“No, it’s all so foggy.”

His dark gaze met hers. “Tell me about your day, what happened earlier, before the attack.”

She scrunched her nose in thought. “I don’t see how that’s relevant.”

“Just do it, Taylor. Retrace your steps.”

“All right, but you don’t have to be so ornery.” She tried to think back. “I spent the morning handling routine business matters for the foundation. Had lunch there. Then a business meeting with the City Board at five that ran till about seven. After that, I met a friend for dinner in San Antonio.”

“Did you notice anyone following you during the day? Or when you left the restaurant?”

She rubbed her temple where a headache pulsed. “No.”

He folded his arms. “Who attended the board meeting?”

“All of the board members. Sarah DeMarco, Devon Goldenrod—”

“Kenneth Sutton?”

“Yes.”

“I was told that he and Kimberly McQuade had an argument before she died. Do you know what their disagreement was about?”

She frowned. “No. Kimberly was looking over the campaign budget, and she’d also reviewed the other finances for the board. Maybe there was a problem.”

“So they might have argued about money?”

“I really don’t know. Why is that important?”

“I’m just tying up loose ends. Sometimes small details can offer clues.”

She conceded his point. After all, he was the cop. The chip-on-the-shoulder one, but it looked as if she was stuck with him.

“So, did anything unusual happen at the meeting?”

She hesitated, hated to impugn Kenneth unnecessarily.

“Taylor, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me the truth.”

“Kenneth seemed excited about planning ahead for the gubernatorial election, but we did have a tense moment.”

He leaned forward. “About what?”

“The bid for the new city library and to extend the tourist area by the Riverwalk. There’s talk that the bid was tampered with.”

“And that Kenneth was involved?”

“That’s what I’ve heard, but he denied it and I believe him.”

Silence met her statement, making her wonder what he was thinking. “You don’t like Kenneth Sutton, do you?”

“He’s a politician. No, I don’t trust him.

“And after the meeting? Who did you have dinner with?”

She hesitated.

“Taylor?”

She twisted her hands together. “Margaret Hathaway.”

His jaw tightened again. “You two are friends?”

“Yes. We met at our favorite restaurant and sushi bar, Bluefish. Margaret’s wedding to Devon Goldenrod is around the corner, and we were finalizing wedding plans.”

“Did anything unusual happen while you were there?”

“Not unusual. But I ran into my half brother, Miles.”

His mouth thinned. “How did that go?”

She sighed, knotting the bedsheet between her fingers. She hated to discuss family. But if the ranger asked at the restaurant, he’d find out on his own. Her problems with her brother weren’t exactly a secret.

“Taylor, I know that Miles has been hitting up friends for loans. Caroline told us that already.” He cleared his throat. “Is that what he wanted with you?”

So much for family privacy. Then again, she should be used to it. Just because she was wealthy, tabloids, reporters and neighbors thought her life was food for the gossipmongers. “Yes, but I turned him down again. He blew up, made a scene….”

She looked away, his phone call echoing in her head.

Hayes narrowed his eyes. “He threatened you, didn’t he?”

She sucked in a sharp breath. “Not exactly.”

“What does that mean?”

She finally faced him. “He told me I’d be sorry for turning my back on him.”

He stood, bracing his feet apart, and hooked his thumbs in his belt loops. “That sounds like a threat to me.”

She shrugged, unable to voice the truth. That she was afraid of Miles.

“I’ve posted a guard outside your door.”

“You think that’s necessary?”

He nodded. “And your father called your house. I told him I’d protect you 24-7.”

Taylor’s stomach dipped.

“I’m going to talk to your little brother. Find out if he tried to make good on his threat.” His snakeskin cowboy boots pounded the floor as he pivoted. “Meanwhile, think hard, Taylor. In the morning I want you to make a list of any enemies you might have, former boyfriends or current ones who might want to harm you. Is there one you can think of offhand?”

She lowered her head. “No. I haven’t been involved with anyone recently.”

“In the past?”

She hadn’t broken any hearts if that’s what he meant. She’d never let a man get that close. “Maybe this was a random break-in.”

“Just make the list. If it wasn’t a robbery then someone wanted you dead.”

A chill went through her. “You don’t have to remind me, Sergeant.”

“No? Well, think about this. The person who tried to strangle you could be someone you know from the foundation, someone who has it in for your family, someone who wants your money.”

His dark gaze pierced her. “And it very well may be someone you know and trust, someone you’re even close to. Someone you think is a friend, or your very own brother.”

Chapter Four

Taylor’s heart raced. Surely the ranger was wrong. None of her friends would actually harm her. Although neither she nor Caroline had thought that Carlson Woodward was dangerous and they’d been mistaken.