Lone Defender (Love Inspired Suspense)

by Shirlee McCoy

  “Hello?” Still half-asleep, she shouted into the phone, wincing at the raw, rough sound of her voice echoing through the silent apartment.

  “Skylar? It’s Samuel Mitchell. Sorry for calling you so early.”

  “It’s okay. What’s up?”

  “We’ve been able to match dental records and fingerprints, and we’ve confirmed our murder victim’s identity. It’s Daniel Redmond.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me.” She turned on a light, started the coffeemaker. She needed caffeine and she needed it fast, because Samuel Mitchell’s early morning call wasn’t making sense. They’d all assumed the identity of the victim. It wouldn’t have hurt for him to wait a few more hours to give her the news.

  “That’s not why I’m calling, though.”

  Okay. So, there was more.

  Good, because, she’d been sleeping in a comfortable bed for the first time in weeks, and being pulled out of it hadn’t made her happy.

  “What is?” She fished an antibiotic tablet from the bottle the nurse had given her, popped it in her mouth, her hands shaky with the remnants of sleep and the fever she could still feel coursing through her.

  “The tracking team discovered a body late last night. About six miles from the mesa and the bullet the team found yesterday.”

  Another body?

  Suddenly, her thoughts were clear, all the sleepiness gone, the shakes dissipated as adrenaline started to flow. “Who is it?”

  “An older guy. Five-eight, maybe a hundred and twenty pounds. Gray hair pulled into a braid. Hasn’t been dead for more than thirty hours.”

  “Could be the elements got the best of him.”

  “The bullet in the back of his head and the slit in his throat say different.”

  “Same as Redmond?”

  “Exactly. Sampson mentioned an older guy during his interview with Phoenix P.D., said the guy took a shot at you.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Did you get a look at him?”

  “Yes. From your description, I’d say it’s the same guy. Wiry, older and the size fits. Do you have an identity on the victim?”

  “Fortunately, yes. He’s a career criminal named Josiah Stanley. Small-time thug. Liked to cash bad checks and shop-lift. Got caught with marijuana a few times. Nothing big enough to get him put away for much time, but enough that we know his face and his name.”

  “So, he moved up on the crime ladder, messed with the big dogs and got himself killed?”

  “Looks that way, but circumstantial evidence is only that. It’s possible his death isn’t connected to what happened to you.”

  “Not very.”

  “True, but we want proof positive if we can get it. That’ll assure us that, once we find him, the person responsible will pay for all of his crimes.”

  “You want me to try to identify the body? That’ll link everything for sure.” Though she wasn’t sure she could do it. She’d seen the guy in the dark and in a panic. Not good circumstances for taking in details.

  “That won’t be necessary, but we would like you and Sampson to look at some mug shots. If you can pick the deceased out of the lineup, that’ll link things. We’re also pulling prints, seeing if we can match his to ones found on the gun you carried out of the desert.”

  “I’m sure you’ll find more of mine and Jonas’s than anyone’s. We weren’t exactly worrying about contaminating evidence.”

  “We matched the ones belonging to both of you, and we have two others that we’re running through the system.”

  “When do you want us to come to the station?”

  “Whenever you’re ready. We’ve already pulled the mug shots.”

  “You’ll be there for a while?”

  “A couple more hours.”

  “Then, I guess there’s no time like the present.”

  “See you soon.” He hung up, and Skylar grabbed clean clothes, took a quick shower and braided her hair, stared at the phone as she sipped a cup of coffee.

  Call him.

  She knew she had to, but if she let herself she could still feel the warmth of Jonas’s lips, feel her senses tumbling into that place where nothing mattered. Where fear didn’t exist and hurt couldn’t intrude.

  Where dreams might really come true.

  A dangerous place to be, but there were bigger dangers she needed to be worried about, real fears that needed to concern her.

  She grabbed the phone, found his number and dialed. Let it ring until voice mail picked up, and she left a message.

  Was he still asleep?

  If so, he’d earned the right, but Skylar’s sleepiness had fled, caffeine and adrenaline making her restless for action.

  She paced to the window, the minutes ticking by as she stared out into the dark morning. A shadow moved, easing around the side of Jonas’s house, merging into the night. Gone as quickly as it was there.

  Skylar’s heart jumped, her pulse pounding in her ears as she watched, waited.

  There! At the edge of Jonas’s porch. Movement she might have missed if she weren’t looking for it. Furtive. Slow. Disappearing around the corner of the house.

  She grabbed the phone, called Jonas again. No answer. He slept while danger stalked, and Skylar wasn’t going to wait around for it to reach him. She dialed the police, asking for backup as she grabbed a knife from the kitchen drawer, turned off the alarm and the lights. Quick, decisive, the way she’d been when she was on the force and every second counted, because every second did count.

  Out the door, keeping low, sticking to shadows as she rounded the side of the house, the knife clutched in her hand. She wanted her gun, wished she’d carried it with her from New York. Too much trouble for an easy case, and she’d left it behind.

  Hopefully, she’d live to regret her mistake.

  No sirens, yet, and Skylar eased toward the back of the house, listening, watching. Nothing. No movement. No sound. Just her quiet breaths, her crunching footsteps, her pounding heart.

  Had she imagined the shadow? Imagined the movement?

  She had a split second of doubt, and then he was on her, a shadow swooping in from nowhere, grabbing her wrist before she could move. The knife falling from numb fingers, as she was whipped around, pressed into the side of the house.

  “Are you nuts?” Jonas hissed, his hand pressed to her mouth so that she couldn’t respond, the faint sound of sirens ringing through the darkness.

  Soft footfalls sounded near the back of the house, gravel crunching, someone running. Toward them? Away from them?

  “Get down and stay down.”

  She barely had time to register the words before she was on the ground, lying in a winter dry flower bed as Jonas moved toward the back of the house. Lying in the dirt while he saved the day, and she didn’t even know how she’d gotten there.

  She reached for the knife and followed, trying to move as silently as Jonas. Failing miserably.

  An engine roared to life, the sound shattering the stillness, lights flashing from a point beyond Jonas’s driveway as a car sped away.

  The enemy sped away.

  Skylar sprinted to the road, nearly barreling into Jonas as she reached it.

  He turned, grabbing her arm as she stopped short.

  “I told you to stay down!” he growled over the sound of the approaching sirens.

  “And you thought I would listen?”

  “I thought you’d use some commonsense and stay in the apartment instead of throwing yourself into the mix when you didn’t know what was in it.”

  “I told you before that—”

  “You leap first and look later. Not a good plan for staying alive. Come on. We’ll wait for the police in the house.” He stalked away, still managing to move silently despite his obvious anger.

  “That wasn’t what I was going to say, and I didn’t leap first. I considered my options and decided that the best one didn’t include letting you be killed while you slept,” she threw back at him as she caught up.
r />   “I wasn’t asleep. I was out hunting a predator.”

  “Well, I would have known that if you’d bothered to inform me.”

  “You think I should have taken the time to give you a call before I went after the person heading for your apartment? Is that what you’re saying?” They stepped into his house, and he flipped on a light, his movements sharp and filled with irritation.

  “I—” The words caught in her throat as she took him in. Black hair hanging to his collar, faded jeans hugging lean hips, soft cotton shirt showcasing muscles in his chest and arms, ocean blue eyes shooting fire. He took her breath away, made every thought fly from her head.

  She frowned, dropping the knife onto a granite island that separated the living area from a spacious kitchen. “Is this our first fight, Jonas, because if it is, I’d like to know. Make sure I get all the details of it right when I write about it in my diary.”

  He scowled, then shook his head, his lips twitching with a half smile. “You keep a diary?”

  “No, but I’m thinking I might start. My life has gotten a lot more interesting in the past week.”

  “Too interesting. And, for the record, we’ve been fighting nonstop since we met.”

  “True, so how about we call a truce and admit that we both did what we had to.”

  “Too bad doing it didn’t net us a bad guy. I’d have loved to ask a few questions.” He opened the front door, stepping onto the porch as a police cruiser pulled in front of the house.

  “You folks okay? We got a couple calls about an intruder,” the deputy called, as he got out of the car, moved into the light from the open door so that they could see his face.

  Dark hair and eyes, deep tan.

  Marcus Williams.

  “We’re fine, but the guy who was here escaped,” Jonas said, frustration still seeping through every word. Skylar understood. She felt it, too. One perp, that’s all they needed to blow the case wide open.

  Too bad this one had slipped through their fingers.

  “Probably for the best. It’s never a good idea for civilians to confront an intruder. Although, I guess neither of you are really that. How about we go inside, you tell me what you saw.”

  It didn’t take long. Maybe a half hour. Another hour for Deputy Williams and another responding officer to sweep the grounds, search for evidence. There was nothing. Not even a footprint. Skylar wanted to be out on the field, tracking leads, trying to connect the dots so she could see the picture more clearly. Wanted to be anywhere but on Jonas’s couch, sipping coffee and listening while the deputy told her what she already knew. No evidence. No clues. Nothing but their word that they’d seen someone stalking the house.

  “Here’s the thing, if you were anyone else, I’d say you saw a transient, but since you’re you, I’m inclined to believe someone was here gunning for you. We’ve been running patrols every couple hours, but obviously missed the mark on this one. We’ll increase our presence, but I can’t guarantee it’ll be enough. If you see someone again, stay in the house until backup arrives. You’re going to the station to look at mug shots, right?”

  “Right,” Skylar answered, and Jonas frowned. Out of the loop and obviously not happy about it.

  “I’ll have your statements typed up when you get there. You can just add your John Hancock, and we’ll be set. Call the station directly if there’s any more trouble. We know the situation you’re in better than 9-1-1, and we can mobilize and be here quickly.” He handed Skylar a business card and she tucked it in her pocket.

  “Thank you, Deputy.” She walked onto the porch, but Jonas motioned her back.

  “Let’s not give a sniper a clear shot, okay?”

  Next thing she knew, both men were out at the cruiser, and she was behind a closed door, twiddling her thumbs and waiting.

  Again.

  A minute passed. Two.

  They were talking about the case, probably talking about her, and she was sitting on a couch letting them do it.

  Not how she wanted to play things.

  She was halfway to the door when it swung open, and Jonas walked in, his gaze sweeping her from head to toe. Braided hair and scuffed boots, soft sweater and faded jeans.

  She blushed, heat sweeping up her face.

  “You’re flushed. Did you take your medicine?” He touched her forehead, and everything she’d felt the night before swept in.

  She moved back.

  “I’m fine. And, yes, I took it. Now, how about you stop worrying about me, and we get moving? Did Deputy Williams explain things?”

  “Yes. It sounds like the guy whose bullet missed you by an inch paid for his mistake.”

  “That’s what I was thinking.”

  “You think you’ll recognize a mug shot of him?”

  “I think so.”

  “Me, too.”

  “Good. Let’s go.” She grabbed the doorknob, but he tugged her back.

  “Not so fast, Grady. We need to set up some ground rules, first. Starting with rule one. When I say ‘stay down,’ you stay.”

  “I’ve never been good at following rules.”

  “Get good, because I’m not willing to watch you die.”

  “Meaning?”

  “I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you don’t, and stupid moves on your part? They might not work out so well for either of us. I had a gun tonight. You didn’t. I don’t have a hit out on my head. You do. You should have thought of those things before you ran out into danger.”

  She had a biting retort on the tip of her tongue, almost let it fly, but there was something in Jonas’s eyes, memories that still haunted him, regrets he’d never stop feeling. They stole her anger away.

  “All right.”

  “That’s it?” He frowned, pressed his palm to her forehead.

  “Yes, and it’s not the fever talking. You’re right. I should have thought things through a little more. Needless risks aren’t my style, but I’m not willing to watch you die any more than you are me. That influenced my decisions. Maybe more than it should have.”

  He eyed her for a moment, something hot flashing in his eyes, there and gone so quickly she wasn’t sure she’d seen it.

  “Good to know, Grady. Now come on. We’ve got work to do, and a limited time to do it in.” He stepped outside, and she followed.

  She’d meant to handle the investigation alone. That’s how she’d gone into it. No partner ever again. No chance of betrayal. But Jonas had stepped in, become what she didn’t want and had told herself for years she didn’t need.

  He’d stepped in, and she wasn’t going to ask him to step out. Didn’t want him to step out.

  Sometimes you have to risk everything to have something wonderful. That’s what he’d said, and she thought that maybe he was right. Thought that maybe something wonderful was just waiting for her to reach out and take it. If she dared.

  Did she?

  Skylar wasn’t sure, but as she climbed into the truck, waited for Jonas to climb in with her, she couldn’t help wondering if she dared not reach for it.

  Something wonderful?

  Or the same thing she’d had for more years than she cared to think about?

  Not much of a choice, but she was still afraid.

  Afraid of having her heart filled and then having it emptied again.

  Afraid.

  But maybe not too afraid to try.

  The thought filled her mind as Jonas pulled onto the highway and headed for the sheriff’s department.

  FOURTEEN

  It took Jonas two seconds to choose the perp off a printed sheet that showcased twelve mug shots. Perp and victim. The guy had hung with the wrong crowd, and the crowd had turned on him. Maybe because he’d missed an opportunity to take out Skylar, or maybe because he’d only been a small piece of a very large picture.

  Expendable and expended.

  “That’s him.” He pointed to the third face in the second row, wondered if Skylar was pointing out the same one to the sheriff. Th
e picture on the sheet showed a man who was gaunt, worn, with a vague look in hazy eyes. A drug addict or alcoholic. The guy had taken a wrong turn at some point in his life, and it had led to an open grave in the desert.

  “You’re sure?” Chief Deputy Mitchell asked, and Jonas nodded.

  “It was too dark to see eye or hair color, but I got a good look at his bone structure, the shape of his nose and the angle of his jaw. It’s him.”

  “Josiah Stanley, you really did it this time.” Mitchell tapped the man’s face with his finger, and shook his head.

  “You’ve had dealings with him before?”

  “Enough to know he was more interested in where he was getting his next drink than having a lot of stuff. He committed crimes to feed the need for booze.”

  “You think he was a lackey, then?”

  “Yeah. He had a reputation as a tracker an eon ago. Used to make some money taking people on desert excursions. Got drunk one too many times on the job, and that was that.”

  “So, someone might have hired him to find Skylar.”

  “That’s my guess. It’s hard to say, though, seeing as how he can’t tell us the story.” Mitchell steepled his fingers together, and eyed Jonas across the desk.

  “I didn’t kill him, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  “I figured if you had, he’d have a bullet through the heart and his throat intact. What I’m wondering is if he knew who you were. If he did, he might have panicked, decided to cut his losses and take off on his own.”

  “I’ve never met the man.” Jonas lifted the photo.

  “People in the same industry keep tabs on each other, right? And when someone’s really good at what he does, news of it travels. You were raised in the area, you came back to it, and not quietly. Most people in the community knew why you’d returned, what you’d been doing while you were gone. More than likely, Stanley knew, too.” He shrugged. “Not that it matters. For whatever reason, he’s dead.”

  “And we’re no closer to answers than we were before you found his body.”

  “No, but two executions in a couple weeks…that’s a big deal for our department. We’re digging, and we’re going to find out who is responsible.”