Search and Rescue

by Valerie Hansen

  “A plus would be finding a viable suspect on the list you finally made. I’ve decided to have you work with Louise to track those people down. The sooner we have addresses for each of them, the sooner we can start crossing off names.”

  “More paperwork?” Sophie sighed. “I have Phoenix to work with and a couple of younger dogs to assess for Ellen’s assistant dog program. I don’t have time to waste shuffling papers.”

  “Do you have time to waste in the hospital?” Ryder considered adding the morgue and thought better of it. Sophie was intelligent. She’d make the correlation without him spelling it out.

  “I can’t run forever.”

  “No, but you can keep your head down.” He let himself smile at her look of consternation. “Pun intended, by the way.”

  “Ha-ha.” She lightly touched the bandage. “I did this ducking. If I’d stood still I wouldn’t have a scratch.”

  “Providing the shooter didn’t fire again.” He scowled at her. “Do you argue with everybody or is it just me?”

  “I’m not arguing.”

  “You could have fooled me.” Ryder wheeled into her driveway and shut off the motor. Instead of allowing Sophie to enter the house alone, he followed. Closely.

  “I don’t need help.”

  “I’m not here to help you. I’m here for protection.”

  Although she rolled her eyes, she didn’t refuse his company. That was a plus. So was her cooperation when he insisted on searching the house before parking himself in the living room to wait for her to freshen up.

  From there he could hear her banging doors and mumbling to herself. It was when she grew quiet that he tensed. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes.”

  The answer was satisfactory but her tone was not. As he started down the hall he heard water running. “Are you dressed?”

  “Yes. I’ll be out in a minute.”

  The door to the bathroom stood ajar. Sophie was leaning sideways over the sink and trying to rinse her blond hair without wetting the injury. There were tears in her eyes.

  He sighed. “Here. Let me do that. You’re making a mess.”

  “I can wash my own hair.”

  “I’m sure you can. But you can’t see what you’re doing without looking in the mirror and if you do that, the soapy water is going to run right into that cut.”

  She winced. “I know. I already tried.”

  This is a mistake, Ryder’s conscience insisted. Yet he reached for her. Touched her silky hair. Cupped his hand beneath the faucet and slowly rinsed her hair.

  She’d closed her eyes and was breathing deeply, as if his ministrations had calmed her. Time stopped. Ryder didn’t want it to ever start again. He watched the water stream through her hair and over the fingers of his other hand. He had not been this close to a woman since Melanie and it didn’t matter how innocent his actions had been in the beginning, they were now eliciting feelings that were far too tender, too extraordinary.

  Ryder snapped himself out of the emotional trap and reached for a towel. He started to press it to her scalp, then changed his mind and stepped back.

  “There. You’re presentable. Just dry it a little and I’ll take you to work.”

  When Sophie opened her eyes and looked at him she seemed every bit as off-kilter as he felt. Her cheeks were rosy, her hazel eyes glowing, glittering.

  Ryder touched her shoulder when she wavered. “You okay?”

  “A little dizzy,” she said, then smiled. “From hanging over the sink, not from banging my head.”

  “If you say so.” Backing away as he spoke, he kept one hand reaching toward her in case she faltered again. “I’ll go check the yard and street. Come out when you’re ready.”

  “Wait.” She straightened. Her smile lessened into an expression that was very different from what he was used to from her. “I want to thank you. For everything.”

  For making a fool of myself just now? Ryder asked himself before rejecting the idea. Only he knew how special it had felt to help her, to touch her hair, to be that close without letting his emotions show.

  “Doing my job,” he alibied, turning away. “I’ll be outside.”

  By the time he reached her front door he was back in cop mode. He’d better be, he cautioned himself. Somebody was out to get his head trainer and until they were able to whittle down the list she’d given them, there was no telling who or what awaited Sophie Williams.

  Easing the door open, Ryder kept one hand on his holster. The sleepy little desert town he’d been charged with protecting had turned into a jungle, filled with predators ready to attack.

  As long as he never let down his guard everything should be all right. But he couldn’t be everywhere. Neither could his officers, even with the rookies working as temps and his veterans putting off planned retirements.

  All any of them could do was try. And pray. And hope that the shooter, whoever he or she was, continued to miss. The way Ryder saw it, it was only a matter of time before more fatalities occurred.

  Visualizing the whiteboard in his office he pictured Sophie among the victims.

  What shocked and surprised him the most was that his vivid imagination had inserted her photo in place of Melanie’s.

  * * *

  Sophie studied herself in the bathroom mirror. She didn’t see the difference she was feeling. She didn’t have to. When Ryder had helped her rinse her hair there had been a connection between them that was inexplainable. And amazing. And other perceptions she wasn’t willing to name or explore. Moreover, he had clearly noticed, too.

  Staring at herself she swiped on lip gloss. Too bad she couldn’t dim the glimmer in her eyes or dull her flaming cheeks. She had always liked Ryder and looked up to him as a consummate professional, but this—this was unexpected.

  Was the surprising emotional connection between them something she should nurture or bury? That was a good question. As long as the chief continued to treat her as if she were not special to him, the wisest thing she could do was act detached, as well. This was certainly not the proper time to try to talk to him about it. He already had a full plate and the more she was involved in ongoing incidents, the less likely he was to open up.

  Reason told her he cared. Logic insisted he should be worried about anyone who worked too closely with the police force. Underlying doubts insisted that his solicitousness arose from a sense of duty rather than personal concern.

  She could live with that assumption more easily than the notion she might be falling for Ryder Hayes. Phoenix saw small kindnesses as a call to abject devotion. Humans were a lot smarter. They—she—was able to think things through and come to sensible conclusions. So, the man had acted tender toward her. So what? He’d have treated anybody who needed help the same. Wouldn’t he?

  Sophie had no idea but she was sure she had dawdled in front of the mirror too long already. Tucking her damp hair behind her ears she straightened and gave herself a strict assessment. Her professional face was on. Her clothes were clean. And the bandage on her forehead was still in place.

  “Good to go.”

  Yet she failed to move. Ryder was out there, waiting for her. Could she maintain her firm facade once she rejoined him?

  Placing both palms on the vanity she looked into her own eyes. “I can do this. I will do this. I’m just feeling needy because I was scared, that’s all.”

  Assuming anything else was not only foolish, it demonstrated weakness. The part of her life in which she was a victim had ended long ago. She was a grown woman. A strong woman. She could stand on her own two feet and face anything.

  “God willing.”

  Now that she was an adult it was easy to accept that she was stronger and more self-assured. The idea that was hard to swallow was that she was not indestructible. Nobody was. Not even cops
in bulletproof vests.

  That thought took her straight back to the night her partner, Wes, had died so needlessly. Where had God been then?

  Immediately contrite and asking forgiveness from her heavenly Father, Sophie turned and headed for the front door. There were many events in life that seemed wrong, unfair, even cruel, yet if she failed to trust God she’d have nothing.

  Faith could be a tenuous thing, particularly when a person was mired in difficulties that seemed inescapable. But a world without faith, without God, was too terrible, too frightening to even contemplate. To her, it would be akin to diving into a pitch-black sea of despair with no chance of return, nothing to grab onto for survival.

  If she did not believe in heaven she could not have faced death daily as a patrol officer or trained the dogs those officers counted on for their own well-being.

  And speaking of officers... Sophie joined Ryder on the porch, locked her door behind her and let him escort her to his car without argument. They had both reverted to their professional personas and the wall around her heart was firmly in place.

  Good. She scanned the street as he did the same. They were a team and they were good at what they did. Sooner or later they’d uncover a clue to her attacker. Or they’d locate Carrie and blame it all on her, a result Sophie preferred over the likelihood that Wes’s brother was behind the attacks. The time was coming when she was going to have to break down and tell Ryder about the funeral and she dreaded having to remember, let alone talk about Stan’s vitriolic rant.

  Sophie stifled a shiver and cast a sidelong glance at Ryder to see if he’d noticed. He apparently had not. That was good, because the last thing she wanted was for him to realize that the more she searched for her shooter, the more she imagined danger behind every tree, every fence, every car.

  The basic drawback was not that she was paranoid. The problem was that she had strong cause to be. Somewhere out there was an unfired bullet with her name on it. She had escaped so far. How much longer could she hope to do so?

  SEVEN

  The weary expression on Louise Donaldson’s face told Ryder she and Sophie had not managed to link anyone on the list of suspects to the recent crimes.

  He paused by the desk. “Well?”

  Both women shook their heads. “I’ve put the names through our state databases and just accessed FBI,” Louise said. “It’s not looking promising.”

  “What about you?” Ryder asked Sophie. “Have you thought of any more names?”

  When she shook her head, she averted her gaze the way a guilty suspect might. He didn’t like that. “Look at me.”

  She raised her hazel gaze to meet his blue one. That was all it took for him to be certain she was keeping secrets. He clenched his teeth, jaw muscles working, and tried to stare her down. She didn’t yield. Nor did she look away again. If anything, her resolve seemed to strengthen.

  “Are you sure?”

  Although she failed to voice her reply she did nod.

  “All right. Keep searching. I’m going to check with state troopers and ask if they’ve had any sightings of Carrie. In spite of the rifle, I still think she’s our most likely suspect.”

  “I agree,” Sophie said, getting to her feet. “I need a break. How would you like to do a little training with Phoenix this morning? He’s really coming around. His attitude is better even after the shooting incident in the yard.”

  “How about you?”

  She smiled and his rigid persona nearly faltered. “Me? I’m always ready to play with dogs.”

  “I was referring to your head wound.”

  “Oh, that. I told you I just banged my head. I have a headache, that’s all.”

  “Yeah, I have a headache, too,” Ryder muttered, glancing at her and frowning. “Her name is Sophie.”

  She chuckled low. “Funny. I named my headache Ralph.”

  “Who’s Ralph?”

  This time she laughed more loudly. “It’s a joke, Chief. Lighten up, will you?”

  “Not until Carrie Dunleavy is behind bars.”

  “I want her caught, too,” Sophie said, “but that doesn’t mean life can’t go on. I have dogs to train and refresher courses to give until we can resume our regular classes. You’re here, I’m here, Phoenix is in a run out back. Can you think of a more opportune time to get in a short session with him?”

  “I suppose not.” Ryder glanced at his office. Titus’s bushy Lab tail was sticking out from behind the desk where he was napping. “I’d like to get the dogs acquainted, too, once we decide for sure if the Aussie is staying. Titus can be pretty protective, particularly of Lily.”

  “That’s pack instinct,” Sophie told him. “Lily’s the littlest member of your family so he guards her.”

  “Which may be another good reason for him to stay home with her instead of coming to work, but my babysitter is a cat lady.”

  “We can overcome that problem,” Sophie assured him. “I’ll need to work with Lily, too, since you won’t be at the babysitter’s with her. I can give her a few simple commands and Titus will behave for her.”

  “Tell that to Opal Mullins the first time he bites a cat,” Ryder said cynically.

  Sophie chuckled again. “Unless she’s had them declawed they should be able to fend him off. Anyway, don’t borrow trouble. There’s enough around already.”

  “You can say that again.”

  “Don’t borrow trouble, there’s...”

  Ryder glared at her. “I wasn’t being literal, Ms. Williams. You go get the dog ready. I’ll meet you over there in a few.”

  As she started to walk away he called after her, “And wear a vest. That’s an order.”

  He could tell by the arch of her eyebrows that she was considering an argument even before she said, “If I die of heatstroke it will be your fault.”

  “I’ll take my chances.”

  And then she was gone. Ryder felt as if all the light had left the squad room. If anything happened to Sophie he knew he’d feel the loss deeply. Would it be the same as losing Melanie. No. Not yet at any rate. But the potential was there. He could sense it.

  His late wife had been grounded, sensible, cautious and still had been murdered. How much worse was it for a woman like Sophie; someone who laughed at danger and made fun of his precautions?

  The idea of telling her to leave town had occurred to him more than once. She wouldn’t, of course. He didn’t have to present the plan to know she’d reject it. Was she truly brave or was her stubbornness a by-product of the turbulent childhood she’d mentioned briefly? Perhaps even she didn’t know.

  Grabbing a bulletproof vest from his office he slipped it on over his uniform shirt and headed for the training complex. One goal was firm in his mind. He was going to get Sophie to tell him what she was hiding; who she had left off the list she’d compiled.

  There wasn’t a shred of doubt in Ryder’s mind. Somewhere in her past lay another suspect. His biggest worry was why she had failed to disclose pertinent information. What was she hiding? And why?

  * * *

  Bright sun made Sophie squint as she stepped outside with Phoenix. Heat radiated off the pavement so she headed straight for what little grass they had managed to keep alive all summer and plopped down in the shade of one of the training obstacles.

  She had complied with Ryder’s order to wear a vest but had not fastened it tightly around her torso. Having it on was bad enough without cutting off air circulation, too. Besides, it was ugly. Not that she was worried about fashion, she countered. But ever since she’d been forced into more and more proximity with Ryder she’d started to notice when she needed lipstick or when her hair was tousled.

  Reminded of his kindness when she’d been trying to wash her hair, she lightly touched the bandage at her temple. The cut barely hurt alt
hough there was a raised, bruised area around it.

  “Better that than a bullet hole,” she muttered, feeling a shiver shoot up her spine despite the August heat. Lying beside her, Phoenix raised his head.

  “I’m okay, boy,” Sophie told him. She stroked his head and scratched behind his ears, enjoying the velvety feel of the fine, gray-and-white hair. If she hadn’t been waiting for the chief to join them she might have laid her head on the dog’s back and closed her eyes. Animals, especially canines, affected her that way. Being around them was calming, relaxing to the point of almost dozing off when she let herself stop working long enough.

  “Here I am,” she whispered pensively, “in a place I thought was perfect until we discovered Carrie Dunleavy had been killing off her competition and any guy who had the misfortune to resemble the chief.”

  Slowly shaking her head she found she was still coming to grips with the truth. How could she—how could all of them—have missed the signs of the police department secretary’s mental unbalance and hidden agenda? How, indeed?

  “Because she never made waves,” Sophie concluded. “She baked us cookies, she was always willing to take on extra work and help out, she was everything and yet nothing.”

  That was probably the crux of the problem, Sophie concluded. Nobody really took Carrie seriously. If they noticed her at all it was to ask her to do more work. Socially, she was disconnected despite her efforts at ingratiation via food or little gifts to selected people.

  In a way, Sophie felt sorry for the woman. She understood feelings of alienation. They had nearly destroyed her during adolescence. If it had not been for turning her fractured life over to God, to Jesus, she didn’t know how she’d have survived.

  And speaking of survival... She spotted Ryder crossing the distance between them. The brim of his cap shaded his eyes but she could already tell he was a man on a mission. Hopefully, his goal was to train a dog, because if he intended to keep probing into her past she was not going to be a happy camper.

  Instead of smiling or greeting her verbally, he stopped at her feet and dropped something small and light into her lap.