Ranger's Justice

by Lara Lacombe

  “Please?” Quinn said. “I’ll sleep better if I’m next to you.”

  Her heart flip-flopped in her chest and she was lost. “Okay,” she said, nodding her acceptance. “But only because I want you to get your rest.”

  Quinn’s smile lit up the room. He moved carefully, scooting over to one side of the mattress. He lifted the sheet and wriggled his eyebrows in invitation. “It’s not the Ritz, but at least the place is clean.”

  Rebecca toed off her shoes and slid into the bed beside him. Her hair and skin felt gritty with desert sand, but she was too tired to care. Quinn fit his body around hers, his chest against her back, his warmth seeping into her bones. She relaxed with a sigh, reveling in the simple pleasure of stretching out on a mattress after a sleepless night and long day.

  “Perfect.” Quinn’s sigh was soft in her ear. “Just what I needed.”

  Me, too, she thought. She opened her mouth to respond, but sleep beckoned her like a long-lost friend. She closed her eyes and surrendered to its pull with a sigh.

  * * *

  He strode down the hall of the hospital, feeling more confident by the moment. At this time of day the halls were mostly empty—visiting hours were long over, so only staff members were around to see him. No one gave him a second look as he walked, and why should they? With his blue scrubs and white coat, he looked like he belonged there.

  He moved with confidence, nodding as he passed various nurses and doctors. He’d learned long ago the best way to blend in was to act naturally, and he was a pro. The fact that people were seeing his face didn’t bother him; nothing about his appearance stood out, and his behavior was unremarkable. Tomorrow, when the police were here interviewing potential witnesses, no one would think to talk about him. He was like the wallpaper—present, but forgotten as soon as you looked away.

  It didn’t take long to find Gallagher’s room. The place wasn’t that big to begin with, and he was one of only three patients on the floor. But rather than head straight for his target, he stopped at the nurses’ station at the far end of the hall.

  “Hello.” He smiled pleasantly as he slid the box he carried onto the counter. “We had a patient’s family drop these off about an hour ago, and figured we might share the wealth.”

  The woman behind the desk eyed his offering with curiosity. “What is it?” She stood and reached for the lid.

  “Doughnuts,” he said. “Said they got them at the grocery store. They’re actually pretty good if you warm them up a bit first.”

  “Thanks a lot,” she said, smiling at him. “It’s almost time for my break, and this will be a nice treat.”

  “Want me to put them in your break room?” he offered.

  She shook her head. “I’ll do it.” She glanced at the monitors behind the desk, then reached for the box. “Be right back.”

  “Take your time,” he said. “I can hold down the fort.”

  He waited until she was halfway down the hall before making his move. He headed for Gallagher’s room and slipped inside, his hand going to his waistband and the knife he had sheathed there. Quinn had gotten away the first time. He wasn’t going to be so lucky now.

  He approached the bed and drew up short at the sight that greeted him. Gallagher wasn’t alone—there was a woman lying next to him. He squinted in the dim light, trying to make out her face.

  It’s the FBI agent, he realized with a small shock. The woman who had interrupted him last night.

  He hadn’t planned on attacking Quinn last night. He’d been out walking the trail, scouting for a good spot to leave his next victim. But when he’d seen Gallagher alone on the path, he hadn’t been able to pass up the opportunity to hurt him. He wanted Quinn to feel pain, to suffer as he’d been doing for the past few years. He’d acted on instinct, lashing out, even though killing Quinn would mean the end of his fun.

  Anger filled him at the memory of the woman’s interference. Gallagher had been on the ropes—they’d both known it. A few more strikes, and Quinn would have been bleeding to death in the dirt, like he deserved. But she’d ruined everything.

  He tightened his grip on the handle of his knife, anticipation thrumming through his veins. He hadn’t foreseen this development, but he wasn’t disappointed. The prospect of killing Quinn had kept him motivated all day, making him smile whenever he imagined it. The fact that he was also going to take care of that meddling bitch was just the icing on the cake.

  He slipped the knife free of its sheath as he studied the sleeping pair. They looked so peaceful, completely oblivious to their fate. Which one should he dispatch first? Quinn, or the woman? Either way, he had to be quick about it. He couldn’t have them waking up and sounding the alarm while he worked.

  The woman, he decided. She was closest to him, the easiest target. He’d cut her throat and then do the same to Quinn, leaving them to bleed out in each other’s arms.

  How romantic. And exactly what Quinn deserved, after taking his woman away from him.

  He reached for her, but just before he made contact with her hair, inspiration struck. He could kill both of them now, that much was true. But it would be so much more satisfying to make the moment last. If he acted now, it would all be over too quickly. He wouldn’t be able to savor the justice of it all, to see the anguish in Quinn’s eyes as he watched the woman he loved die while he sat there helpless.

  He smiled as a new plan took shape in his mind. He’d have to be patient, but he’d waited this long. What was a few more days, especially when the payoff would be so sweet?

  He returned the knife to its sheath and took a step back. Quinn stirred, briefly opening his eyes. He made a small sound, but the room was dark and the man knew Gallagher didn’t recognize him.

  “Just checking on you,” the man said easily. “Is this your wife?”

  “Not yet,” Quinn mumbled. His arm tightened around the woman as he fell back to sleep.

  A swell of satisfaction rose in his chest. Oh, yes. Much better to wait to kill them.

  He backed out of the room, being careful to move quietly so as not to disturb them. Now that he had the makings of a new plan, he didn’t want to risk detection. He gave the couple one last look at the door.

  “Enjoy your time together,” he whispered. “It won’t last long.”

  Chapter 14

  Rebecca woke suddenly, transitioning from sleep to consciousness so quickly it was disorienting.

  She sat up, blinking as she took in her surroundings. Hospital room. Her shoes on the floor.

  Quinn.

  She turned to find him sleeping peacefully next to her, his big body stretched out on the thin mattress. He had to be uncomfortable, lying near the edge of the bed like that, but he didn’t stir. A rush of love nearly stole her breath as she realized he’d held her all night. Even in sleep, even while injured, he took care of her.

  How did I get so lucky?

  She eased herself off the bed, trying not to jostle him. She could use a lot more sleep, but she heard voices in the hall and knew the nurses and doctors would be making their rounds soon. She wasn’t ashamed to have slept next to Quinn all night, but she didn’t want anyone else to know about it. That was a private, special time between them, something she would always cherish. She didn’t want to share it with the staff.

  Her phone buzzed just as she settled into the recliner in the corner. A glance at the display told her it was the police chief calling.

  “Yes?” She spoke quietly as she pushed herself up and headed for the door. Quinn needed to sleep as long as possible—she didn’t want to be the one to wake him up.

  “We found Harry.”

  Rebecca slipped into the hall and leaned against the wall. Something in the man’s tone told her this wasn’t a good development.

  “You don’t sound happy about it,” she said.

  “He’s dead.”
/>   Rebecca swore a blue streak. The police chief sighed softly. “That was my reaction, too,” he said.

  “Where, when and how?” she asked. She knew she was being rude, but she was too frustrated to care about manners right now.

  “His parents found him this morning. The how and when are a bit tougher to answer. His mother said she heard him come in late last night, but didn’t know the time.”

  “Any signs of foul play?”

  “No. Looks like he came home drunk, passed out and asphyxiated on his own vomit. Still, we’ll have to wait for the coroner’s report for the final pronouncement, but there are no obvious signs of injury aside from some scratches on his arms.”

  Rebecca’s thoughts swirled as she considered the chief’s words. Quinn had said he’d gotten a few swipes in with his spade, which would explain the scratches on Harry’s arms. But what had killed him? Had he been overcome by guilt after murdering yet another woman and decided to take his own life?

  Probably not. In her interview with Harry, she hadn’t detected any signs of empathy or consideration for the victims. It was unlikely he’d suddenly grown a conscience.

  “I do have some good news, though,” the chief offered.

  “I’ll take it,” Rebecca said. Maybe they’d found the murder weapon by his body, or some other evidence tying him to the crimes...

  “We know who the latest victim is,” the man said. “Her name is Olivia Parsons. She and some friends had set up camp in the park, a couple miles away from where you found her body. According to her friends, she’d gotten up to use the bathroom in the middle of the night. They realized this morning she hadn’t returned, and alerted the park rangers as soon as they could.”

  “Have you notified her family yet?”

  “That’s my next call,” the chief said. She heard the note of reluctance in his voice and knew he wasn’t looking forward to that conversation. It was never easy to be the bearer of such difficult news, and she didn’t envy him his job.

  “I’m glad we know her name,” Rebecca said, picturing the woman’s body as she’d last seen it. Olivia hadn’t deserved to die, especially not in such a violent way. The waste of it all fueled Rebecca’s anger, but that was a useless emotion. With Harry gone, there was nothing she could do to bring the man to justice. She hoped the families of the victims would take comfort in the fact the killer was dead, but Rebecca wanted more. She wanted him to experience a lifetime of punishment, to spend every moment aware of his loss of freedom, to know he would never again enjoy the simple pleasures in life.

  But it was not to be.

  “Good work, chief,” Rebecca said. “You and your department have done an outstanding job on this investigation.”

  “Thank you.” There was a note of surprise in his voice, as if he hadn’t expected the compliment. “My team has been working round-the-clock.”

  “I appreciate the assistance.”

  “I would say it’s been our pleasure, but that’s not exactly the case.”

  Rebecca smiled, understanding him perfectly. “I know what you mean. I’ll try to stop by your office today to wrap up any loose ends.”

  “See you then.”

  She ended the call and slipped the phone back into her pocket. For the first time in days, she felt at a loss for what to do next. With the death of her prime suspect, it seemed like her investigation had come to a sudden and unexpected end. Where did that leave her now?

  And what did that mean for her and Quinn? She still had a bit of work to do to definitively link Harry to the initial murder victims. But once that was done, she’d no longer have a reason for staying in town. She’d known she and Quinn would eventually have to have The Talk—where their relationship was going, whether they would try to stay together after she went back to Virginia, that kind of thing. But she hadn’t thought the issue would come to a head so soon. She’d wanted to go into the discussion with her mind made up about what she wanted for their next steps. Instead, she was still processing her feelings, trying to figure out the best plan. She felt like a student who’d been caught without her homework, and she wasn’t happy about it.

  A woman in a white coat approached Quinn’s room. “Are you family of the patient?”

  “I’m not related to him,” Rebecca replied. “But we’re close.” That seemed like the best way to summarize their relationship at the moment. She hoped the doctor would speak to her about Quinn’s condition, even though she had no blood or legal connection to him.

  “What’s your name?” the woman asked.

  “Rebecca Wade.”

  The doctor nodded, as if she’d suspected this. “I’m Dr. Allen. I was the attending on call when Mr. Gallagher came in yesterday. He mentioned your name, said we could speak to you regarding his condition.”

  Rebecca nodded, appreciating his foresight. It seems she needn’t have worried—once again, Quinn had thought of everything. “Is he going to be okay?”

  Dr. Allen nodded. “Yes. But he’s quite lucky. The stab injuries were mostly superficial, and the ones that are deep didn’t penetrate his abdominal wall. He lost quite a bit of blood thanks to the number of cuts, but he should make a full recovery.”

  Rebecca’s mood lightened as the weight of worry dissolved away. Quinn had told her as much yesterday, but it was good to hear the doctor confirm his words. “I’m so happy to hear that.”

  The woman smiled. “He’s going to need to take things easy for the foreseeable future. He doesn’t strike me as the type to willingly rest, so you’ll probably have to be the bad guy and insist upon it.”

  “I can do that,” Rebecca assured her. Quinn wouldn’t be happy about the forced break, but she’d do her best to keep him from overdoing it.

  “Good,” replied the doctor. “I’m going to check his stitches, and if everything looks good, I’ll clear him for release today.”

  “Okay. I think I’ll stay out here while you do that.” Rebecca had no desire to see Quinn’s injuries again, especially not under the bright lights of the hospital room. She’d seen quite enough of his blood already, and didn’t need another reminder of the pain he’d endured.

  Dr. Allen’s eyes took on a knowing gleam. “I won’t be long.” She disappeared into the room, leaving Rebecca in the hall, alone with her thoughts once more.

  * * *

  “This is unnecessary,” Quinn grumbled. “I’m perfectly capable of walking on my own.”

  Rebecca ignored his protest and slipped her arm around his torso, supporting some of his weight as they started up the stairs to his apartment.

  He tried again. “I know the doctor said I had to relax, but don’t you think this is taking things a bit far?”

  “Nope,” she replied. “The last thing I need is for you to fall down the stairs and reopen your wounds or break your leg.”

  She had a good point, but he was too proud to acknowledge it. Truth be told, he did feel a bit shaky on his feet but he’d never admit that. He didn’t want Rebecca to feel like she had to take care of him. She’d done enough of that already, and he knew she was exhausted. If he pretended all was normal, he might be able to convince her to return to her hotel and get some rest. At the very least, maybe she’d agree to take a nap in his bed. It would be nice to have his sheets smell like her again...

  They made it down the hall and stopped in front of his door. Had it really been only two days since he’d been here? It seemed like an eternity had passed since he’d packed their bags for Rebecca’s reconnaissance mission. Now he was back, bruised and battered and feeling thoroughly wrung out. Maybe next time he should trust his instincts...

  He unlocked the door and headed for the couch, collapsing onto the cushions with a sigh. Rebecca closed the door behind him and came to stand by his feet. “Can I get you anything?”

  “A beer?” he asked hopefully. He wasn’t a big drinker, but it see
med like a good way to celebrate surviving an attack by a knife-wielding serial killer.

  Rebecca shook her head. “I don’t think alcohol will mix well with the pain pills your doctor sent home with you.”

  “Likely not.” He shrugged and leaned back, propping his feet on the coffee table.

  “How about some water instead?”

  “I’m fine,” he said, waving away her offer. “You don’t need to wait on me.”

  “I don’t mind,” she said. “It’s the least I can do, seeing as how I feel responsible for this whole situation.”

  Quinn looked up at her, one eyebrow lifted. “Were you the one who stabbed me the other night?”

  “No.” She lifted a hand to stave off his reply. “But if I hadn’t insisted on spying on Harry and his friends, you wouldn’t have been attacked.”

  “It wasn’t fun,” he admitted. “But maybe it all worked out for the best. Now that Harry is dead...” He trailed off, thinking of all the women the man had killed. “Well, at the very least, the women in the area should be a lot safer now.” Rebecca had told him about Harry’s death in the car, but it still wasn’t clear how the young man had died. Maybe it was wrong of him, but Quinn couldn’t bring himself to care about the killer. Death from overdose, alcohol poisoning, accident—it didn’t matter, so long as he was gone and his rampage was over.

  He still had a hard time thinking of Harry as the murderer. Not because the young man had been such a paragon of virtue. But from what Quinn had seen, Harry wasn’t much of a hiker. He’d certainly had the strength to overpower a woman, but would he have really wanted to hike with them first?

  “Speaking of Harry,” Rebecca said, interrupting his thoughts. She let out a small sigh, a shadow crossing her face. “I need to stop by the police station and talk to the chief. There are a few things I need to discuss with him to close out the case.”

  “No problem.” A pang of disappointment speared his chest at her mention of closing the case, and he immediately felt guilty. He should be happy the murderer was gone and there would be no more victims, but a selfish part of him understood that Rebecca would be leaving soon. He wasn’t ready to say goodbye to her, not when there was so much left unsaid between them.