She ran several yards back up the path, her heart beating so hard and so loud she could hear nothing else. Not her panting breath. Not her feet slamming against the ground. Not Jude running beside her.
Jude.
She skidded to a stop, turning, seeing him on the ground, struggling. Fighting. Winning.
Or losing.
She couldn’t tell which and couldn’t leave him there to fight alone.
She raced back, fishing in her pocket and pulling out her cell phone. She dialed quickly, shouting their location to the 9-1-1 operator.
Something flashed in the sunlight. A knife.
Lacey’s heart nearly stopped, the phone dropping from her hand as she lunged forward and grabbed the blade before it plunged into Jude’s throat.
Blood spurted from her palm and slid down her wrist, but she held on as Jude rolled to the side.
“Lacey! Go!” He shouted the command as he pulled a gun.
She tried, but something snagged her shirt. Pulled her in. The blade of the knife pressed against her neck and she froze.
“Drop the gun.” The hissed command barely registered above Lacey’s throbbing terror, but Jude must have heard. He dropped the gun, kicking it into the undergrowth, his eyes boring into Lacey’s.
What was he trying to tell her?
Did he want her to fight?
Or did he want her hold still and wait for him to do something?
If that was the case, she hoped he would do something soon, because she didn’t think her legs were going to hold her much longer.
“Move.” Lacey was shoved forward, the knife still at her throat. She did what she was told, shuffling toward the undergrowth where Jude had thrown the gun.
Please, Lord, don’t let this guy get his hands on the gun. Please, keep Jude and me safe.
The prayer raced through her mind as the sound of sirens filled the air.
Lacey’s captor cursed under his breath and shoved her forward. She stumbled, landing on her hands and knees, her breath leaving on a gasp of pain.
“Hold it right there.” Jude shouted the command, and Lacey wasn’t sure if it was directed at her or at their attacker.
There was a thud. Another curse.
The knife clattered onto the ground, and Lacey grabbed it, scrambling to her feet, searching for Jude. He was dragging their attacker up, reaching for his ski mask. The man pulled back, slamming his foot into Jude’s thigh.
Jude dropped like a rock, and Lacey raced forward, the knife still in her hand. She thought the masked man would turn on her, maybe try to take the knife or find the gun. Instead, he turned on his heels and ran into the woods, moving so fast it took a moment for Lacey to realize he was gone.
Jude jumped up and gave chase, his limp slowing him as he crashed through the underbrush and disappeared from view, leaving Lacey alone. The sunlight filtered through the trees and washed the world in gold, hiding the violence that had been there.
ELEVEN
Fury masked Jude’s pain as he raced through thick undergrowth and shoved his way through heavy brush. Up ahead, he could hear the crack of branches and a mumbled curse. He was close to his attacker. If his bum legs worked a little better, he’d have caught the guy by now. The thought only added fuel to his rage and made him even more determined to catch their attacker.
Their attacker.
Not just his.
An image of Lacey’s hand closing over the blade of the knife flashed through his mind. Blood spurting from colorful knit. He wanted to ignore it and keep single-mindedly racing toward his goal, but as much as the need to stop the masked knifeman pulled him forward, Lacey pulled him back.
He slowed his pace, scowling as he turned back the way he’d come. He couldn’t leave her bleeding and alone.
“I don’t suppose You want to send some help, God?” He muttered the prayer aloud, knowing God wasn’t going to answer. Why should He? Jude had spent as little time thinking about God as he could during the past years. Sure, he believed, but belief didn’t mean relationship.
It had only been lately that he’d thought that through and realized just how empty his soul was. Work, friends, adventures: they weren’t enough to fill the barren darkness inside.
The sound of breaking branches came from somewhere in front and to the left of him, and Jude froze.
Listening. Waiting. Their attacker returning?
He didn’t think so.
There was no way the guy could have moved fast enough to circle back. Sirens blared somewhere close by. Maybe the cavalry had arrived. Or maybe Lacey had.
He strode forward, catching sight of her pale-blond hair seconds before the scent of rain and flowers filled his nose. “Lacey?”
She screamed, stopping so suddenly she almost fell backward, the knife clenched in her uninjured hand. “You nearly scared me to death.”
“Good. Maybe next time when I tell you to run, you’ll do it.”
“I did run.”
“Yeah, but you didn’t keep going.” He sounded harsher than he intended, and he tried to soften his voice. “You could have been killed, Lacey.”
“You could have been, too.”
“That’s not the point.” He shrugged out of his coat, pulled off his T-shirt and pressed it against Lacey’s bleeding palm.
“Then what is? If I’d lived and you’d died, would that have made it better?”
He didn’t have anything to say to that, so he kept silent, pressing against the wound that still seeped blood, grinding his teeth to keep from lecturing Lacey like he wanted to.
“Has it stopped bleeding?” She tried to pull away, but Jude held firm.
“It’s deep. You’re going to need stitches.”
“I doubt it. It barely hurts.” She tugged again, and this time he let her pull away, watched as she peeled back the T-shirt and looked at the deep slash.
“It’s not so bad.”
“How about we let a doctor decide?” He took the knife she still held and slid his arm around her back, walking her toward the parking lot. Her body trembled, but her breathing was steady, her pace unrushed. She was good under pressure. Better than some cops he’d worked with.
Voices echoed through the trees. The cavalry riding to the rescue too late to do any good. No way would the perpetrator hang around and wait to be caught. The thought only added to Jude’s frustration. He wanted to head back into the woods, chase their attacker down. He’d been so close to seeing the guy’s face. A split second. That was all Jude would have needed. Instead, he’d gotten a swift kick to his left thigh. His bad thigh.
He didn’t think that was an accident. Whoever had attacked them knew where Jude was weakest.
How?
Who?
More questions without answers.
More reason for frustration.
An officer appeared on the path in front of them. Young. Green. His hand hovering over the butt of his gun. “Drop the knife, buddy.”
Jude did what he was told, tossing the weapon onto the ground and frowning at the sight of Lacey’s blood smeared on the blade.
“Good. Now just stay where you are until we figure out exactly what’s going on here.”
“Look, we’re the victims here. The guy who attacked us is heading southwest through the woods.” Jude took a step forward.
“I said stay where you are.” The officer didn’t pull his gun, but Jude could see he was itching to.
Jude stopped, positioning himself between the gung-ho cop and Lacey. “My friend is hurt. I need to take her to the emergency room.”
“I’ll make sure she gets there.”
“Yeah. And while you do, the guy who cut her is getting away.”
“Like I said, we’ll get everything figured out. Ma’am? You want to come over here with me?”
Jude gritted his teeth and kept his mouth shut as Lacey peered out from behind him. “Actually, I’m fine where I am.”
“Can you tell me who hurt you?”
“I didn�
�t see his face.”
“So it wasn’t the gentleman you’re with?”
“Of course it wasn’t him.” She took a step out from behind him, and Jude put a hand on her arm to hold her in place. He wanted to get her out of the woods and to a hospital. He wanted to take her home, wrap her in warm blankets and give her a steaming cup of hot cocoa. He did not want to stand around playing nice with a greenhorn cop who didn’t know a criminal from a victim.
“Let’s sit in my cruiser to discuss it. It’s warmer there.” Separate the feuding parties. It was the typical MO for dealing with domestic-violence cases and exactly what Jude would have done in the same situation, but time was wasting and a knife-wielding killer was getting farther away.
“Look, this isn’t a case of domestic violence. My friend and I were out for a walk and—”
“Everything under control here?” Another officer jogged toward them. Older and probably more experienced, but staring at Jude like he was a roach in need of a good stomping.
“We’ve got one injury. Lady’s hand is bleeding pretty badly. She needs transport to the E.R. She and her friend say a third party attacked her.” But I don’t believe either of them. I think the guy is scum and can’t control his temper. I think he attacked his girl, and she’s afraid to say so.
Jude could almost hear the unspoken words.
“We told you that because that’s what happened.” Lacey sounded as frustrated as Jude felt, and he squeezed her hand.
“We’ll get it all sorted out, ma’am. Why don’t you go with Officer Reynolds while I talk to your friend?”
“I’d rather stay here.”
“You need to get to the hospital. Your friend will join you there as soon he can.” The older police officer eyed Jude while he spoke. “That okay with you, buddy?”
As if Jude actually had a say in it.
He nodded anyway, anxious to move things along. Get back to the hunt and find the guy who’d hurt Lacey. Who would have done a lot worse if he’d had a chance. “It’s fine by me. Listen, I’m a New York City homicide detective. My badge is in my back pocket. The guy who attacked my friend and me is heading through the woods. If we don’t go after him now, we’re not going to find him.”
“One thing at a time. Reynolds, you want to take the lady back to the cars? Call an ambulance to transport her to the hospital. We can get her statement there.”
“Really, I don’t think I need—”
But Officer Reynolds put a hand on Lacey’s shoulder and urged her away before she could finish the thought. She glanced back at Jude as she went, her eyes filled with fear. She looked fragile and scared and so lonely that Jude took a step toward her.
“How about you stay here, Detective…?”
“Sinclair. Jude.”
“Sinclair?”
“That’s right.” The conversation barely registered. Jude was too busy watching Lacey walk away.
“You got any brothers?”
“Several.”
“Any from around here?”
“Grayson and Tristan.”
“Grayson Sinclair the district attorney?”
“That’s right.” Now, can we get back to the problem at hand? Jude bit back the sarcastic question.
“And you’re the brother that nearly had his legs sev—” The officer’s voice trailed off.
“Severed. That would be me.”
“I’m Blake McKnight.” He held out a hand, gave Jude’s a firm shake. “Want to tell me what happened here today?”
“My friend and I were hiking. Some guy charged out of the woods and attacked.”
“You see his face?”
“He was wearing a mask.”
“Height and weight?”
“Six one. Maybe two-twenty.”
“A big guy. Any idea of skin color?”
“He was wearing gloves, long pants and a coat. I didn’t see any skin.”
“It happened here?”
“Farther down the trail. My service revolver is there, too.”
“You fired it?”
“No.”
“I’m going to call in a CSI unit. They’ll collect the evidence. Then you and I will go for a walk, see what we can find. Could be the guy left enough tracks for us to follow.”
“The way he was running, I’m sure he did.” And Jude was anxious to go on the hunt. Searching through the woods for signs a killer had been there beat waiting around for him to strike again. But searching also meant leaving Lacey. She and Officer Reynolds rounded a curve in the path and disappeared from view, and Jude frowned.
“What hospital will my friend be transported to?”
“Lakeview General. Officer Reynolds will make sure she’s okay.”
“I’m sure he will, but it might be good if I was there, too. Lacey is new to town. She might feel more comfortable having someone she knows nearby.”
“You two are dating?” Officer McKnight asked casually, as he used gloved hands to pick up the knife. “Thing is sharp. The guy who attacked you meant business. Did he try to steal anything? Maybe pull off your backpack? Grab your friend’s purse?”
“We’re not dating. And Lacey wasn’t carrying a purse. The guy didn’t go for anything but my throat.”
“Someone has something out for you?” McKnight glanced up from the bag he was placing the knife in.
“More than one person, but I think this might be connected to the hit-and-run in New York.”
“That was what? Three months ago?”
“Two.”
“Seems like someone who wanted you dead wouldn’t have waited two months to finish the job.”
“I was in the hospital for almost a month and spent a week in rehab before I came to Lynchburg. He might not have had an opportunity.” Jude led Officer McKnight to the undergrowth where he’d kicked the gun. “My service revolver is here. The perp never touched it. Mind if I take it with me?”
“It’s evidence.”
“It’s also protection. I think you’ll agree that I need it.” He lifted it and shoved it into his holster, antsy, irritated and ready to go. Not after the perpetrator but after Lacey.
“Today could have been a random crime, Sinclair.”
“It could have been, but I don’t think it was.” He quickly filled Officer McKnight in on the previous night’s events.
McKnight glanced up from the pad he was writing in. “You know I still want to think it’s random, right?”
“It’s not what you want to think that matters.” Jude started back the way they’d come.
“I think you’ve been a cop for a long time, and I think if you say someone is after you, I’ve got no choice but to check it out.”
“Thanks.”
“I also think I need you here helping with the investigation, so wherever you’re going will have to wait.”
“Sorry, I need to be with my friend.”
“The one who isn’t your girlfriend?” He smirked, and Jude had the urge to wipe it off his face.
“Lacey was hired to work as a home-care aide during my recovery. She wouldn’t be here—and wouldn’t be injured—if it wasn’t for me. I need to make sure she’s okay.”
“I get that you’re concerned about her, but you need to be just as concerned about you. The sooner we figure out who attacked you, the better.”
“I can’t leave Lacey alone at the hospital, so whatever you’re going to do to find the guy you’ll have to do without me.” He continued walking, stopping when McKnight dropped a hand on his shoulder.
“I need your input, Sinclair, and the longer it takes to get it, the less likely it will be that we’ll find the person responsible. It’s not just you who is in danger. Lacey is, too. She’s the one in the hospital right now. It might be worse the next time.”
And there would be a next time.
There was no doubt about that.
Jude hesitated, torn between leaving and staying. For now, Lacey was fine, but McKnight was right. If they didn’t find the pe
rson responsible for the attack, she might not stay that way. “Let me call some people. See if I can get someone to go to the hospital with her.”
“Good call, friend.”
It was. Jude knew it, but even as he pulled out his cell phone and dialed, his mind was filled with Lacey. The blood staining her mitten, her hair falling in disarray, her eyes filled with fear.
And for the first time in more years than he cared to admit, he prayed for someone else. His plea lifting up to a God he’d ignored for much too long. A God who had tugged and pulled at Jude’s heart from the time he was old enough to know what salvation meant. A God who held the present and the future in His hand.
A God, Jude realized, he couldn’t ignore any longer.
TWELVE
Lacey hated hospitals; hated the scent of illness and grief that lingered beneath antiseptic and bleach. Hated the sterile atmosphere and the hushed anticipation that filled the air. More than any of those things, she hated the memories that being in hospitals always brought.
Pain. Terror. Betrayal. Loneliness. The sudden, clear understanding that life as she knew it had ended.
Her heart raced with all those things as she settled onto a gurney and waited. The small triage room was as sterile as any hospital’s, the walls painted beige, the floor tiled. There was no clock, of course. More than likely Lacey would sit there alone for hours, waiting for someone to come in and look at the cut on her hand.
She glanced at it, frowning. Her mitten was gone, thanks to the paramedics who’d treated her at the scene, and the cut was covered by thick gauze that was already stained with blood.
Good thing she wasn’t squeamish.
Lacey picked at the tape, lifted the edge of the gauze and frowned again. Another scar to add to the rest. At least she was alive. Jude was alive. Those were both things to thank God for and to concentrate on while she waited in her sterile little prison for the doctor to arrive and inflict massive quantities of pain.
“Way to be positive, Lacey.” She grumbled and stood, then paced across the room, peering out into the hallway.
SB03 - The Defender's Duty Page 10
