“I’m okay,” Jessie said. “You both know how I get when I see blood. That’s the only reason I passed out. It got to me, but I’m fine now. You can both relax.”
“I’m not worried about you passing out,” Olivia said. “You were attacked a few blocks from here!”
Jessie’s gaze fell on Higgins. He was lying beneath the window and hadn’t stirred. “You can thank Higgins for saving my life,” she said. “Higgins went right for the man’s arm, the one holding the knife, and he wouldn’t let go.”
“He’s a good dog,” Olivia agreed. “I gave him extra treats. He’s worn-out, but I think he’s okay.” Olivia crossed her arms. “Now stop trying to change the subject.”
“Eat something,” Colin cut in, nudging Jessie along until she took a seat and ate a spoonful of chicken soup.
Olivia couldn’t let it go. She came around the other side of the couch, took a seat next to her, and read from her notebook. “You said your attacker was Caucasian, midthirties, intense blue eyes, and he had a bite out of his right ear.”
Jessie swallowed another spoonful of soup. She was hungrier than she’d thought.
“Do you think the attack has anything to do with your missing person investigation?” Olivia asked next.
“I doubt it. Arlo and Zee live in Woodland, twenty minutes away,” Jessie reminded her. She’d filled Colin in on the way home, told him all about the report Olivia was doing on Sherlock Holmes and how she suddenly had a newfound passion for investigative work. “Besides,” Jessie went on, “Zee’s case isn’t high profile, and she’s run away before.”
“So?”
“So, it’s highly unlikely anyone would know or care if I was helping Arlo Gatley search for his daughter. I think there’s a good chance that without her medication, Zee got confused and is now lost or staying with a friend.”
Olivia frowned. “If you really believe that, then why did we blow up that picture and take it door-to-door?”
“Because I was hoping someone would recognize the man in the picture. Maybe Zee is staying with him but doesn’t want her father to know, for whatever reason.”
“You two should talk about this later, after Jessie has eaten and gotten some rest,” Colin said.
“You don’t need to mother me,” Jessie told him.
“Agree to disagree,” he said.
When Jessie saw the scowl on Olivia’s face, she set her spoon down and said, “Listen, you’re right. It’s perfectly reasonable for you to deduce that I was being followed by someone connected to a case I’m working on.”
“Thank you,” Olivia said, looking smug.
“But,” Jessie continued, “if the attack was not connected to Zee, then maybe it had something to do with Parker Koontz.” Jessie thought about what Adelind Rain had told her about the call she’d received in the middle of the night. The nurse at the hospital had assured Jessie that Koontz was in a coma. Following that path, if it was true that the attack was connected to Koontz, then that would mean someone else was making phone calls and possibly wanted her out of the picture completely.
But who?
David Roche’s name popped into her head, but she knew that wasn’t fair. She had no evidence whatsoever that he would want to do her physical harm. She didn’t like him, but that didn’t make him evil.
The ring of Colin’s phone brought all thoughts and conversation to a halt. When Colin disconnected the call, Jessie could tell by the concerned expression that something was going on. “What happened?”
“Andriana,” he said. “An armed man broke into her house, tied her up, and then ransacked her home.”
“Is she okay?” Jessie asked, her mind swirling with speculation.
“She’s shook up. She’ll be fine. I’m going to head over there now.”
Jessie started to stand up.
Colin pointed a finger at her and gave her one of his looks. “Don’t even think about it.”
Ben stood on the dirt road, looking down over the edge of the same steep slope where first responders had found him unconscious ten years ago. According to the police report, the weather had been extraordinarily warm then, as it was now. Ben had escaped the burning vehicle, but not before suffering third-degree burns over more than half his body. He’d also ended up with broken ribs, multiple fractures in his foot and legs, and a traumatic brain injury.
Beyond the hill was a steep embankment, a ravine full of trees with lots of dry, overgrown brush and weeds. A thick tangle of vigorously growing blackberry shrubs covered much of the land. They appeared so unruly, he wondered if he would have survived had he rolled past the tree and into the gorge.
He looked at the skull ring on his finger. He’d been wearing it since he’d met with Leanne Baxter. He closed his eyes and saw the same image as before—a hand, flesh melting off bone, splayed fingers, the ring. He waited for the sharp pain in his head that usually accompanied the images.
Nothing happened.
He opened his eyes. Still nothing. Ever since talking to Leanne, he’d been having a difficult time coming to terms with the truth. Vernon Doherty, the driver on the night of Ben’s crash, was the same man who had followed Sophie as she exited the Wild West. And that meant Ben had to be “the other man” Leanne had seen that night.
The notion greatly disturbed him.
For ten years he’d tried to find a connection between himself, Vernon Doherty, and the stolen car, but he’d ended up with nothing. Thanks to his wife and his therapist, he’d finally been able to let the matter go and move on with his life. But seeing Sophie Cole on TV had changed everything. And standing here now, he had new questions: What had really happened that night ten years ago? Why had he been at the Wild West, and what the hell had happened to Sophie Cole?
Ben stepped forward, heading farther down the hill, hoping to conjure images from that night. He slid most of the way down, kicking up dust and dirt, until he made it to the oak. From there he had a better view of the ravine and the brown hills and trees beyond.
He stood there for a good long while.
But nothing came to him.
Not until he started the trek back up and found himself on his knees when the slope became too steep. He grabbed on to a clump of weeds to help him gain traction, and that was when it hit him.
He squeezed his eyes shut, waited for the pain to subside, but that didn’t happen. The pain grew in intensity, forcing him to roll onto his back, the palms of his hands clutching both sides of his head.
And there she was, plain as day.
Sophie Cole.
She was kneeling on the ground, hovering over someone. When she looked up at him, her beauty took him aback—flawless skin, piercing eyes, thick, shiny hair. She didn’t appear to be worried about the person lying on the ground, just curiously surprised. Her head tilted slightly, and she said, “I think he’s dead.”
Five minutes after leaving Jessie, Colin was climbing out of his car in front of Andriana’s house in East Sacramento. There were three cruisers at the scene. A uniformed police officer joined him and walked at his side. “It looks like the suspect came through the garage door at the side of the house. No fingerprints. We’re in the process of canvasing the neighborhood for witnesses.”
Colin nodded. “Where is she?”
“Inside. Ren is with her.”
Colin found Andriana in the living room, sitting on a vintage purple-velvet love seat. Ren Howe, rookie investigator and pain-in-the-ass kid who wouldn’t know tact if it bit him on the nose, saw him coming and met him halfway.
Ren’s father worked for the FBI, which had allowed Ren to skip more than a few years of training, making him an easy target for officers who felt as if they were overlooked for the investigative position. It didn’t help that Ren seemed to be oblivious to anyone who had a problem with his speedy climb to the top. “She didn’t want to talk to anyone but you,” Ren said with a long sigh.
“Do you have a problem with that?”
Ren gave a half shrug. “No, I guess not.”