“Gunshots in the city limits? Several people called. Maybe all of them.”
He crossed to the door. She was right. Chief Johnson had just reached the bottom of the stairs; another officer followed close behind.
“We’re clear, Chief,” Bobby called.
The man frowned at the sight of him, but nodded and put away his gun before he motioned for the other guy to do the same. The kid—young and blond—hesitated. Bobby knew the type. Brand-new on the force and just dying to use his gun. In other words, trouble. But after sending an annoyed glance in Bobby’s direction, he did put up the gun.
“You can turn around.”
Bobby glanced over his shoulder as Raye stood then swayed. He dived forward, hands outstretched. He didn’t need her toppling on top of the dead man. Not only would that compromise the crime scene, but she appeared shook up enough already. Falling onto a dead body just might send her over the edge.
“Sit.” He urged her to the sofa, and she let him. When she clung to his hand, he sat at her side.
“He’s dead now,” she said. “He wasn’t before.”
Bobby didn’t know what to say to that. Both statements seemed fairly obvious. But people in shock said strange things.
Chief Johnson came into the apartment. “What happened?”
“I came home,” Raye said before Bobby could even open his mouth. If she’d been in shock, she’d come out of it pretty fast. She sounded completely lucid as she continued her recitation.
She’d started to change, saw the door was open, thought it was the wind, discovered it was a maniac. He’d tried to kill her. Bobby had shot him. She left out only one thing.
The guy had tried to kill her once already. Bobby couldn’t figure out how to tell the chief about it now when he hadn’t before.
“Do you know him?” Johnson asked.
Raye shook her head.
“Chief?” They all looked up. A third officer held out an evidence bag. “Found it in his pocket.”
Johnson took the bag, glanced at the contents then handed it to Bobby. Inside was a ring emblazoned with the head of a snarling wolf.
“You’ll need to test this for blood,” Bobby said.
“Ya think?” the chief snapped, then sighed. “Sorry. I’m not…” He shoved his thick fingers through the remaining white tufts of his hair. “Before yesterday, the worst thing I’d had to investigate was a hunting accident.”
“Same principles apply. Work the scene. Connect the dots.”
“I can connect one,” Raye said. “The dead woman in the alley was branded with that ring.”
“How do you know about the brand?” Bobby asked.
“I saw her.”
His frown deepened.
“She was lying in the middle of town. It was kind of hard not to.”
Bobby lifted his gaze to the chief, who shrugged. “A lot of people saw.”
“He planned to kill, then brand me.”
Raye was catching on faster than Johnson, but Bobby wasn’t surprised.
“Why?” she asked.
“That’s what I’m going to find out.”
“You?” both Raye and Johnson asked at the same time.
Bobby sighed, nodded.
Someone had to.
Chapter 7
Dr. Christiansen arrived, and the chief moved off to talk to him. I could tell Bobby wanted to join them.
As my Puritan stood in the corner, scowling at the dead man as if he’d like to kill him again, I encouraged him to. “Go on. I’ll—”
“You’ll stay right here,” Bobby said. “Crime scene, remember?”
Even though the idea of my apartment as such was nearly impossible to get my mind around despite the dead guy in the living room, I nodded.
“As soon as I finish, I’ll take you…” he paused, then shrugged. “Away from here.”
I doubted he’d take me as far away as I wanted to go, which was Nebraska. But anywhere would be fine. I certainly couldn’t sleep in my apartment tonight, even if they’d let me. I might never sleep in it again.
Bobby joined the others. Low-voiced murmurs commenced. I did my best to ignore them. They only made my head ache. Or maybe that was just phantom pain from a narrowly averted meat cleaver to the brain. Considering where the maniac had been standing and where I’d been lying, I couldn’t figure out how I was still breathing.
My eyes met those of my Puritan, who continued to hover in the corner, gaze steady on me.
Then again, maybe I could.
I wanted to talk to him. But he’d no doubt disappear as soon as I tried. As if I could talk to the empty corner with all these people around.
My cell phone began to ring from somewhere in my bedroom—my father’s ring tone, “If I Had a Hammer.” I wasn’t surprised he’d heard already there was trouble, what surprised me was that it had taken this long.
I started to rise, and Bobby lifted a hand, pointed a finger at the couch, then went into the other room himself. He came out with my purse, which he handed to me before returning to the meeting near the dead body.