“Okay.” Kaine was grateful for the human connection. She bent, straining to reach the keychain.
A movement out of Kaine’s peripheral vision caught her attention. Two large hands smacked against the rear window, and a man’s body lunged over the trunk. A scream ripped from Kaine’s throat. Olive’s wild barking filled the car as the dog leaped over the seat toward the back window. Kaine pushed the locks repeatedly, making sure the car was secure. Her foot kicked her keys under the brake pedal. She shifted her reach and grabbed the can of bear spray from beneath her seat. The highly compressed pepper spray she’d bought from the local outfitters store was guaranteed to blind someone and was illegal to use on a human in the state of Wisconsin. Kaine didn’t care.
The 911 operator’s voice was calling to her.
Kaine twisted in her seat, catching sight of the man in her side mirror. Two blood-red handprints were impressed onto the Jetta’s rear window. She screamed at the sight, causing Olive’s barks to turn vicious.
The man’s unidentifiable silhouette paused, then dashed away.
“Ma’am! Ma’am!” The operator’s voice grew louder.
“I’m here,” Kaine answered, straining to see out the window into the darkness where the man had disappeared. Olive continued her aggressive lunges at the back window.
Sirens sounded in the distance.
“Oh, thank you, Jesus,” Kaine whimpered.
Olive returned to the front seat and nuzzled Kaine’s shoulder, a whine coming from deep in her throat.
“Are the police there?” the operator asked.
“They’re coming up the drive now. A man, he just jumped on my car. There’s paint on my car’s back window.” Kaine looked in her rearview mirror. She hoped it was paint. Oh God, please let it be the same paint as the house graffiti.
Handprints, like bloody omens, streaked down the glass.
Chapter 27
There was never a more welcome sight than Grant pointing to Kaine as an officer stood between him and her car. Kaine wrapped her arms around herself, the fleece she wore failing to stop her shivers. Whatever Grant said made the officer step aside, and he sprinted over to Kaine. Without a word, he pulled her into his chest. She buried her face in his sweatshirt. The smell of his laundry detergent was mixed with woodsmoke from his stove and a comforting hint of dog.
“I heard the sirens. Why on earth are you here in the middle of the night?” Grant placed his hands on the sides of her face and searched her eyes.
“I couldn’t find my motel key and thought I’d maybe left it here. I was just going to quick run in and grab it.” Kaine turned her cheek so he would release her, and she rested it on his shoulder. Drawing a deep breath, she tried to stabilize her tremors and gather her wits. Grant’s arms tightened. She shouldn’t be so comfortable in his embrace.
“I told you to stay at my place,” he murmured in her ear.
Still shivering, Kaine nodded against his shoulder. “I know, but . . .”
Her hesitation spoke louder than anything she might have said. Grant’s fingers splayed across her back. “Yeah. Got it.” He understood, and she felt his lips plant a light kiss on the top of her head.
Her body continued to tremble as a deep cold settled into her bones. She drew in a breath that shuddered audibly.
“You’re going into shock.” Grant rubbed her arms briskly.
Kaine offered up a shaky laugh. “I am?”
“Yes.” Grant grew more assertive. “Did the paramedics check you out?” He led her to the ambulance.
Kaine shook her head. “They just got here. Literally. When you did.”
Two paramedics were hurrying toward them. Grant recognized one and let his hand slip down and enfold Kaine’s as he greeted him.
“Troy, she’s going into shock.”
“Got it,” Troy acknowledged.
Before Kaine could respond, they’d urged her onto a stretcher and wrapped her in blessedly warm blankets. Pillows were propped under her knees. Grant stepped back as the paramedics hoisted the stretcher into the parked ambulance.
Troy felt her pulse and then snapped his fingers at his partner. “Let’s get her some O2.”
Kaine tried to protest, but within seconds an oxygen mask was positioned over her nose and mouth. Awareness flooded into her, and her vision cleared.
“Just rest now. You’ll be fine,” Grant said, encouraging her from outside the ambulance.
The emergency vehicle was comforting. As Troy checked her blood pressure, she began to relax. But when she closed her eyes, the image of the handprints on the rear window of her car jerked her back to reality.
“Try to relax,” Troy instructed. He felt her pulse again. “You’re normalizing.”
Minutes later, Troy helped Kaine sit up. The oxygen was removed, and her confusion lifted. He gave her a few more moments before helping her off the stretcher.
“Take it slow,” Troy admonished.
Kaine did as she was told. She wasn’t dizzy anymore, yet she had no desire to leave the safety of the ambulance. She bent down with Troy’s help and sat on the back of the ambulance. The police were walking around Foster Hill House and taking samples for evidence. Someone had leashed Olive to a tree, where she nosed the ground but couldn’t disrupt the scene. Grant returned and hoisted himself up next to Kaine.
“They want to ask you some questions.” His voice was gentle.
Kaine tossed him a sheepish glance. “I’m not dying, Grant.”
“I know.” Still calm. Very much in his counselor mode. “But I don’t need you going back into shock.”
Kaine shook her head and pushed hair behind her ear, hoping Grant didn’t see that her hand still trembled. He reached up and took it in his.
An officer approached, notepad in hand. The night sky exaggerated the shadows under his eyes, but she recognized him immediately. “How are you doing, Miss Prescott?”
Kaine offered Detective Carter a wobbly smile. “Sick of me yet?”
The detective shrugged and looked over his shoulder. “Not at all. But, this is unfortunate. For you.”
Kaine leaned against Grant. “I never had this sort of evidence to back up my claims before.” A daffodil certainly didn’t hold the same type of ominous threat as blood-red graffiti.
“Well, after your report of that call you received, and then chatting with Detective Hanson from San Diego, I’d say this is a slap in the face of anyone who’s ignored you.”
Kaine appreciated his acknowledgment. She stared at the paint on the window of the house. Danny.
“I’d like to ask you a few questions, if that’s all right?”
“Of course,” Kaine said. Grant’s arm tightened around her.
“Tell me exactly what you remember.”
Kaine did so. With every recollection, she realized how close she had come to a physical altercation with Danny’s killer.
A policewoman approached them. She carried a bundle in her hand and spoke into Detective Carter’s ear. His eyebrows furrowed, and he took the bundle, turning back to them. Kaine’s gaze dropped to his hands.
“Miss Prescott, were you aware that there was a stolen artifact in your vehicle?” There was no accusation in his voice, but his eyes were sharp and searching.