far left wall, she walked toward it, noticing the freshly mounded dirt and large pile of bricks next to it. “Weird,” she muttered. She glanced over her shoulder, straining to hear, hoping that backup would soon arrive.
A scuffle against the dirt swung her attention to the left. “Who’s there?”
No answer.
“This is Detective Jade Hollis. Show yourself!”
Movement caught the corner of her eye, and Jade spun, only to be greeted with a glancing blow to the side of her head and a hard shove that sent her stumbling backward against the empty spindles. Pain shot through her as pounding footsteps faded.
With a groan, Jade rolled and fumbled for her radio.
Private investigator Bryce Kingsley hadn’t planned to be in the patrol car when the call came in. He’d planned to return to Cedar Canyon and open his own PI business—an idea his sister and therapist had wholeheartedly approved of.
But when his high school buddy and journalist, Frank Shipman, had asked him to put the PI business on hold for a short time in order to help him with a story he was looking into, Bryce hadn’t been able to say no.
“What’s going on?” he’d asked when Frank had presented him with the idea.
“There are crooked cops on the force protecting those manufacturing and dealing drugs. I need your help to figure out which cops.”
According to Frank’s sources, there’d been two attempted stings. The first place had been emptied out before they got there. The second time was an ambush. One DEA agent, Cooper Peterson, had been killed during the second sting.
“People know you in this town,” Frank had said. “They know you disappeared for a while, so when you come back, they’re going to be curious, but they won’t expect you to be undercover.”
Bryce got it.
“Cops don’t trust reporters. I’m not saying they don’t have good reasons for that, but truly, I’m not trying to hurt the honest cops. I want to take down the dirty one—or ones. Just pretend like you’re trying to decide if you want to be a cop, and no one’s going to protest you riding along with them.”
The truth was, he’d love to be a cop, but with part of his leg missing, that wasn’t going to happen.
“Frank—” He’d stopped. It could work. No one would know about his prosthesis unless he told them—or lost his balance doing something stupid. “That’s not why I’m coming home. I...have amends to make.” Jade’s pretty face had flashed to the forefront of his mind. And then his sister’s.
“All I’m asking is that you arrange for the ride-alongs and see if you notice anything suspicious. If not, fine, but something’s going on with the police and a local drug ring, and I need help figuring out what—and who—is involved.”
“Well, I—”
“Seriously, your job would be to keep your eyes and ears open. Make note of anything that looks suspicious. That’s it.”
Bryce had given up trying to argue. The truth was, his adrenaline had started to flow at the thought of the new challenge.
And so here he was. Fake leg and all. The lower half of his left leg just below the knee sported a high-tech prosthesis thanks to an IED he’d run into six months after he’d deployed. He’d finally accepted it as part of who he was now. Finally. Most days.
Bryce shook his head even as Officer Dylan Fitzgerald spun the wheel and turned in to the parking lot of the old mill. The headlights cast two strips of light onto the building, and he shivered. It was as spooky as he remembered from his teen years. Wipers battled the snow falling, and Bryce thought they were having a harder time of clearing the windshield than they had just ten minutes ago.
From his seat, he peered at the mill. The place should have been demolished years ago. However, the historical society members had screeched at the top of their lungs about wanting to have the building placed on the registry for historical landmarks. He had no idea whether they’d done that or not, and frankly, didn’t care. At the moment, his only concern was the fact that his former friend, Jade Hollis, had called for backup. Former friend? No, she’d been more. Much more. Only he’d discovered it too late to do anything about it. Two weeks before he’d deployed overseas, he’d gone to tell his sister goodbye at her college. Jade had been Kristy’s roommate and her grandmother had passed away that day. He’d found her crying, meant to comfort her and had wound up sharing one unintentional night they both regretted the next morning. But it was then he’d realized just how much Jade meant to him. Too late. “Is she all right?” he asked, reaching for the door handle and shoving aside the memories.
“I’m going to find out,” Dylan said. He pointed at Bryce. “You stay put.”
“We’ve been over this. I’ve got training. I can handle myself.” Bryce had signed a waiver absolving the department of any harm he might come to, so instead of arguing, Dylan rolled his eyes.
“Then bring that flashlight. We might need it,” the man said.
Bryce grabbed the light and followed Dylan to the door just as a noise from the end of the building caught his attention. A figure dove out of a broken window, rolled to his feet and sprinted into the wooded area behind the mill.
“You see that?” Bryce asked.
“I did.” He took off after the person. “Check on Jade! And watch your back!”
Bryce bolted toward the opening and stepped inside, keeping one hand on the weapon at his side. He flipped the light on and swept it around the interior. “Jade?”
“Back here.” Her voice reached him, sounding weak, shaky.
He hurried to her, keeping an eye on the surrounding area in case the person who’d run had company. Bryce rounded the end of the spindle row to see Jade on the floor, holding her head. Blood smeared a short path down her cheek. “You’re hurt!” For a moment, she simply stared up at him, complete shock written across her features. “Jade? Hello?” He waved a hand in front of her eyes.
She blinked. “Bryce?”
“Hi.” He glanced over his shoulder, then swung the beam of the flashlight over the rest of the interior. When he didn’t see anyone else, he focused back on Jade. The shock hadn’t faded.
“You’re here?”
“Yeah. This wasn’t exactly the way I wanted to let you know I was coming home, but—”
“What are you doing here?”
“Can we discuss that later? Let’s focus on you and the fact you’re bleeding from a head wound.”
“I... I’m all right. It was a glancing blow, but it made me see stars for a few seconds.”
“Did you get a look at who it was?”
“No. I thought you were in Afghanistan. Or dead. Or something.”
“Nope. None of the above.” He paused. “Well, the ‘or something’ might be accurate.” He could understand her shock. It had been six years since they’d seen each other—and that hadn’t gone exactly well. “Anyone else here?”
“I don’t think so.”
A car door slammed. Blue lights whirled through the broken windows and bounced off the concrete-and-brick walls. Bryce helped her to her feet. “Let’s get that head looked at.”
“Wait.” He could see her pulling herself together, the shock of his appearance fading. “I need to take a look at something.”
He frowned. “Okay.” She slipped away from him and went to the old trunk next to the wall. He stayed with her, and when