Good evening, Deputy Tucker. This isn’t over. I want what you took from this house. I will get it back even if someone else gets hurt in the process.
Sydney stared at the cell-phone screen.
What was the sender talking about? She didn’t take anything from this house. And how did he know she was here and would answer Dixon’s phone?
Had he followed them? Was he outside now…watching?
“What’s it say, Syd?” Russ crossed the space and dropped down next to her. He looked at the message and she heard him draw in a quick breath before jumping to his feet.
“Stay here,” he commanded, and raced to the door. Gun in hand, he eased onto the porch, pulling the door closed behind him.
Wait. The text said if someone got hurt in the process. He didn’t say if she got hurt. Did that mean he’d hurt people she cared about instead? Maybe even Russ?
She looked at the message again. But there it was right in front of her. His warning. This wasn’t over and may not end before someone else died at the hands of this madman.
SUSAN SLEEMAN
grew up in a small Wisconsin town where she spent her summers reading Nancy Drew and developing a love of mystery and suspense books. Today, she channels this enthusiasm into hosting the popular internet website TheSuspenseZone.com and writing romantic suspense and mystery novels.
Much to her husband’s chagrin, Susan loves to look at everyday situations and turn them into murder and mayhem scenarios for future novels. If you’ve met Susan, she has probably figured out a plausible way to kill you and get away with it.
Susan currently lives in Florida, but has had the pleasure of living in nine states. Her husband is a church music director and they have two beautiful daughters, a very special son-in-law and an adorable grandson. To learn more about Susan, please visit www.SusanSleeman.com.
Behind the Badge
Susan Sleeman
And we know that in all things
God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose.
—Romans 8:28
Dedication
For my husband, Mark, who always believes in me
and is by my side through good times and bad. I couldn’t do any of this without you.
Acknowledgments
Heartfelt thanks to:
My daughters, Erin and Emma,
for their tremendous support. Thank you, Emma, for giving of your time to help brainstorm plot changes and thank you, Erin, for the graphic-design expertise that is at the heart of my promotional efforts.
My patient, sweet and talented editor, Tina James.
Thank you for continuing to have faith in my stories. I am thrilled to be working with and learning from you.
The very generous Ron Norris—
retired police officer with the LaVerne Police Department—who gives of his time and knowledge in both police procedures, as well as weapons information. Ron, you are amazing! Any errors in or liberties taken with the technical details Ron so patiently explained to me are all my doing.
Sandra Robbins,
who always has a smile in her voice and encouragement in her heart. Thanks for being my supporter at all times. God has blessed me with your friendship.
And most importantly, thank You, God,
for my faith and for giving me daily challenges to grow closer to You.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
EPILOGUE
LETTER TO READER
QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION
ONE
Gunshots split the inky darkness.
Deputy Sydney Tucker hit the cold ground, a jagged rock slashing into her forehead on the way down. She reached for her service weapon. Came up empty-handed. She’d stopped after work to check on the construction of her town house and left her gun and cell phone in the car.
Dumb, Sydney. Really dumb. Now what’re you gonna do?
Inching her head above knee-high grass, she listened. The keening whistle of the wind died, leaving the air damp and heavy with tension. Silence reigned.
Had she overreacted? Could be nighttime target practice. Hunters did crazy things sometimes.
Footfalls pounded from below. It sounded like two people charging through the brush. Maybe a chase. Then she heard a loud crash and branches snapping.
“What’re you doin’, man?” A panicked male voice traveled through the night. “No! Don’t shoot! We can work this out.”
Three more gunshots rang out. A moan drifted up the hill.
Not target practice. Someone had been shot.
Sydney lurched to her feet, dizziness swirling through her. Blood dripped into her eyes. She wiped it away, blinked hard and steadied herself on a large rock while peering into the wall of darkness for the best escape route.
Heavy footfalls crunched up the gravel path.
“I know you’re here, Deputy Tucker,” a male voice, disguised with a high, nasal pitch, called out. “We need to talk about this. C’mon out.”
Yeah, right. Come out and die. Not hardly.
Praying, pleading for safety, she scrambled deeper into the scrub. Over rocks. Through grass tangling her feet. Her heart pounded in her head, drowning the prayers with fear.
“I’m losing patience, Deputy,” he called again in that strange voice. “You’re not like Dixon. He had it coming. You don’t.”
Dixon? Did he mean the man she’d arrested for providing alcohol to her teenage sister and for selling drugs? Was that what this was about?
Rocks skittered down the incline. The shooter was on the move again. No time to think. She had to go. Now!
Blindly she felt her way past shrubs, over uneven ground. Dried leaves crunched underfoot. Branches slapped her face and clawed at her arms, but she stifled her cries of pain.
“I hear you, Deputy.”
She wrenched around to determine his location.