Rita Herron

Beneath the Badge


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threw off the covers to run, but suddenly two firm hands gripped her arms. “Shh, Taylor, it’s me. Hayes.”

      She was just about to scream, but the sound of his husky voice registered, and she stifled a sob.

      “I didn’t mean to scare you, but you were sleeping.”

      She relaxed against him, but her heart was still pounding. “I was dreaming about the attack….”

      He smoothed her hair from her cheek, then eased down onto the edge of the bed. “It’s over now. You’re safe.”

      She nodded and forced herself to block out the terrifying images from her nightmare. Despite her efforts, her hand went to her throat.

      “You didn’t find him at the house?” she asked.

      He shook his head, and she noticed he was wearing the same jeans and shirt he had on when he’d pulled her from the pool. They were still damp, and he must be uncomfortable, but he didn’t seem to notice.

      “Your assailant caused the power outage by tampering with the circuit breakers, but I didn’t find anyone inside. CSI is dusting for prints and searching both the inside and outside, as well, for footprints, fibers, anything that might help us identify him.”

      “He didn’t steal anything?”

      “Not that I could tell. But you’ll need to inventory your valuables, jewelry, etcetera, to verify if anything is missing.”

      “I’ll do that tomorrow when I get home.”

      He gave a clipped nod. “The desk in your office had been ransacked. Do you have any idea what the intruder might have been looking for?”

      She shook her head. “Maybe financial information on the foundation?”

      “It’s possible. You should examine your files and follow up on any credit cards.”

      She bit her lip. “Yes, I will.”

      “I left a guard at the house overnight in case he returns or someone else shows up.”

      “Thank you, Sergeant.”

      “You can call me Hayes.” He hesitated, then his gaze zeroed in on her nails. “Your nails are real?”

      She nodded. “Why?”

      “I found a broken red nail, looked like an acrylic, inside your house.”

      She frowned. “I often have guests over, females. It could have come from any one of them.”

      “You’re sure your attacker was male?”

      His question threw her off guard. “I think so.”

      “I also found a blond hair caught in a twig in the tree by the garden.”

      She rubbed her temple. “I have parties out there, too. It could belong to anyone.”

      “I’ll see what forensics says.” He paused. “Can you talk about the attack now?”

      She propped herself up against the pillows. “I told you what happened already.”

      “Indulge me and go over it again. Sometimes the passage of time allows victims to remember more details.”

      She sighed, hating to rehash the night but knowing it was imperative. “Okay. I got home around ten, but I was restless, antsy after all that’s happened in the neighborhood lately.” In fact, she hadn’t slept well since Kimberly McQuade had died. If she hadn’t hosted the party that night, maybe the young woman would still be alive.

      She glanced at Hayes, suddenly realizing that he probably felt the same way, probably blamed her.

      “Go on,” he said sharply.

      She cleared her throat; it was still so dry it hurt to talk. “I couldn’t sleep, so I checked the alarm and changed into my swimsuit. Then I went for a swim.”

      “Had you been drinking?”

      Irritation gnawed at her. “I had a glass of wine with dinner, but I wasn’t drunk if that’s what you’re implying.”

      “You usually swim alone at night?”

      She tensed at the scrutiny in his tone. Did he think she was being stupid, that she’d brought the attack on herself? “Sometimes,” she said truthfully. “I’m a good swimmer, and I had the security system set.” She glared at him. “Besides, I thought you rangers had caught the killer and that I was safe.”

      A muscle ticked in his jaw, and she knew she’d scored a direct hit.

      “Your attack may or may not be related to the other crimes,” he said sharply. “You’re wealthy, everyone knows that. You must have some enemies.”

      She tore her gaze away with a shiver. If he’d meant to scare her, he had.

      “Were the lights on when you came out by the pool?”

      “Yes, Sergeant. I would have called security if they hadn’t been.”

      He simply arched a dark brow, his expression cold and hard, and she silently willed herself to stop reacting. What did she care what Hayes Keller thought of her?

      When she continued, she tried to relay the events as if it had happened to a stranger, not to her. “I was swimming laps when the power flickered off. I got nervous, decided to see what caused the outage, then I saw a movement by the gardens. I got out and ran toward the door…Before I reached it, the man jumped me from behind.” She paused, unable to breathe for a moment as she remembered his fingers around her throat.

      Again, the ranger stared at her with an intensity that made her more nervous.

      She could not break down in front of the man again. “We struggled and he tried to strangle me, then we fell into the pool.”

      “He fell into the pool with you?”

      “Yes. I fought him, but he kept choking me, then pushed me underwater and held me down.”

      He made a low sound with his teeth. “That’s probably the reason he turned on the water hose, to wash away his prints. But I’ll have the pool dragged for trace.” He paused. “You said you were a swimmer?”

      “Yes, high-school swim team. I set the record for holding my breath the longest on my team.”

      “That’s probably what saved you.”

      “No, Sergeant Keller, you saved me,” she said with a tentative smile. “If you hadn’t shown up when you had…”

      He glanced away for the first time, his jaw clenched tight, then shrugged. “Just doing my job, ma’am.”

      She didn’t like the way he said ma’am, as if it was an insult. “Well, thank you anyway.”

      His eyes darkened, narrowed to slits as if he was issuing some kind of silent warning. “You don’t owe me thanks. Just answer the questions.”

      She tensed at his brusque tone. Just when she thought he was human, he turned back into a growling lion. “What else do you want to know?”

      The bite to her voice echoed in the silence for a moment before he replied. “You didn’t see the man’s face?”

      “No. He was wearing a mask.”

      “Like a ski mask?”

      “Yes. And gloves. Latex gloves.”

      His brows pinched together with his frown. “Maybe those will turn up or we’ll lift some trace off of your fingernails.”

      She nodded, glad she’d fought back.

      “Anything else you remember about your attacker? A particular odor? His height, size?”

      “No, it’s all so foggy.”

      His dark