still.
She didn’t see a weapon in his hand.
Crying out in anguish, Corinna crawled as best she could with one arm to her father’s side. “Please, don’t let him be dead.”
A high keening noise filled the room. Vaguely aware the sound came from her, she reached a shaky hand to his neck and pressed her fingers to the spot where a pulse should beat. Nothing.
Agony trapped her breath in her lungs. She fell forward, her head coming to rest on her father’s broad shoulder. First her mother, now her father. The two people she loved most in the world both taken from her. Her mother by sickness, her father…murdered.
How could God let this happen?
Forcing herself to move, to assess the situation, she asked herself, What would her father do?
She scrambled over to the other man and checked for a pulse. Beneath her fingers she felt the faint beat of his heart.
Quickly, and without regard to her own pain, she ripped off her navy sweatshirt with the orange-and-white roadrunner logo of the University of Texas, San Antonio. She pressed the wadded-up material against the man’s wound to stem the flow of blood seeping from his abdomen.
She needed help. She ran to the credenza and grabbed the cordless phone with the hand of her uninjured side.
A cat yowled to her left.
Corinna jumped at Gabby’s unexpected cry, her heart still racing from being shot at, her breath stalled in her chest. The orange tabby stood on the threshold of the open double French doors leading to the back patio. Corinna breathed a sigh of relief. If it hadn’t been for Gabby’s forceful exit just minutes ago, Corinna might be dead.
In the distance the sound of an engine turned over, roared and then faded away. The killer getting away. Returning to the stranger’s side to press the hand of her wounded arm on the bunched-up sweatshirt, she dialed 911 with her other hand. Her gaze shifted back to her father.
A sob caught in her throat. Now she was truly alone in the world.
Texas Ranger Ben Fritz threw his Jeep into park on the curving, graveled driveway of the ranch behind the small compact car belonging to Corinna, Captain Pike’s daughter.
Gut churning, Ben glanced once more at the cryptic text message he’d received on his cell phone from his boss, Texas Ranger Captain Gregory Pike, only twenty minutes ago.
CONVENE AT MY HOUSE, ASAP. MAJOR CASE ABOUT TO EXPLODE.
What was Greg working on that was so volatile?
No way would he call the Rangers to his house for a case with his adult daughter in attendance. Greg had kept his private life as isolated from his job as possible.
When he’d first received the text, Ben had been bothered that Greg had kept a case from him. But his annoyance evaporated. Something weird was going on and Greg had reached out to him. Apprehension slithered down Ben’s spine like a rattler on the loose as he jumped out of his Jeep.
Lights from the cars of other Rangers, the elite law enforcement agency unique to Texas, cut through the twilight, illuminating the front of the Pike house, an expansive L-shaped place set back from the road. The circular driveway wrapped around a grassy area with a magnolia tree, a cedar bench, and a few small bushes that would flower in the spring.
Obviously, all the Rangers of Company D had received Greg’s text. This was serious.
Oliver Drew climbed out of his 4x4, the red paint barely visible beneath a thick layer of grime and dust. Ben paused to wait for the half Native-American Ranger. He sported his usual leather vest over a long-sleeve white button-down, jeans and scuffed boots.
Tall, well-built and oozing with charm, Daniel Boone Riley adjusted his standard issue white cowboy hat over his dark hair as he stepped from his truck. His eyes were troubled as they met Ben’s gaze.
More vehicles barreled down the drive and halted, stacked end to end like slot cars ready for the races. Cade Jarvis, Trevor Donovan, Marvel Jones, Levi McDonnell and Gisella Hernandez, the lone female of their company, got out of their vehicles and joined Ben. Only two were missing, Anderson Michaels and Evan Chen. Evan was on assignment over in Corpus Christie and would no doubt check in. And Ben knew Anderson would arrive as soon as possible from wherever he was.
It was the Ranger way to drop whatever they were doing to answer the call. Ben had been grocery shopping. He’d abandoned his cart in the middle of the produce aisle.
“Any idea what this is about?” Oliver asked.
“None.” Ben started toward the front porch.
“What case was the captain working?” asked Gisella, falling in step behind Ben.
“Don’t know,” Daniel replied.
Ben stopped in his tracks. Since the porch light wasn’t on, he hadn’t noticed that the front door stood wide open. The hairs on the back of his neck rose in alert. He held up a hand to halt his fellow Rangers. He pointed at the open door.
Cade tapped Levi on the shoulder. “We’ll take the back,” Cade said in a low voice as he unholstered his weapon from his belt.
The wail of a siren punctuated the air, intensifying the unease gripping Ben. He motioned for the others to follow as he drew his sidearm. They entered the house in standard two-by-two formation. Ben directed Gisella and Oliver to peel off toward the unlit living room, while he motioned for Daniel and Marvel to head down the darkened hall toward the bedrooms. Then Ben, with Trevor at his back, moved toward the only lit room. Greg’s study.
The scene that met them rocked Ben back on his heels. Horror filled his senses as he tried to process what he was seeing.
Greg, his mentor and friend, lay on the floor. Blood pooled around him. Another man, also shot, was sprawled a few feet away. Greg’s daughter, dressed in loose sweatpants and a pale purple leotard covered in blood, sat beside the man, her knees drawn to her chest, her head bowed so that only one side of her pale face was visible. One hand pressed a wad of material to his wound. A black cordless phone dangled from the other.
Acting on instinct and training, Ben quickly searched for the unidentified man’s weapon. And found none. Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, Ben picked up Greg’s weapon and sniffed the end. He frowned. The gun hadn’t been fired recently.
Obviously, this wasn’t a Western-style shoot-out. Whoever had fired the fatal shots was gone, along with the murder weapon.
Cade and Levi entered through the open patio doors. A hiss of surprise came from Gisella as she stepped up behind Ben. More shocked exclamations followed as the Rangers slipped carefully into the room.
Ben went to Greg and squatted down to check his pulse. Grief sucked the air from his body. He looked at his comrades and shook his head.
“This one’s still breathing,” Cade said as he checked the pulse of the other man.
Ben shoved his own anguish aside to be dealt with later and focused on Corinna. By profession, Corinna was a prima ballerina with the San Antonio Ballet Company, like her mother before her. Amanda Pike had died of breast cancer when Corinna was young, not long before Ben had met Greg.
He moved closer and touched her shoulder. She flinched. A knot formed in his gut. She looked so small and vulnerable.
Had she witnessed her father’s murder? Fresh sorrow and compassion tightened his chest. Protective instincts rose despite the antagonism that had always sparked between them. He wanted to shield this fragile ballerina from the harsh reality of her father’s death.
The sound of booted feet brought Ben’s gaze around. Sheriff Karl Layton, a tall man with shocking white hair and chiseled features pushed his way into the room. Layton inclined his head, his question clear. Was Pike alive?
Ben shook his head as another wave of grief flowed through him. Layton blew out a breath and tears misted the older man’s eyes.