down his throat. “I’m not sure—”
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” the secretary announced from the door. “But there’s an urgent call for Sheriff Hayden.”
Mrs. Colby pushed the telephone on her desk in his direction. “You can take it here, Sheriff.”
Tired and annoyed, and definitely not up for any more problems, Mitch snatched up the receiver and depressed the blinking button. “Hayden.” It was Russ Dixon, one of his deputies. “Slow down, Dixon, and tell me what the problem is.” The deputy’s next words stunned Mitch. A mixture of fury and anxiety clenched his gut. “I’m on my way,” he said tightly and hung up.
“Is there a problem, Sheriff?” Mrs. Colby studied him closely, as if reading the new worry even before he spoke.
“That was one of my men,” Mitch said, his voice oddly devoid of inflection. “Alex Preston is missing, and the deputy who was watching her is dead.”
Chapter One
“The first shot entered here.” Deputy Dixon pointed to one of the bullet holes in the hospital window.
Mitch Hayden stared at the entry hole and the spiderweb of cracked glass around it. “It must have come from the hotel across the street,” he suggested, thinking out loud. The rooms in the four-story hotel had balconies with glass slider doors. Heavy curtains draped each set of sliders, offering excellent cover and the perfect angle for a shooter.
“That’s what I figured,” Dixon agreed. “The first round is the one that most likely hit the pillow right where Miss Preston would have laid her head. She apparently scrambled for cover, knocking over the telephone.”
A muttered curse from near the bed dragged Mitch’s attention in that direction. Zach Ashton, the Colby Agency’s hotshot attorney, stood, staring down at the thin, disposable pillow that sported the nice round bullet hole.
Ashton lifted his gaze, meeting Mitch’s. “She must have rolled over or gotten up at just the right moment,” he surmised grimly, an underlying emotion in his tone that went beyond that of mere professional concern for a co-worker.
Without comment, Mitch turned back to Dixon so that he could continue with his scenario.
“The sound most likely alerted Saylor and he rushed into the room. Or maybe she screamed.” Dixon indicated the second hole in the glass. “This round hit him dead center of his chest.”
Dead being the operative word. Clenching his jaw to stave off the emotions tugging at him, Mitch glanced to the place where his deputy had fallen. Midway between the door and the bed, Saylor had lost his life.
Apparently thinking along the same vein, Ashton studied the handprint of dried blood on the floor next to where Saylor had been found.
“We figure Ms. Preston rolled off the bed on that side.” Dixon gestured to the far side where Ashton stood. “Maybe to take cover or maybe to help Saylor. The bloody hand print on the floor isn’t Saylor’s or any of the hospital staff’s. We think maybe she tried to stop the bleeding or give him CPR or something.”
The deputy’s words evolved into a fully formed scene in Mitch’s head. The image of Alex Preston kneeling over Saylor attempting to stop the heavy flow of blood from his chest twisted the knot in Mitch’s gut a few more turns.
“Good work, Dixon.” Mitch started to turn away from the window, but hesitated. “Did you have a look over in the hotel already?”
“Sure did.” Dixon pulled a small notepad from his shirt pocket. “Roy and Willis combed the entire building and even the trees accessible on this side of the hospital.” Dixon shook his head. “They didn’t find anything. We’ve interviewed dozens of people and no one seems to have seen or heard anything suspicious.” He sighed. “It’s like our shooter just plain vanished into thin air.”
Mitch scrubbed a hand over his face and tried to stay fixed on the conversation when his mind wanted to focus on the search for Alex, but he had to take care of this first. “Well, we know he didn’t just disappear. We’ll have to look harder that’s all. Somebody had to have seen or heard something.” He glanced at his watch. The shooting had taken place approximately four hours ago. “I want every volunteer we can get out there beating the bushes. I want her found before dark.”
“We’ve got most of our men, a big hunk of the city’s force, and a dozen or so volunteers out searching already,” Dixon assured him. “If she’s still here, we’ll find her.”
“That’s what I want to hear.” Mitch made a quick mental checklist of all he had to do. “Ashton and I’ll join the search after I stop at the office. You make sure this crime scene stays clean. TBI’s techs may need to go over the place again.” Lucky for Mitch the Tennessee Bureau of Investigations was close by and had responded in record time.
“Will do.” Dixon stroked his forehead as if a headache had begun there. “One more thing, Sheriff. Chief Lowden said he wouldn’t push jurisdiction since Saylor was one of ours. But he wants to be certain that we keep him informed.”
Mitch nodded. “I’ll give him a call. Thanks, Dixon.”
Saylor was new on the force. His wife still lived in Knoxville, waiting for their house to sell. There was a call Mitch wasn’t looking forward to making. But it had to be done. He might as well go straight to the office and do it now. Chief Lowden had already broken the news to Mrs. Saylor in person. Mitch would have preferred to have done so himself, but that hadn’t been possible. At this point he needed to intrude as little as possible.
“Let’s go, Ashton.”
His hands buried in his pockets, Ashton followed Mitch into the corridor. Mitch nodded to the deputy stationed outside the door, his thoughts going immediately back to the man trailing close behind him. Mitch imagined that fancy designer suit Ashton was wearing probably cost the equivalent of a full month’s salary for a county sheriff. In spite of his expensive attire, Ashton seemed like a decent guy. He’d been amicable during the flight, filling Mitch in on what he knew of the case Alex was working, which wasn’t a whole lot.
The involvement of the Bukovak name had proven a surprise to Mitch. Alex had apparently been looking into the disappearance of Marija Bukovak, a foreign exchange student from Croatia who had lived with Phillip and Nadine Malloy during the last school year. She’d left Tennessee more than three months ago to join her older sister in Chicago. But Marija never showed, and she hadn’t been seen since the Malloys left her at the Nashville airport.
According to Ashton, the sister, Jasna, had given up trying to find Marija herself and had gone to the Colby Agency for help when the police failed to come up with any real answers. Mitch opted not to take offense at that remark. Jasna Bukovak had left a few things out when she’d told the Colby Agency her side of the story, but now wasn’t the time to dwell on that. He wondered though why Alex hadn’t just told him the truth about what she was doing in Shady Grove. It would certainly have made life simpler for him and her. But then, the truth would only have lent credence to what he’d already decided Alex was really up to—digging for dirt.
Mitch produced a smile for the duty nurse as he passed her station, then paused at the bank of elevators and stabbed the call button. A dozen questions whirled in his head, interfering with his ability to concentrate. Who in the world would have benefited from Miller’s death? The man didn’t have any money other than his deputy’s salary. Everybody liked him. He was single and fairly popular with the women…which could possibly explain the reason he and Alex had been together.
An unfamiliar sensation joined the ballet of fragmented thoughts and feelings inside Mitch. His mouth drew into a frown. What the heck was that all about? First he had Ashton pegged as her lover, and then Mitch had moved on to scenarios with Miller. Mitch blew out a weary breath. He was too tired to think straight that’s all. Too punchy to get a grip. He had to keep telling himself that a few hours shared over dinner that one night didn’t change anything. He didn’t know Alex Preston. She’d lied