The Colonel's Daughter. Debby Giusti

touched her neck, feeling a steady pulse, and gasped with relief.

      She jerked at his touch.

      “It’s okay, honey. An ambulance is on the way.”

      Sirens screamed in the distance.

      “Open your eyes, Michele.”

      She groaned. Her lashes fluttered, revealing cornflower-blue orbs clouded with confusion.

      “You’re going to be all right. There’s nothing to worry about.” As he tried to comfort her, Jamison worked his hands over her arms and lower legs, ensuring that none of her bones had been broken.

      She flinched when he gently prodded her knee, probably where she had taken the greatest impact from the hit.

      Anger surged through him at the maniac who had done this to her and then had driven away, never checking to ensure that she was still alive. Jamison wanted to pound his fist into the wet earth at his own stupidity. He shouldn’t have let her leave the floral shop alone.

      “La...Lance’s grave site.” She tried to sit up.

      He gently touched her shoulder. “Lie still until the EMTs arrive.”

      She grabbed his hand. “The m...monument was desecrated.”

      Sirens filled the air. Two Freemont police cars pulled into the cemetery and stopped close to where Michele lay. An ambulance turned onto the grounds. Overcome with relief, Jamison remained at her side as the officers neared.

      The older of the two made the introductions. “Sir, I’m Officer Tim Simpson with the Freemont Police Department.” Mid-forties, the guy had a buzz cut and thick brows that he raised as he pointed to the wiry, younger officer next to him. “This is Officer Bobby Jones.”

      Jamison flashed his identification, gave his own name and Michele’s and quickly explained what he had witnessed.

      “I saw Miss Logan when I pulled into the cemetery. She was hurrying around the curve in the road toward her car. The rain was falling hard, and she was trying to pull her cell phone or her keys from her handbag.”

      “M...my keys,” she responded, her voice weak.

      “The car appeared to accelerate just before it hit her,” Jamison added.

      She glanced at Simpson. “I...I didn’t hear a motor.”

      “Can you give us a description of the vehicle, ma’am?”

      “Black or dark blue with a silver hood ornament.” She shook her head. “I’m not sure about the make or model.”

      “Were you able to see the driver?” Jamison asked, still hovering over her.

      “The windows were tinted. Earlier, a man...by the oak tree. He had binoculars.”

      “Military binoculars?”

      “I’m not sure. I thought he’d left the cemetery by the front entrance.” She wrinkled her brow. “It could have been the same car.”

      The cop looked at Jamison. “Did you get a visual, sir?”

      “Not on the driver. I was too far away, and he left through the rear exit. The vehicle was a small, four-door sedan with tinted windows, as Miss Logan mentioned. Late model. Dark color. Could have been a hybrid.”

      Simpson pursed his lips. “Which would have been the reason she didn’t hear the engine.”

      “Exactly.”

      The ambulance pulled alongside the police cars, and two EMTs quickly approached. “Sir, can you step back and give us some room?”

      As much as Jamison didn’t want to leave Michele’s side, he had to let the medical team do their job.

      He squeezed her hand. “I’ll talk to the police while the EMTs ensure that you’re okay.”

      Her grip tightened. “Lance’s grave. Someone cut into his marker.”

      “I’m heading there now.”

      As the EMTs strapped Michele to a backboard, Jamison turned to Officer Jones. “Can you get the names off the headstones near the oak tree? The family members need to be questioned in case one of them was the man with binoculars.”

      “Good idea. I’ll take care of it.”

      Jamison motioned to the older cop and then pointed up the incline. “Let’s take a walk and check out the marker.”

      Having visited Lance’s grave with Michele on occasion, Jamison led the way. His stomach soured at the sight of the damage done to the monument. What kind of vicious person would do such a hateful act?

      Bending down, he studied the cuts in the granite and the spattered liquid. “Looks like blood, although it might not be human.”

      Simpson nodded. “A piece of raw steak could provide enough blood to cover the entire monument.” He scratched off a sample and dropped it into a plastic evidence bag. “Whatever it is, I’ll have it analyzed and let you know the results.”

      Jamison glanced back at where the EMTs were talking to Michele. A heavy weight settled on his shoulders.

      The grave desecration was a vindictive act against the Logan family. Judging from the location of gash marks on Lance’s etched likeness, the defacement appeared to be connected to the murder on post.

      Jamison’s heart lurched with a terrifying realization. The cold, hard truth sent chills along his spine. Just like with Dawson, Jamison hadn’t put the pieces together fast enough to realize Michele would be an easy target at the cemetery. That mistake had almost cost Michele her life.