Page 32

Hez’s tired brain whirred. “The smugglers knew about the roadblock. They might also know that our tip came through the Justice Chamber.”
“I tried calling Ed and Dominga. They didn’t answer, but there’s no reception at that old track where they run this time of day.”
“On my way there now.”
Hez ended the call and ran past Connor Hall, an old brick-and-limestone edifice that moldered among banks of azaleas and rhododendrons about two hundred yards from the law school.
He rounded the corner of the last building and took in the scene at the old track in an instant. Ed lay prone on the crumbling asphalt, pinned down by two big men in ski masks. Dominga shrank back against a tree, her eyes wide with terror as a third masked man yanked her purse off her shoulder.
Hez launched himself at one of the guys on top of Ed. The force of the impact knocked the guy off, and he and Hez wrestled on the asphalt.
Hez’s opponent was bigger and managed to force him onto his back. Thick fingers wrapped around Hez’s neck and started to squeeze. Black spots danced in his vision, and he knew he had only a few seconds of consciousness left. He flailed around for a weapon, and his hand closed on a rock. He smashed it on the guy’s head with all his strength. The grip loosened and Hez broke free. He staggered to his feet, looking around for another weapon.
“Look out!” Dominga shouted.
Something crashed into the left side of Hez’s skull and blackness took him.
***
The loan consolidation was everything Jess had been working for, but Savannah fiddled with her pen as she read it in the afternoon sunshine streaming through her office window. “This legalese makes my head hurt. I’m forwarding it to Hez before I sign it.” She clicked the forward button and sent it off. His teaching day would be mostly over, and he should get to it quickly.
Jess had one elegant leg crossed over the other, and her taupe heel swinging back and forth was a sure sign of her exasperation. “Savannah, this is a great deal.” She leaned forward in her chair to touch a manicured nail to the interest rate percentage. “We should finalize it while we can. I worked hard on getting this put together. Not only does it consolidate all our debt where we can concentrate on paying it down, but it will save us money. With our precarious financial situation, we need every penny.”
Savannah wasn’t going to let herself be bullied. “Hez won’t take long to get back to me.”
Sirens screamed past outside, and she went to the window. Several police cars and an ambulance tore past her building and vanished toward the edge of campus.
Her door flew open and the old security guard, Oscar Pickwick, burst in. His cap was askew and his face pale. “The police just called! There was an attack at the old track—it’s Professor Webster! There’s an ambulance on the way.”
Professor Webster.
Savannah ran past Jess and dashed out the building. She raced toward the old track, and her labored lungs screamed for oxygen as she pushed herself to go faster.
A cluster of officers and bystanders thronged the edge ofthe cracked and weedy asphalt oval, and fear clutched her by the throat.
Augusta Richards grabbed her arm as Savannah forced herself through the crowd. Augusta, with her tall, lanky figure, exuded confidence in her role as a Pelican Harbor detective. Her brown eyes held sympathy. “You can’t go in there, Savannah. It’s a crime scene.”
Crime scene.
Savannah’s terror ramped up a hundredfold, and she shook off Augusta’s restraining grip. “Let me go—I have to see Hez.” She reached the track. Dominga stood by a tree talking to a police officer. Savannah’s gaze skipped to Ed, who sat on the cracked asphalt. She could smell a coppery scent in the air. Blood trickled down his cheek, and an EMT was working on a cut on his head while another officer stood talking to him and jotting down notes.
Where was Hez? He had to be here. Then she spotted him on the grass beside the track. His breathing didn’t look right, and he was pale and sweaty. Paramedics positioned a gurney into place and began to lift him onto it.
“Hez!” She started forward, and Augusta put a hand on her arm.
“The paramedics need to be able to help him,” Augusta said.
The attendants got him situated on the gurney, and Savannah caught a glimpse of his open eyes. The blankness in his face sent ice down her spine. His pupils were enormous, and very little of the blue in his eyes could be seen. He grunted and his arms twitched, then his legs. He was having a seizure.
“Help him!” Sobs shook Savannah. “I have to be with him.”What if he died? What if the harshness between them this morning was their last spoken exchange?
Augusta tugged her back. “Stay calm. The paramedics know what they’re doing.”
The seizure ended, and the two paramedics rushed with the gurney toward the waiting ambulance. Savannah stood out of the way and touched his arm as they passed. “Is he going to be okay? I’m his wife. Can I ride to the hospital with him?”
The paramedic in front, a blonde woman in her twenties, gave Savannah a sharp glance before giving a reluctant nod. “You’ll have to stay out of our way.”
“I will.” Savannah followed them to the ambulance and climbed into the back behind Hez and the paramedics. She tucked herself into a corner by the door where she could see his face. They secured him, and the driver headed toward the hospital with sirens blaring. The strident sound added to the nightmarish fog surrounding her. “He—he has a hematoma. Could it be bleeding again?”