Page 42 of Beyond Her Reach (Bree Taggert #10)

Matt drove past Todd and Juarez taking measurements on the road.

Their patrol vehicles were parked on the shoulder.

Matt’s Suburban screeched to a stop behind an EMS unit.

When he spotted Bree sitting on the tailgate holding an ice pack to her nose, relief flooded him, stealing his breath for a few seconds.

Turbo sat on the ground at her feet, intently watching the medic take her pulse.

The medic had one nervous eye on the very focused dog. “Lean forward, not back, to lessen the bleeding.”

Matt gathered himself for a minute. Dispatch had called to tell him about the crash, so he’d known she was Ok . But it would be like her to minimize her injuries. He’d needed to see her to believe her. He’d also heard her between-the-lines message. This had not been an accident.

He grabbed a leash from the back seat and climbed out of his Suburban.

The medic was shining a light into Bree’s eyes.

Letting him finish his assessment, Matt crossed the road and stared at the sheriff’s SUV on its side in the ditch.

The hood had a giant dent in the center.

The tires were flat. The side windows had shattered, and the only thing holding the windshield together was the lamination.

He stood on his toes and peered into the interior.

The airbag was smeared red. The sight made him queasy.

He wasn’t squeamish, but that was Bree’s blood, and a very bright reminder that she could have died.

He spotted her cell phone crammed between the console and the driver’s seat. Carefully, he climbed onto the door, then lowered his torso through the window and grabbed it. A crack cut across the screen but it powered up when he touched it. He shoved it into his pocket and climbed off the vehicle.

Turning back to Bree, he saw the medic rummaging in his kit.

Matt walked toward them. Bree lowered the ice pack as he approached.

Bloody, folded gauze pads fell away. Dried blood splotched her face and saturated her uniform shirt.

Her entire face was red and swelling, and she’d have double black eyes tomorrow.

She looked like hell, but she was also the best thing he’d ever seen.

He winced in commiseration and looked for a safe place to kiss. He settled for the top of her head. Then he guided the ice back onto her nose. “That looks like it hurts.”

“It’s not too bad. Yet.” Her voice was hoarse.

The medic handed Bree fresh gauze. “I’m pretty sure your nose is broken, but the bleeding seems to have stopped. If you bump it or sneeze, it’ll start up again. Your vitals all look good, but injuries don’t always make themselves known right away. You should go to the ER to get checked out.”

“Yes,” Matt said.

At the same time, Bree said, “No.”

He gave her a really? look.

“Can’t your dad just come over?” she whined, her voice nasally as she placed the fresh gauze on her nose and followed with the cold pack.

He shook his head. “He doesn’t have a portable X-ray machine.”

“Fine.” She sulked, crossing her arms. “He should get one.”

“I’ll talk to him about it.” Matt’s dad was a mostly retired family physician.

He no longer operated his own practice, but he kept his license current, volunteered at clinics, and ministered to family and friends, whether they wanted him to or not.

“I can guarantee he’ll be over to check on you later, though. ”

A half smile twisted the corner of her mouth.

He said, “You’re going to have a Rocky Balboa face tomorrow. Black eyes and everything.”

She grimaced. “I don’t have time for this. I need to get back to work.”

“The normal, human response would be I want to go home .”

She lifted a shoulder, then winced.

“I know you’re not normal.” He kissed the top of her head again. “But you need your nose splinted first.” And X-rays, maybe a CAT scan. “I’ll run you to the ER.”

She shook her head. “You have to take Turbo to the vet. He must have slammed into the back of the seat. He should get looked at too, and I don’t trust anyone else with him.”

Matt noticed she didn’t say, I don’t trust him with anyone else. Her relationship with the dog had changed.

“You seem to have him in hand, but yeah, I’ll take him.” Matt knelt on the ground and felt the dog’s body and legs. Turbo didn’t flinch, not even when Matt probed a gash on his leg. Matt didn’t feel any broken bones, but internal injuries wouldn’t be so obvious.

“You won’t believe what he did.” And she told him. “I’m not sure if it was the person from the overpass or not, but he seems to think he’s my personal bodyguard.”

“Turbo was sure. Dogs have senses we don’t.”

“I trusted the dog,” Bree said.

“That’s what I would have done.” Matt rubbed behind the dog’s ear. “Good boy. You earned some of the shepherd’s pie Dana is making tonight.”

Turbo’s tail thumped on the ground.

“What do you remember about the vehicle that was parked on the overpass?” Matt asked.

“Not much. The guardrail blocked the view of the vehicle below the windows.”

“So, a sedan?”

“Yes.” Bree closed her eyes as if concentrating. “The hood was raised. It was a neutral color. Light. Maybe gray, beige, light silver.”

“White?”

She opened her eyes. “I don’t think so.”

The medic was packing up his kit with a pointed expression. “I have another callout. Do you think you’re all right?”

“I’m good.” Bree slid off the tailgate of his SUV. “Thanks.”

She looked steady on her feet, but Matt took her arm anyway. A fall on blacktop wouldn’t help matters. Deputy Zucco pulled up in her patrol car, and Bree waved her over.

Zucco got out of her vehicle and gaped at Bree’s face. “Wow.”

“Yeah. Need you to run me to the ER. Then you can pick up a receipt from Harrison Gibson and stop at the liquor store on the receipt for the corresponding surveillance footage.”

Zucco opened her passenger-side door and cleared the seat of the organizer that held her ticket book, forms, and clipboard. Ice pack in hand, Bree slid into the passenger seat. “Did you contact Troy Ryder’s cleaner?”

“Yes, ma’am. I texted her. No response yet.” Zucco rounded the front of her vehicle, slid behind the wheel, and closed the door.

Bree mouthed, “I love you” to Matt as she closed the passenger door.

As Zucco pulled away, Matt could see Bree was still talking but her eyes were closed. Most people would put the job aside for a while at this point. But she wasn’t most people.

Matt looked down at the dog. “You ready?”

Turbo stood and waited for a command.

“Matt?” Todd called from about twenty feet away.

Matt walked over. Todd was sketching the scene on a clipboard, and Juarez was taking photographs.

“What happened?” Matt asked, scanning a row of skid marks.

Todd lowered his clipboard and led Matt to the side of the road.

Pieces of a shattered cinder block were scattered on the ground.

“Someone tossed a block off the overpass onto the sheriff’s vehicle as it passed underneath them.

” He pointed to the road. “They’d already set up a spike strip in the shadows so the sheriff wouldn’t see it. ”

Matt glanced back at the vehicle. “If that cinder block had landed on the windshield and gone through, it could have killed her.”

“They wanted her to crash, though, and the cinder block could have missed. The spike strip was a second line of attack.”

“It worked. You can’t steer with blown tires.” Matt thought of Bree hearing footsteps. “Did she tell you about the person approaching her car?”

“She did.” Todd looked grim. “Did they want to see if she was still alive, or did they want to finish her off?”

“Considering they already tossed a cinder block onto her vehicle and boobytrapped the road with a spike strip, their intentions definitely weren’t good.” Matt’s hand rested on the dog’s head. “Good thing Turbo didn’t let them get close.”

“We need him on the force.”

“I agree.” Matt turned to the dog. “I’m going to take him to the vet.”

Turbo waved his tail. He liked the vet as much as he liked everyone else. Matt opened the rear door, intending to pick up the dog, but he leaped inside like a gazelle. Matt drove to the vet clinic in Grey’s Hollow, where the vet took him into the back to run some precautionary tests.

A half hour later, the vet returned Turbo to Matt.

“He’s banged up, but we didn’t find anything broken and there’s no sign of internal injuries.

He has a few stitches in that front leg.

I’m going to send you home with some anti-inflammatories and a sedative in case he needs it.

Keep him quiet. Crate him if you need to.

I don’t want him to tear out the stitches.

Bring him back in five days, and we’ll remove them. ”

Matt took the dog back to the car. “You heard the vet, right? You need to rest.”

Turbo didn’t even limp, and he launched himself into the back seat before Matt could lift him. Matt checked the stitches, which seemed fine. “Seriously, you have to take it easy.”

Turbo’s entire body shuddered as he shook off the day’s stress.

“You did good today.” Matt rested his hand on his shoulder, gratitude filling his heart. “You’ll be a K-9 if I have to pay for your training myself. Hell, I’ll buy the department a new vehicle too. You’re going to make a hell of a cop.”

Turbo wagged his approval.

“Let’s go get Bree.” Matt drove to the ER, dug Brody’s old K-9 harness out of his emergency kit, and put it on Turbo. Then Matt walked him right through the hospital sliding door. If anyone asked if he was a working K-9, Matt couldn’t lie. But no one challenged them.

For once, the ER wasn’t busy. They found Bree waiting for discharge papers. A splint was taped across her nose, and she held an ice pack in one hand. She raised a brow at the dog. Matt put a finger to his lips.

Turbo stood on his hind legs and placed his paws on Bree’s thighs. She stroked his head. “Thanks again.” She touched the edge of Turbo’s bandage and looked up at Matt. “He’s Ok ?”

“A few stitches and some bruises. He should be good as new in a week. How’s the nose?”

“Fractured but not displaced. No concussion. Ice and ibuprofen.” She sounded—and looked—as if her nasal passages were swollen shut.

“Let’s get you two home, so you can both rest.” Matt needed to gather them close tonight. Now that the crisis had passed, his nerves were on edge.

A nurse delivered her discharge papers and a fresh cold pack for the road.

Matt steered Bree and the dog out to the SUV.

When everyone was settled in the vehicle, he said, “Oh, I forgot. I found your cell phone.” He almost didn’t want to give it to her, but she held out a hand.

He placed her phone in it, immediately regretting that he’d even mentioned the device.

She wasn’t out of the ER for five minutes before she was working.

Bree tapped and scrolled. “I have a callback message from Morgan Dane.”

Matt drove while Bree made the call. She kept the ice pack pressed to her face throughout.

“Morgan? You’re on speaker. Matt is here as well.”

Morgan didn’t waste time with niceties. “I spoke with Troy’s cleaner today.

She signed a statement that she was at his home and that he was there between the hours of twelve thirty and three thirty on Thursday.

She has permanent resident status and is willing to testify as well.

If you don’t have a translator, Olivia Cruz has volunteered to assist.”

“Would you ask your client for a list of all the women he dated over the past year?” Bree asked.

Morgan responded with her own question. “What are you thinking? We’ve established that my client has an alibi for Janet’s murder.”

“I’m not making any assumptions at this point,” Bree said. “But your client is the only link we have found between the two victims.”

Matt did not want to find more dead women. Bree didn’t say this to Morgan, but the attorney was smart enough to know why they wanted the names.

“I’ll call him now and get right back to you.

” Barely three minutes passed before the phone buzzed.

As soon as Bree answered, Morgan said, “Troy said he has dated three women other than Kelly and Janet over the past year. Their names, from most recent to least recent, are Barbara James, Claudia Ferguson, and Candy Simpson. Troy had only one date with Candy. He dated Barbara and Claudia for a month or two each.”

The inability to develop and maintain a relationship seemed to be a pattern for Troy.

“Do you know how he met the women?” Matt wanted to make sure the list was complete, and that Troy didn’t leave anyone out.

Morgan answered immediately. “He met all of them through the dating app Date Smart.”

“Thank you,” Bree said and ended the call.

“So, Troy didn’t kill Janet,” Matt said. “But he’s still on the prime suspect list for Kelly’s murder. We could have a copycat. What if someone wanted to off Janet and wanted to make it look like she was murdered by the same person who killed Kelly?”

Bree lowered the ice pack. “What if this isn’t about Kelly? What if someone wanted to ruin Troy?”

Matt turned into the driveway and parked. He glanced at the list of names Bree had typed into the note app on her phone. Worry built in his chest. “We need to make contact with these women.”

Were Barbara, Claudia, and Candy future targets?