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CHAPTER THREE

T hey were exposed.

Embedded instinct took over as Gavin cradled Claire’s head in the crook of his neck and rolled, shifting them behind the protective cover of the dumpster. The Taser on her duty belt jabbed his stomach. Cold liquid seeped into the sleeve of his blazer. He barely felt it. His only concern was Claire. Had she been hit?

Gavin released her, his gaze sweeping over her slender form. A small scrape marred the delicate curve of her cheek and she looked furious enough to spit nails but otherwise appeared unharmed. Relief unclamped his stomach, but the reprieve was brief. More glass on the bakery windows shattered, followed by pings on the metal dumpster as the shooter sprayed them. Several bullets pounded into the wooden fence behind Gavin. He pulled his gun.

Claire reached for her weapon, sliding closer to the dumpster’s side. She held her cell in the other hand. “Where is he?”

“I’m not sure.” Gavin peeked around the corner of the dumpster. There was only one building tall enough with a clear line of sight. “Is that a hospital? Second floor. The one under construction.”

More bullets slammed into the metal, this time much closer to their position. Gavin slunk lower. He prayed the dumpster would be strong enough to absorb the bullets. There was always a risk one would pass through and hit one of them.

“It’s not a hospital. It’s an emergency clinic.” Claire relayed their position and situation to dispatch in clipped tones. Then she hung up. “Backup is on the way, but the shooter will bolt before they get here. I’m going after him.”

“We’re going after him,” Gavin corrected. Staying put wasn’t an option. The shooter had fired on two law enforcement officers in the broad light of day. Chances were, this attack was connected to Faye’s murder. A criminal that determined and dangerous had to be caught.

Claire met his gaze for a heartbeat and nodded sharply. “Follow me.”

She shifted into a crouch. A straw wrapper was snagged in the silky strands of her blond hair and her previously pressed and perfect uniform was stained. But her expression…it was captivating. Focused. Determined. Driven.

Beautiful.

It was a wayward thought Gavin didn’t have a second to process. Adrenaline narrowed his focus as he sprang from behind the dumpster and followed Claire down the small alley to the side street. The edge of his cowboy boot hit a patch of ice. His foot slid, threatening to upend him, but he caught himself at the last moment. He added more fuel to his legs, joining Claire at the entrance of the emergency clinic.

The automatic doors slid open with a whoosh. Several people were sitting in the waiting room and a nurse stood blocking the path to the interior exam rooms. Her eyes widened at the sight of their drawn weapons.

Gavin didn’t slow down. “Where’s the stairwell leading to the upper floor?”

The nurse blinked. “It’s closed?—”

“Stairwell,” Claire commanded. Her tone was sharp and her feet never stopped moving as she brushed past the nurse. Gavin stayed on her heels. The nurse pointed to the left, and they took off down the hall. The door leading to the second floor was unlocked.

Gavin grabbed Claire’s arm before she could ascend the stairs. He leaned in closer to her ear. “Let me go first.”

She looked like she wanted to argue for a moment, but then acquiesced. Another mark in the plus column in Gavin’s book. Claire wasn’t reckless or unwilling to be a team player. The shooter had been aiming for her. She was his target. The criminal could be lying in wait, hoping for Claire to appear first so he could take her out.

Gavin wouldn’t give him the chance.

Claire stepped back, allowing Gavin to slip past her. The stairwell was concrete. He lightened his steps to prevent his boots from making any noise. Nerves jittered his stomach as he turned the corner on the landing, but the hand holding his weapon was steady. Claire matched him step for step. Her presence was both a comfort and a responsibility.

There was no door separating the stairs from the upper level. This was the riskiest part. In order to ascend, Gavin’s head would be exposed before the rest of his body. He pressed himself against the wall and the railing shoved against the small of his back. His heart rate increased. Gavin took deep breaths to counteract his narrowing vision. He paused on the stairs, straining to listen for any sound in the floor above them.

Nothing.

Sweat dripped down Gavin’s back. He inhaled once more and then took the stairs two at a time, letting his gaze sweep across the space for any sign of color or movement. Behind him, Claire followed. As he swept left, she went right. Training made them a good team. Nails and dust littered the floor. Metal framing delineated future rooms, but the sheet rock hadn’t been placed yet. A wash of frigid air blew into the space from an open window.

The shooter was gone.

An hour later, Claire dabbed antiseptic on a nasty cut along her calf. A pounding headache made her stomach churn. Her body was bruised from the hard impact with the concrete and her uniform smelled like sour icing. But she was alive.

Thank you, God. The last thing I want to do is leave Jacob without a mother.

She was a law enforcement officer. A professional. Risking her life came with the badge, but motherhood had placed an additional responsibility on her shoulders. One she was still struggling to balance with her career. Days like today brought that point home in a raw way.

Claire had made her fair share of enemies. Every law enforcement officer did. But this morning’s shooting, coming on the heels of Faye’s murder, couldn’t be random. The two incidents had to be connected. Gavin believed Claire was the true target since the initial shot had been aimed at her. But why? What purpose did the killer hope to gain by killing her? It would only draw more attention to the case.

None of it made sense. Hopefully, Faye’s sister, Mary Ellen, could provide some insight.

Claire ripped open a bandage and applied it to her calf. She splashed cold water on her face, redid her ponytail, and then squared her shoulders. Everyone—including her subordinates—would be watching her. She had to set the right example. Calm, cool, and collected.

Even if a murderer had her in his sights.

Claire exited the bathroom. The sounds of the phones ringing and voices drifted down the hall from the deputies' area. Her cell phone, tucked in her pocket, vibrated. She pulled it out and groaned at the name written across the screen.

Mayor Patrick Scott.

He was calling about the case. She pictured him sitting in his office at City Hall, the heavy drapery on the large windows behind him, several members of his staff hovering around like bees. Patrick was well-liked, but Claire found him pretentious and more concerned with his reputation than doing the right thing.

Drawing from a well of patience, Claire accepted the call. “Good morning, Mayor.”

“Sheriff, finally. I’ve called the department three times and no one could locate you. The media are clamoring for a comment about the bakery shooting. We need to get the story right, otherwise it’ll be a mess. What do you know? Do you have suspects?”

It didn’t escape Claire’s notice that Patrick didn’t waste his breath asking if she was okay. She tamped down her frustration with him. One of the good things about Patrick was his ability to handle the media. It kept them off her back. She was very grateful for that.

Claire quickly ran through what they knew. When she finished, Patrick was so quiet she thought the call had dropped. “Sir?”

“Sorry, I’m thinking. This case isn’t like any other. The media attention is going to be on us, much like it was last year with the serial killer. I want complete updates from you every three hours. If there’s a major break in the investigation, I need to know immediately.”

“Every three hours may be difficult, sir, but I promise to keep you abreast of the situation.”

“Not good enough, Sheriff. I don’t need to tell you what a critical time this is. Elections are around the corner. People will be watching us.”

Claire didn’t care a fig about the election. Her goal was to obtain justice for Faye and protect the citizens of her county. If she didn’t do that, then she didn’t deserve to be sheriff. “You have my word, sir. I will do everything in my power to catch the criminal behind this and put him behind bars.”

She hung up. The pounding in her head was increasing exponentially. Claire turned the corner and nearly ran into Gavin standing outside her office. He’d shed his sports jacket and the ranger badge pinned to the front pocket of his shirt shone in the fluorescent lighting. For a moment, the feeling of his arms wrapped around her as they rolled behind the dumpster flashed in Claire’s mind. His touch had been gentle and tender, despite the dangerous circumstances.

She shoved the errant thought from her mind. Her focus needed to be on the case. “Ready to talk to Mary Ellen?”

“Yep. She’s waiting for us inside the interview room.” He lifted his hand. A small packet of over-the-counter painkillers rested in his palm. “I took some already. Figured you might need them too.”

The gesture was thoughtful and kind. It caught Claire off-guard. She wasn’t used to being taken care of by anyone other than her parents. Her gaze narrowed as she plucked the pills from his palm. “You aren’t going to ask if I want to go home, are you?”

His mouth quirked. “I wouldn't dream of it. I already know you’d refuse.”

Claire accepted the bottle of water Gavin offered and downed the pills. “Thank you. And thanks for having my back this morning.”

The mirth fled from his expression. He pointed to the cross discreetly pinned to her uniform shirt. “You’re a believer?”

“I am.”

“Then you’ll understand this when I say, God brought me here. He used me as an instrument to protect you. I’m glad He did, Claire, and I promise to do everything in my power to solve this case.”

The man kept surprising her. His insightful words clicked open something inside her heart. She might not want to pursue this attraction to Gavin, but she would be fortunate to have his friendship.

Before she could say anything, Gavin continued, “I’d like your permission to have state troopers increase patrols near your family’s home. As a precautionary measure. Just until we know what we’re dealing with.”

He was worried the shooter might use Claire’s family as a means to get to her. She’d already considered that. It didn’t seem likely, but she wouldn’t take any chances. Not when it came to the people she loved most in the world. “Do it. I’ve already asked my own deputies to increase patrols, but every set of extra eyes helps. I’ve also spoken with my father and explained the situation. Dad has a home security system. He’s also an expert marksman.”

Gavin nodded. “I’ve met your father. Took a Sports and Wilderness First Aid training course from him. He’s good at what he does.”

“He is.” Pride swelled in her chest. Her parents had worked hard to build their wilderness and cabin rental business from scratch. Claire’s younger sister, Bea, would take over next year. She was currently attending a seminar in Denver. “Come on. Let’s not leave Mary Ellen waiting any longer.”

Claire and Gavin walked to the interview room. Mary Ellen stood when they entered. Late-thirties, she was older than Faye by five years. Her dark hair was tucked into a messy bun and she’d dressed in sweats. Her eyes were red-rimmed and swollen from crying. Several crumpled tissues lay on the table.

A deputy—one of Claire’s best—had been assigned to wait with Mary Ellen and comfort her. He nodded in Claire’s direction before leaving the room, closing the door gently behind him.

Mary Ellen rushed forward. “Claire, thank God. Are you okay? I overheard them saying you’d been shot. The deputy wouldn’t tell me anything, no matter how many times I asked.”

Claire embraced the other woman. “He’s not allowed to speak about an ongoing case. Don’t be angry with him.” She pulled back, holding on to Mary Ellen’s arm. Her complexion was paler than the ice crystals hanging outside the window. “Thank you for driving straight here. Can I get you anything? Coffee or water?”

“No. Nothing.”

“Did the deputy offer to call your husband for you?”

She nodded. “Pete’s in Alaska on a business trip, and my kids are staying with their grandparents. I’ve already spoken to my aunt. She’s driving up to stay with me until they get here.”

Mary Ellen’s gaze shot to Gavin. Claire made introductions and explained his role in the investigation. Then they all sat at the conference table. Mary Ellen grabbed a new tissue and swiped at the tears leaking from her eyes. “I’m sorry. I can’t stop crying. After you called and told me about Faye, I focused on getting here. But once I got into this room… it gave me time to think.”

Her grief was palpable, and it took everything inside Claire to keep her own under control. She reached across the table and squeezed the other woman’s hand. “Cry as much as you want, Mary Ellen. We’ll take this one step at a time.”

“No. I can do this.” She took a shaky breath. “There’s something you need to know, Claire. Faye was looking into a missing person’s case from two years ago. Stephanie Madden. She worked for us at the bakery.”

Shock reverberated through Claire. Two years ago, she hadn’t been sheriff. Her predecessor—Randy King—had been in charge then. Dread circled her insides. Sheriff King, as the townspeople still called him, had often made mistakes while investigating cases. Faye had mentioned Stephanie in passing to Claire, but never said the woman was missing. “I thought Stephanie left town.”

“That’s what Sheriff King told us. But Faye never believed it. She had a fondness for Stephanie, had mentored her through high school and after graduation. She even rented my grandmother’s cottage to her at a discounted rate. When she supposedly left town, Stephanie was working for us and attending community college. She was responsible and hardworking. Faye found it difficult to believe Stephanie would simply pack up and leave town without saying something first.”

“Why didn’t Faye come to me about it?”

Mary Ellen sighed. “She intended to, but Stephanie’s family claims she’s living in Houston. Faye didn’t want to bother you if that was true. She hired a private investigator and asked him to search for Stephanie.”

Beside her, Gavin scribbled notes on his pad. “Do you know the name of the private investigator?”

“Michael Grayson. Faye called me last night from the store while she was closing up and said that she’d gotten some news from him. We were supposed to discuss it later in the evening when she got home…” Mary Ellen’s eyes swam with fresh tears as a sob cut off her sentence.

Faye had never made it home.