“Who was it? Did you see him?”
Her lips moved again, but no sound came out. He did not want to press as her face was deadly pale. Lord, keep her breathing. Such a violent blow might easily have caused irreparable damage or death. “Stay with me, Madison. Okay? You’re going to make it through this.”
The cops barreled in: Bucks and Shane Weston, his friend and roommate in the condo they shared with other K-9 officers.
Shane had left his German shepherd, Bella, outside with Hawk until he could assess the situation. The more bodies nosing around the crime scene, the harder to read the evidence. James brought them up to speed. When, at long last, the county ambulance arrived, James stood back to let the paramedics work. They stabilized Madison’s spine and checked her vitals as they loaded her onto a stretcher. Her small frame was swallowed up by the contraption. When they wheeled her to the ambulance, he walked alongside.
She opened her eyes, flicking a frightened glance at him, like the baby owl that had fallen out of the nest years ago on his family ranch. Lost, confused, a fallen creature meant to fly. His gut clenched.
“We’re getting you to the hospital. You’re going to be okay.” He could not resist cupping her hand in his.
Her lips moved as if she wanted to say something. He drew close, noting the glimmer of tears on her lashes. “I’m sorry this happened,” he whispered. “We’ll find whoever did this. I promise.”
He had the mad desire to wipe away the single tear that trickled along her cheek, losing itself in her tangle of hair. Instead he gave her hand a gentle squeeze just before they lifted her into the back. Her long fingers were fragile and cold. Then the doors closed and the ambulance rolled away.
Red-hot anger poured through him. Who had done this? In his town?
The thought surprised him. Desert Valley was a place he’d been temporarily assigned, a town he had no intention of staying in, and he’d met this woman only a few hours before.
“You were running down a black sedan?” Shane asked, interrupting his thoughts.
“Yeah,” James tried to snap back into objective cop mode. “The guy who did this, I’m thinking.”
Shane nodded, scrubbing a hand through his close-cropped black hair. “Whitney’s on it.”
James felt a flicker of relief. Officer Whitney Godwin was sharp and determined. He had new admiration for the young mother since she recently cracked a drug ring.
“Did you get a look at him?” Shane asked. Bella was alert, sharp eyes watching the ambulance as it headed with Madison to Canyon County Medical Center twenty miles west of town. A severe head injury would be beyond what the local clinic could handle. James put it out of his mind.
“No, didn’t see the guy’s face.”
Shane thrust his chin toward the bridal-shop owner, who was also being checked by the medics. “Frances give you a description?”
“No help there at all. Said she didn’t see or hear anything and didn’t even know the assailant was in the shop,” James said.
Shane’s eyebrow quirked. “Huh.”
“Yeah. Gonna get Hawk on it now.”
“I’ll roll to the hospital after we get pictures here.”
“Right behind you as soon as I’m done.”
Shane shook his head, eyes shifting in thought. “Bucks told me you had an encounter with her earlier. Lady’s been in Desert Valley all of one morning and this happens. This is turning into one dangerous place,” Shane muttered. He frowned, and James wondered if he would have any desire to stay in town after his temporary assignment ended, should the opportunity present itself. He pictured the petite dog trainer Gina Perry, Shane’s girlfriend. Maybe Shane had truly abandoned his big-city yearnings for the desert, thanks to Gina.
As he went to get Hawk, James couldn’t help but agree with Shane about the dangers cropping up in town with growing frequency. Marian Foxcroft was in a coma under guard due to a recent attack. Had she crossed paths with the same guy who tried to rob the salon?
But robbery wasn’t the motive in the Foxcroft attack. He thought of the hunted look on Frances’s face. Maybe it wasn’t here, either. Why would someone hit a bridal salon an hour before it was scheduled to open? It wasn’t likely that the till would be full. Something didn’t feel right. He hooked Hawk up to the short lead, picturing Madison swaddled up by the thick blankets. She’d looked very small and vulnerable, not the self-assured woman who’d challenged him with that spark of confidence. He blinked. “What is the matter with you?” he muttered to himself. “She’s tough as nails.”
Still, even though she was the last person he wanted mucking about his town, the sight of her fallen and bleeding softened his ire. He led Hawk toward the salon. First Hawk examined the doorknob which James was grateful he hadn’t touched. Then, nose glued to the floor, Hawk made his way into the interior of the salon. The guy had undoubtedly left his trail of sloughed-off skin cells, which were as individualized as a fingerprint to the eager bloodhound. The trouble was, so had everyone else who’d entered the shop. With each human losing some fifty million skin cells per day, the salon was awash in identities for the dog to sort out. With no clear scent article, it was an impossible task.
Hawk sniffed the spot where Madison had lain and the bust, which was being carefully photographed by Ken Bucks. When Hawk whirled and dashed from the building, James followed at a sprint. Trailing Hawk was like holding on to the bumper of a Sherman tank. They nearly knocked over Officer Dennis Marlton in the process.
“Sorry,” he called as he ran.
Marlton sighed and shook his head.
Hawk beelined to the back parking lot, then followed a trail out to the street where the car chase had begun. The scent must have gotten lost in the smell of exhaust from the parade of emergency vehicles. Hawk sat down with a huff that ruffled his saggy face. James sighed and patted the dog. “That’s what I thought, Hawk. Guy we were chasing clobbered Madison Coles, and we let him get away.”
Hawk let out a disgruntled howl that the chase had been cut short.
James felt the same way as they got into the car. He wondered how badly Madison had been injured, and he itched to get to the hospital. He contemplated finding a dog sitter for Hawk. It was approaching midday, and the May temperatures could get uncomfortable. It was best not to work Hawk during the afternoon if possible. His car had air for the dog, but it was a third-hand Crown Victoria, not specially designed for a K-9 like the cars in better-funded departments, which had cooling systems and alarms that went off when the interior temperatures got too high. Plus, the one-hundred-ten-pound bloodhound, trained only to track and trail, tended to get into mischief in medical settings. On their last visit to the local clinic, he’d yanked the leash from James’s hand, dashed into the break room and scampered off with a nurse’s sandwich. The patients who had witnessed Hawk’s escape had been thoroughly amused. The nurse had not. Maybe more retraining would help if he ever had the time to take Hawk.
If he wasn’t in such a hurry to get to the hospital to check on Madison Coles, he would have left Hawk with his family, who were staying in the Desert Pines campground for a month. They said they’d made the trip to visit him. He hoped there wasn’t a darker reason, like that they’d lost their tiny house, the only possession they’d managed to hold on to since the ranch had been sold.
Hawk whined from the backseat.
“Okay, you can come, but keep your nose to yourself, you hear me?”
Hawk answered with a shake of his massive ears.
James found himself pushing the accelerator a little harder than he ought to as they headed for the hospital. Something was definitely wrong—that was no news flash—but he could not escape the feeling things were about to go from bad to worse.