Darcie’s heart sank, but she didn’t speak. Couldn’t speak. What could she say after hearing the man who’d tried to kill her was still running free?
Noah pulled out a small notepad and a pen. “I got a quick look at the suspect’s size and body type, but I’m hoping you can give me a facial description so I can put out an alert. Then you can meet with the sketch artist first thing in the morning.”
Darcie forced herself to replay the details of her attack so she could describe the creep. “He was dark-skinned. Latino. His face was round, and he had stubble covering his chin. Maybe a full goatee—I’m not sure. He was mean-looking, Noah. So mean. Like he’d done this before. Killed someone, I mean.” The fear that had nearly taken her down during the attack resurfaced, and she looked at Noah for a moment to take comfort from his warmth. His concern.
She jerked her gaze away before she started thinking she could continue to go to him for reassurance. Turning her head sent pain shooting through her tender neck, and her near-death experience came flashing back with a vengeance. Shivers started at her head, racing down her body like a rushing river. A cry of despair slipped out before she could stifle it.
“Hey.” Noah stepped closer and rested a warm hand on her arm. “It’s okay. You’re safe.”
Was she? Would this creep think she could identify him and come looking for her? Come after her with his gun, or even worse, try to strangle her again?
A full-on shudder claimed her body, and despite her efforts to fight back her tears, they started flowing. She tried to stop them, willed them away, but to no avail.
“Aw, no. Don’t cry.” Noah’s arms went around her and he drew her close.
She’d forgotten the feel of a man’s embrace other than from a friend, the warmth and tenderness, and she moved even closer, sobbing hard and soaking his shirt. She willingly reveled in his warmth and pushed to the recesses of her mind all thoughts of why allowing him to care for her was wrong.
She needed him. Just now. Not later. Never again. Just now.
He cradled her head and held her. Minute after minute. Standing strong. His arms enveloping her. Her fear receding. Calm returning and, along with it, her common sense. She allowed herself a few more moments to accept Noah’s compassion that eased the chill from her heart, but when her tears fully subsided, she couldn’t find an excuse to stay in his arms so she freed herself and looked up at him.
“Better?” he asked, his gaze tender as he pressed a wayward strand of hair behind her ear.
She didn’t know how to reply and silence hung heavy between them. She should fill the quiet with words, with something, but she didn’t want to admit that outside of his arms she felt afraid. If she did, he would insist on protecting her and that wouldn’t be good for either of them. Nor would she lie and say she was okay.
She opted to simply take another step back and ignore his question. “Do you think my attacker will try to finish what he started?”
“If he thinks you can identify him, yes.” Frowning, Noah flipped a page in his notebook. “If the attack was random—just you being in the wrong place at the wrong time—then there’s a good chance he won’t know where to find you. But there’s always the possibility that he specifically targeted you. If that’s the case, then he might know your name or how to track you down. Have you thought of a possible motive for the attack?”
“Motive? No. I have no idea who he is or why he did this. He was just suddenly there, behind me, grabbing me around the throat.” She touched her neck, feeling the tenderness.
Noah ground his teeth for a moment. “Do you think the attack could be related to your work? Like maybe you treated a guy on one of your ambulance runs, and he’s mad at you for some reason?”
“It’s possible, I suppose.” She paused to think about it. “I see people when they’re in crisis. Sometimes it sets them off, but to attack me for it? Seems far-fetched. And I don’t remember a patient who looks like him, but maybe.” She shrugged. “I treat so many people in a day...”
“Still, I’m thinking you’d remember someone mad enough to want to kill you.”
“I hope so. If I don’t, I’m not very in tune with the care they need. Which likely means this isn’t related to work.”
He jotted a note on his pad. “I’ll still request a list of your callouts for the last few weeks, and we’ll start there.”
“We?” she asked, the word fighting its way up her throat. “You’re going to be working this case?”
“The jerk was shooting to kill. He’ll be charged with attempted murder and that falls within homicide’s purview.” He studied her, his eyes a piercing gray instead of the usual muted blue. “Is that a problem?”
Of course it is. On a personal level. But what about the professional? It was a blessing to have a top Portland detective working this investigation. “I’m sure you’ll do a great job.”
He shoved his notebook into his pocket. “I’ll get the description out to patrol, then escort you home. If I know your squad, they’ll want to hear the whole story, and you can give me your full statement then.”
“Whole story? You think they’ll stop at that? They’re going to want to see the forensic evidence, too.” Despite her ongoing fear, the thought of her teammates having her back made her smile. “And they’ll hound you during this investigation to make sure you’re doing everything you can to bring this guy in. So be prepared.”
“No worries there.” His expression sobered. “I won’t stop until this creep is behind bars.”
The dedication in his voice surprised her, and she didn’t know how to respond so she simply stared at him. As if embarrassed at the emotions he’d displayed, he suddenly spun and pushed open Pilar’s door.
At the sound of Isabel’s voice, Darcie grabbed Noah’s arm. “Wait.”
He turned, his hand resting on the slightly open door. “What is it?”
“Since you’ve been helping with Isabel you should know that Isabel and Pilar will be staying with me in my condo.”
His eyes narrowed. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“The condo is small and we’ll be a little cramped, but with the gunshot wound Pilar can’t care for Isabel so I’ll be taking over.”
“I’m not talking about the accommodations.” He made strong eye contact. “Since we know nothing about the shooter, this incident could be related to your relationship with Pilar and Isabel.”
“Pilar and Isabel? How?”
“Mayte may be in rehab, but she still has deep connections with the drug world.” He scrubbed a hand over his face as if the thought made him weary. “Based on the clothing the suspect wore, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was a gangster, and you know that means drugs. They could be trying to send a warning to Mayte.”
Darcie swiveled to look through the open doorway at Isabel. If this incident was related to her mother’s past, it was an even more compelling reason to put Isabel under the protection of the FRS at the restored firehouse where they all lived together. No matter what Noah said or thought.
Darcie widened her stance and planted her feet as she often did with unruly patients to let them know she was in charge. “Pilar has to spend the night here, but Isabel will be coming home with me today and I will pick up Pilar tomorrow.”
Noah released the door and stepped close enough that she could see slivers of black mixing with the gray in his eyes. “Let me be clear about this, Darcie, so you know the risk. If we’re dealing with gangbangers, they won’t