Chapter 17

SEVENTEEN

Kenzie wanted to sleep. She was tired, but sleep was a couple hours off and she now had time to circle back to her mother's death. She'd been avoiding thinking about it even while it was never far from her mind. She'd give just about anything to be at that meeting in the morning with Cole, but she promised to stay out of it, so she would.

She took out her phone and saw the string of text messages and groaned. Kristine, Lainie, James, Jesslyn, Allison, and Steph had all sent her messages asking if she was okay.

She tapped a response to the group.

I'm fine. Cole just left. Now I'm going to start going through my grandmother's storage room because it's about time and I HAVE the time.

Or she could go put in some hours at the hospital, but her side was sore and she frankly just didn't want to. She hadn't had a moment to herself in a while, so some alone time might be a good thing.

Want some help?

I can come help.

Help is just a text away.

She grinned at the responses and a wave of gratitude washed over her. She shot back a text to say thanks and she'd let them know. So this was what it felt like to have a community of friends, people who had her back and were concerned about her well-being. She'd hoped she'd find that with the guys in the unit. Hadn't really expected to in the beginning, but had hoped that by now they'd trust her and have her back.

Unfortunately, real life was different from the television shows that had women on their SWAT teams. The guys still didn't consider her an integral part of the team. No matter that she'd proved herself over and over. She glanced at her phone once more and took a deep breath. It didn't matter. As long as she had this group. That had kept her going more than once over the last six months.

She walked into the storage room and flipped the light on. "Good grief, Grandma Betsy, how'd you get so much stuff?" She set up the card table, grabbed the nearest box, and pulled the top off. Stuffed animals? From a hundred years ago most likely. Even if it was just thirty years ago, she wasn't touching them. "Ick." She slapped the top back on and carried the box to the outside trash can.

On the fourth trip, she paused. The trash can was just around the side of her garage wall, and each time she hauled stuff to it, she waved to her bodyguard. Except now, the officer wasn't there. She reached for her phone, only to remember she'd left it on the card table in the storage room. In the house with the alarm momentarily disarmed. "Great."

Her skin pricked and the hair on the nape of her neck bristled, just as goose bumps pebbled her arms. "Who's there? What do you want?"

Silence.

Then a slight rustle to her left in the shadows.

She spun to run back to the house. A hard arm closed around her throat, and she grabbed the forearm with both hands and stepped back to ram her hip into the person's midsection. He grunted and she bent forward, flipping him over her head. Her side protested, but she ignored it and he landed on the cement. She dove for him, her knee digging into his solar plexus. The sound that came from him wasn't pleasant, but she pressed harder—until he swung his right hand and something hard connected with her head. She cried out, falling away from him while stars danced in her vision. She managed to roll to her knees. A wave of nausea stunned her just long enough for him to place the barrel of a gun against her head. He dragged her to her feet and she froze, her back to him, the gun still there.

"What do you want?" She hated that the words came out on a strangled gasp.

"You gone. Quit the team or die."

She spun and stared into his masked face—and the barrel now lined up with her nose. "What?"

"Hey!"

The shout from across the street froze the guy for a millisecond, but it was long enough for Kenzie to grasp the wrist attached to the hand with the gun and shove it up. She brought up her knee, aiming to do as much damage as possible, but he twisted, shoved her back to the drive, and took off, disappearing back around the side of the house. Kenzie scrambled to her knees, her side throbbing, head pounding.

Where was her protection?

"Kenzie?" Mrs. Arnold, in her early seventies and clutching her pink bathrobe at her throat, hurried from across the street. "Are you all right? I called 911."

"I'm okay. Thank you." Kenzie pulled in a breath and winced at the pain in her side. Okay, she may have pulled one of her stitches.

"Who was that?" The poor woman trembled.

"I don't know. I'm going to file a police report. You don't have a video doorbell, do you?"

"No, but after tonight, I might consider it. Honestly, I don't understand what this world is coming to. Being attacked in your own drive."

"It's okay." Sirens sounded in the distance. "When the cops get here, can you give them your statement? I'll talk to them when you're finished."

"Of course."

"Thanks. Tell them to knock when you're done."

She ran—okay, hobbled —inside, hand pressed to her side, grabbed her phone, and tapped Officer Butte's number. "Yeah?"

"This is Kenzie. Where the heck are you?"

"Got a DV call a half a mile away—husband had a gun."

"Right. Thanks so much for letting me know."

"I texted you, Kenzie. I'm sorry."

"Right. And when I didn't respond, you couldn't call?"

"No, I was already at the—What's going on? Are you okay?"

She sucked in a steadying breath. "Yeah. I'm fine."

And she was. Other than aggravating her wound, a throbbing headache, and a blinding rage that continued to build.

But she was fine.

"Kenzie, I'm on the way back," Butte said. "When I got to the address, it was an empty lot in a new subdivision."

So, he'd been pulled off by the guy who attacked her. She had no proof, of course, but she still knew it. The guy couldn't have known her bodyguard would be the officer to respond, but being that close, he would have been the most likely to do so.

When she'd done everything with reporting the incident and everyone was finally gone, she locked herself in her house, armed the alarm, placed her Glock on the nightstand, and finally settled in her bed prepared for a sleepless night. She should call Cole and tell him what happened, but the thought of him coming over was too much to deal with. She'd fill him in tomorrow. Fury at the situation boiled with no outlet because she wasn't about to go downstairs for a workout.

Her attacker had been watching her home and she'd given him the opportunity to strike. She'd figured with the officer watching, the guy wouldn't be so bold as to strike and she'd be safe.

She wouldn't make that mistake again.

SATURDAY MORNING Cole walked into Cornerstone Café and spotted Sherry at the far corner table. She'd parked herself against the wall, her eyes on the door. She wore a floppy hat, sunglasses, and a dark red dress. He checked his phone, thankful for no SWAT calls, and slid into the booth opposite her. "Hey."

She pulled the sunglasses off, but kept her head tilted down. He glanced above her head. The camera wouldn't pick her up the way she'd jammed herself against the wall with the floppy hat. There would be footage of her walking to the table, but with her hat and shades, no one would be able to tell it was her. She followed his gaze. "That's the only camera in here that works. Overheard the manager tell that to someone who had her wallet lifted from her purse last time I was in here."

He nodded. "All right, wanna tell me why all the cloak-and-dagger?"

"Wanna tell me why you're looking into a twenty-year-old closed case?"

"Because I have three reports and one of them is doctored. I believe the other two are the real deal. The first shows DNA in the stolen vehicle used in an accident that killed Hannah King and paralyzed Ben King. The other shows that the brakes on the former chief of police's car were cut. The doctored one says no such thing and the cause of the accident wasn't due to any kind of mechanical failure, but rather was human error."

She paled. "How did you get them? Why do you have them?"

"They were sent anonymously to the chief. He gave them to me. I have them because he wants me to look into the accident that he's believed all along was no accident. Now, who could have given him those documents?"

"Well, you obviously thought it was me."

"Let's just say you were on the list as one person who could have done it, not necessarily who actually did it."

She sighed. "Well, I did."

"Why the secrecy? Why not just tell Ben what you know? You had to realize this would come back to you."

"I was willing to take the chance."

"Where's Cliff now?"

She licked her lips. "He's dying. Pancreatic cancer. He said he had only one regret and this case was it."

"So he wants to set the record straight before he dies."

Sherry nodded.

"I need to talk to him."

"Cole, he's probably already gone. His wife texted me three weeks ago and said he didn't have much longer. Days, maybe. We arranged to meet. She gave me the files, told me what was going on, and made me promise not to try to find Cliff or tell anyone anything. I was to deliver the package to Ben King and go on about my life like that wasn't a blip on my radar, because if anyone found out I knew what Cliff knew, then I could be in danger."

"Because the person responsible is still out there."

"Yes."

"Did Mrs. Hamilton say who it was?"

"No. And yes, I asked. She said Cliff refused to tell her, that she was safer not knowing."

He sighed and rubbed his eyes. "All right, so this means that someone cut the brake line, Chief King ran the stop sign, and Mrs. King, Kenzie's mom, was murdered and someone attempted to do the same to the chief." He took a sip of the coffee she'd ordered him. "Somebody went to a lot of trouble to make this happen, and somebody else went to a lot of trouble to cover it up. I want to know who those somebodies are."

"Well, I can't help you there, I'm sorry. I thought Cliff and I were good friends. I never thought he'd do something like this, but he did. Then ran."

"Which means he was scared. Scared he'd get caught or just plain scared of the people who asked him to hide evidence of a murder."

"Probably both."

"Yes. Probably." He sighed. "Tell me this. Do you know anything about Shady Talbot and his role in the accident?"

"I assumed he stole the car and crashed it. I knew who he was from the media surrounding his case."

Then someone had doctored the results of the alcohol blood level test for the chief and...

And what? Who hated him so much to go to all that trouble?

"Then Shady was found dead of a drug overdose while awaiting trial for murder," Cole muttered. "Which isn't suspicious because he was definitely an addict, but how in the world did he make bail?"

"I don't know, but the fact that he did is as shady as his name."

"Yeah." His phone buzzed and he glanced at it. Carl Butte, the officer on Kenzie's home. "Sorry, I need to take this."

"Of course."

He swiped and held the phone to his ear. "Hey, Carl, everything all right?"

"That's what I was trying to find out. I got called off King's home last night to a fake DV report. Got there and it was an empty lot in a new subdivision. Kenzie called wanting to know where I was. She sounded shook but insisted she was fine. Turns out she reported an assault during the time I was gone."

"You left and you didn't let her know?" He almost shouted the words and several patrons looked in his direction. Sherry slid lower in the booth.

"I texted her, man, but I guess she didn't look at her phone."

Cole got a grip on his emotions. "Didn't think to call her?" The question came out between gritted teeth, but at least he'd lowered the volume.

"No time. I was already pulling in by the time the text went. When I realized it wasn't a legit call, I was about to call her when she called me first. I was gone a whole ten minutes."

"And we all know it takes a lot less time than that to kill someone."

"Yeah. All I can do is say sorry and be thankful she's all right."

"I know you are. I'm just bent out of shape about what could have happened. Thanks for filling me in."

He hung up with Carl and looked at Sherry. "I've got to go."

"Sounds like you have a friend in trouble."

"I do."

"Is it related to this thing with Cliff?"

"I don't know. I don't see how except through the link with Shady, which might just be a coincidence." He frowned. But was it? "This thing with Cliff is new, but enlightening." He stood and placed a twenty on the table. "I got this. Thanks for meeting me."

"Will you let me know what you find out?"

"Of course."

He left and hurried to his car, then aimed himself toward Kenzie's home.