CHAPTER 1
Regina pulled her police cruiser to a halt outside the dilapidated old farmhouse and radioed her twenty. The house was draped in darkness despite someone reporting lights in the abandoned place. Her gaze swept the area, but she detected no movement.
She opened the door and stepped into the night. An uneasy sensation gripped her stomach, and not questioning her instincts, she requested backup. She stood in the open door, one hand resting on the top of the car, the other resting on the stock of her gun. Jeremy was just five minutes away and was already en route to her location.
A high-pitched scream shattered the stillness. Regina grabbed her weapon and broke into a run. She stopped at the front door, gun held high, and pressed her ear to the wood, straining to hear what she could. Only the buzz of locusts and the cacophony of tree frogs echoed through the night.
Gritting her teeth, she stepped back, gripped the stock in one hand and threw open the door with her other.
She swept the room with her pistol but saw no sign of the woman who had screamed. Her heart racing, she slid along the wall, her ears and eyes straining for noise, movement.
She almost tripped over the body.
Keeping her gaze up, she slowly knelt, reaching down with her left hand to feel for a pulse. The body was still warm, but there was no pulse. Her hand came away sticky with blood. Son of a bitch. She had moved her hand to her radio to call it in when she sensed another presence. Before she could react, her head exploded in pain.
Her gun went flying in one direction, and she sailed in the other. She landed in a heap several feet away, sucking air into her bruised lungs like a fish out of water. Holy hell, what had hit her?
She scrambled to her knees and lunged for her gun. A large boot connected with her jaw, and she did a complete roll in the air, landing again on her side.
Fighting unconsciousness, she shook out the cobwebs and lashed out with her foot. She heard a soft grunt and knew she’d connected with his kneecap.
Fire swept over her scalp when a beefy hand grabbed her hair and yanked her up. Fingers wrapped around her left wrist and twisted cruelly. She cried out and once again found herself flying through the air. She hit the wall and slid down like a deflated balloon.
Where the fuck are you, Jeremy?
Another blow to her head made the world go hazy around her. She opened her eyes to see the blurred face of a man leering close. His hand closed around her neck, squeezing slowly, drawing out the moment of her death.
“I’ve been waiting for you, Reggie love. It’s time to make him pay.”
The voice sounded like a hiss in her ear. Sinister. Full of dark promise.
“Make who pay?” she croaked.
He laughed softly, and spots filled her vision. In the distance she heard a car. The fingers tightened around her neck. He was too late. Jeremy hadn’t gotten there in time. Goddamn it, she didn’t want to die.
Drawing on the short adrenaline burst, she jabbed her fingers into her attacker’s eyes and rammed her knee into his balls. He grunted, and his hold loosened just as she heard Jeremy’s shout.
Suddenly she was free, but she was fighting to remain conscious. She slumped to the floor. A moment later, Jeremy was over her, shouting into his radio and running his hands over her body all at the same time.
“Regina, damn it, don’t you dare die on me.”
“Get him,” she rasped. “Out the back. He went out the back.”
“I’m not leaving you,” he said grimly.
“Don’t let him fucking get away. I’m okay. He killed her. Go get him.”
Jeremy swore and got to his feet. She heard the pounding of his footsteps as he ran out the back door, and she lay there, fear, relief and pain rushing through her veins.
Soon, the pain took over, and the room further dimmed around her, causing her a moment of panic. She fought, but couldn’t manage to keep the veil of darkness from falling.
This shit wasn’t supposed to happen in her pissant town, damn it.
Cam Douglas studied the building plans in front of him with the niggling feeling that something was off. He frowned in irritation as the television grew louder, and Sawyer and Hutch gave a whoop when Houston scored.
He dropped his pencil and glared at his two partners. “Don’t you have TVs in your offices? Is there a reason you’re watching the game in mine when I’m trying to work?”
Neither paid much attention. They were glued to the game. Cam cleared his throat. Hutch held up a placating hand.
