Dozens of red and blue flashing lights lasered the night sky.

The sight confirmed Deke’s worst fear.

Evie was in trouble.

Police vehicles from several different agencies littered the pharmacy parking lot and volunteer firemen rushed back and forth between the two RVs.

One engine sprayed the fire-consumed staff RV and another battled to tamp down a smaller flame at the back of the Med Mobile.

What the fuck?

Evie and Lisa were nowhere to be found.

“Dylan, stay in the truck.”

“No way—”

“To that horde of officers out there, you’re a person of interest for Gracie’s murder. Somehow I don’t think you popping up in their midst is going to be productive.”

Dylan slouched in his seat and crossed his arms. “Still playing big brother.”

“Be glad he has been,” Britt said. “Or you’d be rotting in a prison cell by now.”

Deke and Britt slammed their doors and took off at a run.

“There’s Lisa,” Britt said, pointing at an ambulance. “I’ll see what she knows.”

Another ambulance rolled into the parking lot, passing him. The vehicle stopped outside the smoldering Med Mobile. Two EMTs grabbed a gurney from the back and stationed it near the RV’s side door, where smoke streamed upward from the corners. They went inside.

Thunderous pounding shook his chest as he sprinted toward the RV. A million scenarios streaked through his mind’s eye—all of them gruesome, none of the good for Evie’s well-being.

By the time he reached the crowd of milling officers and deputies, an EMT appeared in the doorway, coughing. Behind, a black body bag. He and his partner descended the stairs and placed the corpse on the gurney.

Deke lost his mind.

He shoved uniformed men and women out of his way like a bowling ball careening through a set of pins. Grabbing the nearest EMT, he demanded in a voice he didn’t recognize, “Who’s in the bag?”

When the EMT stared at him, he got into his face and yelled, “Who’s in the fucking body bag?”

Rough hands yanked him back. He fought them off, throwing kicks and punches and elbows. Within seconds, he was on the ground, surrounded by a half dozen uniforms, hands cuffed behind his back. He craned his neck around to look at the black bag.

“Who’s in the bag?”

“Well, well, well,” an oily voice said, “if it isn’t fed man Deke Conrad showing up at another crime scene.”

“Prickett.” He struggled against his restraints. “Who’s in the bag?”

“Why don’t you tell me, you sick bastard?”

Rage like nothing he’d felt before boiled to the surface. “Get these handcuffs off me and tell me who’s in the bag!”

“What’d you do with the murder weapon, Conrad?”

“You’re taking this high school feud too far, Prickett. If you don’t uncuff me in the next ten seconds, you’re going to hear from my lawyer.”

“I’m going to hear from your lawyer either way, so I might as well enjoy the sight while it lasts.”

His burning gaze sought the bag again. The gurney was gone. Angling around as best he could with an officer kneeling on his back, he searched for the bag and found it at the back of the ambulance, about to be loaded. Beyond the ambulance, he caught sight of Dylan rushing toward him. He shook his head and shouted, “No!”

His brother halted, his chest heaving, his eyes stormy.

He shook his head.

“Who’re you talking to, fed man?” Prickett strode forward.

“Who’s in the goddamn bag, Prickett?” He began to fight in earnest again, giving Dylan time to disappear. “Is it Evie?”

Prickett smiled down at him. “Do you mean the delectable Evie Steele?”

“Britt!” he roared at the top of his lungs. “Britt, stop them!”

In a blink, his friend was at his side. “What’s going on?”

“The bag,” he panted. “Is it Evie? These bastards won’t tell me.”

Britt’s spine straightened to its full, upright length. His shoulders widened to their impressive width. By anyone’s standards, he was a big, big guy. When pissed? Damn threatening.

“I’m Britt Steele.” He held out his driver’s license. “Evelyn Steele’s my youngest sister. My cousin, Maggie Kingston, is the sheriff in Haywood County.” He nodded toward the bag. “If you believe that’s my sister, open the fucking bag so I can identify her.”

A muscle below Prickett’s right eye twitched, and purple-red blotches appeared on his cheeks and chin, giving him a maniacal doll-like appearance. “The victim’s name is Rachel Gardner.”

Relief flooded the backs of his eyes. He blinked against the stinging sensation while some of the tension released its grip on his body.

Evie wasn’t in the bag. Evie wasn’t in the bag. Thank you, Lord.

Where was she? Not in the RV, or she would’ve come running when she heard the commotion outside.

Unless there was a second body bag inside.

“Why is Deke restrained?”

“He attacked several deputies.”

“Before or after you refused to identify the body?”

“Doesn’t matter. Assault is assault.”

“Good luck finding a jury willing to convict a man who was out of his mind with grief.”

“Is anyone else inside, Prickett?” he asked.

Prickett stared at him, a smirk on his face.

“Sergeant, is my sister inside?” Britt’s voice was hard, deadly.

“No.”

“Uncuff me, Prickett. Enough’s enough.”

“Not until you tell me your whereabouts for the last two hours.”

“Britt can vouch for my whereabouts. I was with him and a small group of men near Creede when I got a call from Evie. She told me about the fire, and we came right away.”

“I’m going to need the name and telephone numbers of all your alibis.”

“Fine. Now the cuffs.”

Prickett motioned for another officer to free him. When he jumped to his feet, Pricket backed up a step.

“Sergeant Prickett,” a new voice said, “what’s going on here?”

Prickett sent him a scorching glare before answering. “A misunderstanding, Chief. We mistook Conrad for the killer.”

“Conrad?” Chief Middleton studied him more closely. “What are you doing here?”

“One of the Med Mobile nurses—Evie Steele—called me. I came right away.”

“Ah, yes, Miss Steele. Your other partner-in-crime.” The chief peered around. “Where’s the victim?”

“Loaded in the ambulance,” Prickett said. “Throat cut. Same as Gracie Gilbert.”

Middleton eyed Deke. “Do you know anything about this, son?”

“I’ve got some ideas.”

“Don’t need any ideas. Got all those I can stomach.”

“Can we talk about it inside the RV? I’d like to take a look around.”

“So you can destroy the evidence?” Prickett asked. “Absolutely not.”

Middleton turned his gray eyes on Prickett. “Last I heard, I held the chief’s title and appear to be the highest-ranking member of law enforcement here, at the moment.”

“He could be involved in this,” Prickett said.

“Could be. Could be not.” He motioned for Deke to follow him into the RV. “I’ll wrangle up enough intelligence to make sure he doesn’t move the evidence tape.” He ascended the stairs. “Smoke’s not too bad.”

He peered at Britt. “You coming?”

“I’ll do some digging out here.”

When he entered the RV, the front cabin and exam room one appeared normal and untouched, but for a large pool of blood at the base of the exam table. The rear was a complete loss.

“What happened, Chief?”

“We have ourselves an open investigation. Wouldn’t be right to share the details.”

“Would you being willing to discuss them with a special agent with the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service?”

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“Is this special agent working the same case?”

“Yes, he is, but from a different angle.”

“Then we have ourselves an interdepartmental cooperation.”

“What do you know so far?”

“The arsonist used Molotovs to set both RVs on fire. One to the front and back of the staff RV and one to the rear of the Med Mobile.”

Nodding toward the blood, he asked, “What happened?”

“According to Miss Frye, your Miss Steele decided to check on Miss Gardner and move this RV away from the fire. When the RV didn’t move and Miss Steele didn’t appear, Miss Frye asked an officer to check on her. Evidently, Miss Steele had thought a man was following her across the parking lot, earlier.”

“Did your officer speak to Evie?”

“Sure did. Prickett said she appeared a little sad, but otherwise okay. She gave him a description of the stalker.”

“Did Prickett ask to step inside, so he could verify the guy wasn’t on the opposite side of the door, pointing a gun at Evie’s head?”

“Can’t say that he did.”

“Is that protocol?”

“No, it’s not.” Chief clipped his thumbs inside his duty belt. “I’ll be getting to the bottom of why.” His fingers rubbed over the evening scruff growing on his chin. “Prickett checked on the women ten minutes later and found one dead and the other missing.”

“Missing? How is it that none of the emergency personnel saw this guy take Evie?”

“We don’t know that he did.”

“What other conclusion’s possible?”

“Maybe she ran.”

The thought of Evie running for her life down the streets and alleyways, trying to evade her attacker, flipped his stomach.

“Why wouldn’t she have doubled back and sought help?”

“There’re more reasons than one for running.”

He stared at the chief, uncomprehending. “Are you insinuating that she had something to do with her friend’s murder?”

“The best of us are capable of the worst in us, with proper motivation.”

“No, not Evie. Not for something like this.” Deke circled the crime scene. “Did the body have any evidence of defensive wounds?”

“No.”

“Hesitation marks?”

“None. He made one deep, clean cut.”

“The stalker appears to be an old hand at slicing throats.”

“Now there’s a conclusion that doesn’t sit well, does it?”

“No, sir.” Rubbing the back of his neck, he pressed the chief again. “No one saw Evie or the guy exit the RV?”

“We suspect they used the driver’s side door. I’ve dispatched deputies in all directions.”

Striding to the front of the cabin, he maneuvered into the driver’s seat. His hands ached to smooth over the steering wheel. The last place Evie’d likely touched. She must be so scared. Had the bastard hurt her? Was it Eli Harwood? Had to be. Everything’s pointing to him with big, neon red arrows.

But he didn’t have his mom’s psychic ability, and her gift had only ever worked with her immediate family.

“In your investigation of Gracie Gilbert, have you come across any evidence related to Eli Harwood—or the Harwood clan?”

“Harwood,” Chief repeated in a flat tone. “Is that the bright idea you spoke of earlier?”

Eyeing the sheriff, he wondered if he’d made a fatal mistake. Could the sheriff and Blaze Harwood be pals? They were of a similar age. Both elected officials. Worked together at the city.

“Any evidence of Harwood’s involvement?” he asked again.

“Your brother’s our only suspect, so far. Heard from him?”

“As I mentioned during my interrogation, my family and I are estranged. I know little of their comings and goings.”

Chief Middleton’s attention moved to a spot beyond Deke’s shoulder. His eyes narrowed before sharpening on Deke once again. “Looks like your brother’s got something he wants to share with you.”

Angling around, he found Dylan crouching behind a dumpster, motioning for Deke to join him.

So much for staying put.

As he reached for the door handle, Prickett and a deputy emerged from the shadows and shoved his brother to the ground.