Shane pulled the ice pack his neighbor had given him off his head, grimacing at the stiffness in his arm as he lowered his hand. He hated being unable to use either arm while holding it there, and it was about time he gave the ice a break anyway. He didn’t think he’d been hit badly enough to do any real damage, but it was hard to tell when his head was slowly going numb.

He passed the cold pack to his neighbor, who put it on the floor outside her apartment door and turned back to Shane, fussing over him. He smiled. “I’m alright, Mrs. J, but thank you.” A sweet older lady, Irene Johnson always had a smile for Shane, even when he was getting home at the crack of dawn after shift. Also, apparently, when he knocked on her door out of nowhere with a head injury.

She’d sat on the stairs with him, despite his protests that he’d be fine and she should go back to her apartment where she could use a chair. She’d waved him aside when he’d tried to feel the back of his head, telling him to sit back and let Auntie Irene take care of it. Despite the worry that still lingered, Shane had sat back and let her do her thing. Scott was with Charlie for now, but after his phone call, they were both bound to show up at any second. Until they did, he’d let Mrs. J poke at his head and try to ply him with cups of tea.

He’d drunk half the cup after reassuring Mrs. J that he was really a paramedic and knew whether or not he should drink anything after being whacked in the head. Shane was nearly bowled over again as Charlie flew in the door to the apartment lobby and threw herself into his arms. His good arm automatically came around her, holding her tightly against him, and she buried her head in his shoulder. Shane sent a look over her shoulder at Scott—a clear male What the hell, Man?

“Herman Langley isn’t Herman Langley,” Scott said by way of greeting, and Charlie’s hold tightened around him.

“It’s my fault,” she said, half-hiccupping in Shane’s ear. She pulled away and moved behind him, taking over Mrs. J’s fussing, rather than look him in the eye.

“Charlie?” He twisted, trying to catch her gaze, and the look in her eyes when he finally did almost broke his heart.

“I should have known who he was,” she said, her voice catching. “I should have recognized him.” She told Shane the story, in small, halting parts, Scott trying to fill in any blanks when she’d stop and seem to stare into the distance. As each part fell out of her, Shane’s emotions pitched and weaved—confusion, anger, guilt, and then back to anger. He’d had the man—right there! The man who’d nearly killed Charlie years before, and who had been torturing her now, had been standing right in front of him, and all Shane had managed to do was fall over.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Scott said. “Any more than any of this is Charlie’s.” He pinned her with a sharp gaze, and Shane felt a surge of thanks toward the man. Shane could tell her that himself a thousand times, and she would never have believed him. Perhaps coming from Scott, a friend they both trusted and a cop, Charlie would actually take it on board.

“But why now?” she asked. “Why is he here, and attacking Shane of all things? His beef should be with me.”

A thought slammed into Shane’s mind—one that made him see red and want to throw up all at once. “Charlie, you said you stopped him from killing Mary?”

She tilted her head, eyes down a little but still watching him. “Yes. We circled each other for what seemed like hours. Probably wasn’t, but at the time it felt like if I let my guard down for one second, then he would have killed me, too.”

“And you suspect he killed others?”

At that, anger of her own flared in her eyes. For once, he was damn grateful to see it. It meant Charlie would fight this—fight the bastard if she ever had to. Shane would die before he let Langley get his hands on her, but he was grateful to know she’d be kicking and screaming if it came to it. Especially with the thought he now couldn’t get out of his head.

“What if he’s here to finish the job?”

* * *

Shane looked over at Charlie. She was still sitting on Mrs. J’s sofa. Still deep in thought, looking over at him every now and then, concern and worry evident in her eyes. Shit. She’d obviously taken what had happened to him to heart, blaming herself. That made him angry all over again. If Scott was right, if it really was this Scranton bastard, then absolutely none of this was on her. He shifted the ice pack, scowling, and then forced his face to relax again when an alarmed look came over Charlie’s face and she stood to make her way over to him. “I’m fine,” he said to her, waving a hand back toward the couch. “Sit.” Shane forced a smile. “I’m just cranky.”

His attempt at humor fell flat, Charlie unsurprisingly not in the mood. “He could have killed you!”

Now that bothered Shane, more than he was going to admit in front of Charlie. Not that Scranton had come after him. He could handle himself, even with one arm almost literally tied behind his back. He held back a snort at the thought.

Charlie would have his head if she knew what he was thinking. She was no pushover, could scare you into confessing what you’d done to Matt’s lunch, or any knowledge of Jeremy’s latest prank, even if it was going to land you in hot water, too. Out on calls, he’d seen her face off angry junkies or pissed off businessmen with the same care and compassion she gave their most elderly or vulnerable patients. He frowned. When it came down to it, though, she was half his size. Small and slim, Charlie wouldn’t stand a chance if Scranton had wrapped his hands around her neck instead of Shane’s. If it hadn’t been for the heavy flashlight she’d been holding when he’d attacked her down at the hill . . . he didn’t want to think about what might have happened then.

But why had she been able to escape? For that matter, why was he still alive, sitting here to worry about her? True, he’d managed to inflict some damage on the bastard, but if Scranton had really wanted to kill him, Shane would have been toast. He dropped the ice pack and flexed his shoulder, unable to suppress the wince as it rotated. He’d probably set the healing back a couple of days by struggling with Scranton. It had kept him alive . . .

But it shouldn’t have.

And that was the problem his brain kept coming back to. Had Langley, Scranton—whoever he was—attacked both of them unarmed? Whichever way he looked at it, even with Charlie’s size, it was an incredibly risky thing to do. Had Scranton had a knife, or even a gun, shoved in a pocket or the waistband of his pants? He could have watched them both, known that they didn’t carry anything, but still. Shane’s eyes hardened as his mind reached the only conclusion.

Scranton hadn’t wanted to kill them.

The bastard was playing, toying with them. But then what the hell was his end goal?

His train of thought was interrupted by Scott. Shane owed him big time. He’d treated Charlie with tact and compassion when they’d found out Scranton’s identity. He hadn’t pushed her or made her feel guilty for not recognizing the guy. Even now, he kept a close eye on both of them while pacing back and forth outside Mrs. J’s apartment. Shane didn’t need his sympathy, but he was happy Charlie had someone else who knew the whole story to keep an eye out for her. Now, Scott stepped inside the apartment, not looking any happier than when he and Charlie had first arrived. “Jesse’s on his way over,” Scott said. “He got a hit back on Scranton’s DNA.”

Okay. That was good news, wasn’t it? Shane opened his mouth to ask when Scott caught his gaze. Scott’s wandered to Charlie for just over a second and then he gave a tiny shake of his head. Shane’s jaw snapped shut and he clenched it so tightly his molars complained. What the hell was Charlie going to have to face now?

He didn’t have to wait long to find out. Less than five minutes after he’d called Scott’s cell, Jesse arrived at the apartment in person. Shane stood, moving over to sit next to Charlie on the couch. He half expected her to lean in and examine his head wound again. This time, he’d sit still and let her. She could do with the distraction. But instead, she barely moved, sitting upright and still and staring at Jesse.

“Was it him?” she asked. “Was Daryl Scranton the one who attacked Shane?”

Jesse sat down opposite them in the chair Shane had just vacated while Scott moved back to the doorway, taking up his sentry position again. This time he wasn’t on his phone. His body was turned ever so slightly toward them, and Shane had a feeling Scott was listening in to every word. Charlie didn’t even seem to notice the shift. Her gaze was locked on Jesse, her hands gripping her knees as she still sat ramrod straight on the couch. She was waiting for Jesse’s reply, Shane realized, and the fact Jesse was taking his time delivering it scared him more than he wanted to admit.

“I can’t tell you that for sure,” Jesse said. “It takes time to process DNA. A couple of days for the tests, and then there’s the paperwork and then any backup at the lab.”

Charlie finally moved, tilting her head to the side, one hand still tugging at a small rip on her jeans. She’d been working the same spot ever since she’d gotten to his apartment block, the tear going from the size you could barely fit a pinky through to now revealing her leg easily. “I don’t understand. If it’s not related to the case, then why are you here?”

Jesse’s gaze softened. “We did find Scranton’s DNA here in Monroe. But it wasn’t at Shane’s apartment.” He shifted forward in his seat, taking in a breath and then talking again. “We have the scrapings from under your nails from the ER, and we’ll definitely test those for a match, but Charlie, the DNA result that came back today was from Cody Sever’s apartment.”

Charlie paled, the blood draining from her face. She swayed slightly in her seat, and Shane reached out to steady her before she fell over. “What?” Her voice was quiet. Fuck his shoulder. He needed to hold her more.

Shane slipped his arm out of the sling and pulled her into his arms, ignoring the protests from his muscles. Given the events of the past two days, he needed to be able to use both arms—immediately. The pain mattered less than protecting Charlie. “What the hell is going on, Jesse?”

Jesse glanced over to Scott, who had now given up all pretense of hiding his listening in and walked over to join them. “We’re both staying on this case.” He caught Charlie’s gaze. “We will catch him. I give my word.”

Charlie’s gaze ping-ponged between them. “I don’t understand. Scranton was at Cody’s house? I didn’t see him.”

“I don’t think he was there when you got the call,” Jesse said.

“So he was following me even then?”

Another look passed between Jesse and Scott, and Shane didn’t like it. At all. “You think something else is going on, don’t you?” he said.

Jesse nodded. “I think Scranton was there before you even got the call.”

Scott’s cell chose that moment to ring loudly, making Charlie flinch in Shane’s arms.

Scott jumped up, swearing even louder when he saw the number on the screen. “What?!” he growled into the phone.

His eyes widened and his jaw set, his lips pressing together. After listening for a few seconds, he hung up the phone and turned to them. “Jesse, we have to go.”

No way. Not until Shane found out what they weren’t telling him. “Who was that on the phone?” His voice was low but almost forced. At that point, he didn’t care that Scott was a friend of Seth’s. He almost didn’t care that the guy had helped Charlie that morning. He only cared about what the fuck was going on right now that Scott wasn’t talking about.

Scott slipped his cell into his coat pocket and ran his fingers through his hair. “Fine. My boss is already mad as hell at me for insisting I get this case. That was dispatch on the phone. Your arsonist has struck again.”

Shane’s jaw clenched. He could almost feel a pulse ticking in his ears. “Where?”

“That’s the bit I’m not supposed to tell you. You’re not active duty right now, either of you.”

The pulse moved from a tick to a throb, hard and fast. “Where?”

Scott huffed out a breath. “Chief Stone’s house.”