Chapter 7

There was a Grace Robinson in Bangor, Maine. Apparently, she had a little shoplifting problem.

“Got you,” Hugh muttered, clicking on the link to bring up the first of several mug shots. He leaned forward as the computer hesitated, humming as it uploaded the picture. When the photo appeared on the screen, however, he slumped back. This Ms. Robinson was at least forty-five years older than his Grace. Wait. His Grace?

He pushed the thought out of his head.

Instead, he ran another check, but there were no other Grace Robinsons in Bangor—at least, none that had any reason to be listed in the police database. He widened his search to include the whole county. Except for the sticky-fingered senior citizen, he had no other hits.

Lexi shifted next to him, resting her head right above his knee. He gave her a quick rub behind her ears and then tried a few different search combinations. When Hugh’s focus stayed on the computer screen, Lexi started to whine.

“I know, Lex.” He gave the dog a sympathetic glance, aware that she was as bored as he was with their enforced inactivity. “Maybe we can go give Otto a hand at one of his calls later. It’s possible that someone will run when they see us, and then you can catch them. That would be fun, right?”

Lexi sat up straight, already vibrating with anticipation from her pricked ears to her thumping tail.

“No.”

Hugh jerked in surprise at Otto’s voice, and then braced himself as a wave of agony bolted through his thigh at the sudden movement. “Hey, Otto.” Although he tried to sound casual, Hugh knew he was breathless from the pain. “What’s up? Lexi and I were just discussing you. About how you’re our favorite cop pretty much in the history of the universe.”

Instead of answering, Otto just walked over to look at the computer screen. Trying to act casual, Hugh exited out of his most recent search, hitting the escape key until he was back at the home page. Only then did he look up at Otto. Way up.

“How’d you sneak in here without me hearing you? You’re so tall, but you move so quietly. It’s like you’re a cross between Paul Bunyan and a ninja.” When Otto narrowed his eyes, looking more annoyed than he usually ever got, Hugh raised his hands and plastered on his most innocent expression. “A Bunja. Or a Ninyan?”

Otto’s stone-faced stare didn’t falter. “You can’t be here. If LT sees you…”

The idea made Hugh wince, but he forced a shrug. “Don’t worry. Lex and I are in stealth mode. Besides, it’s three in the morning. The lieutenant’s fast asleep. Unless there’s a monster of a call, he won’t be wandering in here until eight—actually, five after eight, since he’ll get coffee first.”

Closing his eyes for a second, Otto looked as if he was in pain, too. When he finally opened them, he fixed his glare on Hugh. “You will go home. You will stay there for the next sixteen days. You will not show up on any of my calls.”

With a noncommittal hum, Hugh decided that a subject change was in order. “Hypothetically, if I were to bring you a set of prints, would you send them to the state lab for processing for me?” At their next Tattered Hearts viewing, he’d snag Grace’s glass or popcorn bowl or something he could lift prints from.

Even as he thought that, a tickle of guilt made him itchy. Watching the soap with Grace had been fun. Sitting so close to her on the couch, laughing at the cheesy parts, gasping at the shocking parts had made his favorite show so much better. He couldn’t get involved with her, though. The woman was obviously trouble. He just had to ignore the urge he felt every time she looked at him with those gorgeous, scared eyes—the need to protect her, to comfort her, to take away that terrified look and make her laugh…or want to smack him. Any reaction was fine, as long as it distracted her from whatever made her so frightened.

Otto cleared his throat, bringing Hugh back to the reality of his partner’s deadly glare.

“From the angry eyes, I’m guessing the hypothetical answer to my hypothetical question would be no?” He’d have to hit up Theo instead.

To Hugh’s surprise, the scowl disappeared. Otto’s face smoothed into an expressionless mask as he crossed his thick arms over his chest. “Hypothetically,” Otto said in an even tone, “if I shoot you in the other leg, will you finally stay home?”

Okay, so the blank face and the calm voice were misleading. Otto was pissed.

“Fine,” Hugh grumbled, logging off the computer and shutting it down. “I’m going home. But if I die of utter boredom, then it’s on your conscience.”

Otto didn’t look too concerned about future guilt. Instead, he turned abruptly, crossed to the door, and opened it just enough to stick his head into the hall. Taking advantage of Otto’s distraction, Hugh used the opportunity to stand, knowing that he couldn’t hide how much it hurt to do so.

“Hallway’s clear,” Otto said in a low grumble, standing aside to let Hugh walk into the hallway.

A flash of gratitude took Hugh by surprise. He was lucky to have Otto and Theo and Lexi. His partners had risked their lives to carry him to safety after he’d been shot. If he was honest, Hugh knew that he’d be just as big of a nagging grandma if either Otto or Theo had been the ones injured. In fact, he had been just as bad to Theo after their fellow K9 officer, Don Baker, had committed suicide the previous summer. Although everyone in the department had mourned, Theo had been hit the hardest. He’d retreated into himself and turned off every emotion except for anger. Hugh would rather get shot in his other leg than watch Theo go through that again. He’d rather get shot anywhere than see his friends hurting at all.

As he passed, Hugh squeezed Otto’s massive shoulder. “Thanks, Otto.”

Except for a slight tip of his head in acknowledgment, Otto stayed silent. With Lexi at his side, Hugh strolled down the hall to the stairway. Only when the heavy fire door thumped closed behind him did he allow himself to limp heavily. The first step down almost brought him to his knees. As much as he hated to admit it, he’d been overusing his leg, and now he was paying for it. Using the railings, he balanced on his good leg and swung down four steps at a time until he reached the door to the parking lot. His key fob for the parking garage had been confiscated by the lieutenant, so he’d been forced to park in the public lot and go through the lobby. Luckily, the desk sergeant had let him pass after inquiring about his leg. Apparently, she hadn’t known about the station-wide Hugh ban…yet.

Hooking Lexi’s leash to the first ring on her harness—the one that meant they weren’t working or tracking—Hugh pressed the door’s release bar and stepped into the chilly mountain night. As they walked toward his truck, he tipped his head back. Despite the sodium lights illuminating the lot, the stars were bright. The moon was just a sliver, but it stood out sharply against the deep black of the sky. The color reminded him of Grace’s hair.

The sappiness of that image ripped him out of his thoughts, and he faced forward, focusing on his pickup. There were only a few other cars dotted around the lot. After six years on the force, plus a lifetime in Monroe, the station parking lot was a familiar, comfortable place. Tonight, however, it looked different…foreign.

The ever-present wind was sliding half of a Styrofoam takeout container across the asphalt, making a scratchy sound as the box skidded beneath a car. Despite the lights, the shadows were deep, giving plenty of cover to whoever needed it. Hugh’s skin prickled with that same feeling of being watched, and he held back a grunt of frustration. Why was he being so paranoid? No one was there.

He was almost sure of it.

It took a great effort to keep his steps measured—and an even greater one to keep them even. He didn’t want to hurry to the truck, though, any more than he wanted to limp and show weakness to whoever was lurking out there. Even Lexi seemed infected by his mood. Her ears swiveled like satellite dishes, trying to pick up the faintest sound.

As they drew close to the truck, he dug his keys out of his pocket—but when he pulled them out, his fingers fumbled, and he dropped them. They hit the pavement with a discordant jangle that sounded too loud in the sudden stillness. Even the wind seemed to be holding its breath.

With a huff of annoyance, Hugh bent to pick up the keys, extending his bad leg to the side in an awkward pose he was glad no one was there to witness. As he rose, keys in hand, Lexi started to bark.

It wasn’t her normal bark. There was a frantic, almost shrill edge to her yelps. Bunching her hindquarters under her, Lexi turned and bolted.

Within a second, she hit the end of the leash. Already off-balance, Hugh stumbled along behind her for several steps. When his startled brain began working again, he stopped, turning his head to look behind him, searching for whatever had spooked Lexi worse than he’d ever seen before.

All he saw were shadows before another jerk on the leash pulled him forward. He quit hesitating and started to run behind her. His confident—almost overconfident—K9 partner was so terrified that she was dragging him along at the end of her leash. If there was something so bad that it made Lexi bolt, then he should probably follow suit.

Before they reached the edge of the lot, there was a bright flash and a thump so loud that it echoed through his whole body. He went airborne as the night lit up around him. There were crashing sounds and a chorus of car alarms, but they were all muffled, as if his head was buried in a pillow.

Hugh hit the ground hard, his skull bouncing painfully off the pavement. His vision spun, the white light from earlier fading into darker oranges and reds. Confused, he pushed himself up onto his elbows, hardly even feeling the gravel that dug into his arms. He squinted, trying to focus his blurry, shifting vision. A pickup was on fire.

His pickup was on fire.

Fragmented thoughts filled his mind, and he tried to tie them together into some sort of coherent string. He needed to have Dispatch call Fire. What had just happened? He’d been looking into Grace’s background. Beautiful, scared Grace… Focus! Otto had sent him home. He’d been walking out to his truck with Lexi…

“Lexi!” he yelled, and his voice echoed strangely in his head. He twisted, trying to come to his hands and knees, but his balance was off, and his thigh refused to support him, sliding out to the side when he attempted to pull his knees under him. “Lexi!”

A cold nose touched the side of his neck, and he turned toward his K9 partner, sliding shaking hands into her ruff.

“You okay, sweetie?” he crooned, his voice rough with smoke inhalation and emotion. Sliding his hands over her, he checked for any injuries, but she didn’t seem to flinch from his touch. Instead, Lexi leaned into him, her weight throwing him off-balance. Unable to catch himself in time, he toppled onto his back.

The stars, hazy from smoke, seemed to squiggle in random patterns that made his head start to throb. He was suddenly so cold. Hugh felt a shaking Lexi pressed against his side, and he welcomed her warmth.

Suddenly, Otto’s face was there, blocking the stars. His mouth was moving, but Hugh couldn’t make sense of any of his words. Otto looked scared, though, more scared than Hugh’d ever seen him look before. Vaguely, he knew that he needed to tell Otto what was happening. What was happening? Oh right. Now he remembered.

“Some asshole blew up my truck,” Hugh slurred, and then there was blackness.