The Night Is Watching

Sloan felt a tap on his shoulder. It was one of the emergency med techs. “We’re ready to roll, Sheriff.”



Sloan turned to Declan and the county officers. “You’ll get statements from these men?”



He received solemn nods in reply.



“And we’ll get the crime-scene folks out here, too,” Johnson said. “This is the busiest they’ve been in a hell of a long time!”



“You ready to go?” Sloan asked Jane.



“Ready,” she said.



Only one of them could ride in the ambulance, and Jane felt it should be him. “I’ll drive behind in your patrol car,” she said.



“No, you get in there,” he insisted. “You were diagnosed with a concussion a little while ago. I’ll drive the car. Stay with them for me.”



She didn’t argue. As he followed, he realized she was just about the perfect agent. She was a listener, not butting in when others were questioning people, responding when she needed to respond and keeping quiet when something more might be learned.



She was a talented artist, too. He had the feeling that she worked well with her Krewe, handling the street work and the action, as well as the office work.



She’d never leave her job.



But what about him?



He hadn’t known how much Lily, his home, meant to him until someone had brought murder to it.



Not something to think about now, he told himself.



But he felt numb, like someone other than himself. So much had happened in Lily, and so fast. Lily, Arizona—where all the violence had been in the past.



Until they’d found Sage McCormick’s skull.



* * *



In the hospital, Jane dozed off, exhaustion taking its toll while they sat waiting. She woke with a start when Sloan nudged her; she’d fallen asleep on his shoulder.



“I’m going in. They said I could go in,” he muttered. He sounded weary. Beyond weary.



She nodded. “I’ll be here.”



He smiled briefly and joined the doctor, who was allowing him to see the patients. She started when her phone rang. Logan. She winced; she should have reported in already. Glancing at her watch, she realized it was almost 1:00 a.m. on the East Coast.



“News services have picked up reports about a second murder in Lily,” he told her.



She reported in on the day, glossing over her own experience in the basement of the theater. When she’d explained it all, she paused.



Sloan seemed fine working with the county police. She didn’t know what his concern seemed to be when it came to his own people—other than that they were all from Lily.



“Sloan thinks that everything’s connected. And I believe it’s more than possible. He also doesn’t seem to trust his own people....”



“Sloan is probably right about a connection. And if Lily is the source of all these crimes, he might just figure that his own people are too close to too many of the players,” Logan said.



It wasn’t her place, but she decided she should make the suggestion, anyway. “Maybe you and Kelsey could head out here.”



“I’ll talk to Sloan,” Logan said. “See if he’ll issue an invitation.”



“Jay Berman crossed state lines to get murdered here,” Jane pointed out.



“We’ll see.” He must have been sitting at the computer. “We can catch an 8:00 a.m. direct flight that’ll get us out there at about eleven tomorrow. Do you think the facial reconstruction started all this?” he asked.



“No.” She thought for a minute. “I think it started before the skull showed up on the wig rack. Something major has to be going on. Two men don’t die out in the desert—one shot, one with his throat slit—because of some minor disagreement. Men who shouldn’t even have known each other. And now we have three people hospitalized—Jennie in a coma from head trauma, and Hough’s son and wife with carbon monoxide poisoning.”



“And a skull and two corpses removed from their graves,” Logan said. “Sloan and I were friends. I’m sure he’ll be fine with us going out there.”



“He’s in with the wife and son of the murder victim now,” Jane told him.



“Have him give me a call,” Logan said.



“You should call him,” Jane began, but Logan didn’t reply. She heard a dial tone and realized he’d already hung up.



* * *



Jimmy Hough was conscious but drowsy. He looked at Sloan through glazed eyes when Sloan came and sat by his bed.



“My dad is dead,” he muttered.



“Yes, I’m sorry,” Sloan said.



Jimmy’s jaw tightened. “He was such a jerk. He was a bully. He beat me up with a spoon when I was a kid. He stopped doing that, though. Once he figured I could be a football star. Then he started telling me that...that I should seize the world. I’d have everything, money, women, anything I wanted. The bigger a jerk I became, the better he liked me.” He paused and tears welled up in his eyes. “I know he was a jerk, but he was my dad.”



“Yes, he was your dad and you should mourn him, Jimmy,” Sloan said quietly. He waited a minute and then leaned forward. “Jimmy, who attacked you and your mom?”



Jimmy shook his head. “I don’t know. We were getting ready to leave. I was going to help Heidi out at the stables. And my mom...she loves all the Silverfest activities. Dad’s never gone with her and she gets to...she gets to kind of be herself. She watches all the stuff the actors do, she shops at all the vendors’ booths...she has a beer at the saloon. She doesn’t drink—that’s her big thing. A beer at the saloon during Silverfest.” Tears welled in his eyes again.



Sloan put a hand on Jimmy’s and squeezed it. “Can you tell me what happened today? If I can find the people who attacked you, I can find the people who killed your dad.”



Jimmy shut his eyes. “I didn’t see anything. I didn’t see anything at all. Mom had just called me from downstairs, telling me she was ready. I was opening the door to leave and when I did a sheet came down over my head. I fought. I fought like crazy. But whoever it was...” He stopped for a minute. “There were two of them. There had to be. Because when they dragged me downstairs to the garage, my mom was already there. I kept trying to struggle but they knocked me on the head with something, and the next thing I knew, I opened my eyes and I smelled the exhaust fumes and the car was running. It was horrible.... I couldn’t make myself move. I knew we were dying and I couldn’t move. I wasn’t tied up, but...I don’t know. Somehow I managed to reach over and turn the car off...and then I passed out again.”



“Jimmy, did the person speak?” Sloan asked.



“He grunted a few times,” Jimmy said. There was a touch of pride in his voice when he added, “I got him in the ribs. He seemed to be about my size...but he was strong. Really strong. I’m in good shape, Sheriff. But this guy had it all over me.” He paused again. “The other one, though...”



“What is it, Jimmy?”



“The other one was a woman, I think.”



“What makes you say that?”



“Because my mother’s a fighter, too. And I think she hurt the woman, because I heard her say something to the guy when they were leaving. Sounded like, ‘Bitch hurt me. I’m not in on crap like this anymore.’”



Sloan stood and set his card on the table next to Jimmy.



“If you remember anything else, call me, Jimmy.”



Jimmy nodded. “My mom’s going to make it, isn’t she?” he asked.



“Yeah, I think so. You saved her life. You saved both your lives when you managed to switch off the ignition.”



At the door, Sloan found himself called back one more time.



“Sheriff?”



“Yeah?”



“You’re not a bad guy. My dad thought you were a puffed-up dick who’d spent too much time in Houston to be an Arizona lawman. But I never believed him. You were right to say I had to be locked up. And I’m lucky that you didn’t kill my record. I learned from that.”



“You’re going to be fine, Jimmy. You’re going to be just fine,” Sloan assured him.



He left Jimmy and the nurse directed him down the hall to Zoe Hough’s room. She hadn’t come around yet, the nurse said, but she was breathing easily and all her vital signs were good.



Sloan stepped in, anyway. Zoe Hough was a pretty, blonde woman. Her hair was always impeccable, her nails always manicured; she worked out every day in her home gym and often visited the spa in the old town. Caleb Hough would have expected his wife to be perfectly put together at all times.



As he stood there, her eyes opened. She blinked, and he knew it was taking her a minute to realize where she was.



“Sloan?” she said. His name, her single word, was a raspy whisper.



“Let me get you some water,” he said, pouring her a cup from the plastic dispenser. “Take it easy. You’ve been out of it. They’re feeding you fluids through that IV, but your mouth must be dry.” He helped her take a sip of the water. She lay back, gasping, eyes fluttering closed. Then they opened again. Her eyes were blue, usually a pretty color; tonight, they had a dullness about them.



“Jimmy?” she asked anxiously, trying to rise.



“Jimmy’s recovering. He’s right down the hall,” Sloan told her. “He’s a good kid, Zoe. He got the car turned off. Saved your lives.”



“What about Caleb?” she asked.



He took a deep breath, wondering how much she could handle at the moment. Despite what Jimmy had said about her being a fighter, she’d always seemed to be such a fragile woman.



“Caleb was killed in the old mine shaft off the trail today,” Sloan said.



She didn’t act shocked. Nor did tears spring to her eyes. She stared at the ceiling, and then her gaze slid to meet his. “You’re going to think I’m horrible, Sloan. I just feel...numb. I was so in love when I married him. He was big, he was confident.... He seemed to rule the world. Then my life slowly became endless days of fear. Fear that he wouldn’t like dinner, fear the house wouldn’t be clean enough, fear he wouldn’t like the clothes I’d bought for Jimmy. Later on, I just wanted Jimmy to grow up so I could leave, you know? And then I was praying I’d have the nerve to get out of there.”