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The nurse blinked. “It’s closed—”
“Stairwell,” Claire commanded. Her tone was sharp and her feet never stopped moving as she brushed past the nurse. Gavin stayed on her heels. The nurse pointed to the left, and they took off down the hall. The door leading to the second floor was unlocked.
Gavin grabbed Claire’s arm before she could ascend the stairs. He leaned in closer to her ear. “Let me go first.”
She looked like she wanted to argue for a moment, but then acquiesced. Another mark in the plus column in Gavin’s book. Claire wasn’t reckless or unwilling to be a team player. The shooter had been aiming for her. She was his target. The criminal could be lying in wait, hoping for Claire to appear first so he could take her out.
Gavin wouldn’t give him the chance.
Claire stepped back, allowing Gavin to slip past her. The stairwell was concrete. He lightened his steps to prevent his boots from making any noise. Nerves jittered his stomach as he turned the corner on the landing, but the hand holding his weapon was steady. Claire matched him step for step. Her presence was both a comfort and a responsibility.
There was no door separating the stairs from the upper level. This was the riskiest part. In order to ascend, Gavin’s head would be exposed before the rest of his body. He pressed himself against the wall and the railing shoved against the small of his back. His heart rate increased. Gavin took deep breaths to counteract his narrowing vision. He paused on the stairs, straining to listen for any sound in the floor above them.
Nothing.
Sweat dripped down Gavin’s back. He inhaled once more and then took the stairs two at a time, letting his gaze sweep across the space for any sign of color or movement. Behind him, Claire followed. As he swept left, she went right. Training made them a good team. Nails and dust littered the floor. Metal framing delineated future rooms, but the sheet rock hadn’t been placed yet. A wash of frigid air blew into the space from an open window.
The shooter was gone.
An hour later, Claire dabbed antiseptic on a nasty cut along her calf. A pounding headache made her stomach churn. Her body was bruised from the hard impact with the concrete and her uniform smelled like sour icing. But she was alive.
Thank you, God. The last thing I want to do is leave Jacob without a mother.
She was a law enforcement officer. A professional. Risking her life came with the badge, but motherhood had placed an additional responsibility on her shoulders. One she was still struggling to balance with her career. Days like today brought that point home in a raw way.
Claire had made her fair share of enemies. Every law enforcement officer did. But this morning’s shooting, coming on the heels of Faye’s murder, couldn’t be random. The two incidents had to be connected. Gavin believed Claire was the true target since the initial shot had been aimed at her. But why? What purpose did the killer hope to gain by killing her? It would only draw more attention to the case.
None of it made sense. Hopefully, Faye’s sister, Mary Ellen, could provide some insight.
Claire ripped open a bandage and applied it to her calf. She splashed cold water on her face, redid her ponytail, and then squared her shoulders. Everyone—including her subordinates—would be watching her. She had to set the right example. Calm, cool, and collected.
Even if a murderer had her in his sights.
Claire exited the bathroom. The sounds of the phones ringing and voices drifted down the hall from the deputies' area. Her cell phone, tucked in her pocket, vibrated. She pulled it out and groaned at the name written across the screen.
Mayor Patrick Scott.
He was calling about the case. She pictured him sitting in his office at City Hall, the heavy drapery on the large windows behind him, several members of his staff hovering around like bees. Patrick was well-liked, but Claire found him pretentious and more concerned with his reputation than doing the right thing.
Drawing from a well of patience, Claire accepted the call. “Good morning, Mayor.”
“Sheriff, finally. I’ve called the department three times and no one could locate you. The media are clamoring for a comment about the bakery shooting. We need to get the story right, otherwise it’ll be a mess. What do you know? Do you have suspects?”
It didn’t escape Claire’s notice that Patrick didn’t waste his breath asking if she was okay. She tamped down her frustration with him. One of the good things about Patrick was his ability to handle the media. It kept them off her back. She was very grateful for that.
Claire quickly ran through what they knew. When she finished, Patrick was so quiet she thought the call had dropped. “Sir?”
“Sorry, I’m thinking. This case isn’t like any other. The media attention is going to be on us, much like it was last year with the serial killer. I want complete updates from you every three hours. If there’s a major break in the investigation, I need to know immediately.”
“Every three hours may be difficult, sir, but I promise to keep you abreast of the situation.”
“Not good enough, Sheriff. I don’t need to tell you what a critical time this is. Elections are around the corner. People will be watching us.”
Claire didn’t care a fig about the election. Her goal was to obtain justice for Faye and protect the citizens of her county. If she didn’t do that, then she didn’t deserve to be sheriff. “You have my word, sir. I will do everything in my power to catch the criminal behind this and put him behind bars.”
She hung up. The pounding in her head was increasing exponentially. Claire turned the corner and nearly ran into Gavin standing outside her office. He’d shed his sports jacket and the ranger badge pinned to the front pocket of his shirt shone in the fluorescent lighting. For a moment, the feeling of his arms wrapped around her as they rolled behind the dumpster flashed in Claire’s mind. His touch had been gentle and tender, despite the dangerous circumstances.
She shoved the errant thought from her mind. Her focus needed to be on the case. “Ready to talk to Mary Ellen?”
