Double Action Deputy
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B.J. Daniels
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Chapter One
Ghostlike, the woman stumbled out of the dark night and into the glare of his headlights. The tattered bedsheet wrapped around her fluttered in the breeze along with the duct tape that dangled from her wrists and one ankle.
He saw her look up as if she hadnât heard his pickup bearing down on her until the last moment. The night breeze lifted wisps of her dark hair from an ashen face as she turned her vacant gaze on him an instant before he slammed on his brakes.
The air filled with the smell and squeal of tires burning on the dark pavement as the pickup came to a shuddering halt. He sat for a moment, gripping the wheel and staring in horror into the glow of his headlights and seeing...nothing. Nothing but the empty street ahead just blocks from his apartment.
He threw the truck into Park and jumped out, convinced, even though he hadnât felt or heard a thud, that heâd hit her and that heâd find her lying bleeding on the pavement. How could he have missed her?
If thereâd been a woman at all.
In those few seconds, leaving the driverâs side door gaping open, the engine running, he was terrified of what he would findâand even more terrified of what he wouldnât.
Could he have just imagined the woman in his headlights? It wouldnât be the first time heâd had a waking nightmare since heâd come home to recuperate. He felt the cold breeze in his face even though it was June in Montana. The temperature at night dropped this time of year, the mountains still snowcapped. He shivered as he rounded the front of the truck and stopped dead.
His heart dropped to his boots.
The pavement was empty.
His pulse thundered in his ears.
I am losing my mind. I hallucinated the woman.
For months, heâd assured himself he was fine. Except for the nightmares that plagued him, something heâd done his best to keep from his family since returning to Cardwell Ranch.
Doubt sent a stab of alarm through him that made him weak with worry. He leaned against the front of the pickup. Why would he imagine such an image? What was wrong with him? Heâd seen her. Heâd seen every detail.
He really was losing his mind.
As he glanced around the empty street, he suddenly felt frighteningly all alone as if he was the last person left alive on the earth. This late at night, the new businesses were dark in this neighborhood, some still under construction. The ones that were opened closed early, making the area a ghost town at night. It was one reason heâd taken the apartment over one of the new shops. Heâd told his folks that he moved off the ranch for the peace and quiet. He didnât want them knowing that his nightmares hadnât stopped. They were getting worse.
A groan from the darkness made him jump. His heart pounded in his throat as he turned to stare into the blackness beyond the edge of the street. The sound definitely hadnât been his imagination. The night was so dark he couldnât see anything after the pavement ended. The sidewalks hadnât been poured yet, some of the streets not yet paved. He heard another sound that appeared to be coming from down the narrow alley between two buildings under construction.
He quickly stepped back to the driverâs side of his pickup and grabbed his flashlight. Walking through the glow of his headlights, he headed into the darkness beyond the street. The narrow beam of light skittered to the edge of the pavement and froze on a spot of blood.
Deeper into the dirt alley, the beam came to rest on the woman as she tried to crawl away. She clawed at the ground, clearly exhausted, clearly terrified, before collapsing halfway down the alley.
She wasnât an apparition. And she was alive! He rushed to her. Her forehead was bleeding from a small cut, and her hands and knees were scraped from crawling across the rough pavement and then the dirt to escape. In the flashlightâs glow, he saw that her face was bruised from injuries sheâd suffered before tonight. From what he could tell, his pickup hadnât hit her.
But there was no doubt that she was terrified. Her eyes widened in horror at the sight of him. A high-pitched keening sound filled the air and she kicked at him and stumbled to her feet. He could see that she was exhausted because she hadnât taken more than few steps when she dropped to her knees and tried to crawl away again.
She was shivering uncontrollably in the tattered sheet wrapped around her. He caught up to her, took off his jacket and put it over her, fearing she was suffering from hypothermia. He could see that her wrists and ankles were chafed where sheâd been bound with the duct tape. She was barefoot and naked except for the soiled white sheet she was wrapped in.
âItâs all right,â he said as he pulled out his cell phone to call for help. âYouâre all right now. Iâm going to get help.â She lay breathing hard, collapsed in the dirt. âCan you tell me who did this to you? Miss, can you hear me?â he asked, leaning closer to make sure she was still breathing. Her pale eyes flew open, startling him as much as the high-pitched scream that erupted from her.
As the 911 operator came on the line, he had to yell to be heard over the womanâs shrieks. âThis is Deputy Marshal Brick Savage,â he said as he gave the address, asking for assistance and an ambulance ASAP.
