Over Her Dead Body
Autore
Nichole Severn
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Chapter One
A small town didn’t run on a twenty-four-hour news cycle. A small town never forgot.
“But how are you going to keep us safe?” The stranger’s voice drowned the low murmurings filtering in and out.
Reserve Officer Isla Vachs leaned against one wall at the back of the room. It was a new career. And her decision to take it had been born in fear and blood and desperation. Just like this meeting. For one night, the basketball court of Battle Mountain’s rec center had been transformed into an impromptu town hall. Nearly two hundred people scooted in metal chairs, raised questions and talked over one another.
They hadn’t gotten anywhere the past hour.
“I give you my word as your police chief, Battle Mountain PD is doing everything in our power to keep you safe.” Chief Weston Ford gripped the podium a bit too tight at the head of the assembly. But nothing he said—no number of promises—would give these people comfort. Their small former mining town was on the brink of destruction. Two serial killers, a bomber who’d taken a chunk out of Main Street to cover up a murder, and just a couple months ago, a man running from his past and leaving bodies in his wake.
This town had already lost so much. They all had.
They couldn’t risk losing their faith, too.
“What is your word worth?” A woman in the center of the mass stood up, a toddler on one hip. Isla didn’t know her name. “You only stepped into this job after Charlie Frasier couldn’t do it anymore. What qualifies you to run a police department?”
Isla’s gaze cut to the line of reserve officers off to her right, officers she should be standing with. She hadn’t known any of them long, but what she did know of them made up for the confusion and doubt spreading through the room. Easton Ford—Weston’s brother; Alma Majors, Battle Mountain’s first female officer; Kendric Hudson, who was a former ATF instructor. Cree Gregson was a transplant, same as Kendric, from Larimer County’s bomb squad. The men and women of this department had risked their lives and the lives of their loved ones to keep this town safe. But their expressions said it all: this meeting was just the beginning of the department’s downfall.
“I understand your concerns. I’ve heard them.” Townspeople quieted a moment as the chief leveled his gaze on them from one end of the room to the other. “And with the recent shooting of one of our EMTs, the department is recruiting more officers.”
Her side ached at the mere mention of the bullet she’d taken through and through outside her own fire station two months ago. No new leads. No ballistics or witness statements. All she had to show for it was a still-healing wound and a memory of someone being there that night. Someone she couldn’t remember.
The chief continued. “We’re running more patrols. Both Silverton and Ouray are lending—”
“It’s not enough!” came another voice.
Citizens clapped and nodded in an uproar, and Isla couldn’t help but agree. This town had turned into a hub for criminals and fugitives alike. Once a tourist destination for its lakes, hiking trails and quiet escape, Battle Mountain had dried into something unrecognizable. They’d gotten all the publicity this past year, but for the wrong reasons. Without mining money keeping people employed or tourists adding to the economy, this place would cease to exist. It was only a matter of time.
“What about the investigation from the state?” another called.
Mayor Wayne Higgins shouldered the chief out of the way. A familiar figure with his limp and oversize cane, he seemed to have been Battle Mountain’s chief executive ever since the town was founded. Raising both hands, he quieted down the panicked murmurs spreading across the lacquered floor. “Now, listen here. You have every right to be concerned. The past year has been hard on us all, but Chief Ford isn’t placating you with fantasies. These are real, actionable steps we’re taking to ensure you and your families are safe.” He motioned to two women a little down the wall from Isla. “Our very own coroner, Dr. Chloe Miles, and District Attorney Alexander are living examples of the risk the men and women of this police department are willing to take for any one of us. Not to mention all those who were impacted by the bombing on Main Street or the forest fire set six months ago. Chief Ford and his officers have been there to battle our demons for us, and we owe him and his officers our respect and gratitude.”
The room went silent.
Warning pooled at the base of Isla’s spine.
Like the mayor had been building up to something with that little speech.
He paused, his hard gaze diverting to Chief Ford for a moment, before facing his voters again. “As for the internal affairs investigation from the Colorado Bureau of Investigations, there was nothing for Officer Dwyer to report. However, considering her personal involvement with one of the reserve officers and to make sure that we have the right people looking out for us, I will be conducting my own investigation into Battle Mountain PD.”
Hoots and agreement burst from the audience. Another round of clapping drowned out the mayor’s next words.
Isla straightened from the wall, aggravating the hole in her side, as Chief Ford covered the microphone to have a sidebar with the mayor. Her fellow officers looked from one to another. Their confusion pierced through her. What did that mean? What kind of investigation? She’d moved from fire and rescue into the police department to ensure she could protect herself and her daughter, Mazi, in case the shooter tried a second time, but as the department’s newest recruit, wouldn’t she be the first to go if the mayor decided to clean house?
The chief seemingly gave up trying to get his own answers and stalked off the stage toward his officers, that recognizable ten-gallon hat in hand. Dr. Chloe Miles pushed through the throng to get to her husband, their three-month-old infant strapped to her chest. The district attorney, Genevieve Alexander, followed in her wake, wheeling through the audience.
Nervous energy solidified in Isla’s veins as she walked to join her colleagues.
“The mayor is out of his damn mind.” Cree Gregson crossed his arms over his muscled chest. “Campbell didn’t find anything. Neither will he.”
“It’s not the investigation I’m worried about.” Chief Ford nodded toward the townspeople. “It’s them. If they have any doubts about us, they won’t rely on us to help. So we cooperate. Whatever the mayor has in mind, you go along with it for however long it takes. Understand? These people need us.” His gaze landed on Isla. “And they deserve to have someone standing up for them.”
“I’ll talk to Campbell, see if there’s anything she can do to hurry this along. I’m sure she still has her files from the investigation she ran for CBI.” Kendric Hudson pulled his phone from his pocket. “But something tells me Mayor Higgins wouldn’t take the help.”
“It’s a start.” The chief nodded. “Now get back to patrol.”
Her fellow officers dispersed, each with their partner in tow. Except for the chief. He smoothed his hand over the baby’s back and kissed Chloe lightly. Isla turned from the personal show of affection, her heart in her throat. Too familiar. Too painful.
A hard knock into her shoulder suctioned the air from her lungs as the townspeople filed out. No apologies followed after. It had been a deliberate strike to show BMPD officers they weren’t up to par. What had she just walked into?
“Vachs.” The chief’s heavy footsteps closed in. She turned to face him, noting Chloe helping the district attorney and her wheelchair out a side door. “You’re probably wondering what you’ve gotten yourself involved in. If you made the right move from fire and rescue.”
From the limited interactions she’d had with Weston Ford since coming to Battle Mountain, she’d learned he was the kind of man who’d rather deal straight than have anything sugarcoated. “Something along those lines, but I’m here now. There’s no going back. Have you heard anything from the lab?”
His gaze deflected to the last few residents filing out the door past them, and the chief lowered his voice. “The bullet they pulled from you isn’t connected to any other crimes in the database. Whoever pulled the trigger most likely made sure the gun was clean.”
Her gut clenched just a bit. Hard to imagine why someone would’ve targeted her in the first place. She was a single mother of an eight-year-old spitfire, widowed and in the business of saving lives. Which meant the shooting had probably been random, and made it even more impossible to narrow down a motive or a suspect.
She cleared her throat to counter the terrifying memories of that night, of not knowing if Mazi was going to become an orphan. The girl had already lost her father. She couldn’t lose her mother, too.
Isla hiked her thumbs into her belt. “Any other leads?”
“No.” Genuine regret etched into the chief’s expression. The weight of keeping this entire town safe had fallen on his shoulders the past few years, and it was starting to show. Not as quick to respond to his brother’s barbs, slower to smile at Dr. Miles. And now he had to face an investigation. “I know you want answers. We all do. Even when you were with fire and rescue, you were one of us, and we won’t stop until we figure out who shot you. I’ve got everyone keeping an eye out. We hear something, you’ll be the first to know. Until then, be safe out there.”
“Thanks, Chief.” She didn’t know what else to say. As much as she wanted to believe her new boss meant what he’d said—that she wasn’t alone in this—Isla couldn’t dislodge the need to find the truth on her own. She nodded goodbye, then headed out the door into the cooling night.
Fall was on the cusp. Dead leaves blew across the parking lot, triggering her awareness so high that she felt as though she’d jump right out of her own skin. The parking lot had cleared. Her oversize pickup truck waited in the back. Not hers. Clint’s. It had been his pride and joy before he died.
Battle Mountain PD was actively recruiting officers, but resources didn’t grow on trees. She had to use her personal vehicle. All ten miles to the gallon of it. Thankfully, the town wasn’t that big, and she only had between two or three shifts a week.
Isla unpocketed her keys and disengaged the top-of-the-line alarm. Clint had decked it out a few months before his last tour. As much as she hated hauling herself and Mazi into the monster, she couldn’t convince herself to sell it for something more practical. It had been the last project he’d worked on.
She slowed. The headlights hadn’t flashed when she’d hit the button to unlock the truck. Crap. She wasn’t tall enough to reach the engine to check the battery without help. Frustration bubbled up her throat. She really needed to get rid of the truck. Sliding her phone from her slacks, she scrolled to Easton Ford’s name to call for an assist. He was tall enough to reach under the hood. And if he wasn’t, she’d have to wait until the auto parts store opened in the morning. There went her shift. “Damn it.”
She hit dial and brought the phone to her ear.
An all-too-familiar crack of a bullet pierced through the night.
A split second before pain and a solid wall of muscle tackled her to the asphalt.
SHE’D BEEN HIT.
Adan Sergeant shoved himself off Isla’s small frame. He fisted her uniform in both hands and dragged her behind the only vehicle left in the parking lot. Clint’s. The monster truck would give them some cover, but the most pressing issue was his best friend’s wife taking another bullet. He tugged her against the humongous tire of the front passenger side and patted her from shoulder to thigh to get a sense of her injuries. No blood. Hope exploded through his system. “Isla, can you hear me? Where are you hit?”
A wild confusion and a drastic amount of pain infiltrated her normally emotionless expression. She pressed her heels into the asphalt and ripped at her shirt collar. Parking lot lights glinted off the shiny butt of a bullet lodged in the center of her chest. She struggled around her next breath. “Vest.”
“Good girl.” His gun was already in hand. He shoved to stand. She’d live. That was all that mattered. But two bullets in as few as two months was challenging her luck. He might not be there if the shooter came after Isla a third time.
He needed to end this now.
Darkness shifted with strong winds ripping through the trees. They were at a disadvantage here. Targets. The shooter had chosen the perfect position to take the shot. No movement. No sign of the gunman at all. Adan’s heart pounded hard behind his ears. This was just like Morocco. Too many variables. Not enough intel.
“Southeast. The bullet came from the southeast.” A groan escaped up Isla’s delicate throat. She pressed one hand into her chest and withdrew her sidearm with the other as she stood. Ready to face whatever waited for them on the other side of the truck. “I’m guessing he took position in those trees.”
Isla reached for the radio at her belt. In seconds, she’d hailed the rest of the reserve officers in her department.
She’d already taken one bullet when he’d been too late to tackle her out of the way mere weeks ago. He wasn’t going to fail her again. He wasn’t going to fail Clint. Adan ducked, keeping the truck between him and the shooter. If he could work his way behind the bastard, he might have a shot of getting Isla out of here alive. “Cover me.”
“You seem to have it a bit backward here. I’m Battle Mountain police, and you—” The weight of Isla’s attention pressurized the air lodged in his chest. One second. Two. Every cell in his body feared and hoped for her to recognize him in an instant. Her outline seemed to harden right in front of him as though every muscle she owned had tensed in defense. With good reason. “Adan?”
“Hey, Bugs.” The nickname he’d called her all those years ago wouldn’t help things, but it was hard to break old habits.
“What are you...?” She didn’t move, didn’t even seem to breathe. It wasn’t until Isla stepped forward that he got a good look at her up close. She’d cut her mass of dark brown waves short. Just below her ears. She was somehow leaner than before. Then again, it had been close to a year since he’d seen her last. Up close, anyway. Still just as beautiful, but the light she’d somehow emanated from within had burnt out. He could see it in her eyes. All that was left was pain. Because of him. “You’ve got a lot of guts showing up here—”
Another shot punched through the night.
Glass rained down around them. Isla ducked her head with a sharp scream, but it wouldn’t be enough to stop a bullet from coming through the truck and finding its target.
“And here I thought saving you from dying a second time would earn me a thank-you.” Adan maneuvered around her and balanced his weapon across the truck hood. He pulled the trigger. Once. Twice. His instincts said he hadn’t hit anything significant—no shooters falling out of trees—but it would distract the bastard long enough to give them a chance to run. “Come on. We’re too vulnerable here. We need to get you somewhere safe.”
Adan gripped the underside of her elbow.
She ripped free of his hold. “You’re out of your damn mind if you think I’m going anywhere with you—”
Sirens pierced through the night. Isla turned toward the bright red and blue patrol lights with a wince of pain. She blocked her face with the raise of her free hand, but Adan made sure she stayed behind the truck. Anyone willing to take a shot at one police officer wouldn’t hesitate to bring down three.
“BMPD! Drop the weapon! Get on the ground! Now!” Two uniformed officers raced to the hood of the car and took aim. At Adan.
“It’s okay. I’m a friend.” Hell. They were going to take him in. They were going to leave Isla unprotected while they wasted time processing him and checking out his story. Adan scanned the trees where the bullet had originated. Shadows shifted. Or was his desperation to protect Isla creating something that wasn’t really there? Either way, this wasn’t over. He could feel it, but what other choice did he have here but to do as BMPD ordered?
Turning back, he followed instructions and tossed his gun. For Isla’s sake. The quicker the police cleared him, the sooner he could get her and Mazi out of Dodge. Metal thudded hard against asphalt—too loud in his ears—as his adrenaline from the shooting drained. His heart rate leveled off, and Adan dropped to his knees. Then onto his chest.
Isla backed away, the full brilliance of her face visible in the headlights.
“You good, Vachs?” One of the officers closed in, weapon steady. The man’s deep voice resonated with a protectiveness that only came from being responsible for a unit under his care.
She dislodged the bullet from her vest, slightly bent over as though trying to catch her breath. She handed it off just as the second officer extended a clear plastic bag. The bullet hit the bottom and was sealed as evidence. Isla sagged against the tire of her husband’s truck but managed to stay on her feet. That alone was a testament to her strength, but her decision to put herself in harm’s way had already triggered consequences. “Good? No. Someone just took another shot at me, and I think he knows why.”
Cuffs ratcheted around Adan’s wrists at the small of his back. The officer hauled him to his feet, but Adan only had attention for Isla.
“You know this guy?” The sliver of a name tag reflected the patrol car’s headlights. Ford. But not the chief of police. No. This one was the former Green Beret. That information should’ve dosed him with a shot of relief. The man had combat experience. Easton Ford had honed a specific set of skills to stay alive and protect those in his unit, to guard the men and women in the department. Just like Adan. But the relief never came. It wasn’t Easton Ford’s duty to protect Isla. It was Adan’s.
“Doesn’t matter right now. He’s not the one who took a shot at me. The shooter was positioned in those trees.” She nodded toward the wall of black separating the parking lot from the rest of town. This was the perfect location to get the drop on her. “He’ll be long gone by now.”
Her confidence lined up with Adan’s. As much as he feared the sniper would take out as many officers as he could, the shooter wouldn’t want to risk getting into a shootout with the police until his assignment was complete. It would only draw attention. Both times the son of a bitch had gunned for Isla, he’d pulled the trigger from the dark. But that didn’t mean she was safe during the day, either.
“Alma, stay with our new friend here and let Weston know we’re bringing him in.” Ford was already shoving Adan toward the female officer pocketing the evidence bag. “I’ll do a search.”
“You got it, boss.” Alma Majors. One of Battle Mountain’s newest recruits. Former archaeologist turned reserve officer. There had to be a story in there, but Adan hadn’t done more research than necessary to carry out his mission. All that mattered was Isla and Mazi, Clint’s eight-year-old daughter. Getting them the hell out of this town was priority number one.
Ford disappeared into the trees as Officer Majors updated the dispatcher on their location and situation. The shooter was already in the wind. If Adan was right, there wouldn’t be any trace of him left behind, either. He was good. A professional. “You’re not going to find him. You know that. You need me, Isla, and pretending you don’t is only going to get you killed.”
She refused to look at him.
“You know this guy?” Majors’s shoulders tensed a bit more as she set him against the hood of the department’s only patrol vehicle. Defensive. Came with the territory as a police officer, but his instincts said this was something more. Something deeper and learned. Past abuse, maybe?
“His name is Adan Sergeant. He’s not supposed to be here.” Isla straightened to her full height. She rounded out of his sight. The distinct slam of one of the truck’s doors filled the night—almost as loud as that shot—before she punctured his peripheral vision with a backpack in tow. She set to work on extracting the second bullet from the truck’s hood, but given what he knew of preferred ammunition, the round would’ve gone into the engine block.
“No sign of a shooter. I searched at least five hundred feet back.” Easton Ford materialized from the shadows, not even out of breath. “No spent casings. No footprints. Guy is a ghost.”
“Like I said, you aren’t going to find him.” Adan sat back on his cuffed wrists. “He’s a professional. My guess is former marine.”
“And you know this how?” Ford’s gaze narrowed on him.
“My ID is in my back right pocket,” he said. “I’d get it myself if I wasn’t in these cuffs.”
Majors searched Adan’s pockets and produced his ID. She tossed it to her partner. “Meet Adan Sergeant.”
The oldest Ford brother caught the wallet and pried it open. “This is a military ID. Army. Where are you currently serving?”
Long story. One he didn’t want to get into now. “I’m not. Honorable discharge.”
“And what are you doing in Battle Mountain?” Ford asked.
“Protecting her.” Adan nodded to Isla as she turned to face him. “This is the second attempt on her life. Two shootings in as many months. He’s going to try again. I’m here to make sure he doesn’t succeed.”
“You know Vachs.” Ford motioned toward Adan with his wallet. That protectiveness was back, and Adan knew if Isla said the word, he’d find himself in a world of hurt. “How?”
Isla deposited the second bullet into a separate bag and handed it off to Easton Ford. “He’s the man who got my husband killed.”
