Physical Evidence Page 3

He twisted the knob on his front door with a vengeance, and shoved it inward. There was no excuse for it. He’d acted like a fool. Stepping inside, he flipped the switch and flooded the long entry hall with light. He closed the door behind him and released a sigh of relief. In spite of the hellish day he’d had, and the still missing woman who made him seriously restless, he was glad to be home. It was late and he was spent. Things would have to look better in the morning.

  Tossing his keys onto a nearby table, Mitch made his way down the hall toward his bedroom, shucking off his boots en route. Hopping on one foot and then the other, he peeled off his socks and tossed them aside. Fingers clumsy with exhaustion plucked at his buttons until he’d managed to undo the last one and pull his shirt from his waistband. As he reached his room, he started to shrug off his shoulder holster, but hesitated when a barely audible sound touched his ears.

  He froze.

  It came again…a whispered sigh or soft moan.

  He cocked his head and listened intently as he slipped his weapon from its holster. His bare feet moved silently over the uncarpeted hardwood floor, instinctively avoiding the areas that creaked with age.

  The word no, heavy with fear and denial, echoed…the disembodied voice closer this time. He paused at the door to his living room and listened again. Pure anguish, low and agonizing, reached out to him from the darkness with the next muffled sound. His heart beat faster as he leveled his weapon in that direction. Mitch eased into the room and hit the light switch. A pool of pale yellow glowed from a table lamp at the end of his sofa. His gaze moved beyond the table and the arm of the sofa to…

  Alex.

  Instantly, a shoulderload of Mitch’s tension lifted. He reholstered his weapon. She lay on the old plaid sofa, tossing and turning, fighting some unseen demon in her sleep. The hospital gown and lab coat she wore over it had worked up her thighs, exposing long, shapely legs.

  Moving closer, Mitch listened intently to make out her mumbled words but couldn’t. Should he wake her? Maybe her dreams would help her remember. She whimpered in fear, and, unable to restrain himself, he crouched next to the sofa and shook her gently. She woke instantly, jerking upright and throwing her hands out in front of her in a defensive maneuver.

  “Just take it easy,” he soothed, clasping her forearms to keep her seated.

  Her face was pale and her hair was mussed. The white bandage on her forehead stood out in stark relief against the dark tresses. She trembled visibly beneath his scrutiny. “It’s okay,” he assured her again. He noticed then that her knees were badly scraped—something new added to her list of injuries. But it was the fear and confusion in her eyes that made his gut clench.

  “I didn’t know where else to go,” she told him, her voice shaky. She drew in a sharp breath as if suddenly remembering something she’d rather not. “I tried to stop him, but it was too late.” She closed her eyes. “There was nothing I could do.”

  “I need to get you back to the hospital,” Mitch suggested, fighting the urge to hold her.

  Definitely the wrong thing to say.

  With a good deal more strength than he would have imagined her capable, she shot to her feet, he came up with her.

  “Don’t take me back there. He’ll find me!” She shook her head, her eyes wide with renewed fear. “He’ll kill me!”

  Mitch tightened his hold on her when she tried to pull away. “All right, we’ll stay here for the time being. Just calm down.” He wanted to ask who he was, but opted to do that later. “You need to relax.”

  She nodded stiffly. “As long as you promise you won’t take me back there.” Her expression clouded with too many emotions to read.

  Blood, Saylor’s blood, was smeared on the front of her gown and dried on her hands. She began to shake so hard that Mitch could no longer deny his need, he pulled her closer, to somehow comfort her…even when he knew he shouldn’t.

  “It’s all right.” He patted her back as she started to cry softly against his chest. Her damp cheek felt warm against his bare skin. His arms tightened around her of their own volition, and Mitch closed his eyes in a futile attempt to ignore the mistake he was making.

  He wasn’t sure how long he stood that way, holding her close and whispering soothing sounds in her ear, but eventually reality dragged him to his senses.

  Alex Preston was a suspect and the only witness he had to a murder, making this behavior completely unprofessional. He’d already been fooled once.

  Mitch drew back, prying the clinging woman from his chest in the process. Her arms folded around her waist, hugging herself as her body quaked uncontrollably. He doubted she’d eaten anything all day. He had to get her comfortable and evaluate her condition further before he could question her. And then he’d have to call Ashton, but Mitch had every intention of putting that off for as long as possible.

  “I’ll tell you what, let’s get you cleaned up and find something to eat. Then we’ll straighten all this out. What do you say?”

  She swiped at her eyes with the backs of her hands and nodded weakly. “Thank you.”

  He clenched his jaw against the protective feelings surging inside him. He couldn’t say she was welcome. Hell, he shouldn’t be doing this. Mitch took her by the arm and led her to the hall bathroom. “Wash your hands and face,” he instructed, “and I’ll get you some clothes.”

  She obeyed without question. She definitely wasn’t herself. He might not know her well, but he knew that much. The Alex Preston he’d argued with was strong and self-reliant, not the submissive type at all.

  Mitch hurried to his room and rounded up a T-shirt and a pair of running shorts that tied at the waist. Right now wasn’t the time to analyze why he hadn’t already called in and reported finding her to the dispatcher, or the reason she’d chosen his house in which to take refuge. Chief Lowden would be annoyed that Mitch hadn’t called him right away. But he had questions for Alex first. Questions that couldn’t wait.

  At least that was what he kept telling himself to justify putting off what he knew he should do. He paused outside the bathroom door. “This is the best I could do.” He offered Alex the clothes. “There’s a tube of antibiotic cream in the medicine cabinet for your knees.”

  Her hands not shaking quite so badly now, she accepted the items and managed a faint smile. “Thank you. This hospital getup is the pits.” She shrugged out of the lab coat and dropped it to the floor. The back of the gown had worked its way open and was showing off more than she realized.

  Mitch couldn’t prevent the wicked grin that tilted his lips, or the equally wicked retort that flew out of his mouth before he could stop it. “I don’t know, from some angles it’s not so bad.”

  Realizing where he was looking she blushed and closed the door in his face. He shook his head in disbelief. He’d just flirted with her. What was wrong with him? Hadn’t he learned his lesson already? Time for more coffee. Strong coffee. Because he definitely needed to clear his head.

  By the time Alex found her way to the kitchen, the smell of fresh-brewed coffee had filled the air and Mitch had downed one cup and was working on a second.

  “Have a seat.” He motioned to the table and chairs occupying the center of the big, old-fashioned kitchen. He reminded himself that he wasn’t supposed to notice the athletic muscle tone of her legs, or the way his too-big T-shirt made her look even more vulnerable. “Coffee?”

  “Please.” She sat down gingerly.

  He imagined that she was pretty sore from the unexplained beating she had taken. At least she wasn’t shaking now, he noticed. He poured her a cup and sat it down on the table in front of her. “Are you hungry?”

  She shook her head, then moistened her lips. Mitch cursed himself for following that last move with too much interest.

  “I don’t think I could handle any food right now.”

  She closed her eyes and he knew she was reliving the scene that had taken place in her hospital room.

  “Why don’t you tell me what happened.�
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  Her eyes opened and she looked up at him with a kind of pain that tugged hard at his emotions. “I’d been lying there for what felt like forever trying to remember what went down with…with Deputy Miller.” She shrugged halfheartedly. “Finally, I had to get up. I couldn’t lie there a minute longer.” Hesitating briefly, she frowned. “When I sat up I heard a sound like glass cracking and something hit the pillow right behind me. I guess it was instinct, but I rolled off the bed and onto the floor even before I realized what had actually happened. I knocked the telephone off the table in the process.”

  She stared into her cup for a while as she gathered her courage and began again. “I guess the deputy heard the crash. The door flew open and he rushed in. I tried to warn him to get down, but it happened too fast.” She pressed trembling fingers to her mouth. “I tried to stop the bleeding…but I couldn’t.” Tears welled past her lashes and slid down her cheeks. “All I could think to do then was run from the danger.”

  “So you came here?” He worked hard not to be affected by her vulnerability, and at the same time to keep an open mind.

  She nodded. “I was afraid. I didn’t know where else to hide. I knew no one would look for me here. And this was the only other place I remembered besides the hotel.”

  She was right about that first part. No one would have ever looked here. Not even him. She obviously didn’t remember the words that had passed between them in this very room on the night before last, since she felt comfortable coming here. “How can I be sure that you didn’t call out to Deputy Saylor for the shooter to take down so that you could escape?”

  “What?” She pushed out of her chair, sending it scraping across the floor. “Someone tried to kill me!”

  Mitch sat his cup down, watching closely for every nuance of her reaction. He had to play devil’s advocate. Had to see and feel her response. “The second bullet could have been the one that hit your pillow to make it look as if someone was trying to kill you.”

  She braced her hands at her waist. “You can’t believe that. Why would I have come here? Why would I try to help that deputy if I’d wanted him dead? Do you think I would have—?” A gasp stole the rest of what she intended to say as her mind evidently replayed those final moments in the hospital.

  “I’m sorry, Ms. Preston,” Mitch offered, with absolutely no contrition. “But until we solve this case, you’re my prime suspect. Despite the fact that you came here, running only made you look more guilty.”

  She stared directly into his eyes. “I ran because I was afraid. I don’t know why I came to your house,” she said flatly. “And I can’t tell you what happened in that car with Miller.” She flung her arms upward in frustration. “I don’t even know how I got all these bruises. But the one thing I can tell you is that I didn’t kill anyone. I know that.”

  She swayed slightly and had the presence of mind to drop back into her chair before Mitch had to reach for her.

  “All right,” he relented. “Let’s say for the moment that I believe you. How do you propose we go about proving your story? After all, you lied to me about why you were here from the beginning.” She might not remember just yet, but he couldn’t put it out of his head.

  That got her attention. Confusion claimed her features. “I don’t know why I lied to you. But there must have been a reason I held anything back.”

  Incredibly, he believed her. Mitch swore silently. This was nuts. He should just take her back to the hospital this minute and put her under guard in a room with no windows. What the hell was he thinking standing here allowing himself to swallow her story hook, line and sinker?

  But he did. That was the hell of it. He was furious that the Colby Agency had sent her here without coordinating with his office. He was even angrier that she had lied to him and that she seemed determined to make Phillip look bad somehow. But, damned if he didn’t believe, deep in his gut, that she was innocent of any wrongdoing where the murders were concerned.

  Before he opened his mouth and made an even bigger fool of himself, the telephone rang. He crossed the room and snatched up the receiver before the second ring. “Hayden.”

  “Sheriff, you’re not going to believe what me and Willis found in that P.I.’s hotel room.”

  It was Roy. Mitch glanced at the clock. “Roy, I thought everyone had called it a night?”

  “I know,” he crooned. “But I just couldn’t wait till morning to do this. I talked Willis into coming over here with me after the search ended for the night.”

  Mitch studied Alex, who was staring into her coffee cup again as if it held all the answers she needed. “So what’d you find?”

  Roy’s excitement was palpable. “We found a high-powered rifle hidden under the mattress. How much you want to bet it’s the same one that killed Saylor?”

  Chapter Two

  Mitch sat in the darkness of his bedroom staring at the telephone on the table next to the bed. A faint beam from the moon filtered through the curtains silhouetting the table and the items that sat upon it. The digital alarm clock read 12:45 a.m.

  He leaned back in his chair and told himself again that he couldn’t delay making that call any longer. For almost an hour now he’d been sitting here like this, mulling over all that had happened and putting off the inevitable. Roy had called his buddy in ballistics and gotten the promise of a priority test to confirm if the high-powered rifle found in Alex’s hotel room was, in fact, the one used to kill Saylor. They would have their answer some time tomorrow.

  Mitch hadn’t told Roy that he had Alex in custody. What was the point? The search wouldn’t resume until daybreak. That was soon enough to announce the news in Mitch’s opinion, though for the life of him he couldn’t understand why he was delaying that call as well. He told himself that it was the right thing to do. First he needed to interrogate Alex further, and he wanted to do that on his own terms.

  She wasn’t up to questioning tonight, that was certain. He hadn’t bothered to tell her about the rifle they’d found either. She might make a run for it in the middle of the night if she thought that new evidence, which made her look even guiltier, had been found. Continuing to behave in a completely unprofessional manner, Mitch had allowed her to finish her coffee and then he’d shown her to his spare room. Fifteen minutes later she’d been sleeping like a baby.

  Opting to keep her whereabouts to himself until morning might not really bother anyone connected with the official search, but not telling Ashton was a whole other can of worms. There would be hell to pay if he didn’t tell Ashton. Whatever the man’s personal claim on Alex, as her attorney he wouldn’t appreciate being made to wait a moment longer than necessary.

  Pushing to his feet, Mitch blew out a weary breath. He padded across the carpeted floor and sat down on the edge of his unmade bed. Until just over one week ago his professional life had been pretty much a breeze, other than the long hours. The worse thing that ever happened was the occasional drunken brawl at one of the college hangouts, or, even more infrequently, at the campus itself. With its five thousand students, Fulmer College was a pretty busy place. Despite the number of rowdy college students the school seemed to draw, trouble rarely found its way into Raleigh County.

  But it sure as hell had waltzed into town with Alex Preston. She’d managed to not only turn his professional world upside down, but his personal life as well.

  After calling information and requesting the number for the hotel, Mitch selected the option so the number would be automatically dialed. His voice rusty with sleep, the desk clerk offered his practiced welcome greeting, then transferred the call to Ashton’s room.

  He answered on the first ring.

  So, Mitch wasn’t the only one who couldn’t sleep. The thought only irritated him all the more. “This is Hayden. I’ve found Alex.”

  “Is she all right?”

  As had been the case from the start, the anticipation in the other man’s voice was a good deal more than professional concern. His relationship with Ale
x clearly went much deeper. That shouldn’t bother Mitch, but somehow it did.

  “She’s fine.”

  “And what does that mean?” Ashton snapped. “The last time you told me she was fine, she’d lost part of her memory. Where is she?”

  Mitch struggled to control the unwarranted fury that rocketed inside him. “I said she’s fine. She’s sleeping.”

  “Where the hell is she?”

  “Here,” Mitch ground out. “At my house.”

  The brief silence on the other end of the line spoke volumes. “Why is she at your house?” Ashton’s tone was guarded this time, almost accusing.

  “She said she figured it was the last place anyone would look.” Mitch massaged his stubbled jaw in an attempt to stop the muscle jerking there.

  “Give me directions,” Ashton ordered, “I’ll be right there.”

  “No. I told you she’s sleeping.”

  More silence.

  “You can see her in the morning,” Mitch offered.

  “I don’t know what you think you’re up to Hayden, but you’d better think long and hard before you step too far over that line. I won’t tolerate you coming between me and my client.”

  Mitch shrugged off his shoulder holster and tossed it onto the bed behind him. “I’m getting tired of your threats, Ashton.” He gritted his teeth to hold back the rest of what he wanted to say. This was Mitch’s county. He didn’t need any big-city know-it-all telling him how to take care of his business.

  “You can’t stop me from seeing her, you know that.”

  “I have no intention of trying to stop you,” Mitch pointed out. “Be at my office at nine in the morning. You can see her then.”

  That tense silence again. “I’ll be there at eight,” Ashton countered hotly, “and if you ask her just one question outside my presence I swear you’ll regret it.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of questioning her without you,” Mitch assured him. “See you at nine.” He hung up the receiver before Ashton could protest.

  One thing was crystal clear, Mitch decided as he climbed into bed with his usual sleeping companion, his weapon, he had to get his head together before morning. Whatever it was that had allowed Alex to get so deeply under his skin in such a short time, he had to find a way to ignore it. Because if Mitch was half as easy to read where Alex was concerned as Ashton was, the hotshot lawyer already knew too much.