Six-Gun Investigation Page 17

  Then it hit her. Secrets. Her hand flew to her mouth as excitement bubbled up from her chest. The false bottom. Of course. The false bottom wasn’t the real treasure. It hid another compartment. And that was where they’d hidden their most important notes.

  How did it open? She closed her eyes and felt around the edge of the case, trying to pretend that her fingers were a child’s fingers, and trying to find something that seemed familiar. She touched each brad, counting, trying to remember how to release the latch.

  Then she found it. There was one brad that was infinitesimally larger than the others and slightly textured, where the others were smooth.

  She slid her fingernail under it and lifted, but nothing happened. In her mind’s eye she saw Lou Ann showing her how to get it open.

  Of course! She twisted the brad half a turn to the left then two complete turns to the right.

  A soft click told her she’d succeeded. What appeared to be the bottom of the case had popped up, no more than a quarter inch. She lifted it and gasped.

  There, in a compartment that was barely larger than the first, lay dozens of sheets of paper. Without touching them, Anna knew they were her mother’s.

  This was the proof of who had killed Lou Ann and Sarah. Anna reached for a sheet that looked like a letter from Lou Ann, but she stopped herself.

  It was evidence. Maybe enough evidence to convict her mother’s and sister’s murderer. She needed to leave it alone and to let Zane inspect it. As much as her fingers twitched to dig into the thin stack of papers and receipts and notes, she didn’t want anything to compromise the chain of evidence. Her experience as a journalist had taught her that any question about who’d touched evidence or where it had been could get a case thrown out.

  What she needed to do was to put the case back and get out of here. If Jim or anybody else came back with Zane, she sure didn’t want them to know what she’d found. She’d tell Zane when they were alone. She winced, imagining his anger when he realized she’d touched the case.

  She stuck it back on the shelf, turned out the lights and exited, locking the door.

  As the sound of the lock clicking echoed in the silence, a load of tension lifted from her shoulders and her eyes filled with tears. Finally, after all these years, maybe her mother could rest in peace.

  Sticking the keys in her pocket, Anna walked down the hall to the break room to wash her hands and grab a bottle of water. She didn’t bother turning on the light. The red and blue glow from the vending machines reminded her of how safe and sexy she felt in Zane’s arms.

  She let cool water from the sink run on her wrists for several seconds, then splashed her face, soothing her burning eyes. As she dried her face and hands, she heard another soft bump.

  Zane.

  She tossed the hand towel down and rushed out the door, turning toward the front room.

  She heard a rustling noise behind her. Confused, she turned. A dark looming shadow filled her vision.

  Before she could react, the shadow moved and pain exploded in her head.

  Chapter Twelve

  “I know you have it!”

  Anna woke to dizziness. She felt as though her head were tumbling down a hill. She couldn’t focus, couldn’t get her bearings.

  “Where is it? Tell me or you’ll die!” The guttural voice penetrated through the haze of confusion that obscured her vision. Someone’s punishing hands squeezed her upper arms, shaking her, literally scrambling her brains.

  She squinted, trying to see something—anything— that would explain what was happening.

  All she saw was darkness. The figure looming over her was cloaked in black. Even his head was covered by a large hood that obscured his face. The blue and red lights from the vending machines barely lit the hall; in fact, they added to the shadows.

  The attacker slammed the back of her head against the floor. “Talk!”

  She tried. “I don’t—know—what you’re—”

  The figure slammed her head against the floor again. “You know, don’t you?”

  Anna shook her head desperately. “No!” She knew she was fighting for her life—knew if she didn’t succeed she’d suffer the same fate as Lou Ann and Sarah.

  Her vision was blurred and her head pounded. Still, she pushed at the cloaked figure and tried to scream.

  But he had the advantage. He shoved her onto her stomach and wrapped something around her neck. She struggled, tried to push herself up to her knees, but he was too strong.

  The strap tightened. Anna gasped and arched backward as the stiff garrote bit into her neck.

  “Last chance,” the rasping voice warned. “What did she give you? Where’s the proof?”

  Anna groped behind her, frantically grasping for something to grab on to. She was becoming light-headed from lack of air.

  Suddenly her fingers touched heavy fabric. The cloak. Wrapping her fingers around the handful of material, she clutched it as her vision went black and her lungs screamed out for air.

  Something rang—a harsh death knell that filled her ears. Anna felt consciousness fading away.

  Did death sound like a cell phone?

  ZANE STALKED BACK to the sheriff’s office, a cold anger simmering inside him. The attack on the desk clerk was nothing but a halfhearted attempt at a mugging.

  Richie had been pushed to the ground just outside the door to the inn. His palms were scraped and his ego was bruised, but that was all. Zane had called one of the deputies to take his statement.

  As he approached the building, a movement on the back side of the office caught his eye. Clouds obscured the moon, so all Zane could see was a dark shape heading across the parking lot away from the station.

  Annie. His heart seized. He’d left her in the station alone. Had someone tried to get in?

  He ran up the steps, key in hand, and unlocked the door and shoved it open. The reception area was dark. Maybe she was asleep. As soon as he thought it, he knew it wasn’t true. Something was wrong.

  “Annie!” he shouted. “Annie, where are you?”

  The faint glow from the vending machines wasn’t enough light to see anything. He flipped the switch by the door and took in the reception area with a single glance.

  Then he saw the small, crumpled figure lying on the floor of the hall—unmoving. His heart slammed against his chest wall—the pain of it nearly knocking him down.

  “Annie,” he croaked. Dear God, don’t let her be dead.

  His hand shook as he drew his weapon. His heart told him to go to Annie, but his head reasoned that the person who’d done this might still be in the building.

  He grabbed his cell phone with his other hand and flipped it open, taking a few precious seconds to locate Jon’s number and call him.

  He crept forward, leading with his weapon, but unable to take his eyes off Anna.

  She was so still, and a small puddle of blood was collecting beneath her head. There was a strap of some kind wrapped around her neck.

  “No, God!” He knelt and put his fingers against her throat. He felt a faint pulse and his chest and gut cramped in relief.

  “Dr. Evans.” Jon’s voice came through the phone.

  “Jon—”

  “Zane? What is it? What’s the matter?”

  “Jon, it’s Annie. The station.” His throat closed up. His eyes burned with tears.

  “Hang on. I’m coming.” Jon hung up.

  Zane rose and did what he had to do. He checked every inch of the station and found nothing. No sign that anyone except Anna had been there.

  A quiet little moan caught his attention. His pulse quickened. She was coming to.

  He quickly checked the back door, using his handkerchief to turn the knob, but it was dead-bolted, just like he’d left it.

  Turning and holstering his gun in one motion, he rushed to her side and knelt.

  She uttered a soft cry and tried to push herself up with one hand.

  “Annie—”

  She froze, then lift
ed her head. “Zane?” Her voice was small and fractured.

  “Yeah, honey, it’s me. Stay still. Jon’s on his way.”

  “Help me sit up.”

  “Okay, honey, just a minute.” He dialed another number on his cell phone. “Spinoza, I need you to check out the back of the station. Someone broke in and attacked Anna, and I want the whole place gone over.”

  “What am I looking for?”

  “Footprints, anything that tells us who it was and how they got in and out. Check the ground around the bathroom window.”

  “I’ll get right on it.”

  “And call Enis. Someone attacked the desk clerk at the inn. I believe it was a distraction. The real target was Anna. Burns is at the inn, wrapping things up with Richie. Get one of them on checking alibis, and one of you grill the desk clerk. He was so scared he was about to pass out on me. Maybe he’s calmed down now.”

  After disconnecting with Spinoza and putting his phone away, he sat beside Anna on the floor.

  She threw her arms around his neck, squeezing so tightly, so desperately, that he couldn’t help but respond. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close.

  “It’s okay, Annie. It’s okay,” he whispered. He held her and reassured her until Jon arrived.

  Jon was there within ten minutes. He sat her at the break room table and pulled a chair up beside her. After retrieving bandages and alcohol pads from his bag, he checked the bleeding abrasion on the side of her head.

  While Jon made sure she was all right, Zane gloved up and unwrapped the strap from her neck and stuck it into an evidence bag.

  “Tell me what happened,” he said as he unwrapped a swab and gently took a sample from the abrasion on her temple. It was a long shot that it would yield anything except her own blood, but he couldn’t overlook any possible evidence.

  She sat as she’d been sitting the first time he’d seen her. Her head was high, her neck and shoulders stiff. She had her hands clasped in her lap, and she looked stunned.

  Jon shone a light in her eyes, felt her neck and told her to swallow, then he looked down her throat. He nodded, giving her permission to talk.

  She put a hand to her throat. “I was in the break room and I heard something.” Her gaze met Zane’s. “I thought it was you.”

  The look in her eyes shocked him. Her expression was filled with trust and something he couldn’t name but that frightened him and sent his heart soaring at the same time.

  “So I rushed out into the hall and—” She stopped to swallow and clear her throat. “And he…hit me.”

  “How did he get in? Did you unlock the rear door for some reason?”

  She shook her head, her eyes on her hands. “No! I didn’t touch the rear door. I didn’t—” Her voice was getting higher and tighter.

  “Hey, hey, Annie. It’s okay.” He squeezed her shoulder. “Jon, how is she?”

  The doctor put away his alcohol pads and bandages. “No real damage.” He smiled at Annie. “You’ll have new bruises on your neck to go with the old ones.”

  She shuddered.

  “And that bump on your head is going to give you a headache. Take some ibuprofen or acetaminophen. If the pain gets worse, or you start feeling dizzy, call me.”

  “Thanks, Jon,” Zane said.

  Jon nodded and shot him a look. Zane had no doubt as to his meaning. Get her out of town, to a safe place. He nodded at the doctor.

  He sat in the chair Jon had vacated. “Okay, Annie. Tell me what happened. Start at the beginning.”

  “When I ran out of the break room, something slammed into my head. I fell. I must have passed out for a few seconds.” She put a hand to her bandaged head and squeezed her eyes shut for an instant.

  “The next thing I knew I was on the floor and he was looming over me. He said, ‘I know you have it,’ and ‘What did Sarah give you?’ Then he said, ‘Where is the proof? Tell me or you’ll die.’” She began to tremble.

  It pained Zane to see her like this. He felt guilty— responsible. He’d left her here alone.

  He took her hand and her fingers squeezed his. “Are you sure it was a man? Was he tall, short, bulky, thin?”

  “I’m not sure of anything. Whoever it was wore a thick black cloak. A cloak with a hood. He looked like Death—black hood and no face.”

  “Was it the same person who attacked you outside the inn?”

  “Maybe.” She pulled her hand out of his grip and studied it. “I tried to grab the cloak. It was heavy— like wool.”

  Zane took her hand again, this time to examine it. His pulse leaped. “There are black fibers under your nails.”

  He jumped up. “Don’t move.” He ran to the office, grabbed the evidence box and hurried back.

  “I’m going to take fingernail scrapings. Maybe we can somehow trace the material. When did you grab his cloak? What happened next?” He scraped under her nails and placed the scrapings in a plastic bag as she talked.

  “He pushed me over onto my stomach. My head was still groggy, and pounding with pain.”

  Zane nodded. The bandage on her temple was barely whiter than her face. He had the urge to lean over and kiss away the single tear that trickled down her cheek. But he couldn’t. He was not her lover, he was the investigator in charge of this case.

  “He had a strap of some kind. Maybe leather. He wrapped it around my neck and—and strangled me, saying he’d kill me.”

  “What about his voice?”

  She shook her head. “Whoever it was growled. He or she was obviously disguising their voice. I don’t know why. He was going to kill me anyway.” She smiled a sad, ironic smile.

  Zane couldn’t shake the longing to take her in his arms and promise her he’d keep her safe. But how could he promise that? He’d left her alone for less than twenty minutes and she’d been attacked. He and she would be a lot better off if he’d just focus on his job.

  “Why’d he stop?”

  “What?” She frowned at him.

  “Why did he stop strangling you? Why did he run away?”

  “I don’t know that, either. I couldn’t breathe. I tried to struggle but with no air I had no strength. I did hear some kind of ringing. I thought it meant I was dying. Then suddenly, the attacker was gone and I guess I passed out.”

  “What did the ringing sound like?”

  “That’s what’s so odd. It sounded like a cell phone.”

  Zane stared at her. “A cell phone? Are you sure?”

  Anna nodded. “Why?”

  His brain was racing. A cell phone could mean that someone had called the murderer—warned him that Zane was headed back to the station.

  “On my way back here, I saw a dark figure behind the station house.”

  “You saw him? My attacker?”

  “Yeah. I should have pursued him, but I was afraid something had happened to you.”

  Anna heard the frustration in Zane’s voice. If he hadn’t felt obligated to check on her, could he have caught the murderer?

  She, too, was sorry he hadn’t grabbed the cloaked figure, but the idea that his first thought was for her broke though the dense fog of terror that enveloped her.

  “The dead bolt is still locked on the rear door. He must have come in through the bathroom window. Didn’t you hear anything?”

  “There was something—like a quiet thud. I couldn’t tell where it came from. Then I heard it again a few moments later, while I was in the break room.” Anna winced inwardly. She’d left herself wide open for his next question. And she knew by the look in his eye what he was about to ask. She swallowed nervously. It hurt her throat.

  Zane pushed his chair back and sat with his elbows resting on his knees. He looked up at her from under his brow. “Where were you when you heard the first thud?”

  “Zane, I—” She stopped at the venomous look in his eye.

  He nodded and stood. “Save it. I know you’re a reporter. It makes sense that you’d be snooping.”

  “I am a journalist.
And I was not snooping. Besides, you’re not going to believe what I found!”

  He folded his arms and stared down his nose at her. “What?” he barked.

  “I found the papers.”

  Zane’s gaze sharpened. “Papers?”

  She nodded eagerly. “I’d forgotten. The magician’s suitcase—Mom was right. Secrets only hide more secrets.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Sarah’s suitcase has two hidden compartments, one below the other.”

  “Are you telling me you went into the evidence room? That you touched the suitcase?” His voice was cold—hard.

  She didn’t like this icy professional with his accusations and his sudden aloof demeanor. She needed the gentle protector who had made her believe everything was going to be all right.

  His gaze bore into her.

  “I found Lou Ann’s papers. I found the proof.”

  His mouth tightened into a straight line. “You found the proof? Damn it, Annie, do you have any idea what you’ve done? You’ve tampered with evidence. You could be accused of planting whatever is in that case.”

  “No. They’re authentic. You’ll see. They’re my mother’s. She kept receipts, notes—who knows what-all might be in there.” Anna wanted to cry. She knew he’d be angry, but she hadn’t expected this chilling, unforgiving calm. He acted like he’d been waiting for her to screw up his case.

  Had he used her, taking the opportunity to leave her alone with the keys, figuring if Sarah had brought the proof to Justice with her, Anna would find it and his job would be done?

  “It doesn’t matter if there’s a signed confession in there. You’ve compromised the evidence, broken the chain of custody. Do you understand?”

  She nodded, biting her lip.

  “What all did you touch?” he said on a sigh.

  She lowered her gaze. She couldn’t stand to see the anger and disappointment etched on his face. “After you and your dad left, I was thinking about you two, which led me to think about my mom and my sister. I missed them. I wanted to feel like they were nearby. It made sense that Mom’s suitcase was in the evidence room. I took it off the shelf and just looked at it, thinking about when Sarah and I were children and we would hide notes and diaries in the case. Then I remembered what Sarah wrote. She warned me to remember what Mom always said about secrets.”