Chapter Thirty-Four

Elizabeth came to a screeching halt. “What are you doing here?”

Fitzgerald, wearing his civvies, was camped out at his desk. “I waited for Sheehan for an hour and he never showed. Marnie told me it’d look suspicious if I continued to sit there all afternoon not drinking and sitting in his spot.”

“What if he’s there now?”

“Marnie promised she’d call me if he showed up,” he bit back.

“Why does she know what you’re doing?”

Fitzgerald blanched.

For the love of all that was holy. “You told her?”

“No,” he snapped. “She figured out what I was doing. She wanted me to tell you that this idea is crap and it never would have worked.”

“Damn it.” Elizabeth looked at Rafe. “On today of all days, he pulls a disappearing act.”

“He only has so many places to go. That we know of.” Rafe settled into his desk chair.

“We just can’t have Ben show up at his home pretending to be defecting.”

“If he’s not at The Watering Hole, he’s probably at the Elks or the country club,” Georgia supplied.

Elizabeth made a face. “The Elks and the country club allowed him membership?”

“If he pays his dues, they have to. Doesn’t hurt when your cronies run the place.”

Growling, Elizabeth stalked to her office. “I’m getting exactly nowhere today but further in the hole.” She slapped a hand on the doorframe. “Have Dayne and Lundquist called in?”

Georgia shook her head.

Curling her hand into a fist, Elizabeth pressed her knuckles into the wood frame. A good scream would feel great right about now. Every muscle strained, pulling on her bones until she felt like they’d snap. But no. She must be in control. She was the sheriff. To show even an ounce female response to stress would set back any progress she’d made as an authoritative figure.

Bentley curled herself around Elizabeth’s legs, gazing up lovingly at her. Stroking her companion’s head, she let the motions soothe her frazzled brain.

“Ellie, all is not lost,” Rafe said. “We know more about what happened to our victims than we did two days ago.”

“But we don’t know why Brent was shot or who shot him.”

The phone rang, making her jerk. Georgia answered.

“We’re all tired,” Rafe continued. “Rest and give Dayne and Lundquist a little more time.”

“I can go to the hospital and keep an eye on Meyer,” Fitzgerald offered.

“Wait to see if Marnie calls you. If nothing happens in the next hour, we reassess. I’m hoping Olivia is able to get to the Pelham autopsy before the day is out.”

“Ellie,” Georgia said. “It’s Joel.”

Scowling, Elizabeth stepped over Bentley and stalked to her desk. She grabbed the receiver and punched the blinking line. “What?”

“Ellie . . . your . . . house. I’m shot.”

Her exhausted brain took a moment to unravel what he said, then her legs gave out and she landed hard on the chair.

“What?”

Rafe and Ben appeared in her doorway, probably summoned forward by Georgia.

“Elizabeth, I’m . . . shot . . . ” The line went silent.

Elizabeth’s body went slack, the receiver slipping free and cracking against the edge of her desk. A strangled sound ripped from her lips.

Rafe was at her side. “Ellie?”

“Joel’s dying.”

He rocked back on his heels, his body slamming into her desk. “No. Where is he?”

“My house.” Elizabeth didn’t recognize her voice.

Fitzgerald swore and ran out of the office. “Georgia, send an EMS unit to the sheriff’s place. I’m on my way.”

Rafe took hold of Elizabeth’s face. “Look at me.”

She met his gaze.

“We have to go to him. Now.” He straightened, grasped her hand, and helped her to her feet. “Bentley, stay.”

Numb, feeling like she was floating, Elizabeth let Rafe lead her out of the building.

“This isn’t happening,” she uttered.

But it was. Decades of living in a constant state of readiness as an army wife, prepared for that inevitable call, she thought she knew how she’d react. But she was divorced. This was not her life.

Rafe bundled her inside his car. She was losing it again. Letting him take charge.

Damn it all! She was the sheriff.

He slammed the driver’s side door and held up a finger as she turned and opened her mouth. “No arguing. Buckle up. We’re leaving.”

Elizabeth bailed from the Charger before Rafe had even put the car in park. The ambulance was rolling to a stop on the street as she ran up the drive. She mounted the porch steps two at a time.

As she grabbed the screen door, Fitzgerald appeared and caught her before she could enter the house. “Sheriff, no.” He wheeled her backward.

She slammed her fists against his chest. “Let go of me.”

Grimacing under her blows, he held fast, wrangling her out of the way as Rafe and the paramedics raced into the house.

“No!” she screamed, sagging into Fitzgerald’s arms.

“Sheriff, listen to me.” He hauled her up, but she gave up caring. “Listen, Joel is still alive. Let the medics do their job.”

“I need to see him.”

“Not a good idea. Stay out here.”

How was it possible to hurt Joel? Who in this town was capable of hurting him? Joel was an expert solider. He was trained in the art of war. He wasn’t easily waylaid.

“Marnie, take her,” Fitzgerald said over her head.

In the transfer from his hold to her sister’s, Elizabeth’s body gave out and she crumpled to the porch, dragging her sister down with her. Marnie cradled Elizabeth, allowing her to watch the door.

“Did you hear it?”

“No. I heard only the sirens.” Marnie stroked her head. “He’ll survive. He’s too damn stubborn to die.”

Clattering wheels stopped both women. A medic backed the gurney through the screen door. Elizabeth scrambled out of Marnie’s arms and bolted to her feet as the men wheeled her ex out of the house. Crimson bandages covered his chest, blood streaked his bare abdomen. Following next to the gurney, Rafe squeezed an oxygen bag. Elizabeth took two wobbling steps to follow but was blocked when Marnie stood.

Over her sister’s shoulder, Elizabeth watched the medics load Joel into the ambulance, then Rafe scrambling back as the doors were closed. The slap of the doors slammed home the reality of this for her. A man who had suffered nothing more serious than bruises and a few broken fingers was fighting for his life. Joel had lived through war only to be cut down on his home turf by someone breaking into her home.

Rafe’s face was a mask of agony and fury. Whoever did this would regret their decision to take down a Fontaine brother. Swiping a bloodied hand against his pant leg, Rafe turned and ran to his Charger. He roared out after the ambulance, leaving her behind.

Elizabeth felt something rip inside of her.

“Sheriff.”

A .22 dangled by the trigger guard on a pen Fitzgerald held out. Blood smeared the slide and handle. Joel’s blood.

“He was holding it when I came in.”

“He tried to stop them.” Marnie gripped Elizabeth’s shoulder. “I bet that’s how he got shot.”

“Call Lundquist. Get him back at the office. I want that thing dusted for prints.” Elizabeth snapped her spine straight. “I want my house processed top to bottom. They’re not getting away this time.”

As Fitzgerald put through the call to his fellow deputy, Elizabeth staggered into her house. The puddle of blood beside the partition was the lone thing to prove a crime had been committed.

“Sheriff, he’s not answering,” Fitzgerald said.

“Keep trying.”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

She wheeled around. “Try harder!”

“His phone goes straight to voice mail. It’s been turned off.”

“Call Lila.”

“I did. The same thing happens.”

“What the hell!?”

The screen door screeched open, and Elizabeth’s blood pressure rocketed. He would dare show his pompous, corrupt face in her presence. Her hand slapped to her sidearm. Shoot him now. Shoot him and be done with this whole affair. For Bre. For all the other people he had hurt or swindled. Their cry for justice deserved it.

“Get out of my home.”

Looking about in his typical nonchalant way, Sheehan ignored her.

Elizabeth drew her weapon and stalked past Fitzgerald, right up to Sheehan, aiming the gun in his face. “Get! Out!”

He swiped her gun to the side and stepped into her personal space, preventing her from rising her hands. “Careful, Sheriff. The last thing you need on your watch is a police shooting.”

“In this instance I’m not the sheriff or a law enforcement officer. I’m a woman defending her home.”

His gaze narrowed. “No. In every situation you are the sheriff.” He backed away from her. “He’s reacting. You learned too much, and now he’s cleaning up. Your deputies are in trouble.”

“He who?”

A wicked grin gave his bearded face a macabre look. “Holster your weapon, Sheriff.”

Sliding her sidearm home, she crossed her arms. “He who?”

“What I tell you gives me immunity from anything you learn about any perceived involvement I might have.”

“Perceived or not, I’m coming for you, Kelley.”

“Immunity or I walk.”

Elizabeth glanced at Fitzgerald, who shook his head. Marnie shrugged. Her gaze returned to Sheehan, who was tapping a finger against his watch face.

God forgive her for this.