Terri Reed - The Deputy’s Duty

She eased her foot from the gas. The car’s acceleration dropped.

“Put your foot on the brake,” Ryan instructed.

She did as asked. Allowing him to guide her hands, she pulled the car to the curb, halting at an odd angle. Smoke curled from under the Subaru’s hood. She began to shake.

“You’re bleeding!” Ryan quickly undid his seat belt and bolted from the car.

He limped around to her side of the car and yanked open the driver’s door. Carefully, he eased her out of the seat. The world swam and she clung to him for support. He helped her to sit on the curb.

Her dress was covered in brown sticky stuff. She frowned. Her left hand was covered in it, too.

Blood.

The thought slammed into her mind, sending waves of shock through her system. She was bleeding. Nausea churned, she clamped her mouth tight. She would not throw up on him.

Ryan took off his blue uniform shirt and then his white T-shirt, revealing the nasty bruises peeking out from under the bandage wrapped around his torso. He bunched the T-shirt into a ball and pressed it to her shoulder. Pain zinged at the point of contact.

Her mind grappled to make sense of why he was doing that.

Reality crashed in. She’d been shot. She swayed.

“Put your head between your knees,” Ryan said, pushing her head down with gentle pressure.

After a moment the world stopped spinning. The sounds of sirens sent a tremor coursing over her flesh. Twice in one day they were waiting for an ambulance.

Thank You, Lord, for Your protection.

“Who were those men?” she asked Ryan when she felt steady enough to raise her head.

His mouth pressed into a grim line. “I don’t know.”

“Do you think this is connected to Christina?”

“Could be. Maybe. I don’t know.”

“Are you working on another case? Someone who wants you dead?” she asked, reaching for some explanation.

“No.” He peered at her. “What about you? What are you working on?”

“Just my cousin’s murder.”

At the reminder, she shuddered. Her cousin had been murdered, and now someone had tried to kill her and Ryan. Was this attempt on their lives connected in some way to Olivia’s death? Had Christina orchestrated the masked gunmen?

“Is the dolphin charm the only evidence you have that Christina might be involved in Olivia’s murder?” she asked, hoping to piece the facts together.

“There was a second blood sample found on the rock used to kill Olivia. DNA testing finally eliminated my brother Charles as a suspect. I wouldn’t be surprised if Christina Hennessy’s DNA is all over that rock.”

She was glad his brother was no longer a suspect in Olivia’s death. Charles Fitzgerald had been Olivia’s employer. She’d been his twins’ nanny. Meghan knew Olivia had loved those kids.

“When the charm was identified as Christina’s,” he continued, “I wondered. Then she skipped town with Georgina, coupled with Burke’s death…leads me to believe she’s got a dark side. Now we know for sure she’s capable of violence. When we take Christina into custody, we’ll run her DNA. If it matches…”

“Then she was at least there when Olivia was killed. She could have been struck with the same rock, for all you know.”

“True. Unless she confesses, the evidence places her at the crime scene but doesn’t make her a murderer.”

Meghan’s reporter instincts were clamoring, sensing a bigger story than she’d originally anticipated. One worthy of catapulting her career forward. Just what the story entailed she had yet to determine. “But Ryan, if these masked gunmen are connected to Christina, then whatever she’s into, it’s bigger than my cousin’s or Burke Hennessy’s death.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “You’re right. But I don’t have a clue what she’s gotten herself into or how big it is.”

Setting aside the lure of a big story for the moment, she put her hand on his. “Promise me, Ryan, the priority will be getting Georgina back safely.”

He covered her hand with his. “I promise.”

She swallowed a tide of unease. She could only hope once she told him the truth about Olivia’s parentage he’d be a man of his word and keep his promise.

The next morning, Ryan sat at his desk staring out the window of his office in the fishing village where he’d grown up. It was a beautiful June day, the sun was shining, a nice breeze blew in from the bay, and the townspeople were busy with their lives despite that fact that twice in the past six months there’d been a murder in their quiet haven. Two more than there’d been in the past several decades.

Frustration beat a steady tempo behind his eyes. The town and its people wouldn’t be safe until he got to the bottom of Olivia Henry’s and Burke Hennessy’s deaths.

But did those two murders have anything to do with the van that ambushed him and Meghan yesterday?

The van was nowhere to be found, Christina Hennessy and little Georgina were still missing, and Ryan’s father wanted to call in the FBI. Ryan knew they should. Their police department wasn’t equipped to do a full-scale investigation across state lines. But losing the case chafed.

A knock at his door brought up his gaze. Meghan Henry stood in the doorway. His breath caught in his chest. Her cheek still bore the mark from the hit she’d taken by Christina’s thug. But nothing could detract from the natural beauty she exuded. Today she wore white capris and a light purple flowing top. She looked like a fairy princess. All she needed was a crown of flowers.

He frowned. When did he become so whimsical? That wasn’t like him. “Morning, Meghan. How’s your shoulder?”

She briefly touched the place on her shoulder where a bullet had grazed her. The bandage covering the wound wasn’t visible beneath her top. “Doctor says it will hurt for a while, but will heal.” Dropping her hand, she asked, “How are your injuries?”

“Barely noticeable.” Except when he breathed real deep. But admitting to the vulnerability wasn’t going to happen.

She strode forward and stopped at the edge of his desk in a swirl of energy. “Has there been any news about Georgina?”

“No, I’m sorry, there hasn’t been. I’m about to call the FBI and hand over the case to them.”

She drew back. “No. You promised you’d find Georgina.”

“Meghan, this is bigger than this department can handle. Christina has crossed state lines. Though technically, she hasn’t kidnapped her child.”

Anger flashed in her hazel eyes. “But Georgina’s not hers!”

He understood her upset but he had to follow the law. “That’s for a judge to decide.”

“Georgina’s in danger. You saw Christina. She’s nuts. If nothing else, she held a cop at gunpoint. Surely that warrants you pursuing her.”

“We’re doing everything in our power to bring her in.”

“You maybe, but not your father. He’s as responsible for Olivia’s death as Christina.”

“My father?” The woman had obviously lost her mind. Maybe the blow to the head had loosened something. “What are you talking about?”

She waved a letter in the air. The letter from Olivia, he guessed.

“Your father knew that Olivia had come to Fitzgerald Bay looking for her baby girl, and he chose to ignore her pleas for help.”

He let out a scoff full of annoyance. “That is untrue. My father barely knew Olivia.”

“Really? Is that what he told you?” She shook her head. “I’m not going to let you all sweep this under the rug. If your father had done the right thing to begin with Olivia would never… Her life would have been different. Better. She wouldn’t be dead now.”

Fury swept over him at the implication in her words. “What are you saying?”