“Thanks.”

  His voice rumbled through her, not completely washing away the fear she felt that he’d been so close to being killed tonight. But it helped. He was here. He was mostly whole.

  “Tell me.”

  “The security system tripped, which means a sensor was interrupted because someone had opened a door or window.”

  “But the video wasn’t on?”

  “I didn’t have time to get out my gun before he swung at me.” Tate winced. “I can’t believe he cut me.”

  She hissed out a breath through clenched teeth. “You should’ve shot him.”

  “It really is sweet that you care.”

  “Shut up.”

  He chuckled. Okay, she could admit she’d probably be offended if he had said that to her. Even though he apparently didn’t care, she still said, “Sorry.”

  Then she turned and perched on the edge of the desk at a right angle to him. She could feel his gaze on her. She shut her eyes and tried to process the fact Kenny Aggerton’s killer had come here. “To kill you?” Or to plant the knife.

  “That’s what I think,” he said.

  He’d tried to kill Tate.

  Savannah squeezed her eyes shut, at first trying to recall features she’d need to recount later. When they hunted this guy down.

  Then all she saw were her father’s eyes.

  “You okay?”

  She lowered her head, bracing her hands on her knees while she breathed. Long, slow breaths.

  “I didn’t realize you’d react like that.”

  She sniffed and lifted her head. “What do you mean? I always react like this.”

  She had to push away thoughts of her dad.

  Any other day. Or any other person. Lots of other scenarios, and she’d have been fine. Right? But she wasn’t. Peace and joy were supposed to be part of her life, but they weren’t. What was the point of going to church if it didn’t make her life better?

  He stood, then sat beside her on the edge of the desk. “It’s okay to not be okay.”

  “I’m fine.” She was pretty sure she’d said that out loud. Hadn’t she? He’d better not ask her to tell him what this was about. Better that he just thought she was freaking out because he’d been cut by a murderer.

  That was true—and far simpler than the depth of the actual truth.

  “You’re allowed to have ‘off’ days.”

  She said, “That would be Sundays.”

  “I mean days when you’re off your game.”

  “I know what you meant,” she said. “But when I’m ‘off’ like that, I miss things. People who should be in jail go free, and people who should be safe end up as collateral damage.”

  She gritted her teeth, forced again to push away thoughts of her father. Not something she wanted to remember.

  There was no room for being lax. Or not performing to the very extent of her abilities every day she worked. Allowing that had cost people their lives, or the quality of their lives—hers included. Bad guys had gotten away with stealing, intimidation, and causing pain. So much pain.

  She sniffed.

  “That sounds like a lot of pressure to be under.”

  She shrugged, striving to lighten the mood. “It’s why they pay me the big bucks.”

  “Do they?”

  “I asked Conroy for a raise when he became chief. He hasn’t gotten back to me yet.” They were so far off topic now. Despite the fact he was sitting so close, and she wanted to have that sweet conversation with him that he seemed open to, Savannah did have work to do. She should get back to it.

  Besides, he’d almost died. She hopped off the desk and turned to face him. “I need you to ID this guy so I can catch him.”

  “I have no idea who it was,” he said. “You saw the mask.”

  “Clothing. Height. Weight. Build. Did he say anything?”

  “I have legal pads. I’ll write you out a statement.”

  “Good.” She nodded.

  “That’s it? You shove it aside, and the moment is over. You’re all about the job, and whatever is wrong with you just isn’t there anymore?”

  “Nothing’s wrong with me.”

  He just stared at her.

  “You probably don’t feel good. If you give me that statement, I’ll let you get some rest.”

  “Nope.” He shook his head, winced, and said, “I don’t buy it.”

  She folded her arms across her chest. If he called her a chicken, she would probably punch him. Knife wound or not.

  He sighed.

  “When you write your statement, you can also write out your alibi for last night. I still need something from you if I’m going to officially rule out you as that guy wearing your sweater.”

  “It wasn’t me.”

  “And you can prove that beyond a doubt?”

  He pressed his lips into a thin line, then said, “I’m working on that.”

  “Give me all your phone records while you’re at it. And access to your work computer.”

  “No chance.”

  “Just checking.” She patted his shoulder. “Your head is fine.”

  His lips curled up on one side. “Told you.”

  “And your arm?”

  “Savannah, I’m good.”

  “Okay.” She waved a hand. “Whatever. I was just asking.”

  He took hold of the hand. Savannah’s whole body stilled. What was he doing standing, moving closer to her? He even leaned in. Speaking close to her face.

  Not too close. This was…nice.

  “You care about me.”

  She made a pfft sound that was far too loud. “No, I don’t.” And then she kept talking like an imbecile. “You’re just another victim. And a suspect in my case.” That was all there was to it. Nothing more.

  “You do this with all suspects?”

  “We’re not doing anything. So there’s nothing to not do.” She stepped back and tugged her hand from his. “Write your statement. I want to look at your back door.”

  She strode away from him. Coward. She could do with some bravery added to the peace and love she was supposed to be feeling. None of it came. She didn’t feel any different now than she had a minute ago. Just Savannah.

  And goodness, but wasn’t that just the entire problem.

  Savannah, who acted a whole lot like that woman she was trying not to be. Not anymore, anyways. This woman was supposed to be the new and improved one. Yeah, right.

  She blew out a breath and twisted the handle to the back door.

  The killer had come here with the murder weapon. Assuming Tate wouldn’t be here, since it was so late in the evening? No way could the guy know that when he’d broken in. Obvious to anyone who knew what they were looking for. He might as well have kicked the door in for all it hid of his intention to get inside, regardless of the lock being engaged.

  First the sweater—hoodie—now this? Tate was being targeted. Whether he was involved in Aggerton’s life, or death, he would be part of her investigation in some fashion. Either as the suspect, or as a key witness who helped her break the case and find the killer.

  Had the intruder been planning to leave the knife somewhere inside Tate’s office? Could be this was a simple frame job. A way to cause her confusion by implicating him.

  Could be.

  Savannah heard raised voices from the reception area but couldn’t make out what was being said. She tugged her gun from its holster just in case and tiptoed back to the hall.

  “…coming here.” That was Tate.

  A man’s voice boomed. “You know why. Don’t deny it.” He called Tate a foul name. “You took my wife and daughter from me.”

  Seven

  Robert Gaynes was an inch shorter than Tate, and at least thirty pounds lighter. His frame was packed tight, though, since he worked out incessantly—something Tate figured he did to compensate for his small eyes and hook nose.

  What he didn’t have in physical stature, he made up for with a grudge against the world the size of Alaska. Tate figured he’d have inadequacy issues, too, if he had Rob’s same occupation working on the city council housing committee.

  “Claire isn’t here, Rob.” Tate widened his stance. He wanted to fold his arms but didn’t, keeping his fists free to use at a moment’s notice. Thankfully there wasn’t a gun within reach, as he’d just stowed his in the desk drawer. He’d have been tempted to shoot the guy, and then Savannah would have no choice but to arrest him.

  Tate had to fight to keep his composure. Punching Rob would be immensely satisfying, but that was what this guy had done with Claire. Why perpetuate the cycle? Especially with someone who had no problem with what he’d done.

  Tate said, “She’s unconscious in the hospital. From what you did to her.”

  There was no remorse in his eyes. No shame and not an ounce of guilt either. Rob also didn’t seem surprised that Tate new about it. Since he wasn’t surprised to hear she’d been hurt, did that mean he probably had something to do with it? He could have found out from a number of sources, but Tate decided then that his guilt was plain to see.

  Rob opened his mouth. Probably to fire back a smart remark.

  Tate said, “Don’t bother.”

  He wasn’t in the mood for an argument. His arm stung. He’d come face to face with a killer and been sliced up. Throw in Rob catching him off guard and the way the gash on his arm throbbed incessantly. Now he was just irritated.

  Savannah was still here. Her reaction to him getting hurt, and what it meant, was something he needed to seriously process—when his mind could actually do that. Later. After pain meds, and a nap in his recliner.

  Truth was, Dean had told him in their last text exchange that Tate should be taking a visit to see the doctor. Tate likely needed to, and not just because the former Navy SEAL knew what he was talking about when it came to injuries. Tate needed his cut secured with butterfly tabs and then bandaged. Sure, it wasn’t that deep. But it also didn’t feel good.

  Rob said, “I shouldn’t bother asking you why my daughter took all her stuff and never came home last night?” The little man—that was how Tate liked to think of him—was gearing up for a fight.

  Tate shrugged one shoulder. “Did you file a missing person’s report for your stepdaughter?”

  “She’s a teenager. She probably ran away.”

  He’d been her stepfather for years, but hadn’t ever adopted her. Not that Elexa would have agreed. She didn’t like him now any more than she did the day he walked into her mom’s—their—life. Half the conversations Tate had with her were about the despicable things he’d said, or done.

  He’d lost count of the amount of times he’d tried to persuade Claire to press charges. But Rob had, so far, left Elexa alone. Thankfully. No doubt when that changed he’d be able to convince Claire, but Tate didn’t want it to reach that place. Not ever. And for what? Some false sense of what her life was supposed to be, denying the mess it really was.

  Tate couldn’t know what went on in Claire’s head, and he’d given up the right to have a say in how she led her life. But she wasn’t safe—to the extent she was now unconscious in the hospital.

  Still needing to wake up.

  And when she did wake, he would try to appeal to her again. Happiness was never worth the price of being hurt. Even if it was pretend happiness.

  Tate said, “Maybe you should check with the hospital. Then you can find out how your wife is doing, and at the same time, see if Elexa has visited.” He folded his arms then, just to keep his fists from starting a fight with Rob.

  He wanted this scumbag to face what he’d done. Instead, Rob shrugged. “They’ll take care of her.”

  “That’s supposed to be your job. As her husband.”

  “Like you’d know,” Rob fired back. “The way you treated her. She told me all about how you hurt her and then left her.” He said the last few words with a high-pitched voice, then broke into laughter.

  Tate took a breath. Then he said, “Yeah, I hurt her. Neither of us would deny that. But I can’t say I recall taking my fists to her or slapping her. Not even one time. Not ever.” He shifted half a step closer. Far enough he could bump Rob with his arms and send the guy back a step—or onto his butt. “Not like you, Councilman.”

  “Like you can prove that.”

  “I hope she wakes up and presses charges. Then files for divorce.”

  If she woke up. There was a chance Claire never would, and he’d have to support Elexa through the burial of her mother. He would be right there with her. Trying, right alongside Elexa, to figure out a life without her in it. Not a chance he’d let her go through that alone. They didn’t spend much time together. Not with Rob in her life. But Tate still cared about Elexa, and she knew it. Counted on him.

  Not always a healthy situation, but he was never going to let her just swing in the breeze, unprotected from the person who was supposed to be keeping her safe.

  Rob roared. He launched himself at Tate.

  Before they connected, he heard, “Councilman Gaynes. How nice to see you.”

  Savannah. He’d been wondering when she would emerge from the back hall. He’d have to remember to commend her on her excellent timing. He shifted back and to the side, so that Rob stumbled two steps with nothing to grasp. Tate wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of being another one of his punching bags. Someone to take his frustration out on.

  “Detective.” Rob straightened, clearing his throat and touching his hair. The back of his knuckles were split and bruised. Abrasions from a fight.

  Tate said, “How’d you get those?”

  He didn’t figure he’d admit to beating his wife, but wanted to try to trip him up in front of a cop anyway. No way to avoid the question.

  If Savannah hadn’t been here, and Tate had been fighting fit, he’d be playing things much differently.

  Rob looked at his hands. “I fell.”

  Tate bit down on his molars. How many times had he heard Claire say that before he finally got her to admit what Rob had done? “And your wife, in the hospital? How’d she get there?”

  “How would I know?” He shot Tate a defiant look. “You’re the one who’s seen her. Maybe you put her there.”

  “Elexa called me. She said you were planning on having dinner with Claire so the two of you could talk.”

  “Fine.” Rob huffed. “I’m filing for divorce. I wanted to tell her so she could prepare, but instead she lost it and came at me in a rage.”

  “I’ve never even seen her lose her temper.” Tate studied Rob’s face. There was something in his eyes that told Tate this was more than simply covering his own behind. He was hiding something else.

  Savannah said, “Councilman Gaynes, perhaps we should head to the police station. Make this conversation official, instead of a collection of unsubstantiated claims being bandied back and forth.”

  When that was so fun? Tate glanced at her. He had to wonder what she thought was going on.

  Rob said, “That won’t be necessary. My wife is missing, so I figured I’d ask the man who’s been sleeping with her for years where she might be.”

  “Years?”

  “Certainly most of our marriage.”

  Bile filled Tate’s mouth. “And you can prove this, I guess?”

  That would be hard to do considering it wasn’t true. Savannah had to know that.

  “You’re a private investigator, so I’m certain you know how to cover your tracks. But I know what’s true.”

  Tate said nothing. Or he’d wind up getting arrested instead of Rob, which was likely what the guy hoped for.

  “I’ll be paying a visit to the hospital, Councilman.” Savannah said, “Just as soon as your wife wakes up. I’d like to get to the bottom of whatever this is.”

  “Good idea,” Tate said. “You might also want to find out if there’s any love lost between Kenny Aggerton and our esteemed councilman.”

  While they were here, he might as well make the valid point that Rob probably had as much of a grudge against the dead man as anyone else. Certainly more than Tate might have.

  “Are you accusing me of murdering him?” Something sparked in Rob’s eyes. “Where were you when Aggerton was murdered?”

  Tate said, “None of your business.”

  “No?” Rob smirked. “Word from the police department is that you’re a person of interest in the case. Their number one suspect, even.”

  “Is that right?” Tate wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing him frustrated when the truth was Savannah was just doing her job.

  “After all,” Rob said, “why else would the police be here?”

  “This office was broken into,” Savannah said. “That’s why I’m here. Not because I’m questioning Mr. Hudson about his involvement in any of my other open cases.”

  That was a nice touch, referring to him like that. Though Rob might’ve seen them around together, or heard they’d worked side by side to help Mia and Conroy. Or, maybe he had no idea she and Tate knew each other at all, outside of this call and her showing up here to investigate a break-in.

  Who knew how far Rob had his finger in what went on in this town? Far enough he managed to keep his marital strife to himself so no one other than Tate suspected a thing.

  Too bad Elexa couldn’t prove what she believed—that Rob had been the one who hurt her mom. This time, at least. Otherwise Tate would convince her to press charges on her mom’s behalf. Maybe she could give a statement about some of the other things he’d done…

  Tate needed to talk to her about that.

  Rob sneered. “He’s not at the top of your suspect list for no reason. Sooner or later I’ll find out.”

  Savannah said, “I’m happy to confirm with my chief, but it’s my understanding that police investigations aren’t your purview over at city hall as head of Infrastructure and Transportation. But if there’s a pothole on my street, I’ll give you a call.”

  Tate pressed his lips together, but Rob probably saw the smirk that wanted out. Still, a niggle of worry entered the picture. Not for him. Tate had no problem going up against Rob. The guy could use his position in local government to cause problems for him, sure. But did Tate care about that?