Ian raised his rifle, wanting to shoot. There was no evidence that Malone was in immediate danger, and Ian couldn’t shout.

  But what could he do?

  He couldn’t jump Flagg unless Vern maneuvered the basket into position right next to Flagg. That wouldn’t work. If Flagg saw Ian’s approach, he’d have time to harm Malone or take her hostage.

  No. Ian couldn’t let either of those happen.

  Flagg faced Malone and pushed her to the ground. A knife came up in his hand, and he bent over her. His arm started down.

  “Stop, police!” Ian shouted.

  Flagg spun, but Ian didn’t know if the knife had hit home before he turned.

  Ian sighted his scope on the man’s chest, the red dot over his heart.

  Flagg looked down at his chest, and his mouth dropped open. He threw down the knife and ran, charging up to the house. Ian wouldn’t shoot a fleeing man in the back, but he couldn’t go after him either. Not from the basket.

  “Bring in the cavalry!” he said into his mic to Londyn.

  “Roger that,” Londyn said, and he heard her give the order for the others to move.

  Sirens sounded from the road. Ian prayed the officers or Londyn arrested Flagg. Because right now, Ian had only one thing in mind. He had to get to Malone.

  Had she been stabbed? Was she bleeding out?

  Malone was alive. Flagg didn’t stab her.

  Thank You! Thank You!

  So close. It had been so very, very close.

  She wanted to get up but her legs lost all strength. Her heart was racing, and she panted to catch her breath and blow out her fear. Her clothes were saturated from the rain that was now receding, making them heavier.

  The second she felt stronger, she climbed to her feet. She’d heard Ian’s voice come out of the sky. But how? On her feet, she spotted the lift carrying him up to the patio.

  Ingenious. And even more impressive that Ian figured out how to find her.

  The basket came up close, and he jumped out the door onto the ground by the deck, his rifle strapped to his back.

  He climbed over the framing to get to her, his gaze alert. “Are you hurt?”

  “No, but another minute more, and I might’ve been dead.” She shuddered.

  Ian let out a long breath and enveloped her in a hug. She clung to him, inhaling his unique scent, reveling in his touch. Her legs felt like rubber, and she wanted to sit, but she needed his touch more than a chair.

  “I’m alive because of you,” she whispered, barely able to get the words out.

  “Flagg could circle back once he sees the officers,” he said, when all she wanted was for him to hold her. “I need to get you into the basket. We’ll continue this when he’s in custody.”

  She nodded her understanding. She would agree to anything, but she was too overwhelmed with gratitude to continue talking.

  “I’ll update Londyn.”

  “Malone’s unhurt,” he said in his mic. “Report when Flagg’s in custody.”

  “Roger that.”

  Ian escorted Malone to the basket that the operator had settled on the patio framing, the door facing them. Ian helped her climb aboard with a tight hold on her arm and a gentle hand resting on her back.

  His touch ignited her ability to overcome the weakness in her legs and keep going. She moved to the back of the basket and held on while Ian climbed in.

  Her eyes widened. “I thought you would go after Flagg.”

  “I wouldn’t leave you unprotected.” Ian closed the basket. “We’ll be down before you know it.”

  He motioned to the guy operating the lift, and he lowered them. “Full speed again.”

  The man got the lift moving. The jolt unsettled Malone, and she hung onto the cold rail. The basket backed up and lowered faster than she’d have guessed it could move. Ian stood, rifle in hand, scanning the area.

  “Flagg was really going to kill you?” the construction worker asked.

  Now that Malone’s adrenaline was subsiding, anguish over her near death clogged her throat, and she nodded. Her leg muscles nearly failed, and she worked hard to stay standing until they reached the ground.

  Ian continued to search the area with his scope. “Okay. Stay by my side, and we’ll move toward my car.”

  He stepped out, and she marveled at his concentration and commanding presence in such a dangerous situation. He was her hero. She would tell him that, but not now. When this was over, she would thank him in every way she could think of.

  They stepped across the thick gravel. He kept his rifle up and unlocked the doors with his key fob.

  “Back seat, please,” he said not looking at her. “And on the floor.”

  “You really think Flagg is coming down here?”

  “I can’t take a chance with your life, Malone.” He took a long tortured breath, the first hint that he was upset. “Never with your life.”

  The intensity of his conviction made her heart swell with a feeling she never knew before. Love for a man. Not just any man but this special man. The one who seemed uncertain in many ways, but when it came to life-or-death matters, he showed up. Showed up big time.

  She climbed into the back and lay down on the floor.

  He closed the door and stood guard. Time ticked by, the only sound was trees swaying in the strong wind that had kicked up. She focused on the sound to keep from giving in to the weakness invading her body.

  She didn’t want to fall apart.

  She had to focus. To think clearly. Not be a weak, sobbing woman who made things harder for Ian. The man she owed her life to.

  To Ian, but mostly to God. He’d brought Ian into her life. Her protector.

  She closed her eyes and lifted her face.

  Thank You for saving me, Father. Thank You. Let someone arrest Flagg so he doesn’t hurt anyone else. And protect those who are going after him.

  She heard Ian talking to someone. Probably Londyn again.

  Through the glass, she watched his shoulders sag, and he lowered his rifle. She waited for him to let her out of the car, but he ran a hand over his head, then took another of those breaths he’d taken earlier.

  He opened the door and offered her a hand. The man who’d only a moment ago looked so strong and confident now had a gaze filled with pain that she couldn’t explain. “Flagg’s in custody. Londyn will go to the precinct and process him. I’ll take you home, if that’s where you want to go.”

  She clasped his hand and came to her feet. She expected him to reach out for her, but he went to his trunk and placed his rifle inside. What was with this professional approach? Was that still what he wanted, even after what they’d just gone through? If he cared about her as she cared about him, he wouldn’t be able to remain so impassive, would he?

  She followed him, and the moment he secured the trunk, she slid her arms around his neck and drew his head down for a kiss.

  His lips went from cold and resistant to insistent and demanding in an instant. He crushed her body to his, his arms holding her firm. She reveled in his touch and slid her hands into his hair to hold him close.

  The kiss intensified.

  Oh, wow! She wished they were anywhere else but near this place that had almost become her grave.

  “Ah, Detective,” the construction worker said. “You still need me, or can I get going?”

  Ian lifted his head and looked dazed for a moment. “Do you have a card with your contact details, Vern?”

  “In the truck. Let me grab it.” Vern walked away.

  Ian put his focus back on her. “I guess we’d better hold off for a few more minutes.”

  She traced his rugged jaw with her finger.

  “Keep doing that, and I’ll make a spectacle of myself.” He laughed and caught her hand and kissed it.

  Ah, yes. That was more like it.

  Vern came back and shoved the card into Ian’s hand.

  “Thank you for your help,” Ian said, keeping his focus pinned to Malone.

  “Glad to do it.” Vern started to walk away, the gravel grinding under his boots, but then he stopped. “Guess this job is a total loss now.”

  “Looks like it,” Ian said.

  Shaking his head, Vern headed for his truck.

  When he was gone, Malone peered at Ian. “Speaking of holding off, I don’t care what issues either of us might have about starting a relationship. I know how I feel. I love you. So even if you want to argue, I—”

  He pressed his finger on her lips. “No argument from me. When this investigation is closed, I plan to pursue you with the same intensity.”

  “Well then, Detective Blair.” She slid her hands around his neck again. “Let’s get this new pursuit going as fast as you can.”

  Epilogue

  The midday sun beat down on Ian’s truck as he parked in front of Malone’s house. He checked his hair in the mirror, still wet from the shower. He was there to pick up Malone for Thanksgiving dinner at Peggy and Russ Byrd’s house.

  He pushed out of the truck and jogged up the sidewalk, moving past a big For Sale sign posted in the ground. Malone had delayed putting the house on the market while she looked for a new home, and it had just gone up for sale the day before. Her Realtor would hold an open house that weekend. He’d accompanied her to look at a bunch of houses in the past few weeks, until she found the perfect one. He loved that she wanted him to come along and offer his opinion. They’d even talked about a future where they could share the home she bought.

  His shower after being called in to investigate a homicide made him a few minutes late, so he hurried to the door.

  Malone was waiting at the door for him, holding out a casserole dish. “Can you take this? I’ll grab my purse.”

  “No.”

  She cast him a confused look, but he let his gaze rove over her black skinny jeans. She’d paired with crazy high heels and a black-and-gray plaid shirt topped with a tailored version of a leather motorcycle jacket. Her hair was down, tumbling over her shoulders in soft waves, and she was wearing a deep red lipstick.

  All of which he found insanely attractive.

  “Can you set the casserole down for a minute?” he asked, remaining on the front stoop.

  Her eyes narrowed. “Is something wrong?”

  “Not at all. It’s very right.”

  A puzzled look on her face, she placed the casserole on the hall table and turned to face him.

  He swept her into his arms. “You’ll need to replace that lipstick that’s driving me crazy. Maybe a different color even.”

  He lowered his head and kissed her, their lips melding together, and he couldn’t care less about the homicide he’d had to investigate that morning. About the fact that Beatrice was probably watching from across the street. About the rest of the world.

  All he wanted was now. This moment with Malone in his arms. He could deal with the rest later.

  He tightened his hold, careful not to seem too desperate. But he was desperate for her. He wanted her in his life. He was desperate for a normal life, whatever that might be. He didn’t know the future, so he was taking things one day at a time. That was all he could do.

  She pushed back and dragged in a deep breath. “I’m not complaining, but what was that all about?”

  “I had a tough morning, and I missed you.”

  “I missed you too.” She rubbed her finger over his lips, removing the lipstick he assumed, but all it did was make him want to kiss her more.

  She was decent. Honorable. Honest. A woman a man could get lost with forever, and he hoped he could be that man.

  He couldn’t commit to that yet. Not until they’d dated for some time, not until he judged his fitness for being her partner in life. If he passed, then yeah, he was going to ask her to marry him.

  “How about we get going,” she said, “and you tell me about your morning on the way? You can get it all out so it won’t trouble you at the Byrd’s house.”

  “Sure.” Not that the lingering disquiet from the scene he’d cataloged that morning would go away that fast. “But first, one more of these.”

  He swooped in for a kiss before she could react, but when she did, it wasn’t to push him away. She slid her fingers into the hair he’d just straightened in the mirror and messed it all up. He didn’t care. He loved her touch. The way it made him feel human and whole.

  He slowly let her go and looked deep into her eyes. “Okay. Now we can go.”

  She rubbed her thumb over his lip again. “This color doesn’t look so good on you.”

  “I’ll clean it off in the truck.” Before her touch urged him to kiss her again, he slid past her and grabbed the casserole dish. “What did you make?”

  “It’s called corn pudding. Sounds kind of odd but if you like cornbread, you’ll love it.”

  “If you made it, I will love it.”

  “Or, at least, you’ll say you do.” She giggled and closed the door.

  They walked through the cool autumn day toward his truck, a crisp feel to the temps, but the sun was warm, a welcome change when it more often than not rained on Thanksgiving in the Portland area. He opened the door for her, and after she buckled her seatbelt, he handed her the casserole dish.

  When he got behind the wheel, he used the mirror to look at his lips and laughed. “You’re right. Not my color.”

  She already had her purse open and lipstick out. “Then it’ll have to be lips off for the rest of the day.”

  He gave her a grin. “Maybe it doesn’t look so bad after all.”

  She laughed, and he loved the sound of it bouncing around his truck. Bouncing around his life. He could surely get used to hearing it every day. He started up his truck and backed out of the driveway. “You ready for the open house?”

  “I’ve already had a few showings. Lots of comments about how it needs remodeling, and it still makes me shiver when I hear that. And then there’s the whole part about a serial killer hiding his murder weapon in the wall while he was living here.”

  “I assume both of those things will devalue the home.”

  She nodded. “But taking a loss to move on, especially now that I know the history before I lived here as a kid, is worth it.” She swiveled to face him. “What’s the status on the other items Flagg hid in his houses? Have you finished the last place yet?”

  “He’s still not talking, and we’re having to use wall finders and take X-rays. It’s slow going, but we’re confident we’ll find what he hid there without having to tear into all the walls.”

  “It’s so odd that he did that. It’s like he wanted to get caught. Maybe it shouldn’t surprise me. I’d heard that was true of some serial killers.”

  “Not so.” He glanced at her, and she was twisting her hands together in her lap. “That’s a false notion. They simply relax a bit with each murder they get away with, get cocky, and make a mistake that allows us to catch them. He really played Russian Roulette with hiding those things. It was just a matter of time before the items were found in one of the houses. Once that happened, it would have been a matter of how well he kept his prints and DNA off the items.”

  “I know you’re not supposed to tell me, but have you found DNA or prints?”

  “All I can say is, we’ve built a very strong case against him for the murders of the six women and your parents.”

  She gave a solemn nod. “What about the women’s bodies? Have you found them?”

  He shook his head. “Kelsey at Veritas is using ground penetrating radar to search the properties, and she’s found three women so far.”

  She cringed, and he didn’t want her to keep thinking about the murders.

  “So tell me,” he said. “What can I expect at the Byrd’s place today?”

  “Chaos.” She chuckled, as he’d hoped she would, but the dark look lingered in her eyes.

  Just like the darkness lingered in Ian’s heart, but this woman washed it away when he was with her. She replaced it with goodness and warmth. “How many Byrds are there?”

  She tilted her head. “Well, the parents and six kids. Then each one has a spouse or significant other, so six more.”

  “Fourteen adults and how many kids?”

  “There’s Asher and Brendan’s adopted daughter, Karlie.” She held her hand out and ticked off on her fingers. “And, of course, the three children Peggy and Russ are fostering. So five kids.”

  “A grand total of nineteen. Twenty-one with us.” He shook his head. “Wow. Coming from a family of three, twenty-one is a lot to take.”

  She clutched his arm. “Maybe for some families, but the Byrds are all warm and welcoming, and I know they’ll open their arms for you too.”

  “Or spread their wings.” Ian laughed.

  Malone rolled her eyes.

  “No matter what happens, it’ll be better than the incident I was called in for this morning.”

  She released his arm and rested her hands on the sides of the casserole. “Families can be the hardest to deal with.” He knew she spoke from all of her experience with battered women and her time as a prosecutor.

  “Worse than everyday fights are when families get together for the holidays,” he added. “We get so many more calls on holidays. Which was the case this morning. The large family started arguing over politics, and one guy grabbed the turkey carving knife and stabbed the cousin, killing him.”

  “Oh, no, really?” She gaped at him. “That poor family.”

  “When I got there, two guys were still arguing about the same political issue, and I had to break up a fistfight on top of the homicide call.” He shook his head. “Political views and holidays don’t play well together.”

  “You won’t experience anything like that at the Byrds,” she said adamantly. “I promise.”

  He hoped she was right. Putting sixteen adults together who might get into a fight wasn’t his idea of a good time. But then, sitting home alone or working on a holiday wasn’t his idea of a good time either. Right now in his life, he didn’t know what was a good time, but he hoped Malone would show him what God intended for families to be like, because it certainly wasn’t like the family Ian had seen that morning. Of that, he was certain.