“The army’s involved?”

  “Right, you don’t know. I had to leave the Berets. Tore up my leg. If I stayed, I would’ve been riding a desk.”

  “I’m sorry, Jackson,” she said, and hearing her say his name drove another spike of pain into his chest. “I know how much you loved the Berets.”

  “I’m employed by Blackwell Tactical now.” He took out his business card and handed it to her. “We work private security details, do investigative work, and train law enforcement officers. It’s a great job. Maybe not quite as exciting as the Berets, but far better than any other civilian job I could have found.”

  “I’m glad.” A half smile tipped her lips, revealing a dimple on the left side that he’d often teased with his fingertip. “But again, what does Scott’s murder have to do with me?”

  “We discovered during out investigation that the university recorded your lecture hall for an attendance study.”

  “They did what?” She gaped at him.

  “They installed cameras in the front of five lecture halls to record video of the students in attendance. A computer program analyzed the images to assess the number of occupied seats.”

  “They never told us.” She sounded mad.

  “They didn’t want to bias the study.”

  “I can’t even begin to wrap my head around this. It’s such a violation of rights.”

  “Yes, and university officials are now being investigated for that.”

  “And this is somehow related to Scott’s murder?”

  Jackson nodded. “The cameras recorded during classes or when someone came in the room and the motion-sensor lights turned on. The recording stayed on until the lights went off.”

  She clutched a hand to her chest, grabbing onto her shirt and twisting the fabric. “Did one of them capture Scott’s murder?”

  He shook his head. “That happened out of view, but it did record the killer entering the room before the light was turned off.”

  “Then you know the killer’s identity.”

  “No. He wore a hoodie, and his head was down.”

  She tilted her head to the side and pursed her lip. “I don’t understand. How is this video of value then?”

  “The video caught you leaving the classroom. The killer opened the door at the same time and pushed past you. You said something to him, but he kept going, and you walked out. The murder happened shortly after that.”

  “I bumped into the killer? Really?” Her hand moved to cover her mouth for a moment before she dropped it to her knee. “Since I teach in this room, the police questioned me. Why didn’t they ask about that?”

  “Without these attendance videos, there was no reason to believe you may have seen the killer.”

  “Say what? The administration didn’t turn the videos over to the police?”

  “Right. Not that they were hiding them. They said for privacy reasons they’d all been destroyed after the study ended, but our tech person recovered copies.”

  She sat, staring ahead, and he could almost see thoughts traveling through her mind. “Sounds like you’re hoping I can remember this guy.”

  “We are, but now that word has gotten around campus about the study, we’re afraid the killer will realize you saw him and want to stop you from identifying him. Which is why I’m here. To protect you.”

  She sat quietly as if processing the news, then suddenly sat up higher. “The guy who just tried to strangle me said he wasn’t going away for murder. He has to be Scott’s killer.”

  Jackson didn’t like the sound of that, but it did confirm Maggie’s need for his protection. “Did you recognize his voice?”

  She shook her head. “No, but I talked to a guy before I got in the truck. I thought he looked familiar, so he could’ve been the one who attacked me. He said he owned one of the houses not destroyed in the fire, but maybe he was Scott’s killer, and he was trying to throw me off track.”

  “You talked to the killer?” Jackson’s voice echoed through the barren neighborhood. He tried not to sound so upset, but he couldn’t help it. She’d not only seen the killer face-to-face at the college but had likely just talked to him again.

  Maggie sat on the ambulance bumper and stowed her phone from updating Nate on the attack so he knew what to expect when he arrived. Speaking to Nate reinforced the truth of her night. She’d been attacked. Really, attacked. How could that have happened? Just the thought of it sent a chill over her skin, and her hands were still shaking. In less than five minutes, her life not only tilted on its axis but completely spun out of control. So many things left her head reeling, she hardly knew where to start. The terrifying attack. The attendance study. Scott’s death.

  But Jackson? Seeing him again after all these years?

  That was the hardest by far. She just couldn’t process it. Worse yet, she could hardly take her eyes off him. He stood talking to the responding deputy who’d already taken her statement. Feet planted wide, he wore khaki tactical pants that he always favored and a black knit shirt that stretched tight over his broad chest. He was a powerful man with wide shoulders and a trim waist, and he never failed to turn heads when they went out in public.

  He pivoted, and his grayish-blue eyes sought her out, locking on tight and not relenting. He had this way of looking at her as if nothing else existed. She always reveled in it, but right now it left her uncomfortable. She shouldn’t be feeling anything for him. Nothing, period. And yet, a simple look from him made her heart beat hard.

  She jerked her gaze away and focused on the strobing lights on the patrol car instead. He had this effect on her from the second they’d met. She was twenty-four at the time. He was in the army, and while on leave, he visited her college roommate’s brother. They ran into each other at a party, and she fell for him on the spot. He oozed strength and confidence, and yet he was both funny and tender. Combined with eyes that were intense and at the same time comforting, she could hardly look away from him. After a whirlwind courtship, they’d gotten engaged, and she foolishly slept with him and got pregnant.

  She was actually thrilled at the thought of having his child. She would’ve finished her master’s degree by the time the baby was born and could work on her PhD part-time. But Jackson didn’t have the same reaction. He didn’t want to be an absent father, which as a Green Beret would be unavoidable. His dad frequently traveled for business, and Jackson didn’t want to put a child through that, but he also wouldn’t even consider leaving the Berets.

  She wasn’t about to trap him in a marriage, so she gave him a pass. Told him to go back to his unit, and she would raise the baby alone. He took off, breaking her heart in the process. He returned on his next long leave, but by that time she was eight months pregnant, and the baby was just waiting to be born.

  The memory of that day came rushing back. Jackson’s eyes had gone soft the moment he saw her. He pressed his hand over her belly and told her he wanted to work things out with her. Wanted to be a father in any way he could. They went out to dinner to celebrate, but on the way to the restaurant, the discussion turned back to his future deployments and it got heated. They argued. She grabbed his arm. Accidentally jerked the steering wheel in the process, and the car crashed, injuring her and killing the baby.

  Their relationship couldn’t recover. The gut-wrenching pain didn’t allow that, and they split. Not a day went by that she didn’t think of their daughter, and as a result, thought of Jackson, too.

  She looked up to see him heading her way, his long-legged stride eating up the road when she wasn’t ready to talk to him yet. He stared ahead, his face an unreadable mask at this distance.

  Was he thinking of Alison, too? Did he think of her often and feel the same guilt? Beat himself up and wonder what God’s plan was in this tragedy?

  She wasn’t certain of many things anymore, but she was certain God made a mistake. A baby should never die.

  The thought put a lump in her throat, and she swallowed as she tried to stow her grief and panic from the attack before she started blubbering and let Jackson hold her again. She needed to think logically because logic said she should send this man packing and find someone else to help her out…although her heart said to get up and fall into his arms.

  Really, Maggie? What are you thinking? One look at the guy and you want to forget all the hurt, the pain, and tumble back into his arms? Seriously?

  She inhaled deeply and blew out her breath. Drew in another one and contemplated what she might say to him. He was expecting her to allow him to step in and serve as her bodyguard, but could she let that happen and still remain sane? Could she afford not to let him do it?

  On the recent update with Nate, she asked about assigning a deputy to be with her full time until this killer was caught, but he didn’t have the manpower for that kind of time commitment. So what choice did she have?

  Jackson stopped toe-to-toe with her and stared down at her in the wash of light coming from the streetlight. She didn’t like having him this close and especially not towering over her. She got up and put some distance between them. That earned her an arch of his eyebrow, but she felt better with a little breathing room.

  “Everything check out okay with the medics?” he asked.

  She nodded. “You really should have them look at your head, too.”

  “Nah, it’s just as empty as it’s always been.” He smiled, lighting up his eyes with a sparkle.

  Her heart instantly warmed, and it took all her self-control not to run back into his arms and kiss him. How was she going to spend time with him and not do something she would regret? Just how?

  She started to sigh but stopped herself before drawing further study.

  “Something wrong?” Concern tightened his jaw and nearly had her caving and begging him not to let her out of his sight.

  She forced her mind to still, her heart to calm. “No.”

  His response was a clipped nod, but that concern lingered. “The deputy cleared you to leave, and we should take off.”

  “Hold up. I didn’t agree to your proposition.”

  “Didn’t you?”

  “You know I didn’t.”

  “Look.” He stepped closer, and she had to fight the urge to back up. “I know it’s going to be hard to be together. It’ll bring up old wounds, but your life is in danger, and I’m not leaving you alone.”

  Hard to be together? That was an understatement if she ever heard one. Try impossible. “Can’t someone else on your team serve as my bodyguard?”

  “No!” His sharp tone drew the attention of the others. He glanced around and his hands curled into tight fists. “Sorry. I need to do this, Mags. Really need to. Maybe I’m trying to make up for not keeping the car on the road and losing Alison. Or maybe it’s because you’ll always mean a lot to me, but either way, please let me do this for you. Please.”

  She hated to see him beg, and yet, her heart was touched that watching over her was that important to him. Something she couldn’t dwell on or she would fall into those arms again.

  “Fine. I accept. But I won’t go into hiding. I’m needed here and will keep working. You’ll have to figure out how to make it safe for me to do so.”

  She expected him to argue, but he nodded. “I’ll get a few of my teammates to join us in the morning, and we’ll secure the area.”

  “Okay, but I’m not leaving just yet.” She gestured at a county SUV coming to a stop. “The sheriff is just arriving, and I need to meet with him.”

  “About the attack?”

  She started to shake her head but pain ripped across her throat, halting her movement. “Another body was located late this afternoon, and the skull has a bullet hole.”

  “Here?” He shot a quick look around.

  She nodded. “In a shed at the back of a property. I was in the truck getting the portable x-ray device when I was attacked.”

  “Man.” He ran a hand over his jaw darkened by a thick five-o’clock shadow. “That’s rough.”

  Another understatement.

  She caught sight of Nate stepping from his SUV and was eager to get back to the shed. “So you see why I have to stay?”

  Jackson didn’t look happy but nodded. “With the law enforcement presence here, it should be fine. Still, you’ve had a shock. Fatigue is going to set in soon. Promise me when it hits that you’ll agree to go.”

  “I know my limitations. If I get tired enough to make mistakes, I’ll take a break.” She turned her full attention to Nate.

  She couldn’t help but compare him to Jackson. Nate was around six feet tall, sandy blond hair shorn military-short, and his face was tanned from the summer sun. Jackson’s complexion was dark and swarthy, and his hair, though short, wasn’t as close-cut as Nate’s. Both men were muscular, but both men didn’t send her heart beating with a look. Only Jackson could do that.

  Nate joined them and rested his hand on his sidearm. “You okay, Doc?”

  She nodded. “Thanks to Jackson.”

  She introduced him as working for Blackwell Tactical, but didn’t mention that they’d once been engaged, and she definitely didn’t tell Nate she and Jackson were once expectant parents.

  “Blackwell, huh?” A look of respect crossed Nate’s face, and he extended his hand. “I took one of your courses. You’ve got a first-rate class.”

  Pride for Jackson’s skills blossomed in Maggie’s heart. Seriously, how could her heart keep betraying her like this? Maybe it was the attack and tiredness. She was sure she would do a better job in the morning. She had to.

  “Thought you looked familiar.” Jackson released Nate’s hand.

  “Mind telling me why you were here tonight?” Nate asked.

  Jackson explained about Scott’s death. “After the attack tonight, it’s looking like our theory is correct.”

  “Sounds like a good possibility.” Nate frowned.

  Maggie brought him up to speed on the man she talked to, a subconscious shiver rushing through her body as she called up her memory. “Your deputy checked out the house the man said he owned. He wasn’t there, and I didn’t see him leave the subdivision.”

  Nate’s frown deepened. “You think this guy’s your attacker?”

  “I don’t know. At the time, I believed his story about being the homeowner.”

  Nate nodded. “While we wait for the ME, I’ll run the address through property records and bring up a driver’s license for the owner.”

  “It’s the blue house just down the road on the left.”

  “I’ll be right back.” He started down the street.

  Jackson turned to her. “I should ask. Is there anyone else in your life who might want you dead?”

  “You’re joking, right?” She laughed.

  He frowned. “Wish I was.”

  She couldn’t believe Jackson was standing there, much less asking her who might want to kill her. “This is just crazy. I can’t think of anyone who would want me dead. Well, maybe a failing student, but only in a manner of speaking.”

  “I think it was Scott’s killer who attacked you, but we still have to perform our due diligence. I doubt it’s a student, but with your part-time forensic anthropology work, you could’ve consulted on a case where someone might be out to get you.”

  “I suppose that’s possible.” She let the thought settle in.

  He could be right and that might be the key. She would review her work files when she got to her house. The sooner they found Scott’s killer, the sooner Jackson would go back home, and she wouldn’t have to think about the past, including how much she once loved him.

  3

  Jackson gave his full attention to the crime scene analysis going on in front of him. He’d never participated in processing a crime scene, and he soaked up every detail. He never knew when it might come in handy in the future.

  A photographer had showed up on the scene thirty minutes ago and immediately started snapping shots of the remains. The camera’s click echoed through the still night, and the flash lit up the area like the flare from an explosion. Then the ME, Dr. Charlotte Owing, arrived. She was tall and thin with short spiky blond hair and wrinkles between her eyebrows that narrowed when she frowned. With the depth of the grooves, Jackson suspected she frowned a good bit of the time.

  She squatted next to the victim and moved clockwise around him in a duck walk, evaluating the remains from all angles. She didn’t speak but uttered a few hmms.

  Holding his phone, Nate picked his way through the ruins and stepped right up to Maggie. He held out his phone. “I got the photo for the owner of the blue house. Doesn’t look to me like the guy you described, but…”

  Maggie took one look at it and shook her head. “Definitely not him. Among many differences, this guy’s smile is perfect. The guy I talked to had crooked teeth.”

  “So the jerk lied to you,” Jackson said, though it went without saying. “And he could very well be your attacker.”

  Nate nodded, but his focus remained on Maggie. “Did you get a clear enough look at him to meet with a sketch artist?”

  “I did.”

  “Good,” Nate said.

  Jackson didn’t agree. Okay, maybe it was good for the investigation to find the guy, but Maggie close enough to a killer to be able to describe him for a sketch? Jackson hated that. Still, he wouldn’t say anything, as it served no point.

  “I can make an appointment for an artist to meet with you first thing in the morning,” Nate continued. “He could come out to your house. Would that be okay?”

  Maggie nodded. “I can do it before my work here.”

  Dr. Owing stood and towered over the victim, but her gaze went to Maggie. “He’s all yours if you want another look before we move him to the morgue.”

  “Thank you.” Maggie stepped closer. “He displays the general burn pattern that you would expect to find for a person lying face up.”

  “That’s good information to have,” Dr. Owing said.

  Maggie squatted by the body, and with gloved hands, gently turned the skull. Something moved inside. She looked up at Dr. Owing. “With no exit wound, that’s likely the bullet moving in the skull.”