“No—” Rory began, but then he stopped. “Livvy’s the target?”
“Possibly. Is anyone else responding?”
“Judson and Bennie,” he said, referring to Deputies Judson Docherty and Bennie Whitt.
Grace’s next breath was one of relief. Until she considered something else. “Call Eden and make sure she’s okay.”
Rory cursed, and the alarm deepened in his voice. With good reason. Deputy Eden Gallagher was Rory’s ex, and she was also the mother of his son. And Eden could be the target, not Livvy or her. The best way to torture and punish Grace would be to go after one of her people.
Grace ended the call with Rory so he could contact Eden, and while she waited, she looked at Dutton. His eyes were red and his skin was flushed, but he seemed to be able to focus. He also had his gun drawn and was keeping watch of the door. Grace picked up her gun and did the same while she also checked on the woman.
Still alive, but there was a lot of blood on her dress.
“Sheriff Granger?” someone called out. It was Judson, which meant Bennie was close behind.
“Here,” she answered.
She heard both the deputies coughing, no doubt reacting to the still lingering pepper spray, and a moment later there was a knock at the bathroom door. Dutton opened it, slowly and cautiously. Maybe because he thought there was a possibility the killer had taken the deputies hostage.
Thankfully, that hadn’t happened, and the moment Dutton had the door fully open, she saw Judson do a sweeping glance around the bathroom while Bennie kept watch behind him.
“Are you all okay?” Judson asked.
No. Grace was far from okay, but she nodded, anyway. She wasn’t injured, but there was still the fear of the effects this was having on the baby. The fear, too, that this attack wasn’t over.
“The ambulance just arrived,” Judson explained. “I’ll get the EMTs in here.” He fired off a quick text to do that, and then he looked at Grace. It was the kind of look that told her something else was wrong.
“What is it?” she asked. “What happened?” And she forced herself to tamp down the worst-case scenarios flying through her head.
“There’s a note on the front door,” Judson explained, and then he paused. “I think it’s written in blood.”
CHAPTER SIX
Look how easy it is to get to you, Grace. This was a trial run. Next time, it’ll be the real thing.
Dutton had an image of the note fixed in his head. The note that had been taped to the front door, right here at Grace’s house. And Judson had indeed been right.
It’d been written in blood.
Whose blood was still to be determined, but it’d been sent to the lab for analysis. Dutton assumed it belonged to the injured woman who had collapsed on Grace’s porch. A woman who, the last he heard, was clinging to life.
All of that—the pepper-spray attack, the injured woman, the threatening note, the other two dead cops—hadn’t allowed him to get much sleep. Then again, he hadn’t expected to get much sleep, anyway.
Not since he was staying under the same roof with Grace.
They weren’t at her house, though, since it would need to be processed as a crime scene as well as have the window replaced. That’s why they had ended up at Rory’s house with Grace and Dutton in guestrooms directly across from each other. And sharing a bathroom. His body hadn’t let him forget that.
At least the pepper spray hadn’t harmed the baby. Grace and he knew that because she’d gone to the hospital shortly after the attack and had a checkup along with an ultrasound. All was well with their child. In the grand scheme of things, that was a toppriority, and now Dutton had to figure out how to keep them safe when Grace was trying to do the same to him.
He checked the time—almost seven, which meant he’d been taking catnaps on and off for the past four hours. Maybe Grace was faring better across the hall, and that’s why Dutton stayed as quiet as possible when he made his way to the bathroom. He took a quick shower and changed into the clean clothes that he’d had one of his ranch hands bring over shortly after they’d arrived at Rory’s. Dutton was still zipping up his jeans as he came out of the bathroom.
And ran right into Grace.
Thankfully, not a hard slam, but there was body-to-body contact. Contact he was even more aware of since he hadn’t buttoned his shirt. She’d put up her hand on impact, and it landed against his bare chest.
“Sorry,” she said and stepped back as if he’d scalded her.
Dutton instantly felt the loss of the contact. Probably because he’d instantly felt it in every inch of his body. Not good. He didn’t need this physical ache for her playing into, well, anything. Still, the ache came, anyway. So did the worry. Along with still managing to look amazing, the fatigue was there in her eyes.