Page 37 of Her Baby, Her Badge

“Not a fire,” Ike finally managed to say, and even though the ropes were still on his hands, he tried to latch on to Dutton to pull him to the ground.

Obviously, Ike was trying to tell him about some kind of threat, but Dutton didn’t know what. Until his father said one word that made it all clear.

“Bomb.”

And just then, the storage building exploded.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Grace sat on the examining table in the ER and waited for the nurse to finish stitching up the cut she’d gotten on her arm. A cut from a sliver of wood that had shot through the air when the building exploded. In the grand scheme of things, it was a very minor injury and could have been worse.

A whole lot worse.

If the blast had happened just seconds earlier, when Dutton, Ike, Rory and the hands had still been in the building, they likely would have been killed. She could have possibly been, too, since she’d been standing right by the door. It was somewhat of a miracle they’d all survived.

Of course, Dutton and she had been plenty worried about the effects the blast might have had on their baby so they’d skipped waiting for a second ambulance, and instead Dutton had driven her in the cruiser to the ER.

Thankfully, no one inside the house, including Jamie, had been hurt in any way and now the girl and the house staff were safely tucked away at the police station, where they were giving Livvy and Eden their statements about the incident.

Grace looked at Dutton, who was getting his own stitches on his forehead. He was in the chair next to her, not an ideal place for the nurse who was doing his stitching, but he’d refused to leave the room. She was actually thankful for that, but notbecause she wanted his protection. She didn’t want him out of her sight.

Ike had been the one assaulted and put in that building with a bomb, but she was certain this had all been planned to draw Dutton, and probably her, too, inside so they could be blown to bits. That wasn’t the MO the killer had used for the other two murders. However, he or she had maybe been willing to stray from the MO just to accomplish the task of killing them.

Her phone buzzed again, and she tried to read the text that Rory had just sent her. Hard to do that with the nurse right in her face. Still, she saw the message and relayed it to Dutton.

“Your father has two cracked ribs and a concussion. They’re taking him down for more tests now.”

Grace hoped those tests didn’t reveal any more serious internal injuries, and while she was hoping, she added that maybe Ike would remember something that would help them figure out who was responsible for what happened. She hadn’t been able to question him yet, and so far, all Ike had said was that his attacker had been wearing a ski mask. Grace figured that once he was thinking clearer, he might be able to recall some critical details.

Dutton’s own phone dinged twice, and as Grace had done, he relayed the text to her. “All the hands have been treated and released. No one other than Ike required an ambulance. The other text is from Rory and a repeat of what he told you.”

So Rory was keeping them in the loop. Good. Because at that moment it felt as if she and Dutton were trapped here in this ER room. First, she’d had an ultrasound, to confirm the baby was alright. Then, they’d both been examined to determine how much smoke they’d inhaled. Even a small amount was worrisome, since anything that affected her also affected the baby.

“Alright,” the nurse working on her said. “Finished for now. Just wait here for the doctor to come back in and go over any test results.”

More waiting, but Grace knew there was nothing she could do to hurry things along. Besides, she could still work while she was here. She could continue to get updates not only on the injuries, but also from the CSIs, who were now at the McClennan ranch, pouring over what was their new crime scene.

Grace sent off some texts to both Austin and San Antonio police departments to ask them about the statement from Brian’s lover, Felicity, and the search of Brian’s house. Both could be crucial reports since they could add to the circumstantial case against Brian.

Since that case wasn’t anywhere near solid enough, she’d been forced to allow him to leave the police station after his lawyer had filed a complaint about being held for so long. She hadn’t wanted anything like a legitimate complaint to allow Brian to wiggle out of any charges that might eventually be filed against him.

The nurse with Dutton finished his stitches, repeated a similar comment about staying put until they see the doctor, and she headed out of the room. Grace looked at Dutton then, at the fresh bandage on his forehead, and she felt the emotions flood through her. He was safe. The three of them were all safe.

For now.

Dutton stood and went to her, and he might have pulled her into his arms if there hadn’t been a tap at the door.

“It’s me,” Rory said, and he opened it to peer inside at them. No stitches for him, but he had several bruises on his jaw, where a board had smacked into him.

One look at his face, and Grace knew something was wrong. “What happened?” she asked at the exact moment she got a text.A text from the doctor who’d been attending the unconscious woman, Georgia Tate.

“Georgia died,” Grace muttered, and Rory confirmed that with a weary nod. She finished reading the text from the doctor. “She didn’t regain consciousness before she passed away.”

Which meant she was taking to the grave any details she might have known about her killer.

“Three women,” Dutton said, and then he groaned and cursed. He scrubbed his hand over his face and then cursed again when his fingers raked across the fresh bandage.

Even though Dutton hadn’t known Georgia, she totally understood his reaction. It wasn’t just the loss of life. Or the loss of potential critical information. It was the fact that the killer had murdered three women…and for what? For revenge? A warped vigilante justice to right old wrongs that could never be made right?

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