Page 3 of Ranger Belief
“Hey!” Denise waved a hand in front of her face as she collapsed into the booth next to Jonah. “I haven’t danced this much in ages.” She picked up her half-drunk beer from the table and took a long sip before smiling broadly at him. “It’s nice of you to guard our drinks, but I feel bad leaving you here alone.”
“I don’t mind.” It was better to sit at the table than embarrass himself on the dance floor. God had given him many talents, but Jonah had been absent the day He’d handed out rhythm.
Denise set her beer back down on the table. “Ryan mentioned you’re in law enforcement.”
She had to shout to be heard over the loud music. Jonah nodded in reply. Yelling his job title in a crowded bar was reckless, and getting closer to Denise felt awkward.
She tilted her head coltishly. “I can see it. You’ve got that dark and brooding look about you.” Denise scooted closer and placed a hand on his arm. “I’m sure the job is stressful. All the more reason to kick back and have some fun when you’re off duty. Come on, just one dance?”
An internal war raged within Jonah. He should tell her yes. Denise was gorgeous and fun-loving, a third-grade teacher living in Amarillo with a pet cat named Boots. She was exactly the kind of woman he should be pursuing. Except there was one small problem. The spark was missing. In his younger years, he might’ve forced himself to give it a chance, see where thingswent. Now, he was old enough to recognize that he just wasn’t interested.
He needed to come up with a gentle excuse for bowing out of her request. And fast. His mind went blank—why was declining a dance so much harder than interrogating suspects?
Jonah’s cell phone vibrated, Laney’s name lighting up the screen. Relief washed through him as he scooped up the phone. “Sorry, Denise. I have to take this.” He slid from the booth and hit answer, hurrying across the bar in search of a quiet spot. “Laney, you’re gonna owe me big time for bailing on this event, just so you know.” He ducked into the hall leading to the bathroom, and the noise dropped by several decibels. “Do you hear the music? It’s enough to give anyone?—”
“Jonah.” Her voice was a rasp, raw and painful-sounding.
He stiffened. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” A pause. “Mostly. I need you to come to the park to help with an investigation. A murder case.” Her voice was rough and yet somehow also strangely hollow, with an underlying tremor that made his blood run cold. The only time Jonah had ever heard Laney like that was when her mother passed away. “It’s…complicated. I’ll explain everything when you get here. Campsite 8.”
It was highly unusual for the park rangers to ask for assistance on a murder case from the Texas Rangers. Normally, the sheriff’s department would step in. Whatever had happened was bad. Her voice told him she was barely holding it together. He calculated how long it would take him to drive to Piney Woods with his lights and sirens on. His truck was unmarked, but equipped with all the official equipment necessary for a law enforcement officer.
Heat and humidity smacked him in the face as he exited the honky-tonk. “I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”
“Don’t drive recklessly. The scene isn’t going anywhere.”
It was just like Laney to be in the middle of a crisis, but still worry about him. Jonah scowled as he hopped into his truck and fired up the engine. “You’re not the boss of me, Torres. I’ll drive as fast as I want to.”
The response got him the chuckle he’d hoped for, and some of the knots twisting his insides loosened. He wanted to ask if Laney was okay, but that was a silly question. She obviously wasn’t. So he’d get to her as fast as he could. “See you soon.”
His heart clenched when she said goodbye. Jonah switched on his lights and siren before speeding out of the parking lot toward the highway.
His best friend needed him.
And he couldn’t get to her fast enough.
THREE
Jonah made it to Piney Woods State Park in twenty-eight minutes. It took another ten to navigate the narrow two-lane road to Campsite 8. The sheer number of law enforcement vehicles in the area deepened his worry. He took in the crime scene tape, the clump of deputies gathered around another patrol car, and a set of paramedics loading a stretcher into the back of a bus.
No sign of Laney.
The park ranger manning the main entrance had radioed his arrival, so she knew Jonah was on site. He tucked his truck behind a patrol car, killed the engine, and unlocked the safe hidden under the passenger seat before removing his holstered weapon and ranger badge. It took precious seconds to don them, along with his sports coat and cowboy hat, but it was necessary to do so. Part of his job as a Texas Ranger was presenting a professional appearance even if every nerve in his body urged him to find Laney ASAP.
His boots tamped down the grass as he exited his vehicle. Jonah headed for a nearby deputy to ask about Laney when she appeared on a small footpath, Scout at her side. Hisheart skipped several beats as he took in her mussed uniform and carefully controlled expression. Without hesitation, Jonah ducked under the crime scene tape, intent on closing the distance between them, when a rough hand clamped down on his arm.
“Sir, you need to get behind the yellow line.” The deputy’s tone brooked no argument. His scowl was fierce, and his grip firm.
“Texas Ranger Jonah Foster.” He shifted his sports coat to reveal the badge pinned to his chest. “Stand down, deputy. I’ve been called in to assist on this investigation.”
The deputy’s gaze flickered to Jonah’s badge, but his expression didn’t lose an ounce of suspicion, nor did he release him. “By whom?”
“He’s with me, Harry.” Laney’s voice came from behind Jonah, and the roughness in it tightened his muscles. He shook off the deputy’s restricting grip and turned to face her.
His breath stalled. Dirt and grass stained her rumpled uniform, and her normally neat hair was mussed and twisted into a bun. A pine needle was still tangled in the strands. Her messy appearance and stoic countenance would have been enough to raise concern, but it was the bruises around her neck that hit him like a physical blow. Dark fingermarks that made his stomach clench with fury.
Someone had tried to strangle her.
