CHAPTER NINETEEN
Victor Schmidt’s house looked wrong in daylight.
Selena parked at the curb and let the engine idle for a moment.
The crime scene tape had been removed from the front entrance, but the house still seemed marked.
Curtains drawn. Yard trimmed too neatly.
A child’s bicycle leaned against the side of the porch; its front wheel turned toward the street as if the child who owned it had dropped it and run inside for dinner.
No children were here now.
Marlene had returned without them.
Selena switched off the engine, took the radio from the passenger seat, and clipped it to her belt.
Her head was clear, but irritation had been moving under her skin since Connor refused to come.
The fact that he had done it because of Marlene, because he could not bear to look at her as a suspect, only made it worse.
The front path led past two flower beds filled with marigolds and dry mulch. A wind chime hung near the porch and gave a weak metallic sound as Selena climbed the steps.
She knocked.
No answer.
Selena knocked again, harder. “Marlene?”
A shape moved behind the frosted glass. The door stayed closed.
A woman’s voice came from the other side. “Who’s there?”
“It’s Selena Raven from the FBI. I was hoping to speak with you, Marlene.”
“I’m too upset right now, Agent Raven.”
“I understand, but...”
“No, you don’t.” Marlene sounded close to the door, but the voice was thin and strained. “I don’t want to talk. Not today.”
Selena kept one hand loose at her side. “Where are your kids?”
“With my mom in Lexington.”
“Good. Then this is a good time for us to speak privately.”
“I said I don’t want to be disturbed.”
“Marlene, we know you came back to town the night your husband died. You told us you were at your mother’s. That wasn’t true.”
Silence pressed against the door.
Selena waited.
When Marlene answered, her voice had changed. Smaller now. Frightened. “Oh.”
“We need to talk about it.”
“I can explain.”
“Then open the door.”
“Please, give me a second.”
“All right.”
Selena stepped back half a pace and looked at the front window. No movement behind the curtains. No sound from inside beyond something faint, perhaps a drawer or a footstep.
Seconds passed.
“Marlene?”
No reply.
Selena moved closer to the door. “Marlene, open the door.”
Nothing.
Her hand went to the knob just as Marlene called from farther inside. “The door’s open.”
Selena did not like that.
The knob turned under her hand. The door eased inward. Cool air drifted out from the hall, carrying furniture polish, old food, and the stale closed-house scent of rooms that had held grief for too many hours.
“Marlene?”
No reply came. Selena could feel it in the atmosphere. The silence inside had grown denser. Selena keyed the radio. “Raven at the Schmidt house. Marlene may be attempting to flee. I’m going in.”
She drew her gun and hoped that Marlene would not do anything to make her have to use it.
Selena stepped inside. The hallway opened toward the living room on the left. A family photograph hung on the wall, Victor and Marlene with three children between them, all five smiling in matching blue shirts.
The living room was beyond the corner.
Selena took one step into the opening.
A hard blow struck the side of her head.
Light burst across her vision. Her knees gave way. The floor came up fast, carpet scraping one cheek as she hit and rolled against the base of the couch.
For a second, the sound went distant. A door banged somewhere. Footsteps thudded away.
Selena blinked, trying to make the room stop tilting.
Her hand found the grip of her gun before her sight had fully cleared. Training carried her where thought lagged behind. She drew, pushed herself onto one knee, then forced herself upright.
Pain opened across the back of her skull in a hot, sickening pulse.
“Marlene!”
No answer.
Selena grabbed the radio from her belt with her free hand. “Connor. Marlene attacked me at the Schmidt house.”
Static cracked. Then Connor’s voice came through, sharp and immediate. “My God. I’m already en route. Are you okay?”
Selena touched the back of her head. Her fingers came away wet with blood.
“I’m conscious. She’s running.”
“Stay put. I’m close.”
“Not happening.”
“Selena.”
She clipped the radio back to her belt and moved through the living room with the gun raised.
A lamp lay on the carpet near the couch, shade bent, base heavy enough to do the damage. The back door stood open. A chair had been knocked sideways in the kitchen. Beyond the sink, a window over the counter gaped outward, curtain shifting in the breeze.
“Marlene, stop!” Selena shouted.
No reply.
She crossed the kitchen, checked the back door, then looked through the open window. A narrow yard stretched toward a wooden fence. Beyond it, woodland crowded the property line.
Marlene was halfway over the fence.
Dark hair loose. Gray sweater snagged on the top board. One shoe was lost in the grass.
Selena ran for the back door and out into the yard. “Stop, Marlene! Get on the ground!”
Marlene looked back once, face white with terror, then dropped over the other side.
Selena reached the fence and climbed. The movement sent pain flashing through her head. She almost lost her grip on the top rail, caught herself, then swung one leg over and dropped into the rough grass beyond.
Branches cracked ahead.
The woods behind Victor’s house were narrow at first, then deepened where the land sloped toward a creek bed. Marlene moved badly but fast, crashing through brush, panic making her careless. Selena kept after her, gun low but ready, breath coming hard through her teeth.
“Marlene, stop!”
The woman did not stop.
Selena pushed through saplings and thorny weeds. Leaves slapped at her face. The ground pitched beneath her, roots twisting underfoot. Another pulse of dizziness hit, and she caught a tree trunk with her shoulder, biting back a curse.
Footsteps sounded to her right.
Not Marlene’s. Heavier. Coming fast.
Selena spun, gun coming up.
“Selena!” Connor shouted.
He broke through the trees with both hands raised enough for her to see them. His face changed when he saw the gun and the blood on her hairline.
She lowered the weapon, breathing hard.
“Where is she?” he asked.
“That way.” Selena pointed, then swayed despite herself.
Connor caught her by the arm. “You’re bleeding.”
“She went through here.”
“You’re bleeding, Selena.”
“I can still walk.”
His grip tightened. “We’ve got deputies setting a perimeter. Arnold’s coming from the east road. You’re coming with me.”
“I had her.”
“No, you had a head wound and a gun in your hand.” Connor’s voice shook at the edges. “I’m sorry I didn’t come with you.”
The apology found her through the pain. She looked past him into the trees where Marlene had vanished.
“I need to keep moving.”
“You need a doctor. Besides, there’s no point chasing shadows in these woods. Marlene knows them better than most.”
Selena tried to pull her arm free, then stopped when the world gave a slow lurch. Connor saw it.
“Don’t argue,” he said.
“I’m going to argue.”
“Do it in the car. I’ll radio Arnold to get some deputies out here, start looking for her.”
He helped her back through the trees, one hand steady at her elbow. Pride wanted her to tell him to let go. Her legs argued otherwise.
By the time they reached the yard, two deputies had arrived at the front of the house.
Connor shouted orders, voice clipped and clear.
One to the road behind the property. One to cover the creek path.
Marlene Schmidt’s name went out over the radio, along with a description and warning that she had assaulted a federal agent.
Selena sat in the passenger seat of Connor’s SUV, pressing a folded cloth to the back of her head while he drove.
“You could’ve told me you were nearby,” she said.
“I was on my way before you radioed.”
“Why?”
Connor kept his eyes on the road. “Because I changed my mind.”
“Thanks.”
“I knew I was being an ass.”
She let that stand.
The old house where Connor stopped looked as if it had once belonged to a family with money and no desire to keep up appearances. White paint peeled around the porch posts. Tall weeds pressed against the foundation. A brass plaque by the front door read DR. A. BLETHAN in black letters.
Selena stared at it as Connor came around to help her out. “This is Blethan’s office?”
“Private clinic. Coroner’s office is behind the county building. He likes to make everything complicated.”
“I noticed.”
Connor knocked once and opened the door without waiting.
Inside, the waiting room held mismatched chairs, a reception desk with no receptionist, and shelves of old magazines. A ceiling fan turned lazily overhead.
A door at the back opened.
Doctor Alistair Blethan appeared in shirtsleeves and a waistcoat, his beard trimmed shorter than Selena remembered, but he was still as wide-shouldered and wild-looking. He took one look at the cloth pressed to her head.
“Agent Raven,” he said. “You’ve looked better.”
“I’ve felt better.”
Connor said, “She took a blow to the head.”
“Aye, I heard over the radio.” Blethan pointed down the hall. “Exam room.”
Selena followed him into a small room with green walls, a metal examination couch, and a cabinet full of supplies. Connor stood near the door while Blethan washed his hands and pulled on gloves.
Selena climbed onto the edge of the couch. “Wait. You’re the coroner, a forensics worker, and a local doctor?”
Blethan took the cloth from her head. “I’m a busy man.”
“That’s one way of putting it. Another is that Harlan County isn’t very busy… Usually...”
“It’s a county with more needs than staff. I apologize for not having been around lately. I seemed to have picked up a nasty respiratory virus, and this damned knee is playing up as well. But I’m feeling better today. Hold still.”
He parted her hair with careful fingers. The sting made her inhale sharply, but his touch was lighter than his manner suggested.
“Small laceration,” Blethan said. “Messy bleeder, but not deep. What hit you?”
“A lamp.”
“Who’d have thought a simple lamp could undo the great FBI, eh?”
Blethan cleaned the wound. Selena watched Connor from the corner of her eye. The sheriff looked as if he had aged overnight. Hat in his hands. Shoulders tight. Guilt sat on him openly now.
Blethan shone a small light into Selena’s eyes. “Follow my finger.”
She did.
“Any vomiting?”
“No.”
“Double vision?”
“No.”
“Do you know where you are?”
“Unfortunately.”
“Sharp tongue intact. Good sign.”
Blethan stepped back. “I see no obvious sign of a serious concussion for now. That doesn’t mean you ignore symptoms. Headache worsening, confusion, nausea, vision trouble, you get checked again. Understood?”
“Yes.”
“I mean it.”
“I said yes.”
He applied a small dressing and peeled off the gloves. “I heard you’ve put a search out for Marlene Schmidt.”
Connor nodded. “That’s right.”
Blethan opened a drawer and took out a packet of painkillers. “Can’t see her as the murdering type.”
“Look what she did to Selena,” Connor said.
Blethan handed Selena the packet. “The last time we spoke, during the Pruitt case, I can’t say I didn’t feel like doing the same.”
Selena took the painkillers. “The feeling’s mutual.”
For a second, Blethan stared at her. Then one corner of his mouth moved toward a smile. He looked at Connor and gave him a wink.
“She has spirit, I’ll give the lass that.”
“I’m right here,” Selena said.
“Aye, and still talking. That’s my point.” Blethan moved to the sink. “If you need me for anything else, you know where I am.”
“Thank you,” Selena said.
“Try not to get hit with any more furniture.”
“I’ll make a note.”
Blethan left them alone in the exam room.
Connor waited until his footsteps faded. “I can give you a lift back to the motel to rest.”
“No. We’ve got work to do.”
“I figured.”
“I want to help with the search for Marlene,” Selena said.
“I’d argue, but I know how stubborn you are.”
Connor stepped closer. For a moment, he looked like he might say something professional. Instead, he lifted one hand and cupped her cheek with a tenderness that caught her unprepared.
“I’m just glad you’re okay,” he said. “I should’ve had your back.”
Selena felt the warmth of his palm and the pull of memory with such force that she forgot, for half a second, to move.
Then she placed her fingers around his wrist and guided his hand away.
“It’s okay.”
“It isn’t.”
Connor looked at their hands, then let his fall.
Selena slid off the couch, slower than she wanted. “Do you have any idea where she might go?”
His face hardened, and the sheriff returned.
“No,” Connor said. “But I won’t rest until we catch her.”
Selena picked up her jacket from the chair and checked that her gun was still secure.
Connor opened the exam room door.
“For Victor,” he said.