Chapter Eight
Rochelle turned up the A/C in the SUV to help stay awake on the thirty-minute drive home.
As it was, her eyes were trying to close.
Working to the point of exhaustion was a bad habit.
Except, how could she do anything else when time could mean the difference between saving someone’s life or them becoming a murder victim?
Kidnapping cases were the hardest to work on.
She lived on a tree-lined street in a cul-de-sac where bicycles littered lawns on school breaks. With this being Thanksgiving week, the kids would be out in full force.
As she pulled up to her two-bedroom bungalow, she cut off her headlights. The way houses were arranged in the cul-de-sac meant her headlights shot straight into the bay window of her next-door neighbor.
Exiting the vehicle, a cold chill caused her to clutch her shirt, tuck her chin to her chest, and hurry around the SUV. Movement to the left caught her attention. Squirrel?
Not at this time of night.
Rochelle was already halfway across her yard when she saw the boot. Someone was standing behind the tree in her neighbor’s yard. Her pulse skyrocketed as she reached for her service weapon in her shoulder holster.
Instinct had her wanting to bolt toward the door. Training had her moving toward the nearest tree for cover.
The crack of a bullet split the air. Rochelle ducked. Wood splintered.
Now, her pulse raced so loud she could hear thumping in her ears. Her heart battered the inside of her rib cage as she took cover behind the tree. The distance to her front door measured roughly fifteen feet.
Nothing would stand in the way of the shooter if she made a move for the door. Plus, she would have to manage unlocking the door, making herself an easy target in the process. Nope.
Rochelle identified herself as law enforcement and directed the shooter to toss their weapon, then come out with their hands where she could see them.
With the tree putting mass between her and the shooter, she risked a glance when no response came. A shot rang out.
Lights came on inside several of her neighbors’ houses.
A few images flashed in her mind. One had the shooter taking her neighbor or their kids hostage.
Let him get inside the house and then there’d be a hostage situation that could end with multiple fatalities.
Another had her neighbor taking matters into his own hands with a shotgun, and ending up shot in the process.
Dogs barked as panic seized her. Stay calm.
The shooter picked that moment to flee. He wasn’t much more than a shadow moving in the night.
“Halt, or I’ll shoot,” she demanded. But he was too far away and there were trees preventing her from getting off a dependable shot. There was no way she would risk a stray bullet.
So she gave chase.
Shadowman was a lot faster than her. Plus, he had a head start and longer legs.
He must be a good jumper too because he hopped fences like they were nothing.
Then again, he came prepared. It was easy to research a neighborhood with all the maps on phones and computers doing all the hard work.
As far as Rochelle’s needs were concerned, she knew the streets and that was about it.
She never ventured into her neighbors’ yards.
Garages weren’t as common in this area of Austin, so most folks parked out front.
After running for several minutes, she cut her losses. Shadowman was gone.
After holstering her weapon, Rochelle leaned against a tree to catch her breath and palmed her cell phone. Her first call was to her supervisor. The next, to Camden. He answered on the third ring with the sound of running water in the background. Shower?
Rochelle didn’t need the naked image of Camden stamping her thoughts right now. “Someone was waiting at my home.”
“What the hell?” The water turned off as a frustrated exhale came through the line. “Send me your address. I’m coming over.”
“That’s not nec—”
“Would you make the same offer if the shoe was on the other foot?” he asked.
“Yes,” she admitted.
“Text me your address, okay?”
“I will,” she said. Having company would be better than going home alone. After ending the call, she immediately sent a message with her address. And then, she made the slow walk back to her bungalow.
Neighbors were standing around in a loose circle, still in their pajamas, talking and processing. Several had rifles or shotguns. This area had a lot of hunters, so it wasn’t surprising they’d raided their gun cases to come out with a weapon to defend themselves.
“It’s okay to go inside now,” Rochelle said to the small group. “Whoever it was ran away.”
“Was someone trying to rob you?” Bobby Joseph asked. The perp had been hiding in his front yard.
“The person was armed,” she said. “A tall man. So if you see anyone suspicious hanging around, call nine-one-one immediately. Okay?”
“Will do,” Bobby said, still looking stunned and a little confused about what had just gone down. Join the club.
Not once in all her years of law enforcement had a perp ever tracked her to her home. Having someone shoot at you in your front yard was unnerving.
“And lock up tonight,” she urged as she stood in her yard, waiting for every last one of them to go inside and close their doors behind them.
When the lawns were cleared of all people, she scanned the area once more before heading to unlock her front door.
Nerves stopped her from going inside until she made certain no one was in there waiting.
Habit had her locking every door and window, so she tested the front to make sure it was still locked before moving to the back to do the same.
After walking a circle around her home and confirming no windows were broken, she slid the key into the lock and then opened the door.
One last glance to make sure no one had turned up in the last few minutes later, and she stepped inside, closed and locked the door behind her, and then leaned against the door. Back against it, she slid down until she sat on the wood floor.
Camden couldn’t get to Rochelle’s home fast enough. After safely navigating through late-night traffic, he arrived at the bungalow in her cul-de-sac. He cut the engine off and made a beeline to her front door, hitting the lock button halfway across the lawn.
Lifting a hand to knock, the door swung open.
“Hey,” a wide-eyed Rochelle said as she ushered him inside. “Don’t stand out there too long in case he’s watching.”
“Did you call it in?”
“Immediately,” she said. “I called my supervisor before I reached out to you.” Long lashes hooded the most incredible pair of eyes.
“Tell me everything that happened,” he said as she motioned toward the kitchen table.
He glanced around, looking for any signs of a male presence.
There were none. Her place had white couches with big throw pillows and glass tables with no prints.
There were no obvious signs, like hunting or fishing magazines piled on top of the tables.
There were no “couple” pictures that some folks liked to place around the room.
Camden wouldn’t be caught dead with those around his place.
He could remember what his significant other looked like without constant reminders everywhere.
He definitely didn’t need pictures of himself around.
No one needed to walk into his place and see mug shots of him everywhere. Or anywhere.
He listened as Rochelle broke down the events for him.
“What’s your initial thoughts on whether or not this is tied to our current case?” he asked when she was finished.
“That would be fast,” she said. “And why come after me?”
“To keep you from investigating,” he offered.
“Is that logical?”
He shook his head. “No. Not really. Someone might stop you from investigating but that leaves me to keep going with the work.”
“Do you think those shots were warnings?” she asked.
“I’m not sure,” he said, realizing they’d gotten as far as they were going to tonight. “Would you like to try to get some sleep?”
“I highly doubt I could,” she said.
“Even with me here?” he asked. “I’d stay awake.”
“A shot of adrenaline is still working through my system.” She exhaled a slow breath.
“And my mind is spinning. There’s no way I could fall asleep without images of—of that perp crashing into my thoughts.
” It would be unnerving to be targeted outside your house.
The perp was clear with his intentions. He was targeting Rochelle.
Her cell buzzed. She located it and then studied the screen. A few seconds later, she mouthed a swear word.
“What is it?”
“My supervisor just told me to take a couple of days off,” she said, disbelief written all over her features.
“Are you kidding me?” She immediately fired off a response.
And then her phone buzzed again. “He’s not taking no for an answer.
But I can’t back off this case. Especially after what just happened. ”
“It takes someone with a lot of bravado to come after a law-enforcement officer at home,” Camden pointed out.
“I was just thinking the same thing,” she said before smacking her flat palm on the glass table. It left a mark. “Which is exactly the reason I have to stay on this case. Plus, we don’t know for certain tonight’s incident is related.”
Camden cocked his head to one side. She put her hand up, palm out, in defense.
“Okay, maybe that’s a stretch,” she said. “However, I won’t be backed into a corner by anyone.”
“What did your supervisor say?” he asked.
“That I’ve been under strain lately and he thought it best if I take a short leave of absence,” she stated. “The underlying message here is that I lost my mother seven months ago and he doesn’t think I’ve given myself enough time to grieve.”
“Taking care of your mental health is especially important on this job,” he said. “Is there any merit to what your supervisor says?”
Rochelle didn’t immediately answer. Instead, she breathed in a slow breath like she wanted to take her time to think it over. “I don’t believe so, or I would have pulled myself off the job already. Does that mean I’m not shaken up by what happened tonight? No. But I would have been anyway.”
“The question is whether or not you think this will affect your job performance tomorrow,” he said.
“What do you think?”
“That you’re professional and capable,” he said without hesitation. “I think you’re one helluva detective and I’d work with you any day of the week.”
“Thank you,” she said. Her cheeks flushed at the compliments, which only proved to make her even more attractive. How it was possible to make the detective even more beautiful was beyond him.
“I mean it,” he continued. “I’ve worked with the best and I would trust you to have my back any day.”
“Same to you,” she countered. Then came a sharp sigh. “If you see anything that raises a red flag about my performance on this case, I’d be disappointed if you didn’t speak up.”
“Got it,” he said.
“And you’re good to continue working with me. Is that right?”
“Yes, I am.”
Rochelle picked up her cell and sent off another text. “I’ve just told my supervisor that I’m fine and don’t need time off. I said you would vouch for me if it came down to it but that I have a good handle on where I’m at emotionally. If it gets to be too much, I’ll take a back seat.”
“I’m here,” Camden reassured. “I’d like to stay together twenty-four-seven while we work the case. We’ll waste less time if we’re already together and it’ll be easier to talk through the investigation.”
“Done,” she said. “I have a second bedroom that I turned into an office when I bought the place. The sofa folds out into a bed if that’s okay with you.”
“Believe me, I’ve slept in worse places.”
Based on her expression, he should probably have explained that he meant he’d slept on the hard ground in not much more than a one-person tent. From the looks of it, she assumed he meant that he’d slept in shady beds.
“I didn’t mean—”
“You don’t owe me an explanation,” she said, cutting him off.
“I just thought…never mind.” He was probably reading too much into the situation. Even if he wasn’t, she was right to shut him down. They were coworkers on this investigation. A romantic involvement would be unprofessional.
“It’s fine,” she said. “I’ll just grab an extra pillow and some blankets for you. It’s supposed to get cold tonight.” She started to walk away and then turned back toward him. “Thanksgiving is later this week. Are you sure you want to be here instead of Mesa Point with your family?”
The right answer would be wishing he was in Mesa Point. But who did Rochelle have?