Kim screamed, throwing her hands up over her face as the poker came crashing down toward her. With desperation, she kicked out and knocked her attacker’s feet out from under her.
She hit the floor with a crash and Kim scuttled backward on her hands and feet, grabbing hold of the coffee table and shoving herself up. Had to run…had to get out, get away…
The pain in her ribs and in her chest was ungodly. Breathing was torture.
“Damn it, you bitch.” The words were rough, ugly with hatred. And getting closer.
Kim grabbed the door to the balcony and jerked it open, stumbling through and slamming it on the arm that came through behind her. A furious howl lit the air and she could have sobbed with relief as a voice from above called out, “Damn it, what’s going on down there? Kim? Is that you?”
“Going to fucking beat the shit out of you, bitch.”
She flinched away from that voice, backing away as the door slid open. The poker raised and she screamed.
“Damn it, what the fuck? I’m calling the cops, damn it…”
Lights glared in the front of the apartment parking lot. Kim turned her head, time slowing down to a crawl as she saw the familiar car pass under the lights, then the door flew open…the blue of the swimming pool just below her…
Turning, she blinked, waiting for the poker to fall one more time. But her attacker had frozen, eyes locked on the car pulling into the lot. With a whispered prayer, Kim gripped the railing and swung one leg over. As she moved the other, those malevolent eyes swung her way.
Taking a deep breath, she leaped just as the poker started to come swinging down.
The cold water closed over her and then oblivion.
Kellan nodded as Grady finished reading off the witness reports.
Somebody wearing black. A hood.
But nobody had seen the attacker’s face. Nobody could tell if it was a woman, a man, or a seven-foot Martian with green skin. Pressing his fingers to his eyes, he tried to tune out the antiseptic smell of the hospital, tried to forget about the blood on his hands.
Pulling that broken, battered body from the swimming pool had filled him with shame and anger.
He had gone there planning to question Kim, but he had all but laughed at himself halfway there. Too weak. Too timid. Too stupid.
And her plunge off the balcony had probably saved her life. While he’d pulled her still body out of the pool, the assailant had gotten away. Only moments later, deputies had arrived on the scene in response to the calls from several of Kim’s neighbors, but their search hadn’t turned up anything.
“Damn it, what in the hell is going on?” he muttered.
The waiting room doors swung open and the doctor stepped out, her face weary but satisfied. “She’s going to be fine, I think… I was worried about head trauma or possible spinal injury, jumping into six feet of water, but God was smiling on her,” Dr. Winter said. “The MRI looks okay.”
Her blue scrubs had blood smeared on them and her shoulders were slumped with weariness. “She’s got some internal bleeding. Broken ribs. But she’s responding, at the moment, and right now just needs to rest.” She glanced down at herself before flicking Kellan a look. “And so do I. I need a shower, a new change of clothes and a nap. I usually don’t have trauma cases like this show up in my hospital, Sheriff. But I figured you wouldn’t leave until you heard something.”
He nodded, and forced himself to smile slightly. “I’m putting a deputy on her door.”
Dr. Winter said shortly, “Good.”
He left soon after talking to Grady, reassuring himself that Kim was still alive.
Grady was a good cop. He’d do his damnedest to make sure the girl stayed that way.
Which meant allowing nobody in that room. She had been the best suspect, even if she was the most unlikely. And she’d almost died.
So he still had a killer out there. Somebody who was striking out in an irrational manner. No sense. Damn it, it made no sense.
None of it. He stalked outside, jerking open the door to his car and dropping into the seat. He left the door open, leaving the dome light on as he stared at his hands. Blood stained his clothes, and he couldn’t get it out from under his nails. The bastard had caught her across the chest with the business end of the poker. Not all of her injuries were from blunt force trauma. The pointed end had torn open a nasty gash diagonally across her torso.
“Damn it,” he muttered. Closing his hand into a fist, he slammed it against the steering wheel and rasped out, “Who the fuck are you?”
Kim slept through the day.
Everywhere he went, Kellan heard the same damn thing. “Who could have done that? Kim is harmless.” A hundred different variations of the same question.
In the county hospital cafeteria, Kellan poured himself another cup of bitter, overly strong coffee.
“That stuff will eat the lining out of your stomach.”
Turning around, he stared into Darci’s wide green eyes. “Hey,” he murmured.
She smiled slightly, arching a brow at him. “Hey,” she whispered. Heat flooded her eyes and Kellan felt that look as solidly as if she’d reached out and touched him. Her eyes looked bruised, sleepless. And the sigh that shuddered out of her sounded terribly defeated. “I heard about Kim. Came by, but Grady says he can’t let anybody in.”
He sipped at the coffee, his eyes widening as the caffeine started to sing in his system from the first sip. The minute it hit his empty belly, he winced. “Damn. Probably
“I don’t get it.” She moved away from him, dropping into one of the chairs, resting her elbows on the round table as she massaged her temples. “Maybe this is why I’m not a cop, but I don’t see much connection between any of these people. The only thing they have in common is they all worked for the gallery.”
Kellan took the seat across from her, arching a brow. “I imagine Tricia is getting pretty desperate. Peggy spends more time working in her studio than in the gallery, her two employees are gone, and two of her artists.”
She shrugged a shoulder. “Apparently, Beth and Carrie are more popular now than they ever were. Talked to Tricia recently-she says she’s never been so busy.”
In the act of lifting his coffee to his lips for another stomach-searing drink, Kellan froze, lowering the cup back to the table. “People love a scandal. And the bloodier, the more notorious, the better,” he murmured. “Three murders… I imagine her gallery is hopping.”
He kept his voice level, but his mind was buzzing as the pieces finally fell together.
The videos from the past night flashed through his mind. Yes, Kim had been there, but then so had a number of other women. Jealousy. Somehow, that was how Bryce played into it, and the fact that he worked for the gallery, increasing the already notorious reputation.
Three murders. Would have been four, except Kim had gotten away. Had it all been about money? Had the scene just been staged so that it looked personal? He felt eyes on him and he looked up, seeing Darci staring at him with a confused, curious look.
“What?” she asked softly.
He shrugged. “Nothing.” He pushed his cup away and forced a grin. “You’re right. That coffee will tear up a
