Crush

was bleeding. She felt for his wrist, for a pulse. But there was nothing. Jesus Christ. What the hell happened here?

Argument with Fuller. Sharp—she brought her right hand to her neck. Something stuck her neck. She remembered that. But Fuller? Dead? Why wasn’t she killed, too?

And if Fuller had tried to burn her alive, then who’d want to kill him—and leave her among the living?

Cell phone—she needed to call someone. Robby. Dixon. Where did she keep it? Come on, Karen, think.

She felt around and located her BlackBerry. Couldn’t find Robby’s or Dixon’s number. New phone. Shit! She paged to the call log. A DC number—Rooney. She hit Call and waited while it rang. He answered on the first ring.

“Karen. Everything okay?”

His voice was amplified, like he was on a headset. “No, Art, things are all fucked up. I—I don’t know what happened. I think I was drugged—”

“Drugged—where are you?”

She slowly turned. It was dark . . . no lights of any kind. “I’m in the middle of nowhere. A vineyard, I’m in a vineyard. More than that, I don’t know. I remember driving on—on Silver . . . Silverado. Silverado Trail. I remember that. I thought someone was following me. Turned out to be Scott Fuller. He tried to run me off the road, we crashed, I got out of my car, and—I’m not sure. We argued. About the arson. I was talking to him,”— asking him whether he killed Victoria Cameron—“I was asking him if he killed Victoria Cameron. Then I felt something sharp and I went down. When I woke up, I was on the ground, I was dizzy—and Fuller’s dead.”

“Dead? How?”

“I don’t know—blood. There’s blood on his chest, I checked for a pulse. But my phone, it’s a new one after the fire, the one you gave me. And there’s no contact list so I don’t have anyone’s number—”

“Karen. Listen to me. I’m going to call Detective Hernandez. Then I’ll call Brix.”

“Call Dixon, Roxxann Dixon.”

“Okay. I’ll call her. How are you, are you able to wait for them?”

“I’m . . . okay, I think. Just have Robby call me. I’ll try to direct him to where I am.”

“Need be, we’ll track your cell signal. Meantime, be careful, Karen. Someone tried to kill you. And he’s still out there.”

“Actually, Art, the guy who tried to kill me is a few feet away from me. Dead. And whoever drugged me and killed him could just as easily have killed me, too. So I think he’s got other plans.”

“Maybe. If this guy’s a narcissist, this could all be part of his game. Showing you how superior he is, that he controls things, not you. He could’ve easily killed you, but didn’t. Maybe next time he will. We don’t know what’s going on yet. But we can’t assume it’s safe just because this one time keeping you alive served his purpose better.”

Vail knew he was right. “Fine. I’ll keep you posted. Just make sure they keep this stuff off the police band.”

She hung up and waited for Robby to call her. Meantime, she didn’t want to move—she’d already compromised the crime scene by crawling through it. At present, less was more. She kept her feet planted.

Robby’s call came through two minutes later. She told him her location, as best she could estimate, then waited. A short time later, two cars pulled up simultaneously, approaching from opposite directions. As Dixon and Robby exited their vehicles, Vail called out to them. As they started toward her, Brix drove up. The three of them left their headlights burning and stood at the edge of the vineyard, twenty yards from Vail’s Taurus. To their right sat Fuller’s upended vehicle.

“Sorry,” Vail called to them.

“For what?” Robby asked.

“The car. It only had thirty thousand miles on it.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m still groggy and dizzy, but I’ve been worse.” Robby knew firsthand she was telling the truth.

Dixon turned on the black tactical flashlight she was holding and panned it around. She paused on Fuller’s Chrysler. “What happened?”

“Fuller tried to kill me again.”

“Again?” Brix asked.

Vail went through the sequence of events in as much detail as she remembered, including Rooney’s discovery of the sealed record.

Brix and Dixon shared a look of disbelief.

“So that’s what I mean by ‘again.’”

“Until we know for sure,” Brix said, “it’s just a theory.”

Vail let that slide. “Whatever,” she said. “But you may want to notify Stan Owens. I’m sure he’ll want to come down here, ID the body.”

Brix pulled his phone. “Damn straight.”

“Meantime, I’ve gotta find my sidearm without disturbing the area more than I already have.”

“Get Matt Aaron down here,” Brix said to Dixon. “And an ambulance for her.”

“I don’t need an ambulance,” Vail said. “I’ll be okay, I just need some time.”

“You’re getting the ambulance,” Dixon said. “This is no time for tough guy theatrics. Sounds like you were injected with something. Until we get a better handle on what happened to you, we need to do this right.”

Robby took the flashlight from Dixon, then stepped closer to Vail. “I don’t know where the crime scene boundary is, but you think you can catch this?”

“I’m still kind of groggy and unsteady. Just stay there and shine the light on the ground. Maybe I’ll get lucky.”

After several minutes of doing a tight-beamed grid search, Vail saw something metallic at the base of a thick vine. “Over there.” She pointed to the spot and Robby moved a step to his right, crouching lower to change the light’s angle. “Got it.” She stepped a few paces to her left, toward the handgun. “I’m gonna put my business card under a rock to mark where we found it.”

Using the bottom, clean portion of her blouse, Vail picked up the Glock and blew on it to dislodge any loose dirt. She pulled the slide back and gave it another good infusion of air. Then she carefully slipped it into her fanny pack. “I’m gonna have to turn it in to the local resident agency. They’ll send it on to the lab for processing.”

“Did Fuller ever touch it?”

She thought a moment before answering. “I think he just knocked it out of my hand. I picked it up after, so I’m pretty sure there aren’t any of his prints on there.” She carefully made her way out of the vineyard, doing her best to avoid destroying any trace evidence or footprints.

When she reached Robby, they embraced.

“Ready to go home yet?” he asked by her ear.

Vail looked up at him, her expression hard, her jaw set. That was the only answer he needed.

“I’ll call the resident agency, if you want. Which one is it?”

Vail stepped away and brushed back her hair. “Santa Rosa.”

Robby strained to get a look at his watch. “Hopefully I’ll catch someone working late.” He pulled out his phone and started dialing.

The flash of a first responder’s light bar flickered in the night sky, accompanied by a siren that pierced the countryside like an air raid warning. As Vail sat down on the bumper, a clean-cut paramedic in his late twenties jumped out and attended to her. “How are you doing, ma’am?”

The man’s name was embroidered above his left pocket and read, Marcus. “Much better now,” she said, giving him a quick once over. “Nothing like a man in uniform.”

Marcus shifted his feet, grinned sheepishly, and probably blushed.

Robby snapped his phone shut. “Excuse me?”

Vail turned to Robby and said, “Second time in a week I find myself flirting with a medic. Fun as it might seem, I think I should get my kicks another way. Take up bowling, maybe. Or mahjong. What do you think?”

Robby looked over at the confused first responder and shrugged. “I don’t know what it is about her, but she