Blake understood. The wounds that would take longest to heal were the ones no one could see.
“Did you get him?” Uncle Henry asked. “What did you mean the verdict is still out?”
Blake grimaced. “I tried, but he jumped into the river. West’s tracking him.”
Uncle Henry scooted in Blake’s direction. He opened and closed his hands in the universal sign for gimmee. “Come on. Let me take your vitals and check on those cuts and burns.”
Blake reluctantly stretched one arm in his uncle’s direction for a pulse check and blood pressure cuff.
Someone pounded on the ambulance doors. “It’s Sheriff Garrett, open up.”
Blake jerked his head toward the door.
Uncle Henry waddled to the back, careful not to hit his head on the low ceiling. “All you kids with your titles. Just say, it’s West. It’s Blake. It’s Cole. I know who you are.” He pushed the doors open, and West stared inside.
“How is she?” West asked.
“She’ll be okay,” Uncle Henry answered. “How about the bad guy? Should I call for another bus?”
West shook his head.
“Coroner?”
“Nah. We didn’t find him.”
“So, I missed,” Blake muttered, struggling not to upset Marissa again. Her sobs had finally fallen silent and her breathing returned to a slow and steady pace.
West raised an evidence baggie for Blake to see. There were leaves inside. “I found these on the banks near a patch of rocks and a little vomit.”
Blake took the bag in one hand for closer inspection. “That’s blood.”
“Yep.”
“I hit him.”
Uncle Henry retook his seat beside the gurney and liberated a cell phone from one uniform pocket.
West cocked a hip and cast a goofy look at his uncle. “Did Blake tell you he tripped over a wire roped to some C4?”
Uncle Henry removed the blood pressure cuff and squirted something onto Blake’s bloodied arm. “It’s a wonder you boys haven’t given your mother forty heart attacks by now. Ten for each of ya.”
West rolled his eyes, then refocused on Blake. “The team’s going strong. Your guys brought the lights and I’ve called in some of the best tracking dogs in the county. If the rain holds off, we’ll have him by dawn. I’ll get the leaves to the lab to confirm it’s Nash’s blood after the dogs get here. I’m going to stick around and direct the teams as they arrive. If you want to head back to the hotel with Marissa, we’ll be okay. There’s a lot of manpower in those woods chasing one injured man.”
Uncle Henry shined a bright light in Blake’s face.
Blake slapped it away. “Knock it off.”
Marissa chuckled against his chest. Blake held her tighter, wishing he knew why she’d laughed and how to make it happen again.
“Did you check his head?” West asked. “He’s talking really loudly.”
Blake waved a hand over his ears. “Do not. My ears are ringing, but I can hear. My vision is fine. I’m fine. I hurt like hell, but I’ll live.”
Cole strode into place beside West, spotlight in hand. He tilted his head back and looked skyward. “Storm’s coming. I’m heading out before it gets here. What we don’t find tonight could be washed away by morning.” He tipped his hat to his brothers, uncle and Marissa before jogging into the woods between flares.
Blake shifted Marissa in his arms and indicated that she should lie back on the gurney.
Shockingly, she complied.
He turned back to West. “We need to contact all the local hospitals, clinics and facilities where Nash can either get patched up or work on himself. Veterinarians and dental offices included. He’s resourceful, so put the word out. It’s going to be a lot harder for him to blend in while he’s bleeding.”
Uncle Henry wiggled his phone in the air. “I’m ahead of you, young ones.”
West watched Blake. His gaze lingered on the hand, now caressing Marissa as she tried to relax.
Blake lifted his chin in response to the questions on his brother’s brow.
Yes, he’d fallen hard and fast for this woman, and no, there was nothing he wouldn’t do to assure Nash Barclay never got anywhere near her again.
Chapter Twelve
The walkie-talkie on West’s shoulder erupted in a short blast of white noise. “Sheriff Garrett, this is dispatch,” a woman’s voice announced.
Marissa’s eyes popped open, her body on alert. Had they found Nash floating in the river? She chastised herself for wishing that he was facedown.
West depressed the button and turned his face toward the noisy device. “Go ahead.”
“I know you’ve got the whole team with you, sir, but there’s a call about some movement outside the Lane home on Blue Grass Run. Neighbor says there’s no car, but the lights are all on.”
Marissa shot upright, tugging her IV and ignoring the dull thud in her head.
“Whoa.” Uncle Henry shoved one hand over the tape securing her IV. “Wait a minute. Settle down.”
She wiggled free of his grip. “She’s talking about my sister’s house. I need to go.” Had enough time passed for Nash to reach Kara’s place? That was nearly a mile downriver from Marissa’s. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to gauge the possibility. In a kayak, yes. On foot? Maybe, but injured? That depended on where he was shot.
She gave Uncle Henry’s hand a pointed stare.
“Let the drip do its work,” he insisted.
“I feel better. My head’s fine. I’m not going to puke.” She grabbed Blake’s arm with her free hand. “Take me with you.”
West left the ambulance doors open as he walked away. A moment later, the lights on his cruiser flicked on, and he maneuvered through the crush of vehicles, heading downriver toward Kara’s neighborhood.
Blake looked from Marissa to his uncle.
Uncle Henry puffed his cheeks in defeat and released her hand. “She should rest. I put something mild in her IV for pain. I’d say you could leave her with me, but you’ve got the gun.”
Blake hesitated. “I can stay. Wait for
