“The room was dark, so not much. I had my hand on her sleeve, then I didn’t.” She gripped him back. “I don’t know how I know it, but I felt someone hit her. Air moving maybe. And I heard her say something about mothballs.”

  “Could you tell which direction they went?”

  “No, but I’d guess one of the side doors. Back’s too hard to get to through the kitchen, and you can forget the front.”

  “I’ll go left,” Fred volunteered and began plowing through the field of bodies.

  Logan took her flashlight, used his forearm on someone’s throat and deposited Jenny-Lynn at the pass-through. “Get those lights on and make sure both Bulleys are still here.”

  “I can hear Lloyd squawking, so he’s here for sure.” She dug stubby fingernails into his arm. “Find her, Logan, before…” A swallow ended the statement. Turning, she shouted the owner’s name.

  Logan followed the long bar to the second door. Could be a Bulley had grabbed Sera out of spite, but that was probably wishful thinking.

  “Logan, I wanna…whoa, no, take it back.”

  Logan pointed the gun he’d drawn from his waistband at the ceiling and fixed his eyes on Victor Bulley’s shadowed face. “Where’s your brother?” he demanded.

  A sneer appeared. “None of your f…”

  An uppercut sent him sprawling over a table that cracked under his weight.

  Logan had no idea what the killer’s plan might be when operating on unfamiliar ground. The Bulleys would do anything short of murder if the price was right, and Sera’s abductor could undoubtedly playact with the best of them. He might have paid a Bulley to take her.

  He reached the exit and pushed through to the relative silence of the alley. A row of trucks lined one side, metal trashcans the other.

  Toby rushed through the door behind him. “Fred just told me…”

  “Go right,” Logan ordered. “Check every vehicle.”

  He took the longer line on the left. He’d barely reached the first truck when an engine roared to life.

  “Got you, bastard,” Logan growled as light flooded the alley. Taking aim, he went for the tires.

  The truck slammed into reverse. He shot twice. The man in the truck retaliated, letting five rounds go. Ramming the side of Abe’s Hummer, he fired again, then jumped out and bolted into the night.

  Logan heard Toby go down behind him and swore.

  “I’m okay,” Toby called weakly. “He winged my arm.”

  The truck’s tires squealed. Logan smelled burning rubber. The box was wedged against Abe’s heavy vehicle. Stones flew in all directions. Cutting through the twin beams, Logan raised an arm against the rock spray and yanked the driver’s side door open.

  He saw her in the back of the extended cab, facedown on the seat. Unmoving.

  “Sera!” Kicking a stone off the gas pedal, he shoved the truck out of gear and reached for her.

  Was she breathing? He pressed his fingers to the pulse point in her neck. Fast but steady. And there was no trace of red on the cracked seat.

  Logan let his forehead drop onto her hair. She was alive.

  And he was in deep, deep trouble.

  Chapter Nine

  “I don’t have a concussion.” Arms folded, Sera regarded the line one of his deputies had drawn on the station floor. “You don’t seriously expect me to do this.”

  Logan sat back at his desk, hat forward, booted feet propped on top. “Walk the line, and the key to the clinic’s yours. Otherwise it’ll be up to Doc Prichard to deal with the fallout from last night’s fisticuffs.”

  “It was a barroom brawl, and I happen to know you were in there brawling with the best of them. You also saved my life, so thank you. Again.” At his placid stare, she sighed. “Still have to navigate the line, huh?”

  “Do it, and I can go out to the practice range, blow the guy away a few dozen times.”

  The killer had left a white bandanna, Sera recalled with a chill. He’d stuffed it under the seat of his truck, or rather a truck stolen from Edgar Bulley’s barn.

  There’d been no non-Bulley paraphernalia inside, and she didn’t anticipate any better luck in terms of fingerprints. Besides, what would it prove if they did find one of Hugh Paxton’s prints? Identifying him wasn’t the key. Unmasking him was.

  Resigned, Sera walked to the top of the line. “I’m only doing this once, Logan, so sit up and take notice.”

  He didn’t, but she saw his lazy smile and knew he was watching. Closely.

  Five seconds later, she pivoted ninety degrees in three-inch heels, then strolled toward him, palm out. “Mission accomplished, Chief. Where’s the clinic?”

  It took two minutes to get there from the station and less than half that time for Sera to understand what everyone had been telling her from the start about Rufus Prichard.

  Chimpanzees could have done a better job of organizing and maintaining the town’s limited medical equipment. The BP monitor had a torn cuff, the stethoscope was dirty and the scale fell apart when she touched it.

  “You have paramedics, right?” She flicked through the filing cabinet and wasn’t impressed.

  “Four of them,” Logan confirmed. “They take emergencies straight to Casper.”

  Sera looked around, considered. “Jenny-Lynn’s right. You’ll need more doctors when the resort’s done. What about nurses?”

  “Only one. She’s sixty-six and married to Jenny-Lynn’s uncle. She worked with Prichard for two days after she retired from her hospital job in Casper. On Tuesday afternoon, she marched across the street to inform me that she was putting an old Norse curse on him. So far it hasn’t kicked in.”

  With Ella nosing her arm, Sera inspected the medicine cupboard. Uncapped bottles sat alongside open boxes of tongue depressors, cotton wadding and gauze. “Why hasn’t someone run him out of town?”

  “He’s all we’ve got, Doc.”

  “That’s not an answer.”

  “You’re desperate, you either drive to Casper or you take your chances with Prichard.”

  She thought of the pregnant woman she’d spoken to and leaned against the cupboard to close it. “What about midwives?”

  “She knows what she’s doing.”

  “Caregivers?”

  Crouching, Logan searched out a dusty coffee pot. “You do know where you are, right? You need care, you call a relative, a friend or a neighbor.”

  She grinned. “Everyone knows everyone, is that it?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “So the Blindfold Killer probably won’t risk staying in town.”

  “Probably not.”

  “Which leaves campsites, roadside motels…and you’ve already got that covered, haven’t you?”

  Logan regarded her from his crouch. “Come here, Sera.”

  It was his tone more than his expression that had an anticipatory shiver whispering across her skin. No fan stirred the air in the clinic. There was only the heat and her pulse points doing a sudden series of war dances throughout her body.

  Stay away, her brain urged. But of course she ignored it and went with the challenge of holding her own against Logan.

  “This better turn into a romantic moment because if you show me a dead animal, you’ll find you’re due for a very nasty vaccination.”

  “Probably be smarter to take the shot.” But his lips curved, and he wrapped his fingers around her neck and held her eyes with his. “This is a really bad idea, Sera.”

  “I know.”

  “I can’t watch your back if my head’s as screwed up as I let it get last night.”

  “You did? It was?” Delight filtered in. “When? Why? How?”

  “Strip poker, strip poker, vivid imagination.”

  She wanted to laugh, but the urge to kiss him won out, and with a soft “This is so wrong,” she took his face in her hands, yanked his mouth onto hers and dived in.

  Sensation rocked her from head to toe, wave after stunning wave. A need she hadn’t known existed surged and swirled inside her.

  It was like plunging head first over a cliff and not knowing if there was water below or a dry roadbed. Not that it mattered. Right then it was all about the fall, about the fiery rush of wind over her limbs and the dark, dangerous taste of him.

  Drawing her closer, Logan changed the angle of the kiss, taking it from hot to molten. He used his tongue, his hands and somehow, without moving, his body. There was no gentle exploration this time—there was only greed and hunger and desire, skating on the slippery slope of control.

  When his hand slid to her breast, a gasp leaped into her throat. He swallowed it. Sera fisted his hair and nipped his bottom lip. She needed to taste and feel all of him.

  She also needed to breathe, and for a heart-thudding moment, she couldn’t. Or wasn’t. She eased back just far enough to get air and steady her spinning head.

  “I feel like I’m on a carousel from hell—only in a good way.” Very slowly, the room and her racing heart began to settle. Maybe. Her eyes rose to the ceiling. “Do I hear drums?”

  The ghost of a smile crossed Logan’s lips. “It’s the door, Sera. Someone wants in.”

  “Ah.” Her mouth curved, and she gave his bottom lip a last regretful bite. “For a second I was thinking subarachnoid hemorrhage. Blow to the skull followed by the trauma of a killer kiss.” Her smile blossomed when he narrowed his eyes. “One of us should probably answer the door before…”

  “Doc Sera, you in there?” A man’s voice came from the other side. “It’s Travis from last night. Bunch of us out here need looking at.”

  “Where’s a good sub-hem when you need one? Logan, I only wanted to see the clinic. I’m not a family doctor.”

  “Yes, you are.” He gave her a grin and a kiss and brought her back to her feet. “For today anyway.” Eyes gleaming, he returned the hat to his head and scratched Ella’s ears. “I’ll talk to Beth about giving you a hand.”

  “The Norse nurse?”

  “Doc Sera?” the man called again.

  “I’ll be right there, Travis.” She arched meaningful brows. “You realize I need a license to practice medicine in Wyoming.”

  “I know what you need. I also know you’re licensed to practice medicine in seventeen states, one of them being Wyoming. You’re running out of arguments, Sera—unless you just don’t want to help.”

  She kept her smile serene as she headed for the door. “It’s no wonder you did so well in last night’s brawl. Below the belt appears to be your specialty. Talk to Nurse Beth, think of somewhere nice to take me for dinner—your treat as per our poker game bet—and have fun at target practice.”

  “Sounds like goodbye to me.”

  “You think?” Then she opened the door to an overflowing waiting room and stopped thinking about anything.

  Logan left with a twitch of his lips and, Sera imagined, a satisfied dusting of hands. Trap sprung. His charge was safe, and he was free to pursue other chiefly matters.

  Beth arrived within thirty minutes. She wore a beaded headband with a Native American drawing on the front, a feather and leather belt and a ruffled pink blouse.

  “I don’t like milk,” she said and waited as a child might for Sera to respond.

  Which she did with a twinkle while inspecting the bullet graze on Toby’s right arm. “I don’t like green vegetables. Way more problematic.”

  The young deputy drooped. “I don’t like red meat. Try living here and saying that. You think I could go on patrol today, Doc? I mean, moving around’s better than sitting behind a desk, right?”

  “Depends. How many of your Bulley cousins are in jail now? Four?”

  “Five. Logan caught Jake trying to sneak in the back door and jimmy the cell doors.”

  “People who have turnips for brains do that sort of thing,” Beth remarked. “I’ll dress that arm if you want to move on, Doctor. Toby’s sweet on my granddaughter. He knows I’ll only hurt him if he gets her pregnant.”

  What could she say to that? Sera wondered. With a final inspection, she stepped back. “All yours. I have a possible fractured femur in the next room.”

  “Any of the local boys get fresh, you tell them I’m here and I brought my enema bag with me.”

  Sera started out but paused on the threshold. “Toby, do you know if Logan talked to Dr. Prichard about any of this?”

  “Prichard’s gone fishing, but Logan’ll handle him when he gets—ouch—back.”

  “Sorry.” But the sweet-faced Beth didn’t look it as she picked up a roll of gauze. “I’m sure that rumor I heard about you and Lily in the movie theater wasn’t entirely true.”

  Grinning, Sera moved on.

  One hour flowed into the next. Jenny-Lynn brought her a sandwich and coffee and Ella a bowl of kibble at lunchtime. Then Babe, fresh off the round of flexibility exercises Sera had prescribed, hobbled in wearing a new pair of orthopedic shoes for which she wanted official approval. Ten minutes later, the mayor came by to tell her the gel she’d recommended worked just fine on insect bites.

  It was after six o’clock when the last patient appeared. He had his left wrist cradled in his right, and he was pushing his tongue carefully against an incisor.

  He watched her in uncertain silence until she walked past him. Then his face cleared. “I know you,” he exclaimed. He gave her a sheepish grin. “Recognize your perfume anyway. But I guess it couldn’t have been you I saw leaving the bar last night.”

  Beth poked her head inside. “I’m back with the supplies, Doc. I know we’re closing, but I’ll just see to the man who’s been shuffling his feet on the sidewalk since I left. He’s got a lump the size of a duck egg on his skull.” She regarded Sera’s patient. “Are you Babe’s late husband’s cousin Doug?”

  The man looked baffled. “Uh, no, ma’am. I’m Roy—Parsons,” he added, but he was talking to air as Beth disappeared into the waiting room.

  “You get used to it.” Sera examined his injured hand. “Is this from a fall or a punch?”

  The man’s neck went red. “Big guy took a swing at me. I took one back. Felt like I hit a stone wall.”

  “Sounds like you hit a Bulley.” She regarded his swollen knuckles. “Can you move your fingers?”

  “Hurts some, but yeah.”

  With her head bent, she glanced at his face. “You said you saw me leaving the bar last night. Did you see the person with me?”

  The red deepened. “Man’s about all I can say.”

  “Can you describe him?”

  He shrugged. “Taller than me, maybe six two or so. Thin. Might’ve had some hair on his face. Mostly I noticed you.”

  She smiled. “Pretty sure I wasn’t walking.”

  “He had you slung over his shoulder, you know, like firemen do.”

  “You saw that in the dark?”

  He shrugged. “I do a lot of night work up at the construction site, so I’m used to dark. Soon as the lights went out, I closed my eyes and got them adjusted. Opened them and saw you.”

  “Did you notice anything about the man other than his height?”

  Roy Parsons started to shake his head but frowned and wrinkled his nose. “Might’ve been him who smelled funny. I got a nose for smells. Now, your perfume, that’s pretty, but I’m not so fond of mothballs. My old dad, he used to pack everything short of food in them.” He wiggled his fingers for her. “I hope you weren’t hurt bad, Doc. Some in there were getting mighty loose with their fists.”

  Beth’s head reappeared around the door. “Sorry to interrupt, Dr. Sera, but Fred’s here. He’s got some kind of musical gizmo for you.”

  “Five minutes, Beth.” Crossing to the medicine cupboard, Sera located a fresh tube of ointment.

  She stopped the cap mid-twist as a sudden memory spiked. “Mildew,” she murmured.

  Her mind flew back. She’d been on the phone. He’d burst in and snatched it away. He’d pushed her. Maybe he’d struck her. She’d gone down. But before things went dark, she’d caught the combined smell of mothballs and mildew. On his coat, she thought now, possibly on that lightweight khaki sleeve as his arm had snaked around her.

  The watch was clear enough, worn high on his tanned right wrist. And, yes, it was his sleeve that had smelled of mildew. Like damp, dirty laundry, she reflected now.

  “Excuse me, Doc, are you all right?”

  Sera blinked and the memory shattered. “Yes—thank you.” But her eyes strayed to the door. Logan had said the biker’s saddlebags were filled with dirty laundry. He was tall, wiry, probably stronger than he looked. And he’d been at Tommy’s bar last night.

  The man called Roy slid from the table. “I can come back tomorrow if you’re tired.”

  “What? No, I’m fine.” She motioned him back up. “I just got sidetracked for a moment. Can you do me a favor when we’re finished here?”

  “Don’t have to be on site till eight. You got something needs fixing, I’m pretty good with my hands—well, hand.”

  Behind her, the door leading to the alley slammed open, and a tall man with murderous brown eyes strode in.

  His lips peeled away from his teeth when he spied her. Reaching into the back of his pants, he produced a knife, flipped the blade up and whipped it to the underside of her chin.

  “Thought you’d be alone by now, Doc, but I’m not figuring on this taking long.” He shoved the tip in just deep enough to prick her skin. “No sirree,” he snarled. “Not long at all.”

  Chapter Ten

  Sera’s heart skipped several beats. She heard Ella bark sharply in the waiting room. The man’s small eyes bored into hers. The point of his knife scraped forward under her skin. She spied a movement in her peripheral vision but didn’t shift her gaze.

  “You’re trouble, lady, in big, red letters. All my brothers are behind bars because of you.”

  “Which would make you the last free Bulley,” she replied calmly. “If you want to keep it that way, I’d lose the knife fast.”

  “Why?” He sneered. “You gonna stick me with one of your needles, send me to my grave like Doc Prichard did to old Billy’s dad?”

  Then suspicion crept in. His eyes turned to slits and his mouth snapped shut. Swearing, he started to spin.

 

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