This time he went down, stayed down.

And she ran.

* * *

Zane stood in his office, hands in pockets. Just broken glass, he reminded himself. Nobody hurt, easily repaired. Insured.

But it upset and disturbed him that anyone would deliberately destroy what was his.

“The only person I’ve had any trouble with since I got back would be Clint Draper,” he told Silas.

His brother-in-law, dark blond hair still a little bed-rumpled, his raw-boned face still carrying the night’s stubble, nodded.

“I know it. We’ll be talking to him. But like I said, we got three calls for broken windows, all within about fifteen minutes.”

“All on Main Street?”

“I don’t think so. I need to check on that. Ginny was on call tonight, and contacted me when your office got hit. She handled the first two, but figured I’d want in. I’m two minutes away, and family. Speaking of, I felt like we had to let the chief know.”

Silas shook his head at the rock, at the shards of glass. “It’s just not the sort of vandalism we get around here. Some mailbox bashing along the lake road, kids TPing houses now and then, keying cars, and the like.”

“Well, if you catch them, and they want a defense attorney, they can count me out.”

“Can’t blame you.” His radio signaled. “Hold on.” Silas paced away, paced back after a brief conversation.

“The chief’s on his way. He wants you to stay put. He needs to talk to you.”

His brother-in-law had a good cop face, but Zane knew him too well to miss the worry. “What is it?”

“He’s contacted the local LEOs in Raleigh, just to make sure Graham Bigelow’s where he’s supposed to be.”

“Why?”

“Dave Carter’s place got a rock through the window. And so did your old house in Lakeview Terrace. That makes a connection, Zane, so let’s make sure.”

“Why the hell would he—Darby.” Fear chilled him straight down to the bone. “She’s alone at my place.”

He rushed out before Silas could stop him, and screamed away from the curb just as Lee pulled up.

“Get in,” Lee shouted at Silas. “We just got a nine-one-one from Zane’s house.”

“Darby’s there.”

“I know. She made the call.”

The Porsche hit eighty before the town limits, and Zane didn’t ease up. He hit the hands-free to call Darby, to tell her to hide, lock herself in and hide, and the phone rang.

“Darby. I need you to find a safe place, lock yourself in. I think Graham’s going to try to get in the house.”

“Too late. I’m okay. I called nine-one-one first.”

“I’m nearly there.”

“I’m okay. I’m all right. I—I can see you. Slow down. Jesus, don’t wreck the car. I’m okay.”

He could see her now in the wash of security lights, sitting on the steps of the porch. Her face so white the blood on it shined like neon.

She started to get to her feet as he screamed to a stop, wobbled, sat again.

He lifted her straight up. “Where are you hurt? What did he do to you? Which way did he go?”

“I’m not hurt. He tried, but I’m not really hurt. He didn’t go anywhere. He’s inside.”

Everything in him went hard and cold. “That’s Lee coming. You hear the sirens? You stay right here, wait for him. Stay out here, Darby.”

He went inside, ready, even eager now, to take on the man who’d put blood and bruises on what was precious to him.

And found Dr. Graham Bigelow on the floor, unconscious, his arms and legs restrained with … bungee cords.

“I had some in the truck,” Darby managed from the doorway.

“You did this?”

“I … I feel a little sick.” When she stumbled back outside, Zane scooped her up again, sat her down.

“Head between your legs. Breathe slow, darlin’. Just breathe.”

He waited for Lee to pull up behind his car, for Lee and Silas to leap out. “He’s inside. He won’t give you any trouble. Darby saw to that.”

“Is she hurt? Does she need an ambulance?”

“I don’t think so.” He kept rubbing her back, slow, steady strokes. “Just shaky. If she needs to go to the clinic, I’ll take her. You can decide if he needs one.”

“I’m all right,” she said again, but kept her head between her knees.

Silas came back out, crouched in front of her. He used the same gentle tone Zane had heard him use with Audra. “Sweetheart, did you hog-tie that son of a bitch with bungee cords?”

“It’s what I had handy.”

“How about we get you inside, get you sitting down with some cool water. If you don’t want to go to the clinic right off, I can call Dave Carter. He’ll come look you over.”

“Do that, Silas,” Zane told him. “I should’ve thought of that.”

“I’m not really hurt,” Darby began, only to have Zane pick her up. “And I can walk.”

“No,” he said, and carried her inside.

He walked straight past Graham and Lee, who was switching out bungee cords for cuffs, carried her back to the great room sofa.

“Sit.”

“Do I get a Milk-Bone?”

“Knock it off.” He walked to the kitchen, got her a bottle of water, walked back, dampened a cloth, and unbalanced her mood by gently wiping the blood from her face. “It’s not yours,” he murmured, and kissed her cheek.

“No. It’s his. I broke his nose. That was for you.”

That broke him. He gripped her free hand, pressed it to his lips, just held there. Then he looked into her eyes. “I don’t know what to say to you.”

“Nice work?”

“Ah, Jesus, Darby.”

“Here.” She held out the water. “I think you could use some, too. Then maybe we just sit here a minute and pull ourselves together.”

Lee found them like that, sitting, passing the water bottle.

“Dave and Jim are on their way. Silas is on Bigelow, and I’ve got another couple of officers coming. He’s going to need some medical attention, so we’ll get him out of here. Honey, are you hurt?”

“Not really.”

“There’s blood on your shirt.”

“That’s his. I broke his nose, and I kicked him in the face. And the balls. I—I’ve got a black belt. Kung fu.”

Blowing out a breath, Lee sat. “Are you steady enough to tell me what happened?”

“Yeah. I was just shaky before. I never actually … training and competitions aren’t the same. I was down here, in the kitchen, and the security lights went on. I figured deer. I use repellant but they’re tricky. So I turned off the alarm, opened the back door to go out and chase them off. I didn’t even see him coming. He charged me—that was his mistake.”

“Mistake?”

“If he’d punched me, he’d probably have put me down, maybe knocked me out, but he just barreled in, knocked me back against the island—I think—and I fell. I was a little dazed, but not out. I think I saw him yesterday, parked across the street from the Ledbeckers’ place.”