Her shoulders went iron hard. “Don’t you dare say you’re sorry. I picked her up on the side of the road. I brought her to you for help. We’re in this together.” Though her eyes stung with tears, her voice came fierce. “Don’t you dare say you’re sorry to me for any part of this.”

She swiped the heels of her hands over the tears that escaped. “Zod needs to go out.”

Since the dog all but danced at the door, Zane had to agree.

“I’ll take him—on a leash. Any possibility you could try to scramble up some eggs?”

“I can do that, but I can’t guarantee how they’ll turn out.”

“Can’t be worse than mine.”

He got the leash, clipped it on the delighted dog. “If you’d been alone at your place—”

“I just went through a bunch of ifs upstairs before I reminded myself ifs don’t matter. You’d better work up a serious appetite if you’re going to swallow down my eggs.”

In the wash of his security lights, Zane walked the dog, and used the task as an excuse to aim toward where he figured the shooter had stood. He’d examined plenty of crime scenes in his past life, pored over countless police reports.

And since he had, he kept Zod on a short leash. Wisely, he decided when the dog sniffed the air and strained against it to move ahead.

“Easy. We mess anything up, Lee won’t have to kick my ass. I’ll kick my own.”

Moving carefully, he didn’t have to follow Zod’s nose for long. He could follow his own. Only more cautious now, he picked the dog up, tolerated the wiggles, the lapping tongue as he studied ground already disturbed.

And the blood, still fresh.

“Now, what do you make of that?” he mumbled. “You just hold on.” Crouching, he got a firm grip on Zod’s collar, dug his phone out of his pocket. He took a couple of shots, then frog-walked back until he had enough distance to trust the leash again.

He had to tug the dog away, then lead him off to where Zod could do what he had to do without compromising the scene.

While the dog busied himself, Zane called Lee.

“I found something—and before you jump, I didn’t compromise the scene. I’m going to send you a couple pictures. You’re going to want to get somebody over here. There had to be two of them, Lee, and one of them’s bleeding.”

He sent the pictures, thought it through while he walked Zod back for a very early breakfast.

Darby stood by the stove, scowling at the skillet. “First they were runny, and then in like seconds, they’re overdone. But I didn’t burn them, so that’s—”

She turned as she spoke, saw his face. “What? What happened?”

“They’re gone. Don’t worry.”

“They?”

He nodded, bent to unclip the leash. “Zod sniffed out where they’d been. That’s a good dog.” He gave the dog a rub, then poured his food in his bowl. Zod pounced on it like a lion pounces on a gazelle.

“There’s blood.”

“Blood? But—”

“I’m not an investigator, but I’ve worked with them. Simplest to my eye? Two of them, and one bashed the other with a rock. You’ve got a bloody rock,” he continued as he got out plates. “You’ve got blood on the ground, crushed brush, short drag marks.”

He shrugged. “They’ll find more once the sun’s up, but simplest is two, and one hauled the other out after he coshed him with a rock.”

She stood watching him while he got out forks. “You’re pretty damn cool about it.”

“Well, now it’s a mystery, so that’s interesting. And we’re about to have eggs and coffee.” He gave her arms a quick rub, much as he had the dog—with easy affection. “I’m still pissed, but now we’ve got something to figure out on top of it. Clint Draper’s easy, almost certain to be him and we’d know why. But, darlin’, why did Clint hit somebody with a rock when he had a rifle? Or why did somebody hit him with one?”

“To protect us? And that doesn’t make any sense,” she admitted as she scooped clumps of overdone eggs onto the plates. “Why would they be in the woods in the middle of the night? Why would they haul the other away and not say anything?”

“See.” He shot a finger at her, sat to eat. “Got you thinking. Could be one of his pals, whoever he’s using to hide out. They had a disagreement out there, one smacks the other.”

“Hmm.” She sampled eggs. Maybe more salt. “Then it’s oh shit, we better get out of here. But that’s just stupid.”

He tried more pepper. “We’re talking—most likely—Clint Draper, darlin’. They don’t come much more stupid.”

“Most likely,” she echoed. “It is most likely, but you’ll still check on people you helped put away that might want to hurt you.”

“I’ve got files. I’ll be looking, but odds are better Lee rounds Clint up pretty quick, and that DNA, the prints slam that shut.” Because they weren’t any worse than what he’d have scrambled up, he ate more eggs. “He’s pissed. Lee.”

“I could see that for myself.”

“He’d do the job regardless, but being pissed? He’ll round Clint Draper up pretty quick. Even so, what I’m going to tell you is—”

“There are other Drapers,” she finished. “And—how’s this for talking southern—they won’t take kindly to having their kin locked up.”

“Not bad for a Yankee, and no, they won’t take kindly to it. So you’re going to be careful. We’re going to be careful,” he corrected before she could. “Plus, we’ve got ourselves this fierce guard dog.”

Darby glanced over at Zod. He’d finished his breakfast and now lay on his back, stubby legs in the air, wide tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth.

Smiling, she lifted the charm she wore around her neck. “That makes two of us.”

“And we’ll look out for each other.” He closed his hand over hers. “All three of us.”

As if jabbed with a needle, Zod leaped up and, barking madly, raced toward the front of the house.

“Cops coming back,” Zane said. “One thing’s for certain, nobody’s going to be able to sneak in here with the General on duty.”

He rose, took his plate and hers to the sink. “I’ll get the dishes,” he told her. “You call off our little and fierce.”

She got up, breathed out. “I love you, Walker.” When he turned, smiled, she lifted her shoulders. “It seemed like one of those just-right times to say so.”

“Anytime’s the right time. I love you right back.”

Knowing it for pure truth, she went to call off the wildly barking dog, and let in the police.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

It took her back, having cops everywhere, the way they moved, the way they spoke. It pulled Darby back to the Bigelow attack, but oddly that violent encounter blurred in her mind. Everything about it so fast, so hard.

But the cop speak, the routine of the work, yanked her back to the morning she’d lost her mother. And with crystal clarity, the impossible shock and disbelief when the police came to the door with grim faces, terrible words rolled over and through her. Now, just like then, she had nothing to do, no action to take.