Ranger Defender

Her head shook from side to side. “You aren’t going to take no for an answer, are you?”

“I’ll stop by the wing place if I find anything.”

“Thank you for your help.”

“I haven’t done anything yet.”

Vivian’s expression filled with sadness and regret. With that, she shut the truck door. He could read people pretty well and she was silently screaming that she didn’t expect anyone—especially a lawman—to help. He waited for her to go inside her apartment, then called Wade again.

“Miss me already?” Wade answered.

“Check with the OIG for the VA. See if they have any weird reports or complaints.”

“That would be the Office of Inspector General for Veterans Affairs that won’t be open until tomorrow. And what will you be doing?”

“I’m going home and repairing a barn stall like I told my dad I would. I’m also about to beg my mother to fix me dinner. Totally starved.”

“Bring the leftovers tomorrow. Payback for me doing all your legwork.”

“You’re the one sitting behind a desk, man. I’m the one sitting on wet denim from doing your legwork on this hunch of yours.”

“And it’s paying off.”

“Tomorrow, man.”

It was probably better that Vivian Watts had to work a double tomorrow. Probably better since he needed to wrap up his current caseload before he could take vacation days and help her. He couldn’t flash around his badge, but mentioning that he was a ranger might open some doors that had been slammed for her.

Statistics weren’t in their favor. He wouldn’t be just another man who got her hopes up and left her hanging.

Chapter Nine (#u0b26392c-075e-525d-87f8-ba0b993c75ee)

“I could never have assumed that Rashid would react to the suggestion before he left the hospital.” Abby pulled at her cuticles with tweezers. She spoke to the only person completely familiar with her work, herself.

Several doctors, including Roberts, had ordered her to stop, stating it was unhealthy to pick at her nails. They were wrong.

Her skin was raw, but there were still pieces. She picked more furiously before looking up into her red, freshly scrubbed face. Certain there was another layer of dirt on her epidermis, she obtained another washcloth, rubbing and scrubbing as hard as she could.

Setting the cloth onto the counter, she switched back to the tweezers, picking until the bright red of her clean blood seeped around the nail. She went to the cabinet to remove the last washcloth from the sealed bag. She would begin the cleansing process again until she was positive the germs from walking on an unfamiliar street were no longer present.

“Enough!” her reflection yelled.

“I can never get clean enough,” she answered behind the cloth.

“You must control yourself, Abby. Break from your routine. There is work to be done. Check the list you made while waiting for the train. It’s thorough.”

“Yes. I need to identify the woman in the truck.” The tweezers caught her eye. She dropped the newer white cloth on top of the metal but immediately had to place them in the sterilizing jar.

“My darling Abby. You are so smart and will find my answers. The perfect death will be ours. I’ve always had faith in you.”