Fatal Vendetta

He was beside her within a few seconds, pulling her to her feet. She fell against him, holding on tight and shaking. No words came. She wrapped her arms around his neck grateful for his strength and silence. He held her close. Her whole body was shaking.

After a long moment, she said, “He got away.”

“I’ve called into the police station. They’ll do a search. And since I didn’t dial 911, we might be able to avoid other reporters picking it up on their police scanners. I’m sure you don’t want to be a news item again.”

“Thank you.” Her cheek rested against his chest as gratitude flowed through her. She touched his sleeve. “I’m sorry, I got you all wet.”

He waved his hand in the air to indicate it didn’t matter. “Let’s go down to the police station and file a report.”

Anxiety surged up her throat. “Please, I can’t. I just want to go home, where it’s safe.”

“Okay, maybe later,” he said. “They can contact you after they’ve finished their search.”

There was a part of her that didn’t believe the police would do anything helpful. Past experience told her that you didn’t always get justice where the law was concerned. She took a wobbly step out of the water, weighted down by her soaked dress. He wrapped an arm around her waist.

When they got back to the parking lot, a few more people were already leaving. She pressed in close to him, not wanting to be seen or have to explain what had happened. She rested her head against his neck so no one would recognize her.

He seemed to instinctually know what she needed.

She could feel the weight of a few stares as Zach opened the passenger side door for her.

Zach got in and pulled out of the lot and was on the country road back into town in a few short minutes. As fields and fences clipped by, she wondered who her attacker was. His question lingered in her mind.

Are you scared yet?

Very different from the first attack when he insisted that she should know who he was.

He had had opportunity to drown her and instead had dragged the torture out. Who was he? What did he want from her?

* * *

Only his tight grip on the steering wheel gave away how angry Zach was. He was angry at himself for letting his guard down. He never should have let Elizabeth wander the parking lot alone. And he was enraged at the attacker. If he could get his hands on that guy...

Zach took in a breath. Violence never solved anything, and the last thing Elizabeth needed was to see his rage. Though it wasn’t directed at her, she had witnessed enough for one night.

They passed several police cars headed toward the country club on their way back into town. He’d asked the officers to keep it low-key for Elizabeth’s sake.

What he needed to do was direct his angry energy at finding this stalker. “Any idea who this guy might be? Why he’s after you?”

She took a moment to answer and then spoke slowly as though she were processing all that had happened. “Last time, he was angry at me for not knowing who he is and this time, he said he wants me to be scared.” Her voice wavered a little, probably from having to revisit what she’d just been through. “He’s inconsistent.”

She was holding it together pretty well, but he knew he had to be careful with his questions. Everyone had a breaking point, and he didn’t want to find hers. “So maybe it’s connected to a news story you did or a crazed fan,” he said.

She let out a little laugh. “I’m a reporter on a regional station. How many fans do you think I have?”

“To some people, anybody who is on television is famous. You must get fan mail.”

“Nothing scary or obsessive. Not even back when I worked for the larger station in Seattle,” she said.

When he’d researched her, he remembered thinking it was strange to give up a big-city job to come here. “Badger is a step down from Seattle.”

She laced her hands together. “I came back here to take care of my father.” He detected just a hint of defensiveness in her response.

Her father had died only few years ago. Clearly, she wasn’t telling the whole story. He let it go. She’d talk about it when she wanted to...or never. It was her choice. He certainly was in no position to judge when it came to keeping secrets.

She turned slightly in her seat to face him. “I don’t want to talk about Seattle. We both have to quit acting like reporters if we’re going to work on being friends.”

The lights of Badger came into view as he rolled down the two-lane. It was a fragile friendship. They were both a little too good at reading other people, and they both had a hard time shutting off the journalist instincts. Still, he warmed to the idea. Friends he could handle. “Agreed. I’ll try my best.”

He did like the idea of being her friend instead of her competition.

She nodded. “Okay, so let’s problem solve here.”

“Maybe this stalker is connected to a news story you covered,” he said.

She stared through the windshield as though a video were playing before her eyes. “There was one guy about five years ago. Randy Smith. He went to jail for robbery. He threatened everyone who had anything to do with his trial.” She touched the skirt of her ruined ball gown. “I remember, he pointed directly at me in the courtroom. I was only doing my job and reporting the facts.”

“That has to have been scary,” Zach said.

“It was, but I helped see that justice was the outcome and that made me feel good,” she said.

He slowed down when they entered the Badger city limits. So she desired justice over her own safety. He realized then he was sitting beside a very brave woman. “So would he be out by now?”

“I think so. And if I’m remembering right, he had a similar build to the guy who attacked me.” She cleared her throat and then rubbed her forehead. Her shoulders slumped. “I know this is important, and I want to get to bottom of it, but I really don’t want to think about this right now.”

He nodded. He wanted to nab this guy—Elizabeth wouldn’t be safe until they did—but it was clear the trauma was catching up to her. He slowed as he drew close to her neighborhood. He pulled up to the curb and pushed open his door. He ran around to her side of the car and held out a hand for her.

Even if she looked composed on the outside, he was pretty sure she was in a wrestling match with deep fear on the inside. Her fingers were cool to the touch as she gave him only a passing glance.

At the door, she fumbled through her clutch for the keys. She unlocked the door and pushed it open. She turned to face him.

“Thank you, Zach.” She reached up and touched his face. The brush of her hand on his cheek was so fleeting he thought he might have imagined it. The sudden heat on his face and the tight throat told him he hadn’t.

“No problem, Betsy.” The remark was intended to put distance between them. Her touch and his response to it caught him off-guard. They were still working on becoming friends, right? Nothing more. “I’ll let you know what the cops find out.” He’d do anything to pull her from the pit of angst she must be in. “You going to be all right?”

“I really just want to go into my house, lock the doors and not think about this right now.”

He understood all too well needing to block out everything.

She stepped inside and shut the door. He hurried back to his car. The best thing for dealing with his rage over what had happened to her was to do something. He pulled away from the curb and headed toward the police station.

He pulled his phone out. A text had come in from one of his fireman friends about a house fire. Let someone else get the story. He needed resolution for Elizabeth, or he wouldn’t be able to sleep either.

He dialed the personal number of the detective who would be handling the search at the golf course.

Glenn picked up on the second ring. “Zach.”

“Anything?”