sent a cursory glance down at the notes he had made. “So, did anyone else know what time you were leaving tonight?”
Tilting her head, Rebecca sucked her bottom lip into her mouth and chewed on it.
“I don’t know. It’s been on the schedule all week. Oh, I did tell one person—I was emailing Jess yesterday about something else, and mentioned that I’d be closing. She offered to have Seth drive me, but I told her I’d be okay.” She pushed back her hair and plowed through the rest. “He was waiting for me inside my car. Tried to choke me. I stabbed him in the eye and tried to escape. But he caught me again.”
Forcing herself to sign slowly and precisely, she described the attack.
“If you hadn’t shown up when you did, he would have gotten me.”
* * *
She could have died. Been kidnapped. Robbed. Beaten. Any number of horrible things could have happened to her.
Miles shoved away the anger that was burning in his gut, tamping it down so it wouldn’t show on his face. She’d been through a traumatic experience and he didn’t want to scare her.
He didn’t know the woman sitting next to him that well. She was close to Jess McGrath, now Jess Travis, and he knew that she and her family had helped Jess and Miles’s friend Seth when they’d been in danger last spring. Thankfully, the ordeal had had a happy ending, with Jess and Seth managing to unmask their attackers—while falling in love with each other in the process.
They’d gotten married not long ago, and Rebecca had been at the wedding, as had Miles. He had even been asked to interpret for her and several other guests who were deaf or hard of hearing, like Rebecca and Jess. He’d assumed, since her brother was Amish, that Rebecca must have been at one time. But he had never tried to find out more. He’d ignored the initial spark of attraction he had experienced when he’d first met her, when Jess had been under attack. It hadn’t been the appropriate time or place. Plus, he couldn’t afford to mess up another case with his rash actions.
By the time the case had been closed, he’d convinced himself it was best to keep his distance. Sure, he could have found where she lived, or asked Jess for a way to contact her. But he had let the opportunity slip away. And anyway, she hadn’t shown any interest in him.
No, he didn’t know her well, but it bothered him when a young woman was victimized. He needed to be careful. He’d let himself act upon his anger once before when involved in a case, and it had almost ruined his career. Even though that time it was personal. Very personal. Couldn’t fall into that trap again. He was still trying to get back into his chief’s good graces.
He asked her a few more questions, trying to get most of the details down while they were waiting.
Red and blue flashing lights caught his attention. A second police cruiser pulled up in front of his, then shifted back to parallel-park against the curb. Good. Jackson was here. And he hadn’t come in hot. Lights, but no siren. If the attacker was still hanging around, there was nothing to cue him that backup had arrived.
“Okay. Sergeant Jackson is here. I’ll have him start looking at your car while we finish this.”
Miles opened his door and stepped out. Turning to Rebecca, he paused and took in her wide blue eyes and troubled face. At least her cheeks seemed to have some color, and her trembling had ceased. She looked calmer. Actually, she looked beautiful. If he hadn’t met her previously, he would not have guessed her background, growing up Amish. Her skirt was long, but it was rust-colored with gold, brown and orange leaves on it. It was pretty on her. He pressed his lips together when his gaze fell on the rip at her knee. Her gold sweater was simple but elegant. Her pale hair was shorter than he remembered, ending just an inch or two below her shoulders. It made him think of summer, the way it shimmered gold.
What? That kind of thinking would get him nowhere.
“Olsen, what do ya know?” Gavin Jackson sauntered toward him. His voice was casual, friendly, but his gaze was in constant motion, sweeping the area for any threats. Keeping it concise, Miles brought him up to speed.
“Rebecca Miller? Hey, I remember her from Travis’s wedding. Cute little thing.” Jackson ducked down to wave at the girl sitting in the car. Miles frowned, not sure why it bothered him to see Jackson smiling at her. But it did.
“Okay, Casanova. Let’s process the scene.”
Jackson’s brows rose, but he made no comment about Miles telling a higher ranking officer what to do. Instead, the man shrugged and shifted back into cop mode.
Between the two of them, they managed to get the scene processed in a relatively short time. Miles kept a close eye on Rebecca. She had refused to sit in the car by herself. To be honest, he preferred having her where he could keep an eye on her. By herself, she wouldn’t be able to hear the attacker return. And even though having her accompany them meant she was out in the open, exposed to another attack, it was hardly likely that her assailant would come back with two officers so close.
When the paramedics arrived, Miles jogged over to interpret for her briefly. He knew the paramedic in charge, a serious blonde woman named Sydney.
Not surprisingly, Rebecca refused to go to the hospital. Sydney didn’t push the issue.
“There’s no bulging around the area. And your color looks good,” Sydney told her as Miles interpreted. “If you have any trouble breathing or opening your mouth, or if swallowing becomes painful, you need to go to the ER. Immediately.”
Rebecca nodded and thanked the woman.
Miles returned to Jackson.
Now they just needed to finish looking over the car, checking to be sure it hadn’t been sabotaged. It was a possibility. Even in the light of day, the alley behind the store was empty. Only businesses. And most of the businesses closed at five. Chances were good that anyone could damage the car without fear of getting caught.
Inside the car, there were no prints, no clues left behind. The attacker had been careful. Except that the back locks had been jimmied. Something was lying on the floorboard. Flashing a light in that direction, he saw Rebecca’s purse. It had been knocked over, the contents spilled everywhere. Why didn’t women use bags that zipped? Seeing her phone, he snatched it up and brought it to her.
“Do you have anyone you can call tonight? Someone to stay with you?”
She nodded. It bothered him to see her so pale and worn. Even her signs were lackluster. “My roommate will be home later. She works until ten. She usually arrives home around eleven.”
“Maybe send her a text. Let her know what happened so she’ll know to come straight home.” He handed her the phone, then left her while she composed the text.
“Pop the hood,” Jackson called, scooting out from his position under the car.
Miles jogged around to the driver’s side and leaned in to pull the lever. The hood released with a small click.
Jackson whistled.
“What?” Miles stepped up beside his colleague.
“Wow.”
The engine had been incapacitated, the spark plugs nowhere to be found. One thing was clear—whoever
