twist underneath him, but his knees held her shoulders down as he sat on her back. Every other pain faded as he closed his hands around her neck and squeezed. And squeezed. Sarah stabbed at him with a key—he jerked the ring out of her fingers. She kicked with her heels, but his grip only tightened on her throat.
Weakening, she gasped, pleaded with no sound, fought the weight on her ribs and spine until a black fog clouded her vision.
And then she stopped fighting.
CHAPTER TWO
LONG PAST TIRED of his own company and fed up with self-pity, Luke checked in at the precinct station late on Sunday night.
“You’re the only cop I know who has hair like that.” Sergeant Baylor clapped him on the shoulder as they passed in the squad room. “Brennan, you’re a disgrace to the uniform.”
“The hair is the uniform, Sarge.” He pulled up a grin, poured a cup of coffee he didn’t need and propped a hip on the corner of a nearby desk. “Anything going on tonight?”
Nick Rushe, Luke’s partner and frequent handball opponent, leaned back in his chair. “Just the usual—drunks and rowdies, a lost kid at the boardwalk. Oh, and a mugging.”
“Yeah?”
“Not four blocks from here. Woman about to get into her car, guy knocks her down, takes her purse and what she was carrying. Beat her up pretty bad. Jordan’s taking the report.”
Luke glanced over at Hank Jordan’s desk. A woman huddled in the chair on the aisle, eyes downcast, her face almost completely hidden by the cloth she held to her cheek.
But he recognized that curling, golden-brown hair. The part of her face he could see seemed familiar. And when she looked up to answer a question, he recognized the long-lashed, hazel gaze. This was the woman on the beach yesterday afternoon, the one taking pictures. Sarah…Sarah…something.
He was standing over her before he realized he’d moved. “Are you okay?”
She lifted her head to gaze at him, eyes dark with fright and pain. Her lips parted, but she didn’t make a sound. When he put a hand over the one she held to her face, she flinched.
Luke squatted to look up at her. “Sarah? Sarah, it’s okay. I won’t hurt you. Can I see your face?”
She stared at him for a long time, and he thought she would refuse. Then her shoulders relaxed a fraction. She nodded, wincing, and allowed him to lift the cloth gently out of her hand.
He pulled in air through his teeth to avoid swearing. Between bruises and swelling and scrapes, the left side of her face was a mess. Luke let her put the cloth back against her skin. Her white T-shirt was torn and stained with dirt and blood, her knees nearly as battered as her cheek. “Have you seen a doctor?”
“She just walked in, if you can believe it.” Hank shook his head. “Looked like death then, so she’s gettin’ better.”
Jordan was a good cop, if a little too blunt. Luke bit back a reprimand. “Are you about finished here?”
“Yeah. I think she’s given me everything she can—which ain’t a hell of a lot. No motive, only one real contact in town, and no description. Big help.”
“We’ll work on it.” Luke stood up to his full height. “I’m going to take you to the hospital, Sarah, get a doctor to check you out.”
Again she shook her head, panic replacing pain in her eyes. “I don’t think—” she whispered.
“You’re safe with me.” He pulled his ID from his back pocket and opened it in front of her. “I should have explained—I’m a cop. My partner can go with us, if you’d feel better about it.” He nodded back toward Nick, who gave them a salute.
She seemed to wilt. “No. That’s okay.” When he put his hand under her elbow she stood and took a shaky step, then stopped. “Thank you,” she said to Hank, still in that hushed voice.
Flushing, Jordan waved her away. “No problem. You take care. We’ll get back to you if…when…we find something.”
Luke opened doors and warded off obstacles as they worked their way slowly through the station. He could tell the effort it cost Sarah to make the trip by the sigh she gave as she relaxed onto the seat of his truck. Without asking, he pulled the seat belt over her and clicked the latch shut.
She gave him a half smile as he got behind the wheel. “Thanks. I appreciate your help.”
The angle of her head and the light from the parking lot revealed what he hadn’t seen before—ugly maroon finger marks on her throat.
He couldn’t stifle a curse. “We’ll be there in a few minutes,” he said. Driving carefully, but fast, he flipped on the emergency flashers and accelerated into highway traffic.
A couple of hours later, the ER doctor came to find him. “No broken bones, no major damage. Abrasions, contusions, a couple of lacerations. She’ll be sore for a while.”
“He tried to strangle her.”
“Yes.” The doctor shook her head in disgust. “The swelling will keep her voice out of commission for a few days. Don’t let her talk too much.”
“Can you tell me anything else about the beating? Anything specific?”
“Besides the fact that the guy who hit her is a bastard?”
“Besides that.”
The doctor cocked an eyebrow. “She’s lucky he didn’t kill her.”
Luke found Sarah sitting on a cot in a cubicle toward the back of the emergency room, with her hands folded in her lap and bandages on the worst of her scrapes.
“Hi,” she whispered. Her wide eyes were less focused than before, but the pain and panic in them had receded.
“You’re not supposed to talk. Let’s get you out of here.” He helped her slide off the table, then braced her with his hands under her elbows as her knees buckled.
She gasped and caught at his arms. “They…they gave me a pill. I guess I’m not too steady.”
“No problem.” Luke put an arm around her waist. “I’ll take you home and make sure you’re settled.”
Sarah tried to pull away, though she didn’t make much progress. “I can get a cab. Really.”
“I don’t think so.” She looked prepared to argue, but Luke simply eased her toward the doors. “You don’t want to wait here another hour or two, do you? This isn’t New York—cabs don’t circulate in Myrtle Beach in the middle of the night.” Finally convinced, she leaned wearily against him. They stepped through the automatic doors into the cool summer dark.
“All we need now is—” He thought a second and stopped.
“My keys.” She closed her eyes. “But—”
“He
