sagged back.
Bright flashes of colored light sparkled behind her eyelids. Shooting pain banished any thought of trying to stand. Escape was unthinkable.
Katerina felt as if she were falling into a bottomless abyss. Fog surrounded her, bearing her ever deeper into unconsciousness. Longing for release, she ceased to fight it. Rational thought fled.
The world, and her troubles, faded away.
* * *
Max stayed on at the Garwood Ranch to assist local authorities in searching for additional devices in the unaffected outbuildings and house after Katerina had been stabilized and transported in the ambulance. From what he could deduce from the damage, the explosion in the stable had packed a lighter punch than the others he’d recently investigated. Unfortunately, an ensuing fire had wiped out much of the evidence and what the flames didn’t consume, the firefighters’ high pressure hoses had dispersed.
By now the place was swarming with law enforcement, fire personnel and crime scene investigators. He was relieved that he and his K-9 had not discovered more bombs because a crowd like that was hard to safeguard.
When he reported to the incident commander, a fire department battalion chief, he brought Opal with him. “My dog and I have completed our search. All clear.”
“You sure?”
Max laid a hand gently on the boxer’s head and stroked between her ears. “Opal is positive. That’s good enough for me.”
“Okay. Thanks. I can’t believe you were already on scene when this happened. Is that some new FBI deduction technique that we haven’t heard of?”
Max chuckled. “Not hardly. I was here to follow up with the Garwoods regarding another case my team is working. What can you tell me about Vern Kowalski?”
“Not much.” The chief paused to radio instructions to an engine crew. “Pull down that west wall. I don’t want to see a rekindle and lose another barn.”
As soon as the man turned back to him Max asked, “Had you met Kowalski?”
“Briefly. The guy wanted to join our volunteers but he didn’t make the cut. Katerina seemed to like him, though.”
“I gathered, since she was going to marry him.”
“Yeah. I hope she’s gonna be okay. Nice girl. Her daddy’s a real piece of work, though. He was hard to get along with before he got elected mayor of South Fork. Now he’s impossible.”
“Any word on her condition?” Max asked, remembering her attempt to avoid treatment and her father’s unfeeling reaction to her condition. How could any parent see his child injured and just walk away?
“Not yet. We shipped her to the hospital in Mariposa. Paramedics said she could have a concussion. Hard to say without X-rays.”
“What became of Garwood? I know he was here for a while.” Max made a sour face. “He’s hard to ignore.”
“Yeah. Sheriff Tate took him off the property in a patrol car. They’re old buddies.”
“I see. Then I’ll talk to the Garwood I can find and head for Mariposa.” Max scanned the scene. “Just make sure your people bag and tag as many clues as possible. I’ll notify Quantico and have an agent pick up the evidence for processing.”
The chief didn’t look particularly pleased to share jurisdiction but didn’t argue. Instead, he nodded and returned to the smoldering wreckage.
Max was pouring fresh water into Opal’s bowl in the backseat as he checked in with Dylan at headquarters. “The ranch owner is AWOL at the moment so I’m going to follow up with the injured daughter, providing she’s conscious.”
“The one who was engaged to one of the men arrested in the Dupree sweep?”
“Yup. That’s the one.”
“Just watch your back,” Dylan cautioned. “I don’t care how idyllic it looks up there, you’re in more danger than a gold prospector defending himself against claim-jumpers back in ’49.”
Max had to smile. “I have Opal and a cell phone and radio, and I’m armed. I’m covered.”
“The dog will always work but don’t count on electronics if you get down in some of those deep valleys. Besides, the Duprees play rough.”
“I know. Thanks,” he said, ending the call and drawing his fingers down the ridge of the old scar remaining on his left cheek as he recalled the events originally surrounding that injury five years before. Max knew that nobody lived forever, but he simply could not accept the premature death of a child on his watch. Worse, he had unknowingly contributed to that disaster by trusting the boy’s father when the man vowed he’d cut all ties with the drug culture.
Clenching his jaw, he shoved aside the painful memory. If that senseless tragedy had taught him anything, it was to be far less gullible. No one had fooled him since, nor would they do so in the future. Criminal minds were devious in myriad ways. All he had to do was keep himself from accepting anything—or anybody—at face value without concrete proof of innocence.
Take the Garwoods, for example. The young woman he was on his way to see may have looked harmless but she was so unnaturally nervous he was having second thoughts about her. It was hard to attribute all that angst to a strained relationship with her father. Yes, the man was vindictive, but lots of people experienced difficult family situations without quaking in their boots. A more likely scenario was that Katerina knew about the bomb and had miscalculated the timing.
The worst kinds of criminals were the ones who were able to fake innocence so well. Katerina might have fooled the firefighter he’d spoken with but Max would not be as naive. He had not risen to a command position on his team by letting himself be tricked by pretty faces or sweet smiles.
He didn’t care if the whole world thought he was inflexible and opinionated. He did his job. And he never lost focus. Not anymore.
* * *
Katerina was exhausted. She’d been poked, prodded, x-rayed and scanned. All she wanted to do at the moment was sleep despite the nurses who kept coming into her room and waking her to check her vitals.
The door to the hospital room made a swooshing sound as it opened. She squeezed her eyes shut against the bright overhead lighting. “I’m awake. Please let me rest.”
The ceiling-mounted curtain was pulled to isolate her bed. Someone’s latex-covered hand clamped hard over her mouth and she tasted fresh blood from the cut on her lip. Tightening her muscles sent pulses of pain shooting through Katerina’s battered back. She tore at the glove and tried to see who was attacking her but a ski mask covered his features. A harshly whispered warning came next, “Stop fighting.” She tried. Panic argued against it. All she could manage was to hold a little more still after he planted a heavy arm across her chest.
“Don’t scream.”
Although she managed a weak nod she was not agreeing. This was a busy hospital. If she could manage to shout, even once, help was bound to arrive. Hopefully, it would be enough for a rescue.
The
