police going in and out of the building. When Kat didn’t answer, she stuffed her phone back into her handbag and scrambled from her car.
Her pace, matching her pounding heartbeat, quickened with each step she took toward the barricade. She fought her way through the throng, praying everyone was all right, especially Kat and Ben. They were her only family. Her sister was the one who rescued her when she started down the wrong path. She owed her so much.
She reached the cordoned-off area and ducked under the barrier. A police officer immediately confronted her. “Ma’am, you aren’t supposed to be here. Please stay behind the barricade.”
“I work here. What happened? Is everyone all right?”
“Who are you?”
“Sierra Walker. I’m the office manager, and my sister, Dr. Markham, works here, too.”
“Can I see some identification?”
With trembling hands Sierra dug into her purse and presented her wallet with her driver’s license.
“Come this way.”
As she walked beside the officer, she scanned the scene and realized that something really bad had happened for this kind of all-out response and interest from bystanders. The nearer she came to the entrance, the more distress wrapped around her and squeezed the breath from her lungs, making her chest hurt.
The officer stopped while a gurney with a closed body bag was wheeled from the building.
“Please tell me if my sister and her son are okay.” She didn’t know how the words passed her tight throat.
He didn’t answer but continued to make his way into the clinic as the gurney was rolled toward a waiting vehicle. Sweat popped out on Sierra’s forehead in spite of the cold weather. The stench assailed her senses as she moved farther inside. Her stomach roiled.
When the sight of a body’s shape taped on the bloodstained floor by the Christmas tree across from the receptionist’s desk transfixed Sierra, she stopped as though frozen in place. Who was dead? Mindy, the receptionist? Mindy was one of her best friends. They often shared lunch here at the clinic or the café across the street. Then Sierra thought of all the other people she worked with who could be on that gurney, and her heart broke into pieces.
The officer glanced back. “I’m taking you to someone who can answer your questions.”
She heard the words he said, but they seemed to come to her as if she were in a long tunnel and he was at the other end.
“Ma’am, are you okay?”
Sierra closed her eyes for a few seconds, and when she opened them again, a man over six feet tall, dressed in a long-sleeve white shirt, with a blue tie, an off-white cowboy hat and tan pants, headed toward her. Her focus latched onto the circular star badge he wore slightly to the left, over his heart. A Texas Ranger—which usually meant not a routine crime.
The Texas Ranger with deep green eyes and dark brown hair held out his arm. “Sierra Walker?”
She shook his hand. “Yes. What has happened here?” Her voice quavered, and she swallowed hard, trying to prepare herself for the worst—Mindy was in the body bag.
“There’s no good way to say this. A shooter came to the clinic right before it opened and shot everyone who was here. Is Dr. Kathleen Markham your sister? That’s what the officer said.”
Fear froze her lungs. “Yes. Is she hurt bad?” Please don’t let her be the person in the body bag.
“I’m Texas Ranger Taylor Blackburn. Let’s go in here.” He motioned toward a room behind the receptionist desk.
Part of the area was partitioned for her workplace. “My office is back there.” Moving forward, Sierra made the mistake of glancing down the main hallway, and when her eyes lit on a male body by the back door, she stumbled.
A hand grasped her arm, and the Texas Ranger stopped her from falling. Heat flushed her cheeks. “I wasn’t expecting that. Who is it? Dr. Porter?”
He looked down at her. “Yes, it’s him.”
She stared into those green eyes, and in that moment, she knew no one survived the mass shooting. Kathleen! Ben! Mindy and the others. Tears sprang into her eyes and blurred her vision. “Is my sister’s body still here?”
“No. It was the first one removed. Let’s go to your office.” He gestured to the room filled with file cabinets.
Sierra nodded. As she made her way there, she averted her face and wiped the wet tracks from her cheeks. She couldn’t even bring herself to ask about Ben. She’d helped raise her seven-year-old nephew since he was born, especially while Kathleen was a resident with long hours then when she started the clinic. For his first few years, Sierra’s life had revolved around him.
As Texas Ranger Blackburn closed the door, she leaned against her desk to help support her. A huge lump clogged her throat, and she gulped—several times—before she felt she could ask him the question she’d never thought she would say. “My nephew, Ben, was here with his mom. Is he—”
The Texas Ranger closed the space between them, his green eyes softening. “Ben is the only person who survived.”
At first, she thought she hadn’t heard correctly. She started to question him, but his look of compassion gave her hope. “How?”
“He hid in a cupboard in your sister’s office. Most likely the shooter didn’t know he was there.”
Opposite emotions—happiness for Ben and a deep sadness for Kat—assailed her. She shut her eyes and tried to compose her thoughts. “Where is he? Can I see him?”
“Soon. First, you and I need to talk.”
“But he has to be frightened. What has he said?”
“Nothing. Since I took him from the cupboard, he hasn’t cried or said anything.”
“He’s in shock.”
“Yes, and we have someone with him right now.” He gestured toward a chair nearby. “Sit. Let’s talk. The child psychologist I called will be through soon.”
Everything around Sierra vanished, and all she saw was the law enforcement officer, taking a seat across from her. How had she ended up sitting down? She didn’t even remember doing that. She had to be dreaming. Any moment she would wake up and see Kathleen and Ben.
“Ms. Walker, are you okay?” Concern laced the Texas Ranger’s deep voice.
She blinked, and reality zoomed into focus. “No. What do you want to ask me? I want to be with Ben as soon as possible. He has to feel...” As numb and lost as I am?
“Were you at the clinic at any time this morning?”
“No. I left our house and went right to an eight o’clock meeting with the clinic’s accounting firm. The meeting was over at ten thirty, and I came straight here.”
“What’s the name of the accounting firm?”
