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  At the very least, his willingness to listen to them had gotten him the text that had him now driving through the city as fast as he safely could.

  Jon parked at the closest nonemergency spot he could find at Memorial and jogged to the sliding glass of the emergency entrance door, ignoring the muggy heat that was so unlike the weather in his home state of Colorado. He pulled out his credentials to show the nurse at the front desk, explaining who he was here to see. He was glad when he saw Sara Beth Carreker, the head nurse who had worked in Emergency for years, walk up. Jon had talked to her a few days ago, also, since all the victims had been brought to Memorial’s Emergency Trauma Center.

  Nurse Carreker’s nod was brisk. “I’ll show you back there myself. The patient has been moved into one of the private trauma care rooms.” Her lips pinched together.

  “I take it that’s a bad sign?”

  The nurse glanced at him as they walked down the hall. “Medically, it’s pretty neutral. Just my opinion, of course. You’ll have to ask the doctor for a professional statement.” The older woman’s eyes argued that she had seen more and probably knew more than a lot of the young doctors around here.

  “So, physically she’ll recover. That’s not why she’s in the room.” Jon’s words weren’t questions.

  “Yes.” Nurse Carreker nodded as they turned a corner. “Emotionally that woman needs as much privacy as she can get.”

  “Anything you can tell me about her?”

  “Young. A local. African-American this time, so that’s a little different. But the same type of bruising and craniofacial trauma.”

  A black female. Jon’s jaw clenched. The demographic pattern of the women who had been attacked was widely varied, almost unheard of in a serial rapist. It was one of the reasons Corpus Christi PD had resisted asking for any federal help. Since serial rapists usually had a set type of woman they attacked, the department hadn’t thought the perpetrator was just one person.

  Nurse Carreker stopped halfway down the hall. “Agent Hatton, y’all try to remember that this isn’t a case to that woman. Her whole world has just been destroyed.”

  Y’all? Just because Jon didn’t use the word didn’t mean he didn’t know what it meant. How many people were here besides him? “Okay, thank you.”

  The nurse patted him on the arm and left. Jon turned back toward the victim’s room. At least half a dozen of Corpus Christi’s finest were standing around outside the victim’s door. They alternated between glaring at and completely ignoring him as he approached.

  Damn, this was going to be a long afternoon.

  Chapter Two

  Jon noticed that Zane Wales, the detective he’d been working most closely with—closely being a very relative term—was busy cross-referencing something on his smartphone with a file in his hands. The younger man made it a point not to make eye contact. Wales should’ve been the one who had called or texted Jon, not the paramedic.

  Jon tamped down his frustration. This wasn’t the time or place to get into it with Wales again. Especially because he knew the captain at the local police department all but applauded Wales’s attitude. He encouraged any and all negative attitudes toward Jon.

  “Hatton,” Wales said neutrally in greeting. The man actually wore a cowboy hat all the time. Since they were in Texas that shouldn’t surprise Jon, but it was still a little unsettling.

  “Wales.” Jon raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything further.

  “Doctor’s with the victim, so no one can go in yet.” Wales put himself between the door and Jon as if Jon were going to barge his way in. Jon barely restrained himself from rolling his eyes.

  He looked over at the uniformed officers milling around, half a dozen of them, all male. They all wanted to be here, be somewhere nearby so they could help if needed. While Jon appreciated the gesture, they had to leave.

  He turned back to Wales. “A little crowded out here, don’t you think, for a woman who’s just been brutally attacked?”

  Wales looked a little surprised that Jon had said something reasonable. Probably had expected him to pick a fight about not being notified.

  “Actually, I agree,” Wales said. “The last thing that woman is going to want or need is a bunch of people—men especially, probably—out here hanging around.”

  The detective’s statement reassured Jon on multiple levels. First, he had already been aware of the problem before Jon even pointed it out and would’ve handled it himself soon, hopefully. Second, Wales might not like him or the fact that he had been assigned to the case, but at least he wasn’t going to do something potentially case-damaging such as keep a bunch of unnecessary people there just to spite Jon. The victim was Wales’s priority.

  So cowboy hat notwithstanding—the jury was definitely still out on that—the young detective had just proved himself to be at least competent and focused.

  Jon backed out of the way as Wales went to talk to the uniformed officers and dismiss them. He could hear him reassure the men that they personally would be the first ones called if anything could be done for the victim or if any further help was needed. He was glad to see Wales wasn’t a jerk in general.

  Just with him, evidently.

  After the uniforms left, Wales made his way over to Jon. Both knew it could be some time before they were able to talk to the victim, depending on the extent of the physical and emotional trauma. But sooner was definitely better, while everything was, unfortunately, still fresh in the victim’s mind.

  They’d have to wait until the doctor came out to give them more information.

  “Do we know anything about the victim?” Jon gave it about a fifty-fifty chance that the detective would be forthcoming with information.

  Wales hesitated but then responded.

  “Vic’s name is Jasmine Houze. She’s twenty-seven, not married, lives on Mustang Island, which is out near the beach. Works for Flint Hill Resources, an oil company.”

  Corpus Christi, in Jon’s opinion, was a city with an identity crisis: part touristy beach town, part oil/shipping industry. Both businesses seemed to vie for what the city would be known for. There were lovely beaches, but if you wandered too far from them you were right in the middle of oil industry with their buildings and warehouses and machinery. So you had all types of people in the city’s makeup.

  “Nurse said there was similar craniofacial trauma?” Jon asked.

  “I haven’t seen her yet or any medical records to confirm,” Zane Wales responded. “But, yeah, I understand that’s the case.”

  The extent of the woman’s wounds would determine a lot, such as how soon they could question her and to what degree she would be able to coherently remember facts.

  It was a full hour later before the doctor, a female, and two female nurses came out. The doctor closed the door behind her in a way that suggested no one would be entering soon.

  “Gentlemen,” the doctor said in greeting.

  “How is she, Dr. Rosemont?” Wales asked. “Is it possible for us to speak with her?”

  Jon stayed a half step back. It was better for local detectives to take the lead in these types of cases, he knew from experience. He would only jump in if necessary.

  Although the nurses left to complete their other duties, the doctor positioned herself even more solidly in front of the door.

  “As I’m sure you can imagine, Ms. Houze is in a delicate state right now, both physically and emotionally.” The doctor crossed her arms over her chest.

  Jon was glad to see Wales nodding, taking seriously what the doctor was saying. It was important to talk to Ms. Houze, but it was also important to remember that this was the worst day of her entire life.

  “We understand,” Wales said. “And we want to be sensitive to the situation. But talking to her soon is important, if medically possible.” />
  “Ms. Houze has significant bruising to her face and jaw. The rapist struck her a half-dozen times in rapid succession to stun her. She’ll have no permanent damage from those blows, but both her eyes are currently swollen shut.”

  That was undoubtedly what the attacker had intended, so the victim wouldn’t be able to identify him. Jon grimaced. The same thing had happened in the other cases. As a matter of fact, the facial abuse was what had helped alert them to the fact that this was the work of a single man.

  “Do you think she’ll be willing to talk with us?” Wales asked her.

  “I definitely don’t think she’s interested in surrounding herself with men right now, so only one of you, and that may not work at all.” Dr. Rosemont shrugged.

  “Then I’ll be handling that, boys.” The drawl came from behind them.

  Jon turned the find the last person he would send into a room with a woman who had been victimized. Senior detective Frank Spangler.

  Unlike Wales, who might not like Jon personally, but at least showed promise as a detective, Frank Spangler was the epitome of everything that could be considered bad about law enforcement.

  The man had been wearing a badge for too long. He had lost touch with what was most important about his career: namely that he was supposed to serve the people. Spangler was smug and crass and definitely not the person best suited to question a woman who’d just been viciously attacked.

  Unfortunately, Detective Spangler was not only the ranking detective, but he was also the Nueces County forensic artist. The only one. Jon had already checked.

  Jon had seen Spangler’s composite drawings for other cases and had to admit the man had some skill with a pencil. But for the current case, none of the victims had seen the rapist’s face. They’d all been hit so hard, so quickly, that they’d been completely disoriented and unable to get a clear view before their attacker had pushed them down. So even if Spangler had some drawing talent, gathering any usable intel from the victims hadn’t been possible.

  But maybe Ms. Houze was different. They had to try.

  Dr. Rosemont nodded at the older detective. “That’s fine. But under no circumstances are you all to barge in on her at once. My word is law around here, gentlemen. Remember that. Door open at all times and if Ms. Houze says she’s had enough, you’re to leave immediately.”

  Jon and Zane both nodded at the doctor. Frank Spangler just gave her a patronizing smile. Her lips pursed.

  “I’ll check with her and be right out.” The doctor knocked softly on the door and made her way inside.

  Caroline Gill, the paramedic who had sent Jon the text alerting him of the new victim, joined them in the hallway.

  “Hi, Jon. Hey, Zane,” Caroline said. She smiled at Jon. But her eyes, he realized, were only for Zane. The detective, on the other hand, didn’t really seem to notice the pretty paramedic.

  He barely glanced at her from where he was looking over a file in his hand. “Hey, Caroline.”

  “I’m just getting off work and waiting on my ride.”

  “Where’s your car?” Jon asked her since Zane seemed oblivious that Caroline was here to see him.

  “A friend from college is in town and is going to pick me up in a few minutes so we can go to dinner. She dropped me off for my shift this morning so I wouldn’t have to find parking.”

  Wales nodded without even looking up from his file. Caroline’s face was a little crestfallen at his behavior.

  “Hey, thanks for the text,” Jon said to her to change the subject.

  Zane looked up sharply at that. He had probably wondered how Jon had gotten here so fast. Well, now he knew.

  “Really?” Zane asked Caroline.

  Caroline turned toward him and put her hands on her hips. “You know for a detective, Zane Wales, sometimes you’re pretty obtuse. So, yeah, really.”

  Jon swallowed his chuckle.

  Frank Spangler cleared his throat and began sorting through items in his briefcase, pulling out some drawing materials. “I doubt this victim will have kept her wits about her any more than any of the others. But here’s to hoping.”

  Jon grimaced and heard Caroline’s gasp. Zane’s level of obtuse was nothing compared to Frank Spangler’s.

  “You sure that’s the right attitude to go in there with?” Jon asked Spangler. “I’m pretty sure being told she should’ve kept her wits about her as she was being attacked is not the best way to start an interview.”

  “Look, I was doing this job before you were in training pants.” Spangler sneered at Jon. “I’m not going to say that to her, of course. You just stay out and let me work.”

  It didn’t matter if Spangler was going to say it or not. He thought it. That was bad enough.

  But unless the older man did something illegal or to outright jeopardize the case, there wasn’t anything Jon could do. Corpus Christi had been forced to allow him here and give him access to all the information, but it was still their case. From experience, Jon knew that allowing them to handle as much as possible was best in the long run for both the department and the community.

  But listening to Spangler’s idiocy still wasn’t easy. Caroline looked as though she was about to let Spangler have it when the doctor came out the door again.

  “Ms. Houze has agreed to see you—one of you, like I said. I have suggested she limit the time you’re in there to fifteen minutes. She has family on their way. She needs them right now.”

  “Yeah, well, I would think she would want us to catch the person who did this,” Spangler muttered.

  “Fifteen minutes, Detective. Tops. I’ll be back then.” Dr. Rosemont made her way down the hall.

  The older officer wasted no time going in, sketch pad and pencil in hand.

  “That man is a Grade-A jerk,” Caroline snapped.

  Jon couldn’t agree more.

  Zane didn’t even disagree. “Fortunately he’s only a year from retiring. Plus he’s pretty good with composite drawing.” The detective shrugged.

  They could hear Spangler inside talking to the victim. He’d at least started the conversation by offering appropriate condolences for what had happened. Jon was distracted from listening by the woman who had walked silently down the hall and was now speaking to Caroline.

  Blond hair with gentle waves that fell past her shoulders. Slender—almost too slender. A little taller than average height, maybe five foot eight in her knee-length skirt and brown cowboy boots. As with cowboy hats, Jon had never been one for boots, but he could already feel his opinion changing about that. This woman’s brown, well-worn ones made it difficult for him to tear his attention from her legs.

  Her legs were gorgeous. She was gorgeous.

  This must be the friend from college the paramedic had mentioned. Caroline walked over with her to where he and Zane were standing.

  “Zane, Jon, this is my friend Sherry Mitchell. She’s visiting Corpus Christi for a couple of weeks,” Caroline told them.

  Jon shook Sherry’s hand and immediately noticed she was distracted. Her eyes kept darting to the room where Spangler was talking to the victim.

  Maybe because it was starting to get a little louder in there.

  “Look, I’m your best bet in us apprehending the man who raped you. Do you really want to rest more than you want to catch this guy?” Spangler’s voice could be heard clearly.

  All the color seemed to seep out of Sherry’s face.

  “Look, don’t cry, for heaven’s sake.” Spangler continued, his distaste obvious. “I’m a forensic artist. Just tell me what you saw.”

  “I didn’t see anything.” Jasmine Houze’s voice was soft, slurred, probably from the swelling of her face. “I didn’t see him. He hit me and then...and then... I’m sorry.” Her crying became louder.

  “Nothing?” Spangler
demanded. “Nothing at all? Do you not want to catch him? Is that it?”

  “Oh, my God,” Sherry whispered.

  “I’m going in there,” Jon said to Zane. “I don’t care if Spangler is the ranking officer or not. This has to stop.”

  “I’m right behind you,” Zane agreed.

  “No.” It was Sherry who spoke. “That woman does not need more men barging in on her and fighting.”

  Caroline nodded. “She’s right. I’ll go in. I, at least, have already met her, since Michael and I brought her in this morning. You guys go get the doctor.”

  “I’m going with you,” Zane said to Caroline. “You know Spangler won’t listen to you. He won’t listen to Hatton, either.”

  “Well, for God’s sake, shut him up,” Jon said. “I’m going to get the doctor.”

  Sherry had just backed away against the wall. Jon didn’t blame her. He’d stay out of this mess, too, if he was her. But she had lost all color and was shivering.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, touching her gently on the upper arm.

  She nodded without answering, her eyes still drawn toward the victim’s room.

  Caroline and Zane had already entered. Jon could hear Caroline talking softly to the woman.

  Jon looked at Sherry again. “Are you sure you’re okay?” He didn’t want her to collapse.

  “I’m fine,” she said. It looked as though her teeth were about to start chattering, but he knew that couldn’t be right; it wasn’t nearly cold enough in here.

  Sherry cocked her head toward the nurses’ station. “Just go.”

  Jon took off running down the hallway to find Dr. Rosemont or Nurse Carreker. Either of them would help put an end to this without damaging Jasmine Houze’s psyche further.

  He found them both just moments later. Neither woman wasted time and the three of them were soon sprinting down the hallway toward the victim’s room, Jon explaining as they ran.

  The doctor and nurse, along with Caroline, distracted and comforted Ms. Houze as Jon and Zane both each grabbed one of Frank Spangler’s arms.