Slade's Secret Son. Elizabeth August

sunglasses.”

      “It was just an impression.” The slender man defended himself.

      Further arguing between the two was cut short by the sound of approaching police and ambulance sirens.

      Slade was getting more and more uneasy by the moment as the crowd grew. “Stay back,” he ordered those approaching. “This is a crime scene.”

      “Yeah, he’s right.” The man who’d gotten part of the license plate spread his arms, forming a barrier, and eased people back.

      Opening the car door, Slade looked in at Lisa crouched low in the seat. “How do you feel? Do you need the paramedics to take a look at you?”

      “No. I’m just shaken, but I’m fine,” she assured him.

      “Good. The less exposure, the better.” Closing the door, he continued to rake the crowd with his gaze, looking for anyone who might pose a threat to Lisa.

      “What happened here?” one of the two patrolmen who had just arrived demanded, approaching Slade.

      “Someone tired to run my fiancée down,” he replied. His attention shifted to the paramedics who were coming on the run. “She doesn’t need medical attention.” Returning his gaze to the policeman, he added, “I think it would be best if I get her someplace sheltered.”

      The second of the two patrolmen eyed Slade skeptically. “You say you think someone purposely tried to run her down? Who?”

      “That I don’t know.”

      The skepticism on the patrolman’s face increased. “Why, then?”

      “We’re not clear on that point, either.”

      “Then what makes you think this wasn’t just some drunk driving erratically?”

      “Not too long ago someone shot her and nearly killed her. I think he was trying to finish the job today.”

      The policeman’s expression became less skeptical and more interested. “You say someone shot her?”

      Lisa had rolled down the window a crack to listen. “Contact Detective Overson,” she called. “He’s working on the case.”

      “I want to get her away from here as quickly as possible,” Slade said with command.

      The patrolman nodded. “If your suspicions are true, we’ll need some paint scrapings from your car and some photos of the scene. I’ll have Jack take you home. You want me to have the car towed somewhere afterward? Looks like the front fender might interfere with driving it.”

      Lisa gave him the name of her garage. Then with Slade hovering over her like a protective shield, she moved from her car to the police car. Once there, the patrolman contacted Detective Overson.

      “He’s on his way,” the dispatcher informed them after a couple of minutes.

      Detective Overson arrived fairly quickly, made a quick appraisal of the scene, then came to stand by the window of the patrol car to speak to Lisa. “Maybe you were the target the first time, but most likely not,” he said. “The feds are certain the sniper was a pro. This was definitely amateurish…” He paused then added, “If it even was an attempt on your life. Could have simply been a drunk driver.”

      “She’s nearly been killed twice and you want to write them both off as being in the wrong place at the wrong time?” Slade demanded.

      “I don’t intend to write either of them off. I was just mentioning the possibility.” Overson was an older man with graying hair, dark circles under his eyes and the look of someone who felt he carried the burden of the world on his shoulders. “Damn, if she was the original target this puts us back at square one.” His gaze focused on Lisa. “So who wants you dead?”

      She shook her head. “I have no idea.”

      “What cases are you working on?”

      Lisa shifted uneasily. “If I open my files to you, then I might as well close shop. People come to me because I’m supposed to be a private investigator.”

      The detective frowned impatiently. “We’re talking about your life.”

      “I know. But my clients aren’t going to talk openly to you. Besides, I checked their backgrounds before I accepted their cases. None of them has a criminal record. If I thought I knew which one it was or even had a suspicion, I’d tell you. But I don’t. Let me go through my files and I’ll get back to you.”

      Overson didn’t look pleased.

      “This isn’t a game,” Slade growled at her. “Turn your files over and let me take you someplace safe until this nut is caught.”

      “And what if he or she is never caught?” She looked to the detective. “How much time do you have to devote to my case?”

      “I’ve got a pretty heavy caseload,” Overson admitted. “But I’ll give it priority.”

      “For about a day or two,” she returned. “You’ll interview my clients, ruin my chances of ever getting another one, and probably come up with nothing. I’m a trained police officer. I was on the Lubbock force before I came here. The minute I even think I’ve got a whiff of a suspect, I’ll contact you.”

      “I don’t like it. I could get a court order. If someone is after you, you’re hindering my investigation.”

      “And I’ll tell the judge that you don’t even honestly believe someone is after me…that you’re invading my privacy and the privacy of my clients on a fishing expedition when you don’t even think there is a fish to be caught.”

      He didn’t refute her words. After a long moment he said, “We’ll collect what evidence we can here just in case someone is after you. As for the shooting incident, everything points to it being a mob hit. Truth is, we turned that investigation over to the federal task force. They wanted it and, like I said, we’re overworked as it is. But I’ll take another look at the evidence.”

      Slade wanted to insist that Lisa turn her files over to the police, but he knew from the look in her eyes that she was determined to investigate this herself. He also couldn’t fault her reasoning. The police would take a look, but if they couldn’t come up with a suspect right away, her case would go on the back burner.

      The detective started to walk away, hesitated, then returned. “In case I’m wrong and you’re right, you take care of yourself. Watch your back.”

      “I’ll be doing that,” Slade assured him.

      Overson nodded and walked away.

      Lisa sat quietly. She had her own plans for how to handle this situation, but this was not the time or place to confront Slade.

      “So who wants to kill you?” Slade asked as they were being driven away from the scene.

      Lisa gave him a wry look. “Don’t you think I would have told Detective Overson if I knew.”

      “As I recall, you were always a stickler for detail. Even if you had a suspicion, you’d wait until you had proof before you would name anyone. That was a dangerous game then and it’s a doubly dangerous game now.”

      “I have never liked putting innocent people on the hot seat.”

      “So you do have someone in mind?” he persisted, studying her narrowly.

      She breathed a frustrated sigh. “No. I honestly have no clue. I assume it has something to do with one of my cases, but none of them, on the surface, seems that volatile.”

      “No unhappy clients?”

      “Not really.”

      “Did you uncover some information for a client that might make someone else angry?”

      “Could be. There was a divorce case where I found some hidden assets, but that was several