Beneath the Badge. Rita Herron

and lungs. Thankfully all the tests were clear.

      Other than nearly dying tonight, she was healthy.

      Still, they’d hooked her up to an IV, checked her vitals, then the nurse offered her a sedative. But Taylor expected Sergeant Keller to show up any minute to question her, and she wanted to be coherent.

      Besides, she avoided taking pills or medications unless it was absolutely necessary. Too many people she’d met at parties relied on drugs or alcohol for recreation and survival, and she was determined not to fall into that dangerous lifestyle so often portrayed in the tabloids as the rich and careless.

      Still, fatigue pulled at her, and she finally dozed off. But nightmares of the attack haunted her, and she tossed and turned, battling the terrifying memories.

      She was running, fighting, struggling for air, being pushed under the water, held down…drowning.

      She woke, gasping for air, her heart racing. Gray had settled over the room like a fog, the sound of someone breathing echoing in the quiet. Panic shot through her.

      Oh, God, her attacker had come here to finish killing her.

      She threw off the covers to run, but suddenly two firm hands gripped her arms. “Shh, Taylor, it’s me. Hayes.”

      She was just about to scream, but the sound of his husky voice registered, and she stifled a sob.

      “I didn’t mean to scare you, but you were sleeping.”

      She relaxed against him, but her heart was still pounding. “I was dreaming about the attack….”

      He smoothed her hair from her cheek, then eased down onto the edge of the bed. “It’s over now. You’re safe.”

      She nodded and forced herself to block out the terrifying images from her nightmare. Despite her efforts, her hand went to her throat.

      “You didn’t find him at the house?” she asked.

      He shook his head, and she noticed he was wearing the same jeans and shirt he had on when he’d pulled her from the pool. They were still damp, and he must be uncomfortable, but he didn’t seem to notice.

      “Your assailant caused the power outage by tampering with the circuit breakers, but I didn’t find anyone inside. CSI is dusting for prints and searching both the inside and outside, as well, for footprints, fibers, anything that might help us identify him.”

      “He didn’t steal anything?”

      “Not that I could tell. But you’ll need to inventory your valuables, jewelry, etcetera, to verify if anything is missing.”

      “I’ll do that tomorrow when I get home.”

      He gave a clipped nod. “The desk in your office had been ransacked. Do you have any idea what the intruder might have been looking for?”

      She shook her head. “Maybe financial information on the foundation?”

      “It’s possible. You should examine your files and follow up on any credit cards.”

      She bit her lip. “Yes, I will.”

      “I left a guard at the house overnight in case he returns or someone else shows up.”

      “Thank you, Sergeant.”

      “You can call me Hayes.” He hesitated, then his gaze zeroed in on her nails. “Your nails are real?”

      She nodded. “Why?”

      “I found a broken red nail, looked like an acrylic, inside your house.”

      She frowned. “I often have guests over, females. It could have come from any one of them.”

      “You’re sure your attacker was male?”

      His question threw her off guard. “I think so.”

      “I also found a blond hair caught in a twig in the tree by the garden.”

      She rubbed her temple. “I have parties out there, too. It could belong to anyone.”

      “I’ll see what forensics says.” He paused. “Can you talk about the attack now?”

      She propped herself up against the pillows. “I told you what happened already.”

      “Indulge me and go over it again. Sometimes the passage of time allows victims to remember more details.”

      She sighed, hating to rehash the night but knowing it was imperative. “Okay. I got home around ten, but I was restless, antsy after all that’s happened in the neighborhood lately.” In fact, she hadn’t slept well since Kimberly McQuade had died. If she hadn’t hosted the party that night, maybe the young woman would still be alive.

      She glanced at Hayes, suddenly realizing that he probably felt the same way, probably blamed her.

      “Go on,” he said sharply.

      She cleared her throat; it was still so dry it hurt to talk. “I couldn’t sleep, so I checked the alarm and changed into my swimsuit. Then I went for a swim.”

      “Had you been drinking?”

      Irritation gnawed at her. “I had a glass of wine with dinner, but I wasn’t drunk if that’s what you’re implying.”

      “You usually swim alone at night?”

      She tensed at the scrutiny in his tone. Did he think she was being stupid, that she’d brought the attack on herself? “Sometimes,” she said truthfully. “I’m a good swimmer, and I had the security system set.” She glared at him. “Besides, I thought you rangers had caught the killer and that I was safe.”

      A muscle ticked in his jaw, and she knew she’d scored a direct hit.

      “Your attack may or may not be related to the other crimes,” he said sharply. “You’re wealthy, everyone knows that. You must have some enemies.”

      She tore her gaze away with a shiver. If he’d meant to scare her, he had.

      “Were the lights on when you came out by the pool?”

      “Yes, Sergeant. I would have called security if they hadn’t been.”

      He simply arched a dark brow, his expression cold and hard, and she silently willed herself to stop reacting. What did she care what Hayes Keller thought of her?

      When she continued, she tried to relay the events as if it had happened to a stranger, not to her. “I was swimming laps when the power flickered off. I got nervous, decided to see what caused the outage, then I saw a movement by the gardens. I got out and ran toward the door…Before I reached it, the man jumped me from behind.” She paused, unable to breathe for a moment as she remembered his fingers around her throat.

      Again, the ranger stared at her with an intensity that made her more nervous.

      She could not break down in front of the man again. “We struggled and he tried to strangle me, then we fell into the pool.”

      “He fell into the pool with you?”

      “Yes. I fought him, but he kept choking me, then pushed me underwater and held me down.”

      He made a low sound with his teeth. “That’s probably the reason he turned on the water hose, to wash away his prints. But I’ll have the pool dragged for trace.” He paused. “You said you were a swimmer?”

      “Yes, high-school swim team. I set the record for holding my breath the longest on my team.”

      “That’s probably what saved you.”

      “No, Sergeant Keller, you saved me,” she said with a tentative smile. “If you hadn’t shown up when you had…”

      He glanced away for the first time, his jaw clenched tight, then shrugged. “Just doing my job, ma’am.”

      She didn’t