Silent Night Suspect. Sharee Stover

unmarked navy blue truck approached and parked on the other side of Trey’s K9 pickup, blocking Slade’s view of the driver.

      “Trooper, we need to go,” Hereford called.

      Slade sprinted to the ambulance, where Asia sat propped up and unrestrained on the stretcher. An IV line trailed from her wrist. “I’m fine,” she groused. “This is unnecessary.”

      The EMT grinned and stepped aside, giving Slade and Asia privacy. Slade leaned in and whispered, “It’s this or riding in the special visitor seat of a patrol car.”

      She pressed her lips into a flat line. “Point taken.”

      Slade walked toward Hereford. “I need to wrap a few things up with my sergeant. Can you give me two minutes? Will she be okay?”

      He nodded. “She’s lost a lot of blood but she’s stable. One minute.”

      “Thanks.” Slade returned to where Detective Kent Beardly now joined Oliver.

      Of all people, why had Oliver chosen him? Slade couldn’t work the crime scene, which was reasonable, but the last thing they needed was another hand in the mix. Beardly’s cop skills were decent, but he had all the finesse of a longhorn bull. Slade stood undecided between leaving Beardly to assume the investigation and accompanying Asia to the hospital.

      Beardly faced Slade with a clenched jaw, as if he’d interrupted an important meeting. “Mrs. Stratton’s claiming amnesia? A little cliché, don’t you think?”

      Had the man’s voice always been that gravelly? Agitation and defensiveness sent Slade’s hackles up. “It’s possible, but after the shoot-out we endured, it’s more than probable she’s telling the truth. Says she’s lost the past two days.” Slade kept Asia in view.

      Beardly tsked, shaking his head. “Haven’t seen her since the funeral. Heard she’d pretty much disappeared afterward. Not inconceivable she’s using like Zander.”

      Slade gritted his teeth, not wanting to participate in Beardly’s attempt at gossip.

      Thankfully, Oliver regained command of the conversation. “We haven’t assessed the scene yet. Asia’s obviously got enemies. She’s innocent until proven guilty. Jackson, provide her protective detail at the hospital.”

      “Sarge, with all due respect, Jackson’s too close to this.” Beardly slapped a palm on Slade’s shoulder. “No offense.”

      None taken, and no one asked you. Slade restrained the urge to swat Beardly’s hand away.

      The detective continued, “It’d be better to have an impartial party do the detail.”

      No way. If he had to do it incognito, Slade wasn’t letting Asia out of his sight. If she recovered her memory with the wrong people, she’d be dead for sure.

      “With all due respect,” he mimicked, “I’m without a car. Asia is claustrophobic, and I promised to ride with her. She trusts me.” Liar. “I’d like the detail.” Did he sound too eager?

      “Trooper, we need to get Mrs. Stratton to the hospital,” the taller paramedic said.

      “When she’s released, we’ll determine continued custody at that time. Jackson, go with Asia. Beardly, lead the investigation here,” Oliver asserted.

      Beardly squared his shoulders and puffed out his chest. “You can count on me, sir. No two-bit criminal goes after one of our blue family and gets away with it.”

      All the overexuberant detective needed now was to don a cape and leggings. Slade spun on his heel and sprinted for the ambulance.

      “If Mrs. Stratton remembers anything that might help us, contact me immediately,” Beardly called.

      Slade rolled his eyes, climbed into the rig and dropped onto the metal bench. Hereford sat across from them charting Asia’s vitals, while the other EMT took the driver’s seat. Within seconds, they rumbled off the property.

      They passed Oliver. He stood several feet away, gesturing with wide, emphatic movements to a new set of responding officers from multiple surrounding agencies. A call for an officer-involved shooting brought out everyone. Even with a tight perimeter and law enforcement presence, Slade doubted they’d catch the criminals. If only the team had arrived a few minutes sooner.

      Was Asia faking her selective amnesia? She’d been an angry, defensive woman, but she’d never been a liar. However, desperation motivated people to make foolish choices.

      “How’re you doing?” Slade broke the silence.

      Asia bit her lip. “Do you think any of this has to do with Zander?”

      Sure, now she wants to divulge in front of a stranger. Slade glanced at Hereford, who busied himself with paperwork. “I can’t help but consider the possibility of a connection.” He’d prefer not to have this conversation in the man’s company. Still, letting her talk might work better than interrogating her.

      Asia twirled the white sheet around her fingers, and the childlike motion reminded him of his two-year-old niece. “I haven’t asked for updates on his investigation since the funeral. I couldn’t deal with it, but I can’t hide from it anymore. Especially with this happening. I need to understand what’s going on. Have there been any leads in Zander’s case?” she asked.

      Slade leaned closer. She didn’t move away, and the momentary acceptance touched him. Maybe she’d forgive him someday—though he didn’t deserve it, and he’d never ask. He shifted under the weight of discussing the investigation. Memories of Zander’s crime scene and broken body sent an involuntary shiver up his spine. How much should he share? Struggling to find the right words, he determined to be honest while revealing only what was necessary. “There’s been no progress—”

      “Oh.” Asia fell back against the stretcher and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m so nauseous.”

      “You may have a concussion,” Hereford advised.

      “We’ll talk later. Just rest.” Slade reached for Asia’s arm, then retracted his hand. By the book and professional was the only way he could truly help her. Even if she never forgave him for Zander’s death.

      The swaying and bumping of the ambulance across the gravel roads worsened Asia’s nausea, swirling her stomach into knots. She leaned against the cool sheet covering the stretcher and closed her eyes while fisting the metal frame. Nothing relieved the dizziness. She swallowed hard and inhaled deeply to calm herself.

      A shiver crept up her spine at the recollection of Nevil Quenten’s lifeless black eyes. Lord, I need Your help. How do I prove I’m innocent when all they see is my guilt?

      And who could blame them? If she were on the outside looking in, she’d feel the same way. Except she was on the inside looking out, and she was no killer. Asia pressed her fingers against her forehead. The drumming in her brain intensified, and she squeezed her eyes tighter, concentrating on her prayers rather than the discomfort.

      The plethora of self-condemning questions continued to ravage her mind. Why hadn’t she run away when she’d come to? What possessed her to grab the gun? How stupid was she? Her train wreck of a life had spiraled out of control, and now her only hope of proving her innocence was to find Nevil Quenten’s real murderer. Would that also prove who had murdered Zander? They were obviously connected. But why drag her into it?

      Guilt hit her. Why had she asked about Zander’s case? The familiar juxtaposition of love and sorrow swirled in her memories of her deceased husband. In a short time, she’d gone through a full range of emotions from terror to humiliation. Was there any way off this crazy train?

      “Are you feeling better?”

      Asia opened her eyes and faced Slade. “I doubt that’ll happen