Hostage At Hawk's Landing. Rita Herron

clung to Dex, the two of them hovering low until a few seconds later, the sound of an engine rent the air. The black sedan in the back parking lot shot around the side of the building, roared past, then flew onto the street.

      Dex jumped up and gave chase, firing at the car’s tires, but the vehicle screeched forward and disappeared.

      Melissa stood on shaky legs as Dex ran back to her. “Are you all right?” he asked breathlessly.

      She nodded, the realization that she’d been involved in two shootings in two days sending shock waves through her. “Are you?”

      “Yeah.” He removed his Stetson, scrubbed a hand through his shaggy hair, then set the hat back on his head with a grunt. “I couldn’t get the license plate.”

      “What’s going on?” Melissa asked, trying to piece together what had happened.

      “I don’t know, but I’m damn well going to find out.” He wiggled the doorknob on the front door, and the door squeaked open.

      As soon as they entered, Melissa could see that the office had been ransacked. The space consisted of a small entryway with a desk and a door leading to the back. Through the doors, they found the main office, a large space with an oversize metal desk, filing cabinet and rolling desk chair. The filing cabinet drawers stood open, papers were scattered all over the desk and floor as if files had just been dumped, and the space on the desk where a computer should have been was empty.

      “Either he had his laptop with him or someone took it,” Dex mumbled.

      Melissa scanned the disheveled room. “What do you think they were looking for?”

      Dex shrugged. “Who knows? Something to do with one of his investigations.”

      “You think it was the person who hired him to find Jim Smith?”

      “That’s possible. With McTruitt dead at Smith’s hands, whoever that was might not want his name to come out.”

      “Or his motive,” Melissa said. “Do you think McTruitt was sent to kill Jim?”

      Dex’s dark gaze met hers. “Maybe. If he had a file on Smith here, that would help.” Dex walked over to the desk, pulled on a pair of gloves and started rummaging through the scattered papers.

      Melissa shifted, but stooped down on the floor to help search. He tossed her a pair of latex gloves, and she yanked them on. The fact that the person shooting at them might have already found that information and taken it was a real possibility.

      But maybe they’d interrupted the intruder before he’d found it, and she and Dex would turn up something helpful.

      * * *

      DEX GRITTED HIS TEETH. He should call Lamar, but first he wanted to look around. He scoured through the papers on the desk, searching for any signs of suspicious activity, specifically anything with Jim Smith’s name on it or notes referencing the reason McTruitt was looking for Smith—and why he’d held Melissa at gunpoint to get to him.

      According to Melissa, Smith hadn’t pulled a gun on McTruitt. It was the other way around, which meant that McTruitt either thought Smith was dangerous, or whoever had hired McTruitt to find Smith wanted him badly enough to tell him to use force.

      Or...what if he’d been hired to kill Smith?

      Ordering a hit would mean someone had motive.

      There were pages of notes on old jobs, mostly cheating spouses, a couple of runaway teens, a case of a stolen dog, and other miscellaneous cases, nothing big or criminal.

      “Do you see anything?” Melissa asked.

      “Nothing on Smith. You?”

      She shook her head and stood, then walked over to the wall and studied a photograph of McTruitt with a group of fishing buddies. Dex glanced at it, then strode to the filing cabinet and shuffled through the files.

      The man may have had a computer, but he kept files alphabetized old-school style, with scribbled handwritten notes inside. Again, nothing on Smith.

      On a whim, he checked the H section, hoping that the man had information on his father, but no file for Hawk. He started to close the file cabinet drawer, but a business card was stuck in the edge, so he yanked it out.

      It was a card for a cattle auction site run by a rancher named Vance Baxter. Dex frowned. He’d heard of Baxter. The man’s business was booming. He worked with an expert breeder to raise prize studs.

      He wondered why McTruitt had the card in his file, but didn’t see how it related to Smith or his own father. Still, he jammed it in his pocket.

      Time to call Lamar and tell him about the shooting.

      “We’d better step outside.” Dex took Melissa’s arm. “I have to report this to the police. I don’t want him to know we were snooping around in here.”

      Melissa nodded. “You and Detective Lamar are friends?”

      Dex shrugged. “He took me under his wing a few years ago. Since then, he’s thrown a few cases my way when he hit a dead end and manpower on the force was spread thin.”

      Melissa frowned.

      “You don’t like him, do you?” Dex asked.

      Melissa shrugged. “I guess I’m not as trusting of cops as some.”

      He narrowed his eyes. “Bad experience from the shelter?”

      “And growing up.” A haunted look passed through her eyes, but she clammed up. Dex wanted to ask more, but Lamar answered the call.

      “I came out to McTruitt’s office,” Dex said. “Someone was here and ransacked the place, and they shot at me and Melissa.”

      Lamar exploded with a string of expletives. “I’ll be right there. And for God’s sake, don’t touch anything, Dex.”

      Dex bit back a smile. “Of course not, Lamar. We’re waiting outside.”

      Melissa was watching him with avid curiosity when he hung up. “You don’t trust him?”

      “I didn’t say that,” Dex said. “But I’m not going to be shut out of this case. If the attack on Smith has anything to do with the other missing transients, I intend to find out.”

      * * *

      A FEW MINUTES LATER, Melissa stood with Dex on the steps to the building as the detective stalked toward them. Anger slashed his craggy features as his gaze traveled from Dex to her.

      She forced herself to remain expressionless. She’d learned not to show fear or to react to the men who came to the shelter or she couldn’t be effective, and she refused to let this man intimidate her.

      “What the hell are you doing here?” Detective Lamar growled.

      Dex planted his feet apart in a wide stance, his arms crossed. He looked intimidating himself. “You know why. I want answers about my father—”

      “Your father drank himself into a car accident,” the detective said with a note of sympathy to his voice. “Why would you think his death is connected to this Smith man or McTruitt?”

      A muscle ticked in Dex’s jaw. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s not. But it seems odd to me that I found a card for a shelter in Dad’s truck, then other transients have gone missing, and now this shooting at another shelter.” Dex narrowed his eyes. “Something is going on, Lamar. You have to admit that.”

      The detective rubbed a hand down his chin and sighed. “What I think, Dex, is that you still haven’t gotten over the fact that your father left, and that you’re trying to make something where there isn’t anything.”

      Dex shrugged. “Maybe so. But you know I’m like a dog with a bone. I don’t quit until I get answers.”

      “Then trust me to do my job.