Identity Unknown (2 page)

Definitely not a fisherman.

And definitely not from around here.

She pressed her fingers against the side of the man's neck, fully expecting to find no pulse, as no one could survive for long in the frigid Atlantic Ocean, not to mention being exposed to the elements onshore. The skin on his neck was like ice, but beneath her cold fingers a pulse beat. Slow, but there!

With a renewed spike of adrenaline, she grabbed the mic on her shoulder. “Send the ambulance to the beach. We have a live one here. Hurry, though!”

“Copy that.” Ophelia's surprise matched Audrey's.

Audrey slipped her arms under the man's torso and dragged him to the dry sand. Then she unzipped her jacket, thankful she'd worn her thick, cable-knit sweater over her thermals today, and shrugged out of the outerwear. She laid it over the man on the beach.

Turning to the group of town elders still gawking like she were the main act at the circus, she called out, “Clem, is that your truck parked out there?”

“Sure is,” he yelled back.

“Do you have any blankets or jackets? I need them!”

Clem and Pat hustled away, leaving the two older ladies huddled together, staring in her direction. Audrey turned her attention back to the man lying on the sand. Dark hair hung in chunks covering his face. Dried blood matted some of the hair near his temple. He had on black jackboots, similar to the ones she wore, black cargo pants, a black turtleneck and gloves.

She made a quick check for identification. None. She placed a hand on his shoulder. “Lord, I don't know why this man has washed ashore here or what purpose You have, but I pray that he lives. Have mercy and grace on this man. And let us find the masked man without any lives lost. Amen.”

The man stirred and moaned as he thrashed on the sand, giving Audrey her first real glimpse of his face as his hair dropped away. Dark lashes splayed over high cheekbones. A well-formed mouth with lips nearly blue from the cold. He had handsome features. Curiosity bubbled inside her. Who was he and what was his story? Why was someone trying to kill him?

“Sir.” Audrey gave his shoulder a gentle shake.

A word slipped out of his mouth.

“What?” Audrey bent closer, turning her ear toward his mouth.

“Betrayed...” He stilled and slipped back into unconsciousness.

A sense of urgency trembled through her. What did he mean? Had he betrayed someone? Or had someone betrayed him?

She still didn't hear the siren. Where was the ambulance? It wasn't like the medical center where Sean James kept the bus parked was that far away. Calico Bay was barely the length of a football field. Keeping her gun ready, she stayed alert for any signs of the masked man returning.

Clem and Pat picked their way to her side, their arms loaded with a plethora of blankets and jackets. She quickly packed them around her charge. Whatever this man's story, whether good or bad, she had a sworn duty to serve and protect the community of Calico Bay, and for now that included this man.

The shrill siren filled the air. Good. About time. Within minutes Sean, his intern and the sheriff were hustling across the beach with a stretcher. Sean ambled toward her on an unsteady gait. He carried his medical bag in one gloved hand. A yellow beanie was pulled low over his auburn hair and covered his ears.

His intense brown gaze swept the area as if looking for insurgents. He'd been a medic in the military before losing a leg at the knee when an IUD exploded. The town had been heartbroken at his loss but thankful their star high school quarterback had returned to Calico Bay alive.

Though Sean had slipped into a depression when he'd first come home, the town's people wouldn't let that continue and had pooled their resources to buy the ambulance and make him the town's official EMT.

Audrey moved out of the way to allow Sean and his intern, a kid named Wes, to work on the unconscious man.

“I've got all deputies out looking for the SUV. What do we have here?” Sheriff David Crump asked. He was a big, brawny man with a shock of white hair that had once been as dark as night and a ready grin that had captured her great-aunt's heart back when they were in high school. Now if only Audrey could capture his respect as easily.

She related what she knew.

Sean and Wes rolled the man onto the stretcher. She reached for the edge of the litter along with the sheriff and helped Sean and Wes carry the man to the waiting ambulance. The older folks, still congregating near Clem's truck, watched with avid expressions.

Once the bay doors were closed, the ambulance drove away. The sheriff climbed into his car and took off with his lights flashing. This was going to be big news in town. Audrey moved toward her vehicle, intent on following the ambulance to the medical center. For some reason she felt an urge to stick close to the unconscious man. Probably because he was helpless and at their mercy.

There was something about him that made her think he wasn't going to like being in that state long once he came to. Maybe it was the strength in his chin or the boldness of his cheeks or the width of his shoulders. Or possibly woman's intuition mingled with her cop sense.

“Do you know who he is?” Mary asked, trying to waylay her.

“No, ma'am,” Audrey replied and popped open the driver's side door. “You all go home now before you catch a chill. We still have an armed man loose in the township. Be careful and call the station if you see anyone or anything suspicious.”

Without waiting for their reactions, she drove through the center of town toward the medical center that served as the town's hospital without turning on her lights. Up ahead the ambulance stopped for a red light at one of only two traffic lights in the town. She stacked up behind the sheriff's car.

When the light turned green, Sean stepped on the gas. The ambulance was in the middle of the intersection when the same dark SUV with a huge brush guard on the front end ran the red light and plowed into the back of the ambulance.

Audrey's mind scrambled to make sense of what she was seeing even as she rammed the gearshift into Park, unbuckled her seat belt and jumped out of her car while once again palming her sidearm. Twice in one day was a new record.

The SUV's tires screeched as it backed up, spun in a half circle and sped off in the direction it had come from. The sheriff's car jolted forward, jumped the curb and took off after the hit-and-run vehicle. Audrey radioed for more backup, then raced to the front of the ambulance. Smoke billowed from the engine block. “Sean! Wes!”

* * *

The world tipped and jostled. Pain exploded everywhere. He tried to force his eyelids open, but nothing cooperated. His arms were strapped down. So were his legs.

Where was he? Why was he trapped in some sort of roller coaster? His head pounded. He tried to recall what had led him to this place in time, but a dark void sucked him in. The last thing he heard before the blackness took him back was a woman's panicked voice. He wished he could help her, but he couldn't even help himself.

* * *

Audrey reached the ambulance driver's door just as Sean swung it open. She helped him to the curb. A gash on his forehead bled. Then she ran back for Wes. Thankfully the passenger side door opened easily. The kid was slumped sideways, the white air bag in his lap.

“Let me get the door,” a male voice said from behind her.

She nodded gratefully at a local man who'd been passing by on the sidewalk. Once the passenger door was open, Audrey and the Good Samaritan, Jordon, got Wes out. He came with a groan, too, as they sat him beside Sean.

“Jordon, help me with the guy in back,” Audrey instructed. The brunt of the impact had been aimed at the back bay. The double doors were crumpled. She let out a growl of frustration and ran to her car's trunk, where she kept a set of Jaws of Life. She'd never needed the equipment before and had hoped never to use it, but she hefted them into her hands, feeling their unfamiliar weight.

The sound of the Calico Bay fire engine rent the air. Momentary relief renewed her energy. Help was on the way. But she had to get inside the bay and make sure the man she'd rescued from the beach hadn't died in the crash, which was no doubt the guy in the SUV's intent.

Before she and Jordon could get into the back bay, the fire truck pulled up. Three men and two women hustled over. Audrey let two of the biggest fire crew members take over with the door.

As soon as the doors on the bay allowed access, she climbed inside. The stretcher had tipped but was wedged between the two benches, providing some protection for the man strapped to the gurney. Thankfully the impact of the SUV crashing into the ambulance didn't seem to have caused the patient any more damage. She checked his pulse and let out a relieved breath.

But someone was determined to kill this man.

And it was her job to keep him alive.

TWO

A
udrey finished her after-action report on the shooting and put it on the sheriff's desk—he liked things old-school—but she also sent him an electronic version. Her heart still hammered too fast from this morning's activities. Focusing on the paperwork helped to calm her nerves. But now a bout of anxiety kicked back in. Danger had come to her small part of the world. And she didn't like it one bit.

She stopped by Deputy Harrison's desk. His light brown hair was shorn short, which emphasized the hard lines of his jaw. “Hey, Mike, any idea where the sheriff is?”

“Home, I'd imagine,” the thirtysomething deputy replied without glancing up.

She corralled her irritation. He was one of those who weren't comfortable having a female on duty. Earning his respect would be nearly as difficult as that of her great-uncle. Infusing goodwill into her voice—it was Christmastime, after all—she said, “If you see him, would you mind letting him know I'm heading to the medical center to check on our John Doe?”

Mike lifted his gray eyes to her. “Why? The guy's still unconscious. And Gregson's there.”

She couldn't explain her driving need to go to the medical center or the need to make sure the man from the beach was safe. So she settled for something the other deputy would understand. “It's my case.”

She hurried from the sheriff's station, acknowledging to herself she easily could have called her mom, the primary doctor who was tending to the man they'd rescued on the beach, for an update. But she wanted to see for herself.

Night had fallen several hours ago, and now the world was bathed in the soft glow from the moon and the streetlamps decorated with twinkling lights. A large Christmas tree in the middle of the town park rose high in the air and shimmered with a thousand tiny lights and a brightly lit star.

Normally she enjoyed seeing the tree and the town in the throes of the holiday season, but tonight edginess had her hands gripping the steering wheel in nervous anticipation as she drove.

The news media had picked up the story, reporting an unconscious John Doe found on the beach. The sheriff hadn't released the man's photo. Yet. If the man didn't regain consciousness soon, they'd have to reach out to the public in hopes of identifying the stranger.

No doubt reporters from the bigger towns would descend on Calico Bay and the medical center, making the sheriff's department's job harder. With more strangers in town, finding the masked man would be more difficult. She'd already made calls to all the gas stations, restaurants and grocery stores, asking everyone to keep an eye out for an outsider. In winter, visitors were an oddity in the close-knit community.

Audrey's gaze searched the streets for any sign of trouble, namely in the form of a masked man in black with a large gun. It bugged her no end that the bandit in the SUV had disappeared. The sheriff had chased the offending vehicle for several miles before the creep threw out a handful of spikes that had punctured the sheriff's tires, allowing the suspect to escape. That wasn't an amateur move. Given how the victim and the assailant were dressed, Audrey had a suspicion there was some paramilitary-type thing going on here. Not a comforting thought.

She parked at the side entrance next to her mom's sedan and went inside the brick building, pausing at the nurses' station to ask for her mom.

“Dr. Martin is with a patient at the moment,” Katie, the nurse on duty, informed her. Katie shoved her red hair off her shoulder and leaned close. “So was there really a shootout this morning on the beach?”

Resting her hands on the utility belt at her waist, Audrey towered over the other woman. “Yes. No one was hit, thankfully. Where's the man who was brought in this morning?”

“Second floor. Deputy Gregson's on duty.”

“Thanks.” Audrey bypassed the elevator and took the stairs, preferring to move at her own rapid pace rather than waiting. When she emerged from the stairwell, she halted. Deputy Gregson wasn't at his post.

A bad feeling tightened the muscles of her neck. He should've been sitting outside one of the rooms, but the chair at the other end of the hall was empty. A magazine lay on the floor nearby. She unlatched the strap on her holster and gripped the butt of the Glock as she moved with caution toward the last room.

She passed the nurses' desk. The older woman manning the station glanced up from the report she was studying. “Evening, Deputy.”

“Where's Deputy Gregson?”

The nurse popped up from her chair and frowned. “Well, he was sitting right over there last I checked, but I've been busy so I haven't paid much attention.” She sat back down with a shrug. “Maybe he's using the restroom.”

“Maybe.” Though the itch at the back of Audrey's neck was saying no. Something was wrong. She paused outside John Doe's door, withdrew her weapon, took a calming breath and then pushed the door open.

* * *

Lying in the hospital bed, the man blinked at the dark figure towering over him.

The stranger grabbed a pillow, his intent clear as he held the white fluff in both hands and brought it toward the man's face, clearly meaning to smother him. Why would he choose that method of elimination? The answer came with lightning speed. Suffocating him was soundless, providing the goon more opportunity to get away cleanly.

Fear, stark and vivid, flooded his system, short-circuiting his brain in a shower of pain. The patient in the bed lifted his arms to ward off the attack, but his limbs felt heavy. His body responded sluggishly, as if he were fighting to move through mud.

There was no way he could defend himself.

He was about to die. He didn't know why.

His mind reeled. The world receded. His limbs flopped back to the bed at his sides, and darkness claimed him once again.

* * *

Several things registered at once for Audrey as she stepped into John Doe's room. Deputy Gregson's prone body just inside the doorway. Blood from a gash on his head.

The same tall, muscular man dressed in dark clothing, with sand still clinging to his boots, stood holding a pillow in his hands, about to suffocate the unconscious man lying in the bed, hooked to a heart monitor and an IV.

“Stop, police!” she shouted.

The intruder spun to face her. The fury in his dark brown eyes, the only thing visible between his black beanie and the black neoprene half mask, was unmistakable when his gaze locked with hers. “You! Not again!” His voice was deep, gruff, muffled by the mask. “Stop interfering.”

“Drop the pillow. Put your hands in the air,” she commanded, bracing her feet apart in case she had to fire.

He threw the pillow, hitting her in the face and blocking her view for a split second, just enough for the man to use his shoulder to slam into her like a battering ram and knock her off her feet.

“Hey!” She landed on her backside with a jarring thud, her weapon hitting the tile floor and skidding away. The man jumped over her. She grabbed his ankle and hung on, tripping him. He went down, landing on his knees and hands with a grunt. He kicked her with his free foot, his heel smashing into her shoulder.

She ignored the blast of pain and scrambled for a better hold, but he twisted and jerked out of her grasp to race out of the room. She jumped to her feet, grabbed her gun from the floor and dashed after him. He disappeared down the stairwell.

“Call nine-one-one,” Audrey shouted to the startled nurse as she raced passed the desk. “Check on Gregson and the patient.”

Using caution, Audrey opened the stairwell door and peered inside. She heard the man's pounding footfalls going downstairs. She chased after him, leaping down the last few steps and careening out of the stairwell onto the first floor. Up ahead, the man slammed into an orderly, knocking him sideways, then the assailant hit the exit. Audrey ran outside but lost sight of him.

Not far away an engine turned over, and then tires screeched on the pavement.

Heart pumping with adrenaline, she rushed back inside and up to the second floor. She checked on Gregson, who now was sitting up. A nurse tended to the wound on his head.

“What happened?” Audrey asked the dazed officer.

“I was reading a magazine when someone came out of the room across the hall and attacked me,” Gregson replied. “It was a blur. The guy had on a mask, and he hit me in the head with something hard. I didn't see what it was.”

With her hand on her gun, Audrey stepped out of the room and pushed open the door to the unoccupied room across the hall. The window was open. She stuck her head out.

Footprints in the dusting of snow on the ledge gave Audrey a pretty good idea of how the perpetrator had gained access—he'd climbed the fire escape and shuffled along the ledge to the window. The lock had been broken. She slammed the window closed and made a mental note to have someone fix the latch as soon as possible.

Audrey returned to John Doe's room and addressed the nurse helping Gregson. “Is he going to be okay?”

“Yes,” the woman said. “He'll need a couple of sutures. Dr. Martin will want to examine him to be sure he doesn't have a mild concussion.”

“Okay, see that he's taken care of,” Audrey said. She put her hand on Gregson's shoulder. “I'll take over the watch tonight. The sheriff should be here any moment. He'll want a full account.”

Gregson nodded and looked a bit green around the edges as the nurse helped him to stand and led him out of the room.

Once alone with the unconscious man in the bed, Audrey checked the window, making sure the lock was intact and secure. She took several deep, calming breaths and let the adrenaline ebb away. She'd had more excitement in the past twenty-four hours than since graduating from the academy. She positioned the chair so she had a clear view of the door and the window in case the masked attacker decided to return.

“You're beautiful.”

Startled, Audrey whipped around to find herself staring into the dark eyes of John Doe. His lopsided grin sucked the breath from her lungs. She'd never understood the term
roguishly handsome
until this moment. Even groggy and on pain meds, he affected her on an elemental level. Which made her extremely uneasy. What would he be like fully conscious?

Heart pounding, she stepped closer to the bed. “Who are you? What's your name?”

His eyelids fluttered, and he said something unintelligible.

She reached for the button to call the nurse when his fingers closed over her wrist, pressing against her skin where the sleeve of her uniform rode up. His touch was firm but gentle. Strong hands, and calloused, she noted in a bemused way that made her twitchy. She tugged on her arm, hoping he'd get a clue and release his hold. He didn't.

“You look like a Christmas ornament.” His words were slurred. “Shiny. Pretty.”

His hand dropped away as if he could no longer hold on. His head lolled to the side, and his eyes closed.

“Hey,” Audrey said, giving him a slight shake. “Mister, I need you to wake up.”

But he'd gone out again.

Okay, that was weird. He'd likened her to a Christmas ornament. Shiny—that was a new one. If she hadn't known he'd been conked on the head and was on mild painkillers, she'd have thought he was on some sort of hallucinogenic. Maybe he was on something stronger than the medical grade medicine. She'd have to ask her mother.

She sat but was too antsy to stay still. She paced at the foot of the bed, every few seconds checking to see if the man had regained consciousness again.

The door opened suddenly, sending her pulse skyrocketing and her hand reaching for her sidearm.

“Whoa, there,” her great-uncle's deep voice intoned as he stepped into the room. “Just me.”

She relaxed her stance. “Did you see Gregson?”

“Yep. He'll be fine.” David moved to the end of the bed and set a fingerprint kit on the chair. “You've saved this man's life thrice now.”

Her mouth twitched at her uncle's words. He'd once been a scholar of Old English before giving up academia and carving out a path in law enforcement. “I have a feeling the masked villain isn't going to give up.”

He tipped his chin toward the man lying on the bed. “Has he come to?”

“Briefly.”

“Did he say anything?”

She hesitated, unwilling to reveal the words that were still echoing inside her head. “Nothing useful. Gibberish. Do you know if a tox screen was done?”

David arched an eyebrow. “You know your mother. Of course that was one of the first things she did.”

“Right.” Her mother couldn't abide drugs. She'd lost her younger brother to the poison years ago. “And?”

“Clean blood. No track marks.”

“Good.” For some reason knowing John Doe wasn't a junkie pleased her. But just what and who he was remained a mystery, as did why someone was so ardently trying to kill him. What did John know? “The man who shot at me wasn't some garden-variety bad guy. Whatever John Doe is, he's into something bad.”

“Yeah, I have that feeling, too. The road tacks the perp used to stop my car when I chased after him can be bought online easy enough. But there was skill involved.”

In the melee of the crash and aftermath, she'd forgotten what John Doe had said on the beach. “He'd muttered a word when I first reached him—
betrayed
.”

“That's interesting. And concerning. The masked man may have been his attacker from the get-go and is very determined to finish the job. I don't like it. I want you to go home,” the sheriff said. “I'll stick around until Harrison and Paulson can get here.”

She straightened. Did he think she wasn't doing a good job? “I'll stay.”

“You've been on duty since five a.m.”

“I'm not tired.”

He sighed. “Let's get his prints and a photo. Then I'm ordering you to go home. In the morning you can search the criminal and missing-persons databases. Hopefully you'll come up with a name and a reason why someone wants him dead.”