Snowfall On Haven Point. RaeAnne Thayne

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      When he arrived, of course no one had been there. Marsh had walked around the dilapidated building to see if he was missing something and that was when he heard the engine gun from behind him. He turned just as the SUV headed straight for him and had barely been able to leap away at the last minute to avoid a direct hit.

      He hadn’t been quite fast enough and the vehicle had struck his right leg. The combination of the impact and his own attempt to twist away had done a number on his leg. The X-ray looked like somebody had smashed his leg with a hammer, and the grim tally included a compound fracture of his ankle and multiple smaller fractures all the way up to below his knee.

      He had been too busy trying not to pass out from the pain and hadn’t caught much that would identify the vehicle, except the color—white—and the general make—American-made late-model small SUV.

      As for the driver, in the dark and the snow and from Marshall’s angle on the ground, he had seen nothing except a dark shape wearing a ski mask. He did have one small piece of evidence he hoped would lead in the right direction, but it was too early to tell.

      The state police investigator seemed to think the anonymous tipster had chickened out at the last minute and tried to drive away but slid into Marshall because of the snowy conditions and had subsequently panicked and raced off into the night.

      Marsh wasn’t buying it. Why insist on meeting there, in a relatively isolated spot without security cameras or witnesses?

      No. Somebody had tried to take him out.

      He sat back on the sofa, head pounding and his eyes gritty with exhaustion.

      Why?

      That was the question he couldn’t get out of his head. What the hell was all this about? Who hated him enough to want him gone?

      He took a sip of water and shifted on the sofa, fruitlessly searching for a more comfortable spot.

      He hated this, sitting here helpless instead of going after the son of a bitch who had done this to him. Worse, he was on mandatory leave for at least three weeks, since Newbold had pushed the other commissioners to insist he take sick leave until the New Year.

      They couldn’t stop him from investigating on his own. He would make a list and start eliminating suspects, one by one. Cade would help him and so would Ruben Morales, his second in command.

      Not right now. He was too damn tired and sore to do much more than sit here and try to find the energy to make it to his bedroom.

      His cell phone rang before he could force himself to grab the crutches and get up.

      He should have made Andie Montgomery leave it somewhere out of his reach. He thought about ignoring it, but she was right, there were about a hundred missed calls and texts on there. It seemed cowardly to continue ignoring all of them.

      He glanced at the readout and saw it was Wynona. With a sigh, he picked it up.

      “Hey, Wyn,” he said.

      “About time you answered your phone! I was just about to pack Pete into the car and drive down there.”

      “Glad you didn’t. We’ve got a storm moving in fast.”

      “So do we, but what else am I supposed to do when you won’t call me back? For all I knew, you were lying on the floor unconscious somewhere.”

      How humiliating, that Andrea Montgomery with the lovely eyes had found him after that little spill. Had she called Wyn the moment she left the house to tell her?

      “My phone didn’t have a charge. Sorry to worry you. I’m not on the floor. I’m currently getting ready to eat what looks like some delicious stew made by your friend.”

      “Andie stopped by to check on you? Oh, I’m so glad. I didn’t like the idea of you in that house alone, just hours after surgery.”

      “It was totally unnecessary for you to hire a babysitter for me. I can take care of myself.”

      “Extenuating circumstances. So tell me what happened. All I know is what I’ve heard from Cade, bits and pieces I’ve had to pry out of him.”

      He would rather she didn’t know anything at all, but Wyn always seemed to have her ear to the ground. Until a few months earlier, she had been a police officer herself and had many connections in the local law enforcement community—not to mention that she was engaged to his best friend, who just happened to be the chief of police of Haven Point.

      And, yeah, the two of them being together still freaked him out, though they seemed happy enough.

      “What have you heard?”

      “Something about you heading out to meet a CI and ending up on the wrong side of the CI’s grille.”

      “Yeah. That’s about the size of it.”

      “And the guy behind the wheel just sped off? You didn’t get any kind of a look at him that might help identify him?”

      “Not really.”

      He didn’t tell her he was able to get a partial plate, which was how Ruben, working under the radar, was able to ascertain the vehicle was reported stolen from a Boise box store parking lot two days earlier.

      Wyn didn’t need to know all the details of the investigation—at least not until he had something concrete to go on.

      “We’ve got a few leads we’re following, but it’s early days yet in the investigation.”

      “You shouldn’t have any leads. You’re supposed to be taking it easy.”

      He glanced around his family room, where he had a feeling he would be spending entirely too much time for the immediate future.

      “I couldn’t be taking it any more easy than I am right now, unless I were comatose.”

      “Good. I’m sure that’s just what the doctor ordered.”

      It was, but he also didn’t want to admit that to his bossy younger sister.

      “What do you need? Gelato from Carmela’s? Barbara Serrano’s zuppa tuscano? I can have the Helping Hands hook you up with anything that would help you get through the next few days.”

      More than anything, he wanted to be left alone. Knowing his sister, that was a wish that was doomed from the start.

      “I don’t need anything. Thanks for worrying about me, but I’m fine, really. I’m managing okay on the crutches. At least I’ve only fallen once.”

      “That’s not very reassuring,” Wyn said. He could almost hear the frown in her voice. “I would still feel better if you would let Andrea check in on you, at least these first few days home from the hospital. I know you’re a tough guy, but sometimes even tough guys need a little TLC.”

      “I appreciate your concern, but it’s not necessary, really. I’ll be just fine.”

      “You’d say that even if you had two broken legs, wouldn’t you?”

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