By the time she’d pulled on clothes, Zane had started back up the steps.

“Wanted to see if you were dressed. Lee needs to come up.”

“Sure.”

He walked to her, laid a hand on her cheek. “You’re really pale.”

“I’ll be better after coffee. I’ll go make some.” She looked down to the base of the steps where Lee waited. “It’s really good to see you, Chief.” She continued down. “I didn’t even hear the shots, the glass breaking. I woke up when Zane rolled me off the bed and we hit the floor.”

“Don’t you worry now, honey. We’re going to take care of this. That I can promise.”

She nodded, walked to the kitchen to make coffee.

She continued to sit, sipping slowly, when Lee and Zane came back down.

Darby considered herself pretty adept at reading a room, and this one struck her as even more grim than it had been.

“Oh God, he didn’t shoot someone, did he?”

With a shake of his head, Lee sat beside her. “Silas called in. Zane’s office was vandalized again. Obscenities painted all over the front of the building. Paint’s still wet. I’ve got a couple of officers going up to your place to check it out.”

“Okay. It might have been Draper who broke in before, before Micah added security.”

“Could be. We’re going to wait until daybreak to check and see if we can find where he was when he shot the doors. And we’ll be checking on his place, and his family before that.”

“All right.”

Lee patted her hand. “You’re a steady one, Darby.”

“Not altogether, but I believe in the system. It stood up for me when I needed it. I know you’ll find him. Where’s he going to go? And you’ll put him away. Except…”

“Except.”

Her gaze flicked to Zane. “It’d be a wild coincidence if it wasn’t Clint Draper, with the timing. But, Zane, you were a prosecutor. It’s not impossible somebody you put away is out, and wants some payback. And I can see by your face you’ve considered that.”

“Have to,” he agreed. “But it’s Draper. Hitting my office, that’s bullshit stuff. It fits him like a glove. And I’m betting anybody I prosecuted who had the brains to track me here probably knows how to spell ‘motherfucker.’”

Lee rose to answer his phone, wandered off, wandered back when the call was complete.

“Your place, too, I’m sorry to say, Darby. Paint, crude words. And … he left some DNA. We’ll send that off. We’ve got Clint’s on file already. Still, it takes time. Not as much for prints, and we’re going to find them, too.”

“I should go see—”

“No, you’re not going to go see,” Lee said before Zane could. “It’s a crime scene now, and you’re going to steer clear of it. You need anything from there, we’ll get it for you.”

She looked Lee dead in the eyes. “What kind of DNA?”

“You leave that to us.” He patted her hand. “I’d appreciate it if you’d both stay here for now. We’re going to go have a conversation with the Drapers. And leave the bedroom as is. One of my men’ll be around to take pictures.”

He bent down, brushed his lips over Darby’s hair. “Nobody does this to my family. You can take that to the bank.”

“I’ll walk you out.”

Darby stayed where she was, waited until Zane came back.

“What kind of DNA? He told you just now. I have a right to know.”

“My office, he pissed on the porch. Your place? He jacked off on your doormat.”

She blew out a breath. “Well. Glad I didn’t pay much for it.”

“I’d beat him bloody for that alone, and I say that as somebody who’d rather use words than fists. But for that, I’d beat him bloody. Darby, I’m—”

Her shoulders went iron hard. “Don’t you dare say you’re sorry. I picked her up on the side of the road. I brought her to you for help. We’re in this together.” Though her eyes stung with tears, her voice came fierce. “Don’t you dare say you’re sorry to me for any part of this.”

She swiped the heels of her hands over the tears that escaped. “Zod needs to go out.”

Since the dog all but danced at the door, Zane had to agree.

“I’ll take him—on a leash. Any possibility you could try to scramble up some eggs?”

“I can do that, but I can’t guarantee how they’ll turn out.”

“Can’t be worse than mine.”

He got the leash, clipped it on the delighted dog. “If you’d been alone at your place—”

“I just went through a bunch of ifs upstairs before I reminded myself ifs don’t matter. You’d better work up a serious appetite if you’re going to swallow down my eggs.”

In the wash of his security lights, Zane walked the dog, and used the task as an excuse to aim toward where he figured the shooter had stood. He’d examined plenty of crime scenes in his past life, pored over countless police reports.

And since he had, he kept Zod on a short leash. Wisely, he decided when the dog sniffed the air and strained against it to move ahead.

“Easy. We mess anything up, Lee won’t have to kick my ass. I’ll kick my own.”

Moving carefully, he didn’t have to follow Zod’s nose for long. He could follow his own. Only more cautious now, he picked the dog up, tolerated the wiggles, the lapping tongue as he studied ground already disturbed.

And the blood, still fresh.

“Now, what do you make of that?” he mumbled. “You just hold on.” Crouching, he got a firm grip on Zod’s collar, dug his phone out of his pocket. He took a couple of shots, then frog-walked back until he had enough distance to trust the leash again.

He had to tug the dog away, then lead him off to where Zod could do what he had to do without compromising the scene.

While the dog busied himself, Zane called Lee.

“I found something—and before you jump, I didn’t compromise the scene. I’m going to send you a couple pictures. You’re going to want to get somebody over here. There had to be two of them, Lee, and one of them’s bleeding.”

He sent the pictures, thought it through while he walked Zod back for a very early breakfast.

Darby stood by the stove, scowling at the skillet. “First they were runny, and then in like seconds, they’re overdone. But I didn’t burn them, so that’s—”

She turned as she spoke, saw his face. “What? What happened?”

“They’re gone. Don’t worry.”

“They?”

He nodded, bent to unclip the leash. “Zod sniffed out where they’d been. That’s a good dog.” He gave the dog a rub, then poured his food in his bowl. Zod pounced on it like a lion pounces on a gazelle.

“There’s blood.”

“Blood? But—”

“I’m not an investigator, but I’ve worked with them. Simplest to my eye? Two of them, and one bashed the other with a rock. You’ve got a bloody rock,” he continued as he got out plates. “You’ve got blood on the ground, crushed brush, short drag marks.”

He shrugged. “They’ll find more once the sun’s up, but simplest is two, and one hauled the other out after he coshed him with a rock.”

She stood watching him while he got out forks. “You’re pretty damn cool about it.”

“Well, now it’s a mystery, so that’s interesting. And we’re about to have eggs and coffee.” He gave her arms a quick rub, much as he had the dog—with easy affection. “I’m still pissed, but now we’ve got something to figure out on top of it. Clint Draper’s easy, almost certain to be him and we’d know why. But, darlin’, why did Clint hit somebody with a rock when he had a rifle? Or why did somebody hit him with one?”

“To protect us? And that doesn’t make any sense,” she admitted as she scooped clumps of overdone eggs onto the plates. “Why would they be in the woods in the middle of the night? Why would they haul the other away and not say anything?”

“See.” He shot a finger at her, sat to eat. “Got you thinking. Could be one of his pals, whoever he’s using to hide out. They had a disagreement out there, one smacks the other.”

“Hmm.” She sampled eggs. Maybe more salt. “Then it’s oh shit, we better get out of here. But that’s just stupid.”

He tried more pepper. “We’re talking—most likely—Clint Draper, darlin’. They don’t come much more stupid.”

“Most likely,” she echoed. “It is most likely, but you’ll still check on people you helped put away that might want to hurt you.”

“I’ve got files. I’ll be looking, but odds are better Lee rounds Clint up pretty quick, and that DNA, the prints slam that shut.” Because they weren’t any worse than what he’d have scrambled up, he ate more eggs. “He’s pissed. Lee.”

“I could see that for myself.”

“He’d do the job regardless, but being pissed? He’ll round Clint Draper up pretty quick. Even so, what I’m going to tell you is—”

“There are other Drapers,” she finished. “And—how’s this for talking southern—they won’t take kindly to having their kin locked up.”

“Not bad for a Yankee, and no, they won’t take kindly to it. So you’re going to be careful. We’re going to be careful,” he corrected before she could. “Plus, we’ve got ourselves this fierce guard dog.”