Native Cowboy (17 page)

“I have to deliver a baby.”

Mason didn’t want to leave her alone for a second. “It’s not safe for you at the clinic.”

“I’m not shutting down my practice, Mason. My patient is in labor.”

“I’ll send my deputy over to watch the place,” Sheriff McRae offered.

An uneasy feeling nagged at Mason. A vision of Cara lying in bed this morning, naked, her body pressed into his, sent a surge of protective instincts through him.

More than anything he wanted to catch this killer. And Cara wouldn’t be safe until he did.

“A caller claims he saw Morningside at a gas station between here and San Antonio,” Agent Whitehead cut in. “It sounds like he’s on the run.”

Mason shifted. If Morningside was out of town, Cara would be safe. Besides, he’d had security measures installed at the clinic, and the deputy would be there.

“All right, I’ll drop you, Cara.” He turned to the agent. “Follow me and then we’ll ride together.”

“I’ll stay here and wait on the crime scene techs and see that our victim is transported to the ME’s office,” Sheriff McRae said.

Mason jangled his car keys. “Call your deputy now and tell him to meet us at the Winchester clinic.”

McRae agreed, and he and Cara and the agent hurried to their cars. But as Mason drove to the Winchester clinic, his nerves were on edge.

He hoped to hell this caller was right, and that they found Morningside.

He wanted Cara safe and back in bed with him like they were this morning.

* * *

C
ARA CLENCHED HER TEETH
as Mason drove her to the clinic. How would Isabella Morningside feel if her ex-husband was the serial killer? What if he came after her? Killing her might be his end game.

She had to warn Isabella and her other patients.

By the time they arrived, the deputy was waiting.

Mason introduced himself. “Don’t leave this place for a moment,” he told the deputy. “We think Morningside left town, but he might circle back and come after Dr. Winchester.”

The deputy’s expression indicated he understood the seriousness of the situation. “I’ll make sure she’s safe.”

Mason shook his hand, then gave Cara one more look. She memorized his face, his eyes, knew that he couldn’t make promises he couldn’t keep.

But she wanted him to promise that he’d come back to her alive.

“Dr. Winchester,” Sherese said as she met her at the door. “Hurry, Ann is at nine centimeters!”

Cara took a deep breath, then waved to Mason and dashed inside. Three other patients sat in the waiting room, one a woman with a young boy who looked as if he had a bad cough. The other two were routine pregnancy checks.

“I’ll be with you all as soon as I can,” she said as she passed them and went to wash her hands and suit up.

Sherese followed her, filling her in. “Her water broke at six a.m., then the contractions started. I’ve prepped her for an epidural but I think it’s too late.”

Cara nodded, and gripped Sherese’s hands. “Listen, Sherese. Another woman was murdered last night by this navel fetish killer. The police think it was Isabella Morningside’s ex-husband. Call her and warn her to go a friend’s house and stay there. Then call all my patients who chose adoption, and warn them that my files have been compromised and that they need to be vigilant about not being alone.”

“I’ll get right on it,” Sherese said. “Do you want me to tell them it’s Morningside?”

“No,” Cara said. “We can’t be sure. Just warn them to be careful.”

Sherese hurried back to the front desk, and Cara slipped in to the delivery room. Ann Martin, her eighteen-year-old patient, looked up at her with panicked eyes. Her mother stood beside her, wiping her face with a cloth.

“Help me, Dr. Winchester,” Ann screeched. “The baby’s coming.”

Cara gave the young girl’s mother a reassuring smile. “Then let’s get your little girl here.”

She pulled on gloves, then examined Ann. “You’re right,” she said with another smile. “This baby is ready to meet her mother.”

Another contraction seized her, and Ann clenched the bed rail. “Breathe, honey,” her mother said.

The mother gripped her daughter’s hands, and Cara patted Ann’s arm. “Good job. Now I’m going to need you to push.”

Sweat beaded Ann’s face and neck, and she choked on a sob as she clutched the bed, lifted herself to a half sitting position and pushed.

“She’s crowning now, I see her head,” Cara said. “Hang on a minute, sugar.”

The young girl wiped at tears. “Is she okay?”

“Everything’s fine,” Cara said, although the cord was wrapped around the baby’s neck, and she had to unwind it before Ann pushed her the rest of the way out. Each contraction was choking the infant.

“Doctor?” Ann’s mother said with a note of panic in her voice as another contraction squeezed Ann’s abdomen.

“One minute, then we’ll push her out.” Cara carefully unwound the cord, then looked up at Ann. “Okay, now push!”

Another big push and the baby slid into Cara’s hands. She caught her and turned her over, slowly massaging her chest until a second later, the baby cried out.

“She’s perfect, ten fingers, ten toes!” Cara said triumphantly.

Ann and her mother cried and hugged each other while Cara cleaned the baby and checked her Apgar score. She cut the cord, then wrapped the squealing little girl in a blanket and eased her into her mother’s arms.

“She’s beautiful,” Ann whispered.

“My little angel,” her mother cried.

The next half hour was hectic as Cara finished caring for Ann. “I’m going to send you to the hospital for the night,” Cara said. “Just to make sure all the necessary tests are run for the baby.”

Ann looked frightened for a moment, but Cara assured her that it was routine. She darted into the front room and phoned the ambulance.

She had another patient to see so she left Ann and her mother waiting for the ambulance while she examined the little boy and gave him an antibiotic, then walked them to the front.

A car alarm sounded down the street, and Cara tensed.

The deputy frowned. “I’ll check it out.”

Cara nodded, and he jogged down the street while she headed to the next exam room.

The ambulance arrived and Sherese sent the medics to transport Ann and the baby. Just as they were carrying her out, a sound echoed from the side of the building. A window shattered.

Cara frowned and rushed to see what had happened, then stared in horror as she spotted a pipe bomb on the floor.

The bomb was going to explode any second.

Chapter Sixteen

Mason parked at the gas station where the attendant had spotted Morningside, and he and Agent Whitefield scanned the premises as they entered. A few customers were in the store browsing for snacks, coffee and drinks.

A young man wearing dreadlocks with a tattoo of a snake on his arm worked the register. “My name is Sheriff Blackpaw and this is Special Agent Whitehead of the FBI. Are you the person who called in about the investigation?”

The boy inched his shoulders up as if he was impressed by their credentials. “Yeah.”

“What’s your name?” Agent Whitehead asked.

“Tray Vaughn,” the boy said.

Mason showed him a printout with Morningside’s photo on it. “Is this the man you saw, Tray?”

Tray’s brows furrowed. “He don’t look like that.”

“This is his military photo,” Mason explained. “His hair is longer now, and he was probably wearing civilian clothes.”

“Could be. He has a scar above his eye,” the boy said.

Mason glanced at Agent Whitehead and she nodded. “Shrapnel.”

“What time did he stop by?”

“Late last night. I close up so it was around midnight.”

“What did he say when he came in?” Mason asked.

“Nothing much,” Tray said. “He bought some razors and shaving cream, water, and some cans of food. Oh, and electrical tape.”

Hmm, the shaving cream, razors, food sounded like he might be planning to camp or hide out for a while. But the electrical tape—that worried him. “Did he say where he was going?”

“Naw.” The boy glanced at the door as a heavyset Hispanic man entered. “But he bought a map of the state. And he asked me if there was any rental cabins nearby.”

Mason’s interest perked up. “Are there?”

The boy nodded. “Out on the old state road near Hawk’s Crossing.”

“Did you notice if he had a weapon with him?” Agent Whitehead asked.

“Didn’t see no gun.”

“How about a knife?” Mason asked. He removed another flier with a photo of the buffalo skinner and showed it to the kid. “Maybe one that looked like this.”

Tray shook his head. “Didn’t see one, but he had on a big jacket. Could have hid it under it.”

Mason noticed the security camera above the cash register and another one in the back corner. “Can I look at the security footage?”

The boy blushed. “Cameras don’t work. Owner, that’d be Mr. Darnell, he put ’em up just to scare off shoplifters.”

Mason muttered a silent curse. What use was security if it wasn’t armed?

The heavyset man approached with a six-pack of beer while two teenagers lined up behind him with snacks.

“One more thing,” Mason said. “What kind of car was he driving?”

“Drove an old Jeep. Black, I think it was.”

The man behind him cleared his throat. “Can we hurry it up? I got to get back to the job.”

Mason cut him a scathing look then flashed his badge and gestured toward the beer. “Taking that to work with you?”

The man sneered at him, but held up a hand indicating he would wait.

“Draw me a map to this place called Hawk’s Crossing,” Mason said.

The boy turned the sketch of the knife over and scribbled a crude map and directions on the back. Mason thanked him, and he and the agent left.

“I hope to hell he’s there,” Mason said.

“We’ll find him,” Agent Whitehead assured him.

Mason bit back a sarcastic comment. This was only a case to her.

To him, it was personal. Extremely personal.

* * *

S
MOKE BILLOWED UPWARD
, a ticking sound exploding in Cara’s ears. Dear God, the pipe bomb was going to blow.

She raced toward the reception area and shouted at Sherese. “There’s a pipe bomb inside the clinic. Hurry, get everyone out!”

The paramedics jumped into motion, rushing Ann, her mother and the baby outside. Sherese took one of the female patients by the arm, while Cara raced to the other, her bulk making it difficult to move as fast as she wanted.

Connie, the woman with Sherese, started crying, but Sherese guided her to the door. “Come on, honey, let’s go outside. We have to save your baby.”

Bailey, the second woman, stood, eyes wide with horror. “What’s happening, Dr. Winchester?”

“I’ll explain later, let’s go.” She helped Bailey from the waiting area to the door. Behind her, the smoke grew thicker.

One of the paramedics rushed back to help her.

“Get them as far away from the building as possible,” Cara ordered.

He helped Bailey while the other medic quickly loaded Ann, the baby and her mother into the ambulance.

“Is anyone else inside?” the second medic asked.

“No,” Cara said. “Make sure the patients are okay while I call 911.”

The medics and Sherese moved the two pregnant women near the ambulance, then suddenly the bomb exploded.

Smoke filled the air, glass shattered and the right side of the women’s pavilion burst into flames.

Cara was so close to the door that the impact threw her to the ground.

She tasted dirt and felt blood trickle down her cheek as she collapsed into the grass.

* * *

M
ASON FOLLOWED THE
crude map, veering onto the side roads leading deeper into the wilderness.

Morningside had his little shopping spree late last night. Which meant he was hours ahead of them.

And that they could be on a wild goose chase.

Still, they couldn’t afford not to follow up on the lead. Prairie land stretched before him, cacti, mesquites, scrub brush and patches of wildlife that normally he found peaceful.

Now they represented places to hide.

“Turn on that road,” Agent Whitehead said as she studied the map. “It should be a few miles down there.”

Mason turned on to the dirt road, the car bouncing over potholes. Ahead vultures soared above, reminding him of the first body he’d found. God, he hoped Morningside didn’t have another victim out here now.

A tree had fallen across the road forcing him to slam on the brakes.

“How did Morningside get past this?” Agent Whitehead asked.

“Maybe he’s the one that put it down, a way to keep anyone from coming farther.”

Agent Whitehead twisted her hair into a knot on the back of her head. “What do we do now?”

“Hike in.” Mason cut the engine and climbed out. Agent Whitehead followed, and they headed in the direction of the vultures.

The sound of birds cawing and animals skittering through the woods echoed around them, an occasional branch crackling from the wind.

He approached the patch of brush where the vultures hovered, then breathed a sigh of relief when he realized that it was a carcass of a deer on the ground, not another woman’s body.

“That’s nasty,” Agent Whitehead said, her nose curling up.

“Better an animal than a human.” Mason studied the map again, then strode to the right. They climbed a small hill and came to a clearing and a creek, then he followed the creek to the east.

The sound of the water gurgling should have been comforting, but with each step he took, he sensed they were walking into a trap.

Agent Whitehead wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. “Look, there’s a cabin.”

Miles spotted it at the same time she did. “Let’s go.” Gravel skidded beneath his boots as he descended the hill.

“Dammit,” she said. “I should have brought my hiking boots.”

He didn’t bother to comment. The feds and their stuffy suits got on his nerves, but so far she had been decent to work with. At least she wasn’t a whiner and hadn’t complained about the bugs that swarmed them as they walked.

Mason paused behind a tree and studied the cabin, and the agent did the same.