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Mirror Image

by Laura Scott

ONE

S
heriff's deputy Jenna Reed parked a few yards down the street from her house despite the late hour. She had a one-car garage in the alley, but the structure needed work, so she preferred parking on the street, as did most of her neighbors. As she darted around cars to make her way home, she frowned, slowing her pace when she noticed the front porch light wasn't on. Had she forgotten to flip the switch before leaving for work? Or had the bulb burned out? She thought she'd turned it on, but maybe not.

The cool spring breeze made her shiver, as she wore only a cotton blouse and denim jacket. She and her teammates had celebrated her colleague Caleb O'Malley's promotion after work at Joey's Pizzeria. They'd all changed out of their uniforms for the party, which was a good thing since their boss, Griff Vaughn, had unexpectedly joined them. Seeing off-duty officers in uniform was just one of their lieutenant's pet peeves.

Jenna was cutting across the lawn, heading toward her front porch, when she sensed someone behind her. She whirled, but a second too late. Large hands roughly grabbed her from behind, nearly jerking her off her feet.

Jenna's reaction was swift. Kicking back with her booted foot, she caught her assailant's kneecap with her heel. The hands loosened momentarily but then tightened, an arm sliding around her neck, cutting off her airway. The scent of stale cigar smoke clung to her captor's clothing. She refused to panic, instead using her elbows and heels to fight back while attempting to pry the muscular arm from around her neck.

For what seemed like endless minutes, she struggled with the man who'd grabbed her, her heart beating frantically in her chest as she fought for air. She hated feeling weak, and for a moment the attack reminded her of the night she'd had to fight her father.

No!

Jenna kicked back again at her assailant's knees, and her booted heel found its mark. The arm loosened around her neck enough that she could get her hands up to break out of the hold. Then she spun in a roundhouse kick, catching her attacker in the solar plexus.

He staggered backward but didn't fall down. Jenna wasted precious seconds debating whether or not she could outrun him, but he was already moving deliberately toward her again.

She dropped into a fighting stance, keeping her eyes on the assailant, who wore a black ski mask covering his face. She'd been in tough situations before, but nothing quite like this. She had no idea why this guy had targeted her, and he outweighed her by at least a hundred pounds.

He lashed out with his fist, connecting with her jaw despite her attempt to duck out of the way. Pain exploded in her face, but she ignored it, taking a step back.

Block with your forearm!

Lessons learned during her police-academy training echoed in her mind as she kept her distance from her attacker. She'd survived being attacked by her father all those years ago; certainly she could survive this.

Lord, give me strength!

His fist came out again, and this time she brought her arm up in time to prevent the blow from landing. Pain radiated up her arm, but she quickly lashed out with her other fist, aiming for his nose. Her aim was low and she hit his mouth instead, his teeth scraping the skin off her knuckles.

They fought in a blur of motion, time seeming to stand still. Just when Jenna thought she'd beaten him, he sent her flying backward to land hard on the concrete sidewalk.

She tried to suck air into her lungs, even as he continued toward her like a lion stalking his prey. Jenna couldn't bear the thought of allowing this guy to get the better of her, so she struck out once again with her foot, kicking him in the groin.

He bent over, muttering a curse as she attempted to scramble to her feet. But then he straightened and reached for her. “I've got you now,” he said in a low tone.

“Stop! Police!”

Jenna was just as surprised as her attacker when the harsh voice cut through the silence of the night.

Her assailant spun around and disappeared before Jenna could regain her footing. She sensed someone running toward her, but she didn't wait for the officer to catch up. She managed to scramble upright and took off after the thug. When she reached the edge of her house, she paused, staring through the darkness, uncertain where he might have gone.

There was no sign of him.

She leaned against the tan brick wall for a moment, trying to calm her racing heart, inwardly berating herself for letting him get away.

What kind of SWAT cop was she? If this had happened to Nate Freemont, or one of the other officers, they'd no doubt have been able to take down and capture the guy without a problem.

Then again, she had managed to hold her own. No easy task when her opponent was taller, more muscular and had the advantage of catching her off guard. Which was her fault, as well, she acknowledged with a sigh. Jenna straightened her shoulders and turned to face the officer who'd come rushing to her rescue.

But her brief moment of relief sank to the soles of her feet when she recognized her lieutenant, Griffin Vaughn, jogging toward her, his expression etched in what she suspected was a permanent scowl.

He was the last guy on the entire planet she wanted or expected to see. Especially in a moment of weakness. But she pulled herself together with an effort and lifted her aching chin, determined to show her boss that she was a cop first and foremost.

She'd never be a victim again.

* * *

Griff couldn't believe the brutal attack on Jenna he'd stumbled across when he'd driven down her street.

Deputy Reed
, he reminded himself firmly, as he closed the distance between them.

“Are you all right?” he asked, his voice coming out more harshly than he'd intended. He raked his gaze over her, trying to assure himself that she wasn't harmed.

“Yeah, I'm fine. What are you doing here, Lieutenant?”

Griff inwardly sighed, wishing she'd call him Griff the way the rest of his deputies did. She was the only one who continued to use his title, and for some reason that fact grated on him. “You left your credit card at Joey's, and since I was on my way back to work, I volunteered to drop it off.” He held out the plastic card, glad he'd left the pizzeria when he did. The thought of not getting here in time made him feel sick to his stomach. “Who was that guy? Did you recognize him?”

She tucked the card into her back pocket, then shook her head, lifting her hand to massage her shoulder as if it hurt. “He wore a ski mask and didn't say much, so unfortunately not.”

Griff hated the thought of Jenna being injured and forced himself to glance around her front yard, trying to figure out what had happened. “No demand to hand over money?” When she shook her head, he scowled. “Seems strange. Why else would he attack you? Maybe you should get inside. I'll call for backup.”

Jenna frowned and planted her hands on her hips. “I don't need to go inside. Call this in if you want, but I'm going to go around back to make sure he's not hanging out somewhere nearby.”

Griff hid a wince, knowing she had a right to be upset. After all, he'd hired her. He knew she was a capable deputy on the SWAT team. She was an ace sharpshooter and could handle herself.

So why the need to protect her? Because he still wrestled with guilt over his role in his wife's death?

He shied away from that thought. “We'll both sweep the area,” he amended. “You go left. I'll go right. If we don't find anything, no need to call for reinforcements.”

Jenna gave a curt nod. “Give me a minute to grab my weapon.”

He waited while she opened her front door, collected her service weapon and came back outside. He wished she'd still been in uniform, because he was certain the assailant wouldn't have got away so easily if she'd had her gun. His fault that she wasn't. He knew all the deputies had changed because of his penchant for following the rules.

Griff watched her disappear into the shadows before heading in the opposite direction.

He tightened his grip on his .38, moving slowly across Jenna's front yard to the north side of the house. There were plenty of trees on the neighbor's lawn, and he peered through the darkness, trying to see if anyone was hiding there.

He moved from the edge of the house to the closest tree. Nothing seemed out of place and he was a little surprised that the fight between Jenna and her assailant hadn't garnered more attention from the neighbors. Granted, it was late, but surely someone would have heard something and come out to investigate.

The faint sound of a car starting caught his attention, and he recognized the unique clicking associated with a diesel engine.

Did the perp have a getaway car hidden nearby? If that was the case, he'd be long gone. Griff squinted, trying to make out any sign of a car in the darkness. He couldn't see anything, not even headlights.

After making sure no one was lingering behind the neighbor's trees or shrubs, he made his way into Jenna's backyard. There was a nice little patio with a round table, four chairs and a decent-sized grill.

He could easily imagine Jenna sitting outside, enjoying her patio while grilling burgers and brats. Not too different from the life he'd once envisioned for himself and Helen.

Griff closed off the painful reminders of his past to focus on the here and now. He crossed over to meet Jenna, who was coming in from the other side.

“No sign of him,” she said with obvious disgust. “No doubt you scared him off.”

“Probably. Or he had a car parked nearby.” Up close, he could see that she was bleeding from the corner of her lip, and the edge of her jaw was beginning to swell. “Let's get some ice for your chin.”

She grimaced and gingerly palpated the tender area. “Yeah, he packed a mean punch.”

Griff took her arm to escort her to the front of the house. He swept a keen eye over the area as she opened the door, flipped on the lights and crossed the threshold.

He followed her into the kitchen and then hesitated in the doorway as she rummaged in the freezer for a bag of frozen peas. The corner of his mouth kicked up in a smile. What would she say if she knew his cold pack of choice was a bag of frozen corn?

“Much better,” she mumbled, pressing the bag against her jaw.

His smile instantly evaporated when he noticed the dark bruise marring her beautiful skin. “Are you sure you don't know him?” he pressed. “Maybe an old boyfriend?”

She rolled her eyes in a flash of annoyance. “I only have one old boyfriend, and we broke up six months ago,” she said, moving the bag of frozen peas so she could talk. “Eric used words as a weapon, not his fists, and he wasn't as tall or broad in the shoulders. I was thinking more along the lines of this guy being a part of some case I worked on. Or maybe someone connected to the women's shelter I help support. You know as well as I do, this isn't the kind of job where we make many friends.”

He stared at Jenna for a moment, not liking the thought of her ex-boyfriend using words to lash out at her. Obviously, she was better off without him.

She was younger than Griff by almost five years, had long blond hair, bright blue eyes and a lean frame that was toned without being overly muscular. Her light blue blouse and denim jacket complemented her eyes.

Not that he should notice just how attractive she was. He wasn't at all interested in going down the path of having a relationship. Not after the way he'd lost his wife just two years ago.

Two years, but at times it seemed like yesterday.

“Put the ice back on your jaw,” he said mildly. Once she did as he requested, he returned to the mysterious assailant. “Okay, so maybe you're right about this guy being connected to one of your cases. Anyone in particular stand out in your mind? Anyone at the shelter have an angry ex?”

She shrugged. “All of the women at the shelter have angry exes or they wouldn't be there. But no one specific comes to mind. And nothing stands out in any of my recent cases, either.”

He'd been afraid she'd say that. After all, they'd worked dozens of cases over the past year. And Jenna was well-known in the community as an advocate for abused women, too. “Fine. Then we should go through the recent ones and see who might have gotten released from jail.”

She arched an eyebrow. “For all we know, the perp could be related to someone in jail. Or was paid to attack me.”

He didn't want to think about the endless possibilities. “You could be right, but somehow I get the sense that this was personal.”

She stared at him curiously. “Why do you think that?”

He was caught off guard by the fact that he wanted to go and gently hold the ice pack against the bruise himself. What was wrong with him? It wasn't the first time one of his deputies had got injured. Just a few months ago, Deputy Nate Freemont had been shot in the line of duty.

He cared about the deputies who reported to him. But, for some reason, he found himself more preoccupied with Jenna's attack and subsequent injury than he should be.

The image of the guy slugging Jenna hard enough to send her sprawling backward onto the hard, unforgiving concrete was etched in his memory. The vicious attack had come out of nowhere. There had to be some reason for it.

When he realized she was waiting for him to answer, he shrugged. “He didn't use a knife or gun, which is what most assailants would use to get what they want. Not to mention he didn't ask for money. And he hit you directly in the face, which is always an indication of being personally involved with the victim.”

She nodded slowly. “You're right. We learned about that at the academy.”

“Tell me how he approached you,” Griff continued. “Did he call you by name? Or just grab you?”

“He didn't call me by name, but he did grab me from behind,” she admitted. “He locked his arm across my throat so I couldn't breathe. He smelled like stale cigar smoke.”