Page 110 of Asher's Assignment
So, he stopped fighting it and let the barrage of memories and feelings come.
They started with the pain in his skull when Lennox knocked him out, then the outrage and the tiny bit of fear he felt when he woke up handcuffed in the back of his car. Then the healthier dose of fear that accompanied the anger when he woke again in the basement of that house to find Leah there with him.
His abs clenched as he remembered the pain of being tased.
Fists clenched, he ground his teeth together. He was angrier at his own dumb ass for putting himself in that position than he was at Lennox. He should have searched the basement better, paid more attention. But he’d been so angry that he’d been taken and then so thrown off by Leah’s presence he hadn’t done his due diligence. And it had nearly cost him dearly.
Inhaling a breath through his nose, he opened his eyes and glanced at Strouds’ house. Nothing had changed. He let out a low growl of frustration and sank his head into the headrest again.
This time, his brain went to the shooting. It replayed in his mind like an old VHS tape; playing, then pausing, then swiftly rewinding, only to play again. Over and over, he relived it.
Relived the fear that sucker punched him when Lennox pointed the gun at him. The terror that doused him like the iciest water when he turned around and saw Esther in a pool of blood. Even now, a hollow pit formed in his stomach and a jitteriness worked its way through his muscles.
That was a sight he never wanted to see again. Nor did he ever want to feel her fading beneath his hands or have her life literally seeping between his fingers.
Several tears tracked down his face, and he swiped at them.
He’d had his cry at her bedside earlier. Now was the time to find the man responsible. She was alive, and he couldn’t do anything to help her heal. But he could catch the man who tried to kill her.
He opened his eyes again and looked across the street.
Wake up, dammit!
He glared at the Strouds’ home and willed the lights to come on downstairs.
Annoyed, he plucked his phone from the center console, debating calling Ford. But he didn’t really have a reason to. There was nothing Ford could do. Even if he wasn’t sick and could get on a plane, they were in a holding pattern until they had more information.
Soft light glowed through the sheer curtains on the Strouds’ front windows.
Finally.
Asher grabbed Edie’s laptop and got out of the car. He jogged across the street and knocked on the door, forgoing the bell in case the Strouds had children still asleep.
The porch light came on a moment before the door swung inward to reveal a scowling Detective Stroud, who was still clad in his bathrobe.
“Horn, it’s barely six a.m. What the hell are you doing here?”
“Did you read my text?”
“What? No. I haven’t even had coffee yet. Or a shower. Go away. I’ll call you when I get to the station.”
He started to close the door, but Asher stuck his foot in the doorway. “I got a hit on Lennox’s license plate.”
Stroud’s angry frown turned curious for a moment before he shook his head and glared at Asher. “I’ll be in the office at seven-thirty.”
Asher put a hand on the door this time. “If your wife stepped in front of a bullet for you, wouldn’t you stop at nothing to bring her shooter to justice?”
Stroud narrowed his eyes, staring at him for several seconds. “Dammit. You play dirty.” He stepped back and opened the door. “Keep your voice down. My wife and kids are still sleeping.”
Stepping inside, Asher closed the door softly, then followed Stroud into the kitchen.
“You want coffee?” Stroud glanced at him as he stopped in front of the single-serve machine. “Or have you had enough that it’s replaced the blood in your veins?”
“There’s still a little red left, so hit me.”
Stroud grabbed two mugs and put one under the spout, then added a pod and pressed start. Turning, he crossed his arms and rested against the counter. “What did you find? And how? Our techs weren’t getting anywhere when I left last night.”
“I wasn’t, either, until I played with the image again. I managed to clean it up enough to get the last few digits. The car is registered to a woman from Idaho named Vanessa Burnwell. She’s currently serving three years there on a drug charge.”
