Lights bounced off everything around Sun as she jumped out of her cruiser and ducked under a strip of yellow tape, something she’d seen used only one other time during her four-month stint as sheriff of the sleepy tourist town, and that involved a truck, a herd of chickens, and a pallet of warming lubricant.
An ambulance and a fire truck sat in the lot along with two of her deputies’ cars, lights blazing in the darkness from all four first-responder vehicles.
Salazar was already taking statements while Zee held off a small crowd of inebriated gawkers, several of whom were women who just wanted to make sure Levi was okay. Sun didn’t realize her former—and admittedly current—crush had such a dedicated following. Not that it surprised her.
She hurried past just as Quincy closed the door to the ambulance. He banged on it to give the go-ahead, then brushed himself off as it sped away.
Her heart sputtered and stumbled before restarting again. Her fingers tingled and she curled them into fists, pressing her nails into her palms. Apprehension had taken a stranglehold. She uncurled the fists. Slid her hands down her hips. Forced herself to calm.
“Is he okay?” she asked Quince, the thought of Levi seriously injured darkening the edges of her vision.
“Don’t know.” He shook his head. “It doesn’t look good.”
It took every ounce of strength she had to not run back to her cruiser and chase after the ambulance. She’d wanted to see him before they took him away. If it were really that bad, she might not get a chance to talk to him before the medical center had to airlift him to Albuquerque.
Even if she did go to see him at this juncture, she’d only be in the way. She needed to let the professionals do their jobs and, more importantly, she needed to do hers.
She compelled herself to take a beat, to fill her lungs before asking, “What happened here?”
Quincy pointed to another taped-off area between two vehicles. A taped-off area drowning in blood. Huge dark shadows pooled between the tires of the vehicles and streaks of it painted the light-colored cars like graffiti. She bit down so hard her jaw hurt and tears stung the backs of her eyes.
“From what we can tell,” Quince said, leading her closer, “three men jumped a Roadhouse patron and Ravinder came out to help.”
She closed her lids. Of course, he did. When she lifted them again, Quince had turned around and was gesturing toward the road.
“He paid the price, too. There’s security footage. We’ll know more once we get a good look, but from what we’ve learned so far, he’s damned lucky to be alive. According to the breakfast club over there,” he said, pointing to the witnesses, “that pickup hit him dead on.”
Sun stilled. “Pickup?”
“They backed up and tried to run him over again. Apparently, your guy has the reflexes of a mountain lion. Their words.”
“I …I thought it was a stabbing.”
“Right. The victim was beaten and stabbed multiple times. He also has some pretty serious defensive wounds.” He turned back to the blood-soaked crime scene.
“The victim?” she asked, now frowning in confusion.
Quincy frowned, too. Then realization dawned and a knowing grin emerged. He took her chin and lifted her gaze to his. “Your guy’s okay, Sunbeam. Toby has him by Big Red.”
Sun spun around so fast the world tilted. Big Red was the pet name for the only legit fire truck Del Sol had. Also, it was yellow. Not a speck of red paint on her anywhere.
She looked back at Quincy. “He wasn’t stabbed?”
“No.”
“You said he was stabbed.”
“No, I said there was a stabbing and Ravinder was injured.”
She gaped at him.
“Two separate statements.”
She continued to gape, a pastime she’d been partaking in remarkably often since moving back to Del Sol.
“Okeydokey.” He gestured toward Big Red. “So, your guy was trying to stop the men who stabbed our victim. Apparently, those particular men didn’t want to be stopped.” He glanced back at the nightmare on Main Street. “Ravinder fought them but they managed to get into their vehicle and drive off. That was when the genius decided to pick a fight with”—he brought out his notepad—“a white Toyota Tundra with Texas plates.” He looked at the fire truck, indicating the surreal creature commonly known as Levi Ravinder hidden behind it. “And here I thought Ravinder was the smart one of the bunch. Seems he didn’t escape the worst of the Ravinder genes after all.”
She nodded absently, trying her best to use her X-ray vision to see through the emergency vehicle for a glimpse of the fairest Ravinder of them all before remembering she didn’t have X-ray vision. Damn her inability to see through solid objects.
“We had another ambulance en route, but Einstein over there is refusing to go to the hospital. Maybe you can talk some sense into him.”
“Right. Sure. Okay, well, I’ll try.”
“Your confidence gives me hope,” he said, his voice full of humor. A laugh a minute, that one.
Sun rubbed her palms together and walked toward the fire truck. She steeled herself, lifted her chin, and cornered Big Red with a quiet resolve. A resolve that evaporated the minute her gaze landed on the dusty, bloodied figure of Levi Ravinder.
She gritted her teeth at the sight of him to keep herself from shouting his name in horror. Her lungs stopped working and she walked through tunnel vision toward him. She’d only had two sips of wine. All of this lightheadedness couldn’t have been the alcohol.
He sat on a step against the truck, clutching a baseball cap. His tan T-shirt, now dirty and soaked in blood, was ripped across the front showing just enough skin to make Sun’s pulse quicken despite everything. The knuckles on his large hands and his sinewy forearms were covered in scrapes, bruises, and patches of blood, and his swollen left eye showed early signs of blackening.
His uncle Clay hovered nearby, arms crossed over a barrel chest, a nasty scowl lining his puffy face, and Rojas stood at Levi’s side with questions of his own.
“JX?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Levi said, twisting the cap in his hands. “That’s all I got.”
One corner of Rojas’s mouth lifted. “You’re lucky you got that much. I’ve never been hit by a truck, but I don’t think I would’ve been trying to memorize the license plate while it was happening.”
Sun’s pride swelled just a little. She’d had a good feeling when she blackmailed Poetry Rojas into joining the team. She knew he’d make a great deputy, and so far he had yet to prove her wrong. He was observant, sharp, and good with people.
She unclasped her hands—thankful she wasn’t in uniform and tainting the professionalism of the station with her actions. She stepped close enough to notice the subconjunctival hemorrhage in his left eye, the blood trapped beneath the clear surface already spreading and encircling his whiskey-colored iris.
Alarm shot through her again. She cleared her throat and addressed the EMT. “He could have a concussion.”
All heads turned her direction, including his. He didn’t seem surprised to see her, which, why would he be? Then again, Levi had a perpetual poker face. He wasn’t the easiest person to read.
“Sheriff.” The EMT stood and offered his hand. “I’ve told him that very thing. I really think he should go in for a couple of X-rays.”