Free Closer Than You Think by Karen Rose Page A

brother had fallen in with a very bad crowd, and Aunt Tammy, who’d raised Greg from an infant after their mother died, was at the end of her rope. Which was why Deacon had come home, not just for a vacation or holiday, but permanently. There were details to work out, but it was nothing he and Dani hadn’t been able to handle.
    Until this afternoon. God . Greg had gotten into trouble at school again , and what had started as a conversation nearly escalated into a brawl. The angry, ugly words that Deacon and his brother had shouted at each other still echoed in his mind. Deacon didn’t often lose his temper, but somehow Greg managed to push every single one of his buttons with a simple smirk.
    Deacon didn’t think he’d yelled so much in years, maybe ever. Not that it had done any good. Greg had simply turned down his hearing aid, which had made Deacon literally see red.
    He was glad the victim had been discovered, for her sake, of course, but also for his own, because the call to the crime scene had forced him to walk away from his brother before he’d done something unforgivable. He’d seriously wanted to slap the smirk off the kid’s face. He didn’t think he’d have done it, but the very idea that he’d been tempted left him rattled.
    He couldn’t afford to be rattled. He had a job to do. He pushed his guilt and worry aside. His focus had to be on the young woman who’d been assaulted and left to die.
    Out here, no one watched through lace curtains. Whoever had left the victim had counted on that. Had counted on the fact that there were trees as far as the eye could see on either side of the pitted and potholed road. That beyond the trees to the south ran a lonely stretch of the Ohio River, miles away from the bars and restaurants of the Cincinnati riverfront.
    That the victim had been discovered at all seemed like a miracle.
    Deacon found miracles suspicious. The initial report stated that the victim had been found by a woman who’d swerved to avoid her, wrecking her vehicle. But there didn’t seem to be any good reason for anyone to be on this road. It was too cold for most hikers and campers, and deer season hadn’t started yet. He hoped the first responders hadn’t let the woman leave. He had a few questions for her.
    One of the local cops had strung yellow crime-scene tape across the road. Ducking under it, Deacon started toward the flashing lights of the two sheriff’s department cruisers, parked on either side of an ambulance whose back doors stood open, revealing the woman sitting inside.
    Red was his first impression. Dark red hair the color of Bordeaux framed a pale but pretty face. Her cheek was smudged with blood, her forehead bandaged.
    Not the victim. He knew she was already on her way to the trauma unit in Cincinnati.
    This, then, had to be the Good Samaritan. About thirty years old, she sat huddled under a brown blanket. Her green skirt stopped an inch above the bandages that covered her knees. She wore thick white socks on her feet, leaving her lower legs bare.
    Very nice legs, in fact. Shapely calves that he would have had to be blind not to notice. Deacon had issues with his eyes, but impaired vision had never been one of them.
    The woman’s deer-in-the-headlights expression might have simply been leftover shock, but as her gaze was focused on him, Deacon doubted it. He got that reaction a lot.
    ‘Hold it right there, buster.’
    Deacon stopped abruptly when a uniformed officer blocked his path. The officer eyed him with a mixture of incredulity, fascination and contempt. Another reaction that Deacon got a lot.
    ‘You can’t come through here, buddy,’ the officer said. ‘Please get back in your vehicle and go back the way you came.’
    I’m not your buddy, friend leapt to the tip of Deacon’s tongue, but he bit it back. Going for his badge with one hand, he took off his wraparound glasses with the other and fought not to squint at the intense glare of the setting sun. Leveling