Chapter 4

      Dillon arrived on the scene and placed the sweater in an evidence bag. Miranda called her mother to come get the children and take them home with her for the night, and Clay and Miranda were now in his truck following Dillon’s police car to the station to fill out a report.

      Dillon had questioned a lot of people at the fairgrounds as Clay remained with his arm around Miranda. She had trembled like a frightened dog in a thunderstorm despite his arm around her.

      He still couldn’t believe this had happened. What kind of a damned fool did something like this? He was still in a state of stunned horror.

      He now looked over at Miranda. In the dashboard illumination she was pale as a ghost. Her slender fingers nervously twined and untwined in her lap. He had his heater turned on as the night had grown cool and she was without her sweater, but she continued to shiver as if she couldn’t get warm...as if she’d never be warm again.

      “How are you doing?” he asked gently.

      She released a tremulous sigh. “I’m not sure. I’m still in a state of shock. What I’m trying to figure out is why anybody would have something like that at a carnival?”

      Clay clenched the steering wheel a little bit tighter. “I can’t imagine why anyone would ever have sulfuric acid anywhere but in a battery. It’s not exactly the kind of stuff you just put in a cup and walk around with.”

      “It had to have been in some kind of an open container. Did you see anyone holding anything strange?” Her voice held a slight tremor.

      “To be honest, I wasn’t paying attention to the people around us. I was just trying to get through the crowd with all of us together. I’m sorry.”

      She released a small, humorless laugh. “No need to apologize. Who knew we had to be on the lookout for a crazy acid thrower?”

      She shivered once again and Clay reached out and took one of her hands in his. “Dillon will be able to figure it all out,” he said with more conviction than he felt. “At least it didn’t splash on your skin.”

      “No, but it ate my favorite white sweater.”

      He squeezed her hand and then released it as he turned into a parking place in front of the Bitterroot Police Department. Dillon had disappeared around the corner to park in the back of the building.

      “Look at it this way, you can always get another white sweater, but you can’t get another pretty face,” he replied.

      He turned off the engine and together they got out of the truck and went through the front door where dispatcher Annie O’Brian greeted them in obvious surprise.

      Before they could speak, the door behind Annie’s desk opened and Dillon gestured for them to follow him down a hallway. Dillon’s private office was Spartan. No interesting pictures on the walls, no official-looking framed documents announcing Dillon’s awesomeness. There was just a large desk holding a computer and a framed picture of Cassie. A leather chair was behind the desk with two straight-backed chairs facing it.

      Dillon sat at the desk, and Clay and Miranda took the other chairs. As Clay eased down, the tension that had twisted in his guts finally eased a bit. However, it didn’t go away altogether. If that acid had hit anywhere else on Miranda it could have caused real harm to her.

      “So, tell me again exactly what happened,” Dillon said to Miranda. As she told him about being shoved aside and then the liquid being splashed on her, Clay’s stomach muscles twisted tight once again.

      Had she been pushed aside intentionally in an effort to isolate her from Clay and the children so the acid would only hit her? The thought of the attack being that personal chilled him to the bone.

      For him, the evening had only confirmed that he wanted to know more about her and spend more time with her. Being at the carnival with her and her children had made for one of the very best nights of his life...until the end.

      He believed tonight he’d seen the real Miranda, with a warm sparkle in her eyes and ready laughter on her lips. But at the moment he was frightened for her.

      “And neither of you saw who threw it?” Dillon asked.

      “Not me,” Clay replied with deep regret.

      “I have no idea who threw it on me,” Miranda replied. “There were so many people.”

      “Do you know of any reason anyone would want to do something like this to you?” Dillon asked.

      “I can’t imagine,” she replied, looking utterly bewildered.

      Clay was grateful to see some color returning to her cheeks. “What about those bone-headed kids we ran into?”

      “What kids?” Dillon asked.

      “We ran into Robby Davies, Glen Thompson and Jason Rogers,” she said. “They were showing off and being disrespectful. I think they’d imbibed in some liquid courage.”

      “I told Robby that someday somebody was going to give him a good ass-whooping.” A wave of horrifying guilt swept through him. “Oh, God, I hope I’m not responsible for the attack.”

      “Don’t even think that way,” Miranda instantly replied. “I can’t believe those boys would be responsible for something like this. They can be rowdy and sometimes a little mean, but this, it’s just too...too evil.”

      “I’ve had a few run-ins with Robby.” Dillon’s eyes were dark and thoughtful. “But mostly I’m called out to deal with him over a teenage fight. Certainly nothing as serious as this.”

      “And Hank wasn’t real happy to see me with Miranda,” Clay added.

      “Hank would never do something like this,” Miranda said firmly. “He might be the town drunk, but he isn’t capable of doing something like this to me.”

      “And neither of you remember anyone specific being around you when the acid was thrown?” Dillon asked again as a frown cut across his forehead.

      Both Miranda and Clay shook their heads. Dammit, he should have been more aware of things...of the people surrounding them. But how could he have anticipated that somebody would throw acid on Miranda? He still found it hard to believe...and horrifying that it had happened at all.

      What he wanted to do at this very moment was wrap his arms tightly around her and carry her off someplace where he knew she would be safe.

      “Have you had any fights or arguments with any parents at the school?” Dillon’s question pulled Clay from his thoughts. “Or maybe a coworker?”

      “No, nothing like that.” Miranda’s cheeks paled once again. “So you think this was a specific attack on me and not just some random thing?”

      Dillon’s frown deepened. “Right now I’m not sure what to think. I’m sending your sweater to the lab, but it will take a while to get back results. Before we left the carnival grounds I talked to dozens of people, but nobody confessed to seeing anything.”

      He stood. “I’ll question the boys and continue to investigate, but in the meantime the only advice I can give you is that you might watch your back and let me know immediately if anything else disturbing happens.”

      Miranda was shaken by the lawman’s words. Clay could tell by the darkening of her eyes and the way she half-stumbled out