Dangerous by Diana Palmer Page B

attempted to help the victim. More police officers died responding to domestic disputes than almost any other job-related duty.
    Winnie had just dispatched a police officer to the scene of a motor vehicle accident, along with fire and rescue, and was waiting for further information.
    In between the calls, Shirley leaned over while the supervisor was talking to a visitor. “Did you hear about the break in the murder case?”
    “What break?”
    “They found Kilraven’s cell phone number clenched in the victim’s hand.”
    “Oh, that. Yes, Kilraven told me.”
    Shirley’s eyes twinkled. “Did he now? Might one ask what else he told you, all alone at his house?”
    “How do you know we went to his house?” Winnie asked, blushing.
    “A few people told us. There was a sheriff’s deputy, Chief Grier, a fireman, a funeral director…”
    Winnie laughed. “I should have known.”
    “They did all just mention that you and Kilraven were drinking coffee at a picnic table, outside in the freezing cold,” Shirley added.
    “Well, Kilraven felt that we shouldn’t start gossip.”
    “As if.” Shirley chuckled. “What were you talking about?” she added slyly.
    “The murder case,” Winnie said with a grin. “No, really, we were,” she added when she saw her coworker’s expression. “You remember Senator Fowler’s kitchen help died mysteriously after she gave some information to Alice Jones, the coroner’s investigator from San Antonio, about the victim? Now there’s gossip the murder might be linked to other murders in San Antonio.” It was safe to tell her that. No way was she going to add that Kilraven’s family might be involved.
    “Wow,” Shirley exclaimed softly.
    “Heads up,” Winnie whispered, grinning and turned away before Maddie Sims came toward them. The older woman never jumped on them about talking because they only passed remarks back and forth during lulls in the operations, but she did like them to pay attention on the job. She would know what they did anyway because everything was recorded when they were working. Maddie would be diplomatic about it, though.
    Winnie smiled as Maddie passed. A message from the police officer responding to the wreck was just coming in, requesting a want and warrants on a car tag. She turned back to her console and began typing in the numbers.

    I T WAS A BUSY NIGHT . There was an attempted suicide, which, fortunately, they were able to get help dispatched in time. There were assorted sick calls, one kitchen fire, several car versus deer reports, two domestic calls, a large animal in the road and three drunk driver reports, only one of which resulted in an arrest. Often a drunk driver was reported on the highway, but no good description of the vehicle or direction of travel was given and it was a big county. Occasionally, an observant citizen could provide a description and tag number, but not always. Unless a squad car was actually in the area of the report, it was difficult sometimes to pursue. You couldn’t pull an officer off the investigation of an accident or a burglary or a robbery, she mused, to go roaming the county looking for an inebriated driver, no matter how much the officers would like to catch one.
    At break, she and Shirley worried about the assault on Rick Marquez.
    “I hope he’s not going to be attacked again, when he goes back to work. Somebody wants this case covered up pretty badly,” Shirley said.

    “Yes,” Winnie agreed, “and it looks like this is only the tip of the iceberg. We still have that mangled murder victim in our county. Senator Fowler’s hired help told Alice Jones something about him and the poor woman was murdered in a way that made it look like suicide. Now there’s an attempt on Rick, who’s been helping investigate it.”
    “He’s lucky he has such a hard head,” Shirley said.
    “And that his partner went searching for him when he didn’t turn up to look at some paperwork she’d just found. Yes, I heard