Page 1 of Driven By Impulse

Prologue

Blood.

There was blood on the lip of the counter, smudged in the shape of fingerprints dragged along the Formica. Blood on the plastic tile floor, big drops, and smaller ones that showed an obvious trail, movement from one side of the room to the next.

One side of the room. One side of the house.

Out of the front door.

Hanna swallowed, but when she breathed through her mouth to avoid the lingering scent, her tongue tasted copper, like the air was tinged with metallic memories of what had happened in the hours since she had last stepped foot in the safe house.

Well, it was supposed to be a safe house. She couldn’t say for certain what it was now. Certainly, she was standing in the center of a crime scene, but without a clear head, it would be impossible for her to figure out exactly what kind of crime she was dealing with.

And as sheriff of Bitterroot County, it was her job.

But that wasn’t why her heart was pounding a hard, impatient staccato in her chest, and it wasn’t why her skin felt too hot against the cool metal of her service weapon, and it wasn’t why she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

“Grace!” Hanna moved through the small kitchen, careful to keep her weapon raised and her senses on high alert. The safe house was small enough that she could see most of the living room and partially into the bedroom without moving, but years of experience and good survival instinct told her not to trust the shadows at the corners of her eyes.

“Grace, it’s Sheriff Van Rijn, are you okay?”

Hanna stepped carefully across the kitchen floor, avoiding the blood droplets and broken glass. A cup lay sideways on the floor, and water darkened the mat before the sink, as if whoever had been drinking had been surprised mid-sip.

As if Grace had been surprised mid-sip.

Hanna shook her head and took another careful step out into the living room. When she had first arrived, she had raced inside at the sight of the open front door, splintered wood and hanging chains. Now she had to make sure she was truly alone.

From the far side of the house, Hanna heard the faint sound of a moan, and she steadied her nerves and strode quickly across the floor, checking both the front closet and under the couch as she moved with purpose. As she neared the bathroom, the sound got louder, and fear gripped Hanna’s gut and twisted.

Not fear for herself.

Fear for Grace Iverson. The woman she had promised to protect.

“County Sheriff, I’m coming in.”

“Hanna…please…”

Hanna almost dropped her gun at the sight in front of her, something she hadn’t even done in her rookie year on the force. But the first thing she saw when she pushed the door open was a bloom of sticky blood against bright white tiles.

Her gaze traveled up, as if in slow motion, until she laid eyes on her deputy, his hand pressed to his abdomen, both of which were covered in blood.

Hanna dropped to her knees and grabbed the nearest hand towel. “Frankie. Frankie, what happened?”

Frankie’s face was ashen white, a surefire sign he had lost too much blood, and she could see that even attempting to speak was costing him.

“I’m calling for help,” Hanna promised, pulling out her radio as she did. She directed dispatch to send an ambulance to the house as fast as possible, and tried not to think about just how far away the safe house was from the hospital.

Instead, she pressed the towel to Frankie’s wound. “Are they gone?” she asked. “You don’t have to speak, just nod.”

Frankie swallowed hard, and beads of sweat trickled down his neck. “They’re gone. But…but…”

Hanna shook her head. “Save your energy, Deputy. You need medical attention.”

At that, Frankie did shake his head. He was young, maybe in his mid-twenties, if that, but he was a hard worker and good backup in the field, which often made Hanna forget his age. She couldn’t forget it now, though. Fear and pain were making him look younger than his years, and he had lost the hardened edge she’d come to expect from him.

Which meant it would be up to her to keep him alive until the paramedics arrived.

“Sheriff… Hanna…” His hand, sticky with blood, reached for her arm. “They got her…They’re gone…but they got Grace, and they took her away.”