Thank God the state patrol had sent reinforcements, as had the sheriff in the adjoining county.

“You want me to do the booking honors?” Deke swiped his uniform sleeve across his forehead as the early afternoon sun blistered down on them.

“Happened on your watch. He’s all yours. I’ll handle thank-yous.” He motioned toward the troopers and deputies, who were preparing to leave the scene now that the situation was contained.

“That works.” Deke glanced toward the guy’s wife, who was hovering near the patrol car where her husband was secured, one of her eyes rapidly blackening. “Knowing this couple’s history, I predict he’ll convince her to take him back.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me.” According to Deke, the wife called 911 whenever her husband got abusive—but in the end, she always refused to press charges.

A classic example of the never-ending cycle of domestic violence.

“We can prosecute without her permission.” Deke kept tabs on the wife, who was inching closer to the patrol car.

“I know.” And with their incidents escalating to include firearms, that would be a prudent strategy.

“We can also get him on other charges.”

“Yeah.” Like resisting arrest and unlawful use of a weapon. Both Class D felonies, each carrying up to a seven-year sentence. “He overstepped this go-round.”

Nate’s phone began to vibrate—again. Two other calls had come in during the final few minutes of the tense standoff, and three prior to that, all of which he’d let roll.

Too bad this couldn’t have been a quiet Friday. What little stamina he had left was evaporating fast.

While he walked over to the troopers and deputies who were beginning to disperse, he pulled out his cell and skimmed the screen. The mayor’s office from one of the towns in his jurisdiction was calling.

He let it roll too. The political two-step would be too taxing at the moment.

As he approached the reinforcements who’d come to assist, he began to scroll through the other calls, listening to Grace’s brief, intriguing message from ten minutes ago before moving on. A return call to her zoomed to the top of his priority list.

Picking up his pace, he continued to skim his calls. Whoever else had phoned could—

He jolted to a stop.

Dave Mullins had called fifteen minutes ago.

Did that mean BK had contacted him about another victim?

Much as he wanted to give Grace priority, Dave had to come first.

He dispensed with his thank-you duties as fast as he could, lifted a hand in Deke’s direction as the chief deputy slid behind the wheel of his patrol car, and strode toward his own vehicle while he placed a return call to Mullins.

The man answered on the first ring, as if he’d had his phone in hand, waiting to pass on whatever news he had.

“Mr. Mullins, has BK contacted you?” He had no patience for pleasantries today, not after dealing with an armed standoff and battling the aftereffects of the flu.

“No. But I did come across what strikes me as a very odd coincidence. One that may identify BK.”