“There’s a paved road about a quarter of a mile from here. The driver made it to the road, but after that it’s impossible to tell if he went east or west.”

“Mark the footprints and tire tracks. We need to save everything we can.” A lot of the evidence inside the house, if there was much, was being destroyed now by the paramedics. But that was how it went. Life before anything else.

He had been on the job long enough to savor enough wins to keep going, but there were more days twisted up with losses. All his years on the job weighed heavily on his shoulders now.

Inside the house, he heard the paramedics count to three and then raise the gurney and carry it down the few steps. Pausing, one kicked a lever, and the wheels dropped and snapped into place. A medic raised an IV bag as the trio rolled toward him.

Jordan’s head was now wrapped in white gauze, but already her wound was bleeding through.

“What’s her status?” Spencer asked.

“Breathing. Still not responsive to voice commands or pain stimuli,” the paramedic with the raised IV said.

The other rescue worker did not stop moving toward the rescue squad truck. “She’ll need an MRI and other tests to determine what damage has been done.”

Spencer matched their pace. “Where are you taking her?”

“Dell Seton Medical Center at UT in Austin. It has the best trauma medicine in the county.”

“Right. Thanks.” That put her thirty minutes from the emergency room. Enough time for a brain bleed to do serious damage.

He would follow as soon as he could, but for now his best work would happen at the crime scene. Jordan would have done the same.

As the ambulance’s back door closed with one paramedic at Jordan’s side, the other slid into the front seat. The lights and sirens flashed, and the vehicle raced toward the darkness.

Spencer stripped off his gloves and swapped them for a clean pair. He walked toward Jordan’s car and discovered the driver’s-side door ajar. Her keys remained in the ignition. She had come in, lights out no doubt, and eased out of her car. What had compelled her not to sit tight and wait? She was stubborn but not reckless, so something had triggered her.

Her purse had fallen to the passenger floor, and he slid behind the wheel and picked it up. He opened her wallet, noted her home address. He was not sure whom to notify and realized he did not know if she was married or living with someone or, God help her, had children waiting for her to come home. He punched her home address into his phone. He would stop by the house and notify her family. Shit. If he had been five minutes faster.