“Jen?”

The shrill sound came again, and Kennedy’s boots came unglued from the dirt quicker than a heartbeat. He ran around the dumpster, and there lay Jenette, her right arm and hand twisted and turned at unnatural angles. Her skirt had been ripped halfway off her, and the crotch of her leotard was unsnapped. Blood smeared her inner thighs.

“No!” Kennedy cried.

He knelt beside her, but he couldn’t think what to do. She was hurt. She was hurt badly. Sweet Jesus, show me what to do. Only nothing came to Kennedy. He was afraid to even touch her. She didn’t appear to be conscious. Her face was all red and puffy, like she’d been repeatedly struck by a fist. Anger roiled within him.

He leaped to his feet and raced back around the building. “I found Jen!” he yelled. “She’s hurt! Somebody call an ambulance! Tell them to hurry! I think she’s dying!”

And Kennedy truly believed that. The ground under her was soaked with blood, and he was afraid she was hemorrhaging internally from injuries he couldn’t see. He’d been scared a few times in his life, but never like this.

* * *

Wyatt was lunging a horse in the round pen when his cell phone vibrated, his signal that someone had texted him. He almost didn’t stop working to read it. Over time, he’d learned that texts could normally be ignored until he had time to look at them. But something, maybe a premonition, told him this message might be urgent. Foolishness. He didn’t get premonitions. Well, he had gotten some doom-and-gloom feelings a few times, but they’d never amounted to anything. He’d just been anxious about nothing.

Even so, Wyatt brought the horse down from its lope and drew out his phone. He was surprised to see that it had been Erin who contacted him. He started reading her text.

I’m on duty and just responded to an emergency call. Kennedy’s friend at the burger joint has been raped and beaten. Don’t know if she’ll pull through. Kennedy took off in his truck. I think he’s looking for the Sorensen kid, her ex-boyfriend. If he finds him before we do, he may kill him, and right now, I’d consider helping him do it. Find your brother, ASAP.

Wyatt almost didn’t answer Erin’s missive, but after handing off the horse to Tex for a rubdown, he drew his phone back out of his pocket as he left the barn and texted her back. Thanks for the heads-up. Going to look for him. Wish me luck.

Wyatt’s hands were shaking as he started his pickup. Kennedy was normally levelheaded, but when a guy cared about a girl and she got hurt by a jerk, all bets were off. Kennedy might do something totally idiotic if he found that boy.

It had been a long time since Wyatt had been a teenager. In fact, he guessed if he were honest, he’d never really been a normal teen. The boys his age hadn’t wanted to hang out with him. But Wyatt did remember the things those youngsters had done for kicks, and alcohol had almost always been part of their repertoire. After raping and beating a girl within an inch of her life, the Sorensen boy had to be scared, and Wyatt was willing to bet money that alcohol would be his sedative of choice. He pulled his truck over to the curb on West Main and texted Erin again.