Truth Be Told
Author: Kendra Elliot
Date: 2017-11-07 05:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Mystery; Romantic Suspense; Suspense; Novella; Romance; Thriller; Fiction; Crime; Adult; Contemporary
Description: A torrential two-day storm has cut off the small town of Solitude, Oregon, from the outside world. But for police officers Stevie Duncan and her husband, Zane, the ravages of nature have nothing on the nature of man. In the last forty-eight hours, a child was a mute witness to a double homicide; an unidentified body has washed up on the riverbanks; and now, at the foot of a submerged bridge, two FBI agents have been found shot to death inside their SUV. What’s worse, the young charge they were enlisted to protect has gone missing. With the only exit out of town washed away, Stevie and Zane kno
Publisher: Montlake Romance

Table of Contents

- CHAPTER ONE
- CHAPTER TWO
- CHAPTER THREE
- CHAPTER FOUR
- CHAPTER FIVE
- CHAPTER SIX
- CHAPTER SEVEN
- CHAPTER EIGHT
- CHAPTER NINE

ALSO BY KENDRA ELLIOT

Mercy Kilpatrick Novels

A Merciful Death

A Merciful Truth

Bone Secrets Novels

Hidden

Chilled

Buried

Alone

Known

Bone Secrets Novellas

Veiled

Callahan & McLane Novels
Part of the Bone Secrets World

Vanished

Bridged

Spiraled

Targeted

Rogue River Novellas

On Her Father’s Grave (Rogue River)

Her Grave Secrets (Rogue River)

Dead in Her Tracks (Rogue Winter)

Death and Her Devotion (Rogue Vows)

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Text copyright © 2017 by Kendra Elliot

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

Published by Montlake Romance, Seattle
www.apub.com

Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Montlake Romance are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.

eISBN: 9781503933606

Cover design by Eileen Carey

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

CHAPTER ONE

As rain pounded on her police hat, Stevie Duncan swallowed hard at the sight of blood and brains splattered across the inside of the SUV’s cracked windshield.

The two victims slumped in the front seats, held in place by their seat belts, bullet entry wounds in the backs of their heads. The fronts of their heads lacked crucial parts due to the destruction of the exiting bullets.

They never saw it coming.

They were well dressed in suits and decent shoes. Completely inappropriate for the storm that’d been raging over southwest Oregon for the last several days. From what she could see of it, both men wore their hair neat and short. A leather strap caught her eye, and she carefully lifted the lapel of the driver’s coat out of the way with a pen. He wore an empty shoulder holster.

Shit.

“Know them?” she asked Walter, a Solitude senior citizen, as he peered over her shoulder.

“Nope. Never seen them before in my life. Clearly they’re not from around these parts.” Walter’s vomit-scented breath blocked out the metallic and sewage smells from the car. The man had called the Solitude Police Department to report that an SUV had blocked the road at the submerged west bridge. And that there were two dead people inside.

Solitude was in a state of emergency. Days of heavy rain had washed out roads and raised the Rogue River to an alarming level. Even at the police station, water had backed up through the drains and into their single holding cell. Neighborhoods had been cut off by water flowing over the roads, and now the river had blocked the last exit out of town. Two feet of a rushing, muddy-colored wash flowed over the bridge, and a large portion of the guardrail had vanished.

Driving over the bridge would be suicide.

Feeling like she had a target on her back, Stevie scanned the area, her hand on her weapon, knowing the shooter could still be near. The two-lane bridge was in the middle of nowhere. To her right was a national forest, and to the left was a swampy pasture that backed up to a curve of the Rogue River. They were two miles out of Solitude.

Where’d our killer go?

“No one wears suits around here unless they’re goin’ to church,” stated Walter solemnly. “And I don’t think that’s where they were headed.” He crossed himself. “Poor buggers.”

A Solitude Police Department SUV parked by her cruiser, and the police chief got out. Zane Duncan was tall, well over six feet. His usual slow smile was missing, but his eyes lit up when he met her gaze.

My husband.

Four months of marriage.

How long before the butterflies in her stomach stopped having a party every time she saw him?

“How are you, Walter?” Zane shook the older man’s hand. “Tell me what happened.”

Walter launched into the same story he’d told Stevie. He’d been headed to Hannon when he drove up behind the SUV stopped at the bridge. He realized there was no crossing the bridge, and one of the SUV’s back doors was wide open. Being a neighborly sort, he went to check on the occupants and promptly threw up his chicken fried steak from breakfast.

“Run the plate?” Zane asked Stevie.

“Not yet. I checked to see if anything could be done first.” She looked away. “I confirmed there wasn’t a pulse on either of them. As you’ll see, there was no hope. They were already cold. And Zane”—she paused—“the driver is missing a weapon from his shoulder holster. I didn’t check the passenger.”

Zane scowled and nodded. “Run the plate while I take a look.”

Stevie slipped into her cruiser and tapped some keys. She blinked at the results. The SUV was a federal government vehicle. “Oh no.” Could it be . . .

She jogged back to the SUV, brushing the rain out of her eyes, and saw Zane take something from one of the bodies. He straightened, a wallet in his hand.

“Zane. The SUV belongs to the government.”

Zane glanced back at Walter, who’d stepped away a respectful distance, his back to the officers, pretending to take interest in the river’s rising water but not quite out of hearing distance. Zane flipped open the wallet and held it up for her to see the ID and badge. “FBI agents. They must be the ones who were taking Liam Pierce home,” he said in a hushed voice.

“The child that was staying with my mother?”

“Yes.” The word was clipped. “The one who was found chained in a basement with two dead bodies upstairs.”

Stevie was stunned. Last night two men had attacked her family at her mother’s home, trying to get six-year-old Liam. One shooter had ended up dead at the hands of her brother-in-law, Seth, and the other was sitting in the county jail. The young boy had been picked up this morning by his uncle Marcus and the two FBI agents who’d spent the last three months searching for the child.

“Where are Liam and his uncle?” Stevie spun in a circle, wondering if she’d missed a sign of them. Both shoulders of the road were pure mud from the days of rain, but there were no footprints. With the amount of water that had fallen every hour, she knew any evidence would have been washed away. “Who would shoot the agents and take the child? And the uncle?”

“Or Liam and Marcus ran,” added Zane. “I know it’s wet, but they could have been out of the vehicle before the shooter killed the agents.”

“Could Marcus have been the shooter?”

“I can’t see it,” said Zane. “Seth said the uncle was sick over the missing boy and relieved to find out he was still alive. We need to start a search for Liam and his uncle,” ordered Zane. “Call county—shit!”

There would be no access to Solitude for the search and rescue team from the county sheriff’s department right now. Solitude was essentially an island surrounded by the river and floodwaters. No one could get in or out.

“They can’t process the scene or take the bodies to the morgue either,” Stevie pointed out. “We’ll have to handle it on our own.”

How are we going to move them?

She’d never appreciated the medical examiner’s crew as much as she did at this exact moment. Tiny Solitude didn’t have the experts to handle the murder of federal agents. They relied on the county or state police.

Zane blanched. “I think we should process the scene the best we can, document everything, and then tow and store the vehicle with the bodies inside. We can make room for them in the storage unit until we get the proper help.”

“No—”

“We’ve got no choice.” His face was stone. “These are murdered federal agents.”

It felt like desecration to Stevie, but Zane was right. As much as she wanted to remove and respect the bodies, they had nowhere to store them, and they needed to keep the scene as intact as possible until expert help could arrive.

“I’ll call for a tow and get Kenny and Carter out here. Our first priority is to search for Liam and his uncle. They could be injured.”

Walter cleared his throat, and both officers turned toward him. “I often join the county SAR team with Whiskey.”

Stevie pictured Walter with a fifth of whiskey in his hand, tramping through the forest. “Oh! Your dog, Whiskey.”

Walter gave a small bow. “Whiskey and I are the best trackers in the southern half of the state. Rain or snow. We’re your team.”

She glanced at Zane, who asked, “How soon can you be ready?”

“I can be back in fifteen minutes. Sounds like we’ve got no time to lose with a child missing.” He darted to his beat-up pickup with a fresh perk in his step.

“What if they caught a ride with someone?” Stevie suggested.

“Don’t you think Marcus would have called the police by now to report the murders?” He exhaled. “Either they’re still running or they were both taken.”

“But by who?”

“The Dodge brothers are still missing,” Zane pointed out. The two Portland elk hunters originally suspected of murdering the young couple found with Liam Pierce had escaped the Solitude police. That theory wasn’t true, of course, because Seth had shot the couple’s killer last night.

The police had come to the conclusion that the Dodge brothers were harmless idiots, but Stevie couldn’t think of anyone in their small town who might have an interest in Liam Pierce. Plus, the Dodge brothers had conveniently vanished . . .

Did they fool us?

“I thought this was over,” Stevie said. “I thought Liam was safe with his uncle and the threat was gone. Instead the boy is missing again.”

“What about his father, Wade Pierce?” Zane asked. “Would he kill two FBI agents to get his son back?”

Wade was wanted for stealing $10 million from his employer, Knight Products. At first it was believed that he’d killed his wife and kidnapped Liam also, but the men who had attacked Stevie’s family last night had done both of those crimes.

“Good question,” said Stevie. “No one’s seen him in three months—since he was accused of his wife’s murder—but now that charge will be dropped.”

“We’ve also got a John Doe at the medical examiner’s office.”

“The body that washed up on the riverbank yesterday.” Stevie was thankful she hadn’t been present at that recovery. Reportedly, the body had been battered and swollen from its time in the rough water. “Is the drowning connected to all of this?” Stevie whispered. Solitude was a small rural town where usually nothing ever happened. It’d been a quiet four months since their wedding, and now they had multiple dead bodies and missing people.

It couldn’t be a coincidence.

“I want to find out what happened to the boy and Marcus.” Zane took a few steps toward the rushing water, his gaze grim. “They couldn’t have gone far—alone or with the killer. Either they followed the road back to town, or they went into the woods. There’s no way they crossed the bridge.”

Stevie eyed the violent, brown water crashing past them. It was strong enough to sweep away and tear apart a heavy vehicle. What would it do to a small boy?

###

A half hour later, Zane surveyed the help he had assembled.

Not a bad crew. I could do a lot worse.

Officer Kenny Fox was taking approximately 2 million photos of the crime scene. He would stay behind and supervise the towing of the vehicle back to the storage unit near the police department. Kenny was a bit forgetful but enthusiastic and eager to please. Zane was confident he could handle the job.

Sorta confident.

His other officer, Carter, stood ready to search, well equipped in rainproof gear and shouldering a backpack of supplies. He was an avid hiker and camper, rain or shine. Stevie was talking with her two brothers, both of whom had volunteered to join the tracking team. Her younger brother, Bruce, was a county deputy but was off duty for a few days; otherwise he would have been stuck on the other side of the bridge. Her older brother, James, was the mayor of Solitude. Zane had never pictured James as an outdoor kind of guy, but he had on good boots and the right coat, and he projected a resolute attitude. He had two sons close to Liam’s age. The determined look in his eyes said he took the hunt personally.

Zane had married into a big family. Stevie’s mother; her sister, Carly; her sister-in-law, Debra; and her brother-in-law, Seth, were the only adult members not present. All except Debra were recovering, exhausted from the shooting at Stevie’s mother’s home last night. They’d wanted to join the search, but Zane had overruled them. “I’ll call you if we need more eyes and ears. We’ve got a good number at the moment.”

Bruce had also been at the shooting, but Zane had accepted his help because Patsy said he’d been pacing the house and driving her nuts. Bruce’s training officer had been badly injured last night. Luckily, he’d been taken to the hospital before the bridge was impassable.

What if we have another medical emergency?

Zane didn’t want to think about it. He could handle small medical problems but a life-and-death situation? He made a mental list of people with medical knowledge in town. Stevie’s mother, Patsy, was pretty sharp about medical treatment. And there was a new psychiatrist in town . . . Dean something. He would have medical experience.

After Seth had informed Zane that the dead agents were from Seattle, Zane had immediately called the office. The Seattle Special Agent in Charge (SAC) was shocked and was sending more agents to investigate, hoping that Solitude would be accessible by the time they arrived.

The SAC had his own piece of news for Zane. Yesterday, Wade Pierce had been traced to a motel in Coos Bay on the Oregon coast, confirming the theory that the father was in the immediate area. “There’s only one reason he can be down there,” the SAC said to Zane. “He wants his boy back.”

Zane agreed, remembering Seth had told him yesterday that he and Senior Deputy Gabe Rogers had found evidence that someone had been in an unoccupied cabin at the resort outside of town. Had it been Wade? “Do you think he would kill to get his son?

“I’ve got two dead agents that make that a distinct possibility.”

“But what about Liam’s uncle? What could his involvement be?”

“Marcus is Wade’s brother-in-law, not his brother. I don’t know how far his family loyalties extend, but since Wade hasn’t contacted Marcus in three months, I imagine their relationship isn’t the best.”

“Are you certain Wade hasn’t contacted Marcus?” asked Zane.

The line was silent for a long moment. “It’s possible. But why wouldn’t Marcus tell us?”

“I can think of ten million reasons,” Zane pointed out, reminding the agent of the money Wade stole.

Their call ended, and Zane turned in a slow circle, studying his wet surroundings, half expecting to spot Wade Pierce. Is Wade trapped in Solitude with the rest of us?

Wade Pierce might have two federal murders on his hands. A lot of men would kill to get their child back. Was Wade one of them?

Is Marcus working with him?

But why wouldn’t Marcus meet up with Wade after returning safely home with Liam?

None of it was making sense. Whatever the answer was, there was a killer somewhere in Solitude, boxed in by the flooding.

Waiting with the rest of the search and rescue crew, Whiskey caught Zane’s attention as the dog jumped up and left dirty paw prints on Walter’s jacket. Walter had a gleam in his eyes, indicating he was pumped for the hunt. Zane had doubted his stamina when he first saw Walter on the scene, but now he seemed twenty years younger. He stood straighter and exuded an aura of command. A totally different person than the guy Zane had once thrown in his holding cell for being drunk and pissing on a tourist’s car bumper.

Walter led Whiskey to the open back door of the vehicle and let him sniff, but he kept the muddy-pawed dog from jumping in. The canine and his handler circled the SUV, Whiskey sniffing at every little thing. The four-legged searcher appeared to be a blend of German shepherd and something big.

“Probably part Bernese mountain dog,” Stevie had guessed earlier.

Gorgeous animal.

“He’s not officially trained,” Walter had admitted. “I’d noticed he could sniff out anything, did some reading up on the subject, and then worked with him the best I could. He’s pretty good as long as a rabbit or squirrel doesn’t run by. We’ve found five lost campers and hikers in the last few years.”

Sounded good to Zane.

After circling the vehicle a second time, Whiskey barked and pulled on his leash, heading across the road toward the woods. “That means he’s on a trail!” Walter hollered over his shoulder.

That shakes up the theories that Liam and Marcus were picked up or walked the road back to town.

“Hold up a minute,” Zane yelled back as his cell phone vibrated.

Walter told the dog to sit and it promptly sat, but it wiggled its butt, eager to rocket into the dark, wet forest.

“Duncan,” he said into his phone.

“Hank here. I have a question about the floater from yesterday.”

An image of the Santa-esque medical examiner’s bushy eyebrows immediately popped into Zane’s head. The brows had a life of their own, with wirelike hairs that nearly climbed up Hank’s forehead.

“What is it?”

“He’s got a tattoo. Wondered if it might ring a bell. It’s an anchor on his right deltoid. Poor quality.”

Zane figured Hank had seen enough tattoos in his career to be a decent judge of quality. “I can’t say that sounds familiar, but I’ll ask around. We’re lucky we got that body to you in time. We lost the west bridge a few hours ago, so Solitude is now completely cut off from the rest of the world.”

“Sounds like utopia to me.”

“Except that I’ve got two more customers for you,” added Zane. “Two FBI agents were shot in their heads this morning.”

Zane jerked the phone away from his ear as Hank swore like a cheated drug dealer.

“Since county can’t get here,” Zane continued. “I’ll have the vehicle towed without removing the bodies. I know that’s not ideal, but I can’t think of a better solution to preserve the scene.”

“That’s the best we can expect in an emergency situation like this,” agreed Hank. “If an ark appears later today, use that to ship them to me.”

“I’ll keep a lookout.” Zane ended the call.

He gestured for his team to close in. “Keep your eyes open and be ready. Wade Pierce was spotted less than fifty miles from here, but whoever shot those agents is in Solitude somewhere and will probably shoot again if threatened.” Everyone was armed except James, who Zane told to stay in the middle of the group.

He prayed they weren’t walking into an ambush and gave Walter a thumbs-up. The dog handler gave his dog a command and nearly had his arm yanked off as Whiskey leaped forward.

The four other team members fell into line behind Zane, Carter bringing up the rear as they followed the dog.

Whiskey set a good pace, keeping everyone at a fast walk. The ground in the woods was rough with exposed roots, rocks, and ferns. Multiple wet branches slapped Zane in the face as they pushed through the brush. He kept watch for any sign that someone else had followed the same path—broken branches or footprints. But he spotted nothing due to Whiskey’s speed, so he had to trust the dog’s sense of smell.

Behind him, Stevie swore, and Zane turned around to see her yank her boot out of a deep mudhole. She gave him a rueful grin and kept moving.

The terrain started to slope downward and the crashing rush of the river grew louder.

Shit.

Don’t be in the water.

The Rogue River had risen several feet over the last few days. It was eating away at the banks and eroding the ground-holding roots of tall firs, sweeping them downstream. The water was a muddy, churned-up brown instead of its usual semiclear blue or green. Zane typically thought of it as a friendly river, but now it was deadly.

Not always friendly.

Lives were lost every year to the river. He shoved aside a memory that swarmed to the front of his brain and concentrated on his foot placement instead, not wanting to slip and land on his ass.

He glanced back at the sound of an exclamation and saw that Bruce had done exactly that. James helped haul him up, but the deputy’s pants and gloves were covered in mud. Bruce stared at his filthy gloves for a long second, shrugged, and pressed on.

Good man.

Stevie’s brother had been struggling for several years, living in his mother’s basement, floating from dead-end job to nonpaying job, determined to make a living from his music. The death of his girlfriend and a life-threatening injury had brought him to his lowest point, but he’d turned himself around, surprising everyone by attending the state’s police academy. He’d emerged dependable and mature. Two words Zane had never associated with Bruce.

Between the trees, Zane caught glimpses of the angry river. The terrain abruptly dropped, and everyone stepped sideways down the slope in the direction of the water. A fir tree sped through the water, a deadly battering ram to anything in its way. Zane pictured it crashing into Solitude’s west bridge. Which would shatter, the tree or the bridge?

“Don’t get too close to the water!” Zane cupped his hands around his mouth to be heard. The din from the river drowned out the possibility of conversation. Walter raised a hand in acknowledgment. Whiskey had slowed about fifteen feet from the bank, pacing in a circle with his nose to the ground. He lunged to the right, moving upstream, parallel to the rapids.

The team clumsily climbed over rocks and tree stumps, keeping one eye on the dog and the other on the water. Whiskey charged ahead, making Walter scramble up and over a large fallen fir. They vanished on the other side of the trunk, and Zane’s heart stopped for a split second. He climbed up the rotting bark and looked down. Below him, Whiskey sat on the muddy bank, his head held proudly as Walter scratched his ears. Walter looked up at Zane, his gaze defeated.

At Whiskey’s feet was a small boy’s jacket.

Zane checked the immediate area. No child was visible. A chill swept up his spine, and he shuddered as he looked at the river.

Not again.

His locked-down memory exploded out of its shackles.

###

Five years ago

It was a blistering-hot day in July, but the trees provided a cooling shade, making Zane thankful the hunt for the young boy wasn’t taking place in a wheat field. “Big” Bill Taylor led the search party through the woods. Zane had been hired by the Solitude Police Department the month before and had decided he wanted to be like Chief Taylor when he grew up. The man was a true cop: compassionate, honest, sharp, and determined to help his community.

The eight-year-old son of a tourist had been swimming in the Rogue River near a campground when he’d vanished. Chief Taylor had grimly shaken his head when he got the news. “There’s a reason the sign says no swimming in that area. Hidden currents can yank a full-grown man below the surface and keep him down for hours.”

They’d been following the riverbank, moving downstream from the campground for over an hour. Chief Taylor knew the exact location of all the river’s eddies that could harbor a victim, a testament to the many times he’d performed this type of search. Half the team followed on the opposite bank, hoping to sight a flash of skin or the child’s red swimsuit.

Zane knew they’d find the child still alive, but Chief Taylor wasn’t as optimistic.

“Get your heart and mind ready, son,” he told Zane. “You have to be prepared during an event like this. Hope for the best, but prepare for the worst. You’ll sleep better at night.”

Zane refused to acknowledge that the child might be dead. “I’m all about positive thinking, Chief. It attracts the good in life.”

Bill’s weathered face turned toward him, his brown eyes kind. “I like your attitude, but if you don’t start adjusting your expectations, this job is going to rip your heart out. Solitude may be a small town, but we still see the underbelly of man; it can be ugly and mean. Nature is too. One minute it’s glorious, and the next minute it’s a killer.”

The words were barely out of the chief’s mouth when a shout went up behind them. Bill and Zane reversed direction along the bank, Zane’s heart in his throat.

Behind a huge rock, a whirlpool spun. Zane and the chief had already checked the pool and moved on. But now they saw a small hand caught in underwater vines deep below the surface. The murky water had hidden it the first time. It vanished as they watched.

Sweat broke out on his forehead. Zane pushed through the group and unbuckled his duty belt, shoving it into the hands of another officer. He’d stepped into the water when a big hand clamped down on his shoulder.

“Stand down, son.” Zane looked over his shoulder into sympathetic, dark eyes.

“I’ve got to get him out!”

“It’s too late for the boy. And he’s not going anywhere.”

“You don’t know it’s too late!”

Fingertips dug into his shoulder, holding him in place. “Yes, I do. I’m real sorry it ended this way. We’re going to rope Officer Jacobs and have him go in for the boy. He knows how to handle himself in a whirlpool.”

Zane stared back to the water. Again the tiny hand was swallowed up for a moment and then reappeared, showing skin up to the elbow. It swayed back and forth with the current, giving the impression that the boy was waving for help.

Reality crashed into him, and Zane knew better.

He brushed at a tickle on his cheek and his hand came away wet. “Dammit. God fucking dammit!” He grabbed back his duty belt, and the group parted to let him escape. He blindly walked into the woods, not caring about his direction. A minute later he stopped, leaned one hand against a tree, and cried.

###

“One minute it’s glorious and the next minute it’s a killer.”

“What’d you say?” Stevie asked, startling Zane out of his memory as she reached the top of the rotting downed tree trunk. “Oh no,” she whispered as she spotted the yellow coat.

“I didn’t say anything,” said Zane. He put a hand on her shoulder, and she turned tear-filled eyes toward him.

He’d forgotten she had her father’s eyes.

She reminded him of Bill Taylor in several ways. Tall, rangy, and stubborn but with a compassionate heart of gold. Her brother James joined them on Stevie’s other side, panting and out of breath. He leaned his hands on his thighs and swore quietly at the sight of the coat.

“That was my son’s coat,” James said, rubbing a hand across his mouth. “We loaned Mom some clothes for Liam.” His face had turned a sickly pale shade.

“Are you sure?” asked Zane.

“Positive. I’d know it anywhere. See the Transformers’ Bumblebee on the sleeve?”

Zane realized what he had thought was mud on the coat was the black-and-yellow Autobot.

Now what?

“Can he pick up any other scents?” he hollered at Walter.

The handler led the dog in expanding circles, giving vocal commands that Zane couldn’t quite hear. The dog kept returning to the jacket. He finally sat next to it and refused to circle again, keeping his face turned toward the water.

“Dammit.”

CHAPTER TWO

Stevie jogged up the steps to the Tall Tree Inn, holding her hat brim low over her face against the rain. According to Sheila, the police department’s receptionist, Miss Penny was worried about a customer who was missing from her bed-and-breakfast.

The search for Liam and his uncle Marcus had been unsuccessful, and Stevie had struggled to get on with her day, unable to push the sight of the lonely coat out of her mind. Zane had bagged the yellow coat, and they’d spent another hour searching the immediate area. No footprints, no nothing.

Did he fall into the river?

It made no sense. Why would a child take off a coat in the pouring rain? Clearly the water was dangerous, and no adult would let him near it. Unless he got separated from his uncle.

Where does the sighting of Wade Pierce fit in?

Too many unanswered questions.

Dragging the river was out of the question. Any investigation of the water was unsafe at the moment. Zane said they’d regroup and choose their next course of action back at the police department in a few hours. Stevie didn’t know what action that would be. They had no leads on the shooter or Liam and his uncle. Walter and Whiskey had tried to pick up more scents back at the crime scene and had been unsuccessful.

They’d agreed to assume Liam was still alive and hadn’t gone into the water. They would continue their search for the boy and his uncle.

The tow truck had been loading the FBI’s black vehicle when their search group had emerged from the woods, soaked and depressed. Zane wanted to supervise the remainder of the process and had stayed behind. Carter had told Stevie that the police department was getting multiple calls, including one about Miss Penny’s missing customer. They couldn’t ignore their community during the heart of a weather emergency.

Stevie stepped inside the B&B’s charming lobby and removed her hat. She’d cleaned off her boots the best she could, but she didn’t dare wear them on the lobby’s antique rugs. She slipped off the boots and set them on the convenient shoe tray by the door, happy to see that her socks were still dry after hours in the muck.

“Hello, dearie.” Miss Penny appeared from her kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron.

Only Miss Penny could get away with calling her dearie.

A former schoolteacher, the tall and sturdy spinster ran her business with the firm hand and gentle smile Stevie remembered from her school years.

“Thank you for removing your boots. You wouldn’t believe the cleanup I’ve had to do on these rugs with the crazy days of rain.”

“We’ve all been battling it,” answered Stevie, noticing the woman still wore her hair in her decades-old gray, braided bun. She and Bruce had a fifty-dollar bet on when Miss Penny would finally wear a different style. Stevie believed never; Bruce still held out hope. “Sheila said you have a missing person?”

Miss Penny frowned. “Yes. I wondered if I should bother the police with something that might be trivial, but with the last few days of ruckus and the storm, I figured someone should know.” She lowered her voice. “He’s a tourist, and we all know how they are with these storms. They just don’t take them seriously enough. They want to get as close to the danger as possible and take a photo to show all their friends on that Picturebook.”

Facebook. Stevie pulled out a small notepad. “Tell me what you know.”

According to Miss Penny, Robert Singleton had checked in three days ago and was scheduled to check out that morning. He’d told her he was headed to Medford for Thanksgiving. He’d taken a leisurely drive down the Oregon coast from Astoria and then checked into her B&B for a few nights before going to see family. Yesterday, he hadn’t shown up for any meals, but Miss Penny hadn’t worried about it. When he didn’t check out by the required time this morning, she knocked on his door.

“I had to get my key,” she admitted. “That’s not something I like to do when a room is occupied . . . you never know what you’ll catch people doing. One time I walked in on a lusty couple who hadn’t heard me knock. I’d heard their noise and knew exactly what they were up to, but I’m firm on my checkout times.” She leaned closer to Stevie. “And they weren’t married anyway. I don’t run that kind of place.”

Stevie bit her lip and nodded solemnly, making notes.

“Anyway, Mr. Singleton’s room still had his clothes in the closet and his toothbrush by the sink. You can tell when someone leaves; they always pack their toothbrush. They leave behind shampoo, books, and socks, but never their toothbrush.”

“Did Mr. Singleton leave his wallet or cell phone behind?”

“I didn’t see them.”

“Do you have a home address or phone number for him?”

“No. The only information I take is their credit card and an e-mail.” She pursed her lips. “E-mails are like gold these days. I always send out notices when I’m running a special on my rooms. It’s greatly improved my return-customer rate.”

“Can I take a look in his room?”

Miss Penny led the way to a room on the second floor and opened the door. Stevie noted the bed was unmade, the impression of a head still in the pillow. Some clothing was tossed on the bed, and Miss Penny had been right about the toothbrush. Other toiletries sat on the counter, and Stevie eyed the razor. It was the type that took actual razor blades, and one was still loaded in its head. Suicide was always considered with a missing person, and a razor’s blade would be an effective tool, but she didn’t think he would have told Miss Penny he was going home for Thanksgiving and left his room such a mess. People who commit suicide often clean their spaces, not wanting anyone to have to clean up behind them. She peeked in drawers and under the bed, but nothing caught her interest.

They went back downstairs so Miss Penny could retrieve his e-mail address. In the lobby, an expensively dressed blonde woman paced, a cell phone and a tablet in her hands. She stopped as she spotted the two of them. “When will the Wi-Fi be restored?” she asked, a stressed look in her eyes.

“I don’t know,” Miss Penny said. “I’ve called the company and it’s down everywhere. They’re doing the best they can . . . I told you that an hour ago. There’s a storm going on, you know. It’ll be available when it’s available.” Stevie’s posture automatically straightened at the familiar sound of Miss Penny’s emphatic teaching tone. “And the almond milk for your latte hasn’t magically appeared yet either. Stevie, I’ll go get that e-mail for you.”

Concerned, Stevie held out a hand to the woman. “Stevie Duncan, Solitude Police. Is there anything you need help with?”

The woman paused a second before shaking Stevie’s hand and plastering a smile on her face. “Dawn Hazelwood. Only if you have Wi-Fi in your holster. The cellular service isn’t consistent at all either.”

“We’re thankful the town still has electricity,” said Stevie. “That will probably be out before nightfall,” she added. “Is the lack of Wi-Fi causing big issues for you?”

“I can’t get my work e-mails. And both the cellular service and landlines are down. I need to keep in touch.”

“Were you planning to stay long? The last bridge is currently underwater. No one will be leaving Solitude until the river goes down.”

“Are you joking? People can’t get in or out? When did that happen?”

“Early this morning.”

Dawn looked at her cell phone, a scowl marring her perfect features.

“What brings you to Solitude?” Her curiosity was piqued by the woman’s frustration.

Dawn’s chin raised a notch. “I was passing through on my way to conduct some sales business. I stopped for the night, but I didn’t expect to get stuck. I haven’t been able to contact my customers to say I might not make it.”

“I hope you can make it. Who do you work for?”

As the front door of the B&B opened, Dawn looked past Stevie and a feline quality entered her eyes. The businesswoman had been replaced by a siren.

Zane.

Glancing over her shoulder, Stevie confirmed her deduction as her wet husband wiped his feet on the doormat. Good luck, Dawn.

Dawn projected her voice past Stevie. “I don’t suppose you’ve brought Wi-Fi with you, Officer?”

Zane sat his boots next to Stevie’s, joined the group, and shook Dawn’s hand. “’Fraid not. I’m Chief Duncan. Anything I can help you with besides the Internet?”

“Duncan . . .” Dawn’s gaze went to the cloth tape on Stevie’s coat that stated her new married last name. Within a tenth of a second, she took in the wedding rings and met Stevie’s calm eyes. The siren vanished.

“I don’t think so,” Dawn answered politely. “I understand I’m stuck in your tiny town until the river goes down?”

“Looks that way. As soon as one of the bridges is clear, I’ll get an engineer from the county to check it out, and then we’ll open it up.” He glanced at her boots. “Is that your Escalade in the parking lot?”

“Yes.”

“Glad to see you’ve got four-wheel drive. You might need it.”

“I heard you had a shooting in town last night. Is it safe around here?”

Stevie narrowed her brows. The gossip train had already reached the tourists.

“The shooters were caught,” answered Zane in his police-chief voice. “But I always encourage people to lock their doors and be aware of their surroundings.”

He didn’t mention that morning’s shooting.

“What happened? Someone said a child was involved,” Dawn pressed. “Is he okay?”

“The child wasn’t injured.”

The hair rose on the back of Stevie’s neck. Dawn appeared too interested for an out-of-towner. “Who’d you say you work for again?” she asked.

The woman’s gaze cooled. “I didn’t say. I don’t work for anyone; I’m a business owner.”

“Always best to be the boss,” chimed in Miss Penny as she reappeared. She handed Stevie a piece of paper with the missing man’s e-mail. “Can I get you some coffee to go, Officers?”

Stevie and Zane declined and said their goodbyes.

Outside, Zane led her around to the parking lot and pointed at a new white Escalade with all the bells and whistles. “See the parking sticker? I noticed it on the way in. Of course, the vehicle is the type that’s hard to miss around here.”

Stevie squinted to read the sticker. “Defendicon. What’s that?”

“They make well-regarded equipment for the police and military. Remember the guy they caught last night for originally kidnapping Liam, Terry Reece? It’s similar to his company, Knight Products, but Knight Products is a lot bigger.”

Shock rocketed through her nerves. “It can’t be a coincidence. Two manufacturers of protective gear in town? And she’s the owner of Defendicon?”

“So she says,” answered Zane. “But I’m with you that it’s unlikely to be coincidental. I found it odd that she didn’t tell us the name of her company. If I were the owner of a huge corporation like that, I’d be dropping the name in every conversation.”

“I wonder what Terry Reece could tell us about Defendicon and Dawn Hazelwood.”

Zane snorted. “One of his biggest competitors? I bet we’ll get an earful. I’d like to hear what he has to say about Marcus and Liam disappearing too. I’ll call the county jail and try to set up a phone call.”

###

The smell of beef stew greeted Stevie as she entered her mother’s home. Unable to get a call through to check in on her family, Stevie had decided to swing by and see how everyone was managing after the shooting last night. Her stomach rumbled. It’d been hours since she’d eaten.

She found her mother in the kitchen and was surprised to see an older male visitor sitting on a stool at the island having a bowl of the stew.

Patsy introduced her guest. Carly had told Stevie about the new child psychiatrist in town. Dean Mercer stood up, wiped his mouth with a napkin as Stevie approached, and then shook her hand. He was tall with a touch of an East Coast accent, and he wore jeans and an ancient Jurassic Park T-shirt. His smile was kind, and his gaze put her at ease.

Stevie gave her mom a kiss. “I like the way you did your hair,” she told Patsy, admiring the few small braids in her waves and noting her mother was wearing the expensive earrings Stevie had bought her last Christmas.

“Are you hungry, Stevie?” Patsy asked, already filling a bowl. She always cooked or baked when she was stressed. Her family reaped the benefits.

“Starving.” Stevie pulled out a stool by Dean and sat.

“This is the best stew I’ve had in a decade,” said Dean.

“Mom’s a good cook. Where is everybody?”

“Napping,” answered Patsy. “The shock and lack of sleep caught up with everyone this afternoon. Even Bruce came home an hour ago and crashed.” Her eyes turned sad. “He told me about the FBI agents and how you found Liam’s jacket. That’s horrible. That poor little boy.” She set the bowl in front of Stevie.

She stared at the stew, no longer hungry.

“Who do they think shot the FBI agents?” asked Dean.

“Good question.” Stevie took a bite of the stew; it was flavorless in her dry mouth. “It wasn’t how we wanted to start the day, especially when we thought everything had been cleared up last night.” She watched Dean out of the corner of her eye and wondered if he would gossip. He didn’t seem like the type, but neither did half of Solitude, and news still ripped through the town like wildfire.

“I talked with Brianna,” said Dean. “She’s a pretty resilient kid. I think she’ll handle the events of last night just fine with some good therapy and love from her parents.” He frowned. “I hope those agents weren’t murdered in front of Liam. That boy has been through enough already.”

“Possibly he and Marcus got away before the shooting.”

“You saw evidence of that?” Dean asked, his eyebrows lifting.

Stevie took another bite, carefully considering her answer, still uneasy about fueling the gossip train. His prying questions made her uncomfortable. “We’re not ruling it out.”

“You’re still searching for the boy, right?” asked Patsy, concern wrinkling her forehead. “He and his uncle Marcus were so relieved to see each other this morning. I can’t bear to think that something horrible has happened to the two of them.”

Is Liam still alive?

Stevie’s brain was tired. “Of course. We haven’t given up.”

Dean leaned closer, lowering his voice even though Stevie and Patsy were the only people in the room. “I assume the police have considered that Wade Pierce took the boy.”

“It’s one of the theories.” Stevie decided not to share that Wade Pierce had been seen on the Oregon coast. “No matter what has happened, be careful. Someone killed those agents, and he has to be in the area. It’s impossible to cross the river or the flooded areas to get out.”

“Are you going to warn the town?” Dean asked.

“Zane decided to put out general warnings, not specific ones. We don’t want to cause an unnecessary panic, and I imagine the shooter will try to stay under the radar. Either he’s sitting tight in the woods somewhere or possibly hiding in plain sight.”

If I were to hide in plain sight, where would I go?

Stevie wished she’d asked Miss Penny about her other guests.

“That makes sense. You don’t want people accidentally shooting their neighbors,” agreed Dean.

“I don’t like the idea of someone skulking around our town and homes. I’m going to lock up the vehicles,” stated Patsy. “I’ll be right back.”

Small Town Rule #3: There’s no need to lock your vehicle.

An awkward silence stretched between Stevie and Dean.

“How long have you been in Solitude?” Stevie asked.

“Not long. I like it. People wave to you on the street. That’s hard to find these days.”

“Are you married? Kids?” Small talk.

“Widower. One son who lives in Portland.” He kept his eyes on his bowl.

Sympathy filled her. “I’m very sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you. It’s been five years.” Now he met her gaze, and she saw a brief flash of pain.

Before she could talk herself out of the question, she blurted, “Does it get better?”

Dad.

Over a year had passed since her father was murdered, and every time she parked at her mother’s home and realized “Big” Bill Taylor wasn’t going to appear on the porch to greet her, she was ripped apart.

Dean’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I know about your dad. No, it doesn’t stop hurting. It eases up, but you learn how to manage the pain and move on.”

“I don’t want to do that. It feels like I’m leaving him behind.”

“Your mother said you’re recently married.”

“Yes. Last summer.”

“I’d call that moving on. You go on with your life, doing what normal people do, but you always wonder why everyone else can’t see your giant missing piece.”

Exactly.

“I suspect he’s watching you,” Dean said gently. “He knows. I have to believe my Janice is keeping a sharp eye on me. I had a habit of putting things off, always setting tasks aside. It made her furious when she’d find an electric bill that hadn’t been paid in three months.”

Stevie grinned in spite of herself. That was the exact reason her father wouldn’t let Patsy handle the bills. Now Carly kept an eye on them. Patsy and Dean would be a nightmare together.

Together.

Stevie blinked. The earrings. The new hairdo. The stew.

It’s been nearly a year and a half.

Her mother deserved someone special in her life. Stevie looked at Dean with new eyes, examining him with a mental microscope. Finding someone good enough for her mother would be a Herculean task, and Stevie had gotten mixed vibes from the man, so she was reserving judgment.

“Any past-due notices lately?” she joked.

“Only one. I consider that a win.”

Patsy came in, wiping the rain off her shoulders. “When will it stop?” She smiled at the two of them, and her eyes lingered on Dean. Stevie winced, wondering how she’d missed the attraction when she first arrived.

None of my business.

But she’d keep an eye on Dean Mercer.

CHAPTER THREE

Zane inhaled as he stepped into Nell’s little store, expecting the usual heavenly scent of her fried chicken. He frowned; all he smelled was coffee. He’d swung by to pick up dinner before he met Stevie at home, knowing their refrigerator held nothing but lunch meat and yogurt.

He strode back to the deli counter and spotted Nell running the meat slicer. The woman glanced up. “Evening, Chief. And before you ask, yes, I’m out of chicken.” Exasperation filled her voice.

“There’s been a run on your fried chicken?” Knowing he couldn’t have the meat increased his craving tenfold.

“This is the first time in Solitude’s history that I’m plumb out of chicken with no idea when I’ll have more. Occasionally I’ve sold out before I can finish cooking the next batch, but I’ve never been unable to get supplies. I’m running out of everything in the store. People have been stocking up, which is great, but I can’t replenish.” The gray-haired woman was both shocked and annoyed. “Bugs the heck out of me that I can’t feed my town.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m sure we’ll get a road open soon. The rain is supposed to let up, and it looks like Thanksgiving might be dry.”

She sniffed. “It’ll be dry of turkey too unless folks bought one last week.” Nell scanned her store and then leaned over the counter, lowering her voice. “Is it true those FBI agents didn’t make it out of town?”

I should be surprised she knows, but I’m not.

“Where’d you hear that?”

“I saw the tow truck go by. Those tarps covering the vehicle were blowing in the wind. I saw the black paint and a flash of a shattered windshield. Then I saw it back into that building you use to store stuff. What happened?”

Shit.

“Did you tell anyone else what you saw?”

“Come on, Chief. You know me better than that by now.” At his look of disbelief, she amended her statement. “I know when to keep my mouth shut. I only gab about the harmless stuff.”

Zane weighed his options. “Can I trust you to keep this quiet?”

She nodded emphatically.

“The agents were shot and killed. Liam Pierce and his uncle have gone missing.”

Her mouth rounded into an O.

He’d never seen Nell speechless before.

“I figured they’d had a car accident. Didn’t know they were dead.”

“Keep it to yourself.”

“Who shot them?” she whispered, her pale eyes wide and worried.

“We’re trying to figure that out. Have you seen any new faces in town recently?”

She tapped a finger against her lips as she thought. “Mostly locals have been in since the storm started. There’s been a few strangers here and there, but their looks don’t stick in my head. Nothing stood out about them, I guess.” She frowned. “Except the woman from a few hours ago. Her I remember. Never seen her before, but I assume you’re looking for a man?”

“We assume nothing. What was she like?”

“She was city. Tall, blonde, and nosy.”

“Sounds like one of Miss Penny’s lodgers.”

Nell’s head bobbed up and down. “She said she was staying there. She wanted to know if I had any premade kale salads. I heard people were eating that green stuff. I’ve used it to line my cold cases for decor—never dreamed of eating it. She wasn’t happy that the only salads I had left were potato and macaroni.” Her face lit up as she chuckled. “Then she asked if I really served deep-fried owls. Took me a minute to realize she was looking at my old sign.”

Zane estimated the I LIKE MY SPOTTED OWL DEEP FRIED political sign above the deli was nearly forty years old. He grinned. “What’d you tell her?”

“Told her I was out of owls too. The look on her face made my day. She wanted to know if any elk hunters had come in recently.”

That caught Zane’s attention. “That seems random.”

“That’s what I thought. I told her not for a few days. The only ones I’ve seen recently were those two boys who got away from Kenny. Before they were hauled into jail, they were in here every day for beer.”

The Dodge brothers.

“You think those were the ones she meant?”

“I told her that I’d seen two dark-haired brothers who claimed to be hunting in the area. I didn’t tell her they’d been arrested or that the police were still looking for them, but I got the impression those were the men she was asking about.”

Zane didn’t know what to think. Why would a woman like Dawn Hazelwood be interested in those idiots?

“Then there’s that new shrink. He’s still a new face to me. Seems like a nice enough guy. I heard he specializes in kids.”

“Dean Mercer.”

“That’s the one. Like I told Patsy . . . He is fiiiine-lookin’.”

Zane decided not to comment on the psychiatrist’s looks. “Let me know if you see anyone else that feels out of place. And keep an eye out for the boy. I’ll send you a picture of the uncle when I get a minute.”

“Will do, Chief.”

###

That evening, Zane realized he and Stevie were the image of domestic bliss.

Stevie stirred the spaghetti sauce on the stovetop in their cozy home. Zane sat in his easy chair with Magic snoring at his feet, admiring the backside of his wife. It was a scene out of every 1960s TV show.

Except for the heavy cloud of unease that filled the room. Neither of them could get Liam or the FBI agents out of their minds. The results of the agents’ executions were permanently burned into Zane’s brain. Blood. Gray matter.

A lost yellow coat.

“I told you I lined up a phone call with Terry Reece from the county jail tomorrow morning, right?” asked Zane.

Stevie glanced over her shoulder at him, a concerned look on her face. “You’ve told me twice.”

“I thought so.” Zane felt like he was surrounded by a dense fog. He’d been running on autopilot since the search had not ended well. His mind was tired from thinking about Liam.

Is he cold tonight?

“Did I tell you that Nell talked to Dawn Hazelwood?” he asked.

“No.”

He shared that Dawn had asked about the Dodge brothers.

“Is Nell positive that was who Dawn meant?” Stevie was as skeptical as Zane had been. No one would put those two parties together.

“I’d say she was eighty percent certain.”

Stevie went back to her sauce. “That’s not good enough.” She opened the oven to check on the garlic bread, and the delectable scent made its way to Zane. Magic lifted her head and sniffed. At the moment, Zane was glad Nell had been out of fried chicken.

Ten minutes later, dinner was on the table along with a bottle of wine. Zane poured two glasses and kissed his wife. “I love you.”

At her smile, his heart did a little skip and then a double beat.

“I love you too.” Her warm gaze echoed her words. She dished up her plate, and Zane noticed her portion seemed very small. He did his plate and took another sip of wine, staring at his serving of pasta and sauce. Stevie poked at hers with her fork, set her fork down, and took a bite of garlic bread. She grabbed her wine and then set it aside without tasting it.

“Not hungry?” he asked.

“No. I keep thinking about this morning.”

“Same here.” He pushed away his plate. “I thought I was starving.”

They sat in silence for a long moment.

“I’ve seen dead children,” Zane slowly admitted. “I don’t care to see another. And I’m afraid that’s what we’re going to find.”

“Not if his father took him.”

“But why leave the coat at the river? That was a complicated ploy if it was meant to throw us off their trail. And would Marcus go along with Wade?”

“Like you said earlier. If Wade had offered him a portion of the ten million, he might.”

I hope Liam is with his father.

“Where could they be?” Zane mused, determined to believe that the boy still lived. “There are dozens of small hunting cabins around. Practically every house with an acre or more has several outbuildings. We’ll never find them.”

“What if Marcus is the shooter?” Stevie pointed out.

“Same problem.”

“Are you going to eat?” she asked.

“I’ll put it away for tomorrow.”

They did a quick cleanup. “Did you get a chance to look into Defendicon?” Stevie asked as she put the last container in the fridge.

“No. The rest of my day was spent delivering sandbags. Let’s take a look now.”

They sat together at the desktop, and Stevie pulled up the company’s web page. “Looks like their primary product is body armor.”

Zane watched as she quickly searched the website. “It doesn’t say a word about the owner.” She typed Dawn’s name and Defendicon into the browser search bar.

“Bingo!”

She scrolled. The search had returned several magazine articles, fundraising galas, and political events. She switched to images and found Dawn smiling in several event photos, posing with other well-dressed attendees. “She wasn’t exaggerating. Each article says she’s the owner.”

“Why is she in Solitude?”

“You got me.” Stevie stopped on a photo and enlarged it. “Isn’t that Terry Reece?”

According to the banner in the background, the six people in the photo were attending a weapons trade show. Both Dawn and Terry were in the photo but stood three people apart. “I guess that answers our question of whether or not they know each other,” said Zane.

“Not necessarily,” argued Stevie. “I’ve been grouped with a bunch of cops for a picture at public events before. Doesn’t mean I know them.”

“Good point.”

Stevie scanned through more random photos from Google and halted, catching her breath. She leaned closer to the screen.

“What is it?” Zane asked.

“Do you know him?” she pointed at a photo of Dawn and several other men in suits, tapping her finger on one man with salt-and-pepper hair.

“No.”

“I shared stew with him at my mother’s house today. That’s Dean Mercer, the child psychiatrist who saw Liam.”

Zane took the mouse and checked the source of the image. “It’s a fundraiser for a psychiatric children’s wing at a hospital.” His fingers grew icy. “I guess that’s reasonable . . . clearly she donates a lot of money, and he probably worked there.”

“I don’t like it.” Stevie was shaking her head emphatically. “This isn’t right.” She typed their names together in the Google search bar. No results returned. Not even the photo came up again because it wasn’t captioned at its source.

Her shoulders slumped. “Is it nothing or something?”

Zane drew her away from the computer, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close until he felt her relax. “My gut says it’s nothing, but it’s late. I’m ordering both of us not to think about it anymore tonight. We’ll start fresh tomorrow.”

She leaned her temple against his cheek. “Then you need to distract me.” Her lips touched his neck.

“Gladly.”

###

Zane sat upright in bed, shaking and sweating.

I didn’t get to him in time.

“Zane?” Stevie’s voice was full of sleep. “What happened?”

“Nothing.” He sucked in a shuddering breath.

She touched his side in a caress and jerked her hand back. “You’re soaking wet.” Sitting up, she asked, “Are you sick?” He felt her cool hand against his forehead.

“No.” He focused on slowing his heart rate. It wasn’t real.

But it was.

“It was that other child drowning case, wasn’t it?”

He’d married a sharp woman. Earlier in the day, he’d told her about finding the other boy in the river, how he’d been there when they’d pulled him out, and how it’d made him doubt his career choice. “I’d hoped so hard he would be found alive,” he told her.

And now he hoped to find another child alive.

Back then, Bill Taylor had helped him work through the emotional trauma.

In the dark, he could just make out the pale shape of Stevie’s face. Even though he couldn’t see her eyes, he knew they were full of concern.

This time Bill’s daughter would be there for him.

CHAPTER FOUR

Stevie rolled her eyes again.

Terry Reece, the arrested owner of Knight Products, was being as difficult as possible during their phone interview. She and Zane sat in his police department office, listening to the man stall on the speakerphone.

Both of them had slept poorly and barely made it to the office by seven for their phone call, each with a steaming cup of coffee. The streets of Solitude were deserted, and water flowed like a small river through several of them. Zane had detoured three times to avoid driving through dangerously high water.

Terry had agreed to talk to the two of them once he had heard that Liam and his uncle Marcus had disappeared. No doubt, Terry’s lawyer would object to the interview, but Terry said he didn’t care.

He’d just told them that he had no idea where to find the $10 million Wade had stolen. Hence Stevie’s fourth eye roll.

The police and the FBI knew that Terry had traced the missing money to an offshore account. He simply didn’t have the codes to get it back. His whole motivation for kidnapping Wade’s son was to blackmail Wade for the codes.

Stevie and Zane didn’t care about codes. They wanted to know if Marcus could have committed murder and taken the boy.

They’d agreed not to tell Terry about the two dead FBI agents.

“Did you know Marcus Wilkins very well?” Zane asked.

“Wade’s brother-in-law? I didn’t meet him until after Wade ripped off my company. Marcus was looking for Wade and the boy, and we were searching to get our money back, so yeah, we crossed paths several times. He’s a hothead.”

“What makes you say that?” asked Stevie. She exchanged a confused look with Zane. Seth and her mother had said the exact opposite about Marcus, calling him a kind man who clearly loved his nephew, but Stevie knew they’d only met him for a matter of minutes.

“He wanted Wade worse than we did. The death of his sister had shaken up Marcus something fierce. I worried that he’d get to Wade before we did, and then we’d never find the money because Wade would be dead.”

“So he was tight with Liam’s mother?” Zane restated Terry’s comment in a question.

“Must have been. He was out for blood.”

Stevie bit her lip. Is Marcus still after Wade? And took Liam with him?

But now everyone knew that Wade hadn’t killed his wife. Terry’s right-hand man, Shawn, had done it. Marcus couldn’t blame Wade anymore.

She crossed out her theory that Marcus was out for revenge.

“Do you think Marcus is capable of murder?” Zane asked.

“Shit, I don’t know. I barely knew the guy. What kind of question is that? I didn’t really think he’d kill Wade if he found him . . . maybe mess him up a bit. He wanted Wade thrown in prison for the rest of his life. That’s all I wanted too. After I got my money back.”

“You went about hunting Wade in a very aggressive and illegal manner. Not to mention immoral,” Stevie pointed out. “I don’t know what else to call hiring someone to kill his wife and kidnap his son. Why didn’t you leave it to the police?”

“The police were doing their thing, and I was doing mine. I couldn’t sit on my ass and hope for my money to come back.”

“Why did Wade steal from your company?” Zane asked.

“Beats me. Must have wanted it. Maybe he was tired of the rat race.”

“Don’t you think he would have taken his wife and son with him?” asked Stevie.

“You’re asking me if I knew what was going on in Wade’s head. Clearly I didn’t know the man at all.” Anger infused Terry’s tone.

He takes the theft from his company very personally.

Or is it something personal between him and Wade?

“There’s another thing I’m fuzzy on,” Zane said in a slow voice, which Stevie knew was a deliberate ploy to set a guilty interviewee at ease. “If Kandi and Peter were hiding Liam for you, why did Shawn kill them?”

Silence.

“Terry?” Stevie asked, wondering if they’d lost him.

“Hang on. I’m thinking this through.”

“You need to think about it?” Zane asked.

“You told me you’re recording this. It’s bad enough I’ve gone behind my lawyer’s back. I need to watch how I phrase things.”

Stevie refrained from rolling her eyes this time. For a man who was all about covering his ass, it was odd that he would talk to them at all. She suspected it was an ego thing. Some people loved to believe that the police were in dire need of their help. Even at the risk of incriminating themselves.

“I’ll put it in one word. Greed.”

Zane’s brows shot up and Stevie nodded at him. “Blackmail,” she whispered. Kandi and Peter must have asked for more money. A lot of money, since they’d died for it. Stevie wondered if they had threatened to turn the boy over to the police and implicate Terry and Shawn.

It didn’t matter now. Shawn was dead, and Terry was up to his neck in charges.

“Back to Marcus. Why do you think he vanished with Liam?” Stevie asked.

“Has to be money in there somewhere,” suggested Terry. “No one does anything without getting paid for it.”

Maybe in your world.

“I’d guess he went to join Wade, and the three of them are leaving the country,” said Terry. “Wade isn’t totally off the hook even though he didn’t kill his wife. He’ll still be prosecuted for stealing from me.”

“But the FBI can keep Wade from getting into the offshore account,” Zane pointed out. “How will they run without money?”

“He’s probably been stealing from me for the last decade,” Terry stated. “Once a thief, always a thief. I bet he’s got accounts all over the Caribbean.”

Good point.

Zane’s gaze said he agreed with her.

Stevie changed the subject. “Terry, are you familiar with Defendicon?”

“Of course. One of my biggest competitors.”

“Do you know the owner?”

“Dawn Hazelwood.” He nearly spit her name.

“What’s your opinion of her and her company?”

Terry was silent for a long moment. “Why are you asking?”

“Does it matter? I assume you keep a close eye on what your competitors are doing in the field, right?”

“That’s just good business sense. We keep our research and development under wraps. Ideally, by the time we put a new or improved item on the market, our competitors can’t scramble fast enough to keep up.”

“Sounds like a game,” Zane observed.

“In a way, it is. You have to act quickly and constantly improve to stay ahead in this business.” His tone had soured, and Stevie raised a brow at Zane. He nodded.

“Sounds like you might be a little burned out?” Zane asked. “It must take a lot of energy to hold the lead while other companies are nipping at your heels.”

Terry snorted. “You’ve got that right. And some companies will play dirty to find out your secrets.”

“Explain.” Stevie and Zane waited as Terry went silent again.

“I’m pretty sure Dawn planted a mole in my company a year ago. I fired him two months ago.”

I didn’t expect that.

“You’re right,” Stevie said in a sympathetic voice. “That is dirty. How did you find out?”

“I was never positive Dawn planted him, but security said he was accessing documents and e-mails that were off-limits. It was enough to fire him.”

“Wow. What did he see?”

“Do you really think I’ll share my private records with you? I’ll just say that it was none of his business, but he had way too much interest in things that didn’t concern him. I didn’t talk to Dawn about it because I don’t have proof, but I had security keep an eye on him after he was fired, and he moved to Las Vegas within weeks. I only have one competitor in Nevada—Defendicon. But it doesn’t matter. My company is done. It’ll never recover.”

Stevie was confused. “Aren’t you a publicly held company? Primarily run by a board of directors? I know you started the company, but I assume they’ll appoint another CEO.”

“It’s not going to survive.”

“Survive what?” Zane asked.

“I think this interview is over.”

Stevie and Zane asked a few more questions, but Terry was done being generous.

They ended the call and sat thinking for a few moments.

“Why does he think his company is finished?” Stevie asked. “Did the missing ten million hit them that hard? They’ll eventually get it back since the FBI got the codes.”

“I didn’t understand that part either. Maybe his ego believes Knight Products can’t survive the scandal of him going to prison.”

“I feel like Terry is waiting for another ball to drop. I was surprised by his matter-of-fact tone about something so big.”

“What’s worse than losing ten million and going to prison?”

“Losing twenty million?” Stevie shrugged. “Do you think Dawn planted someone in his company? He sounded really bitter about it.”

“He says he didn’t have proof. It’s all speculation. I wonder what information he’s worried about Defendicon getting its hands on. I noticed Terry never said a word about Dawn being in Solitude. I don’t think he knows.”

“Or he’s keeping us from looking at a different angle.”

Stevie couldn’t make heads or tails out of the presence of the two companies’ leaders. Neither could Zane. They set aside the odd situation to focus on the first part of the interview.

“I guess Wade could have been the one who killed the FBI agents to get Liam and Marcus out of there,” Stevie said. “Marcus could have called to let him know he finally had Liam. Maybe it was a rendezvous that went bad.”

“That still means we have a murderer on this side of the water,” Zane pointed out.

“Are we doing the wrong thing by not warning the town?”

Zane sighed. “I think it’s time to contact the press. I’ll get something typed up in time for the local noon news and ask Sheila to update our social media accounts with photos of Wade Pierce and Marcus Wilkins.”

“Will it say we suspect they killed two FBI agents?”

“I don’t think we have any choice at this point.” Zane pressed his palms against his forehead. “Did I fuck up by not releasing that fact yesterday morning? I don’t want anyone else to get hurt.”

His guilt and indecision weighed heavily on Stevie. “Nothing has happened,” she said. “I think we were prudent to search out more facts first.”

Did we do the wrong thing?

###

Back at the police station, Stevie held her breath as Sheila switched between the noon news shows on three networks. They were broadcast from small affiliate stations out of Medford. Solitude rarely made the news, but today the channels ran the photos of Marcus and Wade after their lead stories on the flooding. Flood coverage consisted of reporters standing in front of the worst damage they could find and describing the scene for the viewers . . . as if they didn’t have eyes for themselves.

Zane had written up a vague statement that the two men were being sought as persons of interest in a double homicide and that they were likely armed. The public was warned not to approach them but to call the police. The report also stated a young boy might be with one of the subjects because Zane had worried that the public would discount a man with a child. To fend off any wannabe heroes, he’d also added that the child wasn’t believed to be in any danger.

Beside her, Zane blew out a breath as one of the news anchors read his press release. “I think we did the right thing. People need to know that there’s a chance of danger in town.”

Sheila sighed and tapped her fluorescent green nails on her desk as she watched. “I’ve already had three calls because of the social media posts. People want to know who was killed in the double homicide. I’ve told them it was no one local, and that seems to satisfy their curiosity. I can’t decide if it’s a good sign or not that our residents care about each other but not about the murder of anyone else.”

“I don’t think it’s that,” said Stevie. “They just want to know it wasn’t a neighbor.”

The phone rang again, and Sheila’s attention was diverted.

“Do you think we’ll get any leads from the broadcasts?” Stevie whispered to Zane. In her mind, she continued to see Liam fall into the river and get washed downstream, but she held out hope that he was hiding with his uncle. Somewhere.

“Hope so. I’d like to find them before a road opens up. I know it’s a pain, but I think the town being cut off helps in our hunt.”

“It definitely decreases the search area. If a road is restored, we might never find out what happened.”

“Boss, you’ve got another bar fight at Fletcher’s,” intoned Sheila as she hung up the phone. Her green eyeshadow flashed as she rolled her eyes.

“Again?” asked Zane. “That’s the third one this week.”

“I think people are just sick of the rain,” Sheila said pointedly.

“Amen,” muttered Zane. “Is Carter available?”

“He’s helping the Swansons evacuate. He’s using their boat and paddling it right down the street.”

“Does he need help?” Stevie knew Mrs. Swanson had lost her husband two years ago.

“No, he said he and the three teenage Swanson boys have it under control. Those boys take good care of their mother.”

Stevie looked at Zane. “Guess it’s you and me.”

“Don’t kick anyone in the groin this time,” he ordered.

“Only if I need to.”

###

“Isn’t that—”

“It is,” Zane answered Stevie.

Dawn Hazelwood’s white Escalade sat in the parking lot at Fletcher’s Bar. It stood out next to the other beat-up pickups and nondescript sedans in the gravel lot. A diamond among the pieces of coal.

“There’s no way she’s inside this place,” Stevie argued. “She wouldn’t let her dog go into Fletcher’s. Someone must have stolen her SUV.”

Zane laughed as she’d hoped he would. He’d been a ball of stress for over twenty-four hours. They were both tightly wound, but Zane had carried a shadow in his eyes since the search for Liam had ended at the river.

She didn’t like it. The case was hitting him at a personal level, and she felt powerless to pull him out of it.

Shouts came from inside the bar. Maybe a good bar fight will perk him up.

Stepping into the dim light of Fletcher’s, Stevie spotted Jake Powers supervising a brawl. He casually held a baseball bat at his shoulder, but it appeared he hadn’t used it. Yet.

Two men thrashed on the floor, their blows missing more than making contact. Their movements were slow and jerky as they shouted slurring insults.

They were fall-down, can’t-walk, stupidly drunk.

Jake made his way over to Stevie and Zane. “I don’t think they can hurt each other,” he told them, after a nod of greeting. “They’re too wasted.”

“You need to be better about cutting them off,” Stevie lectured. Any apprehension she’d harbored about breaking up a bar fight fizzled. The scene in front of her was pathetic. “What happened?”

“They were arguing about who got to buy the lady a drink.” Jake nodded in the direction of the bar.

Dawn Hazelwood was perched on a stool, disinterestedly watching the fight, leaning on an elbow on the bar, boredom in her posture.

“What’s she doing in here?” Zane asked.

“That’s what I wondered,” admitted Jake. “We don’t get her type. I figured she was slumming. Sometimes rich women like to live a little dangerously. Although lunchtime here isn’t exactly the time to troll. Especially with the storm going on. She asked me if I’d seen a couple of men she’s looking for.”

Zane straightened his shoulders. “Again? Did she ask about the Dodge brothers?”

“She didn’t say names. Just described them as elk hunters. Big guys with dark hair.”

“Have you seen them?”

“I think they were in earlier this week. I told her I got the impression they were staying out at the old resort.”

“What’d she say to that?” Stevie asked. She glanced across the room. Dawn looked directly at her and held her gaze. She held up a glass in toast to Stevie and took a long drink.

“Wanted to know if I’d seen them today. I haven’t.”

Stevie glanced at Zane. “I think we need to talk to Dawn somewhere quieter.” The men on the floor had stopped fighting and lay on their backs, panting. One had a bloody nose and the other a bloody lip. Other than that, they looked intact.

“Not blood again,” muttered Jake. “I hate cleaning up that shit.”

“Could be worse,” Zane offered with sympathy.

“True. I think I’ve seen it all. One time in the men’s room—”

“We’ll get going now, Jake.” Stevie cut him off, her imagination filling in the rest of his story. “Unless you want us to haul them out of here.”

“The holding cell is still unusable because of the backed-up drain,” Zane reminded her.

“We could give them a neighborly ride home,” Stevie suggested. “As long as they don’t puke in the back seat.”

“I’d appreciate that,” answered Jake. “I’m trying to run a cleaner place these days. Blood and idiots don’t help the image.”

“Keep it up. You’ve made some good changes,” Stevie told him. She meant it. Jake had transformed the bar and himself for the better since she’d moved back to Solitude. “But you’ve got to do something about the number of fights we have to respond to. Cut off the drunks. It’s the law.”

He bobbed his head. “Will do.”

“Do you want to invite Dawn to the station for a talk or should I?” Zane asked.

“Definitely you. She doesn’t care for me, but she seems to like you a lot.”

“She does?”

Men are so oblivious sometimes.

“Trust me.”

Zane looked skeptical.

“Hold her gaze and smile as you slowly walk over to her,” Stevie advised. “She’ll do whatever you ask.” She looked at the two men awkwardly pulling themselves up off the floor. “I’ll take Bloody Nose home, and you can drive the other.”

CHAPTER FIVE

Stevie returned from driving home Bloody Nose and found Zane already back in the office. The drunk hadn’t puked in her car, and his wife was not happy to see him dropped off by an officer. Nose had tried to saunter casually past his wife and had failed, nearly putting out an eye on a drawer knob as he fell. Stevie darted off as his wife started to chew him out. She had a very brief moment of pity for the inebriated fool.

Inside the police station, Dawn sat in the interview/storage/meeting/whatever-we-need-it-for room with Zane, a cup of coffee in her hand. Sheila had sniffed loudly as Stevie walked by, her nails clacking twice as loudly as usual on her keyboard. Sheila-speak for annoyance. No doubt directed at their visitor. Sheila had little patience for certain types of people. Dawn Hazelwood was one of those types: high maintenance.

Dawn was dressed as though she had a yoga class to attend in ten minutes. Stevie was certain there was no yoga class within thirty minutes. Coordinated royal-blue top, jacket, and running shoes with snug black pants. Plus a super-perky ponytail and full makeup.

No wonder the drunks at Fletcher’s had lost their minds.

Zane sat beside her, taking Stevie’s advice about smiling. Dawn was eating it up. She leaned toward Zane, offering a hint of cleavage, her own smile at full wattage.

Stevie understood; there was something about a man in uniform.

“Sorry I’m late. There were more than a few detours.” Stevie grabbed her own cup of coffee and sat.

“The weather is horrible,” said Dawn. “I don’t know how you stand living here. I moved to the desert twenty years ago, and I’ll never live anywhere else.”

Stevie showed her teeth. “I’d probably feel the same way about the heat.”

Zane cut in. “Dawn was just telling me about their newest line of bulletproof vests.” His gaze warned Stevie to play nicely. “She says she’ll send us a few to try out. They’re supposed to be a third lighter than what we’re currently using.”

“I’ll take all the lightening up I can get,” Stevie said seriously. She carried over twenty pounds of equipment, between her clothing, boots, duty belt, and vest. Wearing that in a desert environment would be hell.

“They’re not on the market yet,” Dawn said. “We’ve done all the testing and hope to get them out within six months.”

“We’d love to try them,” answered Zane.

Dawn took a long look at both of them, her perfectly groomed brows lifting ever so slightly. “So. Why am I here? I don’t think you wanted to sweet-talk equipment out of me.”

Stevie raised her estimation of the woman a few degrees. “Twice you’ve asked locals about two elk hunters.”

“So in Solitude, the gossip train is actually a bullet train,” said Dawn.

“Sometimes.”

“I’m looking for two guys I hired. They came here, and I haven’t heard a word from them since.”

“Maybe you should have come to the police first,” suggested Zane. “That’s what we do.”

Dawn’s smile was saccharine. “I didn’t want to bother you with such a small matter.”

“Two missing men doesn’t sound like a small matter,” Stevie pointed out. “Especially with the dangerous water around town.”

Two parallel lines creased Dawn’s forehead. “I hadn’t thought about that. I figured they could take care of themselves . . . even though they aren’t the most responsible types. They’re the type to get drunk and forget they have jobs for two days. That’s why I checked at the bar.”

Sounds like the Dodge brothers to me.

“I can’t believe you only have one bar in town . . . not even in town. It’s near town.”

“Sometimes that’s one too many,” muttered Stevie. “Are you looking for Lyle and Ethan Dodge?” she asked, watching for Dawn’s reaction.

She wasn’t disappointed.

The lash extensions blinked rapidly three times. “You know them?”

“You could say that,” answered Zane. “The county arrested them on suspicion of being involved in a double murder a few days ago.”

Dawn paled.

“Turns out they weren’t involved, but they got past one of my officers before we learned that, and we haven’t seen them since.”

“So, are they wanted for something or not?” Dawn asked slowly.

“Not for those murders. For embarrassing one of my officers, yes.” Zane’s face was perfectly solemn. “Now we’ve had another . . . incident . . . and I’d like to talk to them about it. How do you contact them?”

“Cell phone. But they haven’t answered in two days.”

“I suspect their phones are in the county sheriff’s hands. What’s your backup way to reach them?”

Had the Dodge brothers murdered the FBI agents?

“If I had a backup, I’d have talked to them by now.”

“What do they do for you?” Stevie asked. “They don’t seem like corporate employees.”

Dawn’s lips twitched on one side. “They’re not. I hired them to find someone for me. They told me he was here in Solitude.”

“Who was that?”

She sat silently for a long moment, and Stevie knew she was carefully phrasing her answer.

“Terry Reece. He owns a company similar to mine. He wasn’t returning my phone calls either, so I decided to confront him in person. He’s hard to pin down. I thought surprising him here would work.”

“Confront him about what?” asked Stevie.

“It was a personal matter, but he was arrested before I got here. I understand he’s in the county jail, which is at least a half hour away on the other side of the moat around this town.”

“Do you know why he was arrested?” Stevie asked. The woman seemed rather calm at the news.

“I heard something about a shooting.”

“Yes. He and a cohort tried to murder my family.” Stevie’s words quivered as she steamed at the memory. “Small children were present. He’s lucky he’s not dead like his partner.”

Dawn’s eyes widened. “I had no idea. I’m so sorry for your family.” She scowled. “That’s not the Terry I’ve known.”

“Greed can transform the most honest person,” Zane commented.

The woman slumped back in her chair, her ponytail losing some of its perk. “Why would he do something like that?” she whispered to herself. Confusion and concern flashed across her face.

Zane exchanged a look with Stevie. “Do you know Wade Pierce?”

“No. Should I?”

She’s lying. Stevie had seen an awareness for a millisecond in her eyes before she answered.

“He was the CFO for Terry’s company.”

Comprehension appeared. “Ahh . . . he’s the thief. The one who murdered his wife. I heard about that.”

“Turns out, Wade didn’t kill his wife. Terry was behind it. He hired someone to do it and kidnap Wade’s son,” Stevie said.

Dawn looked sick. “That can’t be right.”

“Trust me, it is.”

The three of them sat quietly for a few moments as the news sunk in. Dawn’s gaze darted between Stevie and Zane. The overconfident woman from minutes before was now stunned.

“I guess I won’t be talking to Terry on this trip,” Dawn admitted.

“You know,” Zane said innocently, “Terry believes you planted a mole in his company.”

Guilt flared. “It’s a competitive business. He’s probably done the same to me.”

“I bet your company spends years in research and development to create something like those lighter bulletproof vests,” Stevie said.

“We do. Our R&D department is huge. And expensive.”

“Moles help you stay ahead of your competitors,” Zane stated.

Dawn shrewdly looked from Zane to Stevie. “Am I here to be asked about the Dodge brothers or my mole?”

“Does it matter?” Stevie asked. “Wade, his brother-in-law, and his son are still missing. Your two men are missing. For such a small town, we’ve got a lot of missing people. And we’re missing another tourist,” she added, remembering Robert Singleton from the Tall Tree Inn.

Where Dawn was staying.

This woman has a lot of lost people in her circle.

“None of this seems to concern me. I’m headed home as soon as I can get out of town.”

“What about the Dodge brothers?”

She shrugged. “I’m sure they’ll turn up in a bar somewhere.” She looked at the time. “I paid them. They did the job, so I assume they’re finished with me. I can’t sit here and wonder where they went.”

That’s a cold attitude.

Dawn stood up. “We done?”

Zane stood. “I’ll walk you out.” He followed the woman out of the room. She didn’t say goodbye to Stevie.

Tapping her fingers on the table, Stevie thought back through their conversation.

Zane reappeared a minute later. “Sheila doesn’t like her.”

“Of course not. She’s high maintenance.”

Zane pondered that for a moment and then dropped into the chair next to Stevie.

“Dawn didn’t ask any questions when we told her Wade, Marcus, and Liam were missing. Most people would have shown some concern about a missing child.”

“Most people would,” agreed Zane. “I don’t think she’s most people.”

Sheila stuck her head in the room. “Hank’s on line one.”

The two of them moved into Zane’s office, and he picked up the phone, greeting the medical examiner. Zane listened for a few moments. “That’s who it was?” Surprise rang in his tone.

Stevie waited impatiently.

He hung up. “The floater from the other day was our missing tourist, Robert Singleton. I’d wondered if it would turn out to be Wade Pierce.”

She let that sink in. “Then Wade is still a suspect in the FBI shooting.” An image of the two dead men waiting silently in their SUV in the storage unit popped into her mind.

I hate that we had to do that.

“So are the Dodge brothers and Marcus,” Zane said grimly.

###

“Zane?”

It was Sheila’s emergency voice.

It’d been two hours since Dawn left, and Sheila’s tone made Zane leap to his feet and dart out of his office as Sheila shouted the rest. “We’ve got a shooting injury out at the Kimpton farm! We don’t have ambulance coverage yet!”

Shit. His biggest worry had just come true.

“Call Dean Mercer. Give him the location. Who else do we know with medical training?”

Sheila’s hands fluttered. “I can’t think of anyone else!”

“Call Carter, Kenny, and Stevie. I want everyone at the Kimptons’. Is the shooter still active?”

“It was the shooter who called me—Jacob Kimpton. He shot an intruder near his barn.”

Shit again. Jacob Kimpton was over eighty and wore some of the thickest eyeglass lenses that Zane had ever seen. He had a reputation for shooting first and asking questions later.

“I’ll be there in ten minutes.” He grabbed his hat and strode out the door, wondering what disaster he’d find at the farm.

Will the victim be Wade or Marcus?

Or one of the Dodge brothers?

###

Twenty stressful and wet minutes later, Zane learned he was wrong on all counts. The victim was Jacob Kimpton’s neighbor, Ezra Freeman.

Ezra currently had an ass full of buckshot and was cursing enough to make a sailor blush.

When Zane arrived, Carter and Dean Mercer were attending his injuries. Ezra was the same age as Jacob, and there was a decades-old feud running between the men. Zane had never pinpointed what had started the conflict, but rumor held that it was about a woman. In the 1960s.

Now they constantly argued about wandering pets, broken fences, and every little noise.

Zane’s department always drew straws to see who had to respond when things got out of hand. Everyone had taken their fair share of calls with the crotchety men.

Dean looked up as Zane approached. “I told Sheila we had it under control and to cancel any other responders. He’s going to be fine.”

“What the hell’s he doing on my land?” Jacob yelled, even though he was ten feet from the group. He still held his shotgun, his feet planted wide, and watched everyone with a terrifying scowl.

Zane shot a glare at Carter for not disarming Jacob and held his hand out for the weapon. “Let me hold that until everyone clears out,” he told Jacob.

Annoyance filled the scruffy, irate face, but he relinquished the weapon. “Shouldn’t be snooping around my stuff,” he muttered. “I heard on the news that we’ve got some wanted men in the area. Thought I’d found one of them.”

Exactly what I didn’t want to have happen after the broadcast.

“Next time, try to see exactly who you’re shooting at,” Zane suggested.

“I’m a little jumpy. Don’t cotton with murderers wandering around.”

You and me both.

Zane watched as Dean Mercer used long tweezers to pluck a piece of shot out of Ezra’s lower back. The doctor splashed rubbing alcohol on the spot, and Zane cringed, expecting Ezra to scream. The man didn’t move.

“I gave him a local anesthetic,” Dean explained.

“I’d been shot and this fake doctor gave me a dozen more fucking shots!” Ezra exclaimed. The patient was lying facedown on a board in Jacob’s barn, his pants pulled down to his knees, and he was straining to look over his shoulder at Jacob. “That asshole has wanted to shoot me all his life. That bullshit about believing I was a murderer is a big fat lie!”

Zane tried not to look at the freshly pockmarked, old-man ass. “Everyone has been warned that we could have some . . . undesirables in town, Ezra. I’m sorry you got mistaken for one.”

“He knew exactly who he was shooting at!”

“What were you doing by my barn?” shouted Jacob.

Ezra crumpled up his mouth and nose, and Zane suspected he was embarrassed to answer.

“Thought I saw a prowler,” he muttered, nearly too low for anyone to hear.

“What did you see?” Zane asked.

“Just thought I saw someone that shouldn’t be over here. The only person I ever see poking around Jacob’s property is Jacob.”

“You were just being neighborly.” Zane fought back a grin. “Hear that, Jacob? Ezra was concerned about a stranger on your property. You’ve got your own neighborhood watch here.”

Did he see one of the missing men?

“What’s a neighborhood watch?” Jacob sullenly asked.

“Carter,” Zane ordered in a lower voice. “Take a look around.” He held the man’s gaze to make certain he got the message of possible danger. Carter nodded, understanding in his eyes.

“What are Stevie and Kenny doing?” Zane asked his officer.

“Kenny was tied up when Dean told Sheila that we had it under control. I don’t know where Stevie is,” Carter stated, as he headed out of the barn.

Dammit. He grabbed his radio and called Sheila. Stevie’s familiar voice answered, startling him.

“Stevie? Why are you at the office?”

“Sheila asked me to cover the phones while she ran home. Her neighbor called and said water was getting too close to her camper. Sheila went to move it to a higher spot and shouldn’t be gone for more than a half hour. Everything okay? Dean said the injury wasn’t serious. I understand it was Jacob and Ezra going at it again, not an intruder.”

“That’s right, but Ezra originally saw someone near Jacob’s barn. I want to do a search of the area.”

“I’ll find out how long Kenny will be and send him out there. Soon as Sheila is back, I’ll come too.”

“Okay. Keep me updated.” Zane ended the call and sighed.

He and Carter would probably end up searching the whole soaking-wet area by themselves.

CHAPTER SIX

Bored, Stevie slid open the long drawer at Sheila’s desk.

Color-organized nail polish and pens sat in perfect rows. Feeling like a slob, Stevie carefully shut the drawer, not wanting to shift any items. She wasn’t surprised that the nail polish was organized by color, but the pens had startled her. Sheila kept the entire office neat and efficiently organized, often getting on Carter and Kenny when they didn’t put away their coffee mugs or the stapler. Stevie had known Sheila was a neat freak, but didn’t know she was that obsessed.

Now she was scared to touch anything. And still bored.

She’d had one call: Zane. Maybe it was time for a magazine.

The phone rang, and she answered with relief. “Solitude Police Department.”

There was a moment of silence, and she repeated her greeting.

“Can I speak to the police chief?” asked the male caller.

“He’s out on a call. Can I take a message or have him call you back?”

“No.” He didn’t hang up.

“Do you need help?” Stevie asked, her concern growing.

“I guess I will leave a message for him.”

Stevie grabbed a pen from the holder on top of the desk, noting that they weren’t in any particular color order. “Go ahead.”

“Wade Pierce isn’t the suspect he’s looking for.”

Stevie raised her head, her pen still. “You’re Wade,” she stated, her heart speeding up.

There was a pause. “Yes.”

“Where’s Liam?” she asked. “Is he okay?”

“I was going to ask the chief that. I heard Liam had been found days ago, but on the news, they said he might be with me or his uncle. What’s going on?” His voice rose. “Who’s got my son? How did you lose him?”

“Wade, where are you? Can you come in and talk to us?” The panic in his voice worried her. Don’t hang up.

“Hell no. I’m not stupid. I know people are looking for me . . . even if it’s for shit I didn’t do.”

“We know you didn’t kill your wife.”

“What?” he whispered.

“Terry’s man Shawn did that. You don’t need to worry about being charged with that anymore.”

Wade noisily sucked in a deep breath.

“Now Terry’s sitting in jail for attempted murder and some other charges.” Stevie paused. “Shawn was killed in a shoot-out.”

“I knew Terry was behind it.” Wade’s voice cracked. “He contacted me, saying he’d give Liam back to me after I handed over the codes.” He took a ragged breath. “But I know Terry. He would kill Liam the minute he got them. I’ve been trying to get to my son ever since.” He made wet choking sounds. “Three fucking months I’ve been searching for him, never knowing if he was dead or alive.”

“Liam was in rough shape when he was first found,” Stevie reassured him. “But he’s okay—” She cut off her words. I have no idea if he’s okay or in the river.

“What’s wrong? What’s happened to my son?” he shouted.

Stevie told him about the death of the FBI agents and how Liam and Marcus had vanished. Then she told him about the jacket by the river.

“Oh my God,” Wade breathed. He coughed, and she heard him dry heave in the background.

Stevie waited, blinking back the moisture in her eyes.

Wade didn’t kill those agents.

“We’ll find him,” she promised. “No one can get in or out of Solitude. If he’s alive, we’ll find him.” Her words felt empty. She couldn’t make any promises to this father. “Where are you?”

He didn’t answer but continued to breathe heavily in the background. Watery gasps interspersed his breaths.

“The FBI traced you to Coos Bay. Are you in Solitude?”

He didn’t answer.

He didn’t say no.

She strongly suspected he was in town. “Do you have a dry place to stay?” she asked softly.

“Does my son have a dry place?” Wade snapped back at her. “How in the hell did this happen?”

She’d already told him, but she knew he needed to vent.

“I was so close to getting him back!”

“Wade, we don’t know who killed the FBI agents. Would Marcus—”

“He had no reason to do that. Someone else did it and took him and Liam.” He swallowed hard. “And possibly drowned them.”

“Wade.” Stevie strained to set aside her emotions and think logically. “Why would someone take your son?”

“I don’t know!”

“There’s got to be a reason someone shot two agents to get him . . . or get Marcus.”

Could this be about Marcus? Wouldn’t he have been killed if Liam was the target?

“What does your brother-in-law do?” No one had bothered to research Liam’s uncle.

“He’s . . . he’s a medical equipment rep.”

Stevie tried to connect the dots with that new information; it didn’t help.

“When’s the last time you talked to Marcus?”

“Before Shannon was murdered. Once I found her, I split. I knew I was next.” He muttered something Stevie missed.

“What did you say?”

“I said I saw Marcus for weeks on all the news broadcasts, blasting me for murdering his sister and kidnapping my own kid. He was a mess. I felt sorry for him, but I didn’t dare contact him.”

“Terry said he thought Marcus might kill you if he found you before anyone else.”

Wade’s laugh was hollow. “Could you blame him? And here I have information that will destroy Knight Products. The evidence I have will keep the company from ever recovering. It was all for nothing if my son is dead.”

Wade sounded ready to jump off a ledge.

“Marcus has no reason to be angry anymore. Please come in and we’ll find—”

A racket sounded in the background. “I gotta go.” There was a click and silence.

“Wade? Wade?”

Nothing.

“Dammit.” Stevie tapped her unused pen on the desk. He has information to destroy Knight Products? Is that why Terry said his company would never recover?

She needed to call Zane immediately.

What will Wade do?

###

Stevie stepped into the street, pulling up her hood as Zane parked in front of the police station. She waited. Exhaustion showed in the dark areas below his eyes, and his boots were covered in mud from his search on Jacob Kimpton’s property. It’d been fruitless. Neither he nor Carter had found evidence that a prowler had been in the area.

Stevie had updated him over the phone about her call with Wade, and Zane had agreed that Wade was probably in Solitude.

She stepped close and wrapped her arms around him, resting her forehead against his. Fatigue seeped from his every pore. The stress of the last few days is getting to him.

“Why do I feel this will end in a horrible way?” he muttered. “I can’t get the image of that coat by the river out of my head.”

Stevie completely understood.

They silently stood in that position, drawing strength from each other. After a few moments, he pulled back, and she looked into his eyes. They both felt a little refreshed.

“I need to get back to work,” he said. “We’re right back where we were this morning. Outside of Wade stating that he didn’t kill the FBI agents and doesn’t have Liam, we’ve achieved nothing. People are still missing.”

Stevie agreed. She felt useless. “Sheila is back, and her camper won’t float away now. I’m headed to check on Farah Stewart and her cats. I shouldn’t be long.”

“Is Farah okay?”

“Yes. She called and said one was stuck in a tree surrounded by water, but the water is only a foot deep or so. I can handle that.”

“Be careful. Some of that water is moving fast. Even a foot could knock you over.”

“She said the water isn’t flowing under the tree, just backing up around it.”

He kissed her goodbye, his gaze lingering.

She parted reluctantly and strode to her vehicle, plans for creating a special evening for Zane spinning in her head. He needed a distraction, something positive to offset the recent frustrations. She drove a few blocks and parked in front of Nell’s little store.

The store was deserted except for Nell, and her shelves looked like a tornado had rolled through. Random cans and boxes were scattered here and there. “Hello Stevie, what can I do for you?”

“Do you have any cakes or pies left?” Stevie hated to ask after looking at the empty store.

“For Thanksgiving?”

“No, it’s for tonight . . . I’d like to make a special night for Zane.”

“Hmmmm.” Nell’s gaze was speculative. Stevie kept her lips shut. It was no one’s business what she and Zane did in the privacy of their home.

“He loves your carrot cake,” she suggested.

“I don’t have anything like that. I’m plumb wiped out.”

Stevie’s shoulders sagged. There was a good bottle of wine in their kitchen. She could offer Zane that.

“But I held some things back for Thanksgiving emergencies,” Nell admitted. “I can spare an apple pie, but there’s no vanilla ice cream left. People bought whatever they could get their hands on.”

“Sold!” Enthusiasm for the evening ahead filled her.

Two minutes later, she was headed to Farah Stewart’s home. The cat was an easy rescue for Stevie but impossible for Farah in her wheelchair. Stevie also checked that Farah’s refrigerator was well stocked and made certain she had plenty of food for her six cats. Her home sat on top of a small rise, so she would be fine if the river continued to creep up.

Stevie had just backed out of Farah’s driveway when Sheila called. “Ezra says he saw someone sneak onto Jacob’s property again. I tried to call Jacob, but I can’t get through.”

“I’m two miles away. I’ll be right there.”

Minutes later, Stevie wound down the long curving lane to Ezra Freeman’s home. She’d decided going to Ezra’s house first was more prudent than surprising gun-happy Jacob. Ezra met her in his driveway, walking gingerly and leaning on a cane. His eyes were slightly unfocused, and she wondered how much painkiller Dr. Mercer had administered to him.

“I saw someone walk right through there.” He pointed at an opening in a copse of trees at the bottom of a hill between his property and Jacob’s. “That path leads to the back of Jacob’s barn.”

“Isn’t that where you saw someone before?”

“Yep. This time I ain’t following them. I’ll let you do that.” He frowned at her. “Shouldn’t they have sent one of the men?”

Stevie bit her lip to keep from laughing. “I’m good, but thank you for your concern.”

“Ain’t right sending a lady into somethin’ I won’t face myself.”

“You are injured,” Stevie pointed out. “I’ll call for backup if I need help.” She jogged toward the path before he could call her a helpless young thing.

Under the trees, huge raindrops from the leaves plunked on her coat, a nice change from the constant shower of water. The path was muddy and surprisingly well used. Ezra must sneak over to watch Jacob more than he admits.

She halted at the sight of a single perfect boot mark in the mud. It was protected from the rain by a thick overhead branch.

Zane and Carter searched the area. It could be theirs. Or Ezra’s.

Pursing her lips, she hovered her foot directly over the print. It almost matched.

Ezra wore some of the clunkiest, widest boots she’d ever seen. Zane’s feet were definitely bigger than this print, and she’d tripped over Carter’s abandoned tennis shoes enough times at the office to know this couldn’t be his print.

Female. Or young male.

Liam was too young to have feet this big.

Stevie checked her surroundings, an odd sensation tingling on the back of her neck, as if she were being watched from every angle. She moved off the path, taking a parallel track under the weak cover of the tree trunks and leaves. A few moments later, the patch of trees ended, and she spotted the back of Jacob’s barn fifty yards away.

There was no cover between her and the barn.

I should have started at Jacob’s home.

As she considered her next move, a figure darted out of the barn, hunched over and running directly toward the path’s opening in the trees next to Stevie. A dark jacket with a large hood concealed the face, but she knew immediately it was a woman.

Dawn.

The woman’s hands were empty.

But could she be armed?

Stevie left her weapon in her holster but readied her hand above it. Dawn continued to run in her direction, her concentration on her feet. When she was ten feet away, Stevie stepped out from behind a tree.

“Stop. Solitude Police.”

Dawn slammed to a halt. Stevie caught a glimpse of her wide eyes and open mouth, but then Dawn performed a maneuver any wide receiver would envy and darted sharply to her right.

Oh no you don’t! Stevie launched herself after the woman.

Dawn dashed along the edge of the copse, mud flying from her boots. Stevie turned up her speed, cursing her extra twenty pounds of equipment. She drew closer and shouted again for Dawn to stop. The woman made the mistake of glancing over her shoulder and promptly lost her footing in the mud. She flew forward, landing on her chest, and Stevie dove on top of her, grabbing Dawn’s arm and twisting it behind the downed woman’s back.

“Get off me!”

“I don’t think so.” Stevie grabbed her cuffs from her belt and snapped them on a wrist. Nabbing Dawn’s other wrist, she secured her suspect. Panting, she crawled off the woman and kneeled in the mud a few feet away. “Why in the hell did you run?”

“You scared the crap out of me!” Dawn writhed in the dirt, still on her stomach. Mud splotched her perfect face.

“Wrong reason.” Stevie fought to catch her breath while her heart thumped in her chest. Her legs shook from the sprint, but she wasn’t about to let Dawn see.

“Argghh! Get me up!” The woman yanked on her cuffs, fury rolling off her.

Stevie watched. Dawn Hazelwood had rubbed her the wrong way from the first minute they’d met. Seeing her cuffed, pissed, and covered in mud made Stevie’s day.

“You’re trespassing.”

Blue eyes shot daggers her way. “Let me up.”

“Let’s chat a bit first. What are you doing here?”

Dawn pressed her mouth into a white line. “Looking around. I heard there was a sighting here earlier today.”

“A sighting of what?”

“Someone. I thought it could be one of my men. I still haven’t heard from them.”

Stevie struggled to believe that Dawn cared so deeply for the bumbling Dodge brothers that she would trespass in the rain. She tipped her head and considered the filthy woman. “You gave us the impression you were finished looking for the Dodge brothers. Could it be you’re looking for Wade? You told us you didn’t know who he was, but I didn’t believe you. Are you and Terry working together?”

She laughed. “Hell no. I want Knight Products out of business.”

“To increase Defendicon’s market share.”

“Of course.”

Feeling generous, Stevie helped her to a sitting position. She kept her own position low to the ground, eye to eye with her suspect. A woman-to-woman chat.

“Why the search for Wade?” Dawn hadn’t admitted she was looking for the thief, but guilt had flashed in her eyes when Stevie had said his name.

Dawn looked away. “He has information.”

“What information?”

“He knows something that will put Knight Products out of business.”

“And you know this how?”

Dawn was silent.

“Your mole. He got some data but not enough,” Stevie guessed. “And Wade has the rest, right?”

Dawn’s gaze met Stevie’s for the briefest moment and looked away.

“Why would Wade bother to tell you anything? You’d need to have—” Stevie stopped. Dawn would need to blackmail Wade with something important to him.

Like his son.

“You’re looking for Liam, not Wade.” Fury shot through her. “That’s why the Dodge brothers were in town. They were trying to get Liam for you. That was a bunch of bull you told us about hiring them to find Terry so you could talk to him in person. I can’t believe you hired those bumbling Dodge idiots.”

Dawn gave the smile of a snake. “They’re not idiots. Ethan and Lyle are two of the sharpest trackers in the state. They know how to behave to deflect attention from themselves. They cultivate an image so that people view them as you just did.”

Stevie caught her breath, picturing the two big men. Had the police been fooled?

“You thought you could blackmail Wade once you had his son?”

“I want my lawyer.”

Stevie jumped to her feet and hauled the woman up by one arm, purposefully twisting Dawn’s shoulder a little too much. “Do you know what that little boy has been through?” She wanted to spit nails. “He was held captive for three months. Locked in a dark basement and practically starved! I can’t believe he didn’t go crazy. His mother was killed, and he possibly witnessed the murder of two FBI agents.”

She yanked on Dawn’s arm, dragging her to her vehicle. The woman fought to keep her balance. If she goes facedown in the mud again, that’s okay with me.

“You’re no better than Terry and his hired goon. I hate people who think they can use humans as pawns to line their pockets. What’s so important that you have the right to torture the poor boy again?”

“Knight Products fucked up. They sold defective armor to the military.”

Stevie froze and then slowly turned to examine Dawn’s face. The woman’s gaze told Stevie she believed every word.

“Our military is wearing armor that won’t protect them?” Stevie questioned, barely able to speak.

“Some of them are.”

“This is what your mole told you? And Terry knows about it?”

“He does. And I assume Wade does too. I’d get the hell out of that company if my boss knowingly sold shit like that.”

The evidence I have will keep the company from ever recovering.

Wade’s words echoed in her head. He must have gone into hiding to protect his own skin. Stevie suspected he’d confronted Terry about the armor, and then he’d taken the money and run.

Wade couldn’t have known that Terry would kill his wife and take his son to blackmail him from reporting the faulty armor.

And now Dawn Hazelwood was determined to profit from Knight Products’ mistake.

Stevie’s gaze ran over the woman’s filthy clothes in disdain.

“I knew there was a reason I didn’t like you.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

“What is it?” Stevie asked as she and Zane entered the lobby and heard Sheila slam down the phone. They’d just processed Dawn Hazelwood, who was sitting on a bench in the back of the office, handcuffed to a ring embedded in the wall. It was serving as Solitude’s current holding cell since six inches of water still filled the town’s actual cell.

“What is wrong with people?” Sheila exclaimed. “Has the rain made everyone batty? Are their brains growing mildew? There are shots being fired. Lots of them, down at the campground near the west bend of the river.”

Stevie knew the exact place she meant.

“Who called it in?” Zane asked.

“A worried neighbor. She said it sounded like more gunfire than simply idiots blowing off steam. She said it sounded like a battle.”

“Send Kenny and Carter,” said Zane. Stevie slipped her coat back on. “Tell them to meet us at the highway marker right before the turn into the campground.”

She and Zane each got in their vehicles and drove toward the campground. The camp was run by the United States Forest Service and backed up to the Rogue River. During the summer, the campground rented tiny log cabins and nice trailer sites along with traditional spaces for tents. It was closed for the winter, but that didn’t stop people from driving around the gate and using the fishing dock. Or stop teenagers from throwing beer parties.

Two Solitude PD cruisers were parked on the highway shoulder a quarter mile from the campground. Kenny and Carter had their trunks open, gathering additional gear. She and Zane stopped behind them to hold a quick meeting. As she stepped out of the car, Stevie heard constant distant gunfire. Adrenaline shot through her nerves. She reached back into her car and grabbed the rifle at her dash, slinging it over her shoulder.

“Damn, I wish we had county backup,” Zane admitted. “I don’t like going into this situation blind.”

“I could scout ahead,” Carter suggested. “It might be target practice, you know.”

They listened to the shots, and Stevie knew that was a hopeful wish.

“No one practices here,” Kenny pointed out. “There’s a great place at the quarry a half mile away. Why would they do it here?”

“I’m going to assume it’s hostile,” Zane said. “Carter, I want you and Stevie to block the entrance with your vehicles but cut back and enter the campground by following the riverbank. Kenny and I will come in from the west on the utility access road. Everyone’s radios working?”

They all did a voice check.

“Get all the ammo you can carry,” Zane said grimly. “But our main goal is to not get shot and not let anyone else get hurt,” he emphasized. “Let’s go.” He headed back to his vehicle, Stevie on his tail. At his car, he stopped and hugged her tightly. “Don’t do anything stupid.” His voice was urgent, and he clenched her head in his hands, staring into her eyes as if he could will her safe. “Don’t let Carter do anything stupid.”

She kissed him. “Right back at you.” Stepping away, she held his gaze for a moment before she turned and walked back to her car, putting on her game face.

Please keep everyone safe.

###

Zane put Stevie out of his mind. He knew better than to worry about her. She was a better cop than the other two men, possibly better than he was. She’d worked in violent parts of Los Angeles before moving back to Solitude. He couldn’t be distracted with concerns about her safety.

But she’s my wife.

Tough. Get over it . . . I’ve got three officers who deserve my best right now.

He and Kenny drove another mile down the highway and turned onto an unmarked gravel road. Zane bumped his head as his vehicle rocked over the ruts. He’d busted numerous teens for underage drinking down this way, but they preferred to do that in the summer. At the moment, it was forty degrees and getting dark. At least the rain had paused.

He parked and Kenny stopped right behind him. Together they jogged toward the sound of gunfire. It was more intermittent now.

“Did you hear that?” asked Kenny.

“Did someone shout?”

“Yeah. And he was angry. This isn’t casual target practice.”

I knew that from the beginning.

Zane asked Carter for their location.

“We’re still on the riverbank, but we’ve passed all the campsites and are almost to the log cabins,” Carter panted. “I can see flashes from the gunfire. It’s near your end in the west.”

“Let me know what you see as you get closer.”

Zane and Kenny approached the river but kept moving in the direction of the campground. In his mind, he studied the layout of the camp. Cabins clustered at the far west end. The fishing dock ran along the river near the last of the cabins.

Visibility was getting worse, but Zane could still see a good hundred feet in front of him. The shots grew louder, and there were more shouts. He couldn’t make out the words.

“Listen!” Kenny stopped and froze behind a tree. Zane concentrated, trying to hear over the rush of the river, and thought he heard a high whine.

“Is that a dirt bike?” he whispered.

“Yeah, it’s coming in from the north. Must be on one of the hiking trails.”

“Zane,” came Carter through his earpiece. “There’s a motorcycle or something coming in.”

“We hear it.”

He gestured for Kenny to sit tight for a moment as he strained to see. A faint outline of a cabin was a hundred feet ahead at two o’clock, close to the river. He couldn’t see more cabins, but he knew they were scattered beyond it.

Directly ahead, a shadow ran in the distance. Zane tracked it to the thick trunk of a fir tree where it vanished. A moment later, gunfire flashed from a weapon’s barrel at the fir tree, pinpointing the shooter’s location.

“See that?” Kenny whispered.

“Yes.” I need backup.

The sheer danger of their situation froze him in place. He could be leading three officers into a nightmare.

A terrified scream made sweat bloom under his arms.

“Jeez,” Kenny choked out as he wiped his forehead. “Was that a kid screaming?”

Zane didn’t answer; the question was rhetorical. Liam?

Another shadowy figure moved in the dim light. This one was slightly closer, and as it stopped to fire, Zane saw a flash of his face.

Damn, if that’s not a Dodge brother.

Logic told him the first shadowy figure was the other brother.

“Stevie,” he whispered into his mic, “I think two of the shooters are the Dodge brothers.”

“Got it,” came Stevie’s reply. “Carter and I think they’re firing at someone in the cabin closest to the river. And someone in the cabin is firing back. I’ve seen flashes from a window.”

“Did you hear the scream?”

“Yeah. That was from the cabin too. Zane . . . that was a child.”

“I know.”

“Are there more shooters?” she asked. “Two in the woods, one in the cabin?”

“I don’t know. Keep your eyes open. I don’t know what happened to the dirt bike.”

“We’ve got to get the kid out. Clearly the shooters in the woods are out to hurt whoever is in the cabin.”

“Agreed. Where are you?”

“We’re behind cabin 13. It’s fifty yards northeast of the cabin with the gunfire flashes.”

“Sit tight for a few minutes. We need to get closer.”

He gestured for Kenny to follow him, and staying low, they darted to another set of trees.

The dirt bike whine moved closer. Zane and Kenny turned their attention to the north, where the engine sounds came from.

“I don’t see a headlight,” whispered Kenny. “We should see one by now.”

Unless you don’t want to be seen.

The engine cut off.

Damn, that sounded close.

A moment later, a third figure dashed from the direction of the dirt bike noise and moved in the direction of the first two shooters. Zane spotted the silhouette of a gun in his hand. Before he could speak to Kenny, the new shooter took a stance and fired in the direction where Zane had seen a Dodge brother.

Zane darted behind his tree as the racket of return fire filled the evening. The new shooter wasn’t directly between him and the brothers, but he wasn’t taking any chances with a stray bullet from the Dodges.

After a moment, he heard footsteps running in his direction. Risking a look, he saw it was the new shooter. He was tall and thin with a heavy beard, and he wore a black cap and dark clothing, blending in with his surroundings. The runner stopped and shot back at the men who had been firing on the cabin. An adult-male scream filled up the night, the shots momentarily pausing. Then came an eruption of anguished cursing.

Black Hat jogged closer to Zane’s hiding spot. He passed the tree, and Zane raised his weapon, stepped out, and spoke to the man’s back. “Stop. Solitude Police.”

The man froze and spread out his arms, holding his weapon with one finger through the trigger guard.

He looked over his shoulder, making eye contact with Zane.

“Thank God, the police are here,” he uttered.

That’s Wade Pierce.

###

Stevie and Carter peered out from behind their cabin. It was good cover, made from actual logs that were at least ten inches in diameter, but Stevie was still thankful for her vest.

Remembering Dawn’s statement about Knight Products selling faulty vests to the military infuriated her all over again. People had to trust their equipment.

“Zane says to wait here until they can get closer,” she told Carter.

“Fine by me,” muttered Carter. “Sorry, running toward gunfire makes me nervous.”

“Find your damn spine,” Stevie ordered harshly. It wasn’t time to offer sympathy. “I don’t need you flaking out on me. On all of us.”

Determination filled his face, pleasing her.

The loud river hadn’t blocked out the petrified scream a minute ago. Terror had shot to the very marrow of her bones at the noise. She’d heard a scream like that once before when a child fell during a skateboard competition. The bone sticking out of his arm had justified the otherworldly sounds.

Fresh gunfire sounded.

She exchanged a look with Carter. “That’s coming from a different direction,” he muttered.

Zane?

Another scream followed by adult-male swearing rattled her nerves. Someone had been shot. She risked another look around the corner, spotting a person writhing on the ground fifty feet away. One of the men Zane had believed was a Dodge brother.

Good.

“Zane,” she spoke into her mic. “One of them is down. I don’t know where the other one is.”

Silence.

Panic swirled in her stomach. “Zane?”

“Hang on.”

She exhaled. Stay focused.

But it was hard when gunfire surrounded your husband.

Please let nothing happen to him.

Her plans for his special evening were in the toilet. She told herself that it didn’t matter. It was just pie.

“Zane—”

“Wait.”

“Dammit,” she mumbled to Carter. “What’s going on?” She peeked around the corner again. The man on the ground had stopped moving. Shit.

The gunfire started again. This time it’d moved closer to the river, but someone was also returning fire from the cabin.

“Stevie. Liam and Marcus are in the cabin,” Zane finally said.

“How do you know?”

“Because Wade Pierce just told me.”

“What?”

“Wade was on the dirt bike. He’s been following Ethan Dodge. It looks like Ethan got a phone call from his brother, Lyle, when Lyle found the boy and his uncle at the cabin. Wade tried to follow Ethan here but lost him until he heard the gunfire.”

“Wade just shot one of them?”

“Yes.”

“Zane, the guy who was shot isn’t moving anymore,” Stevie told him in a low tone.

“Dammit. But our focus now is on getting Liam out of the cabin. And Marcus is not a friendly. Wade heard that Marcus tried to sell the boy to Dawn Hazelwood.”

“Wade didn’t say that when I talked to him earlier today,” said Stevie, stunned by the news about Marcus.

“He heard Ethan talk about it with Lyle. He said Marcus wanted a lot of money.”

“I don’t understand,” she whispered.

“We’ll figure it out later. Right now, we need to get to Liam. We’re down to one Dodge brother, so Kenny and I will get to the back of the cabin and figure out where the boy is inside. I want you and Carter to focus on Marcus and the remaining Dodge.”

“Understood.”

She turned to Carter. “Move with me. We need to find the other outside shooter. And the shooter in the cabin is not friendly.” With Carter right behind her, they moved out from their cover.

“Did you see how high the river is?” Carter asked quietly as they jogged between the trees and other cabins. “I’ve never seen it like that.”

“Couldn’t miss it.” As they’d followed the riverbank into the campground earlier, the roar of the water had made it impossible to hear. She still had the river’s smell of churned-up mud and moss in her nose.

The gunfire had stopped. Stevie realized she preferred the noise; it told her the shooters’ locations.

“Give me the boy, Marcus!” came a yell from ahead of them.

Stevie and Carter dipped behind a large bush and froze.

“I told Dawn what I wanted for him!” shouted Marcus from the cabin.

“She said for you to go to hell!” the shooter yelled back. “She won’t pay that kind of money. Now send him out before I have to come in and get him!”

The soft sound of a child crying reached Stevie. Liam.

Did Dawn know where he was all along?

“Fuck you!” Marcus yelled.

A barrage of bullets hit the front door of the cabin.

###

Zane didn’t know whether to feel relieved or sorry for Wade.

“Oh my God,” Wade breathed, bending over to rest his hands on his thighs. “Liam’s alive. I’d hoped he was when I overheard Ethan, but I wasn’t positive . . .”

“Stay back,” ordered Zane. “We’ll get him out.”

“I can—”

“You will do nothing but stay right here!” He held Wade’s gaze to make his point.

Zane struggled to understand that the man he’d originally thought had killed two FBI agents was standing beside him. And he’d just shot one of the Dodge brothers.

Wade looked exhausted. His hair and beard hadn’t been touched in days, and the odor from his filthy clothing rivaled a pig farm. He was the epitome of a man who had been on the run for three months, avoiding the police, and searching for his son.

Zane signaled Kenny and moved toward the back of the cabin. He saw two small windows on the side closest to him and hoped there was a door on the side facing the river. He ignored the yelling between Marcus and the remaining brother at the front of the cabin. They were now Stevie and Carter’s responsibility.

Soft cursing told him Wade had not listened to his directions and was following.

“Damn you, Marcus,” Wade muttered. “I never dreamed you could be bought.”

“Why would Marcus sell Liam to Dawn Hazelwood?” Kenny asked Wade, as he silently tread behind Zane.

“Kenny, shut up,” hissed Zane.

“She wants to blackmail me into giving her the evidence to put Knight Products out of business.”

Zane halted and whirled around, crouching in the poor light. “Both of you. Shut. Up. Now.”

The men shut up.

Zane pushed on. Liam hadn’t fallen in the river. He should feel relieved, but the jacket still stuck in his mind. Along with mental echoes of another boy who didn’t make it.

Liam was lucky. The other boy hadn’t been.

He shook his head, getting the drowned boy out of his thoughts.

“What’s that?” Kenny whispered at the exact moment Zane saw a figure drop from one of the back windows.

The figure was small and faded into the shadows of the cabin.

Liam.

Gunfire started again, and the boy darted away from the house. He ran in a confused zigzag pattern, tripped, and fell down, but he instantly jumped back up and sprinted in another direction. The wrong direction. Away from them.

“Liam!” Wade shouted. He lunged forward, but Zane grabbed him, nearly dropping his gun.

“You’re running into gunfire.”

“My boy is running into gunfire!”

Zane tapped his mic with his weapon still in hand. “Stevie! The boy has slipped out the back, and we need a distraction now!”

There was no answer, but a moment later, new shots sounded from farther away, creating more shouting from the front of the house.

“Zane, Liam’s getting too close to the water,” said Kenny. “The banks will be slick.”

Wade broke out of Zane’s grip and ran full tilt after his son.

Cursing, Zane sprinted after him.

###

Stevie fired. The first idea that popped in her head for a distraction.

She knew the last Dodge brother was between her position and the river. He was still firing at the house, the flashes from his muzzle giving her a target.

A piercing scream from his direction was a welcome sound to her ears.

“Let’s go!” she told Carter.

They carefully followed the sounds of a male cursing. They passed the unmoving body of the first Dodge brother. Stevie stopped for a quick moment and checked his pulse. None.

“There’s still someone with a gun in the house,” Carter reminded her unnecessarily.

“Zane said Liam got out. I wonder if Marcus knows that yet.”

They found the second brother thrashing in the mud, a gunshot wound in his leg. Carter kicked the rifle out of his reach and searched him on the ground, cuffing the suspect as Stevie covered him, keeping one eye on the silent cabin.

Where is Marcus?

“Name?” Stevie ordered.

“Fuck you! Aren’t you going to help me? I’m fucking bleeding here!”

No jetting spurts came from the gunshot wound, and the blood flow looked slow to Stevie’s eyes. “I think you’ll live. Unlike your brother over there.”

The man tipped his head back into the mud and let out an inhuman wail.

He hadn’t realized his brother had died.

Hairs rose on Stevie’s arms at the sound, and even Carter stumbled backward a step.

“Liam? Liam? Where the hell are you?” came shouts from inside the cabin.

Now Marcus knows Liam got out.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Zane saw Liam flinch as he heard his name called from the cabin. He took a sharp turn, running blindly toward the river.

“Liam, no!” Wade shouted at his son as he, Zane, and Carter tore after the boy.

It was a dangerous dash through the dark. As Zane knocked fir limbs out of his way, he prayed he wouldn’t step in a hole. He kept his gaze locked on the tiny running shadow.

The boy put out a burst of speed and seemed to drop out of sight.

The riverbank.

Seconds later, Wade jerked to a halt at the top of the bank. “Noooo!” He plunged down the bank just as Zane reached the same spot.

Zane’s heart stopped. Liam had landed in the water, but he’d managed to grab the branch of a fallen tree leaning twenty feet into the river. Terror filled his tiny face. Wade carefully moved toward his son, the water halfway up his calves. He’d have to swim in the rough water to reach the boy.

Zane froze as the thin tree bent from the boy’s weight and the powerful rush of the river. Not again.

“Holy shit, Zane!” Kenny arrived and started down the bank after Wade.

Zane couldn’t move. He stared at the tree and Liam, imagining the boy letting go. Or the tree coming loose.

“Zane! Come on!” Kenny looked up the bank at him, confusion on his face.

No. Zane looked downriver at the fishing dock fifty yards away. He turned and sprinted toward the floating wooden structure.

###

Stevie knew something was going on at the river. She’d seen three tall figures run to its banks, and muffled shouts sounded over the crash of the water. But she was focused on the man who’d come to the door of the cabin, a pistol in his hand.

Is that the FBI agent’s missing gun?

“Step out of the cabin, Marcus!” She veered closer, moving from fir tree to fir tree, Carter a few steps behind her. “Liam is with the police!” I hope.

Marcus’s shoulders slumped. Stevie didn’t feel one bit sorry for him.

“Put the gun down and kick it away.”

He didn’t obey.

“You’ve got two officers with weapons on you. Put the gun down.”

“He’s not going to do it,” Carter whispered. “What do we do?”

“Talk to him.” In a louder voice she said, “Nothing’s happened yet, Marcus. Liam is fine. You can stop this now before it gets any worse.”

“No one cares that I shot two FBI agents?” He gave a watery laugh and slowly shook his head. “I got in over my head,” he said, sounding crushed. “At that moment, it seemed like the only route to keep Liam away from Wade. And Dawn Hazelwood said she’d make it worth my while. I wanted to do everything possible to hurt Wade for destroying Shannon’s life.”

Damn him. “It’s not too late to turn yourself in. It’ll look better to a prosecutor if you give yourself up.” Bile churned in Stevie’s stomach as she remembered the blood splatter on the windshield of the vehicle.

Was that only yesterday?

Did he really kill two men just to keep Liam away from Wade? And make some money from Dawn?

“It’s still Wade’s fault,” Marcus intoned. “None of this would have happened if it wasn’t for him.”

“Wade didn’t kill your sister.”

“I know that. Now. But he might as well have pulled the trigger. If he had gone to the police with what he knew, Shannon wouldn’t be dead.” Tears choked his voice. “I never planned to hurt Liam. My God, I fucked up.” He swayed slightly in the doorway, and Stevie prayed he wouldn’t go back inside.

“Maybe you should ask Wade why he didn’t go to the police.” Stevie was grasping at straws to stall. His tone had steadily grown more despairing. “We can set up a time for you to talk to him. Maybe his answer will surprise you.”

“It doesn’t matter now. Shannon’s dead. I’ll never see my baby sister again, and I ended two other lives for no fucking reason at all!”

He spun around and went back in the cabin. Slamming the door behind him.

“Crap!” Stevie gestured for Carter to move closer with her.

A single gunshot had them both ducking and diving for cover. She waited for the next shot.

No. Please, no. “Marcus?” She held her breath. “Marcus?”

“Oh God.” Carter let loose a string of expletives. “Do you think he shot himself?”

“I don’t know.” She looked to the riverbank in the waning light. One figure stood motionless on the bank. She wondered where the others had gone.

She and Carter made their way to the cabin, occasionally calling for Marcus to answer them. Silently, Stevie stood to one side of a window and took a quick glance inside.

Her eyes screwed shut, trying to block out what she’d seen.

“He did it,” she told Carter, exhaustion suddenly hitting her limbs. She leaned against the log wall. “That was the last shooter, right?”

“I think so.”

Screams and shrieks reverberated across the grounds from the river.

Exhaustion forgotten, Stevie and Carter sprinted for the water.

###

It happened.

Exactly as Zane had seen it in his mind’s eye thirty seconds ago.

Liam lost hold of the branch and was rushed away in the water. His father and Kenny out of reach, shouting at the boy, trying to run in several feet of water.

They would never catch him.

From the floating fishing dock, Zane locked his gaze on the boy’s bobbing head. Just stay where I can see you.

If the boy followed his current path, he’d shoot past Zane within a few feet of the dock. The dock moved up and down with the water, tipping and swaying, making it nearly impossible for Zane to stay on his feet. He dropped to his knees, his hand stretched out, the other hand gripping the piling.

Any second now.

Liam’s terror-filled gaze met his.

I’m not going to miss you.

“Zane!”

He ignored Stevie’s shout. He couldn’t break eye contact with Liam. Steps pounded on the far end of the dock, still too far away to help.

Liam rushed closer, but his watery path changed, and he angled out toward the center of the river.

I’m not going to reach him.

I’ll have to go in the water.

Zane stretched as far as he could, knowing he would miss the boy’s hand by inches.

He sucked in a deep breath for the cold shock of the river, let go of the piling, and lunged forward.

His hand closed around Liam’s as a jolting yank at his waist kept his feet on the dock and dragged him backward. His head hit the water, plunged under, and he grasped the little hand in a death grip. Wrenching pulls on Zane’s belt and coat hauled his head out of the water as he clung to Liam. The force of the river tried to wash the boy out of his grip, and Zane couldn’t haul him in. But he wouldn’t let go.

Not while I’m still breathing.

“Liam!” Wade dropped onto his stomach beside Zane and reached for his son. His hand clasped Liam’s wrist, just beyond Zane’s grip, and he pulled. Wade seemed to have superhuman strength and lifted his son out of the water by one arm, Zane’s hand still clenching Liam’s.

Zane lay motionless on the dock, forcing his frozen hand to let go as Wade hugged his son.

Behind him, Stevie and Carter sat on the dock, both shaking from exertion, their hands still on his belt and coat.

Zane brushed water out of his eyes as Stevie crawled into his arms, and simply lay on top of him, her entire body quivering. His arms each weighed a ton as he wrapped them around her. And breathed.

“Stevie grabbed your coat just as you dived in,” Carter choked out. “I thought you both were going in the river.”

“I was.”

“Not on my watch,” Stevie muttered into his neck. “I couldn’t let you go in. You both would have died. I can’t lose you.”

Zane knew better than to argue with her.

CHAPTER NINE

Thanksgiving, two days later

Dining with the entire Taylor clan was an experience. Zane remembered his first time about a year and a half ago, and now he enjoyed Dean Mercer’s awe during his first immersion into the rambunctious family. Zane suspected the psychiatrist would attend many more celebrations. Patsy Taylor had a gleam in her eye that had been missing since her husband’s death. And Dean couldn’t take his eyes off her.

Dean had no idea who Dawn Hazelwood was when Zane and Stevie had shown him the group picture from the fundraiser. He’d been shocked to hear the woman had tried to kidnap Liam and hold him for ransom.

Zane, Seth, and Bruce had privately conferred about the psychiatrist and had agreed the man deserved a chance with Patsy. But if Dean ever stepped out of line, he would have three angry men to answer to. And two enraged Taylor daughters.

Setting a basket of rolls on the table, Zane looked up as the doorbell rang and Bruce let in a young woman. A very pretty young woman. Bruce immediately put on a big smile, and Zane could see happiness radiating from him. “Who’s that?” Zane whispered to Carly.

“That’s Julie Sanchez. She was a nurse on duty the night we took Liam to the hospital.” Glee filled her tone. “I thought she’d caught Bruce’s attention that day.”

“What do you know about her?” Zane scowled at Julie.

Carly lightly punched his arm. “Settle down. Bruce can look out for himself.”

She was right. The lazy young musician Zane had first met had matured into a responsible man. Life had kicked him in the teeth, and he’d emerged stronger instead of crumbling.

“Big” Bill Taylor would be proud of his youngest son.

Scanning the room, Zane felt a sharp stab of sorrow that Bill was missing the warm family gathering. Zane had believed Bill was the rock of the clan, but now he suspected that Bill and Patsy had formed the solid base together. Patsy had pushed on after his death, keeping her focus and love on her children and their families.

Zane hadn’t missed the stash of fireworks in the back of Stevie’s vehicle. He knew she and Carly had plans to visit their father’s grave after the big meal to continue their father’s tradition of lighting illegal fireworks on holidays.

“What else can I do to help?” he asked Patsy, who was holding court in the warm kitchen, giving orders right and left as she checked on her turkey, beat the mashed potatoes, and pulled the stuffing out of the oven all at once.

“Open the wine,” she stated as she grabbed a fragile glass bowl of salted nuts from the hands of James and Debra’s youngest son. “Let me do that, honey.” She gave the child a handful of nuts and sent him out of her workspace.

Zane winked at his nephew. The boy’s dark eyes reminded him of Liam’s. Wade and Liam had left town yesterday as soon as one of the roads had opened. Wade had told Zane he’d originally taken the $10 million to force Terry’s hand into telling the military about the faulty equipment. Instead, Terry had immediately struck back by killing Wade’s wife and kidnapping his son. Wade grabbed the body armor evidence and ran, staying under the radar and hunting for his child. Wade had heard on the news that he’d been accused of abusing his wife before her death and emphatically told Zane it wasn’t true, speculating that it was a rumor started by Terry. Yes, he battled anger issues and PTSD, but he’d never raised a hand against his wife.

Wade had turned over the Knight Products’ faulty-armor evidence to the Seattle FBI agents who had arrived to take charge of their two murdered coworkers. They’d promised to inform the military immediately and confirm that the appropriate actions were taken to replace all the armor.

“Will Wade be charged for taking the ten million from Knight?” Zane had asked one of the Seattle agents.

“No. We took a closer look at the path of the stolen money. Everything points to Terry Reece having stolen the ten million, not Wade.”

“What?” Zane had been shocked. But then he’d thought about the CFO who’d been in hiding for three months. Would a financial wizard leave tracks that led to himself?

Zane didn’t think so. Wade’s revenge for his wife’s murder had included turning over the company-destroying evidence and setting up the CEO to look like a thief.

Zane was impressed.

Marcus was dead, a pawn whose grief and anger over his sister’s murder had turned him into a kidnapper and a murderer bent on vengeance.

Terry Reece and Dawn Hazelwood were both in jail.

Wade and Liam were home free.

Without a wife and mother.

The pain of losing his wife still hovered around Wade. It’d weighed on Zane to simply be in his presence. The relief of having his son back helped, but the sadness still shone in Wade’s eyes.

What if something had happened to Stevie?

Zane grabbed four bottles of wine from a corner of the kitchen and took them to the table. He maneuvered the corkscrew into the first and discreetly spied on his wife. She and Carly were setting the table. Plates, plates, and more plates. Zane didn’t understand why the dinner plates were set on top of another unused plate. Then there was the salad plate, bread plate, and appetizer plate. He didn’t know what the others were for.

But the Taylor women liked to do holidays right. The room was already decorated with Christmas decor. A huge noble fir tree, fresh garland, lit candles, and red bows. Everywhere. Patsy liked the house decorated by Thanksgiving so she could enjoy a long holiday season.

He levered out a cork and inhaled the scents of the room. Turkey, freshly baked bread, fir boughs, and cinnamon. He watched Stevie pop half a buttered roll in her mouth and glance to see if her mother had noticed. Zane grinned, and Stevie’s gaze stopped at his.

My hot wife.

Her long, curly hair was twisted into a messy knot at the back of her head, making Zane want to loosen it and watch the hair fall down over her shoulders. Knowing he couldn’t touch her that way for a few hours made him slightly cranky. Her eyes lit up, and she batted her lashes at him with an accompanying grin; she’d known exactly what he’d been thinking.

How can I miss my wife when she’s fifteen feet away?

Music started. No Taylor get-together was complete without music. Bruce sat at the piano and pounded out Billy Joel’s “Piano Man.” Julie sat beside him, and he encouraged her to sing.

Zane’s brows shot up at the woman’s pitch-perfect voice, and he met Stevie’s gaze again, a silent message between them. Julie passed the first test in fitting with the Taylor clan.

He sighed. Life didn’t get any better than this.

###

Stevie was delighted by the sounds of Julie and Bruce. The couple made a nice harmony together. Maybe . . .

She watched Zane lever out another wine cork, thoroughly charmed by her husband, who smiled as he took orders from her mother. A good man. Her whole body quaked as the scare from the river assaulted her again. For the last two nights, she’d dreamed she’d missed Zane’s coat and he’d gone in the water never to come up.

What if he wasn’t here today? She grew weepy at the thought as she mechanically set the table. It was more important than ever that Zane was still at her side.

She didn’t understand how she’d managed to hold back a diving man of Zane’s size and weight. Her shoulder still ached where she’d torn a muscle.

She was strong. But she wasn’t that strong.

Only someone as huge as her father could have stopped Zane.

Miss you, Daddy.

Dean Mercer brought over the silverware holder, and Stevie took it from his hands. “Show me how to do this,” he asked. “There are too many spoons.”

She laid out one setting in demonstration, knowing it was more than they’d ever use. Dean studied the setting. “Got it.” He perfectly set the next, and Stevie’s eyes smarted at the sight of a man who wanted to please her mother. Together they finished the table.

Carly bustled over with the dish of cranberries and a serving bowl of green beans. “That looks perfect!” She beamed at Dean.

It’s just silverware. Her sister’s praise seemed excessive. Stevie narrowed her eyes at Carly. She’d worn a constant smile all day and acted secretly pleased about something. Seth passed by and his hand lingered at his wife’s waist. The heated look they exchanged made Stevie happy for the two of them . . . but something was up.

She’d pry it out of Carly later.

“Time to eat!” Patsy stated as Dean set a big platter of sliced turkey in the middle of the table. Everyone scrambled to find their seats. Zane played waiter, pouring wine in all the wine glasses and then took his chair next to Stevie, grasping her hand under the table. Dean sat next to her mother, and James took her father’s old place at the other end of the table. Everyone talked at once, a joyful clamor of family.

Stevie looked around the table, her heart bursting with happiness. Tears burned again.

I’m so damned emotional.

Zane squeezed her hand, and she looked at him. There was a questioning, caring message in his eyes.

He knows I’ve been on an emotional roller coaster since the river.

It’s time.

Stevie stood up, and the voices slowly cut off as everyone looked at her expectantly.

“I’m so happy right now,” Stevie said, ignoring the crack in her voice. “Our family is safely together, and we welcome our new friends. I hope we don’t scare you away,” she said earnestly to Dean and Julie.

A smattering of laughter.

“It’s been a difficult few years, but I think we’re better for the trials we’ve each faced. I know I am.” She met Zane’s loving gaze. Stevie picked up her water goblet and held it, ready to make a toast. Patsy’s gaze locked on Stevie’s glass, and she gasped.

Small Town Rule #4: Everyone knows your announcement before you make it.

Stevie looked at Zane and blurted. “I’m pregnant.” And burst into happy tears.

“Whaaaat?” Carly shrieked, and Zane knocked over his chair as he leaped up and embraced Stevie. Patsy cheered, and James and Bruce let out whoops of excitement.

“Oh my God,” he whispered in her ear. “That’s so incredible!”

Stevie sank into his hug, her emotions swinging like a pendulum from happy to crazy-ecstatic and back to happy again. At that moment, everything was right in their world.

He pulled back, and she saw his eyes were wet. “When did you find out?”

“The morning of the day you nearly went in the river after Liam.” Stevie gave a watery sniff. “I had a special evening planned for the two of us, and I was going to tell you then. But instead I nearly lost you!” Her voice rose and her tears started fresh.

“You went to that shoot-out knowing you were pregnant?” He paled, and moisture started down his cheeks. “What if . . .” He choked and hugged her to him again, letting the sentence and anger float away. “It doesn’t matter now.”

“Dammit, Stevie!” Carly jumped to her feet and put her hands on her hips. “I was going to announce that I’m pregnant!”

“We’re pregnant,” Seth amended in a normal tone. He stood and put an arm around his wife’s shoulders with a grin as he met Stevie’s shocked gaze.

That’s what was up with Carly.

Patsy clapped her hands, bouncing in her seat. “My girls! Two babies! When are you due?”

“Next summer,” Stevie and Carly announced in unison. The sisters stared at each other in delight.

“This is going to be awesome,” Carly stated, a big grin on her face.

“Yes, it is,” Stevie agreed, leaning against her husband and looking into his dark eyes. She felt completely connected to him; the two of them made a complete whole. But in the air around them, she sensed a tiny life force that would change that equation. For the better.

She couldn’t wait for the future.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Photo © 2016 Rebekah Jule Photography

Inspired by classic female heroines such as Nancy Drew, Trixie Belden, and Laura Ingalls Wilder, Kendra Elliot has always been a voracious reader. Now a Wall Street Journal bestselling author, Kendra is a three-time winner of the Daphne du Maurier Award for Excellence in Romantic Mystery/Suspense. She was also an International Thriller Writers finalist for Best Paperback Original and an RT Award finalist for Best Romantic Suspense.

Kendra was born and raised in the rainy Pacific Northwest, where she still lives with her husband and three daughters, though she’s looking forward to the day when she can live in flip-flops. To learn more about the author and her work and to connect with her, visit www.KendraElliot.com.