“I should have done something. It was my responsibility to watch out for her that day!”
“That’s not fair, Kensie. You can’t carry that burden.” He stared into her eyes, watching them darken with anger or frustration. Who was he to talk about the burden of survivor’s guilt? But when it came to this, he knew he was right, so he pressed forward. “And look what kind of sister you’ve been. All these years later and you’re here, searching for her, when even law enforcement won’t.”
It didn’t seem possible, but she squeezed his hand even tighter. “Thank you for helping me,” she whispered.
Kissing her yesterday had been a mistake. He knew it. But that didn’t stop him from wanting to lean forward and do it again right now.
It took more willpower than he’d thought he had to resist that urge. Instead, he asked, “How sure are you about this guy you saw in the store?”
She let out a humorless laugh. “Not sure at all. But he ran when I asked him about my sister.”
Colter frowned. He didn’t even know the guy’s name and yet he couldn’t imagine the loner being a child kidnapper. But even though Desparre locals tended to be wary of strangers, running away from questions was suspicious. And, absolutely, something sounded off about the guy.
The question was, had Kensie spooked him? If so, would he run before they could figure out if he had Alanna?
* * *
“EITHER HE’S THE one who kidnapped Alanna or he knows who did.” Kensie spoke the words with certainty, tapping the picture she’d snapped before the guy had run away from her as fast as he could.
Colter frowned, like he was unconvinced.
But still, he’d brought her here, to a cozy restaurant-slash-food-store halfway between the snow supply warehouse and downtown. Apparently, the owner had lived in the area all his life and Colter claimed if anyone could tell them more about their suspect, it was him.
Their suspect. It sounded like something a detective would say, one of the overworked, tired-looking officers assigned to Alanna’s case. We have a suspect, but don’t get your hopes up. She’d heard those words a few times over the years, but they’d never led anywhere, even though she’d always gotten her hopes up.
This time had to be different. She refused to consider any other possibility. She wasn’t sure she could handle another disappointment.
Just the idea of returning home without Alanna made pain lodge behind her breastbone, where it always did when she thought about how long her sister had been gone. Over the years, she’d had moments where she’d felt like maybe she could come to terms with the cold, hard statistics that said Alanna was long dead. But those moments were always fleeting, either because the idea was too much to bear or because she and her sister had always shared a special connection. Wouldn’t she feel it in her heart if Alanna was gone?
The idea was foolish. Intellectually, she knew it. But she still believed.
“What are you thinking?”
Colter’s words broke into her thoughts and Kensie looked up at him. Backlit by one of the restaurant’s cozy lamps, which brought out the gold in his hair and softened the sharp lines of his face, he looked even sexier than usual. Her stomach flipped around for a different reason. Why couldn’t she meet a man like this back in Chicago, with Colter’s intensity and dedication, but without all of the baggage weighing on him so heavily she could practically see it?
“I’m thinking this has to be the break I need.” Her words came out soft, almost sultry, and Kensie cleared her throat, ashamed of herself for lusting after Colter when all of her attention needed to be on Alanna.
To distract herself, she reached down and Rebel obligingly sat up, giving her easy access to stroke the dog’s soft fur. Apparently, either Alaska was lenient about pet rules or everyone just knew and liked Rebel. She suspected the latter. Despite what people had told her about Colter not getting out much, the town seemed to be small enough that everyone knew of him and Rebel, if not the details of their lives.
“I hope so,” Colter replied, but the lines between his eyebrows told her that her optimism worried him.
He probably figured she’d break if it turned out to be a dead end. If only he knew how many dead ends she’d survived over the years. Then again, she wasn’t sure she had it in her to survive another.
Instead of replying, Kensie glanced around the lodge. She didn’t have to look far.
The man approaching—with his long gray beard, weathered skin and seen-it-all gaze—had to be the owner. He shook Colter’s hand, gave Rebel a slight frown, then glanced at Kensie. “New to Alaska?”
“Yes, I’m—”
“We’re wondering if you could help us with something.” Colter cut her off. He grabbed her phone and held it up. “You know this guy?”
The owner glanced from the phone to her and back again. “Seen him around over the years. Can’t say I know his name. He’s not really a talkative sort. Keeps to himself, seems to like it that way. You must understand the feeling.”
Colter just lifted an eyebrow, but Kensie sighed, disappointed. “We should track down the owner of the snowplow shop. This guy was yelling his name when he came in. They know each other. Maybe the store owner knows where to find him.”
“Why are you looking for him?” the owner prodded.
“I think—”
“We just need his help with something.” Colter stood, dropping some money on the table for the cocoas they’d ordered but barely touched. Beside her, Rebel stood, watching Colter attentively. “Any chance you can tell us how to find Derrick Notte?”
“Guy who owns the snowplow place? Yeah, I can give you his address.” He stared hard at Colter, ignoring Kensie and Rebel altogether. “But you piss him off and we’re going to have problems.”
Colter smiled, but it was hard and uncompromising. “He’s not the one I’m planning to piss off.”
The owner stared a minute longer, then let out a snort of laughter. “All right. Why don’t you finish your drinks and I’ll get the address.”
Colter nodded and sat back down. Rebel followed suit, settling back on her hind legs.
Kensie lowered herself into her chair more slowly, waiting until the owner had walked away to whisper, “What was that about?”
“People like their privacy out here. He’s giving me Derrick’s home address on faith. If Derrick gets mad about it, he’ll start something.”
“Seems a little dramatic,” Kensie muttered.
“Yeah, it is. But I didn’t want him to know what you were thinking. People out here don’t like it when you assume the worst about us.”
“I’m not,” Kensie protested. “It’s not a generalization. It’s just this guy looks like—”
“I know,” Colter cut her off. “But he didn’t, and I didn’t want to get into it. People here will help you if you need it, but they’ve got a live-and-let-live attitude. You probably hear about the ones running from the law, but we get the other side of it, too.”
“What does that mean? People like you?”
Colter’s lips twisted. “Yeah, I guess. I meant more like people running from someone who’s hurt them. They rely on the residents here to respect their privacy. Domestic violence survivors, victims of stalkers, things like that.”
“Oh.” Kensie stared out the window of the restaurant at dense, snowy woods. The guy at the rental car place had told her Desparre had a higher population of bears than it did people. A smart place to hide from someone who wanted to do you harm. But too easy for a kidnapper to hide away with his victim, too.
“Kensie, can I ask you something?”
She refocused on the man across from her, and the serious expression on his face made her nervous. “Okay.”
“There’s something that’s been bothering me since you first told me about your sister’s note.”
“What is it?” She a
lmost didn’t want to know the answer. It felt like the trajectory of her entire life was riding on the outcome of this note.
Colter must have sensed her distress, because he set down his mug of cocoa, reached across the table and took her hand. His roughened fingers rubbed over her palm, sending shivers up her arm.
It was the kind of thing a boyfriend would do. Not a guy you’d just met who’d agreed to be your guide in the Alaskan wilderness. Kensie tried to ignore the emotions he was stirring up.
“If the note is really from your sister, why did she walk into a store and leave a message, but not run or ask for help? Surely if she was in distress or someone had her immobilized, she never would have been able to leave the note at all without the store owner noticing.”
Kensie nodded, staring down at their joined hands. It had bothered her from the beginning, too, and for two entirely different reasons.
Taking a deep breath, she met his gaze. “It might be a sign that the note is fake.” The possibility hurt, and she didn’t want to even consider it, but she knew it was there.
Years of coordinating with law enforcement and private cold-case groups had also taught her the other possibility, which in some ways was even worse. “Or it could mean she’s so afraid of her kidnapper or so conditioned to obey him that even given the chance to run, she won’t take it.”
In Colter’s eyes, she saw understanding and sadness. As a soldier, he’d probably seen cases like that, captives who’d been tortured so badly that even when they saw a chance to escape, they were too terrified to try.
If that was what had happened with her sister—if the note was a final, desperate plea for someone to find her because she couldn’t manage to run on her own—what shape would she be in if they located her?
Would the Alanna she’d known still be in there? Or would the woman Alanna had become be a hollow shell of the girl she’d once been?
If that was the case, Kensie wasn’t sure either of them would ever recover from what happened in Desparre.
Chapter Eight
Kensie was discouraged.
He never should have asked her about the note. If Colter had been thinking, he would have realized the implications without her having to tell him.
He didn’t like that she knew what it meant. Not that he thought she was naive or clueless, but as much as he didn’t want a connection, he couldn’t deny that he cared about Kensie. Hopefully she wouldn’t be in Desparre for long. He wanted a happy ending for her and her sister. He wished she’d had an uncomplicated life, without sorrow or tragedy.
Those things were for soldiers like him.
It was a ridiculous, unrealistic way to think, but there it was. He’d become a soldier for a lot of reasons, but one of them was because he wanted to make a difference. He liked to protect people. And that instinct was kicking up harder than usual with Kensie.
Apparently Rebel felt the same way, because even though she wasn’t supposed to, she swiveled on her butt and dropped her head into Kensie’s lap. Kensie looked surprised for a second, then laughed and started petting his dog again.
If he wasn’t careful, Rebel was going to want to follow Kensie back to Chicago. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to want to do the same thing.
Colter pushed out the crazy thought and tried to distract Kensie. After they’d talked to the restaurant owner, she’d wanted to drive immediately out to Derrick’s house. But his question had gotten her upset and he didn’t want her going to Derrick’s that way. The guy was prickly on his best day. He’d be a huge pain if Kensie was confrontational. Especially since Colter knew he was likely to become confrontational if Derrick didn’t cooperate. If they were going to get answers out of the guy, they needed Kensie’s soft touch.
So, he’d ordered the restaurant’s famous wild berry cobbler and pushed the plate toward her as soon as it arrived. She’d only picked at it initially, but the longer they’d sat, the bigger her bites had gotten. The place was famous for its cobbler for a reason.
“Tell me about your sister. What was she like?” Colter asked now, hoping to fill her mind with good memories she could draw on to win over Derrick if needed.
Kensie paused, a bite of cobbler halfway to her mouth. A sad smile tugged her lips. “She was goofy and fun. Even at five, we were already predicting she’d be homecoming queen or class president when she got older. Probably both. She was always the center of attention, always in the middle of the party. It was funny, because both me and Flynn—who’s halfway between me and Alanna in age—were shy and serious. Bookish, my mom called us.”
Colter smiled, because that wasn’t how he saw Kensie at all. Maybe she’d outgrown her shyness or maybe she had an inaccurate perception of herself as a child, but she drew people to her with ease. He couldn’t picture her ever being on the sidelines.
“Before Alanna went missing, I was teaching her to play violin.” Kensie’s smile turned wistful. “She’d seen me play and she wanted to be just like me.”
“You were close?”
“Yeah. We were eight years apart, but we always had a special bond. Whenever I play now, I think of Alanna.”
“You still play?”
“I’m a violinist in an orchestra back home. That’s my job.” Suddenly seeming to realize she’d been holding a forkful of cobbler, Kensie stuffed it into her mouth.
She played at such a high level that she did it for a living? He pictured her with a violin in her hand, bow flying across the strings, her eyes intense with concentration. “I’d love to hear you play.”
Kensie’s lips tipped upward, but there was still sadness in her eyes. She swallowed and told him, “I don’t have my violin.”
Of course not. It was back at home, with the rest of her family. A family who was probably waiting anxiously for Kensie to return—and hopefully bring with her the sister they hadn’t seen in fourteen years.
It was a huge responsibility to carry alone.
He wanted to promise her they’d find Alanna. That he’d help her carry that load. But he knew it was an empty promise, so he didn’t say it. Sure, he’d do what he could to give her access to the locals, to get her safely wherever she needed to go. But that was as much as he could do, and he knew it was nothing compared to what she needed. Compared to what she deserved.
“Why don’t you have a boyfriend or a husband up here with you?”
The question was rude, and he regretted it the instant it came out of his mouth. Even Rebel lifted her head from Kensie’s lap to eye him over the table, as if she disapproved.
“Sorry. None of my business,” he said before she could answer.
“No boyfriend or husband. It’s hard to...”
She trailed off, and it took him a minute to catch up and wonder what was hard about it, because he was too busy being pleased she wasn’t attached. Which was selfish, because he had no claim on her and never would.
“What about you?”
“Why aren’t I married?” The words popped out of his mouth full of surprise—both that she’d ask and that she didn’t already know. He was broken.
“No,” she said quickly, a flush rushing up her cheeks. “What do you do for a living?”
Half-relieved he didn’t have to wade into that minefield and half-disappointed that she wasn’t interested, Colter shrugged. “Since I left the military, I’ve been writing pieces for newspapers and magazines.”
It was part-time work he sometimes loved and sometimes hated. He loved being able to share his perspective, to give civilians a more accurate look into how the military worked. But it reminded him that he wasn’t where he belonged, in the middle of the action. It reminded him that he’d never be there again.
“The job is permanent?” she asked, probably picking up on his hesitation.
It was funny that he’d ended up writing, since his parents had always pushed him toward a career i
n communications. But it wasn’t his passion, just a way to pay the bills. “Nah.”
“So, what’s next?”
He frowned, his instinct not to answer. But she’d been honest with him, so it was only fair he do the same. “I don’t know.”
Most of his life, he’d had a goal. He’d known from an early age he wanted to join the military, fascinated by stories from his grandfather, who’d lived in Poland during World War Two. He’d tried to help people escape, gotten caught and been thrown into the gulag in Siberia for his efforts.
His grandfather hadn’t fought in the war. But he’d seen it firsthand and the injustices he’d described had made Colter long to change the world. It was a child’s wish, but it had matured into a man’s desire to make some kind of difference for people who couldn’t do it for themselves.
When he’d enlisted right out of high school, his parents had been shocked. They’d been so sure he’d grow out of what they considered a childish dream. But to him, it was all he’d ever wanted. Being a man without a mission was an uncomfortable feeling.
But even more so was this new mission he found himself on, helping Kensie. Because the more she pulled him back into the world, the more he realized he was going to have to figure it out. He couldn’t go back to the military. That part of his life was over, whether he wanted it to be or not.
He’d never again be Staff Sergeant Hayes. Now he was simply Colter. What exactly that meant, he wasn’t sure. Once he’d helped her, he needed to move on and figure out what was next for him.
It was easier said than done. Desparre wasn’t exactly teeming with opportunities for a guy who had no experience doing anything except being a soldier.
“Well, what about your family?” Kensie asked.
“What about them?”
“What do they think you should do next?”
“I have no idea. Move back home, probably.” He hadn’t asked and his parents hadn’t suggested anything. He’d never thought about it before, but it was strange. They’d tried so hard to convince him not to join up. Once he’d come home damaged, they’d done their best to get him to return to the sleepy Idaho town where he was born. When he’d come here, instead, it was as if they’d finally given up trying.
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