His dad quickly agreed and hung up.
“What are you planning?” Kara whispered.
“Do you trust me?”
Her throat worked up and down and, for an agonizingly long moment, he feared she might say no. Finally she nodded.
He squeezed her hand. “Hang on a little longer and we’ll get you to someplace more comfortable.” He phoned his uncle James and quickly arranged to borrow his cabin in the foothills and his old pickup to get them there. “If Dad beats us to your place, can you help him load everything into the truck? Make sure it’s gassed up.”
“Sure thing. What’s going on?” Uncle James asked.
“I’ll have to fill you in later. I appreciate this.” Jake clicked off before Uncle James could press for more answers.
The female deputy met his gaze in the rearview mirror. “Where to?”
His wariness at revealing even an interim location to this virtual stranger reared its ugly head once more. He scrubbed a hand over his jaw. The reality was she could access his DMV records, and thereby his home address, in all of thirty seconds, and probably those of every relative within a thirty-mile radius—just like the sniper if he had the right connections. Jake spit out the address and made a mental note to borrow his uncle’s rifle, too.
* * *
Pain dragged Kara from her dreams. She rolled onto her side and frowned at the empty chair next to her bed. Had it been a dream? For a few blissful moments, Jake had been looking at her the same way he had after she was shot—with his heart in his eyes. Back at the park, his relief that she was alive had quickly transplanted the fear and guilt swirling in his smoky blue eyes, but not the heart-stirring vulnerability. No man had ever cared what happened to her so much that he’d look as if he’d shatter if she died.
She trailed her thumb over her lip, remembering the fire his touch had ignited in her and the scarcely banked heat in his gaze as he came so close to kissing her. She curled the blankets in her arms and balled them against the ache in her chest. It’d been the adrenaline, the life-or-death urgency of the moment. That was all. He couldn’t care for her. Not when she’d done nothing but endanger his family. Tommy’s disappointment after they’d arrived at the cabin when he’d learned he couldn’t play outside had been bad enough, but the fright in his eyes when his grandfather and Jake had loaded their rifles had nearly undone her.
Okay, had totally undone her.
Mrs. Steele must’ve slipped a sedative in with the pain pills she’d given her, because somewhere in the middle of her begging Jake to just drive her to the marshal’s office and be rid of her, she’d grown too dopey to fight.
“Now that I’m rested, I won’t take no for an answer,” she said to the empty room.
Something rustled at the side of her bed, and an instant later Rusty plopped his curly-haired head on her sheets and gazed at her with honey-brown eyes that seemed to say, “But I don’t want you to leave.”
She ruffled his fur. “I’m going to miss you, too, boy.” She gingerly eased off the bed to minimize the jar to her aching back, then edged aside the corner of the curtains in the room’s lone window. Darkness blanketed the forest in a shadowy shroud. How long had she been asleep?
She squinted at the night table, the top of the bureau, the walls, but couldn’t find a clock, at least not one that she could see in what little light the night table lamp emitted.
Ambling toward the bureau, she finger-combed her hair. Rusty stayed glued to her side. She chuckled. “Let me guess. Jake charged you with making sure I didn’t escape.” She stopped in front of the bureau and, hiking up the bottom of her top, twisted to see her back in the mirror. She winced at the movement as much as at the sight. Rusty whined. How had one tiny little bullet given her a bruise the size of a dinner plate?
The door creaked open. “Oh, good, you are up. I thought I heard—” Jake’s cousin’s gaze met Kara’s in the mirror, then dropped to her exposed midriff. “I’m sorry. I’ll—”
“No, that’s okay. Come in, please. Sherri, right? The paramedic?” Kara shoved down her top before Sherri backed out of the room with that delicious-smelling tray of food.
“That’s right.” Sherri hitched up her elbow and tipped on the light switch as she kicked the door closed behind her. “I thought you might be hungry.”
“Famished, but I can come out to the table to eat.”
The cabin shook with the slam of a door.
“Um.” Sherri’s gaze flicked to Kara’s closed door. “It’s probably better that you stay in here for a bit.”
Raised voices sounded from the other room.
“What’s going on?”
Sherri set the tray on the bureau. “Sam’s here.”
Kara’s pulse quickened. “With the marshal?”
“I’m not leaving her,” Jake’s angry voice boomed through the door.
Sherri’s lips pressed into a flat line, apology in her eyes. “Sam sent Tommy and his folks home,” she whispered.
“Without the dog?” Her heart deflated. “Oh.” It wasn’t safe for the dog to be seen, let alone associated with his family.
“Sam brought me here, because he thought you might appreciate some female company until—”
“You. Have. No. Choice.” Sam loudly enunciated each word as if Jake were a simpleton. “What were you thinking bringing her here?”
“Keeping her safe,” Jake growled. “What do you think I was thinking?”
Kara cringed at Jake’s hostile tone, hating that she was the cause of him and his brother being at odds.
“Your plan obviously didn’t work,” Jake continued. “How did that shooter find her at the park? Huh?”
“We think he tracked the P.I. through his phone’s GPS.” Sam’s voice grew quieter, and Kara had to strain to make out his words.
Ignoring Sherri’s urging to sit down and eat, Kara opened the door a crack and peeked out.
Sam and Jake alone occupied the room, their foul moods a stark contrast to the homey atmosphere of the cedar-scented log walls and crackling fire flanked by a circle of cozy-looking chairs.
Jake grabbed the cell phone Sam held. “And what makes you think he won’t do the same with your phone? Or with that marshal’s who you send up here? And how’d a P.I. from Boston find her in the first place?”
“His brother is a software geek. He’s had face-recognition software trolling news and social media sites for Nicole look-alikes for the past three months. Within an hour of the hit on Hadyn’s online edition of their newspaper, the P.I. was booked on a red-eye from Boston.”
“Right. That sounds about as believable as a TV cop show. Chances are he’s been working with the bad guys all along and his story was a cover to cajole her into talking so they could figure out how much of a threat she really is.”
“Why?” Sam snatched back his phone and shoved it into his pocket. “Forty-eight hours ago her assailant was willing to burn her to death. You think he suddenly got a conscience?”
An icy chill slithered through Kara’s body and a whimper slipped past her lips.
Jake’s attention snapped in her direction. He strode toward her and helped her to the sofa. “You shouldn’t be up. You need to rest.”
Ignoring the flare of pain at the movement, she inhaled deeply to add backbone to her response. “What I need is to know what’s going on. Is that P.I. going to survive? Will—” She hiccupped on a swell of emotion at the thought that, after all this, those poor parents might still not get their son back. She swallowed hard. “Will someone follow up on the information I gave him?”
“Yes,” Sam reassured. “The FBI already is. And—” he threw a glare at Jake “—just so you know, the guy’s story was legit.”
She nodded, relieved to hear that, at least. “Do you think it will make a difference? What I remembe
red about that man’s car, I mean.”
“Absolutely.” Sam pulled up a chair across from her. “Hundreds of tips came in following the initial story three months ago, and hundreds more since this week’s arrests. The FBI is narrowing in on any that might point to the kidnapped child, particularly those from Pennsylvania and Delaware, the closest states to Boston that don’t require front license plates. Between the make of the car and the topaz—November—birthstone on the driver’s ring, they can quickly look at which potential matches have also brought home a child in the past three months.”
Kara’s breath seeped from her lungs. Sam made it sound so easy. But as Jake said, those kinds of searches didn’t have nearly the success rates depicted on TV. “And the birth parents will get their child back?”
“Yes. The adoption wasn’t legal and, considering where the adoptive parents picked up the child, there was no way they didn’t know it.”
“So what happens to me now?”
Sam’s jaw ground back and forth, his gaze flicking to Jake’s. “We—” His cell phone rang. Glancing at the screen, he said, “Excuse me, I need to take this.”
Kara looked to Jake. “Is a marshal coming for me?”
He clasped her hand, twining his fingers between hers. “Yes, but not tonight.”
“I’m glad.” She smiled up at him. Like a kid to candy, her gaze shifted to his lips and heat rose to her cheeks. She ducked her head. “It’s going to be hard to say goodbye to you and your family. You’ve all been so kind, made me feel...” She gulped down the admissions that seemed to spill too easily from her lips when Jake was around.
His thumb traced tiny circles over the back of her hand. “Made you feel what?” he whispered.
“When will the marshal come?” she blurted, desperately needing to change the topic before she read more into his tummy-rippling touch than he intended. Never mind how more at home she’d felt in his parents’ home than she’d ever felt in her own. They were obviously just very caring people. Jake couldn’t possibly have feelings for her. He scarcely knew her.
And she scarcely knew him.
Jake glanced at his brother, still on the phone. “I’m not sure when the marshal will get here. But you know, one day soon, they’re going to catch this guy and you’ll be free to live wherever you want. Do you think you might...?”
Sherri plodded into the room carrying the tray of food Kara had yet to touch and set it on the coffee table in front of her. “I thought you might want the food before it gets cold. Would you like tea with it?”
Kara slipped her hand from Jake’s. “Sure.”
“Can you make coffee, too?” Jake asked, plowing his freed hand through his hair. His gaze shifted to the darkness beyond the snug little cabin. His Adam’s apple bobbed and he moistened his lips, his brow furrowing as if some inner war waged within him.
Rusty whimpered behind the closed bedroom door and scratched.
Sherri freed him and he promptly trotted over to Kara and sprawled at her feet.
While Sherri rummaged through the rugged pine cupboards in the kitchen area, Kara ruffled Rusty’s ears. Gathering her courage, she whispered, “I’d like to come back.”
Something bright jumped in Jake’s eyes. “You would?”
“I would. As a teacher, I get summers off. So I could come for a long visit if your parents wouldn’t mind. Or I could rent—”
The light in his eyes dimmed, as if—dare she think?—he might’ve been hoping for something more permanent.
Kara gave her head a mental shake. It was just the adrenaline-charged emotions. He still had his deceased wife’s photo pinned to his truck’s dash. If he hadn’t felt compelled to protect her, he likely never would’ve given her a second look. Helping her was more about making up for his inability to save his wife. He’d practically said as much, more than once.
Never mind that, thanks to her, his son couldn’t even take his beloved dog home.
Sam pocketed his phone, and motioned to Sherri. “Could you make an extra cup for me, too?” He reclaimed his seat across from Kara. “That was the marshal’s office. Since I’ve assured them that you’re safe here for the time being, they’d like to wait until Monday to relocate you. There are some new developments with the adoption agency case that could soon give them a bargaining chip to secure a name on the shooter. If all goes the way they hope, you may be free to return to Boston very soon.”
As if swept up on an eagle’s wings, her spirit soared. “Really?”
Sam smiled. “It’s possible.”
Jake squeezed her hand. “That’s great news!”
Sherri joined them, carrying a tray of steaming mugs. “What’s great news?”
Kara’s heart jolted. She’d gotten so used to Jake and Sam knowing who she really was that she’d forgotten everyone else was still in the dark...and if things didn’t transpire as the marshal hoped, they needed to be kept in the dark.
“The police have a lead on the shooter,” Jake quickly improvised.
“Oh, that is good news.” Sherri reclined in a chair and sipped her coffee. “An unsolved murder would hurt the town’s—”
Kara choked on her tea, sputtered half of it out. “Murder?”
“Uh.” Sherri’s penitent gaze shot from Jake to Sam.
Kara slammed her mug on the table, scarcely registering the hot liquid that swelled over the brim. It didn’t sting half as much as the zip-your-mouth glare Sam leveled at Sherri or the shuttered look in Jake’s eyes. “What aren’t you telling me?”
TWELVE
Haunted by the memory of Kara’s anguish when they’d told her the P.I. hadn’t survived, Jake punched his pillow then flopped onto his back on the too-short sofa and stared at the overhead timbers in the early-morning light. Sighing heavily, he folded his arms over his chest, wishing they had offered more comfort as he’d held Kara in her grief. Everything in him wanted to take away her pain. He hated that she blamed herself when she’d risked her life to try to help recover that little boy.
Jake clenched his fist against his pounding heart. If anyone were to blame, it should be him. From the beginning, he’d known in his gut that meeting with the P.I. was a bad idea. He should’ve tried harder to stop her.
Sam sauntered out of the end bedroom—the one Jake had deliberately drawn the short straw to avoid claiming. He’d figured that parked on the lumpy couch, at least he’d hear if Kara needed him in the night, even if he did nod off. Not that he had. The thought of her alone, in the dark, at the mercy of the day’s events replaying in her dreams, had kept him awake all night.
“Shouldn’t you be getting ready for work?” Sam asked.
“I already told you that I’m not leaving her.” He’d made that mistake with April, acquiesced to assurances that everything would be fine. He wouldn’t make that mistake again. He’d already made enough of them.
“And I told you that you’re not doing her any favors by hanging around.” Sam filled the coffeemaker and flipped it on. “If the shooter suspects a connection between you and Kara, he could be watching for you. The sooner he sees you returning to your regular routine, the more convinced he’ll be that Kara’s already been relocated.”
Jake shoved off the sofa. “If you thought that, what on earth were you doing letting Mom and Dad take Tommy home?”
Sam poked at the embers in the woodstove, stirring them into flames as readily as he’d provoked Jake. “Because he hasn’t seen them. You, on the other hand, had your face plastered across the newspaper with hers. So, if by chance, he did focus on you through his rifle scope, your presence might stoke his curiosity enough to watch for you.”
“And risk him following me back here? Forget it.” Jake stalked to the cabin phone and dialed the station’s number to call in sick.
The chief was surprisingly empathetic. “Yeah,
I’m sorry, man. Davis told me you had befriended her.”
Jake blinked. “Pardon me?”
“The woman you rescued from the fire a few days ago. It was all over the news.”
Jake broke into a sweat, slumped into the nearest chair. “What—” he swallowed the lump that had lodged in his throat “—was all over the news?”
“The shooting. Her death,” he said, sounding confused by the question.
Jake felt the blood drain from his face. “Uh, right, of course.” He blew out a breath. “I’m sorry. Not thinking straight. I didn’t sleep last night.”
“I understand. Hits too close to home with—” The chief sputtered before bringing up April’s death, but the pain shot through Jake’s chest as sharp as ever. “Well, you know. Take all the time you need. Davis volunteered to follow up on the investigation into last night’s arson.”
Jake ramrodded to attention. “There was another arson?”
“Yeah, our guy’s picking up his pace. But at least there weren’t any victims this time. It was an old barn out on Perry Road with nothing but rusted-out farm implements and musty hay inside.”
“Any familiar faces in the gawkers?” The image of the bulbous-nosed man he’d seen watching Kara’s home burn rose to mind.
“We took photos this time, like you suggested. I can email them to you if you want to take a look.”
“That’d be great. Thanks.” Jake turned on Sam the instant the chief hung up. “You told the media she died? And you’re feeding me some cockamamie story about why I should go back to work!”
“Keep your voice down,” Sam hissed. “It was the marshal’s idea. He doubted the sniper would believe the story, but figured he’d conclude that they must’ve whisked her out of town or the story wouldn’t fly. They’re hoping it’ll buy them an extra day to track down their leads and set up a new identity for her.
Jake unclenched his grip on the phone. “So here is the safest place for her to be.”
Sam shrugged. “For now.”
“Good.” Jake stalked to the coffeepot, a plan forming in his mind to make the most of the time they had. Tomorrow she’d be on her way to who knows where and he’d be with his son at the Seattle Children’s Museum for his long-anticipated first school field trip. And eventually, if she didn’t return, he’d manage to forget the electricity that had charged through his chest at her touch. The jolt that had revived a part of his heart that hadn’t beat for five long years.
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