Chief Griffith had no idea he wasn’t actually Tate Emory, security guard from the Midwest who’d moved to Desparre for a change of pace and a chance to fulfill a lifelong dream of becoming an officer. Tate had no idea what the new chief would do if he found out.
As he parked his SUV outside the police station, ready to spend some time in downtown after a morning patrolling the outskirts, Tate vowed not to be so careless again. He wasn’t sure what about Sabrina Jones made him so unguarded, but he needed to be especially vigilant around her. Just because she was being honest about her past didn’t mean he could do the same.
As if thinking about her had made her appear, Tate spotted Sabrina walking out of the grocery store. She had one small bag in her hand and was glancing around anxiously.
“Come on, Sitka.” He hopped out of the vehicle and put on her leash. “Let’s go say hello.”
Woof!
His dog’s enthusiastic reply caught Sabrina’s attention. As soon as she met his gaze, her shoulders relaxed, and she smiled. It was a real smile, not the nervous, hesitant kind she’d given him over the past few months. A smile born of the belief that she knew him, that she could trust him.
It made guilt bubble up, and Tate tried to suppress it. She might not really know him, but she could trust him.
He headed toward her, and she met him halfway, immediately bending to pet Sitka. “How has your day been?” She peered up at him from where she’d crouched down. “Did Sitka help you write a lot of speeding tickets today?”
He grinned back at her. “Nah. She was in a good mood. She just handed out warnings.”
Woof! Sitka’s tail thumped, and she glanced back and forth between them, as if she knew she was the subject of conversation.
“What about you? How are you doing?”
When Sabrina stood again, she was smiling, too, looking far less worried than when he’d spotted her. “I’m just trying to live my life like normal.” She shrugged. “Well, as normal as it gets these days.” She lowered her voice, glancing around again, even though the closest person was across the street. “I don’t suppose you’ve made any progress at figuring out who’s doing this?”
Tate shook his head, expecting disappointment, but she didn’t seem surprised. After two years of running, her expectations were probably pretty low. “Just keep being careful. The chief and I talked through strategy yesterday after you left the station. I know you’re worried about us contacting New York, but we’d like to dig into your history to see if fresh eyes make anything pop.”
She immediately tensed. “My cousin’s wife works at the station. You contact them and she’ll find out and it will get back to my mom and my brother. Then they’ll come here. And after what happened before...”
Tate held up his hands, understanding her fear for her family. “Okay. Most likely, we’ll find him by looking at people here. So, if anything seems unusual or anyone gives you a weird feeling, let us know. There’s nothing too small for us to check out.”
She gave him another smile, but this one was shaky. “Thanks.”
“Why don’t you drop your groceries in your car and walk with me and Sitka? We were going to the park, to let some more people meet her.”
“Okay.”
There was happiness in her voice, and as he walked with her to her rusted old truck, he tried not to let it ignite a similar thrill in him. She was a citizen who needed his help. Yes, he’d been considering asking her out for months—something he hadn’t done any of since he’d gone into hiding himself—but things had changed. He couldn’t be distracted by her, not when he needed to be thinking about her safety.
Still, he couldn’t keep his gaze from lingering on the way the sunshine created golden highlights in her hair, the way it emphasized the smoothness of her ivory skin. Couldn’t keep his mind from traveling down an imaginary road where she wasn’t living in fear and he didn’t have to keep his real identity a secret.
She dropped off the groceries, and then they headed toward the park, Sitka tugging slightly on the leash and giving him glances as if to ask Why am I wearing this? In that moment, it felt like he was off duty. It felt like he was just enjoying the company of a woman he liked and a dog who’d given him family here.
From across the street, Yura Begay gave him a nod. The gruff former Marine and lifelong Alaskan resident owned a check-cashing place on the outskirts of Desparre. He was known to be rude, but ever since Tate had gotten Sitka, he’d been warming up. Tate hoped it was a sign of how the rest of the town would respond.
It was the middle of the day, and the sun felt fantastic after the brutal winter, but it had been raining half an hour ago, so there were only a handful of people besides Yura downtown. Still, there were a group of kids in the park, parents chatting on the benches nearby. Hopefully it would give Sitka a chance to charm some more people and Sabrina a chance to relax. One thing he could be relatively confident in: if her stalker had tracked her across the country over the past two years, he was pretty unlikely to be chasing her with a wife and kid in tow.
The closer they got to the park, the slower Sabrina’s steps became.
“Do you know anyone here?” Maybe he could introduce her to some of them while he was introducing them to Sitka.
She shrugged. “Some. I’ve been trying to talk to people more, but it feels insincere when all the typical questions you ask someone you’ve just met are things I have to lie about.”
The same guilt filled him, the desire to share his secret with her, to trust someone enough to be truly honest. But it was a selfish wish, one that could put her in danger. So, he kept quiet and just continued walking.
As they reached the park, Sitka whined, tugging on her leash like she wanted to cross the street.
Tate frowned, pulling her back as he glanced around, trying to figure out what had caught her attention. He didn’t see anything. Then again, despite two months of intense training, Sitka was still a year-old puppy. And walking with Sabrina probably felt more like off duty to Sitka, as well.
“Come on, Sitka. You’ll like talking to the kids.”
She glanced at him, whined and tugged once more, then gave in.
As he stepped onto the grass, a shout from the far side of the park commanded his attention.
“He’s going to fall! Help! Help!”
The group of parents who’d been talking and laughing near the benches jumped up as one and raced toward the gazebo, where a boy of about seven had somehow managed to get on the roof. Now he was dangling off it.
“Stay here,” he told Sitka. Because she’d been acting unusual, he looped her leash quickly around the edge of the bench, knotting it to keep her in place.
Then he raced toward the gazebo, passing the group of parents just as the kid’s grip slipped and he slid farther, hanging only by fingertips now.
Pushing his strides as hard as he could, Tate suddenly felt like he was back in Boston, chasing a suspect down a city street. But the speed he had now, after two months of chasing Sitka around practice obstacles and trails, made his Boston days seem slow.
He reached the gazebo just as the boy lost his grip with a pained cry.
Skidding to a stop underneath him, Tate braced himself as he threw his arms out.
The boy landed awkwardly, smacking Tate in the face and sliding half out of his grasp. But Tate broke his fall and was able to set him on his feet without injury.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” said a man who had to be the boy’s father.
The boy had been fairly calm but burst into tears as his dad scooped him up.
Tate’s heart rate slowed as the other parents reached them, clapping him on the back and hugging their own kids even as they admonished them not to climb the gazebo.
He smiled and accepted the accolades. He was turning back toward Sabrina and Sitka when Sabrina’s shocked scream burst throu
gh the relieved voices. Sitka’s panicked yelp followed.
A big green truck was rolling backward and at a slight angle down Main Street, rapidly picking up speed. It was headed right for Sitka.
His dog was straining against her leash, but he’d tethered her too well to the bench.
Tate started running again, pushing himself as hard as he could, but he was too far away. He’d never be able to get back to her in time, let alone unhook her.
Dread, guilt and anger slammed through him like a punch to the chest, then doubled as Sabrina raced in front of the truck to help his dog. He was about to lose them both. And there was nothing he could do to stop it.
Chapter Five
Panic intensified as Tate ran faster, his frantic strides still not good enough. The truck was speeding up, the incline working against him.
Sabrina dropped into an awkward squat and worked at the leash, struggling with it as Sitka whined and pulled, probably yanking the knot even tighter.
The truck hit the grass, no difference in height from the unpaved street to slow it, and Tate’s whole body jerked in response, not wanting to see Sabrina get hit. Not wanting to see Sitka get hit.
Then suddenly Sabrina shifted, unhooking the leash from Sitka’s collar instead.
Sitka scampered backward, away from the oncoming vehicle.
Sabrina twisted, throwing herself to the side. She landed hard on the grass as the truck zoomed past, plowing into the bench.
The metal bench crumpled under the truck’s bumper, screeching enough to raise goose bumps on Tate’s arms. As the bench collapsed and split, the truck kept going, then got snagged on the twisted pieces of metal. The truck made a sputtering sound, and then the engine cut out.
“You okay?” Tate panted as he slid to a stop beside Sabrina, his gaze searching for Sitka, too.
Behind him came the gasps and shouts of worry from the group of parents and kids, but Tate ignored them as he dropped to his knees next to Sabrina.
She rolled over and pushed up on her elbows, her arms shaking. There were grass stains streaking the front of her T-shirt and dirt on her face. “Did Sitka get out of the way?”
Woof!
His dog came running around the back of the truck. She didn’t stop until she’d bumped him, knocking him off his knees and onto his butt.
“I’m sorry about the leash,” he told her, burying his head in her fur for a moment, relief relaxing the tightness in his chest as he saw that she hadn’t been hurt.
Then he lifted his gaze to the truck, stalled and silent. When he’d seen it moving toward Sitka, it had appeared empty. As if someone had forgotten to put on their parking brake. But was it really that simple?
Dread built up again. The truck hadn’t been aimed at Sabrina. But it had been close enough to her. Could her stalker have sent it down the street?
From what he knew about stalkers, it seemed unlikely. After two years of chasing her, why would he try to kill her in such an impersonal way? Usually, when stalkers got violent, they did it up close, with a gun or a knife.
Still, he swept his gaze over the area where the truck had come from. No one was there.
Pushing himself to his feet, Tate scanned the rest of the park. All he saw were the parents and kids, looking horrified.
Sitka pivoted away from him, moving to Sabrina, and gave her a sloppy kiss across the side of her face.
Sabrina laughed, petting her. “You’re welcome.”
Tate held out a hand for Sabrina. “Are you okay? Do you want to have a doctor look at you?”
She put her hand in his. It was a little shaky, but there was a power in her grip as she helped him pull her up.
“No doctor. I’m fine, just a little freaked out.” She glanced up Main Street, where the truck had come from. “What happened? Do you think this was an accident? Or...”
Reluctantly, Tate let go of her hand as the rest of the people in the park surrounded them.
“What happened?” The dad of the kid who’d fallen from the gazebo put a hand on Sabrina’s shoulder, looking worried as he clutched the boy with his other hand.
A woman bouncing a crying baby leaned closer to Sabrina, too. “Are you okay?”
“Look at the bench!” someone else exclaimed.
“Who would be so careless?”
The cacophony of voices faded into the background as Tate stepped closer to the vehicle and peered through the window. The truck was set right between Reverse and Park, the key fob in the center console. A freak accident? He’d seen it before with these old trucks, where the owner thought it was in Park, but it was actually partway to Reverse. When he glanced up Main Street, he saw no one. No panicked owner racing for the park, horrified and ashamed. But maybe they’d walked away and the truck hadn’t rolled backward immediately?
Still, he couldn’t take any chances, especially not when Sabrina had been nearby, when they knew her stalker was here. He stepped farther away from the crowd and pulled out his radio. Speaking quietly, he said, “A truck just plowed into a bench in the park. No one was inside the vehicle, but Sabrina Jones almost got hit.” Stepping behind the truck, he read off the license-plate number, dreading the potential news that it was a rental, maybe something that would come back to a fake name.
There was surprise in Officer Nate Dreymond’s voice as he replied a minute later. “That vehicle belongs to Talise Poitra.”
The seventy-year-old owner of the grocery store. She’d been injured pretty severely in the bombing, even been briefly in a coma. Maybe she wasn’t back to a hundred percent yet.
Tate relaxed slightly as he glanced at Sabrina, who was hunched inward as she nodded and assured the townspeople that she wasn’t hurt. Beside her, Sitka’s tail was wagging as everyone took turns petting her.
“I’ll walk over to the store and talk to her,” Nate said. “I’ll radio you once I have an update.”
“Thanks.” Tucking the radio back into his duty belt, Tate slipped through the crowd up to Sabrina and Sitka. “Why don’t you come with me to the station, where you can clean up, and we’ll take a statement?”
She nodded, looking grateful for the excuse to move away from the crowd.
“What happened?” Maria Peterson asked, clutching her three-year-old daughter tightly. A few months ago, when the park had been bombed, her husband had been injured.
“Probably just an accident,” Tate said. “But we’re going to investigate and make sure. Did anyone notice someone by the truck before it started moving?”
The group shook their heads and shrugged, glancing at each other, but Tate wasn’t surprised. They’d all been too focused on the kid on the gazebo roof.
If this hadn’t been an accident, someone had waited for the perfect moment.
Tate led Sabrina back toward the police station. His gaze swept the area as they walked, looking for anyone who seemed out of place, who seemed too interested in Sabrina. But besides a blonde woman facing away from him as she took pictures of the stalled truck and ruined bench, all he saw was Yura Begay.
The ex-Marine called out, “Everyone all right?”
“Yeah. Just a runaway truck,” Tate replied.
“You think that’s all it was?” Sabrina asked.
When he glanced at her, she was biting down on her lip, her brows furrowed. Guilt was all over her face as she ran her hand down Sitka’s back.
“I hope so. But no matter what, this isn’t your fault. I’m the one who tied Sitka to the bench.”
“Hey, Tate?” Nate’s voice crackled over the radio. “I’ve got an update.”
“Go,” Tate replied, glancing at Sabrina.
“Talise said she had her keys in her purse and that she’d put the parking brake on. She parked up past the park because she wanted the exercise. Said she’s still trying to get back up to speed after the bombing.”
&nbs
p; “Is she sure about the keys?” Tate asked. “Because there was a key fob in the truck.”
“I asked her to check. When she went to grab her purse from behind the counter to show me, it was open and her fob was missing. She thinks someone grabbed it sometime in the past hour.”
Tate felt his jaw tensing as Sabrina went pale. But was Talise right about someone taking her keys? Or had she just forgotten them in her truck? “She have any idea who?”
“No. There are no cameras in her store. She says she was in the back for a while, dealing with inventory. Normally, she brings her purse with her back there, but this time she forgot. She said the bell over the door rang a few times, but she figured people would call out if they needed her to ring them up. No one did, and it was empty when she came back up front. She said it could have been anyone. But obviously if she’s right, this person knew which vehicle belonged to Talise.”
“Thanks,” Tate said.
“It was my stalker.” Sabrina’s voice was barely above a whisper. “He was trying to kill Sitka.”
* * *
HER STALKER HADN’T been trying to kill her. Not this time.
No, Sabrina felt it in her gut. If he wanted to kill her, he’d do it up close, and she’d know exactly who he was before she died. He hadn’t been after her today.
It was worse than that. He’d been trying to kill Sitka. Maybe because he’d seen Sitka trying to track him from her house. Or maybe because she’d been walking with Tate, because the stalker had seen her invite Tate into her home yesterday.
She hadn’t even kissed Tate. She hadn’t gone on a real date with him. But somehow, her stalker had known she wanted to.
He was punishing her for it by sending a message:
I’m watching. I can get to you—or someone you care about—anytime I want. Just like Dylan.
Shivering as she yanked the curtains closed on her back windows, shutting out the view of the sun sinking below the trees, Sabrina tried to stay calm. It had been hours since one of the officers had driven her home, then done a walk-through of her house before leaving.
K-9 Hideout Page 4
