It was stupid. There was little to no chance that Wes would be awake at this insane hour, much less wanting to talk to her, and the radio wasn’t the place for their chats anyway. They’d just annoy the dispatcher again. Kit knew all of those things, yet she still couldn’t sleep, her attention focused on the silent radio on her nightstand, even as she told herself she wasn’t waiting for Wes to call out her unit number. She’d been like that for hours, jumping at every occasional transmission and random beep, but Wes hadn’t said a word.
“Time to sleep,” she told herself for the fiftieth time. The sound of her voice must’ve woken up Justice, because his snores stopped briefly before starting up again. It was a good thing she had the next day off work, since she was going to get about fifteen minutes of sleep if the rest of the night continued as the first half had.
“Wes to Kit on eighteen.”
Despite the fact that she’d been secretly hoping for it, the sound of Wes’s voice still surprised her. Her arm flailed out as she tried to grab the radio and sit up at the same time, and she knocked it off the nightstand. Cursing, she grabbed it off the floor and hoped that the fall hadn’t damaged it. Everything looked intact, so she turned the channel to eighteen and tentatively pushed the mic button.
“Hey, Wes.” She tried to make her voice sound casual, but her words came out annoyingly breathy. “Can’t sleep again?”
“I haven’t tried yet.”
With a frown, Kit checked the time, noting that it was close to two in the morning. He was definitely a night owl, then. “Working on an interesting project?” Although she didn’t know for sure, he seemed like someone who’d always have something fascinating in the works. After all, she’d seen his tower room and all the gadgets inside.
He paused. “That’s one way to put it.”
Okay. That’s vague. Kit’s ever-present curiosity flared to life. Before she could ask more about his mysterious project, though, she remembered what had happened the night before. “We should probably go before the dispatcher yells at us again.”
“It’s fine.” Wes didn’t sound concerned. Then again, he wouldn’t be the one who’d have to work with a dispatcher he’d pissed off. An angry dispatcher could make a cop’s life miserable. “Geoff’s working tonight. He consistently naps between one and four thirty.”
That seemed dangerous. “What if there’s a call?”
“The phone wakes him up, and everyone on night shift knows to speak loudly if they need to call in.”
Kit filed away that new piece of town information. It stung a bit that even Wes, with his hermit-like tendencies, was more in the know than she was. “No wonder you’re talking so softly.”
“Not softly enough, bitches,” said a crabby male voice. “It’s two in the morning. Hush up and go to bed.”
“Sorry!” Kit hoped that she wouldn’t be put on nights for a while, at least until Geoff forgot that she’d been partially responsible for waking him up. “I’ll see you later, Wes.” Realizing that she had no idea when she would see him again, she wished that he had cell reception at the tower. He’d sent her the binocular photos of the town, so she had his email. It made her feel a little better to know that she had some way of communicating with him.
“Want to meet for breakfast tomorrow?” The words came out rushed, all jammed together like a verbal six-car pileup. It was strange to hear Wes sound flustered, when his usual way of speaking was so precise. When she finally figured out what he was trying to say, excitement shot through her. She hadn’t felt so thrilled by a crush asking her out since…ever. Get it together, she told herself. You’re an adult who just got asked out by another adult. You’re not in high school, and you weren’t just invited to the prom.
Her stern internal lecture didn’t help. She was still giddy.
She realized that Wes—and probably Geoff now, too—was waiting for an answer. “Oh! Um…sure. That’d be nice.” She made a face at the understatement. “What time? At the viner, I assume?” There didn’t seem to be any other place to go out to eat in town.
“Yes, if by viner, you mean the VFW that is now being used as a diner?”
“I do. Viner is a little less wordy. It saves time that we could use for…other things.” She closed her eyes at the unintended sexual innuendo. She knew that Geoff would be sharing every detail of the conversation with her new colleagues. Wonderful.
Wes must’ve pressed his mic too early, because his strangled cough came through clearly. “Um…yes. Is six okay? That’s when the diner opens.”
She cringed at the thought of getting up so early on her day off, especially since that was less than four hours of sleep away, but she figured she would be too excited to sleep in, anyway. “Six it is. See you tomorrow.”
Geoff cleared his throat. “Today.”
“See you later this morning,” Wes said, back to his normal, calm manner. He didn’t seem bothered that Geoff was eavesdropping openly as they planned their first date—if it was a date?
Placing the radio back on the nightstand, Kit flopped spread-eagle on the bed, grinning. It didn’t matter if it was a date or not. For the next—she glanced at the clock—three hours and fifty-three minutes, she was going to assume it was a date and enjoy every moment of anticipation leading up to it.
* * *
Her hair was just as beautiful down as he’d imagined it would be. Wes shifted his weight and fought the urge to fidget with the salt and pepper shakers. He didn’t know what to do with the excess energy that was coursing through him. He’d asked her on a date, and she’d agreed. Even though hours had passed and the date had begun, he still marveled at it. If it hadn’t been horribly early, he would’ve called Leila to let her know it had worked. His bravery had been rewarded.
Seeing her was worth enduring the heavy weight of the other diners’ stares and the buzz of their whispers. He normally did his best to avoid all the townspeople, but he’d ignore their avid interest for Kit’s sake. It was difficult, though. Even the sleepy waitress gave him a curious, wide-eyed look when she stopped at their table to fill their coffee cups and chat lightly with Kit. After she walked away, Kit said quietly, “That’s Jules. She and Theo are together.”
He nodded. “You’re good with people.” She reminded him of Leila that way. Both women always seemed to say the right thing, even when they didn’t know someone. “That must be useful when you’re working.”
She studied him with a slight smile that was kind, rather than mocking. “Thank you. I’m not always the most tactful, so I sometimes get myself into trouble that way. I do best with kids.”
“I can see why. You’re both very honest.” His interactions with children had been minimal as an adult, but he remembered the sometimes brutal honesty of his peers from when he was a kid.
She laughed a little, and the sound warmed his insides. “‘Honest’ is the nice way of saying that we don’t think before we speak sometimes.”
“That can be good, though.” He couldn’t look away from her. From the sheen of her black satin hair to the way her green sweater followed her slight curves, she was riveting. He felt like he could stare at her for days and not get bored. “My sister, Leila, always tells me the truth, even when it’s uncomfortable. That’s so much easier than trying to figure out how people really feel when their words don’t match their thoughts.”
“If everyone were that honest, my job would be a lot easier.”
“That’s true.” He watched as she picked up her coffee mug with both hands and took a sip. Her fingers were small and slender, with unpolished, short nails, and he marveled that she could use them to take down people twice her size. The mention of her job reminded him of something. “One of my neighbors stopped by the tower.”
“Rufus?” she asked, setting down her coffee. He saw a muscle twitch in her cheek and felt a remembered jolt of fear at the thought of how close she’d been to losing her life.
“No. Murphy.” She seemed to relax a little as she watched him, waiting patiently for him to continue talking. He loved how she wasn’t in a rush. Her manner calmed him and made conversation, which was usually a minefield of missed cues and uncertainty, so much easier. “He spends a lot of time in the woods south of town. Trapping, mostly.”
Wes paused, wondering if she would question him about Murphy’s activities. He’d never actually caught his neighbor in the act, but Wes had found a few illegal leg-hold traps that he was pretty sure belonged to Murphy. He was still trying to figure out the best plan to convince Murphy to stop, since the traps were dangerous, as well as cruel. Kit didn’t say anything, just kept her gaze on him, giving him her full attention.
“My neighbors don’t trust law enforcement…or any government agency, really. In the last year, they’ve started to come to me with a few things. They know I work for the forest service, so I believe they consider me an intermediary, someone halfway between them and the government, if that makes sense?”
“It does.” Her coffee forgotten, she stayed completely locked on him, and he felt the rush of that focused interest. “You’re their backwoods ambassador.”
His laugh was a surprise, even to him, more pleased than amused. It was such a pleasure to be understood. “Yes. Exactly. I pass on the information they give me to the right agency, and they can hold on to their anonymity.”
“Win-win.” Pushing her coffee mug aside, she laid her forearms on the table so she could lean even closer to him. “What did Murphy tell you?”
“Are you still working on the case of the house that burned down last Monday?” Even if she wasn’t, he still planned to tell her the information he’d gotten from Murphy. If he was the backwoods ambassador, then she was the Wes ambassador. He was acquainted with the other cops, and he didn’t have any problem with them since the crooked lieutenant had been arrested a few weeks ago, but he already trusted Kit. She might have been new to the area, but he had a gut-deep feeling that she wouldn’t betray him.
“Yes.”
Wes lowered his voice, even though the closest other diners were several tables away. “Murphy was checking his traps and saw someone leave that house minutes before it went up in flames.”
“How close was he?” Kit had softened her voice to match his.
“Approximately fifteen feet from the edge of the house’s backyard.”
“Could he describe the person? Does he know them?” Although the words were quiet, there was an urgency to them that made his blood run faster. It wasn’t a bad feeling. Ever since he’d met Kit, he’d felt so much more alive.
“He said it was a stranger.”
The sound of a harsh inhale a few feet from their table made Wes start. Turning his head, he saw a small, dark-haired woman in a diner uniform, two menus in her white-knuckled grip.
“Elena.” Kit greeted the woman. Although her voice was cordial, there was the slightest of tensions there, telling Wes that she didn’t trust this newcomer. “Are those menus for us?”
“Oh, yes.” The woman seemed to snap out of her paralysis, and she offered them the laminated sheets. “Sorry. Jules is busy, so she asked if I’d run these out to you.”
“Thank you,” Kit said. There was a pause as Elena continued to hover, and Kit glanced at Wes, their eyes meeting ever so quickly. That brief look connected them and made him feel like they were a team. He wished Elena would leave so they could go back to their intense discussion where it felt like there were only two of them in the whole viner.
When she didn’t move away, Kit said, “We’ll probably need a minute before we order.” She gave Elena a closed-lip smile, the one Wes recognized as her polite expression. “We’re both new to the viner’s offerings.”
“Oh! Okay.” A frustrated look passed over Elena’s face—so quickly that Wes almost wasn’t positive he’d really seen it—before the doe-eyed, terrified expression returned. He was fascinated by how she could switch masks so quickly. “Just let Jules know when you’re ready to order.”
“Will do,” Kit said cheerily, her attention turning to the menu. Her body stayed alert, though, and Wes knew her focus was on Elena. After hovering for another few seconds, Elena darted back toward the kitchen, almost running into a sharp-faced woman in the doorway. The other woman barked out a “Hey!” as she recovered her balance. Wes couldn’t hear Elena’s response before she ducked into the kitchen. The other woman headed for the restroom.
Kit met Wes’s eyes. There was that look again, the one that said they were a team. It was a thrilling feeling to be a part of something with Kit.
She waited several moments after Elena had disappeared into the kitchen before saying very quietly, “I don’t trust her.”
Wes thought that was wise. “She hides what she’s really feeling.”
“Yes!” Kit raised her hands as if in triumph. “Exactly. I’m also beginning to suspect that she’s an instigator.”
“In what way?”
“She knew some information about my past and lied about it.” Her features hardened, a dramatic change from her usual soft expression when she looked at Wes. “She said that Hugh’s girlfriend gossiped about me, but both Hugh and Grace—that’s the girlfriend—denied knowing anything about it.”
Wes considered her words carefully. Hearing about these types of interpersonal exchanges made him glad he spent most of his time at his tower alone. “Couldn’t Hugh and Grace be the ones who lied?” After he asked it, he hoped Kit didn’t think he was doubting her. It was just in his nature to question things.
“It’s possible.” She sounded thoughtful, rather than offended, and Wes’s tension eased with relief. “My internal lie detector is usually pretty good, though, and it’s telling me that Elena was the one not telling the truth.” She made a wry grimace. “I might be biased, though, since something about her rubs me the wrong way.”
“You shouldn’t question your instincts,” Wes said. Leila had repeated that over and over when he was a kid and had a hard time figuring out people’s motivations. She’d always told him to trust his gut, that it would tell him whether someone was meaning to be kind or cruel. “With your job, I can see why you’d get good at knowing when someone wasn’t being honest. You shouldn’t disregard that.”
Smiling slightly, she studied him. “Thank you, Wes. You give excellent advice.”
He blinked, never expecting to be complimented on that particular skill. “You’re welcome.”
“Enough of my mini-dramas.” She took another sip of coffee. “Tell me more about what your neighbor saw. Can he describe the person he saw leaving the house?”
“I don’t see why he couldn’t, since he was close enough to get a clear look.”
Kit raised an eyebrow at him, looking slightly amused when he stared back, not sure what she was waiting for. “So, he didn’t describe the person he saw?”
“No.” Murphy had heard something and disappeared into the trees before Wes could get anything more out of him.
“What’s his name and address?” She pulled a small notebook from her coat pocket. “I’ll go interview him this afternoon.”
At the thought of Murphy’s reaction to a strange cop showing up at his house, Wes winced. “That probably won’t work, especially since I don’t know his address.”
After eyeing him for a long moment, she dropped the notebook back in her pocket. “Is this neighbor one of the gun-toting, paranoid set?”
“No. Not of the group you met. He does like guns, and from what I’ve seen, he’s probably suffering from paranoia.”
“Great.” Kit closed her eyes and let out a hard breath before reopening them. “So, he hasn’t pointed a gun at me yet, but he probably will in the future?”
“If you continue to visit the area around the tower,” he said, hoping she would indeed keep visiting him, “then yes. That’s not an unlikely scenario.”
Despite his words, she was smiling at him again. “I like how you talk.”
The simple, straightforward compliment completely knocked the wind out of him. Before he could even start to think of how to respond, Wes raised his head, inhaling deeply. There was a smoke smell that didn’t fit with the others in the viner—acrid and unfamiliar. “Something’s burning.”
Kit looked toward the kitchen. “Did someone neglect the toast?”
“No. It’s not food.” He inhaled again, but he still couldn’t identify it. “It’s—”
A low beeping from a fire alarm interrupted him, and thick, black smoke immediately started pouring out of the kitchen. The sharp-featured woman ran out of the restroom toward the kitchen door, and Wes stood, peripherally noticing that Kit got up at the same time.
“Don’t go in there,” Kit called across the diner, but the woman ignored her. As she pushed through the door, a billow of black smoke escaped into the dining area, and the cries of alarm turned into coughs. The waitress started hurrying toward the kitchen as well, but Kit stopped her. “Jules, get everyone outside and call Fire.”
Jules, her face pale and anxious, switched directions and started herding customers toward the front entry. Wes stayed next to Kit, who moved quickly through the dining area to the kitchen door, pausing only to grab the fire extinguisher from its spot hanging on the wall. He entered the kitchen, his eyes instantly tearing from the smoke. It wasn’t the pleasant burn of woodsmoke, but the chemical harshness of melting plastic. He paused, taking in the scene, but it was hard to see more than a few feet in the haze.
From the little he could see, the kitchen appeared to be empty, but that couldn’t be true. They’d watched Elena and the other woman enter, so they had to be here somewhere. “Elena!” he called, and the smoke immediately scratched at his lungs, forcing him to cough. That just made it feel worse, though, so he stopped coughing and called again. “Anyone else in here! You need to get out now!”
Kit passed him, moving quickly. “Flames this way.”
He followed, continuing to scan the space for the two women. The dark shapes of equipment and counters looked alien in the thick smoke, and his eyes watered, creating a distorting lens that made it even harder to see. The haze thickened as they got closer to the flames leaping against the back wall, growing even worse as Kit sprayed the fire with the fire-extinguisher foam.
A dark, human-sized form darted across the room. There! Wes moved toward it. “This way! Come this way, and we’ll get you out!” Yelling tore at his lungs, and he started to cough again, feeling like every heave just pulled in more smoke. Wiping at his watering eyes, he peered through the gloom. The figure wasn’t moving toward them, and Wes wondered if they were disoriented by the smoke or panicked. Pressing his arm against his nose and mouth to try to filter some of the smoke, he moved toward where he’d seen the movement. The haze was thicker, and his urge to cough was almost too strong to resist.
Squinting, he peered across through the smoky room, hoping that Kit was okay. He tried to reassure himself that she was trained to deal with emergencies like this, but he still wanted to get her to safety.
There! He saw someone in the gloom, just as the back door was yanked open.
Light flooded the room as the flames behind him leapt higher. He heard Kit curse, and he turned to check on her, his heart accelerating with concern. Seemingly unhurt, she was still working on putting out the flames, and she’d been joined by someone else with a second fire extinguisher.
“Help! Let me go! Someone, help!” A woman’s screams made him whip around, just before the outside door slammed shut, cutting off the sunlight and her cries. Wes’s brain tried to make sense of the situation. What’d just happened? Had someone just been dragged outside against their will?
“Kit!” he yelled, trying to be heard over the noise of the flames and the fire extinguishers and the shouts from Vicki and Kit. He managed somehow, and Kit turned toward him. “It sounded like someone was dragged out through that door!” His voice was rough, but Kit seemed to have understood, immediately rushing toward him. “Through there,” he said, the words rough from smoke inhalation as he pointed toward the back exit. She ran past him toward the door.
Wes followed Kit, catching up to her as she yanked open the door. The cold daylight flooded in, making his lungs and eyes sting even more, and he coughed and blinked, trying to clear his vision.
A loud crack split the air. Kit shoved Wes back into the viner, even before his brain identified the sound as a gunshot. Shocked by the familiar yet unexpected noise, he allowed her to push him back into the smoky haze, resisting the urge to protect her by putting his body between her and the shooter. The logical part of his brain reminded him that she was a cop and knew what she was doing, but the rest of him simply wanted to do whatever he needed to in order to keep her safe.
Bam! Bam! Bam! Another three loud shots were fired in quick succession. He crouched automatically, reaching out to tug Kit with him, but she was already down and was drawing her gun.
“Are you okay?” he rasped. “Are you hit?”
“Code four,” she clipped, her attention locked on the alley behind the viner.
He tried to translate that, but his brain spun uselessly, not finding the answer he needed. “What?”
“Sorry.” She gave him a quick glance over her shoulder before returning her focus to what was happening outside. “Cop speak. I’m fine. You?”
“I’m okay.”
“Good.” He couldn’t miss the wealth of relief in her voice. Despite the bullets and the flood of adrenaline and the smoky confusion, her concern warmed him. She shifted forward, cautiously peering around the doorframe. Wes tensed, but the alley outside was silent. The shooter had stopped…for now. “I’m moving to the side of that Dumpster,” she said, her words hushed but authoritative. “Wait here until I give you the all clear.”
The urge to go with her, to protect her, filled him, but he shoved it down. He needed to help her by following her orders. If he let his instinct to keep her safe at all costs take over, he’d just get in her way—and that might get both of them killed. “Got it.”
Tensed for another round of gunshots, he held his breath as she darted into the alley, her gun at the ready. All of the sounds around him—the still-crackling flames, the swearing of the woman trying to put out the fire, the hiss of the fire extinguisher—were drowned out by his heart beating in his ears. Every one of his muscles was clenched with fear as he watched Kit speed across the alley. She was only exposed for seconds, but it felt like an eternity. One shot could’ve taken her out, and he could do nothing to stop it.
Kit dove behind the green metal bin, and Wes let out a hard breath. Now that she was somewhat protected from the shooter, he relaxed slightly and shifted into the doorway to get a better view.
She checked the area and then darted down the alley, staying to one side, close to the buildings. Wes chased after her, his gaze moving from side to side, trying to check all the possible sniper locations at once. He hated that Kit was so exposed, that the shooter could be anywhere—right around the corner, hiding in the doorway, ready to take aim at her as soon as she ran by.
Turning her head, Kit shouted, “Grab Justice out of my SUV!”
He hated to leave her, but he knew she needed her K9 partner. Turning, he ran around the side of the VFW, his boots sinking into the snow with every step and slowing him down. There weren’t any tracks, but he was still tense, waiting for another round of gunfire to cut him down. In a way, it would’ve been a relief, since that would mean the gunman wasn’t about to ambush Kit in the alley.
As he reached the lot, he scanned the vehicles, finding three SUVs. Even if he hadn’t recognized her SUV from the first time they’d met, the bloodhound in the back seat would’ve told him which one was hers.
He rushed to it, opening the door and expecting Justice to surge out, but the bloodhound stayed in the SUV, his entire body wiggling with excitement. Relieved to see that the dog was already wearing a protective vest, Wes looked for a leash but didn’t see one. He stepped back to give Justice an opening. When the hound just danced in place, Wes figured he was waiting for a command.
“Out!” he tried. “Down!” Justice lay down, his big paws stretched in front of him. That wasn’t the one. Wes tried to think of other possible commands. “Off! Here!” He racked his brain for other words that made sense, but nothing was coming to him. “Okay…”
Justice leapt off the seat, almost knocking Wes over on his way out of the SUV. Once down, he jumped and played, his directionless excitement leading him to run a few feet away and then spin to rush back to Wes.
Slamming the door closed, Wes ran toward the side of the VFW again, Justice following. The fire engine pulled into the lot, and he turned to see some cops rushing out of the station and across the street. “Fire’s by the back wall in the kitchen,” he called out to Theo, the closest cop. “One person’s still putting it out. Someone dragged a woman out of the kitchen and shot at us. Kit’s chasing them west down the alley.”
As Wes ran toward the back of the viner, he heard Theo shouting, repeating the information that Wes had just shared with him. The dog sped up, running in front of him, giving him occasional backward looks as if he wasn’t sure where he was supposed to go. His ears were pinned back, and his tail was tucked, telling Wes that his playfulness was switching to anxiety. Wes felt guilty and scared for Kit, but he didn’t know how to get Justice to track her and the shooter. For Pete’s sake, he didn’t even know the command to get Justice out of the car.
Frustration filled him, battling with his fear for Kit’s safety, and he fisted his hands at his sides. He needed to do this, to calm down and communicate with Justice. Think of it as a puzzle, he told himself. It’s dog training, after all. If Justice understands, then surely I can figure it out.
“We can do this,” he said, and the dog crouched a little at his harsh tone. Wes cringed and made an effort to soften his voice. “Sorry, Justice. Help me out here. I need you to follow Kit.”
Justice perked up, his head cocking to the side and his tail waving tentatively.
“Kit? Is that a word you know?”
His tail whipped back and forth in what Wes was pretty sure was an affirmative answer.
“Look for Kit!” Justice just stared at him, so Wes tried another possibility. “Search for Kit! No? Track Kit!” There was still no response except for enthusiastic tail wagging every time he said Kit’s name, and Wes felt frustration building up again. He shoved it back, knowing that he couldn’t let it creep into his voice and scare Justice again. “Follow Kit! Find Kit!”
That got a reaction.
The bloodhound immediately lowered his head and made ever-widening circles, so focused that Wes felt hope rise in him. Letting out a loud bark, Justice started running down the alley in the direction Kit had gone.
“Good dog! Good boy, Justice! Let’s find Kit!” Letting out excited bays, the dog quickly outpaced Wes, turning south between two buildings. When Wes reached the spot where Justice had changed direction, the bloodhound was long gone, and Wes had to switch to following the boot and paw prints in the snow.
His heart was pounding heavily in his chest, but it was more with adrenaline and anxiety for Kit’s safety than from exertion. Breathing was hard, thanks to the smoke, and he struggled not to cough, knowing that it would just slow him down. He heard pounding footsteps behind him and looked over his shoulder to see that Theo was following him. As Wes faced front again, two gunshots rang out, followed quickly by a third. Kit! Heart in his throat, Wes ran faster, barely preventing himself from calling to her. He didn’t want to distract her if she was fighting for her life.
The tracks turned again, disappearing behind a detached garage, and Wes tore toward the structure, dreading what he might find behind it. After the gunshots, he braced himself for the worst. What if he was too late to save Kit? His heart thumping painfully against his ribs, his imagination painted horrible scenarios in his head as he rounded the corner.
Taking in the scene, Wes dragged in a deep breath and immediately started coughing. When he came into sight, Kit spun to face him, putting her body between him and a crying Elena. Recognition and relief passed over her face, and she turned back toward the other woman. Justice was bouncing in excited circles, returning to attempt to lick everyone’s face. Elena cried harder as she pushed the dog away with black-smudged fingers. Wes approached with Theo close behind, and Kit took a step back, hauling the dog with her by his harness.
“Sit, Justice,” she said before turning to Theo. “Can you call in a BOLO for a white sedan? Elena said the plates were covered with snow and unreadable. She thinks it turned east on Main, but she’s not certain. There’re at least two people in the vehicle, the driver and the man who tried to abduct Elena. She couldn’t give a good description, except that he was male, tall, and strong, and he was wearing dark-colored pants, coat, and a ski mask.”
Theo repeated the information into his radio as she turned back to Elena. “Are you hurt?” Kit asked gently. “Theo can call for an ambulance if you need one.”
“No,” Elena said between shuddery breaths, “no ambulance.”
“Okay. Can you stand?” Kit asked as Wes moved to take Justice’s harness. She gave him a smile of thanks before returning her attention to helping Elena up.
“Do you have any idea why he tried to kidnap you?” Theo asked, stepping closer. With renewed sobs, Elena threw herself against Theo’s chest, burying her face in the front of his coat. Wearing a startled expression, Theo held out his hands as if he had a gun pointed at him. Wes took an automatic step back, tugging Justice with him. He was very glad that Elena hadn’t chosen to throw herself at him.
As Elena clutched Theo’s coat, Wes noticed the black smudges on Elena’s right fingers again. “What’s that on your hand?” he asked. Kit moved closer to look, but Elena yanked her hand back, tucking it between her chest and Theo’s.
“Probably soot from the fire,” Theo said, trying to step back to get a better look. Elena’s hands fisted in his coat, making it impossible for him to budge. Wes made a skeptical sound. The black marks had looked more like gunpowder than soot. He eyed a still-sobbing Elena, wondering if she’d been the one who’d shot at them. Anger gripped him at the thought of Kit getting hurt, and he clenched his teeth to keep himself from accusing her. He’d mention it to Kit, but he knew she’d already seen it. She wasn’t stupid. She’d know what it was and quickly reach the same conclusion that Wes had. He looked at her, at the way her narrowed gaze took in Elena and the scene around them, and he knew Kit was already there—and probably a few steps ahead of him.
But if it was true, why would Elena go through such trouble to stage her own fake kidnapping?
“We should get a couple people to tape this area off, as well as the alley right behind the viner,” Kit said, her gaze cool and thoughtful as it rested on Elena. “Did you see if the man who grabbed you tossed the gun or kept it on him?”
Wes saw the tiniest jerk of Elena’s shoulders at the question. “Nooo,” she said between hiccupping breaths, drawing out the word uncertainly. “I don’t think so.” She sniffed and released Theo to blot at her face with her sleeve. “It’s cold out here. Can we go back to the viner?”
“Okay,” Kit said, raking the area with her gaze a final time. “Let’s head to the station. We can talk in the warmth there.”