Norah wanted to close her eyes, but they refused to cooperate. Instead, she stared fixedly at the fist swinging toward her face, even when the knuckles got so close that she went cross-eyed.
The fist stopped abruptly, close enough that Norah’s eyelashes brushed against the battered knuckles. The gym was completely silent until her belated indrawn breath broke the quiet. For the thousandth time, she mentally gave thanks that no one else was there. It limited the potential embarrassment, at least. Physical pain, Norah could handle. Mockery, not so much.
“If you’re not going to block, you should at least move your face.” His voice had a raspy edge to it that distracted her for a moment, just long enough for her eyelashes to flick against his knuckles three more times.
When the meaning of his words finally registered, she pulled her head back and her focus away from that huge, scarred fist. She hadn’t expected the almost-hit to come so fast. It hadn’t given her time to think through each step of blocking his punch, so she hadn’t done anything—not even duck. That had always been her issue when Felicity, one of her sisters, tried to teach her self-defense. If she wasn’t able to run through her mental what-to-do checklist, her brain froze until it was too late. That was probably part of the reason she’d almost watched her sisters die multiple times over the past few weeks.
He dropped his arm to his side and regarded her with his head cocked slightly to the right. Although he was frowning, that had been his default expression since she’d walked into his gym yesterday, so she didn’t take it personally. “It’s better to move before the punch lands.”
When he paused, she figured he was waiting for her to say something. There really was no necessary response, however, since everything he’d just said made sense. Still, in the interest of moving on to the next step, she gave a nod and said, “Okay.”
His scowl deepened. “Don’t just agree. Do it next time.”
She studied him as she mentally debated how to respond. It was an interesting face to look at, with his almost-black irises and prominent cheekbones and the scars mottling the left side of his neck and jawline, but she couldn’t really enjoy it because the majority of her focus was on what to say next. Okay hadn’t gone over well, so that was out, but that was usually her go-to phrase when she wanted someone to stop staring at her and continue. She tried, “I will.”
To her satisfaction, that seemed to do the trick. Although his expression was still snarly, he took a step back and settled into the defensive position he’d just shown her—base solid and hands ready to protect his face. Despite his burly form, he looked light on his feet, and she knew from their very short acquaintance that he could move surprisingly fast. One of his slashing black brows lifted in a soundless command. Twitching her tank top into place, she moved to mimic his stance.
They were only ten minutes into their first session, but the position already felt natural. It just made physiological sense, and there was nothing that Norah appreciated more than when things were logical. If only punches didn’t come so quickly, she was pretty sure she’d actually be able to remember how to counter them.
“Let’s try this in slow-motion,” he said, as if he’d read her mind. He started extending his arm, the muscles stretching out from their bunched positions. Even when he wasn’t flexing, though, his arms were huge. As his fist gradually drew closer to her face, she ran through the steps in her head.
Shoulders up, tuck my chin, thrust palm, connect with the side of his wrist, shove his arm away, move my face in case I miss, and return hand to guard position.
“Good.” The compliment was a mere grunt, but it still warmed her insides. “Again.”
Over and over, slightly faster each time, he threw punches at her face. Gradually, her movements became automatic, and she didn’t have to think about each step. Her body just started doing what needed to be done.
“Okay,” he said, shifting his balance back. Norah felt a line of sweat tickle her spine, and she wished she could take off another layer. If she took anything else off, however, she’d be down to her underwear, and Dash was much too attractive for her to be that close to naked in front of him. “Let’s work on breaking some holds.” His voice was even as he continued, either ignoring the fact that she’d turned bright red or not noticing that she suddenly resembled a stop sign. As warm as the gym was, he probably just thought she was overheating because of the physical effort, rather than embarrassment.
He was waiting again, so she gave him a slight lift of her chin in response. That seemed to be what he’d been waiting for, because he shifted closer and waited for her to imitate his ready stance.
“If I grab you, what’s your first impulse?” He closed his fingers around her forearm, the rough rasp of his skin in direct opposition to the gentle, careful way he held her.
She blinked down at his hand, surprised that she wasn’t more upset. Normally, she wasn’t a big fan of strangers touching her. Her gaze moved to Dash, and she wondered why it was different with him.
“Your first impulse is to stand there?” She felt her cheeks warm again, but he sounded surprised, rather than mocking.
Norah tried to think of how to explain that he didn’t trigger the usual alarm in her brain, but she couldn’t even understand it herself. If anyone except her sisters—well, apparently her sisters or Dash—touched her, she would have yanked away. “No,” she answered belatedly. “I’d pull back. If someone else grabbed my arm, I mean.”
The revealing heat was returning to her cheeks, annoying her. Why am I being so extra awkward with him?
Luckily, he didn’t seem to notice anything off about her as he increased the pull on her arm. His fingers stayed gentle, even as he hauled her close to him. She wondered if she was supposed to fight back, but her brain was still preoccupied by her strange behavior, so she couldn’t think of the best way to get free from his hold. As careful as his grip was, it was still firm and unyielding. Her forearm looked tiny and frail in contrast to his thick, rough-looking fingers.
He pulled her closer until their fronts were almost touching. She kept her gaze on his face, checking for clues about what he wanted her to be doing in response. All she knew from looking at him was that his eyelashes were as black and thick as a mascara ad, and he appeared to be…baffled.
“Why aren’t you pulling back?” he finally asked, pulling her attention away from her study of his eyelashes.
“Am I supposed to?” she asked.
“No.”
She frowned slightly, confused.
“Most people do, and we have to train a different reaction. You’re the first person I’ve trained with such a…passive response.”
Norah’s frown deepened. “Passive?” She didn’t like to think of herself as passive. Even in her less physical role in her family’s bounty hunting business, her contribution felt active, like she was accomplishing something. Her method of chasing might be computer-based, but it was its own type of hunt. Though…she had to admit that she hadn’t done very well in the field. Maybe if she hadn’t been so passive, she wouldn’t have ended up on the wrong end of a gun so often.
Her chin set as determination coursed through her. This was why she was here, after all. She wanted to get better at the physical part so she could do her part to protect her sisters. She was tired of always being the one tied to the railroad tracks. Instead, she wanted to be the hero riding to the rescue, for once. “What should I do instead?”
The corner of his mouth twitched in something so close to a smile that she blinked, startled. “Just what you did,” he said.
Shaking off her distraction, she looked up at him, confused. “I thought I was too passive.”
“Not in this case.” He stepped back without releasing her arm. “Like I said, most people pull back when someone grabs them. That’s what the assailant expects you to do. If you step in closer, instead, it throws them off guard.”
Norah could understand why the attacker would be thrown initially, but there were still holes in his logic. “I haven’t gotten away, though.”
“That’s the next step.” He pulled her in again, and she allowed herself to be tugged toward him, even as the word passive rang sourly in her brain. This close, she had to tilt her head back to meet his gaze. “Now, you’re in a position to get some hits in. You could knee me in the groin or stomp on my foot or do a palm heel strike to my nose. All my tender bits are at your mercy.”
The words tender bits coming from cranky Dash made her smile, but his meaning sharpened her grin. “Nothing passive about smashing your…tender bits.”
This time he really did smile, and it looked just as fierce as hers felt. “Nope. As tiny and fragile as you seem, they won’t see it until it’s too late.”
Her surge of confidence faltered. “See what?”
He gave a light tap on her sternum. “Your ferocious inner badger.”
Her smile returned at full force, and she started asking him to show her how exactly to crush his bits when a thunderous knocking made her jump. His scowl snapped back into place before he released her arm and headed for the entrance.
She watched him flip the deadbolt and yank open the door, as butterflies danced around her insides. When she’d walked in the gym for the first time a few days before, the most she’d been hoping for was to possibly learn to throw a punch. All she wanted was to never again be a liability in a fight, but Dash made it seem like even more was possible. With time and training, she might become a true bad-ass. It was a powerful feeling.
“What?” Dash snarled, but even his cranky tone couldn’t erase her smile, especially since his ire wasn’t directed at her.
“Why’s the door locked?” Another voice, almost as deep as Dash’s but not half as gravelly, asked. “This place is never closed. I thought you were dead or something.”
“Private session. Come back in an hour.” Dash swung the door shut, ignoring the other man’s protests, and clicked the deadlock back into place.
As he rejoined her where she waited in the center of the gym, she felt a twist of anxiety thinking that all the usual gym clients were locked out, waiting in the alley, getting more and more annoyed because she was having a private session with Dash. “You didn’t have to close the gym down just for me.”
He gave her a level look. “You don’t need a bunch of meatheads staring while you try to learn this stuff. Archer’s right—this place is almost always open. He can come back later.”
The thought of having an audience as she struggled through the motions made her nauseated, and she gave him a grateful nod. “Thank you.”
With a grumbly noise, he waved his hand as if dismissing her thanks. “Let’s not waste this time then. Palm heel strikes, when you do them right, can be even more effective than a punch…”
As Dash continued, Norah focused on him, filing every word into the proper place in her brain. At the back of her mind, she was almost giddy with the knowledge that he’d closed down the entire gym for her because he knew she’d be uncomfortable with people watching. The happy butterflies in her belly took flight again, but she batted them down, determined to concentrate.
After all, empty-gym time was precious and not to be wasted.
* * *
Norah peeked around the door before stepping into the entry of her house, feeling a bit guilty that she was learning self-defense from someone other than Felicity. Rather than the mostly empty house she’d expected, it sounded as if all of her sisters were home—and all speaking at once. Giving up on her plan of slipping in unnoticed, Norah stepped inside, curious as to what was happening.
“Norah!” her oldest sister, Molly, called from where she was pacing the kitchen, a cellphone pressed to her ear. “You’re home. Good. Cara and I need some help in here.”
Charlie spun around from where she and Felicity were deep in discussion by the bottom of the stairs, their heads so close they were almost touching. “Wait your turn, Moo. We need Norah. We’re so close to finding Mom.” Charlie crossed the living room and grabbed a fold of Norah’s shirt, as if to hold her in place.
Eyebrows shooting up, Norah looked at her sister’s fingers and then met Charlie’s amped gaze. “What’s happening? You really have a lead on Mom?” Her stomach twisted with a mix of emotions. Although it wasn’t a surprise that Jane disappeared after using the necklace as collateral on her daughters’ home, Norah still felt sick every time she thought about it. She also hated the thought of her mom going to prison, and she was annoyed that she even cared. After all, Jane didn’t seem to mind that her actions were about to make her daughters homeless.
“Yes.” Felicity was the one who answered as she bounced across the room to join them. Judging by the excited gleam in her eyes, she wasn’t feeling the same messy mix of feelings that Norah was. “It’s a good lead, too. Do you remember Evan Sage?”
The name rang a bell, but Norah had to think hard before asking, “He was a deputy who moved away sometime last year?”
“That’s the one.” Charlie grinned as she cast a sideways glance at Felicity. “He got a job with the police department in a small town in North Dakota—”
“South,” Felicity interjected.
“Right.” Giving a little shrug, Charlie accepted the correction with good grace. “I always get those two confused. I wish they’d just merge into one big state called Dakota. Anyway, apparently, he’s still obsessed with our Fifi here, and he texted her when he spotted Jane in some security footage, taking a five-finger discount at their local Wal-Mart just an hour ago. Store security didn’t manage to catch her, so they passed the case to the local PD.”
“He’s not obsessed with me,” Felicity said mildly.
Without pausing, Charlie continued, “Obsessed Deputy Evan sent over the video files of inside and outside the store. Could you go through them and make sure it’s Mom and if you can spot what she’s driving nowadays?”
“Of course,” Norah said, shoving her conflicted feelings aside as a spark of excitement grew inside her. As much as she knew she needed to learn the skills Dash had started teaching her, her first love was doing research, safe behind her computer screen. “Are the files saved in our shared drive?”
“You know it.” Releasing Norah, Charlie grabbed hold of Felicity’s arm instead and towed her toward the door where their two backpacks were waiting. “Text us if you find anything. We’re going to get on the road and head toward Dakota.”
“That’s not a thing,” Felicity complained as she freed herself from her sister’s hold in order to shoulder one of the packs. “You can’t just change two states’ names on a whim to make up for your geographical shortcomings.”
“But it makes so much sense.” Grabbing the other backpack, Charlie headed out the door, and her voice grew fainter as she crossed the front porch. “Think of how much embarrassment it would save people. I can’t be the only one who gets those two confused.”
“Bye Norah,” Felicity said, rolling her eyes at her twin. “Bye Molly and Cara!”
The two in the kitchen chorused their goodbyes, and Molly added, “Keep in contact, and don’t do anything stupid.”
Pausing in the doorway, Felicity called back, “I never do anything stupid.”
Molly stuck her head into the living room. “Try to keep Charlie from doing anything stupid, then.”
“I heard that!” Charlie yelled from outside.
“Good! Then you’ll know not to do anything stupid!” Molly shouted back, although she was smiling.
With a final quick wave at Norah, Felicity left, letting the screen door bang closed behind her. The sound, as familiar as it was, made Norah jump. It seemed to emphasize the finality of her sisters’ exit. This might be the last time they have to chase after Jane.
Norah pulled her gaze off the closed door and headed into the kitchen. It seemed a lot quieter without Charlie and Felicity there, even though Molly was still talking to someone on her cell.
“Ready to research?” Cara asked with a smile that turned puzzled as she studied Norah. “What have you been up to? You look like you just ran a marathon or fell into a pond. Possibly both.”
Norah hesitated. She was reluctant to answer, but she wasn’t sure whether that was because her sisters would feel responsible for dragging her into dangerous situations, or because she wanted to keep Dash her own personal secret for a while. The second option made her uncomfortable, so she quit thinking about it and just blurted, “I was at the gym.”
Cara’s eyes widened. Even Molly, who was supposed to be paying attention to the person on the other end of the line, looked fascinated. “What gym?” Cara asked, the corners of her mouth lifting as her eyes sparked with titillation.
Before Norah could answer, Molly was saying into the phone, “Gotta go. Interesting things happening here.” There was a short pause before she snorted a laugh. “Yes, more interesting than you. It is possible, you know. Love you. Bye.” Ending the call, she shoved her cell into her pocket without looking away from Norah. “You went to a gym? Why? Doesn’t Fifi torture you enough?”
“Who was that on the phone?” Norah knew her stall tactic wouldn’t work—at least not for long—but she needed a few moments to get her thoughts together. Molly and Cara would feel the guiltiest if Norah explained her true reasons for wanting to learn how to fight. After all, she’d been their backup when her failure to defend herself had become glaringly evident.
“John Carmondy, of course.” Cara was the one who answered. “Who else does she love except for us, and we’re all here—well, we were all here, before Fifi and Charlie left.”
“It could’ve been Lono,” Norah argued. “She loves her dad.”
“Quit stalling.” Molly narrowed her eyes into the stern glare that was guaranteed to make Norah fold. Of course her sister saw right through her delaying tactics. “What’s going on?”
“I…um… I wanted to take some MMA lessons?” Her voice turned up at the end, and Norah knew she’d failed. Her sisters would see through her lame excuse in a second, and then she’d have to tell them the truth—that she didn’t want to be the weak link. She couldn’t live with the idea that she might be the reason they were killed or injured, because they trusted her to act as backup and she miserably failed.
Both Cara and Molly were eyeing her suspiciously, and she braced for the coming inquisition. “Why would you suddenly decide that you’re interested in fighting of any sort?”
“Uh… It’s actually an interesting sport? An art form even.” She resisted the urge to close her eyes and sigh at her utter hopelessness.
The silence from her two sisters was charged as they looked at each other and then back at Norah. The sheer glee in both of their expressions made her pretty sure that they hadn’t reached the correct conclusion, and she let the air out of her lungs in a quiet breath of relief. “Is all this,” Molly sketched a circle in the air, encompassing Norah’s entire sweaty and bedraggled form, “because of a guy?”
“A really fit MMA guy?” Cara, who was usually her steadiest and most practical sister, sounded positively giddy. “One who insists that the only way to learn is if he puts his strong, sinewy hands on you to guide you through each movement?”
Even Molly’s eyebrows flew up at that, and she turned to stare at Cara. “Where’d that come from?”
“That movie Henry and I watched the other night. The one with the hot Samoan boxing coach?”
“Oh, right,” Molly said, and then both of her sisters refocused on Norah, making her panic a little.
“It’s not… I mean, there is a guy, but that’s not… He’s not…” She trailed off, unable to finish the absolutely ridiculous lie that Dash wasn’t hot and that she wasn’t attracted to him. Her face burned, and she knew her normally light skin was currently bright red. Just go with it, her inner voice urged. It was an easy way out of having to explain her true reasons, which would just make her sisters feel bad. Still, admitting that she found Dash enormously hot felt a little too close to the truth. This was just one more way she could protect her sisters from hurt, though. If that meant a little humiliation on her part, that was a small price to pay. With a sigh, she held her hands up in a shrug. “Fine. He’s really, really gorgeous.”
A sound that could only be described as a squeal emanated from both of her sisters in stereo, and Norah winced from both the decibel and the attention.
“It is a guy! You voluntarily went to a gym because you’re interested in a guy!” Cara was positively giddy. “What about the sinewy hands thing, though? Was I right about that part?”
“Our little Norah is all grown up,” Molly cooed, making Norah cringe. Molly’s delighted laugh was contagious, though, and she found herself giving her sisters a sheepish smile.
“Well? Spill!” Cara prodded, and Norah stared at her blankly. She’d already spilled on the whole Dash thing. What more did her sisters want? Cara rolled her eyes affectionately as she clarified, “What’s his name? Description? How’d you meet him? Are you dating or just working out together?” Cara’s eyebrows bobbed up and down suggestively, making Norah laugh. The truth was, she’d found out about Dash’s gym online, and it was rated the best in the area for mixed-martial arts training. She hadn’t set eyes on Dash until she’d forced herself to walk into his gym, but that didn’t fit with this less-guilt-inducing version of events that she was letting her sisters believe.
Thankfully, her cell phone rang before her silence went on too long and made the other two suspicious. “Pax Bond Recovery,” she answered, dropping her eyes to the floor so her sisters’ impatient expressions didn’t make her lose her train of thought.
“Which of you Pax girls is this?” Barney Thompson’s distinctive voice made her make a face. Spilling all the details about Dash and his sinewy hands would’ve been better than having to talk to the slimy bail bondsman who held the deed to their family home. Thanks for that, Mom.
“This is Norah,” she answered. “What can we do for you, Mr. Thompson?”
“Norah…Norah… Oh, you’re the mousy blond one! POS’s kid. How’s he doing?”
“Fine,” she lied, not wanting to go into the gory details of the mess her dad, Dwayne “POS” Possin, was currently making of his life—especially not with Barney Thompson, of all people. The only reason they were giving Barney the time of day was that they still hadn’t found Jane, and he could make their lives miserable if she missed her first hearing. “What did you need?”
“All business, aren’t you?” he asked with a stiff laugh, and she scrunched her nose at her sisters, who were watching her with a mixture of sympathy and apprehension. Norah barely could deal with talking to people outside her family. Making nice with a scumball like Barney was not part of her skill set. “I have another job for you.”
Her relieved exhale was silent. Even though he sounded a bit peeved about her not indulging in his desire for small talk, at least he was willing to get down to business. “Who’s the skip?” she asked.
“Devon Leifsen.”
The name didn’t ring any bells, so she repeated it for her sisters to hear. Both of them gave her a blank head shake. “What did he do?”
“You mean, what is he accused of doing?” Barney corrected archly.
“Sure.” There was a snap in her voice that she couldn’t help. Barney was quickly wearing through her thin veneer of patience.
“With your mother’s…situation, I would think you’d be more of a stickler about the whole innocent-until-proven-guilty thing.” He paused, as if waiting for her to comment, but she held her silence until he finally answered sullenly. “He’s accused of being a hacker. This time, he was arrested for deactivating home security systems so his buddies could burglarize the places.”
Norah drew in a sharp breath as her gaze flew to Cara. Her sister had been kidnapped after their security system had been disabled. Maybe it was just a coincidence, since there were lots of hackers in the world, but Langston, Colorado wasn’t a huge place. Cara gave her a questioning look as Norah asked, “Is he local?”
“If you call Denver local, then yeah.” Barney sounded bored now that she hadn’t gotten defensive about his earlier bait. “Look, it’s all in the file I sent over. Find him fast, or you’re not going to like the consequences.”
Norah was already opening her email app and pulling up the business’ account. If there was a chance that this guy helped kidnap Cara, then she was going to relish her part in bringing him in.
“Hello?” Barney’s voice echoed faintly from her phone speaker, and Norah twitched her shoulders in irritation. He’d said himself that everything was in the file. Why hadn’t he ended the call already? “Hello? Did you hang up on me, you little—”
Returning to the phone app, she pressed the end button. A snort from Molly brought her gaze from her phone screen to her sister’s amused expression. “What?” Norah asked.
Cara sighed, but the corners of her mouth twitched in a way that meant she wasn’t really that exasperated. “Don’t hang up on clients, Norah.”
“It was Barney.” She turned back to her phone, still wanting to read the file.
“True,” Molly agreed, the laughter in her voice slipping away. “But as long as he may have the ability to evict us in the near future, it might be a good idea to say ‘bye’ at the end of phone conversations.”
Distracted by the contents of Devon Leifsen’s file, Norah just grunted an acknowledgement. “The skip is a hacker who’s been disarming residential security systems so his friends can burglarize homes.” She heard Cara’s sharp indrawn breath as Norah continued to scroll through the information.
“Is he local?” Cara asked, moving to peer over Norah’s shoulder.
“Denver,” she answered absently, her brain already half in research mode.
“Okay.” Molly’s hand clap yanked Norah’s attention away from her phone. “New plan. I need to act as backup for John when he picks up a skip, so you two are it for research until I get back. Norah, you’ll tackle the security footage of Mom, and Cara gets to start investigating the hacker.” When Norah drew in a breath of protest, Molly cut her off with a sharp shake of her head. “Cara gets first crack since she was the one kidnapped.”
The logic of that couldn’t be argued with, so Norah closed the file and stood. “Okay. I’m going to look at the store footage on my laptop.”
“I’ll start going over Leifsen’s file on mine.” Cara sounded unusually bloodthirsty. Normally, she was the peacemaker, but Norah could understand. She had huge amounts of rage for everyone involved in Cara’s kidnapping, and Norah hadn’t even been the one snatched out of their living room. “I could use your help when you’re done watching Mom steal stuff.”
“Gladly,” Norah said before heading upstairs, motivated to get through the store footage as quickly as possible. Helping to bring in a skip was always satisfying, but finding a guy who may have had a hand in stealing Cara away? That would be doubly sweet.
* * *
Hours later, Norah decided that one circle of hell was watching store security footage nonstop. She wasn’t sure what terrible thing a person would have to do to get sentenced to an eternity of that, though. Her eyes were having trouble focusing, so she blinked rapidly and looked away, taking in the dimly lit details of her tiny room. It was officially a largish closet, but sharing a room made her anxious and unable to sleep, so she’d converted the small room into an improvised bedroom as a teenager.
It wasn’t a bad closet bedroom, as closet bedrooms went. Young Harry Potter would’ve considered Norah’s room to be an upgrade. Besides, she’d always been short and slight, so she didn’t need much more than her single bed—except when Warrant, their Great Pyrenees mix dog, took most of the space for his hundred-pound self. The closet even had a window set in the wall opposite the door, which showed the fading light of evening. Norah stared outside, still blinking to get her distance vision back after spending half the day staring at her computer screen. It was just light out enough to emphasize the darkness of the shadows. Usually, she appreciated living on the edge of a national forest, but this time of day, when the trees stood stark and spooky against the indigo sky, and her imagination inserted monsters into every creeping shadow, a part of her wished for the ambient light of a big, never-sleeping city.
Her stomach growled, making her jump and then laugh at her momentary startle. It was pretty sad to be scared by her own body’s noises, and it definitely meant that she needed a break. Standing, she stretched out the kinks and then headed downstairs to the kitchen. Sitting at the small table that worked as a desk, Cara looked up from her laptop and blinked. Norah had to smile at her sister’s cloudy expression, sure that it’d matched hers from just a few minutes ago. The transition from research mode to reality wasn’t an easy one.
Cara smiled back before transitioning to a yawn as she glanced at the clock on the microwave. “Whoa, where’d the day go?”
That wasn’t really a question that Norah could answer, so she just shrugged and stuck her head into the fridge. Felicity’s insistence on all of them eating healthily made it harder to find a quick meal, but there were eggs and cheese and veggies, and Norah could make something sort of speedily with that.
“Molly isn’t home yet?” she asked, her brain instantly filled with terrible scenarios of what might’ve befallen Molly and John.
“She spending the night at John’s. The skip pick-up went off as planned, but I’m assuming they have a lot of adrenaline to work out now.” Cara smirked.
“Oh.” Norah wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so she stayed quiet and opened the egg carton.
“What’d you find in the footage?” Cara asked, her tone carefully diffident. When Norah glanced over, her sister was studying a sticky note with more intensity than it deserved.
“Mom stealing things,” Norah said baldly, feeling guilty when she saw Cara wince before her sister quickly smoothed it away. “Want an omelet?”
“Sure. It really was her, then?”
“Yeah.” Picking up an egg, she held the cool, smooth oval in her hand as she studied Cara. Even as Jane had proved to her daughters over and over that she wasn’t a reliable person, it still came as a shock every time she did something like this. Norah wasn’t sure if they’d ever get used to their mother’s disregard for the law and her own children. “She took a bunch of those travel toiletries and a few smaller electronics and then left in a red Honda Accord with a Colorado license plate. I think the last letter was an L, but I’m not a hundred percent sure about that. She left the parking lot and headed west on the frontage road in front of the store, but she could’ve gone anywhere from there.”
By the time she’d finished summarizing what she’d found after staring at security footage for hours, Cara’s expression had returned to her usual calm. “You let Fifi and Charlie know?”
“Yes.” Norah cracked the egg she held into a bowl and then added three more. “I wish I could’ve gotten the entire license plate number.”
“You gave them a lot to work with,” Cara assured her. “With that and a place to start, they’re going to track her down in no time.”
I hope so. We don’t have much time to spare. Jane’s first court appearance was coming up fast. She didn’t say that out loud, though. Cara knew as well as she did that they were down to the wire. Instead, she changed the subject. “How’s your research going?”
“Eh.” Cara wiggled her hand from side to side in a so-so gesture. “Okay. I’m still not sure if he’s the one who helped Abbott kidnap me, but even if he isn’t, Devon Leifsen is a dirty piece of work.”
“Want some help?”
“After omelets? Sure.”
The gentle reminder made Norah realize she’d stopped beating the eggs as they’d talked, so she refocused on the meal prep. “After omelets.”
* * *
With her belly full and her brain already occupied with Devon Leifsen’s file, Norah settled back on her bed with her laptop warming her thighs. Probably hoping for leftovers, Warrant had chosen to stay downstairs with Cara as she did meal clean-up. Although Norah appreciated having the space to stretch her legs out, she missed the furry beast’s warmth next to her.
She read through Leifsen’s entire file, letting the information settle into her brain. He had a few possible connections in Langston, although his home base and main associates were in Denver. He was young—only twenty-three—but he’d managed to rack up a solid list of suspected offenses in the five years since he’d been a legal adult. Norah was pretty sure that his sealed juvie file would be interesting reading, as well.
Like Barney had said, he’d been arrested most recently for his part in three Denver burglaries. One of his accomplices had given him up as part of a plea deal. Before that, he’d been accused of numerous crimes, from bank fraud to planting cameras in the dressing area of a local beauty pageant. Norah’s nose wrinkled at that last one.
Not only is he a thief—he’s a sexual predator, too. Gross.
Most of the charges against him had been dropped immediately, and he’d never been convicted of anything. He’d never been married, and there were no known girlfriends or boyfriends—past or present—listed. His address matched his parents’ house in Golden, and they’d been the ones to bond him out before he skipped bail.
After scanning through the last page of his file, she started searching online for information, starting with his parents, Karen and Bryon Leifsen. They owned several auto body shops along the Front Range, and the couple’s names popped up quite a bit in the Golden social scene. Karen had a few speeding tickets, but otherwise the pair seemed to be generally law-abiding—or at least were good at not getting caught.
A light knock on her bedroom door made Norah jump, her laptop bouncing with the sudden movement. “Come in,” she called, and Cara stuck her head in.
“I’m heading to bed,” Cara said, as Norah’s heartrate gradually slowed. “Find anything?”
“Not really.” She’d taken in a lot of information, but she wasn’t at the point to start processing it yet, so it was just a bunch of facts about Devon Leifsen floating around her brain at this point.
“Goodnight. Don’t stay up too late.” Cara always told her this, even though she knew Norah probably wouldn’t take the advice.
“I won’t,” she responded as usual, knowing that she’d probably still be digging deeper into the rabbit hole in the wee hours of the night.
Once Cara withdrew and softly closed her bedroom door, Norah moved on to searching for information on Devon’s few friends mentioned in the file. One of them, a Chloe Ballister, was in a Denver modern rock band that played at a bar in Langston on a semi-regular basis.
“Of course it was at Dutch’s,” Norah muttered as she made a note of it. “Everything seems to come back to that place.”
A faint beep drew her eyes back to her laptop. A black text box with a flashing cursor opened in the corner of the screen, and she blinked at it as her heart accelerated. As letters appeared—letters that were not typed by her hand—she could only stare in horror.
Hi Norah!
Someone had gained access to her computer. Her brain couldn’t wrap around this fact. Despite her layers and layers of top-notch security, someone had managed to hack into her heavily protected system. Her hand hovered over the touch pad, unsure if she should engage or do her best to kick out this interloper. They didn’t seem to be attempting to access her data, however, and the cheery greeting—including an exclamation mark—threw her off guard.
Who is this? she typed, even as a large part of her scolded her for her curiosity.
Devon. Nice to meet you.
Her heart was thundering now. Devon? Devon Leifsen? She balled her hands into fists, taking reassurance in the bite of her short nails into her palms. Could it be a prank? Someone pretending to be Devon? The only people who knew she was investigating Devon were Molly and Cara, and neither of them would do something so cruel and pointless. Barney knew, but Norah was willing to bet her laptop that he didn’t have the know-how to hack her computer. In fact, she was reasonably sure he had to have help sending an email.
What are you doing? Her shaking fingers made it hard to type accurately.
Chatting with you! She’d never seen such a sinister smiley face.
No, why did you hack my laptop? The voice in her head was now screaming to shut him down, but she had to know why the skip she was researching had hacked her computer and was sending determinedly cheerful messages. All the happy exclamation points made his comments feel creepily wrong. A threat would’ve felt less menacing.
Because I wanted to introduce myself to the beautiful woman who’s investigating me. *waves* Hi pretty bounty hunter!
Norah’s gaze flew to the dark window for a terrified second before she looked back at the small, circular lens at the top of her laptop screen. He’s not watching you, her brain tried to reassure her. He’s just trying to scare you.
It was working. She was full-on terrified. With trembling fingers, she closed the text box and then shut down her laptop. As soon as the screen went black, she closed the computer and kept her hands pressed against the top, as if to keep Devon from remotely opening it, as impossible as that would be. Her gaze darted around her shadowed room, dark without the light from her laptop screen, and landed on the black window again.
Forcing herself to put the computer aside and slide off the bed, she moved to the window, her heart hitting her ribs so hard it felt as if it’d break out of her chest. The darkness of the room spooked her, but she couldn’t turn on a light, not if he was watching her.
He’s not out there, she tried to convince herself as she drew closer to the glass pane. He’s holed up somewhere miles away, messing with your head from the safety of a friend’s couch.
Even despite the logic of that, and the high likelihood that he was nowhere near her house, the shadows took on a menacing quality. Someone could easily be lurking in the darkness, staring up at her, taking delight in her unsettled fear.
Her breaths came quickly, fogging the glass, and she couldn’t drag her gaze away from the thousand and one possible hiding places right outside her home. Wait—was that a flash of light? She blinked rapidly, but that just made it harder to tell if she’d imagined the glow or not. Her stomach twisted as his typed words ran on repeat in her mind. He could be just a few steps away from her house. If he picked the lock, disabled the alarm, and crept up the stairs, he could be outside her tiny bedroom in mere minutes.
At the thought, her gaze flew to her closed door. Is that creak just the house settling, or did someone take a stealthy step? She went completely still, listening. It felt like the house held its breath along with her. All she could hear was the rapid pattering of her heartbeat in her ears, telling her to run.
But she was trapped in her closet of a bedroom. There was no escape.