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The police car slowly rolled around the bend in the driveway. Quint held on to Katelynn and took her into the cabin, supporting her all the way to the couch.
She sagged onto the cushion. He studied her. She'd held steady through the official questions surrounding Cord Miller's disappearance.
When Katelynn opened her mouth and had gone along with the bogus story about starting a relationship with him, he'd chosen that moment to step into the questioning and validate her statement by confessing he'd fallen in love with her and helped move her into his cabin over two weeks ago.
She leaned over, bracing her elbows on her knees, and cradled her head in her hands. "Do you think they believed me?"
"I think they listened." He walked over and took the whiskey out of the cabinet, poured two glasses, and returned to her. "Drink this. It'll help."
He tipped back the glass, letting the warmth slide down his throat and take the edge off. Any number of things could've gone wrong as the police officer asked them question after question regarding Cord Miller's disappearance.
His chest tightened. He'd learned Gil Miller reported Cord missing earlier that morning. Cord's brother hadn't even waited twenty-four hours.
"When's the last time you seen Gil Miller?" He sat down on the couch beside her.
"I don't know." She rubbed her eyes. "He lives...lived with Cord, but he was gone a lot, too. He always seemed to pop in at the house, stay a few days, and then leave for a couple days to a week before coming back. Most of the time if he was there, I stayed in the spare bedroom because there was a lock on the door. If I was in the kitchen and he came home, I ignored him."
"You left Cord and came here three days ago." He exhaled. "There are two days that you were gone when Cord could've told Gil you'd stolen the trailer and left him. Gil probably helped Cord search for you during that time."
"Oh, God." She turned her head without letting go of the hair she fisted. "I told the policeman it'd been almost three weeks since I'd seen Cord."
"Don't panic yet." Quint pulled out his phone.
She sat straighter. "What are you doing?"
"Texting some friends to come here to help me." He sent the non-descript message to Will, Mark, and Anders, knowing they'd come without reason.
"More people know what I've done?" She picked up the drink off the coffee table and drank.
He grabbed her wrist and removed the tumbler at the same time she coughed and bent over trying to catch her breath.
"Breathe through it." He rubbed her back, knowing the discomfort would be eased by the alcohol.
Whether she'd been aware he'd handed her whiskey or she'd never had it before, she drank enough to make her head spin.
"Oh, God." She exhaled harshly, coughing again. "What was that?"
"Whiskey." He stopped touching her. "Trust me, it'll help you in the long run. Next time, sip it."
He lifted his glass and not taking his own advice, downed two swallows. The warmth eased the pressure in his chest and the pounding in his head. During the interrogation, he realized he needed someone to back up their story. It was Gil Miller's word against theirs, and if it went further, he'd need the others to come up with a valid story confirming his statement their relationship began before Cord Miller disappeared. Since Cord wasn't around to give his side, the police would have to validate their stories.
He needed witnesses who would lie, if questioned, and tell the authorities he and Katelynn were in a relationship for three weeks.
"It's going to be all right. We just need to lay low and let the police believe we're together." He tilted his head, looking at her face. "I've parked your truck behind headquarters, so the story is authentic."
She no longer shook and stared glossy eyed at the drink in her hand. Thankfully, he'd dealt with the stolen trailer before the cops came to the campground and had returned only moments before the patrol car rolled in.
"Did you eat breakfast?" He had a feeling she hadn't consumed any food during the two days she spent in the trailer after finding expired food and no garbage.
She shook her head. "I can't."
Can't or won't, she needed to keep up her strength. He walked into the kitchen area and found she'd put the food he'd fixed earlier away. Quickly heating a homemade breakfast sandwich with egg, bacon, and muffin, in the microwave, he carried the plate to her.
"Eat up." He sat beside her and took the whiskey away from her.
She hadn't consumed anymore after the initial drink. Compared to him, she was a tiny thing. It wouldn't take much alcohol to lay her out.
"I'm not hungry." She looked up at him. "My stomach is warm."
"Yeah, that's the whiskey. Put some food in it before you find out what it feels like when the whiskey comes out." He nodded at the plate. "Go on."
"I don't drink." She stuck out her lower lip. "Ever. Even though I'm twenty-five years old."
"Okay." He pushed the plate toward her, not caring what her age had to do with anything. "I'm going to need to get back to the campground, and I want to make sure you've had food in your stomach, so take a bite."
She attacked the filled muffin, ripping a bite out of it as if to spite him.
He needed to take off and wanted to make sure she wasn't going to get sick when he was gone. The more vulnerable she became, the less he trusted her judgment. She'd kept her head earlier while the policeman was here, but lying hadn't come easily to her. He didn't want her going off half-cocked or feeling sorry for herself and doing something stupid like calling 911 and confessing to a crime while he was away.
Her biggest struggle would be fighting herself. No matter how she was raised or had lived her life up to the point of killing Cord, the line hovering between right and wrong was branded in her head.
"This is good," she said between bites.
At least the whiskey had done the trick and lessened the tight band of worry from around her middle. Getting some food in her stomach would also help her think more rationally.
He dropped his gaze to her feet. She wore a pair of the shoes he'd given her from the Lost & Found bin at headquarters.
If she was twenty-five years old, she had a lot of years left to turn her life around. That gave him hope that she wouldn't back out of their agreement.
"Are you going to be okay, until I get back?" he asked.
She nodded. "I'm fine."
She wasn't fine, but he'd take that. Standing up, he walked to the door. "I'll be back around six o'clock."
She nodded, her mouth full of the last bite of sandwich. He stepped outside and inhaled deeply. Taking the extra time, he lit a cigarette. There would be questions from his employees about why the police came looking. The memory of the employee murdered last summer fresh on everyone's mind as they began the camping season.
"Jesus Christ," he mumbled on an exhale, blowing smoke above his head. Could things get worse?
He looked around his place. He'd built it away from the campground and up next to the mountain because the area gave him security. Nobody could approach the house without going through the campground first or scaling down the mountainside. Even the trail behind his cabin was hidden. Nobody but Anders, Will and Mark knew the path was there.
Katelynn would be safe if she stayed. She had to stay. If she left, all his problems would snowball into a situation bigger than he and the others could handle.