Trace’s boss, the rotund but always-competent Sheriff Stewart, hurried over, pulling his phone from his ear. “We’ve got a report, some kinda chase situation out on Sunset. Suspect’s black Ram pickup appeared to be pursuing an older silver Camry as it fled the scene of a motorcycle wreck. Accomplice, maybe? Anyway, you take Jill and head out that way. I’ll have the dispatcher contact you with more info as it comes in.”
“Take my—take Jill?” Trace’s stomach dropped as his gaze cut toward the tall, uniformed woman now sorting out the witnesses, her sleek wheat-colored ponytail hanging halfway down her back. Not her. Not now. He wasn’t ready for this. What was she even doing working his shift today?
“Yeah. Her unit’s in the shop, and all our reserve cars—you know our budget issues. She’s been playing chauffeur for me today, but I can drive myself.”
“Yes, sir,” Trace said, because it was the only possible answer. He wasn’t about to hold up something this urgent simply because he dreaded riding with his ex-wife. They were both professionals, so they could suck it up and do their duty.
“We’ll see if we can track down this Sawyer fella’s plates and put out a BOLO on him,” the sheriff said.
“That’d be great.” A “Be On the Lookout” alert to all surrounding counties could easily result in a quick capture—and less time on the road with a woman who despised him.
A woman he would do anything to go back in time with to undo his mistakes.
* * *
“W HAT IF I picked wrong?” Lisa asked Cole for the third time as they sped toward the tiny town of Coffee Creek.
He had no idea how to answer, since all the what-ifs were eating him alive, too. That, and the undeniable fact that dusk was staking its claim. If they didn’t catch a break by nightfall...
“No more,” he said firmly. “We both agreed they’d be more worried about getting caught on the interstate than making time.”
She took a deep breath, clearly making an effort to pull herself together. He had admire how well she succeeded, how even under these horrific circumstances she was able to push past pain and panic, and do what needed to be done.
“We should stop in town. Ask around to see if anyone has seen them,” she suggested, looking stronger than she had looked earlier. Stronger than any woman should ever have to be.
He nodded his agreement. “We ought to fuel up anyway, pick up a couple things in case we’re on the road longer than we think.”
She hesitated before erupting. “I can’t stand this worrying and wondering if every tiny decision is the wrong one. If I should have stayed and talked to the authorities instead of dragging you out here, running off in what might be the wrong— Stop, Cole! Pull over here, quick.”
He looked where she was staring, into the unmown ditch in front of a fenced pastureland dotted with live oaks. Something was moving down there, too low for him to see.
As he skidded to a stop some thirty feet beyond it, he prayed he wasn’t seeing what he was afraid of. That the abductors hadn’t tossed a living child from a speeding car. He threw the truck in gear and bailed out, intent on beating Lisa to what might be a horrific sight, his instincts demanding that he protect her from it.
Despite her injuries, she was out of the truck and running before he was, calling, “Come on, sweetie! It’s okay. Come to Mama!”
She dropped to her knees as a little blond dog emerged from the tall grasses, yelping and wagging furiously as he limped toward her on three legs.
“It’s Rowdy,” Lisa cried, trying to fend off the animal’s frantic kisses. “They must have dumped him out here. Do you know what that means? We’ve been driving in the right direction after all.”
But as reassuring as that thought was, Cole was already running along the roadside, looking for any sign that the abductors, in their haste to rid themselves of their burdens, might have dumped a child, too.
Lisa quickly caught on, staggering after him and shouting, “Tyler! Tyler! I’m here!”
There was no reply, only the whisper of an evening breeze through the grasses and the screech of a red-tailed hawk in the distance.
They searched frantically, kicking through weeds and climbing down into the ditch, stopping periodically to call again, then listen. They found no sign of Tyler, not a toy or shoe or shirt. And not, thank heaven, his small corpse, which made Cole wonder if the boy’s abductors had decided they wanted to hang on to him for some reason. Maybe to hold him for ransom, or as a hostage in case they were caught, or, God forbid, for some darker purpose. One tiny, optimistic corner of Cole’s psyche held out a dim hope that maybe the female captor had buried maternal instincts and planned to keep Tyler for herself. Then, at least, he would remain safe long enough to be found.
A few yards distant, Lisa abruptly stiffened, then looked down at her dog. “Where’s Tyler, Rowdy?” she asked, her strained voice pitching higher. “Where is he? Where’s Tyler? Hide-and-seek, boy.”
The little dog’s ears pricked up, and he spun in circles barking. When she tried a second time, he did the same.
She shook her head, her face moon-pale with strain. And dangerously appealing, with the breeze ruffling the soft waves that framed it. Waves bronzed by the slanting gold rays of a dying Texas sun. “It’s no use. Tyler isn’t here, Cole. If he were, Rowdy would take us to him. If I’d been halfway thinking, I would have tried that stupid game the second we found Rowdy.”
“Well, I’m glad you did think of it, no matter when.” And gladder still he didn’t lead us to a body. “Now we can get to the gas station and find out if someone saw where they went. Then we’ll call the authorities so they can get an AMBER Alert going and apply some real manpower to getting your son back safely.”
It would also be smart, he knew, to explain what had happened and maybe extricate himself before she found out what his connection to her was. And if he got out in a timely manner, maybe there was some chance of coming through this without totally derailing the career change he had already given up the best friends he would ever have in this lifetime, along with his retired army colonel father’s respect, to pursue.
As they reached the passenger side of his truck, Lisa skewered him with a look. “Of course I want the AMBER Alert. But you’re thinking about stopping, aren’t you? About getting out of this mess and leaving Tyler out there somewhere.”
He was stunned by her perceptiveness, or was he just that transparent? “It might be in your son’s best interest if we handed this over to the professionals.”
“You mean in your best interest, don’t you?” A fierce light blazed in her brown eyes. “You’ll get to walk away from all this, go back to your cozy house and have a beer or hang out with your girlfriend and forget it. But I wonder, will you tell her how you were the one who started shooting and got my child kidnapped? The one who shot a woman with nothing but an unloaded weapon in her hand?”
Her accusations kicked his conscience, but they were far from the whole story. “First off, there’s no girlfriend and not enough beer in the damned world to forget this. And how the hell was I to know that gun in your hand wasn’t loaded? If you have to blame somebody, you might as well blame yourself for pointing it at me.”
“You startled me—or that woman at the bank did, yelling about you going for a weapon. I never meant to point the gun. Never wanted to hurt anyone or do anything but get out of that bank and buy my child’s freedom.”
Cole blew out a deep breath, forcing himself to consider the possibility that despite her tears and the fact that the dog had clearly been dumped, she could still be lying. Over the course of his career, some of the most impassioned pleas and speeches he’d ever heard were given by skilled deceivers out to manipulate the listener’s emotions. Out to exploit another