Chapter 23
“No proof yet,” Bobby Reynolds said. “But the new wife says the ex would be more than capable of something like that.”
Spence’s jaw tightened as he listened to the officer’s blunt statement.
Reynolds was one of the most senior members of the Shelby Police Department, and while he was a bit stiffly by-the-book, he took any crime that happened in or near his town very seriously.
And when it was as serious as this was, he dug in.
He might not be the most sympathetic guy around—probably ran out of that years ago, Spence thought—but you could depend on him to find what needed to be found, no matter how long it took.
“They’re trying to track her down now,” Reynolds said, running a hand over his short, light brown hair, “but she’s apparently out of town and no one seems to know where.”
“Convenient,” Spence muttered with a grimace.
“My thought exactly. They’ll keep on it. And if they don’t, I will.”
“What about the shooter himself?”
“I sent copies of the sketch to all the departments in the area both of your clients and where the ex is—as far as we know—living, to see if anyone recognizes him. In the meantime, everybody here is on the lookout. We’ll be talking to anybody who even has the same shoe size, I swear.”
Spence knew they’d found some tracks up at the scene because they’d come to look at his hiking boots, to check the sole pattern to eliminate them from the search.
They’d also verified his guess on the caliber of the rifle, having found the spent bullet in the tree he’d directed them to.
He decided then to go ahead and share his theory, even though it was nothing more than just that, a theory.
“My gut says he’s a city guy, but I have no proof of that,” Spence said.
“Just the way he moved. He made more noise than somebody familiar with the woods and hills would make, so I was thinking he was used to having more noise to cover him, like in a city. Or maybe he wasn’t used to a lot of tree branches moving around him. ”
Reynolds’s gaze turned inward, considerately, then he nodded. “It makes sense.”
Encouraged, Spence went on. “And he was either trying to miss, is a lousy shot or not used to that rifle. Thankfully.”
“More used to handguns in that city of his?” Reynolds asked.
It didn’t seem to be a jab, but still Spence said only a cautious, “Maybe. Like I said, no proof, just speculation.”
“But the speculation of someone who does know how to move in the backcountry.” A slight smile curved Reynolds’s mouth, and a glint of amusement showed in his brown eyes. “And someone who’s used to carting around people who don’t.”
“That, too,” Spence agreed a bit ruefully.
“I’ll keep you posted if anything turns up.”
And he would, Spence acknowledged when the man left to take a call. As he’d thought earlier, Reynolds was nothing if not dependable. And he tended to take anything that disrupted the peace of his little town kind of personally. They were lucky to have the guy.
As he walked back to his car, glad he’d run into Reynolds because it had saved him trying to track him down, he pondered the revelation of that last realization.
He’d never thought much about such things like Shelby being lucky to have a cop like him.
Or Melissa in the bakery, who, day after day, turned out luscious things like the pecan pies Hetty loved, one of which sat on the passenger seat beside him right now.
Hetty.
That was why he was thinking that way. They’d nearly lost her, so naturally he was thinking that way.
He’d nearly lost her.
He had to suppress the shudder that rippled through him at the thought.
He didn’t know what would happen next, or where they would go from here, but at least he had hope.
That small hope could have been destroyed before it had ever seen the light of day.
If their attacker had been a better shot, she could have died out there.
That night in the cave would never have happened and he would have spent the rest of his life regretting never having told her the truth, and never knowing that her sniping had been as much a cover as his flirting.
As he headed for his folks’ place, a movement above caught his eye.
An eagle, not low and searching the water for dinner, but soaring high, in that way Spence had always thought of as flying for the love of it.
Kind of like Hetty. He’d never doubted she loved what she did, as much as he loved what he did.
Which made them both lucky, he guessed. Loving your work wasn’t something everyone had in life.
And now, maybe they would work on something else not everyone had.
Another kind of love. The kind he saw every day between his mom and dad, his aunt and uncle.
He knew Hetty had seen it, too, in her parents before her father had died.
Had she also doubted she would ever find that kind of bond with someone?
Could they take whatever they’d started in that cave and build on it?
Damn, you’re starting to sound like Lakin, mooning about Troy. When did you become mush?
He knew the answer to his own silent question. He’d turned to mush when he’d found Hetty down and bleeding and thought she was going to die.
He picked up the pace the moment he hit his folks’ long driveway up to the house and parked as close as he could get to the front porch.
When he got inside, he found his mom and Hetty sitting in the great room, laughing at something.
The scene tightened his chest. And when Hetty looked at him with those amazing green eyes, when she saw the pie box he was carrying, with the word pecan scrawled on it, she smiled.
And no matter how much he tried to tell himself it was because he’d gotten the pie she liked, he couldn’t help thinking there was more to it.
More to the way she was looking at him, smiling at him.
Maybe even a foundation.
Let the building begin.
* * *
If it weren’t for the occasional little spike of nerves and the more frequent throb of pain from her leg, Hetty would have enjoyed this evening as much—well, even more, if her little brothers were arguing—as dinner at home with her family.
Being able to ask Ryan Colton about the founding of RTA, and how he and his brother had decided to do it in the first place, the stories of how he and Abby had met in San Diego, was fun.
They’d skipped the gruesome events that had precipitated the move and gone straight to how much they loved their adopted state.
“Alaska’s no place for wusses,” Ryan said, and there was pride in his voice, no doubt at how well and how completely his family had adapted.
“She knows that, Dad,” Spence said, his gaze fastened on her. “All she has to do is look in a mirror.”
“Truer words never spoken,” Abby agreed, but Hetty barely heard her. Spence had taken her breath away, not just with those words but with the way he’d looked at her when he’d said them.
In my arms. At last.
The words he’d said that night when they’d been wrapped around each other under the emergency blanket. Courtesy of that huge, ever-present backpack she would never joke about again.
But tonight all she’d been able to manage was to thank him for the lovely flowers.
And suddenly she was face to face with the downside of staying here in this lovely house, with people who were taking such good care of her.
She couldn’t seem to get a moment alone with Spence.
He didn’t seem particularly concerned about it, and just went on with what probably was, to him, a normal dinner at home with the folks.
It was only when she began to doze off on the couch, in spite of the interesting conversation, that he acted.
“Come on,” he said, taking her hand and jolting her back to alertness. “You need to get some rest.”
Her first instinct, born of years of having to prove herself, was to protest and say she was fine.
But she wasn’t fine, on a couple of fronts, so she tamped down that reaction and let him help her to her feet.
And then startled herself with a sudden wish that he would sweep her up into his arms and carry her, as he had out there in the wild.
She even thought about stumbling, intentionally, to see if he would, but that didn’t seem fair.
Or smart, since his parents were watching and would then think she was weaker than she actually was and hover even more than they already were.
Instead, he handed her the crutches. She grimaced inwardly. But then he said encouragingly, “When your leg’s a little stronger, we’ll try it with you just leaning on me.”
Did he mean that in more than a practical way? Did he mean for her to lean on him in the way a…a girlfriend might?
The moment they were out of sight in the short hallway, she gave into the urge and said, “We need to talk. Don’t we?” She hated that she’d ended with that question and in an edgy-sounding tone.
“That can wait until you’re stronger, too,” he said as he ushered her into the room she was using. Just as she was about to interpret that as avoidance because he’d changed his mind, he leaned in and whispered, “So hurry up, will you?”
And then, to her shock and delight, he backed her up against the wall and kissed her.