As I open my mouth, another sister comes forward, this one dressed in an expensive pinstriped suit.
“Shut up, Bree.” Glaring at the lawyer’s wrinkled attire, she thrusts out her open hand. “Let me see the warrant.”
“Probable cause, miss.” After he flashes her his FBI ID, the scowling Hunt swivels my way. “Get your suspect out of here. Keys in your ignition. I’ll deal with the mob.”
“Thanks.” With one arm around her waist, I lead the exhausted woman to my truck, then lift her into the passenger seat.
“Woof.” My hound climbs into the back, circles once. Convinced all is well, she rests her chin on Briana’s shoulder.
Before I can fire up the engine, Hunt taps on my driver’s side glass. It takes but a second to roll down the window.
“Where you taking her?” he asks.
“My office. I’ll get her statement—keep you in theloop.”
“State’s Attorney wants this zipped up before it affects tourism.” He raps twice on my hood while glancing into the back seat. “Want me to take Becca home?”
“Yeah, thanks.” Soon, my pickup bounces over the dirt road. Once the circus fades in the rearview mirror, Briana slumps down, eyelids drooping.
“Am I under arrest?” Her earlier spark faded, she frowns at her bound wrists.
This soft, vulnerable side tugs at my DNA, triggering a protective instinct I can’t explain. Pulling to the curb, I cut her loose.
“I’m not arresting you. It was all for show.” Tamping down a primal need to hold her, I steady my voice. “On one condition.”
“What is it?” Heat in her eyes, her tongue flicks over her lower lip.
Oh damn, not that, babe.“After I take you to urgent care, you answer all my questions. No arguments.”
“If I promise not to die, can we skip the doctor? You can ask me anything. I won’t give you any grief.”
“And pigs fly.”
When she doesn’t shoot back a snappy comeback, I glance over the cup holder. No surprise—she’s sawing logs. If half of what she said is true, she’s had one hell of a week.
Miles later, I pull into the ER lot at UVM’s Medical Center. After I turn off the ignition, it takes her a few seconds to wake up.
Even caked in grime, she’s gorgeous.
A stretch, a yawn, then she scowls at the hospital sign. “Ah, come on now, Sheriff. We agreed—”
“The feds will cover the cost. You said you fought with the killer. Hair, skin—anything could help us identify him.”
“Oh shit, I almost forgot.” Eyes widening, she digs into her pocket, pulls out a dart, then shoves it in front of my face. “See? I wasn’t lying.”
My mind spins as I reach long to pop open the glove compartment where I keep the plastic bags. “Why didn’t you show me earlier?”
Prickly armor back in place, she juts out her chin. “Lack of sleep, drugs, being stalked by a killer. Pick one.”
Not wanting yet another argument, I lock up the evidence, trot around the vehicle, then hold out my hand. “Ready?”
“Yeah. Whatever.”
As we wait for an available doctor, the pilot who once saved my life shakes her head. “I can understand a crazy stalker going after a lone hiker in the woods, but killing Brett makes no sense. What was he doing there?”
“The FBI’s going to say you were so incensed by his cheating, you shot him.”
“Right. Then I hired some stalker to hunt me—ya know, to build an alibi? I’m a fucking genius.” When she catches my eye, we both chuckle.
