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  No. He needed to wait until an officer relieved him at the scene or until Detective Wilcox showed up. So Conroy could drive her back, not Savannah.

  And he needed her to talk.

  “It doesn’t matter.” She lifted her chin. “I’m not going to put anyone here in danger, okay? I’ll make sure of it. I’ll even promise you that no one will come to harm. Your precious town and all the people here will be fine.”

  Her words were biting, but he saw the pain she was in around her strained jaw and in her eyes.

  He wanted to tug her close and give her a hug. Not the way he’d treated her as a kid, part nuisance and part cute, younger sibling of his girlfriend. This was something entirely different, and it seemed to have come out of nowhere.

  A black and white Last Chance County police car pulled up. The officer who got out was male and had been on the job a long time—which was fine with Conroy since he was very good at his job. Basuto just didn’t know that Conroy planned to get him to take the Sergeant’s exam soon.

  “Lieutenant.” His officer was five-seven, but only barely. Dark complexion, dark eyebrows, and dark hair. But Zander had the brightest smile, and he was quick to use it. Conroy had seen him charm kids in the most terrifying of situations and have them laughing at one of his jokes five minutes later.

  Conroy motioned to the body, not willing to move away from Mia. She would see that as her being released to leave. “Over there, Officer Basuto. This is ATF Special Agent Mia Tathers.”

  “Rich’s daughter?”

  She shifted to glance at his officer. “Is that a good thing?”

  “Why wouldn’t it be?” He stuck his hand out. “Zander.”

  “Mia.”

  Conroy said, “You should start processing the scene.”

  Basuto snapped to attention. “Yes, boss.”

  Conroy didn’t laugh. Mia coughed to cover her chuckle. They went over the scene and checked the guy’s ID, which was in his pocket in a wallet stuffed full of old receipts. “Ed Summers’s boy. Tyler Lane.”

  Mia frowned down at the body. A movement alerted her peripheral. She snapped out of it and glanced past Conroy’s shoulder. Her expression changed. “Hey, Savannah.”

  “Mia.”

  Good. Wilcox was here. “Basuto, Wilcox, you guys process this scene. I’m going to take Mia back to her dad’s house.”

  Only that wasn’t exactly a safe place for her to be alone. And it seemed to occur to her also.

  He wanted to hold her hand but instead put his hand on her jacket over the small of her back to lead her away from Basuto—who looked amused—and Wilcox—who frowned.

  “Keep me posted.” He waited for Wilcox to say something. “Detective?”

  “Yes, Lieutenant. I’ll keep you posted.”

  He led Mia away from the scene.

  She twisted and bolted away from him. Conroy spun around. “What—”

  “Stop! Police!” She screamed the words as she raced across the grass, leaving footprints in the frost.

  Conroy tore after her.

  His head pounded, but he pumped his arms and legs and prayed he didn’t slip. Most of the time he was a capable guy. Pretty adept at handling just about any situation. But when it counted, he called on God to kick in. Like now, when losing his footing and landing on the cold, hard ground would be a bad thing—bad for either of them. Both had enough injuries already.

  The man ahead of her raced toward a car. He’d been between two trees, hiding and watching them. Blue jacket, hood up. Conroy hadn’t thought it was malicious. He also didn’t know the guy, but could admit he hadn’t gotten a good look at him either.

  Mia gained ground.

  Was it the killer?

  She stumbled and her knee went down. He gasped, moving too fast to ask if she was all right. Of course he wanted to help, but she would want him to keep going and catch the guy.

  But her stumble had cost her ground. The man ahead of her ran, faster than either Conroy or Mia. They weren’t going to catch him. He headed for a beat-up, sea green, compact car on the side of the road, climbed in, and roared the engine to life. A cold engine. It whined as he revved it up and sped away.

  Conroy studied the license plate and got the first three characters.

  He turned back, reciting them out loud so he would remember, and got to Mia in time to hold out his hand and help her up. She clasped his wrist, not his hand, and stood. “Thanks.”

  He recited the first three characters of the license plate.

  She said the last three.

  Conroy’s eyebrows rose.

  Mia said, “Everyone reads right to left. So with license plates, I trained myself to look at the right first and work my way backward. That way if someone gets half, then I get the other half.” She smiled. “Like right now.”

  “I don’t know what to say.” He was proud of her. That was really smart, considering she was absolutely right. She’d taken steps to fill in the gaps. “Your team probably sees you as a serious asset.”

  A frown darkened her expression.

  “They don’t?”

  “No one has ever really reacted to something I did. Not the way you do.” She went to say more but shut her mouth and shook her head. “Most of the time it’s completely infuriating when you go all ‘cop’ over a situation I can handle. The rest of the time it’s nice.”

  “You’re welcome. I think.” He chuckled, hoping she would too.

  He got a smile.

  “Was that him?”

  She frowned. “I don’t know who that was. That man was a stranger.”

  “So what made you chase him?”

  She opened her mouth, then closed it again.

  “Cop instinct, otherwise known as your gut.”

  “Intuition.” She nodded. “Thanks, that is what it is.”

  But she wasn’t used to anyone understanding when she reacted like that?

  She turned and headed back toward Wilcox. Conroy fell into step beside her. “I’ll have my officer go grab the vehicle. Then I can get you somewhere you can sit down.”

  She winced. Yes, he’d noticed the slight hitch in her stride. She’d landed on her knee on the hard winter ground. They both needed about a week or two of recovery time to get back to being fighting fit.

  “How about somewhere we can run that license plate?”

  He glanced aside at her. “You wanna hang out at the police station?”

  She shrugged.

  Was she scared to go home? He’d thought as much. Just as he’d considered alternatives, like the town’s bed and breakfast. Or his house.

  Nope.

  The temptation to pull her in for a hug—or something else—wanted to override his good judgment. He was the police lieutenant, the ranking officer in town. She was a victim as well as a federal agent. There was no way he should go there.

  And even if he did, she wouldn’t even be thinking about that. He would end up blindsiding her and then things would get all weird. She didn’t forgive him. She’d said as much. She also didn’t trust him, at least any further than his badge would go.

  Cop to cop, he figured they could work together. Personally? That was another thing altogether on her part.

  Cop to cop, she seriously intrigued him. Personally she could say the same. The preteen girl he knew from years past had grown up into a capable woman he respected.

  Could he show her he was worth the chance she would be taking on him? It would have to start with trust. Personal, real trust. Then she would have to forgive him for his part in her sister’s death. Which was, far and away, easier said than done.

  He had no doubt she would be worth the chance of being shot down.

  He’d have to tread carefully, though, and sacrifice a whole lot of pride. If it worked, then the gain could overwhelmingly outweigh the cost of convincing her he was worth staying in town for. A place she’d left as soon as she could. What would it take to persuade her to stick around this time?

  “We’ll find s
omewhere you can go to hang out.” He tugged on her good arm before they got within earshot of Wilcox and his officer. “Are you worried about this guy?”

  “If there’s something to be worried about, then yes. Otherwise, no.”

  Logical, but not exactly decisive. She was reserving judgment.

  Mia gave him a smile and rolled her eyes. “After always jumping in because of my gut, I’m stepping carefully on this one.”

  “Officer Basuto!”

  Mia jumped. Zander straightened, a camera in one hand. “Lieutenant?”

  Conroy tossed the guy his keys. “My car is a mile up that way.” He pointed. “Please retrieve it for me.”

  “Sure, boss.” He reached up over his head. “My back is aching from photos.” Basuto handed off the camera and set off at a jog. Definitely going to be taking the sergeant’s exam soon.

  “You okay, Mia?” Wilcox had wandered over.

  Mia jerked around. So deep in thought she hadn’t noticed Savannah was right there. “Hey.”

  “Okay?” Wilcox’s blue gaze flashed to him, and then back at Mia.

  Conroy didn’t have the chance to reassure her. Mia wasn’t fine, but she would be if he had anything to do with it.

  “Sure.” Mia shrugged. “I just need to take more meds. For my arm.” She hugged it to her front again.

  “Get her home, Lieutenant.” Wilcox took a step back. “Or I’ll think that you don’t trust me to work a murder scene.”

  “You qualified to make that call, Detective?”

  “You can read all about my findings in my report, Lieutenant.” She waved at Mia. “Get her somewhere she can take her meds and get some rest.”

  Mia twisted to the detective. “I was kind of hoping you’d let me hang at your place.”

  Conroy was about to offer some kind of response when Wilcox cut him off. “My place is a little crowded. And the natives are rowdy. You’d be better off at Conroy’s.” She twisted to face him. “Actually that’s a great idea. Grab her stuff and park her at your place.”

  He stared down at the tiny, blonde detective. Wilcox only smiled that knowing, crafty smile. “It’s a great idea.”

  “Oh, well…”

  That was all Mia had to say? He cleared his throat. “My place is fine. I have a guest room if you want to take a nap.”

  Maybe since she’d spent a couple of nights at her house since the intruder, and those were without incident, she would prefer to head home.

  Conroy studied her. “What do you think?”

  She turned to him with a smile. He didn’t believe she meant it in the slightest. “Sure, your guest room sounds good.”

  “Everything is going to be fine.”

  “He’s right,” Wilcox said. “We’ll catch the guy who did this, and the guy who broke into your house. If it’s the same guy, then great. Only one man to find—” She clapped her hands together and Mia jumped a little. “—and case closed.”

  Basuto pulled up in Conroy’s police vehicle. He left the engine running.

  “Let’s go.”

  Mia moved with him. But Conroy couldn’t shake the feeling that she was walking to her death.

  And she knew it.

  Twelve

  He didn’t let her drive. Then again, she didn’t expect to. Mia squeezed her eyes shut and tried to push away the errant thoughts.

  “Have you thought about calling in?” Conroy shoved the car in park outside her dad’s house.

  She half expected her dad to be back. Called home by some previously unexplored fatherly instinct that let him know she was in trouble. Then she realized that was just ridiculous, and she wasn’t sure why she cared where on earth her dad was.

  “Mia?”

  “Huh?” She twisted to him. Her arm hurt. Her knee ached. She needed coffee something fierce and probably some sort of comfort food like chili and a baked potato. Something hearty that would sustain her, a meal that weather like this just seemed made for. Frosty trees, and low gray skies.

  “You’re miles away.” He cracked his door. “Let’s get you inside. You can pack a bag and get your meds.”

  “You know, you could be the one packing a bag.”

  “I have a guest room. And this place—” He pointed through the window at the house. “—is where he found you. That’s not going to happen at mine, where I have an extensive security system.”

  “Nowhere is impenetrable.”

  “That’s true. But we go where the odds of survival are best.”

  Mia pressed her lips together.

  “Did you call your team lead, or someone else you work with? They probably need to know you’re in danger, and that it’s connected to one of your previous cases. The death’s been escalated to murder now. We need to—”

  Mia got out of the car. She rounded the hood and strode toward the side path where Daisy had run at her. She held her arm to her front. Probably should have accepted the sling.

  “Hello!”

  She saw the little girl coming. Pig tails. Her mom trailed behind her, walking fast with long strides while the girl raced toward Mia holding a plastic food storage container.

  “Mands!” The mom didn’t exactly sound scolding, just exasperated.

  “She’s home, Mama. We have to do it now.” The little girl stopped in front of Mia, cheeks flushed red. “These are for you. Because Daisy bit you.” She held the container out and tears filled her eyes.

  “We’re all very sorry about that.” Though, it seemed Mom didn’t exactly mean it. “I’m Rebecca, and this is Amanda. We know your dad, and we like him.”

  “Grandpa Rich gives me caramels and—” The little girl gasped. She whirled around to her mother. “Uh…”

  Rebecca grinned, but it was shaky. “You’re fine, Mands.” The mom lifted a paper. “The kids also drew you this.”

  Mia was still stuck on Grandpa Rich.

  Conroy leaned in front of Mia to take hold of the container and artwork. “Thank you, Amanda.”

  She basically curtseyed, beaming under the full force of Conroy Barnes’s smile. “You’re welcome, Mr. Conroy.” The girl glanced between him and Mia. “But they’re for Miss Mia.”

  He grinned. Both the women, mom and daughter, practically swooned. “I know.” He glanced at her, then said, “Miss Mia says, ‘thank you.’”

  The little girl frowned. “Does she hate us because Daisy bit her?”

  Conroy shook his head. Before he could say something, she cut in.

  “No.”

  The little girl flinched, and Mia realized she’d been too loud.

  “Sorry.” Mia continued, “I know Daisy was sick. It wasn’t her fault, and it wasn’t any of yours.” She paused. “I hope she’ll get better.”

  “She is.” Rebecca nodded.

  Amanda said, “She woke up, and mom says we can see her tomorrow.”

  “That’s great. Thanks.”

  Before she got dragged into any more conversation, when she should be taking meds she was due to take an hour ago, Mia headed for the front door and let herself inside.

  There was a hitch of breath as she realized someone could be inside. Then her brain decided it was more likely the inside would’ve been ransacked if that was the case. The house was quiet. Everything looked like it was where it should be.

  She still entered slowly.

  Conroy strolled by her, all the way to the kitchen. He set the container on the counter. “Water or milk?”

  “Milk.” She got the meds from her backpack, one handed.

  He stood in front of her, a concerned look on his face.

  “You really need to stop doing that.” She set the pill on her tongue and swallowed half the glass of milk.

  “Doing what?”

  She took another drink to make sure she’d gotten it down. Then she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Caring.”

  Mia swiped up her duffel and walked to the bedroom. He stood in the doorway while she grabbed a few things, averting his gaze when those t
hings got personal. Bathroom stuff. A towel. Did he even have good towels, or was he a bachelor at home?

  She glanced aside at him, in the bathroom now. The man dressed well. That could not be denied. He leaned against the wall in the hallway. Most people would have their phone out right now. They’d preoccupy themselves because nothing else was going on. Outsourcing their brains to an electronic device designed to illicit an addiction in the user.

  For the most part, ATF agents stayed clear of social media. No one needed their face out there for bad guys to see. On top of that were the ways she’d seen it used and abused. People were torn apart and hurt every day online. The whole thing left a bad taste in her mouth, except that she could deposit a check in her bank account using her phone. And see what the weather was whenever she wanted.

  “Ready?” He gave her a small smile.

  She sighed and looked through her bag one last time, thinking about how these last few days had really turned things upside down for her. He had to be feeling as she did right now, namely that this whole situation between them was bizarre. He’d dated her sister back in the day. His actions, or lack thereof, had caused Mara’s death. Mia had shown the information to her friend at the DA’s office in Seattle. Her friend only explained about the conviction, the time Ed had served. And the inner workings of a local town police department. Like she hadn’t already known about that.

  Now Mia was the one in danger. She knew the reality she faced all too well. And Conroy seemed to understand this reality, too.

  He was determined to make it okay for her. So determined that after they left her dad’s place, he took her to his house. His extremely nice three-story condo in the middle of what appeared to be urban development, close to the ski area north of town where the snow never really melted until April. Not too close to town, and not technically within city limits. She wasn’t going to lie—it made her feel taken care of. He parked her in his guest room and even offered to make dinner.

  Mia said, “Only if I can help.”

  Conroy hauled out fixings for a salad and set them on the counter in front of her. He pulled a package of chicken from the refrigerator drawer and tossed it in a glass dish.

  “This is a really nice house.”

  He looked up, hands full of paper towels he was using to pat the chicken dry. “Thanks.”