Colton's Killer Pursuit

“I have to call my sister back,” he said as he stood there, blocking her way. “And then we need to talk, so can you hang on a second?”

She could. But she wasn’t going to. “No,” she said. “And maybe you should think about talking to me before you call her back,” she said, welcoming the anger that surged in place of fear. Anger felt...stronger. “You helping me might have been your idea, but I agreed to hire you. I’m paying you whether you want me to or not, and you can throw the money away if you wish...”

“We can talk about that later,” he said, sounding a tad bit impatient. His tone didn’t slow the rush of her anger a bit. Something else she noted as odd. Generally, the ire of others calmed her immediately. Like her job was to keep the peace.

She had something much more vital to focus on at the moment, though: her right to direct what happened in her own life.

“I’m not done,” she told him. “I heard what you said in the car and I am going to the party tonight. Even if I have to fire you.” Her gut lurched, knowing she meant the words. Knowing, too, the risk they put her in if he quit on her.

She just needed her own autonomy more.

“I don’t want to fire you. I need your help. But you’ve said that you think Fritz’s killer and whoever is after me could be there tonight. I need this to end. I need to get my life back and I need to be instrumental in doing that.”

“What good is your life going to be to you if you’re dead?”

“About the same as it is if I’m not in control of it.”

His stare was not kind. Or gentle. It was pointed. Searing. She didn’t flinch.

Or back away. In fact, her chin lifted a bit as she glared back at him.

“Are you telling me that you were wrong? That you don’t think the killer will be there tonight?” she asked. “Or that you don’t feel you have a good chance, the quickest chance, of finding out what’s going on, if you’re there?”

“No. But I might have misjudged the danger to you in going to the party,” he said.

“And I might have misjudged the danger to you in hiring you,” she shot back. “I’m like a time bomb and you’re right beside me. If I explode, you could die, too. Or be badly hurt.” It wasn’t like he’d be any more capable of stopping a flying bullet aimed at them than she would.

His gaze softened, and as soon as she knew he relented, she deflated to the point of needing to sit down. She didn’t, of course. She stood her ground as he said, “Fine, we’ll go, but you follow my instructions the entire time or I’m out of there.”

“That’s fair.” She had mentioned how his life was at stake, too, by association with her.

“I need to call my sister. We had a police escort into the garage, with them checking things out before we got here, and they’ll want to arrange the same to and from the party tonight.”

Everleigh secretly felt glad to know he wouldn’t be on his own that night. It had just dawned on her, in the midst of this argument, that by helping her, Clarke really was putting his life in as much danger as hers was. She was also frightened all over again.

“All of this extra-man-hour pay just for me?” she asked. The department owing her for a wrongful conviction was one thing, but two months out of a barmaid’s life wouldn’t amount to the kind of dollars the GGPD had seemed willing to spend on her behalf. People like her didn’t rate attention like that. She wasn’t even sure people like him rated that kind of spending. Grave Gulch was only so big, which meant that the police department had only so many resources. It wasn’t like they were in some big fancy city that could produce extra personnel with just a phone call.

“Yes,” he told her. “The department screwed up and they will make it right for you. It’s bigger than that, too, and they want justice done, but the commitment to see you through to safety came before anyone knew that.”

Bigger. He was referring to his meeting that morning. To the things he hadn’t been able to tell her. But some he had...

“Because of Bowe.”

“Yes. The FBI is involved now.”

“And you’re sure that doesn’t have anything to do with why I’m in danger?”

His shrug might not have been much of an answer, but to Everleigh, the honesty in his reaction provided the reassurance she’d been seeking. “We can’t be sure of anything until we have proof,” he said. “But based on all evidence, there is nothing to point us in the direction of Bowe having targeted you for any particular reason. However, I am actively and diligently looking into any connections between you and others who were either hurt or helped by Randall Bowe.”

She nodded. Satisfied.

And needed to get herself freshened up. It was going to be hard enough to walk into a room of traitors who claimed to love her—and who, she knew, did, but didn’t trust her, people she loved but no longer trusted—without feeling like a used dishrag.

She wanted the filth of Fritz’s bachelor pad off her skin. The scent out of her nose. If only she could wipe him out of the past eighteen years of her life as easily. Except that then she wouldn’t be the woman she’d grown to be. Wouldn’t be as strong. Wouldn’t have spent her life helping to better and brighten the days of those who still lived in the neighborhood where she’d grown up.

In the past two months she’d gotten to know that woman better than she ever had before.

And wouldn’t change who she’d become for anything.