The Girl in the Mist (Misted Pines 1)

“I have—”

“I know. That Cuban told me you’re covered with all that tech crap, but also, he’s got the Bohannans looking after you. You’ve still got no business going out on your own.”

I felt a tingling at my lower back. It was urging me to do things I might regret, like stand and tell the local sheriff to go fuck himself before I walked out.

I did not know Hawk Delgado’s ethnicity.

I did know he had a name.

That was one.

Two, I was an adult who, in the course of my life, had no small amount of attention from people who had, in some cases, rather severe issues with their perceptions of me. Thus, they acted on them.

I was also an adult who participated fully not only with the FBI, but my hand-selected security team, deciding what was best with the utmost goal being to keep me safe.

But also, there were no guarantees this person who was currently making two women’s lives a living hell would be caught anytime soon. And even though those women’s lives had been horrifically derailed, I was fortunate enough to have mine, in large part, free to live.

As such, I had worked with my team to make certain I could live it, even if I did so under the cloud of unsuccessfully attempting to bend my brain into taking no responsibility for the horrors a man I’d never met was perpetrating on two women who would, even if rescued, never recover.

Delgado told me he would, on regular occasions, either come himself or send members of his team to make certain the plans that were made and carried out were still effective.

In the interim, I had locals he trusted looking out for me, but he didn’t want me to know who they were.

There was sound reasoning for this.

That being, if something got through their net, and someone was watching me, he didn’t want them to see I had someone at my back. And even knowing I shouldn’t do a thing to let this information be known, unconsciously, I could communicate it. That would put me in danger, because it would give my stalker a target to take down my shield before he took me.

Unless I didn’t know who was watching me.

Now, I knew who was watching me.

The Bohannans.

“I’m calling Jace,” Dern announced, reaching for the phone.

“Please don’t do that.”

He ignored me.

“I said, don’t do that.”

The receiver of his desk phone was in his hand, but he did not mean he’d call Jace.

After punching a button, he barked into it, “Polly, get Jace on the line.”

The man couldn’t even make his own phone call.

“Jace is probably outside right now,” I informed him after he put down the receiver.

“What?” he snapped.

“I was not meant to know who my local detail was. Was that not communicated to you?”

He stared at me, befuddled again.

I sought patience, and as I had practice doing this in my life, what with the two men I chose to marry, and a lot of other men besides, I found it.

“I know you have quite a bit on your plate, Sheriff Dern, but my understanding from Mr. Delgado was that he’d explained all this to you. Personally.”

He threw his chest out. “I do got a lot on my plate.”

Right now, he did.

But this was explained to him before Alice got carried away in the woods.

If I was not wrong, prior to Alice, his department’s main objective was to make certain the senior citizens didn’t get too rowdy during bingo at the rec center.

An old-fashioned intercom sitting on his desk chirped with Polly’s voice.

“Leland, Hawk Delgado’s on the line for you.”

It was good to know Jace knew what he was doing.

I was relatively certain I did not smirk, but I looked at my lap anyway, just in case.

I heard the receiver snatched up and the click of a button being pushed and then, “Yeah?” Pause then, “I know. I know.”

He did not know.

A longer pause and then, “Listen, don’t you—” A pregnant pause and a clipped, “Understood.”

The receiver crashed in the cradle.

It had been a long time, but I was an award-winning actress, therefore I had the appropriate expression on my face when I lifted my head again.

“I got things to do, Ms. Larue, and it seems like you got yourself covered, so can you tell me what you’re doin’ here?” he commanded.

I could and I did.

“I would like…anonymously…to offer a ten-thousand-dollar reward to anyone who provides information that leads your department, or anyone working with your department, to find Alice Pulaski. And if that information leads you directly to her, that reward will be one hundred thousand dollars.”

His face went slack.

“I understand when you announce something like this, everyone will be calling. You probably have limited resources. So, if this is deemed necessary, I will be happy to pay for a phone bank to be set up to take those calls.” It was difficult to say this next, but since it was also smart, and I hoped in the end, helpful, I said it, “It’s probably better if trained personnel take these calls, rather than volunteers, which could mean a task force is needed and likely, overtime for your staff. So, I’ll make a further one-hundred-thousand-dollar donation to your department to cover that.”