Cate silently accepted it; the weapon felt both foreign and familiar. She hadn’t held a gun in months.
They turned off the flashlights and split up, relying on the moonlight to not trip. Cate, Mike, and Henry edged through the trees, trying to use the dim light to see yet stay out of sight.
Flashes continued near the rock. Each one gave Cate hope that Emma was still breathing. A few tense minutes later, she finally saw Emma. Chris had propped a flashlight that shone on her body. She was on her side on the rock, a gag in her mouth and her hands tied in front of her. Chris was talking to her, but Cate couldn’t make out his words. Emma’s head moved, and her eyes opened but then fell immediately shut. She gave a soft moan.
She must be drugged.
No blood.
The three of them crouched at the two o’clock position. Their view showed Chris from the hips up, blocked by the rock.
“This isn’t good enough,” muttered Cate. “I’m moving to ten o’clock.”
“I’m coming with you,” said Henry.
She glanced at Mike, who nodded. He’d stay.
Henry and Cate continued along the edge of the wood until she estimated they were in a safe position. She couldn’t see Tessa and Bruce. Or Mike.
I think we’re in the right place.
She gestured for Henry to step behind a tree, and she did the same, keeping an eye on Chris. Now she could see all of him.
Chris set his camera on the rock and picked up something.
Cate squinted, trying to make out the shape in the poor light.
“It’s a ligature,” Henry whispered. “He’s going to choke her.”
No.
Cate took an instinctive step toward the rock, and Henry caught her arm. “Wait!” he whispered.
“We’ve got to do something!” she hissed.
“Chris!” shouted Tessa. “It’s Deputies Black and Taylor! Step away from the rock!”
Shock registered on his face, and he dipped down behind the rock, scanning the dark for where the voice had come from.
“Stay back, or she’s dead!” His voice cracked on the last word.
“There’s no reason to hurt her, Chris,” Tessa said calmly. “Step away so we can talk about this.”
Cate swore in the poor light. “Can you see Tessa?” she whispered to Henry as she shifted into a firing stance, her feet spread apart, her right foot slightly back.
“No,” said Henry. “And I think the rock blocks her view of him.”
Don’t make us do anything, Chris.
The weapon had warmed in her hand, matching her body temperature where she touched it. Her breathing slowed as she concentrated on the figure in her sights as he huddled by the rock.
“Just move back,” said Tessa. “You haven’t done anything you can’t undo yet. Don’t make it worse.”
Not quite accurate but should make him pause.
“But she has to go!” shouted Chris.
What?
Cate exchanged a look with Henry, who shook his head.
“Go where?” asked Tessa.
“Just gone. Her daughter needs to be safe.” His voice had changed. He spoke in a higher, more childlike tone.
“Abby is safe. Is that why your mother died?” Tessa asked. “To make you safe?”
“Shut up! Do not speak of her!”
“Abby loves her mother,” said Tessa. “She was very upset when you took her away. She doesn’t have anyone else to take care of her.”
Cate finally spotted Tessa, a shadowy outline slowly coming across the meadow, with the taller Bruce a dozen feet to her right.
Chris was silent.
“I know you don’t want to hurt Emma,” said Tessa. “No one is making you do that. You can stop.”
“I have to.”
“Why? Who does it help?”
“It’s the right thing to do,” he said, looking down at Emma. “But it has to be done correctly. If it’s not done right, things will fall apart.”
His tone still sounded like a ten-year-old’s. Cate had never heard him speak like that, and it was like nails on a chalkboard to her, making the hair lift on her neck.
He’s cracked. At least he can’t choke her quickly with the rope. I can take him down if he tries.
“Who told you that?” asked Tessa. “Was it Jeff?”
Chris jerked, turning in her direction. “Do not talk about him!”
“Okay. But can you tell me why his name upsets you?”
He lowered his eyes, staring at the rope gripped in his hand. “You know nothing about him. He’s a good man.”
“He’s in prison, Chris. Maybe he’s not the right person to look up to.”
“He helped me.” An even younger voice. “He made her stop hurting me.”
Cate closed her eyes, positive that Jeff had been responsible for Chris’s mother’s death.
“I wanted to stop doing what he showed me to do. I tried to stop. I fought it off for a couple years—until now.” Chris touched Emma’s cheek, the ligature dangling from his other hand. “But I don’t think the urge will ever go away.” His voice had almost returned to normal, but he spoke the last line so softly Cate knew Tessa couldn’t hear him.
What is he planning?
“Drop the rope, and take five steps toward me,” said Tessa. “We’ll work this out.”
Good job, Tessa. Make him feel there is hope. That he hasn’t gone too far.
Chris threw down the rope and took three steps away from the rock, his gaze still on Emma.
Cate held her breath. He’s not done. She shifted her weight onto her toes, Chris still lined up in her sights. He turned his head in Tessa’s direction, and Cate wondered if he could see her yet.
“Kneel, and then lie on your stomach,” ordered Tessa.
Chris didn’t move.
He’s going to do something.
He glanced over at Emma on the rock and then back to Tessa, his hands in fists at his sides.
Don’t do it.
He lunged toward the rock and grabbed something near Emma’s feet.
Knife.
He lurched and swung the knife toward Emma’s throat as Cate fired until he dropped.
She froze, echoes of the shots ringing in her ears, and stared at the man collapsed against the rock.
Damn you, Chris.
“Cate.”
Something touched her arm, but she didn’t move, Chris’s body still in her sights.
“Cate.” Suddenly Henry was there, concern in his eyes as she met his gaze, his hands on her shoulders as she lowered her arms.
“I’m okay.”
“I know. I can see that.” His tone didn’t agree with his words; he was worried about her.
She looked past him. Tessa, Mike, and Bruce were at the rock. Tessa attended to Emma, and Bruce handcuffed an unmoving Chris as Mike wrapped his belt around Chris’s arm.
“Go check Emma. And Chris,” she told Henry. “My ears are ringing, but I’m fine.” She exhaled forcefully. “Holy shit. Why did he make me do that?”
“You did the right thing.”
Cate shifted her gaze to Chris’s still form on the ground.
Did I?
She numbly followed Henry to the rock, where Tessa was talking to Emma. “It’s Tessa, Emma. You’re safe. Abby is safe too. Everything is going to be fine,” she repeated over and over.
Emma’s eyes barely focused. Her lips moved but formed no words.
Henry took over. “Her pupils are huge. Pulse and respiration’s okay. I’ll need to know what he gave her.”
“Chris is out,” said Mike. “He’s breathing, and his pulse is steady, but he’s bleeding from the shots—nothing heavy, just seepage.”
Cate bent over to see. Blood soaked Chris’s shoulder and left arm.
He’d lived.
“We need to get them both to the clinic,” said Henry.
“I’m more than happy to leave this place,” muttered Cate as her ears continued to ring. Chris’s blood
dotted the rock and had sprayed over Emma’s shirt. The woman opened her eyes and looked directly at Cate.
She’ll be okay.
13
“I’m glad Emma is fine,” Cate said to Henry two days later as they sat on a bench at Widow’s Walk, enjoying the ocean view.
The woman had mostly regained consciousness by the time they’d gotten her out of the forest and had steadily improved on the way to the clinic. Henry had kept an eye on her overnight and had reunited her with Abby the next morning.
Chris Corbin had been picked up by two more FBI agents and taken to a hospital on the mainland. He would live. Cate suspected he’d lunged at Emma at the last second in an effort to draw fire. His quiet words about the urge never going away had repeated in her mind ever since then. Suicide by cop. He had known he was finished but hadn’t wanted to live with the consequences.
Too bad. Plenty of consequences were headed his way.
Investigators were taking another look at his mother’s murder now that they had a suspect in Jeff Lamb. Mike had gone with them, after giving Cate a tight hug and Henry a firm handshake.
“What did Mike say to you when you shook hands goodbye?” Cate asked. She’d noticed he’d leaned forward and spoken quietly, making Henry grin, but she had forgotten to ask about it until now.
Henry put his arm around Cate’s shoulders. “He said for me to keep you on the island.”
She frowned. “That wasn’t nice. Did he mean that I’m better off baking scones than returning to the FBI?” The comment stung more than she was willing to admit.
“I don’t think he meant that at all.”
“Well, it doesn’t matter anyway. I’m done. I called Phillip this morning and told him to put through my final paperwork. This sabbatical nonsense has gone on long enough.”
He met her gaze. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely. You saw what I went through when Tessa knocked on that front door. I was a wreck with anxiety. I could put someone at risk if that happened when I was on the job.”
Henry shifted forward and looked her full in the face. “You just saved Emma’s life. I watched you. You were cool and calm in a high-intensity situation. You haven’t lost your edge. And I saw how much you enjoyed working the case over the past few days. You welcomed the challenge.”
She had enjoyed it, but shooting Chris had haunted her dreams for the last two nights, and she knew it would continue. She never wanted to be in that situation again.
Cate sighed. “Why are you trying to get me to take that job back?”
“I’m not. I just want you to be absolutely positive that you’re where you want to be.”
Cate had no doubts. She smiled and lifted a hand to his cheek. “I am.” As she touched him, something tingled from her spine to her fingertips.
Henry blinked and covered her hand on his face with his. “What was that?”
A puff of icy air touched the back of Cate’s neck.
You approve, Ruby?
“I must have shocked you.”
“It didn’t feel like any shock I’ve ever experienced.” He visibly relaxed. “I’m glad you know what you want.”
“I do. I want to be right here on Widow’s with you. If I need something to solve, I’ll order a puzzle. One of those five-thousand-piece ones.”
His eyes lit up. “I love those.”
She laughed. “I didn’t know that. I’ve never seen you work on one.”
“I haven’t had time. I’ve been preoccupied with something,” he said with a grin, his eyes intent on her.
Preoccupied with me.
Cate was okay with that. “I’ve been distracted too,” she said softly. “I’ve been immersed in us . . . spending time with you, enjoying how well we mesh. I’ve loved every minute of it.”
“Me too.” He gave her a long kiss. As they parted, he held her gaze and took her hand, slipping a diamond solitaire on her finger.
Cate stared at the ring, speechless, her pulse pounding in her ears.
“Former FBI special agent Cate Wilde, would you do puzzles with me for the rest of your life?”
More electrical sparks flowed to the finger with the ring. “Yes,” she forced out. “Absolutely yes. There’s nothing I want more to do with my life than spend it with you.”
“Good. And this is what Mike meant when he told me to keep you on the island.” A satisfied gleam entered his eyes as he bent to kiss her. “But I’d already planned to.”
Icy air touched her neck.
Thanks, Ruby.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
After writing ten Rogue River novellas, Melinda and I were ready to write about new characters and a new location. A trip to the beautiful San Juan Islands convinced us a Pacific Northwest island would be a fabulous setting for more mystery and murder, and the concept of Widow’s Island was born. We carried over a couple of characters from Rogue River—we weren’t ready to leave it completely behind. Thank you to Montlake and our editor, Anh Schluep, for their enthusiasm about this project. Thank you to Charlotte Herscher for helping us sound like we know what we’re doing. Thank you to our readers who loved our first novella series and constantly begged for more. We hope you enjoy Widow’s Island as much as we do.
Kendra Elliot
Melinda Leigh
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Photo © 2016 Rebekah Jule Photography
Kendra Elliot has landed on the Wall Street Journal bestseller list multiple times and is the award-winning author of the Bone Secrets and Callahan & McLane series, as well as the Mercy Kilpatrick novels. She’s a three-time winner of the Daphne du Maurier Award, an International Thriller Writers Award finalist, and an RT Award finalist. She has always been a voracious reader, cutting her teeth on classic female heroines such as Nancy Drew, Trixie Belden, and Laura Ingalls. She was born, raised, and still lives in the rainy Pacific Northwest with her family, but she looks forward to the day she can live in flip-flops. Visit her at www.kendraelliot.com.
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