Anger heated him. He knew the rest of the team had already been thinking it. But he and Tate weren’t just partners; they were friends. Tate should have trusted his judgment. “You’re insinuating that Alanna tipped her off?”
Chance glanced from him to Tate, as if waiting for the reply, too.
Tate sighed, shaking his head. “She stole your truck. Why do you think she did that? Maybe she was trying to slow you down so you couldn’t catch up to Darcy and she’s mad you brought backup. Or she’s been talking to Darcy from the start and she couldn’t shake you, so she just brought you along and told Darcy what was going down.”
Peter took an aggressive step forward and Chance, sitting between them, got to his feet, looking wary. The dog nudged his arm, as if telling him to calm down.
Peter absently pet Chance, trying to reassure him as he snapped at Tate, “Alanna didn’t even know you’d be here. What happened to you thinking Alanna was genuine, that she was trying to help us?”
“Maybe she was,” Tate replied, not looking at all threatened by Peter invading his personal space. “But maybe she had second thoughts. Let’s be honest here. You cut her out by calling us in secretly. But that doesn’t mean she didn’t figure out what you were doing. Was she ever alone? Did she ever have a chance to warn Darcy before you two came out here? She probably didn’t expect Darcy to shoot at us, but—”
“Alanna would never tip off Darcy. She’d never put those kids in danger.”
“Wouldn’t they have been in less danger if she’d told the police what she knew as soon as she found those locations? You have to admit it—she still loves Darcy. She’s still trying to protect her. What happened to you thinking she had some warped loyalty to her kidnappers?”
“I got to know her,” Peter said softly, backing up a step as his shoulders slumped. If even Tate didn’t believe in Alanna now, what would happen if they caught up to Darcy and Alanna was with her?
Tate nodded, the anger on his face softening as he stared at Peter. “You care about her.” It was a statement rather than a question. “But look around here. She took your truck. She hasn’t tried to contact you. She even left her dog.” He gestured to Chance, who whined and lay on the snowy ground.
“She’s not coming back.”
* * *
CHANCE LOOKED UP from the spot he’d claimed on the floor of the Desparre police station and gave a low whine.
They hadn’t heard from Alanna in five hours and Peter definitely wasn’t the only one feeling anxious over it. He leaned down and petted the St. Bernard to comfort him.
“He really shouldn’t be in here,” Chief Hernandez said, but she sighed and petted him, too.
The chief couldn’t be too stern with the dog who’d just saved half her force from an avalanche. The same couldn’t be said of the way she was treating him. Furious was an understatement. He wasn’t sure if it was because he’d tried to outpace them in the woods to reach Alanna first or because of everything that had gone wrong the moment they’d driven up to that tiny cabin.
She straightened and peered over his shoulder at his computer. “Any luck?”
Since they’d returned to the station, he’d been trying to figure out the other locations Darcy might have gone. Last night, he’d given Alanna a tiny notebook to jot down whatever she could remember of the list she’d found at the cabin. She’d spent over an hour writing things down and crossing them out until she’d finally gone to bed. While she’d slept, he’d slipped into the guest room and snagged the notebook off the side table.
He’d tried not to look at her at all, feeling like he was invading her privacy, but he hadn’t been able to stop himself. The sheets had been twisted beneath her, her long hair tangled around her face, her eyes moving rapidly underneath her eyelids as she dreamed. Was she reliving the avalanche, he’d wondered? Dreaming of her past? Or worrying about Darcy and those kids?
In that moment, he’d had the absurd desire to curl up with her and chase away her nightmares. Then Chance had walked over and Peter had realized the big dog had been watching him from the floor beside Alanna’s bed. He’d given the dog a quick pet, told him everything was fine and gone into the other room to copy the contents of the notebook.
The mix of odd symbols, numbers and blank lines—where presumably Alanna had been trying to remember what she’d seen—hadn’t meant much to him last night. They didn’t mean much more now. She’d translated some of the code, but not enough.
He shook his head. “Sorry.”
“Luna police haven’t had a single sighting.”
Apparently they’d been notified about what was happening less than five minutes after Peter had contacted Tate. It made sense; the cabin was in Luna PD’s jurisdiction. But it still bothered him that so quickly after he’d called for backup, it seemed like everyone knew what was going on. It made him wonder if there was some other reason Darcy had been tipped off, like she’d spotted Luna patrols driving by too often before the Desparre team had arrived.
Still, once the Desparre officers had headed to the hospital after the avalanche, Luna’s had swept in. Their PD had set up roadblocks to search for Darcy. Although no one had mentioned it to him, Peter suspected they’d been told to stop Alanna, too. He hadn’t protested. He would have been happy if they’d held her, prevented her from catching up to Darcy on her own.
By now, Alanna was either still following Darcy in his truck or she’d lost her and was back to following the list of coordinates. Peter refused to consider the other possibility: that she’d caught up to Darcy and the woman had hurt her.
Peter stared down at the notes he’d taken from Alanna’s room. The truth was, he had a couple of guesses, coordinates he’d worked out based on what she’d written. But that was all they were—guesses that could be dead-on or hundreds of miles off course.
His chief narrowed her eyes at him, like she knew what he was thinking and wanted the specifics anyway. Before he could admit he had some possibilities, she told him, “According to the hospital, all of the officers are okay. Most of them are heading back to the station now.”
“Most of them?”
“They’re hanging onto Tate a bit longer. His core body temperature was a little low when he came in and they don’t want to take any chances.”
Peter swore and Chance came over to drop his head onto Peter’s lap. Absently stroking the dog’s fur, Peter realized how much Chance relaxed him, eased his worry over his partner and Alanna.
Chief Hernandez looked from him to the St. Bernard and back again. “Luna PD isn’t too happy with how everything shook out today. I think they’re wishing they’d said no to our request to handle it. They think it’s time to put out a message to the public, enlist their help.”
“Okay,” Peter said slowly. “But I thought we were holding off on that in case it escalated things.”
“It’s been five hours,” the chief reminded him. “Darcy got through our checkpoints, probably before we even had them up. If Alanna hasn’t been in contact by now, she’s not going to be.”
“Maybe she can’t. Her phone could have—”
“Peter.” She said his name with a sigh and a tone of finality. “When Darcy fired into that mountain, Alanna made a choice. She left all those officers, including you.”
“She went after the kids! She—”
“If she was on our side, we would have heard from her by now.” Chief Hernandez put up a hand, as if to forestall the argument she knew was coming. “Maybe she’s in trouble. Maybe she’s already dead.”
Chance whined and got to his feet. Peter’s insides twisted until he felt himself hunch over from the pain of it.
“I’m sorry,” the chief said. “You’ve gotten too close to this. At this point, we have to consider Alanna an accessory to kidnapping.”
Peter jerked to a standing position, knocking his chair backward and making Cha
nce step sideways out of the way. “She’d never actually help Darcy get away with those kids!” No matter how much she loved that woman, that would never happen.
“Peter, look around. Your partner is in the hospital and Alanna left her dog behind. She’s gone.”
“She’s coming back. She’d never leave Chance. She hung on to him in an avalanche!”
“I’m sorry,” Chief Hernandez repeated. “But it’s time. We’re going public with this and we’re naming Alanna, too.”
She gave him one last look, full of apology and residual anger and just a hint of distrust. Then she disappeared into her office and Peter sank back into his chair.
Chance promptly nuzzled up against him with so much force it pushed the chair backward, his whine a half growl, half cry.
“I know, boy,” Peter whispered. “This is bad.”
He stared at the chief’s closed office door, then over at the few other officers in the station, who were studiously ignoring him. He blew out a long breath and stood. “Come on, boy.”
Grabbing his coat, Peter strode for the door, trying not to run. Chance stayed right on his heels. With every step, he could feel the new career he’d fought so hard for slipping away.
But did he really have a choice? Alanna wasn’t guilty. And he couldn’t let her get hurt because she was trying to make amends for something that wasn’t her fault.
It was time to break ranks. It was time to search for Alanna on his own.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Maybe Darcy hadn’t been as guilty as Alanna had feared.
Not that she was totally innocent. She’d escaped from law enforcement, fled across the country to hide. But for the first time, Alanna wondered if Darcy had been incorrectly blamed.
Had she really kidnapped those kids?
Alanna stared at the cell phone she’d been holding for the past ten minutes, at Peter’s direct contact that he’d entered yesterday. She was sitting in his truck, the truck she’d stolen, with the engine running in a tiny back alley on the outskirts of Desparre as the sun began to set.
Five years ago, in the process of trying to find her, Kensie had run into trouble with a criminal. Alanna had first seen her in this alley, from the rearview window of a car as it drove away. For the second time in her life, she’d watched her big sister screaming for her, but in the alley, it had been Kensie who was in trouble. Until her sister had appeared at the cabin, Alanna had thought Kensie had been killed here. Things had turned out okay then, but would they now?
Her phone had rung repeatedly for the past five hours, Peter’s name lighting up on her screen. When the first call came in, she’d been on Darcy’s tail, too scared to take her eyes off the vehicle for a second. She’d caught up to it a few miles away from the cabin. She hadn’t actually been able to see Darcy inside it, but the way the vehicle was speeding, taking corners much too fast, who else could it be?
An hour later, after she’d lost the vehicle—at that point not even sure it was Darcy she’d been chasing—she’d thought about calling Peter. But she hadn’t been ready to admit defeat yet. And she’d been terrified to learn what happened to the officers who’d been buried under that avalanche.
When the snow had first started rushing down that mountainside, she’d considered staying for about ten seconds. Peter had already been running toward it, Chance outpacing him. She’d known Chance would be better help digging people out than she would. Darcy had been right in front of her, running back into the cabin, ready to grab those kids and make them disappear again. At least, that was what she’d thought.
Alanna had felt like she was those kids’ only shot. She couldn’t let Darcy take them again.
Now here she was. Alone. No Darcy. No kids. Afraid to learn what had happened at that cabin.
Setting the phone next to her, Alanna flipped on the radio to a local station. Would this debacle have made the news?
“…officers are doing fine,” the host was saying and Alanna relaxed against her seat, grabbing her phone to call Peter, to check on Chance and apologize for all of it. Tell Peter what she’d discovered.
She’d been so sure she could talk some sense into Darcy. Of course, maybe she would have been able to if there hadn’t been officers hiding in the woods, signaling to Darcy that Alanna had already betrayed her.
She couldn’t totally trust Peter. Not even now, after they’d seemed to connect on such a personal level back at his house. The realization hurt. A lot. But it wasn’t the most important thing right now.
Alaska wasn’t her home anymore. Soon enough, she’d be back in Chicago, Peter a distant memory. Right now, though, she needed his help. Maybe if she was lucky, if she was right, he could help her prove that Darcy wasn’t a kidnapper at all. At least not anymore.
“Be on the lookout for escaped convict Darcy Altier,” the radio host continued. “If you see her, contact police immediately. She is armed and dangerous. Police are also looking for her accomplice, Alanna Morgan. In case you don’t remember the name, Alanna was one of five children kidnapped by Darcy Altier and her husband nearly twenty years ago. She—”
Alanna flipped the radio off, dropping her phone. The police had named her as an accomplice? After she’d told them where to find Darcy? After she’d run into that cabin, trying to rescue those kids, all without any police help?
And after what she’d found…
Darcy had been running out the back door. Alone.
At first, Alanna had thought she’d lucked out. That Darcy had decided to run and leave the kids behind, avoid putting them in the middle of a standoff.
But a quick search of the one-room cabin had shown Alanna that wasn’t the case. Darcy didn’t have the kids. Maybe she’d never had the kids.
Unfortunately, kidnappings happened all the time. An escaped convict—especially one who’d been in jail for a series of kidnappings—in close enough proximity to a new case would be an obvious suspect. Then, when another kid went missing in a part of Canada that was along a potential route Darcy could take to return to Desparre? Maybe that had been enough to cinch the investigation and Darcy had been innocent all along. This time, anyway.
Alanna would never know unless she found her. It was more obvious than ever that she couldn’t trust the police, couldn’t trust Peter.
She needed to do this alone.
* * *
“IT’S BETTER TO ask forgiveness than permission, right, boy?” Peter asked Chance as he sped them along the icy back streets of Desparre.
Chance’s head swiveled in the passenger seat and the look in his eyes suggested he had doubts.
Since Alanna had his truck, Peter had taken his police vehicle. He wasn’t sure how long he had before the chief noticed his absence and grew suspicious. Before she called him up and demanded he return to the station. Before he faced serious trouble for ignoring her orders.
Of course, she could track the police vehicle, too, have his fellow officers chase him down. But Peter hadn’t had time to find something else. At this point, he was looking at insubordination at best, aiding and abetting a fugitive at worst. What was one borrowed police vehicle in comparison?
Even if he could get away without any charges being brought against him, he was probably finished in Desparre. He’d gotten the job because the department was desperate. Dozens of other applications around the state—even the country—had shown him how fast most police stations would eliminate him without an interview because of his hearing loss.
Unless there was drastic change, his career as a police officer was over. The idea made him nauseous.
Police academy had been brutal. He’d thought he was in good shape before he started, but he’d discovered that traipsing alongside soldiers in war zones hadn’t prepared him for the full physicality of chasing suspects for long stretches. It hadn’t prepared him for actually carrying his own weapon and learning not to fli
nch at the sound of it firing, which was just a little too similar to the boom of the explosion that had changed his life. It hadn’t prepared him for all the small adaptations he had to make just to be sure his bad ear didn’t put him or his fellow officers at increased risk.
He’d stuck it out, through the bruises and the flashbacks. He’d even worked through the bullying from an instructor who didn’t approve of Desparre PD bending their applicant rules to get another recruit willing to live in their remote town. The guy thought Desparre PD was unnecessarily endangering him—and that Peter could endanger his future colleagues by not being up to the job.
He’d worked hard to be a good officer, to make sure his disability didn’t impact his effectiveness. The day he’d graduated from the academy and gotten the official go-ahead to become a Desparre PD rookie, he’d felt a sense of accomplishment and joy headier than his first assignment as a war reporter.
Today he was throwing it all away.
Still, he didn’t turn around. No way could he just follow orders when those orders were putting Alanna at risk. No, the only shot he had at saving the career he’d grown to love so much was to bring in Darcy and save those kids.
At least he had an idea where to start. Sure, it was an idea based half on coordinates Alanna had decoded from her memory of the symbols she’d seen, half on guesswork. He had filled in the blanks, considering what else made sense based on the numbers she had and satellite images of the area. But guesswork was better than nothing. It was better than sitting in that station, waiting to hear that police officers in some other town had surrounded Darcy and Alanna. That they’d considered both women dangerous and were willing to sacrifice them in order to save two kidnapped children. That they’d shot first, asked questions later.
The very idea of anyone training a weapon on Alanna made him punch down harder on the gas. The first location he’d worked out wasn’t nearby. It was in the total opposite direction of the cabin in Luna, in a town even tinier than Desparre. A place that didn’t even have their own police force. It seemed like the best option for his quarry.
Harlequin Intrigue January 2021 - Box Set 2 of 2 Page 49