No bullets.
She yanked the handle.
The fire alarm rang out so loud the wall vibrated behind her back, and Boots, without a loaded pistol in his hand, quickly turned from deadly swamp predator to spooked rabbit and bolted for the door.
Tuesday Night
NO ONE HAD FOLLOWED when he and Anna had peeled out of the library parking lot—Charlie was certain of it. Having put a good ten minutes between them and the scene of the crime, he checked the rearview mirror once more and then guided his Camaro to a stop on the wide, soft shoulder of the road. Flexing and unflexing his hands to shake off the jitters, he turned to Anna. “You okay?”
She nodded, but her body was trembling like a feverish child’s. He reached in the back, tossed yesterday’s Tangleheart Gazette off his crumpled lab coat, and then dragged the coat up front and draped it around her shoulders.
“Thanks. I—I don’t know why I’m cold on a night like this.”
“Most likely you’re a bit shocky.” He pulled his arms back to his sides, and his muscles went weak, as if he’d just bench-pressed twice his weight instead of lifting a cotton coat. “Me too, I guess.”
His arms felt anchored at his sides, and maybe that was what stopped him from grabbing her and holding her close. Likewise his mouth had gone dry and his tongue felt thick, and maybe that was what stopped him from telling her what an ass he’d been—how he wished he could turn back the clock twelve years and not walk out that door on her.
Their gazes met and held. Moonlight drenched her skin and lit catch lights in the bottomless blue of her eyes, which were still dilated with fear. The realization of how close he’d come to losing her tonight settled like an anvil on his chest, making it hard to fill his lungs. He didn’t know what tomorrow held for Anna and him, or even if there would be a tomorrow after a night like tonight, but he did know this: He’d give his life if need be to keep her out of harm’s way.
“Anna, I…” He swallowed hard.
“What?” She laid her palm on his knee, but then pulled it back just as his clumsy hand reached for hers.
“I…wanted to tell you…nice work pulling the fire alarm.”
Her expression brightened, and that amazing smile of hers appeared. “Nice work killing the lights—twice.”
When she smiled at him like that he could almost forget that a psycho assassin had their names on his to-do list. “We make a good team.”
“Ya think?” she practically chirped.
“I do.” He did his best to match her overly cheery tone. Whatever worked for her was fine by him.
Headlights appeared on the road behind them. He grabbed Anna’s hand and held on tight. She didn’t pull it away until after the car had moved safely past them on the road. That was a good sign, wasn’t it?
But they couldn’t sit here on the side of the road all night and sort out their feelings. That passing car was a warning bell to get the hell out of Tangleheart. “We need to make some decisions,” he said. “I know what the nine-one-one operator advised, but I don’t think we should drive to the police station.”
“Agreed.”
“You’re not going to put up an argument? We’re not going to weigh the pros and cons? Anna Kincaid is going to defy authority—just like that?”
“We’ve already given Nate and the nine-one-one operator a full account of everything that happened tonight. Nate should have no problem getting the police involved in the search for Simone after this. But if we go to the police station they’ll take the file, which will most likely be of no use to them at all. Like you said, I know Simone better than just about anyone. The police won’t have any idea which of those clippings would have meaning for her, but I might be able to figure something out.”
Anna was right. Once they turned the file over to the authorities, their opportunity to sort through the newspaper clippings would be lost.
“And besides, someone did try to kill us tonight. I don’t feel comfortable marching into the station, filing a complaint, and giving the bad guy a chance to get back on our tail in the process. Whoever he is, he obviously followed us to the library. We’re looking for Simone, and to my way of thinking, so is he. He’s probably expecting us to drive straight to the cops.”
“We’re on the same page. He or she might very well be staking out the station waiting for us.”
“He or she? Are you serious?” A flash of surprise widened her already huge eyes.
“The guy was not so big he couldn’t have been a woman.”
“Boots was kind of skinny for a man.”
“Boots—that’s what we’re calling him?” He busted a grin. “Boots, to my recollection, was well under six feet. I never heard his voice. Did you?”
She shook her head. “I guess you’re right. Boots could have been a tall woman—but I still think he was a man.”