Mistaken Twin. Jodie Bailey

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       THREE

      I can’t give you anything. Wyatt dropped his head against the seat of his truck and stared across the street at Jenna’s apartment. Maybe he was being overly suspicious, but it sure did feel like her insistence was a lie. Fine. He’d go around her. He’d find out the truth on his own.

      Any news yet? Wyatt tapped out the message to fellow officer Brian Early, then rested his cell phone on his leg, settling in his seat to watch Jenna’s front door. He’d had Early bring his personal truck then take his SUV to the station. He wanted to remain as inconspicuous as possible as he sat parked in the dark end of the alley across the street from Jenna’s apartment. Thankfully, the historic building’s second story offered only one way in, the very stairs he’d practically had to chase her up earlier to keep her from running headlong into the unknown of her own apartment.

      In some ways, she appeared to be heedless of the danger. In others, she appeared to be hyperaware of exactly what was going on, of what his department suspected. A brazen attack on Jenna could be random, or it could mean traffickers had already gained a toehold in the town, and they weren’t planning to be too careful about hiding themselves. If that was the case, this could be the start of a violent struggle for control of his hometown.

      It was a leap, sure, to go from an attack on one woman to a human trafficking ring that had been dormant since the early fall. But his gut... His gut wouldn’t let him downplay the coincidence of those Texas license plates. A thin thread, but a thread nonetheless.

      His phone buzzed on his thigh and he glanced at the screen. Nothing yet. Guy’s a ghost. Could be he cut and ran.

      Anything on the car? They’d called in the county and had the car behind Jenna’s shop processed, but it would take time to get more than an owner’s name. Without a clear link to the traffickers, nobody higher up the chain than the county was going to get involved. In fact, the state and federal agents had cleared out weeks ago, their final report stating the gang had either had trouble with the van while passing through, or had been spooked enough by law enforcement’s presence to move on.

      The almost-physical gnawing at the back of Wyatt’s brain said no.

      His phone buzzed. Registered in Texas. Same county as the box truck. Working on getting more.

      Thanks. Pushing deeper into his seat, Wyatt worked his shoulders back and forth, trying to ease some of the tension building there. Jenna had been cagey tonight. She tended to keep a low profile, and she was definitely hiding something. She’d asserted a dozen times that she didn’t know the man who’d been waiting for her in the shop, and Wyatt had finally stopped asking.

      But something about her answers to his questions rang false. No, he didn’t think she was a criminal, but she certainly was not telling him the truth. Frustrating would be an understatement.

      Chief Thompson was going to have to put someone else on this protection detail. Even with thin evidence, the man was cautious, wanting to be certain the smugglers weren’t behind this. Mountain Springs wasn’t a town with a high crime rate, even with all of the tourist activity. Violent crime was practically nonexistent. A kidnapping was unheard of.

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