Single Father Sheriff. Carol Ericson

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СКАЧАТЬ curled her fingers around one of his hands. “She never holds my hand, so you’ve got her beat there.”

      He squeezed her fingers and released them as he backed up to his own seat. “Did your therapy ever bring up any memories of that night that you hadn’t realized as a child? The man’s accent? Someone he reminded you of?”

      “Nothing like that.” She stretched her arms over her head. “I don’t have any repressed memories of the event, if that’s what you’re driving at, Doctor Sloane.”

      He stroked his chin, wishing he had a clean shave. “You know, sometimes I feel more like a psychiatrist than a cop when I’m questioning people.”

      “So tell me.” She wedged her elbows on the table and sunk her chin into one cupped palm. “What makes you think these two kidnappings are at all related to the Timberline Trio case? Wyatt mentioned you were working on some theory that the FBI didn’t share.”

      When Kendall mentioned the FBI, he ground his back teeth together. He’d never met a more arrogant bunch, who seemed more interested in dotting i’s and crossing t’s than doing any real investigative work.

      “It’s something I’d rather keep to myself.”

      She swiped his glass from the table and jumped up from her chair. As she sauntered toward the sink, she glanced over her shoulder. “You want me to help you, but you won’t share your findings?”

      “Can you keep a secret?” He sucked in his bottom lip as he watched her refill his glass with water from the tap. She’d lured him into a comfortable intimacy, making him forget that she’d lied about the spider, but she seemed like someone who could keep secrets because she had plenty of her own.

      “Who am I going to tell? I’m only going to be here for a short time anyway. Pack up the house, list it, outta here.”

      He scooted back his chair and stood up, leaning his hip against the table. “When this guy snatched the two children on separate occasions, he left something behind.”

      “What?” She placed the glass on the counter and wiped her fingers on the dish towel hanging over the oven’s handle.

      “When he took the boy, he left a plastic dinosaur. When he took the girl, he left...a pink ribbon.”

       Chapter Three

      The room tilted and Sheriff Sloane’s handsome face blurred at the edges. The pink hair ribbon that she’d found in the drawer of the cabinet burned a hole in her pocket where she’d stuffed it.

      What did this mean? Who had put the ribbon in the drawer? What was the significance of the ribbon left at the scene of the kidnapping?

      She swallowed. “A dinosaur?”

      “You didn’t know that, did you?” He reached over and took the glass from the counter. “When Stevie Carson was kidnapped, his parents insisted that one of his dinosaurs from his collection was missing. When Harrison Keaton was taken from his bedroom, the same kind of dinosaur as Stevie’s was on the floor.”

      “The boy’s parents confirmed the dinosaur didn’t belong to him...to Harrison?” She twisted her fingers in front of her.

      He gulped down half of the water. “No. That’s why the FBI isn’t looking at this angle. Harrison’s parents can’t say whether the dinosaur belongs to him or not.”

      “And the p-pink ribbon?”

      “Same thing. The ribbon was on the little girl’s dresser. Cheri Douglas wears ribbons. She likes pink.”

      Kendall eked out a tiny breath. Sounded like a coincidence to her. Lots of little boys played with plastic dinosaurs. Lots of little girls wore ribbons, especially pink ones, in their hair. Sheriff Sloane was grasping at straws, perhaps trying to stay relevant as the FBI moved into Timberline and took over the investigation.

      She hooked her thumb in the front pocket of her jeans, the ribbon tickling the end of her finger. “Your theory is a stretch.”

      “Could be.” He downed the rest of the water. “I’ll let you get back to work, Kendall. If anything comes to you while you’re still in town, give me a call.”

      He plucked a white business card from the front pocket of his khaki shirt and held it out between two fingers.

      Taking it from him, she glanced at the embossed letters before shoving it in her back pocket. “I’ll do that.”

      “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention the ribbon or dinosaur to anyone else—just in case they mean something.”

      “My lips are sealed. As a therapist, I’m good at keeping secrets. It’s part of my job description.”

      “I figured you were, or I wouldn’t have told you. I think you’re probably very good at keeping secrets.” He jerked his thumb toward the living room. “I’m gonna head on out.”

      She followed him into the other room and then scooted past him to open the front door. “It was nice meeting you, Sheriff Sloane—Coop. I sure hope you can help those families, and I wish I could do more.”

      “I appreciate your time, Kendall. I’ll probably be seeing you around before you leave.” He stopped on the porch and did a half turn. “Watch out for those...spiders.”

      She squinted through the heavy mesh of the screen door at the sheriff as he climbed into his SUV. He beeped his horn once as he backed down the drive.

      He hadn’t bought her story about the spider. She did hate the creepy crawlies, but that mad flight from the house would’ve been over-the-top even for her.

      Shutting the door, she dug into her pocket, the ribbon twining around her fingers. She pulled it free and dangled it in front of herself.

      The soft pink had a slight sheen to it that caught the lamplight. It couldn’t be the same one yanked from her pigtail that night or even its companion. A twenty-five-year-old ribbon would be faded and frayed, not buoyantly dancing from her fingertips.

      She dropped it on top of the cabinet and shuffled through the drawer where she’d found it. Nothing else jumped out at her, not even a spider.

      Although the ribbon had spooked her, there was probably a good, reasonable explanation for its presence in the drawer—not that she could think of one now.

      She grabbed another handful of papers and shoved them into the plastic garbage bag. The sooner she got Aunt Cass’s place ready, the sooner she could get out of this soggy hellhole.

      And the sooner she could escape the tragedies of Harrison and Cheri. Damn Sheriff Sloane for naming them and making them human—a boy who liked dinosaurs and a girl who liked pink hair ribbons.

      And damn Sheriff Sloane for peeling back her facade so easily. He’d just given her another reason to run back to Phoenix.

      A man like that spelled trouble.

      * * *

      A FEW HOURS LATER, Kendall scrubbed СКАЧАТЬ