“Certainly not a kitchen paring knife.”

  A scowl slashed across his face. His tight voice, clenched jaw conveyed his anger. “You could have been killed.”

  “I refuse to let the killer stop me. If I did, he’s won. Believe me, when it’s light, I’ll be out there with Gabe looking for any clues to the identity of my attacker.”

  Straightening, he heaved a deep breath. “Not alone. I’ll be out there, too.”

  “You don’t have to. I’ll wait for Gabe.”

  “We’re in this together. Remember, I’m to watch out for you and you for me.”

  The fervent way he said the last sentence brought home how entwined they’d become in this case together in just twenty-four hours. “Then let me help you. Something’s bothering you.” Her last police partner used to kid her about trying to psychoanalyze him when he had a problem. But when she sensed a person she cared about was hurting, she wanted to help.

  “Yeah. Amy’s missing.”

  “No, there’s more to it than that. In your own words, you’ve been driven by your job since you came here. What’s driving you? What’s going on?”

  He looked away, surged to his feet and stalked to the coffeepot and topped off his drink. “You know when you talked about deciding to retire from the police force early because you were tired of seeing so much death and violence? Well, I know what you mean. I’ve been struggling to decide if I should continue to be a doctor. My decisions and actions can mean the difference between life and death.”

  “What happened in Chicago?”

  “The woman I was going to ask to marry me died because of me.”

  SEVEN

  “What do you mean? What happened to her?” Kyra stood, drawn toward Michael.

  He swung around, cradling the mug in between his large palms. Taking a sip, he locked gazes with her. “Sarah and I were going to dinner to celebrate our first-year anniversary dating. I was driving when someone ran a red light and struck us on her side of the car. She lived a little while after the wreck but died at the scene. I couldn’t save her.”

  “So you blame yourself for the fact a man ran a red light and hit you?”

  He flinched. His knuckles whitened under the tight clasp on the mug. “It should have been me, not her. I was the one driving. I had the evening all planned. I had reservations at the restaurant at the country inn. I was going to ask her to marry me that night and didn’t want to be late. I looked before going out and didn’t see he wasn’t slowing down. I should have paid more attention. If I hadn’t pulled out into the intersection when the light turned green, she would still be alive.”

  “When did this happen?”

  “A little over a year ago.”

  “I’m sorry for what happened, Michael. You weren’t driving the other car. Sometimes we can’t control what occurs. Feeling guilty over surviving won’t bring her back, and if she loved you, she wouldn’t want you to feel that way.”

  Michael raised the mug to his lips and sipped, his eyelids veiling his expression.

  She touched his upper arm, wanting to do more than that, but his posture warned her to be careful. “Were you hurt?”

  “Yes, but nothing life-threatening.”

  “So you were injured. How did you expect to save her without any medical supplies and yourself hurt?”

  “I couldn’t even get to her until right before the police showed up. By that time it was all but over with.”

  “It’s a tragedy. No doubt about it. But you weren’t responsible for her death. The driver who ran the red light was. After years of training to be a doctor, I hate to see you give up now. I can remember you talking about that when you were growing up. I remember you talking Ginny and me into being your victims so you could practice your first aid.”

  “Yeah, the first time I bandaged you, you accused me of making you a mummy.” His grin lasted a second before falling.

  “Your career is just beginning.”

  He shrugged off her touch and put several feet between them. “Since the wreck, I’ve been having a hard time dealing with patients dying. In the E.R. I see more of that than some doctors, and it was taking its toll on me.”

  “When you deal with life-and-death situations sometimes on a daily basis, there will be times when you’ll lose someone. I saw that on my job as a cop.”

  “You finally walked away.”

  “After twelve years and I’m still a reserve officer, called in if needed in an emergency situation.”

  “I thought you walked totally away.”

  “No, not completely. There will always be a part of me that will be a police officer. Like you, I wanted to be one since I was a teen.”

  “You didn’t go far when picking a new job. What a pair we make!”

  There was that word again. Pair. So like a couple. The thought didn’t send panic through her, which stunned her. “Yeah, like Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson.”

  He chuckled. “I wasn’t exactly thinking that kind of pair.” Inching closer, he lifted his hand to her face, his eyes a soft blue like the sky on a lazy day. “I’m so glad you chose this week to take a vacation. I’m not sure what I would have done without you here to help. Probably driven Gabe crazy until he decided to lock me in jail for my own safekeeping.”

  “Now we get to protect each other.” Her words came out on a breathless rush while her attention riveted to the feel of his fingers caressing her cheek, jaw, neck.

  “Which means we’ll have to be together a lot.” He bent his head slowly toward hers, his coffee-laced breath fanning over her lips.

  She wanted to melt against him. She wanted him to kiss her. She wanted him.

  Somewhere in her dazed mind a sound penetrated. The shuffling of shoes on the hardwood floor coming closer to the kitchen. Kyra backed away from Michael as Aunt Ellen entered the room, dressed for the day in matching pants and top, her brown hair neatly fixed, makeup on her face.

  “Where are you going today?” Kyra heard the waver in her voice and so did Aunt Ellen by the smug look she gave Kyra.

  “Nowhere. With all that’s been going on around here, I need to be ready for visitors. Didn’t you say something about Gabe coming this morning to check out the beach?”

  “Yeah.” Was her aunt interested in Gabe? Aunt Ellen had never married although she’d been engaged once, but her fiancé had been killed in the Vietnam War.

  A smile curved her mouth as her aunt ambled toward the counter to pour herself some coffee. “There’s not a better smell to wake up to. I think I’ll go sit on the deck. If I see Gabe, I’ll let you know.” She waved her hand back at them and added, “Resume what y’all were doing. I didn’t mean to interrupt your—work.”

  Kyra ducked her head, trying to contain her amusement until after her aunt had left the room. The second Aunt Ellen disappeared from view, she released her laugh at the same time Michael did.

  “I should have figured something was going on when she got a twinkle in her eye yesterday while talking about besting Gabe at the shooting contest. But I’m not sure the best way to win a man’s heart is to beat him at shooting.”

  “It wouldn’t bother me. I probably couldn’t hit the wide side of the house standing ten feet away.”

  “Let’s hope you never have to find out.”

  Michael’s eyes grew round. “Me and a gun don’t mix. But don’t you worry, I’ll protect you.”

  Although he said it with humor beneath the words there was a steel thread, too. He meant it, and she believed him. The declaration gave her a warm, fuzzy feeling in the pit of her stomach. Not something she was used to.

  “Do you want something for breakfast?” she asked, wondering how to go about resuming where they were before—inches from kissing. She’d certainly had her share of relationships, but not many in the past few years. She was definitely rusty.

  He went and refilled his mug. “Let’s wait. Gabe should be here soon. We can get some on the way out of town.”

  “You aren’t a morning person.”

  “No. I’m used to working the night shift at the hospital in Chicago. It’s taken an adjustment to change over to days. I need tons of coffee just to get myself up.”

  The sound of voices coming from the deck drifted to Kyra. “I think Gabe has arrived.” She glanced toward the window over the sink with light streaming through the slits. “Right on time.”

  “That’s Gabe. Should we give Ellen and Gabe a few minutes?”

  “Why, Michael Hunt, I do believe you have a romantic streak.” She started for the deck.

  Michael grabbed her arm and halted her progress, bringing her closer to him. “Actually I do. Once Amy is safe at home and we have time, I want to explore what just happened between us.”

  “Oh?”

  “I’m attracted to you, and I think you return those feelings. I’m not a young teenage boy anymore with a crush on you.”

  “You had a crush on me?” she asked in a teasing tone because it had been obvious years ago.

  A serious expression darkened his eyes to a navy blue. “Yes, and I know you knew.”

  His declaration heated her insides—no longer warm and fuzzy. “We’d better go rescue Gabe. My aunt can be a force to be reckoned with.”

  Michael released her arm, but the brand of his fingers on her skin stayed with her as she made her way toward the back deck. The feel of his gaze on her as she walked flamed her cheeks. He’d been Ginny’s kid brother—cute, but with five years between them, she never considered him beyond that. Now five years didn’t seem such a gulf as it did back when they were teenagers.

  Michael parked in the lot next to Kava Net. The drive to Naples had been filled with a finely honed tension between him and Kyra. He should never have admitted how he’d felt when he was growing up. But a person didn’t need to have a genius IQ to have figured it out. Still, he shouldn’t have openly admitted it. He’d just been a kid back then. What in the world had possessed him to do that? Kyra. He didn’t think straight around her. Hadn’t back then and certainly not now.

  “I hope something pans out here since Gabe told us this morning there’s no Kip Thomas at the address the person gave when setting up the email account.” Michael opened the glass door for Kyra.

  “Yeah, and with skullandcrossbones tapping into his account at various commercial places, we may have a hard time tracking the person down. Since this was the last place an email to Amy was sent from, maybe someone will remember the person or they have a tape that can show us him.”

  “Or her.”

  “Right. We can’t assume anything.”

  Inside the small café, most of the tables were taken. “Busy little place.”

  Kyra headed for the counter, offering a huge smile to the young man with a manager’s badge on his shirt at the cash register. After showing him her credential from Texas, she leaned toward him and lowered her voice to say, “I could sure use your help. I’m working a case in Flamingo Cay concerning a missing child. One of our leads is an email sent from this location two and a half days ago—late afternoon. Were you working then?”

  The man, in his early twenties, straightened and sidestepped to the end of the counter. “Let’s talk over here. Yes, I was. What can I do to help you?”

  “The email was sent at 4:20 p.m. on Friday. We have some pictures of some people. I want you to take a look and see if you recognize any of them.” Kyra slid the yearbook toward the manager and flipped to the first snapshot of Laurie.

  “Yeah, she comes in sometimes.”

  “How about last Friday?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Okay. How about this one?” She pointed to Preston’s picture.

  “Yes, ma’am. He’s been in here, too.”

  Kyra showed the manager six more pictures of Amy’s friends. He recognized one other, Brady. When she presented Amy’s photo to the young man, he couldn’t remember ever seeing her. “But you aren’t sure about that time on Friday if any of the three you remember were in here?”

  “Nope. It was a hectic day. One of my workers didn’t show up so I was doing two jobs.”

  She gestured back toward the door. “Does that camera work?”

  “Yes. But the tape is taped over every two days.”

  “So you don’t have any footage of Friday.”

  He shook his head. “I can’t tell you when she came in on Friday with that one,” the manager put his finger on Preston’s face, “but she did come that day. She has every Friday afternoon since the beginning of summer.”

  “With him?”

  “Sometimes. Sometimes with another guy. Last week it was him.”

  “How about the other guy?” Kyra turned the page to Brady’s picture.

  His eyes became slits as he studied Brady for a moment. “I don’t think so. He might have been here Friday, but not with her.”

  “Thanks for your help.” Kyra shifted around toward Michael as the manager went back to helping customers. “We need to talk to Laurie, and if she is in Tampa like her mother says, we need to get the contact information and call Laurie. If she isn’t skullandcrossbones, that probably leaves either Preston or Brady, and since it doesn’t make sense that Amy would email Preston, who she knows is dead, and ask him to meet her, then it’s got to be Brady.”

  “That doesn’t make sense, either. Why would she talk about Preston to Brady?”

  “It’s probably Laurie. But we should talk to Brady, too. His name keeps coming up.”

  “Let’s go. We’ve got a couple of kids to talk to before the search for Amy begins.” Outside the café, he stopped at the car and spoke over the roof. “How is this going to help find Amy?”

  “I’m not sure. It might not, but we have to check it out. She took the time to email skullandcrossbones before leaving and set up a meeting. Why? Where?”

  Michael opened his driver-side door and climbed into his Saturn. For a few seconds his fingers remained wrapped around the steering wheel as the past twenty-four hours paraded across his mind.

  “Are you okay?”

  He slanted a look toward Kyra, her face a welcome sight to his tired eyes. “Last night I tried praying to God. I don’t know if it did any good.”

  “It always does good.”

  “I wish I had your faith.”

  “You can if you want it.”

  He unlocked his fingers that were cramping and started the car. “I feel like this past day has been a week.”

  She touched his arm, drawing his full attention. “Don’t give up on praying. If nothing else, tell the Lord your concerns. You don’t have to do this alone.”

  Alone. He’d been alone most of his life. For a brief time Sarah had filled that void, but she’d been taken from him. Now he was back to being alone.

  “Cherie’s car is here in the driveway,” Michael said between ringing the doorbell.

  “Maybe she isn’t here.” Kyra glanced toward the window Laurie’s mother had peeked out of the day before. Closed. No sign the woman was home. “Let’s check the garage for Laurie’s car. We forgot to yesterday.”

  “She’s probably in there like yesterday.” Frustration creasing his forehead, Michael opened the screen and pounded on the front door. The third time he struck the wood, the door creaked open. He halted and peered at Kyra. “She always keeps her house locked. Amy told me she was paranoid about it since it was only her and Laurie.”

  Kyra stepped next to Michael perched on the threshold and leaned toward the opening to listen for any sounds in the house. Inching the crack wider, she yelled, “Mrs. Carson. Laurie.” Moving half a foot through the entrance, she cocked her head to the side. “Someone’s crying. A baby?”

  “Cherie and a baby don’t mix. Oh, it’s probably their cat, Ringo. Sometimes when Amy has called me, I’ve heard him carrying on in the background.”

  Kyra pushed the door completely open. “Listen. He sounds distressed.”

  The noise came closer until a large white cat ambled down the hallway, whining like a baby the whole way. When he strolled within a few feet of them and stopped, he turned back as if he was going to retrace his steps. That was when Kyra saw blood matted into his fur on his side.

  “Michael.”

  “I see it.” Michael charged past Kyra straight for the cat and stooped next to him. “Ringo,” he said in a soothing voice.

  “Did he hurt himself? Where’s Cherie?”

  While Michael patted the large male cat, he inspected Ringo for the source of the blood. “I don’t feel anything.”

  Kyra withdrew her gun from her holster. “You stay here. Call Gabe and let him know something’s wrong here. I’m checking the house.”

  She crept down the hall, inspecting each bedroom as she went. No sign of where the blood would have come from. Until she reached the last room.

  Kyra rushed into the master bedroom to Cherie lying on the floor, faceup, her swollen eyes closed. Dried blood all over her from small cuts, as though she’d been tortured, intermingled with bruises. Kyra put her finger against the woman’s neck. The faint pulse sent relief through Kyra.

  “Michael, get in here. Cherie is hurt. Bad.”

  The pounding of his footsteps announced his hurried approach. He knelt next to Cherie, saying, “Call 911. Get my bag in the car.”

  Kyra backed away, swung around, then hastened toward the car while phoning 911, then Gabe.

  Gabe answered his cell as Kyra grabbed Michael’s medical bag. “We’re at Cherie Carson’s house. We found her near death in her bedroom. It looks like she was beaten and tortured, then left to die.”

  “I’m on my way. Is Michael with Cherie?”

  “Yes. The ambulance from Clear Spring is on its way.” Kyra made her way down the hall.

  “Don’t let anyone else in the crime scene. I’ll be there before the ambulance.” Gabe clicked off.

  Kyra pocketed her phone and gave Michael his bag. “Is she going to make it?”

  “I don’t know. She’s lost a lot of blood. Thankfully most of the cuts have clotted or she would have died hours ago. She’s been here awhile.”