“Yes, ma’am, sir.” Flustered, Colt would have liked to argue Brooke’s case and mention the DNA confusion but he figured this was not the right time. Every scientific answer was dependent on having accurate information upon which to base a conclusion. Even a tiny error could negatively affect the validity of findings. That had to be what had occurred in this case, although he couldn’t for the life of him figure out what had gone wrong.

  Approaching the jail for the second time that day, he suddenly noticed a sense of elation. Was he actually looking forward to seeing Brooke again?

  “Of course, I am,” he said, directing his conversation toward Sampson, as he often did when working things out in his head. “I need to ask her questions and figure out what in the world is going on.”

  Satisfied, Colt parked and got out, harnessed Sampson, then headed for the sheriff’s office. The sooner he rejoined Brooke, the sooner they’d be able to brainstorm and hopefully arrive at some sensible conclusions.

  Whispers from the hidden corners of his mind intruded before he could stop them. What if she’s guilty?

  * * *

  Brooke was waiting in an outer foyer of the police station. She was so glad to see a friendly face she broke out in a grin. “Are you really my ride home?”

  “I am.”

  “That’s wonderful.” She spread her arms wide. “I got my uniform back. See?”

  “I take it the techs are satisfied?”

  “I hope so. Nobody tells me a thing but if they’d found traces of anything incriminating I’m pretty sure they would have kept my clothes.”

  “That’s logical. Are you ready to go?”

  “I was ready to leave before I even got here. This has not been a good day so far.” It pleased her to see Colt smile slightly and arch an eyebrow at her.

  “Yesterday was worse.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Don’t remind me.”

  “I’m afraid I’ll have to,” he said, sobering. “There has to be something we’re missing, some reason why your DNA showed up on the murder weapon.” He paused. “And on the first victim, the hiker.”

  “I know. It’s been driving me crazy trying to figure it out. So far I haven’t come up with anything plausible. I meet a lot of folks in my job but I have no memory of coming in contact with either of those victims.”

  Accompanying him out the door, she felt the warmth of the sun on her face and closed her eyes for a moment to enjoy the simple gift and sigh.

  Colt held the passenger door for her and she got in. As soon as he loaded Sampson, circled and slid behind the wheel, she smiled over at him. “I hate to tell you, but it smells like wet dog in here.”

  He chuckled as he started the engine and pulled into traffic. “Did you hear that, Sampson? Our passenger is complaining about your cologne.”

  Brooke laughed. “Is it his signature blend?”

  “Something like that. He gets a bath pretty often but I haven’t had time to spruce him up since the other night.”

  Hearing a reference to her troubles sobered her. “Yeah. I get that. I could use a shower myself. How about dropping me by my cabin before we check in with Georgia?”

  “Sorry. Her orders were to deliver you straight to her office.” When he paused, Brooke glanced over at him. He was frowning. “Henning tells me you have no siblings.”

  “That’s right. I’m an only child. My mom and dad are older than most of my friends’ parents. They always say they’re thankful they were allowed to adopt me.”

  Colt hit the brakes, making Brooke glad she was wearing her seat belt. By the time he’d pulled to the curb, she’d recovered. “What was that for?”

  “You’re adopted?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  “So you could have a brother or sister?”

  “I suppose I could,” Brooke said, staring at him. “But that doesn’t matter. We’d still have different DNA.”

  When Colt said, “Unless you were identical twins,” she felt as if she’d been plunged into an icy stream and was being held under water. A twin? That notion was outrageous. If she’d had a twin at birth, surely her parents wouldn’t have taken only one and left the other.

  “Impossible,” Brooke countered. “Mom and Dad were desperate for a family. There’s no way they’d have taken me and left a twin behind.”

  “Come up with another valid explanation and I’ll listen. Otherwise, I think we should look into your birth more closely.”

  Open-mouthed, Brooke could only nod. No way was she a twin. She’d have known, have sensed something or someone missing from her life, wouldn’t she?

  As the concept whirled through her mind she began to wonder if this possibility of separation wasn’t the reason for the feelings of not belonging that occasionally darkened her thoughts. That concept wasn’t just unimaginable, it was unacceptable.

  “I love my parents,” Brooke finally said. “I don’t want to start questioning my adoption and upset them any more than I already have by being suspected of murder.”

  Although it took him several long minutes to respond, Colt finally said, “It will upset them a lot more if you’re convicted of a crime you didn’t commit.”

  SIX

  “Ready for this?” Colt asked Brooke as they drove into Mount Rainier National Park via the Nisqually entrance.

  She sighed before answering. “I suppose so. You said Georgia Henning is expecting me to come straight to her office, but I’d really like a clean uniform. This one doesn’t look dirty but knowing it was tested gives me the creeps.”

  “I get that,” Colt said. “I feel the same way sometimes after Sampson and I get finished. Your place is right on our way. I see no reason why you shouldn’t be allowed to clean up while I wait outside.”

  “To keep me from running away, you mean?”

  He frowned over at her. “No. Of course not. To give you privacy.”

  That response seemed to subdue her. “Sorry. It’s been a rough couple of days. I guess I’m more on edge than I thought.”

  “That’s understandable.” He paused. “I should have asked before we passed into the park. Are you hungry?”

  “A little, I suppose. I hadn’t noticed.”

  “I always carry energy bars in my go bag. It’s behind the console. Help yourself. Just be careful you get the people food, not Sampson’s treats.”

  “They’re probably better for me than a lot of sugar,” Brooke quipped.

  “True. But you might not care for the flavors. I’m not fond of the liver ones.”

  Her hazel eyes sparkled and widened. “Thanks for the tip.” Beginning to peel the wrapper off one of the snack bars, she smiled over at him. “In case I haven’t said so before, thanks.”

  “Just doing my job.” And he was. There was always a sense of accomplishment when working with his K-9 and he was proud to be part of the PNK9 Unit, but having a peaceful interlude that included this particular ranger was turning out to be almost fun. In spite of her predicament and the underlying crimes that had brought them together, Colt was actually enjoying his assignment. Talk about disquieting.

  “Water?” Brooke asked as she reached for a bottle.

  “No, thanks. I’m good.”

  “Very,” she teased, grinning as if she was inviting a battle of wits.

  Colt was up for the challenge. “So I’ve been told,” he quipped. “Often.”

  “Oh, yeah? Modest, too, aren’t you?”

  “It’s hard to be humble when—”

  Brooke interrupted, “When you’re perfect. I get it.”

  Laughing with her, Colt kept his eyes on the road, checking the rearview mirrors out of habit, then scowled. “Are there usually a lot of park visitors this late in the day?”

  “In the summer there are. With most of the campgrounds still closed until May, we don’t get a lot of traffic after dark. Why?”

  He shrugged. “Nothing. Just wondering. It’s getting late and there are three cars coming up behind me.”

  Leaning to look in the side mirror, Brooke shrugged. “There are always people who think the rules don’t apply to them. They get up into the park, stop at the visitor center and then pitch a fit because they aren’t allowed to camp. It’s actually better when our roads are closed due to snow.”

  “Quieter, I’m sure,” Colt remarked, accelerating slightly and pulling ahead. “If I recall, there’s a turnoff coming up. Hang on while I make a fast turn.”

  “Do you think someone is after us?”

  “After you, maybe. There’s only one way to check. Are we getting close to that side road?”

  “Yes.” Brooke pointed. “It’s a left, just past the mileage sign.”

  “Okay. I’m going to shut off the lights. Here we go.”

  Colt hit the brakes. Knowing his K-9 was safely kenneled in the rear, he didn’t worry about skidding to turn the corner. “Made it.”

  There was no dust cloud to give them away, no sign that they were being evasive once Colt turned the key and the silver SUV stopped moving.

  He swiveled to look over his right shoulder. Brooke turned, too, also choosing the center of the vehicle. That put them in closer proximity than Colt was comfortable with, so he leaned away.

  “I’m not going to bite you,” she told him, sounding nervous in spite of her lighthearted words.

  “If I was scared of you, do you think I’d have you riding beside me in the front?”

  “Maybe, if it was best for Sampson.”

  “You’ve got me there,” he said. “One. Two...”

  “What happened to the third car? Didn’t you say there were three?”

  “I thought so.” Colt held his breath for the long seconds it took the last car to pass by the turnoff, then released it noisily and turned back to the steering wheel. “Well, that’s that. Their license plates should show up in security cameras. Once I’ve checked those against DMV records, we’ll have a better idea of whether or not there’s a real problem.”

  “Real is subjective, Colt. Those poor victims were more than real enough for me.” Her eyes widened. “Uh-oh.”

  “What?”

  She pointed behind them. “Look.”

  Backup lights had appeared at the side of the paved road. Brooke grabbed Colt’s arm. “They did see us.”

  Although he said, “Not necessarily,” he assumed otherwise. His brain was racing, along with his pulse. “Where does this road lead?”

  “To a service depot.”

  “Is there another way out from there?”

  “No,” she replied, and his heart sank. The sight of a shadowy figure exiting the other car and moving into the trees for cover told him he’d have to act. Soon. There was no place to turn around and if he followed the dirt road they’d be just as trapped as they were now. Plus, the longer he delayed, the more advantage their pursuer would have.

  “Hang on,” Colt ordered, then started the SUV, dropped the transmission into Reverse and floored the accelerator.

  Brooke braced herself with one hand against the dash, the other holding the grip bar mounted to the roof above the door.

  There was a gunshot. Colt yelled, “Get down!”

  Tires spun on the rough surface. The SUV rocketed backward onto the paved road, clipping the bumper of the parked car and shoving it aside as if it was a toy.

  He skidded to a stop just long enough to shift into Drive. If he’d been alone he’d have taken a defensive position, radioed for backup and waited until the shooter returned to make an arrest. Having Sampson in the rear and Brooke in the front changed everything. If he lingered, he’d be endangering both of them and that was against standard operating procedure. His first duty was to protect civilians, his second was to safeguard his canine partner whenever possible and his third was to apprehend suspects. Period.

  Something moved in his peripheral vision. A shadow took human form. A shooting stance. Colt stomped the accelerator and the vehicle jumped ahead with a screech of spinning tires and burning rubber.

  Another gunshot sounded. Squinting at the dark road ahead, he switched on the headlights. Half-blinded, he could only hope and pray that the shooter was affected.

  They were miles down the park road before he dared relax, and even then his adrenaline kept pumping.

  “Did—did we lose them?”

  “I think so. For now. I need to report the bumper-to-bumper collision.”

  “What if they follow us?”

  He huffed. “I hope they do because I’ll have backup then and maybe we can get a better description of the car or even a license number.” Flipping on the radio as he drove, he reported the incident and gave an estimate of how soon they’d arrive.

  * * *

  Brooke wanted to cry, to shout, to celebrate escape and thank her rescuer. She did none of those. “Who do you think that was shooting at us?”

  “I was about to ask you the same question.”

  “How should I know?” Hurt and a little miffed, she remained silent, trying to think of possibilities during the remainder of the trip. When Colt pulled into the yard, she noticed a distinct lack of snow. The ground had suffered so much foot traffic since she’d been gone that even the mud wasn’t too bad.

  She began to pat her jacket pockets, then remembered and looked over at him. “I gave you my keys.”

  “And I passed them to CSI. Don’t you have a spare?”

  “No.” This was an unexpected development. “I suppose they locked up when they were done.”

  “That’s SOP—standard operating procedure.”

  He started to get out so she followed. “Where are you going?”

  “To check the door,” Colt said.

  “If it’s locked, it’s locked.”

  “Never assume.”

  Brooke had to jog to catch up. Colt was on the small porch by the time she reached the bottom of the steps and looked up. He grasped the knob, turned it and the door opened.

  She put a hand on the railing to steady herself. “Uh-oh.”

  “You wait out here while I check.”

  Lots of arguments against his order occurred to her. She spoke none of them. What was worse, knowing there might be a prowler inside, or staying outside by herself? Neither choice was ideal so she split the difference and climbed the stairs to stand in the open doorway and watch him moving through the small cabin with his gun drawn.

  As he returned to her, he was holstering the weapon. “All clear.”

  “That’s a relief.”

  “I want you to walk through with me and see if you notice anything out of place or missing.”

  “I don’t have much worth stealing.”

  “No more guns in your arsenal?”

  “Not funny.” If she hadn’t been so glad to have him with her she might have told him to go away. Pride was one thing. Foolish pride was another.

  Brooke glanced around the main area, which served as a living room, with a fireplace at one end and a kitchenette at the other.

  The only thing she noticed missing was a framed photo of her parents holding her as a baby.

  Frowning, she turned to Colt. “There was a picture on the side table by that lamp. A photograph from twenty-eight years ago.”

  “Of you?”

  “My family.”

  “Okay. Anything else odd in here?”

  “I don’t believe so.” Brooke was thinking ahead of him and hurried to her bedroom. She had to step over piles of towels and sheets at the end of the short hallway to get through the door.

  Colt was right behind her. “I’ll help you clean up this mess before I go.”

  Brooke hardly registered what he was saying. The missing picture was lying on the floor next to one she’d had on her nightstand, also of her parents. Both frames had been broken, their protective glass shattered, images ruined, as if a boot heel had been ground into them. Tears started to well. She blinked them back. Nobody had a right to violate her home this way. Nobody. What could a prowler have against her parents? A bigger question was, what did all this have to do with murdered young men and somebody taking potshots at her and Colt for no apparent reason?

  “Somebody seems to have it in for your folks,” Colt said pensively. “What else do you have that connects you to them?”

  “Nothing, I...” Whirling, she yanked open the top drawer of her dresser and began pawing through its contents, finally tossing letters and trinkets to the floor as she eliminated them.

  “What is it? What are you looking for?”

  This time it was impossible to will away the tears and a few slid down her pale cheeks. She dashed them away. “I can’t believe they found it, let alone took it.”

  “Took what?”

  Brooke drew a shuddering breath and faced him. “My diamond tennis bracelet. My parents gave it to me for my sixteenth birthday. I used to wear it all the time, even to bed, but I stopped when I got this job because I was afraid I might lose it in the forest.”

  “Okay. Do you have a picture of it?”

  “No, but I imagine my dad had it insured.”

  Brooke realized how revealing her statement was when she noticed Colt’s surprised reaction. “Insured?”

  “Um, yes. He’s always been very cautious.”

  “Okay. I was just wondering how much the thing was worth. I mean, insuring it seems a little extreme.”

  “It was a coming-of-age gift.”

  “And?”

  “And, the links have diamonds set in them.”

  “And? Aren’t they usually chips with shiny metal around them to make them look more impressive?”

  “Some are,” Brooke admitted. “Mine were actual size.”

  Colt was staring at her as if he either didn’t grasp the significance, or was fighting to believe it. Given what he already knew, and the chance that her family fortune was behind the trouble she was having, she decided to explain.