“Evidence?”

  Colt glanced at his coat. “It looks like a piece of fabric torn from a park ranger’s uniform. With Sampson’s drool all over it, I doubt there’s any salvageable DNA but I bagged it, anyway. I’ll bring it with me when I stop by headquarters.”

  “Do you want me to see about getting you a chopper or will you drive over?”

  “I’d rather fly. It’s quicker. I’ll need to clear it with Donovan and arrange for Brooke to accompany me so I’m not sure of the time.”

  “Okay. Just be careful. I don’t know what’s going on but too many people are turning up dead.”

  “One is too many,” Colt said firmly, and his thoughts immediately added, like my mother.

  * * *

  Brooke made do with the standard amenities in the rental cabin and the personal things she’d picked at her place. As she changed into jeans, a long-sleeve shirt and her work boots, she wondered if she’d be allowed to go home once they got the broken door repaired. Only if she still had a job, and that depended upon locating and capturing whoever was leaving identical DNA behind. A twin! An identical twin. Who would have thought it?

  The notion of pursuing and apprehending a person who looked just like her, who shared her DNA, who had the same birth parents, was hard to process. The concept was bizarre. Little wonder Henning and others didn’t want to accept her innocence without proof. If she’d been in their shoes she would have doubted, too.

  Brooke was startled by a knock on her door. “Who is it?”

  “Me. Colt. And Sampson.”

  Relief flooded her. Struggling to calm her jumpy nerves, she answered the door. “Whew. I was afraid it was my stalker.”

  Stepping back, she gestured for them to enter. “Come on in. Both of you.”

  “Thanks.” Colt was eyeing her from head to toe as if they had never met.

  She scowled. “What?”

  “Nothing. I’ve just never seen you wear anything but your uniform and that ugly jumpsuit.”

  “It feels kind of strange to me, too. Anything that isn’t green seems wrong, you know?”

  Grinning, he held out his free arm to display his own shade of green via his official PNK9 Unit jacket. “I do.”

  “What brings you by so early?”

  “We need to make plans, and I thought it was better to talk it over face-to-face.”

  “Gotcha. I found some coffee and brewed a pot. Can I offer you a cup?”

  “Please.” Colt kept Sampson at heel, in spite of the fact the K-9 wasn’t wearing his working vest, and went to the small table next to the makeshift kitchen.

  Brooke was glad he let her hand him the mug of steaming coffee before he said, “My tech expert hasn’t been able to reach the adoption agency your parents used. Their phone’s been disconnected.”

  She plopped into the only other chair and leaned her elbows on the table. “Oh, dear.”

  “Is that all you have to say?”

  Brooke almost laughed. She did smile. “Haven’t you heard? I save all the colorful language for small children and park visitors.”

  “Yeah. Good thing you were with me when that happened.”

  “Very good. I might even say it was providential.”

  “Maybe it was.” He paused to carefully sip from the mug. “And maybe there’s more to come—at least, I hope there is. I’ve spoken with my chief. He’s arranged for a helicopter to pick us up and fly us to Hungry Horse to have a look around. It’s possible we’ll be able to turn up the people who run—or used to run—the adoption agency.”

  “Do you really think so?” There was no way she could hide her enthusiasm.

  “No way to tell unless we try.”

  “Will I need to pack a bag?”

  “I assume it will be a day trip by chopper, but it wouldn’t hurt to bring a few things. We’ll be stopping by the training center at Olympia so I can drop off Sampson for some R and R.”

  She heard the K-9’s heavy tail thumping on the floor when he heard his name. “Too bad you can’t take him along.”

  “Not this time. He needs a break and I want the unit vet to give him a health check.”

  That was worrisome. “He’s okay, isn’t he?”

  “I think so. Just playing it safe. And it’ll be a good opportunity for me to show you around my base of operations.”

  “I’d love that. When do you want to leave?”

  “Ten minutes ago,” Colt quipped. “We can grab breakfast on the way to the helipad.”

  Although she tried to mask her apprehension, Brooke’s hands trembled slightly as she carried her mug to the sink.

  Colt noticed. “Are you okay?”

  “Sure. I’ve always wanted to hang in the air on a little, thin propeller and shoot up through the trees into the clouds. Whoopee.”

  “Not a fan of flying?”

  “Not a fan of leaving solid ground, truth be told. If God had wanted man to fly, He’d have given him wings.”

  Colt laughed. “He gave us the brains to build airplanes instead. It’s not like I’m asking you to become a test pilot.” He continued to chuckle and grin. “Sampson’s not a bit scared.”

  “Sampson is a big, goofy, drooling creature with ears bigger than my feet and feet as big as my fist.” She started to reach to pat the dog’s broad head. “He’s out of uniform so it’s okay to give him affection, right?”

  “This time, I guess. Just don’t get too attached. He’s supposed to be bonded with me.”

  Brooke had already bent to cup the huge head in her hands, ears and all, and was looking deeply into the bloodhound’s eyes. “It’s as if he understands my thoughts.” She looked to Colt. “Do you get the same feeling?”

  “Yes, I do.” Color infused his cheeks, as if he was embarrassed, then he laughed and added, “Makes me really glad he can’t talk.”

  * * *

  The morning mist was thick and clouds encircled the peak of Mount Rainier as Colt piloted his SUV toward the Nisqually exit of the park and the small airport where they were to board the helicopter.

  “It’s so beautiful up here,” Brooke said dreamily.

  “I like it better when the fog lifts and the sun comes out. It’s safer driving, too.”

  “True.” She passed him a take-out cup of coffee. “Here you go. No cream and two sugars. Let me know when you want your breakfast sandwich.”

  “We should have half an hour or so while we wait for our ride,” Colt said. “I’ll eat then.”

  “Okay.”

  Seeing her close the take-out bag and set it aside, he smiled. “That doesn’t mean you have to wait. Go ahead. Enjoy.”

  “You’re sure? I don’t want you to feel left out like your poor, starving dog back there.”

  “He’ll live. He had his usual big breakfast before I left the lodge this morning.”

  “Why didn’t you eat then?” Brooke asked.

  Colt shrugged, sensing his cheeks warming again and ruing his blond coloring. “I thought I’d wait and share a meal with you. You don’t mind, do you?”

  “Not at all.” She unwrapped one of the identical sandwiches and took a bite. “This is really good. Are you sure you don’t want a taste before it gets cold? I can hold it for you.”

  Instead of waiting for his reply, she unwrapped the second sandwich enough to expose half of it, folded back the paper and swiveled to face him. “Here you go. Bite.”

  “Not while I’m driving.” Colt knew his response was abrupt and perhaps too harsh-sounding, but he’d spotted something odd in his rearview mirrors and didn’t want to be distracted.

  “Okay, okay. Sorry.”

  The way she shrank back in the passenger seat and averted her gaze told him he’d hurt her feelings. That bothered him, but he had no time to apologize.

  He took a few seconds to recheck traffic behind them, then explained, “I didn’t want to worry you, Brooke, but I think we’re being followed.”

  “What?” Her head snapped around. “Where? Who?”

  “I don’t know for sure. Besides the fact that we’re not supposed to do anything but drive when we’re behind the wheel, I didn’t want to be distracted by eating, just in case.”

  “Just in case what?” The sandwiches were already stowed and she was evidently looking for a secure place to put her hot coffee.

  “In case it’s necessary to try to lose our tail.”

  “On these roads? There’s no place to go except straight ahead.”

  He had to agree. “These low clouds don’t help, either. Even if I knew this road by heart it would be foolish to speed.”

  “What are we going to do?”

  “Stay safe.” Which was Colt’s goal at all times, especially when transporting his K-9 partner. Adding another human, particularly Brooke Stevens, to the equation increased his problems exponentially.

  Clutching the steering wheel tightly, he accelerated. All four tires gripped the damp pavement. Much of the road meandered through a forest. It was the part that ran along the sides of the mountain and included drop-offs and cliffs that worried him most.

  Just when Colt was ready to take a deep breath and consider them in the clear, more fog appeared. Shady sides of the canyons were cooler and held the moisture suspended until sunlight finally dissipated it later in the day. He’d traveled roads like this before but never moving this fast unless responding to an active crime scene, and never with passengers, human or canine.

  The engine continued to roar as he backed off the gas. “I just want to get to Ashford,” Colt shouted across to Brooke. “Make sure your belt is tight.”

  She was peering in the passenger-side mirror and the pitch of her voice was higher than normal. “What do you see?”

  Another looping curve appeared out of the fog. Colt steered into it expertly, even when it immediately turned back on itself. That’s when he again saw the vehicle behind them. A large box truck was negotiating the first part of the snakelike turn. If it wasn’t chasing them, its driver was unhinged because he was barely keeping the truck on the road.

  “Look now,” Colt countered, inclining his head to point.

  “That truck?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s probably okay. They deliver groceries up here all the time,” Brooke said, sounding hopeful.

  Colt wasn’t about to slow down. Not with the truck gaining on them. “Do they always drive as though they have no brakes?”

  “No, but...”

  Colt wasn’t about to rely on her misplaced complacency. “You can ask the driver the next time you see him. Or her. Right now, I’m busy getting out of the way.”

  “These roads are dangerous enough on a good day. Stop and let me out if you’re going to drive like you think you’re on a racetrack.”

  “Seriously?”

  Brooke made a wry face. “No.”

  He glanced in the mirror just as the truck’s headlights showed that it was rounding the second half of the S curve. “Too late for that, anyway. Here he comes. Hang on!”

  TEN

  Brooke wanted to scream and would have if she hadn’t feared startling Colt and causing him to make an error. She could see the delivery truck pretty clearly in her side mirror when their SUV turned to the right. Other times, it seemed to disappear.

  There was no place to get on her knees and pray so she simply cast her eyes to the sky as she looked through the windshield and called silently for God to rescue them. Instead of cessation of the chase, however, the larger truck clipped the rear bumper of Colt’s SUV.

  It shimmied. He corrected and kept it on the road.

  “Did they just ram us?” Brooke yelled.

  “Felt like it.”

  Managing to turn in her seat enough to look out the rear window, past the specially constructed compartment designed to keep Sampson safe, she caught a glimpse of something that stole her breath. She gasped, then clapped a hand over her mouth.

  “What is it? What do you see?”

  “That driver. It’s a woman, and she looks exactly like me. It’s like a bad photo.”

  “Is she alone?”

  “I think so.” Brooke sensed the SUV slowing. “What are you doing?”

  “Arresting her as soon as I find a place to pull over. I’m armed. There’s no reason to keep running away if she doesn’t have any backup.”

  A sense of dread flowed over and through Brooke, making her shiver. “Be careful.”

  “Always.”

  “Yeah, well...”

  “You just stay in the car with Sampson while I deal with your look-alike, okay? I can handle this.”

  She wanted to believe him, wanted to tell him she had complete confidence in his abilities, and she did, with reservations. There was cunning and dangerously twisted thinking involved here. Anybody who could go around killing innocent people couldn’t be dealt with rationally or predictably. That was what Colt needed to keep in mind.

  “Look, just because this woman looks like me and has the same DNA, don’t be fooled,” Brooke warned. “We know she’s not the same. Not one bit.”

  Colt glanced over at her and took his eyes off the road for a mere instant.

  From the corner of her eye, Brooke saw the truck looming behind them. “Look out!”

  His reactions were not quite fast enough. The truck hit them on one side of the rear bumper and sent the SUV careening into the cliffside. Metal crunched, folded, tore. The tires began to slide as Colt tried to correct their course. Then, they were airborne.

  Tree branches and wet vegetation slapped against the windshield, obliterating the view. Brooke raised her arms to protect her face. Glass shattered into spiderweb patterns.

  “Colt!”

  In the brief seconds it took for the trees and plants to halt the SUV’s descent, he didn’t answer. Images flashed through Brooke’s mind but she wasn’t reviewing her life, she was picturing what might lie ahead and it wasn’t pretty.

  Then it was over. They stopped moving. Colt turned the key and without the engine noise, the silence was startling. So was the fact that they hadn’t plunged all the way to the bottom of the canyon. Stalwart firs had saved them.

  Brooke started to reach for the door handle. Colt stopped her and said sharply, “No. Don’t move. I’ll call for help.”

  “What if she comes back?”

  “We’ll see her if she does. Right now she probably thinks she finished us.” Colt eased off his seat belt so he could turn enough to check on Sampson.

  Brooke was concerned, too. “Is he okay?”

  “Yes. The traveling compartment protected him much better than a crate would have.”

  “That’s a relief.” She listened as he radioed for assistance and gave their GPS coordinates. Behind her, in the area constructed specifically for K-9 transport, she could hear Sampson panting. He was also pacing back and forth as much as the small space allowed.

  The vehicle shuddered. Jerked. Moved enough to slip past one of the Douglas firs and start to slue sideways.

  Brooke gasped. One look at Colt told her he was just as concerned. Again, she reached for the handle of her door. This time, he nodded. “Slowly. Move as little as possible and ease it open. Don’t let it fall forward.”

  Every nerve in her body was firing. Tremors shook her in spite of an immense effort at self-control. As soon as she opened the door as far as it could go, she looked to Colt. “What about you?”

  “This side of the car is caved in. I’m not sure the doors will work. I want you to slide out and get clear before I try my side.”

  “What about Sampson?”

  Colt pressed a button on his key fob and when a panel between the front and back seats lifted, he blocked the exit with his hand. “You first,” he said to Brooke. “When you’re clear, I’ll release him. I want you to call him to you and grab his collar for me.”

  “Okay. Now?”

  “Yes.”

  The mere effort to swing her feet around and out the open door caused the SUV to shift again. She froze, waiting. When she was convinced it wouldn’t go any farther, she pushed off and stood.

  The slope was steep and the ground foliage was so wet with dew and fog that her feet slipped. Dropping to her knees on purpose, Brooke began to crawl away, getting better purchase by grabbing fists full of plant material to pull herself along. Reaching a hemlock sapling, she used it to help her stand and turned back to face the tilted SUV.

  “All right. I’m clear,” she called.

  The tan blur of a galloping bloodhound came straight up the slope. Sampson circled her and the small tree she was holding on to, then plopped at her feet, looking quite pleased with himself.

  “We’re okay. C’mon,” she called to Colt.

  Slight movement inside the SUV was followed immediately by another shudder and further descent of at least a foot. The tires were tearing swaths in the tender ferns and mosses, leaving tracks in the mud and loose rocks below them.

  Brooke caught her breath. Fervent prayer was easy. “No, no, no. Please, God, no.”

  The SUV jerked again and slid another few inches sideways. In the distance, she could hear sirens. That would have been a lot more comforting if her friend and rescuer was not still in such a precarious position.

  “Help is almost here,” she shouted, knowing that Colt’s rescue could come too late and wondering why the thought of anything happening to him felt like a knife to her heart. Of course, she cared—she cared for all people, she argued, hoping to circumvent the growing realization that this particular man was so special to her. They hardly knew each other and yet her feelings were honest. And strong. And undeniable.

  Holding tight to Sampson’s collar with one hand and the sapling with the other, she asked God to protect Colt with all the faith and all the fervor she could manage. He did matter to her, more than she would have suspected if she hadn’t been afraid she was about to watch him fall to his death.