Sara shook her head. Someone had found a wool blanket for her and draped it around her soaked form. She huddled into it now, wishing its warmth could banish the chill in her veins.
The detectives gaze flicked to the man beside her. How about you, Mr. Doucet?
I never got a look at him. Nick reached over, took one of Saras icy hands in both of his. She gave it a discreet tug, but he held it firmly. He never turned around.
So you shot him in the back.
The detectives voice was carefully expressionless. Nicks was not. I shot him in the center of the right shoulder blade so hed drop the gun he had aimed at Amber. He did.
Sensing some undertone at play between the two men, Sara gave up the struggle to free her hand and studied them. Physically, they were almost opposites. They may have been around the same age, but Chatfield was taller, broader. His face was as enigmatic as Nicks, just as hard, but he was blond and blue eyed, in contrast to Nicks darkness. There was no mistaking the cops toughness, but for some reason it was Nick who seemed the more dangerous.
I suppose you have a permit to carry concealed?
Silently Nick rose, withdrew his wallet and flipped it open. He passed it to the other man, who studied the permit before nodding, handing it back. Wheres your weapon now?
I gave it to the first uniform on the scene.
Chatfield raked him with a quick glance. Ankle holster? He waited for Nicks nod before asking, What did you say you were doing in the alley, Mr. Doucet?
There was an unsettling glitter in Nicks eyes, but his tone was civil enough. Amber and I had parted several minutes earlier. Id forgotten to give her back one of her bags.
She looked at him, surprised. In her hurry to get away from him earlier that day shed completely forgotten the sack of fruit hed insisted on carrying for her. An involuntary shudder worked through her. If Nicks kisses hadnt completely shattered her logic, if shed been capable of remembering to collect the bag before leaving him, shed be dead right now. The cold certainty of that fact formed a brick of ice in her chest.
Settling back in his chair, Nick said, Wouldnt your time be better spent trying to find the guy who tried to kill her instead of going over all this information again?
Imperturbably, Chatfield picked up his pen. Ive got uniforms canvassing the area. From the amount of blood he lost, I doubt he got far. His gaze shifted to Sara again. Ms. Jennings, lets go over your statement again. You said the man didnt ask for your purse, for money. Did he say anything?
Her chest squeezed tight as she sensed the minefield ahead. He said something, but I couldnt understand it. I thought he was talking to someone else. When I turned around, I saw his gun.
The detective scribbled a note. Did you catch any of it at all?
She manufactured a tired smile, strove to hide the tension in her body. When I noticed the gun I didnt pay attention to much else.
I think he mistook Amber for someone else. The name he called out was Sara. Sara Parker.
Nicks words sent a slice of panic tearing through her. She hadnt guessed that hed been close enough to hear the gunmans words. It took effort to keep her features impassive as Chatfield raised his brows, looked at her. Do you know who this Sara Parker is?
She shook her head, but the detective didnt look convinced. Shes not a friend of yours, maybe? Someone who has an enemy? Cuz maybe this guy didnt mistake you for her, after all. Maybe he thought you could lead him to her.
I dont know anyone by that name. Her voice was firm, and her words were at least partially true. It had been a long time since shed been Sara Parker. Shed left that identity half a country away, at least a lifetime ago.
Youre on the wrong track, Nick said bluntly. His fingers squeezed hers lightly, a reminder that he was holding her hand. This guy wasnt after anyone else. He thought Amber was Parker, and she was going to die for it.
The detective made another notation on his pad. Did he say anything else?
Nick paused, glanced at Sara. When she didnt answer he said, I couldnt make out everything. But I could have sworn I heard him mention Chicago.
Chatfield lifted a shoulder. Well, who knows. Well tug on those strings, see if they lead anywhere. His gaze shifted to a point behind them, and he rose. Excuse me for a minute, would you, please?
Saras well-defined flight instinct was screaming at her, urging her to flee. She quelled it with effort. She couldnt stay in New Orleans now, of course. Her story, her identity, wouldnt stand up to scrutiny. If anyone started digging theyd find that Amber Jennings from Detroit, Michigan, had died twenty years ago. And it wouldnt be long before that discovery led to the next, far more risky one.
She didnt intend to stick around that long. Shed be packed and headed out of the state within an hour of leaving the station. It wasnt as though she lacked experience disappearing. Shed vanished dozens of times before.
But rarely had the thought left her feeling this desolated. And she didnt want to examine the source of that feeling too closely.
Are you warming up, chérie? Nicks voice sounded low and caressing in her ear, and she nodded, despite the chill that seemed to permeate her system. Your hands are still like ice.
Well, I cant say that Im not looking forward to a hot shower.
The detective should have enough for today. Ill tell him Im taking you home. You could always come back in tomorrow. Nick rose and crossed the room before she could protest. Shed have to devise a way to dislodge him so she could make her escape. But for now, at least, she was grateful for a few moments to herself. The stress of the pretense she was engaged in, on top of her brush with death, was overloading a system already taxed by her unfamiliar reaction to Doucet.
What the hell do you mean, theres no trace of him?
Sara jerked, startled by the note of menace in Nicks voice. She turned to see him standing nearby with two police officers she didnt recognize, and the detective. Chatfield ushered them all to the table. The gunman hasnt been found, Miss Jennings. Im sorry.
Her stomach dropped at the detectives words. Moistening her lips, she said, Buthe was wounded. How could he have
We think he may have had a car waiting nearby. But that doesnt mean were not going to find him. If he shows up at a clinic or hospital, well get word of it.
If. The word reverberated in her mind. And surely the gunman would avoid seeking medical attention for that very reason. Which made it all the more imperative that she vanish quickly. Completely. Shed escaped the hit man in Phoenix three years ago, hadnt she? It was more comfortable to ignore the niggling inner voice that suggested maybe her escape that time had been sheer luck.
And maybe her luck was running out.
With a flick of his hand, Chatfield dismissed the officers and sank down in a chair opposite Sara, studying her gravely. Miss Jennings, I want you to know theres still a good chance were gonna catch this guy. I want you to go through a few books of mug shots, see if you recognize him. And Ill follow up on that mistaken-identity lead, because it seems like we might have hit the jackpot on that one.