“Hi,” she started. “I’m Kensie Morgan. I’m looking for my sister and—”
The kid shook his head, already going back to the handheld game partially hidden under the counter. “No woman’s been through here today.”
“It wouldn’t have been today. A few weeks ago, a note was left at Jasper’s General Store down the road and—”
“You’re looking for the kidnapped girl?” His head snapped back up, the game forgotten. “The news said she’s been missing for fourteen years.”
“That’s right. She has dark hair like mine. And brown eyes, a little darker than mine.” Were those things still true? Kensie assumed so, but had no way to really know. Maybe Alanna’s hair had been dyed or she wore colored contacts. Or maybe, now that they were all grown up, they looked nothing alike anymore.
The kid shrugged. “I only started here this week. I guess the last guy just walked out and didn’t come back, so here I am. It’s great, pretty quiet so I can do my homework.”
Kensie’s hopes sank. “So you don’t know if the owner saw anyone like that over the past few weeks, maybe around the time the note was left?”
“Sorry. But can I ask you—”
“Thanks.” She cut him off, not wanting to hear his questions about what had happened to her sister or what she worried had happened in all the years Alanna had been gone. Even the people who were sympathetic usually didn’t know how to walk the line between support and morbid curiosity. That line was a lot thinner than most people realized.
As she headed back the way she’d come, the door opened and a man as tall as Colter, but who looked a decade and a half older, walked in. “Hey, where’s Derrick?” he yelled across the store.
“Not working today,” the kid called back.
“Excuse me,” Alanna said, her hopes lifting again. “Do you live around here?”
“Yeah.” The man turned deep brown eyes on her as he drew out the word, scowling.
That angry scowl. It was vaguely familiar. Kensie’s heart rate picked up as she realized why. It reminded her of the man who’d taken Alanna.
Fourteen years ago, he’d climbed out of the passenger seat of a dark blue sedan, wearing all blue—jeans and a lightweight sweater. His long arms had stretched out and yanked her sister right off her feet. Alanna had let out a muffled squeak and then Kensie had screamed loudly enough that it should have brought the entire city running.
He’d met her gaze for mere seconds. She hadn’t been able to tell his eye color from across the yard, but he’d been scowling. A deep, intense scowl she’d never forget. He’d been about the age this guy would have been back then, too. His hair had been more brown, whereas this guy had streaks of gray, but that might have just been time.
Kensie let out a small laugh, earning her a perplexed—and slightly concerned—look from the man. It was weird, but she’d done this repeatedly over the years. She’d see someone on the street and everything in her would go unnaturally still, even her breathing. Then adrenaline would kick in, sending her heart and mind into overdrive. A few minutes later, she’d come to her senses. The psychiatrist her parents had forced her to see for a few sessions as a kid had given it a name, but Kensie couldn’t remember it.
She’d gotten such a brief look at Alanna’s kidnapper. She probably wouldn’t have been able to identify him fourteen years ago, let alone now.
The man started to walk away and Kensie grabbed his arm, surprised at the ropey strength beneath the thick jean jacket. His arm flexed and he jerked it free, almost knocking her down.
“You need something, lady?” He looked her up and down, studying her too intently. He might have been good-looking in some circumstances, but the anger curling his lips and raking harsh lines across his forehead ruined it.
She held her hands up. “Sorry. It’s just—you’ve lived here awhile?”
“Yeah, why?”
She tried a smile, hoping it would soften him up. “You know the regulars, it sounds like, and I’m looking for someone.”
He shifted, angling away from her. His gaze darted from the kid behind the counter to the big garage door at the other end of the space. Then he stared back at her suspiciously. “Who?”
“My sister. She was kidnapped a long time ago.”
“Your sister, huh?” He scowled some more. “From where?”
“The Midwest.” The words came out without conscious thought. Normally she said Chicago, but even telling herself she was being crazy, something about this guy was getting her radar up. He might just be unfriendly. Or maybe he actually knew something and she needed to tread carefully. Would getting too specific about Alanna—if he actually did know her, if by some crazy fluke he really was the person who’d grabbed her all those years ago—scare him away?
The guy’s head swiveled back and forth between the doors again. “I don’t know your sister, lady.”
“But—”
He spun back the way he’d come, darting a glance over his shoulder as he threw the door open, then practically ran outside.
Kensie swore under her breath then ran after him, yanking her phone out of her pocket. She skidded to a stop in the snow outside as he leaped into a truck.
With shaky hands, she snapped a photo of him. For one second, he froze, like he might jump out and rip the phone from her hands. Then the truck flew backward out of the lot, and slammed to a stop before changing direction and racing away.
HE NEEDED TO get out more.
The thought surprised Colter. Usually, when he came to
