Years of coordinating with law enforcement and private cold-case groups had also taught her the other possibility, which in some ways was even worse. “Or it could mean she’s so afraid of her kidnapper or so conditioned to obey him that even given the chance to run, she won’t take it.”
In Colter’s eyes, she saw understanding and sadness. As a soldier, he’d probably seen cases like that, captives who’d been tortured so badly that even when they saw a chance to escape, they were too terrified to try.
If that was what had happened with her sister—if the note was a final, desperate plea for someone to find her because she couldn’t manage to run on her own—what shape would she be in if they located her?
Would the Alanna she’d known still be in there? Or would the woman Alanna had become be a hollow shell of the girl she’d once been?
If that was the case, Kensie wasn’t sure either of them would ever recover from what happened in Desparre.
Chapter Eight
Kensie was discouraged.
He never should have asked her about the note. If Colter had been thinking, he would have realized the implications without her having to tell him.
He didn’t like that she knew what it meant. Not that he thought she was naive or clueless, but as much as he didn’t want a connection, he couldn’t deny that he cared about Kensie. Hopefully she wouldn’t be in Desparre for long. He wanted a happy ending for her and her sister. He wished she’d had an uncomplicated life, without sorrow or tragedy.
Those things were for soldiers like him.
It was a ridiculous, unrealistic way to think, but there it was. He’d become a soldier for a lot of reasons, but one of them was because he wanted to make a difference. He liked to protect people. And that instinct was kicking up harder than usual with Kensie.
Apparently Rebel felt the same way, because even though she wasn’t supposed to, she swiveled on her butt and dropped her head into Kensie’s lap. Kensie looked surprised for a second, then laughed and started petting his dog again.
If he wasn’t careful, Rebel was going to want to follow Kensie back to Chicago. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to want to do the same thing.
Colter pushed out the crazy thought and tried to distract Kensie. After they’d talked to the restaurant owner, she’d wanted to drive immediately out to Derrick’s house. But his question had gotten her upset and he didn’t want her going to Derrick’s that way. The guy was prickly on his best day. He’d be a huge pain if Kensie was confrontational. Especially since Colter knew he was likely to become confrontational if Derrick didn’t cooperate. If they were going to get answers out of the guy, they needed Kensie’s soft touch.
So, he’d ordered the restaurant’s famous wild berry cobbler and pushed the plate toward her as soon as it arrived. She’d only picked at it initially, but the longer they’d sat, the bigger her bites had gotten. The place was famous for its cobbler for a reason.
“Tell me about your sister. What was she like?” Colter asked now, hoping to fill her mind with good memories she could draw on to win over Derrick if needed.
Kensie paused, a bite of cobbler halfway to her mouth. A sad smile tugged her lips. “She was goofy and fun. Even at five, we were already predicting she’d be homecoming queen or class president when she got older. Probably both. She was always the center of attention, always in the middle of the party. It was funny, because both me and Flynn—who’s halfway between me and Alanna in age—were shy and serious. Bookish, my mom called us.”
Colter smiled, because that wasn’t how he saw Kensie at all. Maybe she’d outgrown her shyness or maybe she had an inaccurate perception of herself as a child, but she drew people to her with ease. He couldn’t picture her ever being on the sidelines.
“Before Alanna went missing, I was teaching her to play violin.” Kensie’s smile turned wistful. “She’d seen me play and she wanted to be just like me.”
“You were close?”
“Yeah. We were eight years apart, but we always had a special bond. Whenever I play now, I think of Alanna.”
“You still play?”
“I’m a violinist in an orchestra back home. That’s my job.” Suddenly seeming to realize she’d been holding a forkful of cobbler, Kensie stuffed it into her mouth.
She played at such a high level that she did it for a living? He pictured her with a violin in her hand, bow flying across the strings, her eyes intense with concentration. “I’d love to hear you play.”
Kensie’s lips tipped upward, but there was still sadness in her eyes. She swallowed and told him, “I don’t have my violin.”
Of course not. It was back at home, with the rest of her family. A family who was probably waiting anxiously for Kensie to return—and hopefully bring with her the sister they hadn’t seen in fourteen years.
It was a huge responsibility to carry alone.
He wanted to promise her they’d find Alanna. That he’d help her carry that load. But he knew it was an empty promise, so he didn’t say it. Sure, he’d do what he could to give her access to the locals, to get her safely wherever she needed to go. But that was as much as he could do, and he knew it was nothing compared to what she needed. Compared to what she deserved.
“Why don’t you have a boyfriend or a husband up here with you?”
The question was rude, and he regretted it the instant it came out of his mouth. Even Rebel lifted her head from Kensie’s lap to eye him over the table, as if she disapproved.
“Sorry. None of my business,” he said before she could answer.
“No boyfriend or husband. It’s hard to...”
She trailed off, and it took him
