“It’s a resources thing.” She paraphrased what she’d been told hundreds of times over the years. Police always had to work on new cases, missing persons who hadn’t been gone for years, who had a higher chance of rescue. The longer someone was missing, the less chance they had of ever being found.
Years ago, they’d first learned the realities about Alanna coming home as months went by with less and less interest from the police and the community. Her parents had made a promise. They’d do whatever it took to be sure that wasn’t Alanna’s fate.
But fourteen years of disappointment and two other children who needed them had taken its toll. Kensie knew it was her turn to take up the torch and keep that promise.
She stared expectantly at Colter, sensing his next words would be a wary agreement to try and help.
But he just shook his head sadly. “Believe me, I understand your pain, Kensie. Probably better than you realize. But I’m no good for you. I’m no good for anyone. I can’t help you.”
MAYBE SHE WAS CRAZY.
It wasn’t just her parents and Flynn who’d begged her not to fly out to Alaska on a questionable piece of evidence and a thin thread of hope. It was also her friends, the ones who’d been by her side since childhood, who’d watched how the constant surge of hope followed by inevitable, bitter disappointment had almost torn them all apart.
She’d overheard family friends talking about how Flynn’s car accident had been a necessary wake-up call for her parents, reminding them they still had two children who needed them. And in some ways, it had. But it had also been the day they’d decided to accept something Kensie never would: that Alanna was gone for good.
But right now, hopelessness reared up.
After his announcement that he wouldn’t help her, Colter had gone outside to dig out her truck over her objections. The whole time he’d been gone, she was worried he’d hurt his leg or freeze out there. But he’d bundled up in much better winter gear than she owned and forty-five minutes later, he’d reappeared.
She could tell he was trying to hide how badly his leg hurt, so she’d forced herself to keep quiet rather than asking. But guilt had followed her closely as Colter drove behind her rental all the way back into town. She’d parked by the police station where she’d first seen him playing fetch with Rebel, rolled down her window and debated what to say. She’d known him only a few hours and yet she’d been struggling to say goodbye.
Apparently, he had no such quandary. He’d given her a wave, a solemn “Good luck,” and off he and Rebel had gone.
She’d probably never see them again.
The idea left a bad taste in her mouth.
But right now, she had to figure out how to move forward. She’d come here alone, with no expectation of help from an ex-Marine with investigative and tracking experience. Nothing had changed. She could still do this alone.
As many times as she told herself that, she still felt Colter’s absence like a huge blow to her goal of finding Alanna. And maybe a little bit of a personal blow, too, although she didn’t know him well enough to feel anything more than unsatisfied lust.
“Get over it,” Kensie muttered. If Colter wouldn’t help her, she’d do it herself.
After her experience slamming into that snowbank up near Colter’s cabin, her first stop should have been to get better winter gear. But down in the main part of town, the snow was slowing and the accumulation was much less. Only an inch or two of slushy white coated the streets.
More than a pair of warm boots, Kensie needed a mental boost. Something had to go right, something to reassure her that she wasn’t chasing a ghost. Maybe there would be a lead at the store where the note had been found. If she could locate the store itself.
Having an immediate goal made Kensie feel better. She steeled herself as she stepped out of her rental and back into the cold, but couldn’t stop the shiver that raced up her spine. As quickly as possible, she stomped back into the grocery store where the woman had helped her before.
The instant Kensie walked inside, the woman—who was probably the owner as well as the cashier—looked up. Her steel-gray eyes, the same shade as her long braid, were sharp and knowing. “He was no help?”
Kensie shrugged in response, not wanting to badmouth Colter after he’d whipped her up a pot of cocoa, warmed her hands between his own and dug her truck out of the snow despite a badly injured leg. “It was a silly idea,” she said instead.
The woman let out a grunt that sounded like she disagreed. “What else do you need?”
A small smile tugged at Kensie’s lips. Living in a place like this must teach you to read people. As the bell dinged behind her, announcing another customer, Kensie said, “Colter Hayes has his own troubles. But I still need to find the store where the note was found. Do you think you could draw me a map? The roads are really confusing out here.”
“That’s because our roads are what you city folk would call hiking trails. Honey, you might want to wait until the snow clears. It’s out on the edge of town—so far out, most people don’t even think of it as part of Desparre. Owned by a cranky old guy who’s as likely to close for the day as not if the mood strikes.”
Ignoring the little voice in her head reminding her what had happened when she insisted on driving to Colter’s place in this weather, Kensie shook her head. “I want to try today. I need some good news right now.”
“He might not have any.”
“I know,” Kensie said over the lump that had risen in her throat. She swallowed
