Doranna Durgin - Survival Instinct

But he had to try, or it’d be Terry Williams all over again, lost and never found. “I do consultation work with various legal authorities-FBI, most often. Missing persons cases. Kidnapped children.”

The eyebrow went up. “Not kidnapped adults?”

“These days,” Dave said, somewhat reassured to hear the familiar dry tone in his own voice, “kids can use all the help they can get.”

Her eyes widened but went so quickly back to normal that he almost missed it. Her assertive stance softened slightly, and he didn’t miss that, either. “I see. And you were asking me about-?”

Finally. “Terry Williams-an eight-year-old who disappeared in Melton Run Park. You were there, not far away. We discussed who you’d seen there, and you looked at some mug shots for me.”

She nodded vaguely; he wasn’t sure if that meant she remembered or simply that she understood. When she looked at him again, it was with such an intense expression that it took him unaware. “Did you find him? The boy?”

Ah. She really didn’t remember. Regret tightened his chest. “No.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, and this time she wasn’t sardonic or assertive or distant. Her honest response created a sudden connection between them, one strong enough to make Dave blink. And then it was gone, and she added, “But I don’t know why you’re here now. I do know you’ve interrupted my work and upset my dog, and that you’ll gain nothing from it.”

Upset her dog. Right. Even now the damn dog eyed Dave, looking for an excuse to start it up all over again.

But at last, they’d come to the point. “I’m here because I still think you might have seen something in the park that day. You might not even know it was of importance-”

“What does it matter now, if he’s dead?”

“Because now seven-year-old Rashawn Little is missing. I think the same man has him, and I need your help to find him.”

“You must be desperate.” That’s what Karin had said to Dave Hunter, but she might as well have said it to herself. Why else would she have let him on the porch, suggesting he have a seat on the picnic-table bench while she fixed some sun tea?

Yeah, she was desperate, all right. Desperate to pull off her Ellen role in front of someone who’d known Ellen. Not someone who’d known her long or well, but a trained investigator. A man who drank in details-and remembered them.

She’d seen his hesitation. He’d known she wasn’t the same woman. She’d managed to overcome the doubt with pure brazen bluffing, but deep down he still knew. He’d figure it out if she let him stick around, and then he’d figure out there was a California warrant out for her arrest.

Problem was, she knew too well what it was like to be a child in trouble with no one to turn to.

Problem was…she couldn’t afford to draw attention. To give Rumsey any excuse to contact her again-or to realize that Karin lived, in spite of the information the police had given him when he’d called after the accident.

A year ago, maintaining Ellen’s identity wouldn’t have been so much of a problem. Ellen hadn’t known anyone here long enough to have close friends-and Karin had been careful to emulate every subtle thing Ellen had been. Finally she’d let the Karin side of her nature blend in. And she’d never intended to connect with anyone from Ellen’s city life, people with whom Ellen had cut ties so sufficiently that no one even called her in the hospital.

You might have warned me, she told her sister. All that time in the car, and you couldn’t come up with one little word about something like this? About someone like this? She dropped a few ice cubes into a tall plastic cup-very classy-and closed her eyes. Broad shoulders meant to carry a suit, elegantly lean build, gold-glinting blond hair just long enough to get mussed, expression all business…

At least, until he’d seen Dewey. She smiled, dropped ice into a cup for herself and smiled again. He’d tried so hard to look casual, standing there doing all the wrong things.

But her smile was gone by the time she returned to the porch. She pulled Ellen’s sweatshirt closer and leaned against the house beside the bench on which Hunter sat. The bright March sun wasn’t enough to touch the chill of warning along her spine. She couldn’t afford the interest an investigation like Hunter’s could stir up. But she couldn’t send him away with a simple refusal; it would be like throwing away a boomerang.

If he wasn’t the persistent type, he’d have gotten right back into that car when Dewey Lake showed those capable teeth.

“Look,” she said, finding just the right note of reluctance, “I’d like to help you-”

“But you won’t,” he finished for her.

“I don’t think you were listening.” She kept her voice quiet. She couldn’t backstep all the way to Ellen-ness, not after the greeting he’d gotten, but she could lean that way. “What makes you think I can remember anything about that day?”

“I don’t know,” he said, and he sounded so reasonable, sitting there on the hard picnic-table bench in his suit, that she became immediately wary. “You could look at some pictures. You could talk about it. Maybe you don’t remember because you haven’t tried.”

Karin’s natural reaction was to snort. Wouldn’t it be nice if the world worked that way. If only you try hard enough- She covered it by quietly clearing her throat. “I’ve never been able to recall any of the things I forgot. And you might well imagine I’ve tried-there are things I still haven’t been able to find since the move.”

“Well,” he said, and smiled in a most charming way, “that happens to all of us.”

Karin didn’t roll her eyes. Instead she let Ellen smile back, and decided that she’d just keep saying no. No, no, no…for as long as it took. Besides, that smile of his didn’t charm her one bit. She knew when she was being played. She ought to. “It’s been over a year,” she said, and took a sip of tea. “What’s gone is really gone. Even if I did remember a moment or two, I’d hardly be your best witness.”

She hadn’t realized his eyes were such a piercing ice blue, not until he turned them on her so directly. “I don’t need a witness,” he said, and he held everything in that gaze-the conviction, the determination…the commitment. “I need to find that little boy. I need your help to do it. He needs your help.”

Holy crap. She’d been a kid in need, once. What if a man like this had been looking out for her then? Maybe Ellen would have stayed…maybe Karin would have made something of herself. Something more than living her sister’s life. If only for now.

Dangerous thoughts. Regret only got in the way of survival choices.

And besides, they were only eyes. No matter the emotion behind them or how that emotion touched her…they were only eyes. And the eyes of a stranger at that.

Eyes that still watched her, waiting for reaction. For decision.

The decision was made long before you got here, Dave Hunter.

That she didn’t kick him right off the porch was Ellen’s doing. She restricted herself to the slightest shake of her head. In return she saw only a flicker of disappointment, followed close on by determination.

“Look,” he said. “Let’s give the subject a break. I’ve got to eat-why don’t you come into town with me, have a late lunch?”

She took a deep breath. And she was about to shake her head, more emphatically this time, when an unfamiliar car came around the curve just beyond her house, moving slowly. “Cree-ap,” she muttered. She took three long strides and tucked herself in behind the nearest porch post. It meant standing straight and tall-and it meant that Dave Hunter would give her away if he so much as asked her what the hell she was doing.