Carol Ericson - Single Father Sheriff

She studied his face, staring into his eyes, her own dark and fathomless. Could she read the disdain he had for therapy? He’d brought up the therapy angle only to make her feel comfortable.

She tapped the table between them with her index finger. “Therapy is supposed to help the subject. You want me to start spilling my guts to help you, not to help myself.”

He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. God, he wished he was questioning Wyatt again and not this complicated woman.

The gesture must’ve elicited her pity because she started talking.

“Kayla and I were at Aunt Cass’s that night because my parents were fighting again. Aunt Cass, my mother’s sister, felt that my parents needed to work out their differences one-on-one and not in front of the kids.”

“The police suspected your father of the kidnapping at first because of the fight.”

“I didn’t realize that at the time, of course, but that assumption was so ridiculous. I’d given a description of the kidnapper, and I would’ve recognized my dad, even in a mask. I suppose the police figured I was too traumatized to give an accurate description or I was protecting my father.”

“What was your description, since the guy had a ski mask on?” He doodled in his notebook because Kendall had been right. All this info was in the case file.

“He was wearing a mask, gloves, and he was taller and heavier than my dad. That I could give them. Oh, and that he had a gravelly voice.”

“He just said a few words, though, right? ‘Get off’ or ‘let go’?”

She shifted her gaze away from him and dropped her lashes. “I’d grabbed on to his leg.”

“Brave girl.”

“It didn’t stop him.”

His eye twitched. Did she feel guilty because she didn’t stop a grown man from kidnapping her twin?

“No surprise there.”

Her dark eyes sparkled and she shrugged her shoulders.

“He took something from you, didn’t he?”

“My twin sister. My innocence. My security. My mother’s sanity. My family. Yeah, he took a lot.”

He wanted to reach for her again and soothe the pain etched on her face, but he tapped his chin with the pencil instead. “Not that it can compare with any of those losses, but he also took a pink ribbon from your hair.”

The color drained from Kendall’s face, and a muscle quivered at the corner of her mouth.

“Do you want some water?” He pushed back from the table. “You look pale.”

“I’m okay.” Her chest rose and fell as she pulled in a long breath and released it. “I’d forgotten about that ribbon. Pink was Kayla’s favorite color. Mine was green. That night Aunt Cass had put our hair in pigtails, and Kayla had insisted on tying pink ribbons in my hair while she tried the green. I was glad he took that ribbon.”

“Why?” He held his breath as Kendall’s eyes took on a faraway look.

“I always thought that when Kayla woke up and found herself with this strange man, she’d feel better seeing the pink ribbon. Now...” She covered her eyes with one hand.

“Now?” He almost whispered the word, his throat tight.

“Now I think that he just killed her, that she never saw the ribbon.”

When her voice broke, he rose from his chair and crouched beside her. He took the hand she had resting on the table and rubbed it between both of his as if she needed warming up.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m forcing these memories and thoughts back to the surface.”

A misty smile trembled on her lips. “This is exactly what I put my clients through every day.”

“And it’s supposed to help them. Is it helping you?”

Sniffling, she dabbed the end of her nose with her fingertips. “This is well-traveled territory. It’s not like I haven’t been through all of this before with my own therapist.”

“You see a therapist?” He sat back on his heels.

“All therapists do at the beginning. It’s part of our training, and most of us keep it up because it helps our work.”

“So I must be a poor substitute.” Although he could probably do a better job than half the quacks out there.

She curled her fingers around one of his hands. “She never holds my hand, so you’ve got her beat there.”

He squeezed her fingers and released them as he backed up to his own seat. “Did your therapy ever bring up any memories of that night that you hadn’t realized as a child? The man’s accent? Someone he reminded you of?”

“Nothing like that.” She stretched her arms over her head. “I don’t have any repressed memories of the event, if that’s what you’re driving at, Doctor Sloane.”

He stroked his chin, wishing he had a clean shave. “You know, sometimes I feel more like a psychiatrist than a cop when I’m questioning people.”

“So tell me.” She wedged her elbows on the table and sunk her chin into one cupped palm. “What makes you think these two kidnappings are at all related to the Timberline Trio case? Wyatt mentioned you were working on some theory that the FBI didn’t share.”

When Kendall mentioned the FBI, he ground his back teeth together. He’d never met a more arrogant bunch, who seemed more interested in dotting i’s and crossing t’s than doing any real investigative work.

“It’s something I’d rather keep to myself.”

She swiped his glass from the table and jumped up from her chair. As she sauntered toward the sink, she glanced over her shoulder. “You want me to help you, but you won’t share your findings?”

“Can you keep a secret?” He sucked in his bottom lip as he watched her refill his glass with water from the tap. She’d lured him into a comfortable intimacy, making him forget that she’d lied about the spider, but she seemed like someone who could keep secrets because she had plenty of her own.

“Who am I going to tell? I’m only going to be here for a short time anyway. Pack up the house, list it, outta here.”

He scooted back his chair and stood up, leaning his hip against the table. “When this guy snatched the two children on separate occasions, he left something behind.”

“What?” She placed the glass on the counter and wiped her fingers on the dish towel hanging over the oven’s handle.

“When he took the boy, he left a plastic dinosaur. When he took the girl, he left...a pink ribbon.”

Chapter Three Contents Cover Introduction Kendall’s scream pierced the still night and turned the blood in Coop’s veins to ice. Coop had already been making his way back down the drive when he’d heard Kendall’s truck coming back to the house. Now his boots grappled for purchase against the soggy leaves on the walkway as he ran toward Kendall. “What is it? What’s wrong?” By the time he reached her, he was panting as if he’d just run a marathon. She’d stumbled back from the truck and stood staring at the tailgate with wide, glassy eyes. Raising her arm, she pointed to the truck with her cell phone. She worked her jaw but couldn’t form any words—no coherent words, anyway. He pried the phone from her stiff fingers, aimed the light at the truck bed and jumped onto the bumper. The phone illuminated a light-colored tarp with something rolled up in it. “I-it’s a body.” Title Page Single Father Sheriff Carol Ericson www.millsandboon.co.uk About the Author CAROL ERICSON is a bestselling, award-winning author of more than forty books. She has an eerie fascination for true-crime stories, a love of film noir and a weakness for reality TV, all of which fuel her imagination to create her own tales of murder, mayhem and mystery. To find out more about Carol and her current projects, please visit her website at www.carolericson.com , “where romance flirts with danger.” Dedication To my sister Janice, my cheerleader Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Epilogue Extract Copyright