Stone Cold Heart (Tracers #13)(38)

“Well, you’ve probably heard the rumors. A lot of people think Kaylin was kidnapped by a transient. A tourist. Some evil stranger passing through. But I believe he’s local.”

“Why?”

“I’ve got a gut feeling about it.”

Sara watched him in the darkness. “People never want to believe there is evil and cruelty in their midst. They never want to think people they see day to day, people they trust, are capable of inflicting pain and suffering.”

He nodded. “The folks around here are proud of this town. It’s friendly and scenic. People look out for each other.”

“Except when they don’t.”

“That’s right.”

He stared down at her for a long moment. Then he started walking again, sweeping the flashlight over the rocky ground, and Sara fell in alongside him.

Nolan halted. “Hey, look.” He took a few paces and crouched down. “Shine that light this way.”

She aimed the UV light at something beside the rock, a scrap of white fabric. Excitement flitted through her as she stepped over.

“Looks like a T-shirt,” he said.

“Don’t touch it.”

Nolan shot her a look. “Wasn’t planning to.”

Sara unzipped her pack and took out a pair of latex gloves. She passed one to him and pulled on the other.

“It’s stuck under the rock, looks like,” Nolan said.

Sara took out her camera and a ruler for scale. After snapping a few photos, she moved the rock aside and picked up the garment. As suspected, it was a T-shirt. It had been white originally, but now the fabric was dirty and stiff, too crunched up to read the lettering on the front.

“I’ve got an evidence envelope in my truck,” Nolan said.

“I’ve got one here.” Sara pulled a folded envelope from her bag, and Nolan opened it so she could drop the shirt inside.

“It might not be hers,” she said.

“True.” Nolan stood up. “Then again, it might.”

Sara stood up and looked around. Then they combed the ground for another half hour but saw no more evidence. After scouring the entire creek bed, they headed back to the parking lot. They didn’t talk, just made their way silently up the steep path. By the time they reached the top, Sara was breathing hard and in need of another shower. Nolan wasn’t even winded. She still didn’t know what he did for exercise, but he was in excellent shape.

“I’ve got some water,” he said when they reached the lot.

Sara followed him to his pickup. He popped his locks and reached across the front seat for a bottle of water. She set down her backpack and the evidence envelope so she could unscrew the lid and take a gulp.

“Any chance you can run the shirt back at your lab?” he asked.

“Sure.” She watched his eyes. “You don’t want to run it through the state crime lab?”

“I’d just as soon get the results back this century.”

Sara took another swig and passed him the bottle. He set it on the hood.

“We’ll run it for DNA, blood, anything we can find, but it might not belong to the victim.”

“Then again, it might,” he repeated.

She liked his optimism. The determination in his voice made her feel better about a case that was growing bleaker by the day.

He stepped closer, peering down at her in the darkness. He slid his hand around her waist, and her heart started to sprint.

“Nolan—”

He kissed her. No hesitation. He just leaned down and settled his mouth over hers, silencing whatever she’d been about to say.

She responded without thinking, and the instant she tasted him, she wanted more. He tasted sharp and masculine, a flavor she liked. Her hands slid up around his neck, and he made a low groan and pulled her closer. His fingers curved around her hips as she went up on tiptoes, pressing her breasts against his solid chest, and she realized they fit together perfectly, despite the height difference.

His mouth was hot. Hungry. He dug a hand through her hair and tipped her head to get a better angle. He kissed her deeper, but still she couldn’t get enough of his taste and his scent and the hard feel of his body. Something inside her just reacted, like she’d been craving him without even knowing it.

He eased back, blinking down at her, and she saw the surprise on his face. He started to say something, but she cut him off with another kiss. He felt so good. He pulled her against him and slid his hand over her breast, and she felt the delicious heat of it through her clothes.

How how how had she gone so long without this?

He jerked back suddenly.

“Shit.”

“What?” she asked, disoriented.

“Sorry.” He eased her away from him, and she heard the faint squawk of a radio in his truck. He pulled the door open and grabbed the receiver. “Hess.”

Sara turned away, not listening to the garbled response. She tugged down her tank top, which had ridden up, and brushed her hair from her eyes.

She was at a crime scene. She was here to collect evidence, and instead she was kissing the lead detective on the case. What the hell was she doing?

“Sorry.” He slammed the door and stepped over. “I have to go in.”

“Of course. I’ll just . . .” Flustered, she bent down for her backpack and the evidence envelope. He bent to help her, and she bumped her head against his chin on the way up. “Ouch.”