Whispers of You (Lost & Found #1)(42)

19





HOLT





I had the burning urge to pick up Wren, run, and never stop. She trembled against me. I didn’t know much; had only heard the initial call come over Lawson’s radio as we were getting ready to spar.

Shooting victim.

I gripped Wren tighter. How could she do this job? She chanced being reminded of the worst moment of her life every day.

She pushed against my chest, trying to free herself from my hold. It took everything in me to release her.

Wren struggled to get her breathing under control. Her lips formed silent words, and I realized that she was counting. Inhaling for two. Exhaling for two.

“Sorry,” she croaked.

I scowled. “You know you don’t have to apologize. Not to me.”

She stared at me for a moment, and I saw her struggle to put the pieces of her mask back into place—the one made of cool indifference. I wanted to rip the thing to shreds.

“It was a shock. I wasn’t expecting”—she took a breath—“I wasn’t expecting Mr. Peterson.”

Alarm shot through me, that warning signal that had been finely honed over the past decade.

“I should get back to work. Thanks for…” Her voice trailed off as if finishing the sentence was too difficult.

“You can take a minute to breathe.”

Her eyes flashed. “No. I can’t. Not in this job. It needs my complete focus no matter what the call is.”

My jaw clenched, but I nodded. “I’ll be in the gym if you need me.”

Because I needed to punch the hell out of something.





I leveled a jab, hook, cross combination at the bag. Sweat flew against the leather as I made contact each time. But it wasn’t enough. I needed something that would hit back.

A low whistle sounded, and I jerked around. Nash strode into the gym, Lawson on his heels. “You gettin’ ready to take on a fight with the devil?”

I grabbed a towel from the rack on the wall and wiped it over my face and chest.

Lawson tossed me a water bottle. “Desk clerk said you’ve been in here all afternoon.”

What else was I supposed to do? I wasn’t leaving, and hovering behind Wren’s desk seemed like a piss-poor decision. “Needed to work some stuff out. Tell me what happened.”

Lawson and Nash shared a look.

“Tell me,” I growled.

Lawson sighed. “They think Albert Peterson will make it. Had to be airlifted to Seattle, but he made it through surgery.”

A little of the tightness in my chest subsided. “Any suspects?”

Nash shook his head. “Not yet. Shot came through the window into the kitchen. I doubt he ever saw it coming.”

“Footprints?”

“No,” Lawson said. “Came from the woods behind the house. There’s a layer of pine needles an inch thick.”

“You search for other trace? Fibers. Skin.”

Lawson arched a brow. “I look like a probationary officer to you?”

I let out a huff of air. “Sorry.”

Nash waved me off. “We get it. This is a whole other level of messed-up.”

I took a pull from the water bottle. “The wife have any insights? Enemies? Threats?”

“He’s a high school science teacher. Not exactly a member of the Russian mob,” Nash muttered.

My gaze narrowed on him. “Peterson made some enemies before, and he probably didn’t even know it. All it took was a couple of bad science grades.”

“That was different,” Lawson said.

The muscle along my jaw fluttered. “You have to look at every angle.”

“And we will. But I don’t want to set this community into a panic if I don’t have to,” Lawson shot back. “We are talking to neighbors, coworkers, students. If someone had it out for him, we’ll find them. But his house butts up to the forest. It’s possible this was simply a stray bullet from a hunter.”

My gut wasn’t so sure about that, but I nodded. “Okay.”

“Gonna give in just like that and let big brother do his job?” Nash asked with mock shock.

I gave him a shove. “Screw off.”

Nash cracked his neck. “Oh, I’d like to do exactly that, but I’m not off for another three hours.”

I grabbed my T-shirt and pulled it over my head. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

When life got serious, Nash did anything to distract himself from the feelings. Raced his motorcycle. Went BASE jumping off a mountain. Got blind, stinking drunk in the name of fun.

Nash’s eyes twinkled. “Who, me?”

Lawson glared at him. “You get arrested, and I’m not doing a damn thing to pull you out of trouble.”

Nash patted his shoulder. “You’ve made that abundantly clear, boss man.”

“I gotta grab a shower. Will you let me know if there are any updates?”

Lawson’s mouth pressed into a firm line, but then he sighed. “Fine.”

I met his gaze, making sure he understood the gravity of what I was asking. “Thank you.”

He waved me off. “Get outta my gym. You stink.”

I chuckled and headed for the door. As I rounded the corner, Jude came striding through reception, worry on his face. “Hey. You and Wren okay?”