Heart Of A Hunter. Sylvie Kurtz
thundered over the mountain. As the ambulance sped away, Oliviaâs blood-streaked face colored Sebastianâs vision. Her closed eyes, her pale skin, the rip in her scalp, were a punch to the gut. The fading whine of the siren was a cry that swept him back too many years and pooled old dread into his boots like cement.
He swallowed hard and shook his head. Donât go there. Itâs not going to get you anything. You have a job to do. Do it.
Olivia was in good hands. Once at the hospital, he couldnât see her right away anyway. Doctors would need to examine her and patch her up. What good would he do her pacing the hall? Here he could get a jump on Kershaw. He flexed his fists. She would be okay. But not Kershaw. Kershaw would pay. Sebastian cranked his gaze away from the disappearing red lights in the fog to the scars in the slush made by Oliviaâs tires.
Resolutely, he pushed Olivia from his focus. She crept back in on the next breath. He crouched by the side of the road. Read the facts, damn it. Pukes always leave a trace. If you let him get away, Oliviaâs the one whoâll pay.
He should be at the hospital with her. But in these weather conditions evidence would disappear fast. His gaze followed the run of the tire marks over the edge, and with each breath he got himself into Kershawâs head. Kershaw had vowed revenge. Kershaw had escaped from a maximum-security facility. Olivia was hurt. Too much of a coincidence and heâd never liked coincidence.
Concentrate. Feel what he feels. Fear what he fears. Trust what he trusts.
Sebastian turned off the emotional switch and went into hunter mode. Catch the scum, then get back to Olivia.
That was the plan.
Always.
With effort, he rose and strode toward Victor Denley, Wintergreenâs chief of police. Both the mustache, waxed Western-villain style, and the weapon, cocked at an odd angle from the chiefâs belt, seemed out of place on the six-foot, barrel-shaped man. He looked more like a caricature of a cop than a figure of authority. But the accident had taken place in his jurisdiction and this was his scene. The Service prided itself on interagency cooperation.
âHow soon can you get the car out?â Sebastian asked.
Denley snorted and shook his head. âIâm not sending anyone down there till daylight.â
Sebastian bit back his temper. He needed answers now. âWhen you do, I want it gone over with a fine tooth comb. Anything and everything that might be out of place, I want to know.â
âI donât have that kind of manpower or budget. You know that, Falconer.â
âTow the car to Cyrilâs and send me the bill.â Sutton was going to bust an artery over his next expense report, but screw him. Heâd given his all for the Service. His job was never supposed to touch Olivia. They owed her.
He hiked down the tailgate of his SUV and took a flashlight from his gear bag. âI forwarded a bulletin to your desk. I want your menââ All four point five of them. Cripes! This was a mess. ââaware of Kershaw.â
âHow serious is this guy?â
âHeâs armed and dangerous.â Sebastian clicked on a utility belt. âAnd he wants payback.â
âWish you hadnât brought that kind of trouble to my neck of the woods.â
In a town where the dayâs highlight was a free cup of coffee at McGeeâs General Store and writing a traffic ticket to an out-of-towner who strayed a mile over the speed limit, a copâs edge dulled in proportion to the spread of gut over belt. Kershaw was way over Denleyâs experience. âTrust me. That wasnât the plan. Heâs after Olivia. I want a guard posted by her hospital room.â
âBudgetââ
âFrankâll be glad for the overtime.â Frank Brandt was young and eager, even if inexperienced. He liked to relax at the local martial arts dojo and his edge wasnât yet donut dimmed. Denley opened his mouth, but before a word could spit out, Sebastian repeated, âSend me the bill.â Let Sutton choke. Danger wouldnât flirt any closer to Olivia than it already had.
Sebastian strode toward the edge of the road.
âHey,â Denley called, âwhere do you think youâre going?â
âLooking for evidence.â
âYouâll mess up the scene.â
Like that was going to make a difference with the way the EMTs had trampled it to rescue Olivia. âHe already has a warrant out on him for the murder of two marshals. Whatever evidence I find here wonât change anything.â Cutting down the timeline was more important than preserving this sceneâa scene that would melt away before morning. Sebastian headed into the fog that covered the black hole where Oliviaâs car had plunged.
Denley shone his flashlight at him. âYou should get to your wife.â
âIf I donât catch this puke, heâll go after her again.â
âHe might not have anything to do with this. Thereâs deer tracks. The roadâs slippery. On a night like this, could be just an accident.â
No, Sebastian didnât believe in coincidence. Not with someone as determined as Kershaw. âWhat if he did? You donât want that on your conscience. To get what he wants, heâll go through anything and anyone. Heâs armed. Heâs motivated. He has nothing to lose.â
âGetting aggressive and imaginative at this time of the night wonât help you collar your mutt.â
Aggressive and imaginativeâcop-talk for breaking the law. This was for Olivia. Heâd get as aggressive and as imaginative as it took to bring down Kershaw.
IGNORING THE BEEPER vibrating at his belt, Sebastian placed a call. Working alone, heâd woven a wide network of contacts. The best way to information was knowing who to tap.
âFelicia?â a sleepy voice greeted Sebastian on the other end of the line as he paced the hospitalâs emergency-room waiting area.
Officially, Aurora Cates was a librarian. But her real persona was information specialist. Why she hid her true calling was a mysteryâone that was none of his business. Five years ago, heâd accidentally discovered that if he needed a fact, any factâobtained legallyâRory Cates could dig it up. Best of all, she could do it efficiently and discreetly.
âSebastian Falconer.â
âFalconer?â He heard the rustling of bed sheets. âDo you know what time it is?â
He glanced at his watch. Where had the time gone?
âItâs one-thirty in the morning,â Rory informed him. âWhat could be so important at this time of the night?â
âI need information.â
âI figured that much.â
Sebastian swallowed around the knot in his throat. âInformation on coma.â
âComa?â
His strictest rule was to never mix business and pleasure. Thatâs why heâd never asked Rory why she was hiding in a library when her skills were better suited elsewhere. Business took place on one level; personal life on another. Few people knew where he lived, that he was married or anything about his background. Safer that way, heâd thought. Kershaw had proved him wrong. âMy wife was in an accident.â
âWife? Youâre married? How long?â
âTen years.â
âAnd