Marked By The Marshal. Julie Anne Lindsey
listened intently. “‘Multiple counts of murder to avoid prosecution,’” she repeated. “Does that mean he killed again, while you were chasing him?”
Ryder nodded.
“And that was when you got hooked. Trying to stop him.”
“Yes.” Hooked. She’d always used that word as if Ryder had been on drugs. Though, in hindsight, it wasn’t the worst analogy. He’d been just as addicted, just as sick.
“That was the beginning,” he admitted. “After a while, I made some progress tracking him, and things got worse. I followed him to a small town in Ohio.”
Kara crossed her legs and leaned closer. “You were gone two weeks. I remember.”
“I had him.” Almost. Ryder swallowed hard, forcing his shameful gaze back to Kara’s sincere one. He’d driven through the night to get there, then followed the leads right to Timothy Sand. Within forty-eight hours, he knew everything he needed to bring him in. “I walked the town. Talked to the locals and uncovered his one mistake. He’d used his real name with a convenience store clerk, Jennifer Sayers.” Ryder’s lids fell shut. When he reopened them, he focused on the details of his old kitchen instead of the beauty before him. “Jennifer was young, happy and pretty enough that he’d forgotten himself, forgotten the alias. That slip was all I’d needed to get my hands on him.”
But he hadn’t.
Instead, Ryder had lurked in the shadows, building his case and waiting for the right time to make his arrest. “Three days after I’d started following him there, about a week after I’d received the notice that someone fitting his description was in that town, I went to the docks where he worked under an alias and waited for him to return from lunch. There were plenty of witnesses on hand, and he had nowhere to run without going for a swim. He took a bus to work, so there was no getaway car. Just a marshal and a fugitive. It should have been a textbook capture, but Timothy never showed. Instead, he went into town during his lunch and burned down the home of Jennifer Sayers.”
Kara gasped.
Ryder pressed on. “Somehow, he’d known I was there. Knew she’d told me about him. And he went to punish her.” Ryder pressed angry fingers to his temples. “She had an infant and three other children with her in the home.”
Shock twisted Kara’s sad expression into something caught between pity and horror.
Ryder couldn’t blame her. He’d felt those things and more when he’d gotten the news, until eventually he’d felt nothing. In fact, the aftermath of that fateful day had nearly killed him. Thankfully, punching his colleague six months later had resulted in him getting some help. All those weeks of Marshals-mandated counseling should have been a joke, but it became his lifeline.
“That was when I began to unravel,” he admitted. He dragged his gaze back to hers, hating what his hesitation had done to the lives of Jenifer Sayers and her family. To Kara’s. To his. “For me, that was the beginning of the end.”
Kara set her fingers over his hand on the table and warmth spread through him. “Hey.”
Ryder raised reluctant eyes to hers. “I’m so sorry.”
Kara nodded once. “I wish I had known.”
“I couldn’t say it out loud,” he whispered. “When I came home to my happy life. My fiancée. Planning our wedding.” He swallowed long and slow. “Everything Jennifer had lost because I didn’t act faster...”
Kara’s fingers curled under Ryder’s palm. “If he’s in Shadow Point, I know you’ll find him. You can get him this time.”
Ryder forced a painful lump of emotion deep into his chest. “I will.”
“Okay,” she said. “Should I guess from the duffel bag that you’ll be staying here while you’re in town?”
He glanced at the couch. “If it’s all right with you, I’d rather not leave you alone. Tomorrow I’ll find a better place for you and your baby until Sand is captured.”
Her panicked gaze jumped to the baggie with the charred matchbook. “You don’t think I’m safe here? You think that guy might burn my house down?” Kara was on her feet then, hands waving helplessly in front of her.
Ryder met her there in an instant, and he wrapped her in his arms. The fear on her face ripped at his already shredded heart, and he did the only thing he could in that moment. Be there for her. Shockingly, she let him. “I’ll protect you, Kara,” he vowed. “You and your baby. We’ll move you someplace safe tomorrow, but right now there’s work to do.”
Kara wriggled free, wiping her eyes and staring anywhere except at Ryder. “Right. I’ll go pack my things and a bag for Casey so we’re ready.”
Ryder nodded, already back to the island and setting up to check the matchbook for fingerprints. “I’ll call and make arrangements for the move.”
The baggie fell from his fingertips then, caught by the counter beneath his hands. He turned to gape at Kara as she hustled toward the steps to the second floor. “What is your daughter’s name?” he asked, projecting his voice so Kara was sure to hear.
Her cheeks went crimson. Her feet slowed on the carpeted stairs. “Casey,” she repeated, a pained look in her eye, before hurrying out of sight.
Ryder Casey Garrett worked to reinflate his lungs.
He’d been gone far too long to be the baby’s father, but maybe Kara hadn’t written him off as completely as he’d imagined. Maybe there was still hope there.
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