Double Take. Jenness Walker

      “Cops are on the way.” A new voice.

      Kenzie didn’t want to move. Just wanted to sleep, to curl up against this wall of warmth, with the strong arm holding her, the steady voice in her ear, the light shining on her. Just wanted to float away…

      “What can I do?”

      She blinked as that other voice spoke again, but let her eyes drift shut. Please be quiet. Please, please…

      “Help me get her out of here. Into the truck.”

      She felt the rumble of the first, familiar voice. The voice that brought the light. Then the pressure was off her arms. Her hands dropped, splashing water into her face. She didn’t react. Couldn’t.

      “MacKenzie? Still with me?”

      Another arm scooped up her legs—she barely felt it, but then she was cuddled closer to that warm wall. The water swirled around her calves. She couldn’t feel her feet. Other hands touched her arms. Tried to pull her away—no. No!

      “She doesn’t want you to let go, Cole.”

      “It’s all right, MacKenzie. John’s a friend.”

      No. She wanted to stay there. Just stay…

      “Is the heat running?” The first voice, farther away. She couldn’t feel the vibrations of his voice, the pounding of his heart. Don’t leave…

      “Yeah. Here, you got her?”

      “Try not to jostle her.”

      Snuggled close again. Something warm over her knees, her head.

      “MacKenzie, talk to me, girl. Keep those pretty eyes open.”

      “Still got the dispatcher on the phone.”

      A sprinkling of water, then a blast of hot air. So hot. The lightning—must be burning her up.

      “Good. How long…”

      The words faded in and out. Kenzie tried to keep listening, but then just the tone was enough. The first voice was there. Still soothing, even though she burned like fire.

      “MacKenzie?”

      She tried to answer. Bright lights filled her vision, then she faded away.

      The police and paramedics had arrived just as Cole removed one of MacKenzie’s waterlogged shoes. From inside the truck, he now watched as she disappeared behind the ambulance doors, following the flashing lights with his gaze as it sped out of view. It was over. He’d been right.

      Now he just hoped he hadn’t been too late.

      “So now what?” His spiky hair mussed and dripping, John loosely held the steering wheel and stared at the rain.

      “Now…” He pictured MacKenzie’s shoeless right foot. Please, God, let her be okay.

      Detective Parker tapped on his window. Cole hit the unlock button and waited as the officer climbed into the backseat, the suspicion in his face making Cole’s blood freeze.

      “It seems you were right, Cole Leighton.”

      “Yes, sir.” Cole closed his eyes, then opened them and stared straight ahead. He could use a blanket of his own right now.

      “We did a sweep of the area—no one was here except you guys. We can’t do much in this rain. CSI has it covered for now, so why don’t you two come back to the station and give us your statements? There are a few things we need to clear up.”

      “That’s fine.” Actually, it wasn’t, but he doubted he had a choice.

      “Mind if we get into some dry clothes first?” John asked.

      Cole caught his cousin’s sideways look. The heat blasted the outside of his jeans, but they were still wet and stiff. Water squished between his toes, which reminded him again of MacKenzie’s blue foot.

      “Oh, it shouldn’t take too long. We’ve got some blankets. Coffee. Let’s get it over with, in case there’s some pertinent information.”

      John nodded his reluctant agreement.

      “Good,” Parker said. “I’ll follow you there.”

      The door opened, and rain rushed in before it slammed shut. Parker got out and the detective faded behind sheets of rain. They waited in silence until Parker’s car flashed its high beams. John put the Dodge in gear and headed for the main road.

      When they hit pavement, John said, “How come I get the feeling this interview is going to be more like an interrogation?”

      “I’m sorry, John.”

      “No, man. You did the right thing. I’m just saying…they better have some good coffee.”

      Cole forced a laugh. “Don’t count on it. But maybe they put on a new pot since I was there last.” Less than two hours ago. Parker’s eyes had narrowed then. This time they’d be mere slits. He wouldn’t try to figure out if Cole was a kook or a paranoid bookworm or a bad guy. He’d be pretty certain of the latter. A bad guy with a hero complex.

      Well, he’d be basically correct, wouldn’t he?

      “Cole, you did the right thing,” John said again. “You have an alibi. There’s no way they’re going to believe you did this.”

      In spite of the chill, a bead of sweat dripped down his face. Not good. They’d probably take his fear as an indication of guilt, a sign that he knew something.

      “What are the odds?” he said. “Only a few days in town and I just happened to choose that bus, that book, at that time? And I didn’t have anything to do with it?” One in a million. One in a hundred million. No, more like…zero, zilch. No chance at all.

      “Tell me.” John’s face was hard, his eyes on the road. “Did you have anything to do with it?”

      Cole flinched. “No.”

      “I didn’t think so. The odds aren’t good—so what? Maybe God stuck you on that bus at that time with that book and gave you the wisdom to figure things out. Because He knows how stubborn you can be.” John glanced away from the windshield, caught Cole’s gaze, then concentrated on the road again. “You saved the girl’s life. We can deal with whatever happens next.”

      Cole swallowed. Closed his eyes. He’d felt, for that brief moment when he’d held MacKenzie Jacobs—when he lifted her from the water and set her carefully in the backseat of the truck—that he could redeem himself. That this life could make up for one that was lost years ago. That he could start over again with a fresh page in God’s book.

      But that would have been too easy, and he deserved anything but easy.

      Cole folded his arms on the tabletop and lowered his head. At three in the morning, he didn’t really care if the action might seem suspicious. His heavy eyelids refused to stay open. So, while he waited for Parker to return, he’d take advantage of the reprieve.

      His aching eyes closed, but his mind would not shut down. The routine rolled through his mind—he’d been through it before. They’d analyze the recording of his interview. Maybe test the stress levels in his voice for indications of guilt. There would be stress, all right—he’d been stressed out for almost twenty-four hours. More like twenty-four years, but that was beside the point.

      Shut up, Cole.

      A chair scraped, jerking him to awareness once again. Lifting his head, he found Parker sitting across from him.

      “Sorry to keep you up so late, Mr. Leighton,” he said in a neutral tone. “Just a couple more things and then we’ll let you go get some much deserved rest.”

      “Go ahead.”

      “We’d like you to take a polygraph test. That’ll really help