K-9 Defence. Elizabeth Heiter

in his, but that was the only sign she’d noticed. Her gaze was laser locked on Jasper. “I saw the car pull up. I saw the guy grab Alanna.” Her voice broke. “I dropped my stupid book and ran after them, but they sped away. It was the last time I ever saw her.”

      Colter had been in Jasper’s store more than a dozen times since he’d moved to Desparre. For the first time, he saw the man twitch and his glare soften.

      “Look, I’m not playing games here,” Jasper said, his tone conciliatory. “I found the note stuck in a stack of money in my cash drawer at the end of the day two weeks ago. I don’t know how it got there.”

      “Okay,” Kensie said, leaning forward. “Do you remember any of the people who came in the store that day? Maybe a young woman—about nineteen—who looked like me?”

      Jasper’s lips twisted as he stared at Kensie. “Maybe. Someone with dark hair like yours did come in that day, but she was with her family. I don’t know who she was. Hadn’t seen her before and haven’t seen her since.”

      Jasper’s was a regular stop for people who really lived off the beaten path. So if Jasper had only seen the girl once—if it was even Alanna—she might have just been passing through.

      Kensie’s shoulders dropped and her gaze sought his, as if she was looking for him to find a new path forward. But he wasn’t sure there was one.

      If Alanna had been in the store on her way to some even more remote part of Alaska, how would they ever trace her?

      Colter knew what it was like to live with a desperate, burning hope, as painful as it was powerful. But he also knew that sometimes there was relief in release, too. He’d never return to the person he’d been before he lost his brothers. But when he’d woken in the hospital and no one would tell him if his brothers were okay, he’d been frozen. Sometimes he wished he could return to that state of hopeful ignorance, but it meant being stuck, unable to move forward at all.

      Finding Alanna might be impossible. If it was, what if Kensie was frozen forever?

      * * *

      “WE NEED TO talk to the police.”

      Colter leveled his best Marine stare at Kensie across the table in the tiny restaurant off the main strip in Desparre. He’d pulled in on a whim because she’d looked so defeated after talking to Jasper that he hadn’t just wanted to drop her at her truck all alone. And if he was being honest, he didn’t want to say goodbye quite yet.

      Because it was a place he came semiregularly and because Desparre was usually low-key, they let Rebel sit beside the booth as he and Kensie quietly sipped coffee. Her eyes were downcast, maybe to avoid his stare. But then, it hadn’t worked on her the first four times he’d suggested this course of action.

      “What’s your hesitation? I know you talked to them once, but they’re not going to spill everything they know just because Alanna is your sister. If we go in and ask pointed questions about the note, we might get somewhere.”

      “Yeah, maybe.”

      He frowned, trying to figure out if talking to Jasper had discouraged her as much as it had him or if something else was going on. “It’s worth a shot, right?” he pressed, surprised with himself for playing cheerleader. He’d known this woman less than a day and already he’d spent more time with her than anyone else since his doctors at the VA hospital. Not only that, he was actually pushing her to press forward, when he’d been the one who’d wanted out in the first place.

      Truth be told, he still wanted out. The last thing he needed was a mission. But Kensie had a pull about her he couldn’t deny.

      She took a heavy breath before meeting his gaze. “You’re right.”

      “Okay, then,” he said, forcing himself to sound more cheerful than he felt and praying he wasn’t just giving her false hope. “Let’s do this.”

      At his words, Rebel’s head popped up and a grin tugged his lips. This time, instead of leading him down memory lane toward a panic attack, the idea of having a mission just made him feel wistful. If only it happened like that more often. But although he’d gotten better at avoiding triggers, it wasn’t the same thing that set him off every time.

      “We’re not working, girl,” he told Rebel, who yawned and settled down on her tummy.

      Kensie gave him an incredulous stare. “She understands you, doesn’t she?”

      His smile grew a little. “You’ve never had a pet, huh? Trust me, they understand way more than you’d think.”

      She shook her head. “Nah, we lived in the city until I was ten, then my parents finally decided three kids in a walk-up was too much and moved out to the suburbs. By then I’d kind of given up asking for a pet. I thought Alanna was going to be the one to wear them down about getting a dog. After she was gone, none of us had time for things like that.”

      Things like what? A childhood? He studied her, trying to imagine what her life had been like after her sister had gone missing. Trying to imagine the guilt she’d internalized at such a young age when it clearly hadn’t been her fault.

      He knew all about that. He understood how irrational survivor’s guilt could be, just like he understood that knowing it didn’t make it go away. But he’d been an adult, faced with an inevitable consequence of war. She’d been just a child. And yet, until she’d spoken those words to Jasper, he never would have suspected she blamed herself.

      He barely knew her, but she came across as competent and positive. He supposed it showed that the front you put on for others didn’t always match what was underneath.

      He dropped some money on the table for their coffees and stood, trying not to cringe as his leg spasmed. They needed to do this before the police station closed.

      Desparre wasn’t big enough to warrant twenty-four-hour coverage. Officers here were on call after a certain hour, but the station would be closed. He checked his watch—8:00 p.m. They had one hour and then they’d be out of luck.

      Kensie stood more slowly, taking one last, long gulp of coffee as if she was either preparing herself for something or delaying moving forward. Rebel followed Kensie’s lead—probably her leg was hurting, too.

      Twenty minutes later they were back in town. Desparre had a few old streetlamps casting dim light over the main road, but otherwise it had grown dark while they’d been inside the coffee shop. The place looked like a ghost town, except for the light and rock music spilling out of the bar.

      Kensie got out of the truck first, moving quickly. Rebel trotted by her side, only a hint of her injury showing in the way she favored her back left leg.

      Colter grasped the door hard and lowered himself out slowly. Sitting in the car and then the coffee shop had stiffened up his leg. Without giving it enough time elevated, the muscle above his knee felt knotted into an immobile mess.

      He forced it to move, gritting his teeth as he tried not to limp, just in case Kensie looked back. The military had drilled into him that failure and weakness weren’t options. He’d already failed, but he had no intention of looking weak in front of her. Not again.

      Ahead of him, Kensie reached for the door to the police station, then jumped back as it opened from inside. Next to her, Rebel looked back to him, as if debating whether he needed her more than Kensie did.

      She’d never taken to another human the way she had to Kensie. Not since he and Rebel had bonded on the battlefield had she so readily accepted anyone. Then again, he hadn’t given her a lot of chances to spend time with civilians, outside his parents and the doctors at the various hospitals.

      Apparently deciding he was fine, Rebel turned back to Kensie, who was now standing face-to-face with Chief Hernandez. She was bundled up, obviously heading out for the night, and she looked less than happy to see Kensie.

      Colter picked up his pace, biting down against the pain. He’d be paying for this later, but he’d seen too many veterans get hooked