Page 42 of Trap ’N’ Trace

“Sure.” He picked it up then held it to Angus’s mouth for him to grab hold. “You need to give your shoulder a rest. Let me take him.” Without waiting for an answer, he took the puppy from her.

A tiny bit of warmth bloomed in her chest, and it wasn’t from the brief contact as they’d transferred the puppy to his arms. “Thank you.” A law enforcement officer and a gentleman. Not that she should be surprised, by now. He’d been nothing but gentlemanly since the day he’d blown into her life. I wonder what he’s like when he cuts loose?

Angus promptly licked Dayne’s cheek then began squirming again. “Easy does it, little guy.” He nuzzled his chin against the puppy’s head, instantly calming him.

The man certainly had a way with dogs. And infinite patience.

After setting the new security code, they went outside. She followed Remy and Dayne down the steps and nearly slammed into Dayne’s broad back.

“Don’t move,” he said in a gravelly voice laced with warning. “Stay behind me.”

“What’s wrong?” She peered around his body, which was as rigid as a piece of sheet metal.

One of the guards on the north corner of the house lifted a hand in greeting. The other, standing a few feet away, did the same.

Dayne’s eyes narrowed and his jaw set as he searched the property. Kat didn’t see a thing out of place. The tension in Dayne’s body said otherwise.

Beneath her coat, the hair on her forearms prickled. Remy watched Dayne, her body as tense as her handler’s, although she didn’t alert. The wind blew away from them, whispering through the distant trees.

“Dayne? What is it?” When he didn’t answer, her pulse kicked up. “Do you see something?”

“No, I just…” He tipped his head to his SUV. “Let’s get out of here.”

As they drove to the Haven, Kat couldn’t stop from glancing repeatedly in the sideview mirror. She licked her lips, her tongue having gone as dry as a piece of cardboard. She couldn’t shake the unsettling feeling that time was running out. On what, she didn’t know, but there it was.

Along with the firm belief that things would only get worse before they got better.

…

Two blocks from the funeral home, the streets were lined with marked police cars and dark sedans and SUVs.

Dayne drove directly to the entrance of the large white building. Only one spot at the curb in front was empty, blocked off with orange cones. A man waved them in and moved the cones out of the way.

“Is that Detective Paulson?” she asked.

“Yeah.” Dayne quickly parallel parked. “I had him reserve us a space near the front. Quick in, quick out.”

“I see.” He didn’t want her outside and exposed any longer than necessary. The man’s protective nature knew no bounds. “Thank you.”

“Wait a minute before getting out.” He lowered the rear windows before shutting off the engine and coming around to her side. As usual, he searched the street in both directions, then the sidewalks, which were filling with uniformed policemen and women, and others in dark suits, many wearing tiny badge-shaped lapel pins.

The door opened, and he held out his hand. She tried to ignore how good his fingers felt around hers and the stab of disappointment when he released it.

He accompanied her to the walkway where Detective Paulson waited. The funeral home was packed, yet a hushed silence hung over the long line of people waiting to pay their respects.

“We should have most of the lab reports later today.” Detective Paulson indicated they should follow him to a corner of the waiting area.

Several people nodded to Dayne then stared at her. Considering she was often interviewed on live TV, not to mention the fact that she’d recently been identified in the news as the person who’d found Rebecca’s body, she shouldn’t have been surprised. Lately, however, being gaped at as if she were a new species was beginning to grate like sandpaper on her already frayed nerves.

Dayne looked around the crowded room, which must have been easy for him, since he was at least several inches taller than everyone else. “We have agents stationed inside and out,” he said to Paulson. “In case Kelso Donnelly shows his face.”

Donnelly. Her stomach dropped at the mention of the ex-con. He was still out there, somewhere, and he may have murdered Rebecca.

“We do, too,” the detective said. “We’ll also have people staked out at Amy Thorpe’s wake.”

“Why would Kelso Donnelly show up here if he murdered Rebecca?” she asked. “Wouldn’t he be worried someone would spot him?”

“It’s not unheard of for a killer to return to the scene of the crime,” Dayne answered. “Or to attend the victim’s funeral.”