Page 62 of Shadowed Witness

“Haven’t thought that far ahead. What about you? Something on your list.”

Silence stretched between them. Long enough, she didn’t think he was going to answer. “I want to be a dad one day,” he said finally. “A good one.”

She wanted to look at his face. Study his expression. But she loathed surrendering the comfort of his arms. Instead, she just said, “I think you will be.”

Before the conversation could go any further, Eric straightened. Allye sat up, keeping her hand on his arm, and followed his gaze. The ranger was back and approaching the SUV—Allye’s bags and equipment all bundled in one hand. He opened the door on Eric’s side.

“Coast is clear, folks. Looks like whoever took a potshot at you didn’t stick around to have another go. Couldn’t find any sign of him except for the obvious damage to your equipment.”

Eric’s face was stoic as he took in the news, but Allye could feel the tension radiating through him. This wasn’t good.

But there wasn’t much they could do about it tonight. They gave their statements and contact info, then the ranger released them to head home.

It was a quiet ride back to her house. They were both still processing what had happened. While she could process things verbally just as well or better, she sensed Eric was in the mood for silent analysis. She could give him that. He’d likely saved her life tonight.

How had such a perfect evening morphed into disaster? And why? She kept coming back to why. Had someone tried to kill her tonight and missed? Why hadn’t he fired again? Yeah, it was getting dark, but she and Eric had been out in the open with nothing to hide behind. It was like the break-in—except this time, she had a witness. There would be no debate aboutwhether something had actually happened here tonight. That was some consolation.

But she still didn’t know who was targeting her this way, or why they were doing it. It didn’t make sense. If they wanted her dead, they’d had plenty of opportunity to make that happen—the night they’d broken in, this evening, and any number of times in between. Either they kept chickening out during their murder attempts—which she figured was highly unlikely—or whatever was going on was more complicated than it appeared on the surface. And as much as she’d prefer to think otherwise, she doubted it was over.

When they finally arrived back at her house, Eric insisted on walking her inside and clearing the house before leaving her alone. After assuring himself that no danger lurked behind her piles of laundry and stacks of empty delivery boxes, he reluctantly left with strong instructions to make sure her new dead bolt was locked behind him.

She did as he asked, then stood at the door, listening until the sound of his engine faded away.

Now what? Despite her tiredness and the late hour, she was pretty sure she was too wound up to even attempt sleep. The last thing she wanted to do was spend more hours lying in bed with her racing thoughts and relentless symptoms vying for attention.

Normally, she would be working. She’d spent countless nights editing photos, creating salable products, or designing creative advertisements for her business. But she knew she didn’t have that kind of energy tonight, and her head was killing her.

A cup of tea, meds, and a movie might be her best option. If she was lucky, she’d fall asleep in her recliner.

Decision made, she headed to the kitchen. Medication was first priority. She retrieved the bottle from her purse and shook it. Empty. How had she missed that? Or had she just forgotten she’d taken the last one? She wasn’t sure. She made a mental note to call for a refill tomorrow. At the rate her migraines hadbeen hitting lately, she couldn’t afford to be without her medication. Sighing, she retrieved an over-the-counter pain reliever and downed that instead.

That done, she placed the prescription bottle where she’d be likely to see it first thing in the morning and shifted her focus to making tea. While she waited for the water to boil, she selected a handful of noncaffeinated ingredients to create tonight’s comfort blend. A spoonful of rooibos, some dried berries, hibiscus, a bit of ginger...

She added a few more ingredients and eyed the infuser basket. Something was missing. She opened her spice cabinet and scanned the contents until her gaze landed on a jar of cinnamon sticks. That was it. She broke a few chips off one of the sticks and added them to her little compilation.

Once the tea finished steeping, she retreated to the living room and turned on a favorite movie.

For the first half of the film, she knitted in between sips of tea and tried to lose her brain in the romantic cozy mystery she’d seen a half dozen times already. But when the main characters shared their first kiss, her hand went to her lips. She’d kissed Eric tonight. She really, really shouldn’t have done that.

She hadn’t meant to. She’d just lost her balance when she closed her eyes. At least, that’s what she was going to keep telling herself.

Regardless, he’d kissed her. And that hadn’t been an accident.

They weren’t even dating. And she wasn’t the type of girl to kiss on a first date. Not to mention a non-date.

And then there was the way she’d allowed him to hold her in the SUV. Her cheeks burned. There hadn’t been anything inappropriate about his touch, she reminded herself. He’d held her like a brother would—in fact, Bryce would have done exactly the same if he’d been there.

But it hadn’t been Bryce. It had been Eric. And she definitely didn’t view Eric as a brother—especially after that kiss.

She groaned. She needed to pull herself together and stop acting like a lovestruck flibbertigibbet. So they’d kissed. Lots of people kissed and thought nothing of it.

But she wasn’t lots of people. It did mean something to her. And while Eric might have only held her in a big-brother sort of way, his touch had been gentle. And he’d been considerate enough to offer her discreet assistance when she’d needed it.

Her phone dinged with a text message, pulling her from her embarrassment. Who would be sending her a message this late in the evening? She entered her passcode and pulled up the texting app. There was a new message from an unknown number, and it didn’t show any preview text. Frowning, she tapped it.

Two photos appeared—one of her mom leaving her realty office, another of Bryce and Corina sitting on their back patio. None of them seemed to have any idea their picture was being taken.

As she stared at the photos, a second text appeared.

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