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Kobrinsky said, “Deputy Rayland is working with the sketch artist and getting us a picture of the guy who hit you.”
The sheriff turned to Kenna. “Why did you go after him?”
“He was taking a picture of me.” She was going to soundnuts either way, so she explained about the guy the FBI was currently tracking and how she’d met him in Mexico.
“Who is he?”
“We only know who we think he is. This guy named Parker, former military. It’s the only thing that ever made sense as far as identifying him. But he could have a partner, and that could be the one who is here taking photos of me, watching me on behalf of the real Walker.”
Kobrinsky said, “El Caminante?”
She tried to nod, but it hurt.
“That guy is bad news.”
Kenna closed, then opened her eyes. Enough of a nod that he got it.
“There’s a possibility that killer is here?” The sheriff paused. “You don’t think you’ve given us enough work to do already, cleaning up after you? You brought someone else after you?”
She winced. “You don’t have to yell at me.” And that wasn’t what she’d done.
Both men glanced at each other.
Kobrinsky dug a phone out of his pocket and tossed it on the couch beside her. “I called your boyfriend while you were out. Figured he’d want to know what happened.”
He’d spoken to Jax. “And?”
“He said you should call immediately.” He glanced at the sheriff. “And we need to pass the sketch to the FBI as soon as we have it.”
The sheriff shifted in his chair and sipped his drink. “If this is an FBI case and he’s got someone watching you, why not just go to the FBI and stay where they can keep an eye on you?”
“It’s complicated.” Kenna set the ice pack down.
Kobrinsky said, “You want the Walker to find you ratherthan let them take him down? Or is this about your boyfriend being on the taskforce, so you don’t want to step on toes? Or are you the only one who gets to put yourself in danger?”
An image flashed in her mind. Jax hanging from a hook in a barn in Mexico. Beaten and bloody, dangling there unconscious.
No way was she going to go through that again.
“If I go to California, I’ll have to meet his mother.”
The sheriff chuckled over his drink.
Kobrinsky grinned. “Didn’t peg you for a coward.”
Kenna nearly told him to shut up.
Thankfully, the door flung open, and Forrest rushed in. “You can’t detain her without charges.” She looked around.
Kenna raised her fingers and waved, but other than that didn’t move.
Sheriff said, “She’s here of her own volition. She ain’t under arrest.”
Forrest shut the door and came over. She slumped onto the couch beside Kenna. “You don’t look so good.”
“I’m alive.” And they had a shot at getting an image of the man who’d been photographing her. Was it Parker, or someone else?
Forrest said, “What’s going on?”