Page 24 of Crime Lab Cold Case (Pacific Northwest Forensics #2)

Michael slogged into a puddle and swore. What did Natalie hope to find out here? At least she hadn’t run out helter-skelter on her own. She’d called him. She trusted him. It had been a long time since someone trusted him.

He heard a woman yelling, and he froze. Was she in trouble already? Then he made out the words and realized Natalie was just announcing her presence. That was probably the best way to go about this. No sense sneaking up on someone.

An animal crackled in the bushes to his right, and he aimed his flashlight in the direction of the noise. It scurried away, and he continued on the trail. The rain-soaked earth gave off a loamy smell that he tasted in the back of his throat.

A branch cracked ahead of him. Startled, he tripped over a root. As he grumbled and clambered to his feet, the sound of gunfire echoed through the forest—and he knew hunting wasn’t allowed in this area.

Before he was even steady, another shot rang out. He yelled, “Natalie.”

His legs pumped like pistons as he ran through the woods, wet branches smacking his face, twigs grabbing at his hair. The shooting had stopped, and he hoped that at least one of those bullets had come from Natalie’s weapon.

He stumbled into the campsite parking lot, Natalie’s car taking up the space beneath the only light. He called her name again as he careened toward the playground equipment. One swing shivered as he blew past it, his flashlight scanning the old metal slide.

His eyes widened as he spotted Natalie flying down the slide on her back, her gun in front of her. She hit the ground and got into a crouch.

Michael called out quickly. “It’s me. Michael.”

“Get down, Michael. Someone just took a couple of shots at me, and I have no idea from which direction.”

He dropped to the ground, but all he wanted was to get to Natalie. He army-crawled toward her, his elbows digging into the mud. When he reached her, she pulled him beneath the slide with her.

“Are you alright? Did you get hit?” He grabbed her shoulders and ran his hands down her arms.

“I’m fine. I was up on the slide’s platform. It saved me. The first bullet hit the cover, but it didn’t penetrate.”

“And the second?” He fumbled for the phone in his jacket pocket.

“Missed the slide completely.” She put her hand on his phone. “What are you doing?”

“I’m calling nine-one-one. Someone just shot at you.”

“And what were you doing at Devil’s Edge campsite in the middle of the night in the rain, Agent Brunetti.

Well, you see I got a note from my best friend who went missing, presumed dead, thirteen years ago, and I thought we’d catch up on old times.

” She shook her head, and droplets from her hood sprinkled his face.

“We can’t call the sheriffs, Michael, just like I can’t tell Detective Ibarra about the pendant found on Sierra’s body.

I’ll blow my cover. If the FBI takes me off this audit, I’ll never find out what happened to Katie, and you may never find out what happened to Raine.

Nobody wants answers to these questions more than we do. Please.”

She’d gripped his wrist in a vise hold, her gaze still turned outward, scanning the parking lot and the trees beyond.

How far was she willing to take this? Someone tampered with her brakes and just took a couple of potshots at her.

What next? How guilty did she have to feel about Katie’s disappearance to risk her own safety?

The raindrops slowed to an intermittent pinging against the metal of the slide, and Michael’s heartbeat matched the rhythm. If they called the cops, he’d have his own explaining to do as to why he was on the trail where his wife had been murdered.

He dropped his phone back in his pocket. “Let’s get out of here. That bullet that hit the canopy of the slide, do you think we can find the pieces?”

“If it shattered, which is most certainly did, what good will that do us?”

“You work in forensics. If the pieces are big enough or there are enough of them, there’s some reconstruction work that can be done.

Also, you’re lucky.” He knocked on the side of the slide.

“The slide is metal, but it’s not that heavy.

A different type of bullet may have even pierced it.

A full-metal-jacket bullet probably wouldn’t disintegrate at all. It’s worth a look.”

“Yeah, as long as someone’s not shooting at us while we try to find it.” She narrowed her eyes as she stared into the darkness.

“You’re the one with the gun. Cover me while I take a look.”

She dropped her chin to her chest. “Go.”

He crawled toward the slide’s ladder, leaving his flashlight behind. No sense in giving the shooter a target. When he got to the base of the slide, he cupped his hand around his phone and used the light to illuminate the ground.

He felt along the ground, his fingers becoming accustomed to the feel of the rocks and gravel that pebbled beneath them. He didn’t expect the bullet or any fragments to still be hot. They’d been fired long enough ago to have cooled down, and the rain would’ve done its job, too.

His fingers stumbled across a smooth arc with a jagged edge, and he dragged his phone’s light along the ground to highlight the piece. Definitely a bullet fragment.

His next find had his heart thumping—the distorted and flattened point of a bullet. He closed his hand around the bullet fragments and scuffed along the ground back to Natalie, her gun aimed in front of her as she scanned the area.

“I found something that might be useful.” He unfurled his hand, the pieces stark against his palm. “This guy just made the biggest mistake of his life.”

* * *

For about the one hundredth time that night, Natalie thanked God that she’d had the good sense to call Michael before going on this fool’s errand.

Hunched over, they ran back to Natalie’s car, and she gunned it out of the parking lot. Michael had to point out his vehicle parked in the outlet, and she eased behind it, both cars hidden by overhanging tree branches and dripping leaves.

She cut the engine and sat with her eyes closed, breathing heavily. “I suppose that means the note wasn’t from Katie.”

“Unless Katie turned into a psychopath and doesn’t want to be found.” He rubbed her thigh through her damp and dirty jeans. “Someone wrote that note to lure you out to the campsite. But then you already knew that.”

“I knew it, but—” she swung around to face him, tears hanging from her eyelashes “—when I was up on that slide, and I saw our names scratched into the metal, I remembered. And those memories hurt.”

She blinked and a tear rolled down her cheek. Michael reached over and caught on his fingertip before it dripped off her chin.

His voice husky, he whispered in her ear. “It’s not your fault. None of it is your fault.”

Grabbing his hand, she pulled it to her lips and planted a kiss on the center of his palm, where he’d cupped the bullet that almost hit her.

“Thank you for being there. Thank you for keeping my confidences when the information we have would probably clear your name in your wife’s murder once and for all. ”

He wedged a finger beneath her chin. “I’m no saint. I have my own reasons for playing this close to the vest.”

“Don’t do that.” She brushed a lock of wet hair from his forehead. “Don’t downplay your kindness, your integrity. You’re one of the good guys, Michael Wilder.”

A short and bitter laugh erupted from his lips. “I haven’t been called a good guy in a long time. I tried to prevent a mother from seeing her child. I pushed her away instead of getting help for her. I left her on her own, and someone murdered her.”

She placed two fingers against his soft lips. “What did you just tell me? It’s not your fault. Stop blaming yourself for what had to be done to protect your daughter.”

He puckered his lips against her fingertips. “How do you see me? How do you know me so well?”

“Because when I look at you, I see a reflection of all my doubts and fears…and my hopes. Because I still have hope, even more now that I’ve met you.”

He reached for her across the seat, and she went willingly, squeezing past the steering wheel to straddle him in the passenger seat. His hand scooped through her curly mop of damp hair as he leveled her head with his for a kiss.

As his tongue probed her mouth, she ran her hands down his body and peeled off his jacket. Despite the cool temperatures, Michael wore a thin, white T-shirt beneath the jacket, and it clung to his muscled framed.

Her fingers danced beneath the hem of his shirt, and she lightly ran her nails across his chest. He shivered beneath her, encircling her waist with his hands. As she rocked against him, he lifted his hips and reached down to fumble with the fly of his jeans.

She shooed away his clumsy hands and deftly undid the button and zipper. He returned the favor. As she rose to her knees, he yanked her jeans and panties down her thighs.

Falling against him, they met, skin on skin, and a deep need pulsed in her core. She trailed her lips across the dark shadow of bristles on his chin and whispered in his ear, “Are we mad?”

“I’ve ached for you for days. When I heard the gunshots tonight, I felt a dread so pure, I couldn’t name it.” He smoothed her hair back from her face. “I can’t name this.”

“We don’t need to label it.” She shifted against him, feeling his physical need for her, fueling her desire for him.

He cupped her backside with his strong hands and lowered her hips until he entered her tentatively at first, and then his pelvis thrust forward. He slid deep inside her, filling every recess of longing and hurt.

She undulated against him until they found a cadence all their own, where he seemed to anticipate her desires, and she answered his every request. Their passion raged to a fever pitch, and Natalie threw out a hand against the foggy window to try for some leverage against the coming inferno.

When Michael came, he wrapped his arms around her waist and took her along for the ride. Throwing back her head, she pressed against him, gritting her teeth, her muscles taut, until she shattered.

They clasped each other close, arms, legs, clothes, all in a tangle, rocking together, not wanting to let the other go. Her head dropped to his shoulder, and her tongue darted out to lick his neck, salty with his sweat.

As she began to peel herself from his chest, a siren whooped twice, and a red light illuminated their love nest.

Wide-eyed, their gazes locked until Michael broke the spell by cursing. Natalie scrambled back into her seat, pulling at her jeans. Just as she grabbed her zipper, a hard object tapped at her window.

She murmured to Michael. “Are you decent?”

He grunted. “Getting there.”

Natalie pulled her hair from her face and powered down the window to reveal Deputy Reynolds’s grinning visage. Knots formed in her gut, as she searched his face for signs of recognition. She had darkness on her side.

His gaze jumped from her to Michael, and his mouth turned into an O and his eyebrows shot up and disappeared beneath his hat.

“Well, well. Is this a work meeting?”

The sight of his face made Natalie’s stomach turn, but he didn’t seem to know her beyond her purpose here in town. How could Katie have ever thought this smarmy loser was cute?

Michael’s voice, so different from his whispers minutes before, boomed in the car. “Yeah. Yeah, it is. Are we breaking any laws, Deputy Reynolds?”

“Excuse me.” He lifted his shoulders. “Saw the car, the steamy windows and figured you two were a couple of kids making out.”

Tipping up her chin, Natalie huffed. “Clearly, we’re not.”

“Clearly.” Reynolds’s gaze dropped to her lap, where her jeans still gaped open. He rapped on the outside of the car with his knuckles. “Can’t get enough of this area, hey, Wilder?”

Michael slicked back his hair with one hand. “Actually, Raine’s homicide might have something to do with some cold cases—a few you even worked on, Reynolds.”

Reynolds’s face seemed to blanch in the darkness, but that could’ve been Natalie’s imagination. His Adam’s apple did bob. “Is that so?”

“Yep. Just discovered some bombshell evidence tonight…but you’ll have to wait until tomorrow when I present it to Detective Ibarra. Now, if you’re all done harassing us, we’ve got a meeting to finish up.”

Reynolds backed away from the car, hands raised. “Carry on.”

They sat still until they heard his car pull away. Then Natalie covered her mouth and giggled. Michael slapped his knee and let out a guffaw. They turned to each other at the same time and fell into each other’s arms, laughing.

Natalie buried her face against Michael’s T-shirt, wiping her tears. Maybe they laughed all the more because they knew tomorrow they’d be unleashing a firestorm.