Page 19

CHAPTER NINETEEN

The sound of a snapping twig had Aidan whirling around. He slowly straightened as Grace emerged from between two trees.

“What the— Grace, what are you doing here?” He scanned the woods surrounding them.

“They’re not with me,” she assured him. “I spoke to Dawson and Ortiz when I got here. They had just rendezvoused at the ruins of your cabin to confer about where to search next for our bow and arrow guy. They told me this section was where you were looking.”

He scanned the woods again. “I’m not worried about where the police are. I’m worried about where the shooter might be. Please tell me you’re wearing your Kevlar vest under your jacket.”

She glanced down and grimaced. “Actually, no. I was hot earlier and hung it on my chair at the station. Didn’t even think about it when I went looking for you.”

He swore beneath his breath. “Then put mine on.”

She stopped him from shrugging out of his coat to remove his vest by pressing her hand against his chest. “No. No way will I take your vest. If something happened to you, I couldn’t live with that guilt.”

“Then you’re leaving. Now. Let’s go.” He grabbed her arm.

She pulled away from him and frowned. “I’ll leave you to your searching in a minute. But I need to tell you something first.”

What she didn’t realize was that he was doing everything he could to make himself a target to lure the shooter out into the open. He was still clinging to a tiny shred of doubt that Niall was the shooter. But if he was, then Aidan had to do everything he could to make sure he was brought in safe and sound. He couldn’t leave the capture of his son to the police who might be trigger-happy when confronted with a man with a deadly crossbow. The problem was, if Aiden standing on exposed cliffs and loudly stomping around the creeks and streams on his property in the areas where it made sense that someone might camp out or hide had attracted any attention, then his son was on his way right now to confront him.

And Grace could get caught in the cross fire.

“Talk to me while I escort you back to your vehicle,” Aidan said, reaching for her again.

She jerked her arm away and frowned at him. “All right, all right. But stop grabbing me like you’re about to throw me over your knee and spank me.”

He coughed to hide a smile. “You don’t like to be spanked. Good to know.”

She rolled her eyes.

He scanned the path and trees again, then motioned for her to walk beside him.

“I got the results back from the FBI lab,” she told him.

His stomach dropped. “Go on.” His throat was tight as he waited to find out whether his theory about the shooter’s identity was right.

“They confirm the man we’re after is the one from the festival, and everything happening up here at your place.”

“You knew that already.”

“I suspected it. Now there’s proof in the form of shoe-print analysis, fingerprint analysis and DNA.”

He stopped. “DNA?”

“A full profile. The lab entered it into CODIS—that’s the—”

“FBI DNA database. I know. When I confessed to Elly’s murder they took my DNA sample and added my profile to that same database.” He started forward again, his hand on the small of her back urging her to keep moving.

“The FBI has entered the Crossbow Killer’s DNA into CODIS, too, from the crime scenes already attributed to him. The hope is that a suspect will eventually be identified to match against that profile at some point. But when the lab submitted the Mystic Lake shooter’s profile it didn’t come back as a match to the Crossbow Killer.”

“Did not come back as a match?”

“Not even close. The anonymous call about the Crossbow Killer being in Mystic Lake was wrong. The suspect for these local events is someone else entirely. Which supports my theory that the Mystic Lake shooting suspect is probably the same person who submitted that anonymous tip in the first place, because he was trying to frame you and send you back to prison.”

He held up a low-hanging branch to let her through, then joined her again on the path. “You came all the way up here and hiked a quarter mile through the woods to tell me the suspect all of us are chasing isn’t the Crossbow Killer? That information could have waited.”

“True. But this couldn’t. I wanted to make sure you knew before you heard it from someone else. The DNA profile—”

“Malone? You out here?” Fletcher’s voice rang through the woods somewhere ahead.

“Good grief. She’s determined I shouldn’t be around you,” Grace said. “I’m here,” she called out. “We’re coming toward you.”

“Okay,” Fletcher called back.

“The DNA profile?” Aidan asked, stepping over a fallen log then lifting Grace over it.

She smiled her thanks, but put her hand on his chest, stopping him.

“Grace, we need to get going.”

“Just one minute, okay?” She kept her voice low. “I want to tell you this before we reach Fletcher.”

He sighed and looked around, actively watching the woods. “Hurry. Tell me what’s so important.”

“Our suspect’s DNA wasn’t a match to the Crossbow Killer. But it was a partial match, a familial match to another profile in the database. There were thirteen core DNA loci between the two, which is why CODIS spit it out.”

He felt the blood drain from his face. “Familial?”

She looked at him with such sympathy that it nearly broke him.

“Just say it, Grace.”

“The partial match was to you. The suspect, the one here in Mystic Lake, is related to you by blood. He shares 50 percent of your DNA. I’m so sorry. It’s no longer just a theory. The shooter we’re looking for is definitely Niall. Your son.”

“I knew it,” he whispered, barely able to get out the words. “But hearing it from you, knowing there’s no room for doubt anymore, makes it so much worse.”

She reached her hands up and cupped his face, her gaze searching his. “I’m so sorry, Aidan.”

He gently tugged her arms down, even though he wanted nothing more right now than to find solace in the arms of this amazing woman. But he couldn’t allow his selfish needs or desires put her at risk for another second. “We really have to go. I’ve done everything I can to draw out the—to draw out my son if he’s hiding on my property. You can’t be out here without your vest to at least offer some partial protection.”

Her eyes widened. “What did you do to draw him out?”

He grabbed her hand and tugged her forward. “Everything but shout a dare from the top of the mountain. Maybe I’ll do that next, after you’re somewhere safe.”

“Oh, Aidan. I wish you wouldn’t be so careless about your own safety. You shouldn’t—”

“Malone? Where are you?” Fletcher walked around some bushes and stopped when she saw Aidan. Her gaze flitted down to where Aidan was holding Grace’s hand.

Aidan tugged his hand free, ignoring Grace’s unhappy frown. He motioned toward Fletcher. “You brought Malone’s vest?”

Grace blinked as if just now realizing that Fletcher was holding it.

“Of course,” Fletcher said. “She ran out of the station without it, risking her life to come find you, I might add. I called Dawson and he told me where you were, so I figured that’s where she’d go.” She gave Grace a hard look. “Even though you aren’t answering your phone.”

“Sorry,” Grace said. “When I saw you calling I turned off the ringer. I had something else on my mind and didn’t want to lose my focus.”

Fletcher snorted. “It’s obvious what, or who, you had on your mind. You didn’t want to hear me say anything bad about him. That’s why you didn’t answer.”

Aidan stepped forward and took the vest from her. “Thank you for bringing this.” He turned to Grace. “Over or under your jacket?”

She blew out a frustrated breath. “Under. Give me a second.” She quickly worked at her buttons.

The barest whisper of sound had Aidan whirling toward the woods off to his left, searching for the source. A flash of white through the trees was his only warning. “Get down,” he yelled, diving toward Fletcher and throwing her to the ground.

“He’s here,” Grace yelled into her phone as she scrambled behind a tree and yanked out her gun. “Dawson, the suspect just shot at Fletcher.”

The policewoman was lying on the ground, looking stunned as she stared up at the arrow embedded in a thick oak tree just past where she’d been standing moments ago. “My God,” she said. “That would have gone right through my head if you hadn’t knocked me down.”

Aidan grabbed her shoulders and yanked her behind the cover of a thick tree. “You’ll have another chance to die if you don’t pay attention and use your training. He’s still out there.”

Fletcher stared at him, then blew out a shaky breath. “Okay, okay. Right. Which way did he—”

A young man stepped out from behind a thick bush not far from Grace. The same young man Aidan only got to see in a new picture once a year through his lawyer.

Niall.

He was aiming his crossbow at Aidan.

Niall sneered. “Finally, after all these years.” A single tear coursed down his cheek. “Killed anyone else’s mom lately?”

“Drop it!” Grace yelled, aiming her gun at Niall.

“No,” Aidan shouted. “Don’t.”

Niall whirled toward her, still holding his bow.

“Son, don’t do it.” Aidan jumped to his feet.

Bam!

A red wet spot appeared on Niall’s shirt and quickly began to spread across his chest. His eyes widened in surprise as he fell to the ground, his bow landing harmlessly beside him.

Aidan froze, then looked at Grace in horror.

“No,” she whispered. “I didn’t shoot.”

He turned and saw Fletcher still sitting on the ground, her pistol in her hands, pointed at his son.

“Dad?” A pitiful, confused rasp broke through Aidan’s shock. “Daddy?”

“I’m here, son. Daddy’s here.” He dropped to his knees and desperately pressed his hands against Niall’s wound to try to stop the bleeding. As if through a long, deep tunnel, he registered the sounds of Grace calling 911 for an ambulance and Fletcher calling Dawson, telling him they needed help. But all of that faded at the horror of feeling his son’s lifeblood seeping through his fingers.