behind her. “Not yet, Tim, but they’re on their way.”
“They’re singing,” Tim gasped. “So beautiful.” His eyes bore a faraway look.
And suddenly Tracie realized Tim was no longer really with her. “Tim,” she choked on his name. “Tim, stay with me. Look at me!” she demanded.
Tim shifted his gaze to her face, and his pupils dilated as he focused on her.
“Who did this to you?” Tracie could feel the tears running down her cheeks. She realized Tim didn’t have much time. Likely the only way they’d ever bring his killer to justice was if he could name him before he died.
Tracie watched the light fade from his eyes.
“No, Tim. Look at me! Who did this?”
Tim blinked. “T—” he choked. “T-Tre—”
Tracie focused, pleading with her eyes.
“—verrrr.” The last syllable escaped his mouth in a sigh.
And he was gone.
Tracie picked up his hand and held it to her lips. “No.” She tried to squeeze back the tears. “No, please, no.”
She didn’t realize Heath stood behind her until she felt his hand on her back.
“Perimeter’s clear,” he said softly.
Tracie nodded. She didn’t look up at Heath, but neither did she push his hand away. It wasn’t until the paramedics came rushing in that she stood and turned to face him.
“We shouldn’t have left him alone. We should have put him in protective custody.”
“He didn’t want to go,” Heath reminded her. “Besides, we thought we had everybody.”
“It doesn’t matter!” Tracie hugged herself tightly. “We should have insisted. He could have gotten mad at us, but at least he’d still be alive.” She looked back over her shoulder in time to see the medics draping a sheet over Tim’s body. She pinched her eyes shut.
Heath’s hand fell gently on her arm. “We can’t go back in time. Don’t blame yourself.”
Much as Tracie would have liked to push him away, she found she couldn’t bring herself to shrug off the light touch of his hand. She took a moment to steady her breathing, then looked Heath directly in the eye. “We have to catch whoever did this.”
The corner of Heath’s strong jaw shifted in a determined expression. “I think it was the same person who shot at us on Saturday.”
“That makes sense,” Tracie acknowledged, “but we don’t have any evidence to link anyone to either crime.”
“Don’t we?” Heath moved closer to Tracie as investigators scurried around behind them, and his hand slid higher on her arm. “You asked Tim who did this. I heard his answer.”
“You did?” A shudder rippled through her. “But all he said was—” She stopped and pinched her eyes shut, too afraid to speak the word out loud.
Heath’s mouth moved close to her ear. “Trevor,” he whispered.
She pulled back and looked at him, her eyes wide. “But what does that mean? Trevor’s friends? Trevor’s associates, his rivals, his enemies? We don’t know what Tim was going to say.”
“He said Trevor.” Heath looked at her with an intensity that made her want to shrink away.
“Trevor’s dead,” she insisted in a whisper. Didn’t Heath understand? She’d seen Trevor’s dead body floating in Lake Superior. There was no way a dead man could commit murder.
“His body was never recovered,” Heath challenged her.
Tracie shook her head, still feeling shell shocked. “Trevor’s dead,” she repeated.
Heath nodded, took a step back, and bowed his head. When he looked back up at her, his eyes wore an unreadable look. “Right.” He said simply. “Right.”
Jonas sounded frustrated when Heath finally reached him by phone later that afternoon to report on what had happened.
“He was still alive when you reached the house?” his supervisor clarified.
“Barely,” Heath conceded. “If we’d have gotten there a moment later, we wouldn’t know anything. As it was, I think it’s pretty clear he was blaming his brother for his death, but Tracie doesn’t necessarily see things that way.”
“Ah,” Jonas’s tone brightened. “The two of you are close now, hmm?”
Heath cringed. “She’s not the most open and trusting person, but I think she’s starting to let me in.” He thought about the brief time she’d allowed him to rest his hand on her arm. It wasn’t much—for most people, he wouldn’t think of it as anything. But with Tracie, it was progress.
“Starting to?” Frustration edged back into Jonas’s tone. “Look, we’ve got a gunman on the loose and we’ve just lost a witness. We don’t have time for you to ease your way into this. Tracie Crandall knows way more than she’s telling, and until we learn what she knows, we run the risk of losing more lives on this, maybe yours.” Jonas paused, and his voice dropped an octave to take on bone-chilling seriousness. “If you can’t handle this, Heath, tell me now, and I’ll put in someone who can.”
“I’m on it.”
Tracie took a long soak in the tub, but she couldn’t seem to wash away the chill she felt after watching Tim pass away in her arms. She dressed in her comfiest yoga pants and an oversized sweatshirt, and joined Gunnar in the kitchen, where her bare cupboards offered little to console her. Even Gunnar whined when she poured him the same old dry dog food.
“Sorry, buddy,” she whispered when he looked up at her with pleading eyes.
She jumped at the sound of the doorbell. “You expecting anyone?” she asked the dog.
Gunnar cocked his head to the side and barked once before trotting off toward the front door. Tracie followed him and flipped the switch for the porch light. The broad-shouldered silhouette at the door appeared to be holding a pizza box. Tracie let go of the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.
She looked down at her dog. “I didn’t order pizza. You?”
Gunnar ignored her and poked his head through the doggie door.
Taking her cue from her dog, Tracie drew closer and peeked tentatively through the sheer curtains.
“It’s me. Heath,” her partner mouthed as he peered back at her through the gap in the shades.
Tracie jumped back and opened the door. “What are you doing here?” She grabbed Gunnar by the collar before he could attack.
Heath stepped into the house holding the pizza above his head. “Since you turned me down last night, I decided tonight I wouldn’t bother to ask.”
