to any length to get it. Violetta wanted the same, but she wasn’t willing to break the law to get it. On the other hand, she wasn’t willing to cooperate with law enforcement to make her brother pay for his crimes.
But Esme...
Ian couldn’t wrap her in a tidy package and put a label on her. That bothered him. He’d spent most of his adult life studying people, figuring them out, deciding whether they were telling the truth, were dangerous or could be trusted. He’d missed the mark with Jake Morrow. A member of the Tactical K-9 team, Jake had put on a good show. He’d pretended to be everything the team believed in—a man of honesty, integrity, honor. That hadn’t meant Ian had liked him. There’d always been something a little cocky about Jake, something a little off. Still, he’d trusted him.
That trust had been misplaced.
Jake had been on the Dupree payroll. He’d betrayed the team, and he was still on the loose, still causing trouble.
“Here’s my point,” he said, King panting quietly beside him. “You came to a place where anyone who knew anything about you would look for you. You would have been better off sticking with witness protection.”
“One innocent person already lost her life because I was in the program. I’m not going to risk someone else dying for the same reason.”
“We had a leak. We’ve sealed it. No one else is going to be hurt,” he responded, keeping his tone neutral. He’d thought she was worried about her own safety, that she’d run from the program because she thought she’d be safer away from it. The fact that she’d been worried about others put a twist on things. A twist he didn’t like. He wanted to lump her in with the rest of the family, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t seem to do it.
“You don’t seem to understand.” She swung around, her auburn ponytail flying in an arc as she moved. “One person being hurt is too many. I think about it every day. About how that woman died because someone mistook her for me.”
“It wasn’t because of you. It was because of your uncle and your brother. It was because they thought they were above the law, because they hadn’t expected to ever be stopped. They like their money and their power, and neither of them want to give it up.”
“Yeah. I know.” She sighed, walking away, heading toward the distant emergency lights, her stride hitched but brisk, her shoulders straight.
“Esme,” he said, not sure what he wanted to add, what he could possibly say to make things better or easier or right.
“I think we’ve both said everything we need to, Ian. How about you just let me do what I need to? I’m sure the police would like to talk to you, and I’ve got a long way to go before I reach civilization.”
He could have stopped her.
He had the authority to do it. He had the strength. He had King.
But he let her go, because he thought she needed some space. It was five miles to the main road, and there were emergency vehicles everywhere. She’d be safe enough.
“All right,” he said, and she met his eyes.
He thought he saw tears before she looked away again.
Then she was moving, putting distance between them, her backpack lying a yard away, abandoned on the muddy ground. He snagged it, figuring she’d want it later. He needed to check in with the local police, and then he’d get in his SUV and pick her up on the way out.
“King,” he said, and the dog looked at him, eager for the next command. “Guard!”
The Malinois took off, racing across the clearing, his light brown fur visible in the darkness as he followed Esme through the trees and out into the main campground.
Long Pine Key Campground was not difficult to find. Esme simply followed the flashing emergency lights through a copse of mangroves and out into a field of vegetation. The vehicles were probably a quarter mile away, but the darkness made them easy enough to see. She picked her way across the field, the ground growing soggier with every step. If it got any wetter, she’d have to find another route. She didn’t mind getting wet, but she didn’t like the idea of being knee-deep in water that was filled with slimy, slithery, scaly creatures.
Esme was almost ready to turn back when she spotted a wooden walkway that stretched the remainder of the way across the area. She stepped onto it, the wood giving a little as she moved.
She was halfway over when she heard quiet panting and the soft pad of paws. Her heart in her throat, she spun around, her sore ankle nearly giving out. The dog was there. Of course. King. And he was so close she could have reached out and touched his nose, so close she could feel his panting breath on her hand, see his goofy smile through the darkness.
Because he was smiling again.
Why wouldn’t he be?
She kept running. He kept finding her. A fun game for a dog. Not so much fun for Esme.
“Go home,” she commanded.
The dog didn’t even blink.
“Where’s your partner?” She glanced back the way she’d come, saw nothing but the empty field and shadowy mangroves. “Did he tell you to follow me?”
The dog settled on his haunches, his dark eyes looking straight into hers.
“Release!” she commanded, pointing in the direction she wanted him to go.
Nothing.
“Go! Cease!”
Still nothing.
“Fine. Do what you want. I’ve got more important things to do than argue with a dog.” She limped the rest of the way across the boardwalk, stepping onto wet grass, King close behind her.
The Long Pine Key parking area was straight ahead, the dark figures of emergency personnel visible in the flashing strobe lights of their vehicles. She’d seen way too many emergency vehicles the past few months. Beginning with the one that had been sent to the scene of her brother’s crime.
She’d still been in shock—the memory of Reginald pointing the gun and firing it, of a man falling to the ground, blood spurting from his chest, taking up so much room in her mind, there hadn’t been space to create memories of conversations she’d had, of people she’d spoken to. All she could remember were the emergency lights and the questions, barked one right after another—a series of words that had had no meaning.
Esme sighed.
She knew Ian meant well. She knew the FBI meant well. Law enforcement, witness protection, they meant well, too. But meaning well couldn’t keep her alive.
Better to not take a chance of being waylaid by another well-meaning entity. She’d steer clear of law enforcement. She turned to the right, heading through a grove of cypress trees, aiming for the road that led into the parking lot. It should be straight ahead. She didn’t have her map, but she’d memorized the topography and knew what landmarks to look for
