Garrett sat down in one of the chairs and nodded his head at Laurel to take the other seat. “You have to understand, I promised James I’d stay out of the investigation. I have. For his sake.”
“But—”
Garrett raised his hand to interrupt her argument. “I get it. Things have changed. We’re taking a huge risk, though. I could make his situation worse. You have to understand that, Laurel.”
How much worse could it get?
Laurel couldn’t sit still. She paced back and forth. Her father could already be dead. But if he wasn’t, what if this decision caused him to lose his life? Her mind whirled with confusion. The analytical part of her brain didn’t like the missing data.
She lifted her gaze to him before taking her seat again. “If your father were missing, what would you do?”
“If my father were still alive, I’d do whatever it took to find him.”
“And live with the consequences?”
“In this situation, yes. The alternative is worse,” Garrett said. “Your father has made a lot of enemies over the years, but more than that, if we don’t discover who is behind your sister’s murder, you and Molly will never be safe. Those men will never stop coming after you.”
“Oh, a big kitty! Come here, kitty, kitty.” Molly’s voice rang out from outside the cabin.
Laurel jumped to her feet at the same time as Garrett. “What kind of cats—?”
“Not domestic.”
Garrett pulled the Beretta from its holster and slammed through the front door of the ranch house. Laurel’s footsteps thundered behind him.
“Oh, God,” she whispered.
Molly stood about ten feet from the porch, across a clearing. Her hand reached out toward a large cougar, its long, thick tail swinging to and fro.
“Good kitty,” Molly sang out, stepping forward.
The cat crouched, hissing.
“Molly,” Garrett said, his tone firm with what his daughter had called his mean voice.
The little girl froze. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”
He guessed the mean voice still worked, but the memory also returned that horrible helplessness that he never experienced when facing his own death—or even the death of another agent.
Only a child’s death could evoke the fear that seeped through his very soul.
Without hesitation, Garrett aimed his weapon at the animal, cursing inside for the animal to stop moving. As it was, it was going to be an impossible shot.
“Molly.” Garrett forced his voice to remain calm. “That’s not a kitty cat. I need you to stay very, very still, sugar. Don’t move. I’m going to shoot a gun.”
“Too loud,” Molly whimpered, shaking her head back and forth, clasping her ears with her hands and squatting down.
Damn it. She’d made herself a target. The cat hunched down on its front paws, clearly preparing to pounce. Garrett couldn’t wait. What he wouldn’t give for his father’s old Remington. He could take out the animal with one shot. A rifle was so much more accurate than a handgun at this distance.
The cat growled, opening its mouth in a show of aggression.
Molly squealed and tumbled backward, becoming a perfect target for the predator.
Garrett ran at Molly, shouting. He had to get closer. Startled, the animal shifted its focus, turning away from Molly. Garrett took four shots at the mountain lion. The big cat yowled once and bounded away, disappearing into the cover of the trees. He’d aimed the shots wide on purpose. Injuring the animal could have done more harm than good, especially if he hadn’t been able to take it down. A wounded cat could tear out Molly’s throat in seconds.
He’d played the odds.
Thankfully, the animal hadn’t gone against its nature. Garrett kept his weapon on hold, searching beyond the shrubs and piñons for the cougar. Cats were normally reclusive, avoiding humans, but they were curious as well.
“Get her,” he called to Laurel.
Behind him, she scooped Molly into her arms. The little girl sobbed. Laurel hugged her niece close. “It’s okay. You’re safe.”
Garrett backed toward them, scanning the perimeter, but there was no movement beyond the tree line. He kept the Beretta in his hand and headed to the house.
“I—I want my mommy.” Molly hiccuped from Laurel’s arms. “Mommy!”
“It’s gone,” he said.
No need to take chances, though. Within seconds, he’d escorted them inside. Once they were safe, he shut and locked the door. The little escape artist had figured out the dead bolt. He’d have to secure the door another way. It had been a long time since he’d childproofed anything.
His knees shook slightly, and he grabbed the doorjamb for support. Garrett could face down at AK-47 or an Uzi without increasing his heart rate by a beat or two.
A milk-faced Laurel sank into the sofa, rocking Molly in her arms. The little girl’s cries tugged at his heart. Laurel rubbed her niece’s back, and she turned her head to Garrett.
Thank you, she mouthed.
He’d brought them here, though. He’d put Molly in danger. He should have anticipated. He knew better. Whoever said girls didn’t get into as much trouble as boys hadn’t lived with his Ella. Or Molly.
“I just wanted to play with the kitty,” she said through hiccups. “He’s the same color as my lion.”
Now that they were safe, Garrett’s breathing slowed from a quick pant. He crouched next to the sofa. “I know, Molly, but that kind of kitty doesn’t play. He’s a wild animal. No more going outside alone. Okay?”
“I want your promise, Molly,” Laurel said, her voice stern. “You can’t go outside without me or Sheriff Garrett.”
The little girl squirmed in Laurel’s arms. “Okay.”
Laurel allowed her niece to slide to the ground, but Garrett didn’t trust that look. His daughter had played the game before. He held Molly firmly by the shoulders, looking her squarely in the eyes. “Listen to me, Molly. Outside is dangerous. We’re in the woods and you could get lost. We might not find you. I want a real promise.”
Her lower lip jutted out.
“Molly.”
She let out a huge sigh. “I promise. Cross my heart, stick a nail in my eye, even if I don’t want to.”
Garrett
