as she pulled her short vest closer around her neck. Outside the center of town, the wind was stronger and cooler. “I should be able to come to the police station without tears, right? I’m a big girl. Regardless of Jackson’s warning, I need to report what happened to me. I mean, he’d insist I tell the police if he knew I’d been pushed into traffic, right? They’d be able to investigate it better than he could.”
She straightened her shoulders, obviously trying to look taller than she really was. As a petite, slender woman, she couldn’t really pull it off.
Why wouldn’t this Jackson guy trust the police? Why even say that? Zane thought. Unless it had something to do with that phone call she’d received back in the café. The one he now figured came from Jackson.
He was from the FBI, Kristin had said. He wouldn’t fool around with her life.
Several government cars pulled into the parking lot. Kristin moved to one side to allow them to park. The wind raised a few strands of her hair, flicking them over to one side. His hand itched to set them back in place and cover that scar she hid so well. “You don’t have to go in there.”
“I should. I should remember what my pastor told me. My parents are together with Jesus now. And the Lord wouldn’t give me any situation I can’t handle. I handled their deaths.” She looked over at the station, as if steeling herself. “I can do this.”
Zane shifted uncomfortably. Another one like Jake Downs that believed God is good, even when He dumped on you. That was because they didn’t have the childhood Zane had.
“Nonetheless, you don’t have to go in.”
She wavered a bit, he could see. Then she shook her head. “I should. Someone pushed me in front of that truck and I wouldn’t be here right now if I hadn’t managed to roll away quickly. God was looking out for me.”
“If God was looking out for you, He wouldn’t have put that truck on the road or that idiot on the sidewalk.”
“He gave me the agility I needed.” A frown marked her forehead. “This isn’t the time to debate the merits of my faith. I need to go into this station sooner or later. I’m going in, now.” She lifted her chin. “And maybe I can show you that I’m sincere in doing this, so that you’ll help me find my biological mother.”
He hated her intuition, not to mention the guilt she was dumping on him. But before he could say anything, she added with a soft, sweet smile, “I appreciate all you’ve done so far.”
“I haven’t done anything,” he growled.
“You were there for me at the café.”
He took her arm and steered her toward the front door. He hadn’t done a single thing for her yet, nor had he promised to do anything. And yet she was thanking him.
He should help her.
But still, a voice within him whispered, she hasn’t told you much. All you’ve heard is a sad, little story.
He glanced down at her as she tugged free of his grip and moved forward. He watched her straighten up and stiffen her spine.
Across the back of her vest were two faint smears of something dark and iridescent. Some kind of grease? From the hands of the man who pushed her?
Before he could say anything, she strode toward the front door. With a frown, he took the few long steps needed to catch up with her.
Inside the station, a police officer recognized Kristin, and led them down to a small office. She hesitated in the doorway before pushing inside. They sat down and Kristin began to speak.
She told her story, haltingly, he thought.
And leaving out, he noticed, the part of why she had asked to meet Zane.
And the part about Martino’s trial. Zane kept his mouth shut, deciding he would say something only if it became necessary. Maybe she was rethinking that just because she’d attended a trial did not necessarily mean the convicted felon would go after her.
The officer recorded it all, getting the statement written up quickly for her to sign.
“You should take her vest,” Zane suggested to the man when all was done.
The officer frowned. “Why?”
Zane answered by asking Kristin to remove the vest. With a small frown, she peeled it off, and Zane spread it out on the table between him and the officer. The dark smudges he’d seen earlier stood out starkly in the cool fluorescent lights. They shimmered like some kind of special automotive grease. The two marks were shaped like fingerprints.
“Whoever pushed her left those marks. They may reveal fingerprints.”
The officer retrieved a large paper bag and set the vest in it, then wrote out a receipt for her. “I’ll have a look at it later, but you must remember that this is a college town, and students do stupid things, even early in the morning. Someone could have just jostled you, Ms. Perry, and then slipped back into the crowd so he wouldn’t be accused of anything.”
“I distinctly felt two hands on my back.”
“This is a thick vest. Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.” She stiffened her shoulders. “Why would I lie?”
The officer shook his head. “I’m not saying you’re lying. You may be mistaken. We often get reports of students jumping the gun on things that later prove to be just an accident, or not real at all.”
She glared. “I know what I felt.”
“You just lost both parents, Ms. Perry,” the officer continued calmly. “It can have a devastating effect on people.”
Zane’s hand shot out to stop Kristin before she did or said something stupid. He could feel her muscles tighten under his fingers. “Can you just check the vest?”
“Sure.” The officer looked doubtful, but then shrugged. “We’ll see what we can find, but don’t expect too much.”
“I understand.” Rising, she shoved out her hand. “Thank you. I hope you can find something useful on that vest. And I hope you find who did this to me.”
“You said no one saw anything. It may be hard to do.”
“Surely if you ask around, someone will remember something. People aren’t going to accuse others right in public, but they may be willing to talk in private.” Kristin looked hopefully at the man.
The officer shrugged before shaking her hand and then Zane’s. They left the office, passing several plainclothes officers who watched Kristin closely. Was she known to them because of her adoptive parents’ untimely deaths? Minutes later, she and Zane were outside again.
She sighed. “That felt like a waste of my time.”
Zane stopped her as she walked toward his car. “Why didn’t you say anything about the trial?”
“Because of the way Jackson was talking. Like I shouldn’t trust anyone. Plus, it may not have been related.”
