She made herself watch as the man abandoned his hold on her, and she tried to commit every detail to memory.
There was the way he shuffled a little, favoring his right foot. How that shuffle masked his height and gave the impression that he was so much shorter than he was.
There was the fact that even though his face was covered by a ski mask, she could see a mottled mark on one eyelid. Maybe a bruise, maybe a birthmark.
She saw his jeans, and how dirt permeated the denim—not just near the bottom, but all over.
But when he stepped up to the painting, those observations kind of slipped away. Because he lifted his hand and touched it, just like she’d done minutes earlier. And he seemed...satisfied.
Fear gave way for a second. Curiosity took its place. Liz genuinely wanted to know what it was that he felt. What it was that made him nod, ever so slightly.
But when he angled his gaze back in her direction, renewed fear sliced through her. And his words turned the fear into terror.
“You have a daughter,” he said.
A whimper threatened. “Please. Take the painting. Take them all. And the money.”
“Believe me. I’d like to.” An unpleasant hunger laced his tone.
“Do it.”
“Not what I came for, unfortunately.” He stepped back again, his eyes running over Liz.
Panic hit her. “Don’t—”
He cut her off with a dark chuckle. “No. Not that, either. But consider this a warning. For you and your kid. You’re going to want to call the cops. You’re going to want to run to someone and tell them I was here. But I guarantee you that doing either will result in bad things happening to the both of you.”
He gave another head-to-toe stare, his expression so cold that Liz had no doubt he was telling the truth.
Bad things.
Just vague enough to be even more terrifying than the man’s presence.
“Do we have an understanding?” he asked.
Liz managed a nod. “Yes.”
“Good.”
He at last turned away and limped out at a jog. Liz started to draw in a semi-relieved breath, but as he disappeared through the storage door, her daughter’s laugh echoed from the same direction. Oxygen forgotten, Liz’s feet hit the floor at a dead run.
Detective Harley Maxwell paused in his chase and scanned the building in search of his target. Except for the buzz of a neon shop sign a few doors up, the air was silent.
Which actually might work in your favor.
Keeping very still, he strained to hear a sound—the crunch of gravel, the creak of a door—that would indicate the correct direction. Then it came. The light brush of feet on pavement from around the side. Harley pushed down his triumph. He’d celebrate once he had his hands on his wily escapee.
He moved to the edge of the building and pressed himself against its side with practiced stealth. He knew he wasn’t the fastest runner on his team of partners, but what he lacked in natural athleticism he made up for in cunning.
Slow and steady, he cautioned himself as he inched along. Surprise is your friend.
He reached the edge of the building then and paused again. He started to ease forward. Before he could make it even a single step, a figure came stumbling around the corner.
Prepared for victory, Harley reached out. “Aha! Now I’ve got—Whoa!”
He froze midgrab, as he realized his hands were clasped to someone other than the person he pursued. Not that he didn’t recognize her. The short curvy woman with her untamed head of brown curls was more than familiar to him. His cover story—that he was an aspiring artist in the small town, trying to find his muse—included subletting the studio beside her apartment. The fact that his short-term apartment rental had gone bust in a flood meant temporarily staying in the studio 24/7. So he’d spent enough time close to her over the last week to have her smattering of freckles and full lips permanently etched into his memory.
Yeah, said a voice in his head. Close to her. But not this close.
He had to agree. He hadn’t been near enough to know for sure that her skin would be warm and soft, and though he’d caught hints of her perfume before, its lightly floral fragrance hadn’t ever filled his nose quite so thoroughly before.
Realizing he still held her arms, he dropped his hands and tried to take a cautious step back, but her hands came up to stop him, almost clutching at his shirt. Concern flooded through him. Automatically, he brought his fingers up to hers to offer comfort.
“Hey,” he said as he gave her a quick soothing squeeze. “What’s the matter? Something happen at the store?”
“No. It’s Teegan.” Her gaze darted around frantically. “Where is she? I heard her, but now I can’t find her.”
Harley relaxed a little. “Kind of the point of the game.”
“What?”
“Hide-and-seek.”
“She’s hiding?” The tension in Liz’s face eased marginally.
“Yeah,” Harley replied. “And in case you didn’t know, the monkey’s pretty darned good at it, too. You’d think in a three-building limit, she’d be easy to spot, but I’ve been looking for her for a solid two minutes and haven’t spotted her yet.”
“I really did hear her a second ago, but—” The pretty brunette’s eyes crinkled with worry again.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I just need her to come in. Quickly. Please.”
“All right.” He cupped his hands around his mouth and called out, “Olly, olly, oxen free! You win, monkey!”
“Yes!” The little girl’s triumphant cry came from above.
Harley tipped his gaze up, and rolled his eyes as he spotted a flash of purple on the side of the building. Like an actual monkey, she’d managed to scamper up the solitary evergreen tree there, then used one of its wide branches to tuck herself in behind the Liz’s Lovely Things sign. Her grinning face popped out, and she offered a wave. Harley shook his head and smiled back. She had a right to be proud. No way would he have found her on his own.
He turned to say as much to her mom, but the words didn’t make it out. Liz’s posture was rigid, her eyes focused across the road rather than on her daughter. Automatically, Harley widened his stance defensively and craned his neck to see what she saw. He spotted the object of her attention right away. A man.
He stood near the end of the block, tucked against the door frame of a closed shop. There was something off about him. Harley had seen enough people who were up to no good to recognize one
