horn blasting, its brakes locking and tires squealing. Throwing his arms over his face, he prayed he’d live through the next few seconds.
The usually busy Texas Ranger headquarters building in Austin was quiet—except for the beating of Paige Bryant’s heart and her niggling feeling that something wasn’t quite right.
“Stop it. Just stop it. You’re being silly,” the forensic artist told herself as she leaned out of her studio and peered down the empty hallway. It looked as though everyone in that part of the office had already gone home for the night. Which was where she should be. Where she would be if she weren’t waiting for a delivery.
She closed her office door and began to pace. It was only about seventy-five miles from Company D in San Antonio to this main Ranger office in Austin, and easy, highway driving almost all the way. What could be keeping that Ranger? She didn’t know Cade Jarvis well, but the few times they had met she’d been favorably impressed.
Paige huffed, disgusted with herself. Impressed? Boy, was that an understatement. If Ranger Jarvis was half as good-looking as she recalled, he’d be attractive enough to curl her toes. He stood nearly six feet tall, with dusky blond hair and mischievous eyes the color of warm mocha java. And when he smiled, the fine lines of an outdoorsman crinkled at the corners of those appealing eyes, though she doubted the man was much over thirty, if that.
She was about to give up on him and head for home when her phone rang. She snatched it up before the second ring. “Hello?”
“Ms. Bryant? This is Cade Jarvis,” the slightly breathless male voice said. “I’m going to be a little late.”
He was already more than a little late but something in his tone gave Paige pause and made her ask, “Are you all right?”
“Boy, news travels fast.”
“I beg your pardon?” It was becoming clear to Paige that this call was not the result of a normal travel delay. “What news? What’s happened?”
“I was run off the road not far from there.”
Her free hand flew to her throat and her eyes widened. “Oh, no! Are you all right?”
“Fine. Actually, I’m in better shape than my truck is. It would have been a lot worse if other drivers hadn’t steered around me after I spun out. As soon as the troopers finish their report, I’ll hitch a ride with one of them and have him drop me at your office.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah. Thankfully, there’s no problem with the remains I’m bringing you, either. I had the skull packed in a padded evidence bag, so it wasn’t damaged by the collision. I figured you’d probably make a composite copy to model the clay over, anyway, but I’d still like to get it to you in one piece.”
“It is a lot easier—and more accurate—if I don’t have to work with an original that starts out looking like a jigsaw puzzle.” Still concerned, Paige paused. “Listen, if you tell me exactly where you are, I’ll be glad to drive over and get you.”
“That won’t be necessary.”
“I don’t mind. It would give me a chance to peek at the evidence, too. I know how important it is to ID that victim ASAP.”
The Ranger’s chuckle struck her as sounding a bit cynical. When he spoke she was certain. “Oh, I get it. It’s not me you’re worried about, it’s these bones.”
“I didn’t mean anything of the kind.” Glad he couldn’t see her blush, Paige realized she was embarrassed by how close he’d come to the truth. “I do care about my job,” she insisted. “A lot. But that doesn’t mean I don’t care about living people, too.”
“Hey, I was just teasing. No offense meant, ma’am.”
Whew. “None taken. So, do you want me to come get you or do you think you’ll be here fairly soon?”
“Hold on a sec.”
While she waited, Paige listened to a hodgepodge of muted conversations in the background. Between the overlap of voices and the humming traffic noise, it was hard to pick out individual words, at least not well enough to tell what was being said.
“Ma’am? You still there?” Cade finally asked.
“Yes. What did you decide?”
“One of the troopers will give me a ride while they haul my truck in so the lab boys can take paint samples from the parts that were sideswiped. I should be at your office within a half hour. Do you mind waiting just a little longer?”
“Not at all. See you soon.”
Hanging up, Paige busied herself tidying her office and trying to catch up on paperwork. Details like that always fell by the wayside when she was concentrating on drawing or sculpting the faces of nameless victims. Victims just like her sister.
Paige purposely tried to redirect her thoughts. There was nothing to be gained by beating herself up over past events. Amy was gone. Had been for sixteen years. The pretty three-year-old would probably never be located, alive or otherwise, and there was no way to change what had happened no matter how much Paige wished otherwise.
She pulled herself together and lifted her chin. “It wasn’t my fault,” she whispered into the silence. “I did my best to help her.”
That was true. And now she reached out to other victims of horrendous crimes and gave them faces. Gave their families closure and a chance at justice. What she did was more than a job. It was her calling.
It was also her atonement.
Cade thanked the trooper for the lift, squared his white cowboy hat on his head and straightened his tie before heading toward the main Ranger headquarters. He smiled when he saw a slim woman in jeans and a denim jacket waiting for him next to the rear entrance. “Ms. Bryant?”
“That’s me. We have met before, you know.” She extended her hand and Cade shook it. “In San Antonio.”
“I do remember you. It’s just kind of dark out here and I wasn’t positive.”
Actually, he’d recalled very little about the Rangers’ only forensic artist other than her being in her mid-twenties and having long, dark hair that she’d kept tightly gathered at the nape of her neck. Add to that the plain, half glasses she’d worn for close work and the woman had been the spitting image of a stern schoolmarm in an old Western movie.
When he saw her this time he immediately changed his mind. Paige Bryant was lovely, with expressive green eyes and long, loosely swinging dark hair that rippled around her shoulders and brushed against her cheeks as she tilted her head.
“I waited out here for you because I figured you didn’t have a key card for this door.”
“You’re right. Thanks.”
“Is that the victim you told me about?” she asked, eyeing the blue, cubelike case.
“Yes.” Sweeping his free arm toward the door he said, “Shall we? It’s cold out here and I know you’re anxious to see what I’ve brought you.”
