“Hit-and-run.” Even talking about it brought up all the impotent rage that had fueled her to excel through the police academy. “No witnesses. No cameras in the area.”
Colt frowned. “The driver was never caught?”
“No. Plus, we were eighteen at the time. Not exactly in a position to push the police to do more.”
“And that’s what drove you to pursue a career in law enforcement.”
The empathy in his expression had her throat closing. “Unfortunately, Opal dealt with our parents’ death by checking out and numbing herself with drugs.”
Colt took her hand. “I am sorry for your loss.”
She slipped her hand away because the contact made her feel uncomfortable and comforted at the same time.
She needed to stay grounded. Focus on the here and now. On what she could control. First order of business was finding Opal. “Tell me everything you know about Opal and her supposed death.”
“Don’t you have access to the police file?”
“I do,” she said. “I’ve read it cover to cover. I know what it says. But I want to know what your take on the situation is.”
Colt nodded. “On the night she was presumed to have died, Opal and a companion bought a two-ounce bag of fentanyl-laced opioids off a low-level drug dealer. Four hours later, a witness—” He paused, pulling his eyebrows together. “Vinnie Homer. He reported the drowning.”
Pulse thrumming, Maren leaned forward, reciting the words she’d memorized. “The police report stated Opal had been high and had left her clothing and identification on the riverbank before wading into the Arkansas River. She went under and never came back up. The next morning her necklace was found downstream in a tangle of bushes.” Tears pricked the back of Maren’s eyes. “I gave her that necklace.”
“I’m sure you could reclaim it,” Colt said softly.
Something Maren had thought about over the past three months but had never acted on.
“I want to talk to your informant.” Maren’s breathing accelerated. “Do you think he helped my sister fake her death? And if so, why lead you here? Why fake her death at all?”
“All good questions,” Colt said. “I can arrange for us to meet him.” He picked up a pencil from the desk and sifted through the garbage can. “Maren, you should see this.”
Moving to his side, she gave a little gasp. Deep in the wastebasket was an empty bottle of prenatal vitamins.
Could Opal be pregnant?
Anxiety twisted in her gut. “But we can’t be sure those are hers.”
“One way to find out.” Colt reached into his pants pocket for a clear evidence bag and fished the bottle out of the trash can, then slipped the bottle into the bag. He stuffed the evidence into the pocket of his cargo pants. “I’ll have our lab run fingerprints.”
“Even if her prints are on the bottle, it doesn’t mean more than that she was taking care of herself,” Maren stated.
The sympathetic expression on his face had her turning away. She swallowed the emotions rearing up.
Her sister could very well be having a baby. It made sense now why she had gone to the clinic. The urgency to find Opal intensified.
After searching the motel room for anything that could tell them where Opal would go next and coming up with nothing, they left the motel and hurried back to their respective cars.
As she drove away from the motel, a barrage of bullets pelted her Bronco. The back tire blew with a loud bang and the SUV jolted. Heart hammering hard enough to pound metal, she lost control and swerved into a ditch on the four-lane highway. A blue panel van pulled up alongside her, the door slid open and a masked man jumped out.
Was it the same masked man in black who’d shot up the clinic?
Fearing she was about to die, she dove sideways into the passenger seat. Haven’s frantic, aggressive barks echoed in her ears. Thankfully, she was locked securely in her compartment.
The mask man used the butt of his automatic rifle to break out the window. “You should have stayed dead. No one crosses Shadow and lives.”
Having no time to process his words, she braced for another barrage of bullets, and lifted a prayer asking God to spare her life.
Gunfire rang out.
