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“That proves it,” Brody stated. “There’s no way a man who could hit Officer Green long distance would miss my tire or gas tank, enough to disable us.”

“There is more than one person chasing us. I saw the car. The one that was stolen. He shot the man dead in the center of the forehead.” She noted, her voice shaking. “That seemed like a lot of skill.”

“Close range. But he can’t hit a moving target. Different skill set. Definitely more than one person.” He pounded his hand on the steering wheel. “I didn’t see him pull in.”

“He was on the other side of the building.”

She thought escaping one villain would prove to be a challenge. But knowing there were more, she sagged against her seat.

She had a niece she wanted to meet. And a grandmother. Would she get the chance?

“He knew we had to stop.” She muttered to herself.

“Yes.” Brody answered. “My guess is that since there are more than one, and they know we’re heading west, they both took a route and tried to guess where we had to stop. I’m sure he’ll phone his partner and tell him we’re on this route. So we’ll have to shift gears, again.”

How long would it be before they were found again?

There were at least two men hunting Jenna now, and that meant someone was paying money for her demise.

At least one of them possessed some sniper training. Maybe former military. The other, while he had no trouble with close range killings, didn’t have the ability to hit moving targets with precision, or those farther away.

The acid in his stomach churned. This felt like an organized operation.

Brody kept both hands on the wheel and his eyes on the road.

The back roads unwound beneath the headlights. White drifted across the pavement, disguising potholes and bumps. The darkness pressing in from both sides. Every few minutes, the wind blew the snow into a flurry, causing a white out. He’d slow the vehicle, his hands white-knuckled, praying they didn’t go off the road that he could no longer see in front of him. Then the wind would die down and visibility would return as if it had been teasing him.

Jenna sat rigid in the passenger seat, one hand braced against the door, the other curled around the seat belt strap. She hadn’t said much since the gas station.

Neither had he.

His body was running on fumes. He blinked rapidly to clear the grittiness from them. The rest his body required wasn’t happening anytime soon. Brody checked the mirrors.

Nothing.

Headlights appeared in the distance, heading toward them. He tensed. Beside him, Jenna sat forward, her hand still wrapped around the belt. “Do we have any idea what the other shooter might be driving?”

“Not a clue.” The words were bitter in his mouth. He was a PI. But he didn’t have many details on this case. He felt like they were running blind into a minefield.

The shooter at the gas station wasn’t very patient. He’d run after them and fired off two wild shots. So he, at least, wasn’t a professional. But the other guy, the one at the house, his actions seemed more disciplined and planned.

But both of the men, and whoever was funding them, wanted Jenna dead.

Brody’s jaw tightened. This felt personal to him.

He glanced at Jenna. She was staring out the window, her face pale in the dim illumination of the console lights.

His mind returned to Andrea Brewer and her deceased child. Jenna seemed to think they were a link they needed to explore. He tended to agree. Although Andrea hadn’t been connected at first glance to the Ellis family, the more he considered, the more certain he became that Jenna had been right and that someone inside, or someone else connected with the family, had been linked to her. She didn’t kidnap Jenna arbitrarily.

Nor had she been picked lightly.

He had to find the link.

People didn’t go to this much trouble unless there was something worth protecting—or something worth taking. The most obvious motive was, as it usually turned out, either money or passion. Since both Jenna’s parents had died together, and there had been no hint of scandal or unfaithfulness for either of them, his inclination was to follow the money trail.

Most specifically, the estate and inheritance money set aside for Jenna’s return. The trust fund that had never been touched and had steadily grown for more than two decades.

Jenna, who’d once been Jordyn Ellis, would be a very wealthy woman, if she lived to claim her inheritance. His jaw ached. He opened his mouth and worked his jaw back and forth to loosen the tight muscles.