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Deputy Green scratched his chin. “That’s some story.”

“It’s the truth!” Nina’s temper flashed. “Why would we make something like this up?”

“We’re not saying that,” Deputy Sewell drawled. “But other than the bullet-riddled SUV I don’t know that you have any corroborating evidence.”

“We are two very credible witnesses,” Jackson countered. “And let’s not forget the dead man inside.”

Green grimaced and nodded at Sewell. “He’s got a point. Let’s check it out. Crime scene techs should be here soon.”

Nina stayed where she was as the two deputies walked into the cabin. Then she grabbed Jackson’s arm. “I want to get out of here. These guys are making me mad.”

He covered her hand with his, the warmth of his fingers giving her a strange jolt. “Don’t worry. They’ll do their part. Besides, it’s only a matter of time before the Rangers take over the investigation.”

“I hope you’re right.” She wasn’t mollified. “How long before we can leave?”

Jackson shrugged. “I don’t know. We can’t use your car until it’s examined by a mechanic. We’ll need a ride out of here.”

Nina thought Jackson was being overly cautious about her car. As far as she could tell, there hadn’t been time for the gunmen to do anything to her vehicle. Not that she drove it very often, preferring to use public transport to get around Austin.

“Why don’t we at least try to start it?” She frowned. “We need a vehicle. I have a motel room in Tyler. It’s not that far to drive there, walking would take over an hour.”

Before Jackson could respond, the two deputies emerged from the cabin, both looking grim. Green approached her. “Can you verify that man is your Uncle Mark Lange?”

The question stopped her cold. Up to that moment she’d assumed the older man was her uncle as identified via their DNA connection. Yet the truth was that she hadn’t gotten a close look at his face because of the gunshot wound. And her aversion to blood and gore. “I—no, I guess I can’t. Except that he gave me this address and we arranged to meet tonight. I found him via a DNA connection. If you test the dead man’s blood it should be a match to what’s in the database.”

“That’s what I thought.” Green sighed. “We’ll get the crime scene techs to run his prints. Maybe he’s in the system. The DNA match will take time.”

“You should look for his phone.” Nina glanced from Green to Sewell. “My uncle and I had two brief phone conversations, but when I called earlier to let him know I was running late, he didn’t answer. I was worried at first, until I approached the cabin and saw that the light was on.”

“Wait, the light was on when you drove up?” Jackson asked.

She flushed, having forgotten to include that detail. It was very different being on this end of an investigation. “Yes, but when the gunman approached, I shut it off.”

“I didn’t see a phone in there,” Sewell said, his shiny brow furrowed.

“I didn’t either, but maybe it’s in his pocket. Could be he didn’t answer because he was already dead.” Green shrugged. “We’ll need to wait for the ME to get here before we search the body. Hopefully he has an ID in his wallet, too.”

“I didn’t find a driver’s license on file.” Nina glanced at Jackson. “At least, not associated with this address.”

“That’s strange,” Green said. “Most people have an ID.”

Nina thought about the photograph she’d found tucked under her uncle’s thigh. Technically, the photo was evidence and should be handed over to the deputies. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to pull it from her pocket. After twenty-eight years she finally had a picture of her mother. Or at least, the woman she believed was her mother. If she handed it to the deputies now, she knew it could be months before she got it back.

Anna. Her uncle’s last name was Lange, so it was logical to assume her mother’s name was Anna Lange. The first clue as to her mother’s real identity.

The woman who’d crawled to a fire station with a gunshot wound was no longer a Jane Doe with baby girl Doe. She was Anna Lange.

Nina’s throat swelled with emotion. Maybe it was wrong, but she wasn’t about to hand over the picture to the deputies just yet.

Now that her uncle was gone, the photograph was the only link she had to her past.

* * *

Jackson eyed Nina curiously, wondering if there were additional things she’d failed to mention. Not that forgetting to explain about how the light was on when she arrived was a critical detail, but when it came to crime scenes, everything mattered.

And he was curious about this man who didn’t have a driver’s license associated with his current address. That was odd, too.

“Can we please go?” Nina asked.