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It’s the only thing that makes sense.
For six months, she’d lived with the fear that Billy Crawford would eventually come for her again. She’d changed her routines, installed extra locks, and turned her apartment into something resembling a spotless fortress.
Then Blake had brought her here, to Washington. The place where her worst nightmares had first begun. But in an ironic twist of fate, when she’d come back here with Blake, Devon felt safe for the first time in months.
Now someone had tried to run her down in broad daylight. And if it wasn’t Billy, there was only one other reason that made sense.
“What about Carol Jenkins?” Devon looked at the experienced detective. “Has there been any more development in her case?”
“St. Louis PD is still treating it as a random hit-and-run. And unless we find evidence suggesting otherwise, that’s where their investigation is going to stay focused.”
“It wasn’t random, Detective Boone.”
His eyes met hers. “I believe you. Which is why I have people looking into the financial discrepancies you’ve been investigating.”
“And in the meantime?” she asked next.
“You stay somewhere secure, avoid unnecessary risks, and let us do our jobs.”
She gave him a pointed look. “Carol wasn’t just my client. We weren’t exactly friends, but she was . . .” Her throat worked a hard swallow. “She was a sweet, kindhearted woman who was just trying to do her job. And she didn’t deserve what happened to her.”
“No.” Boone shook his head slowly. “She didn’t. And I’m not suggesting you stop looking from your end.” He looked to Blake. “Probably wouldn’t do any good if I did.”
“Probably not.”
Devon fought the urge to smile at Blake’s blunt response.
Detective Boone smirked. “I figured as much.” He drew a deep breath and got back down to business. “I’ll coordinate with Emmett. If my team finds anything useful, I’ll call.”
“Appreciate it.” Blake shook the man’s hand.
Lincoln started for the door but turned back her way. “One more thing, Devon. I’ve heard enough about you from Janie to know you’re a fighter. Which is great but try to remember”—his knowing gaze slid Blake’s way then back to her—“you’re not fighting this one alone.”
The unexpected words made her throat tighten.
“Thank you, Detective.”
“Call me Lincoln. Or Linc.” His broad shoulders shrugged. “And for what it’s worth, I’m glad Savage is looking out for you.”
Her gaze slid to Blake’s. “Me, too.”
“Get some rest.” Lincoln opened the door. “I’ll be in touch.”
The room grew quiet once he was gone.
Devon shifted herself against the stark white bedding, wincing when she moved her head a bit too quickly.
Blake’s expression immediately changed. “What’s wrong?”
“Headache.”
He handed her the water from the bedside table. “Drink this.”
She accepted the offered cup. “Bossy, much?”
“Not bossy. Caring. There’s a difference.”
Taking a sip, she lowered the cup and met his gaze once more. “I’m sorry.”
