A vest she’d barely agreed to wear as they’d stopped by the gear room at the sheriff’s department. Her mumbling hadn’t been lost on him, thank you. But then again, she’d always been painfully too willing to barge into danger without a second thought.
He was destined to watch her die. He needed to find Marsand flee town before that happened. Never mind her jaded, apparently accurate words.“Mr. Watch Me Run.”
Yeppers. Brace yourself for the windburn, honey.
He scanned the tree line with each return to the window.
For now, Mars was still out there.
Orlando whined from his spot near Jericho’s feet, the Bernedoodle’s black-and-brown curls matted, his head in his paws, his ears flickering at every sound. The poor dog liked the smells and sounds of the hospital about as much as Jericho did, clearly. His brown eyes darted to every sound—the squeak of a nurse’s sneakers down the hall, the clatter of a tray, the faint hum of a heater rattling in the corner.
Really, the dog hadn’t stopped shaking since they’d loaded Harley into one of the SUVs and brought her here.
“I know, boy,” Jericho said, leaning toward him, his hand running over Orlando’s broad head, the fur warm under his palm. “This is on me. I should have kept you on lead.”
Or maybe said a hardy N-O to the idea of sending a K9 SAR dog after a killer. What had he been thinking?
His phone buzzed in his pocket. Deke.
“Yeah?” Jericho said, his gaze flicking to the double doors leading to the exam rooms.
“The trail behind the camp led to a cabin off Murphy Creek Road,” Deke said. “Found fresh tire tracks—we think he stole a car. He’s on the move.”
Jericho’s jaw tightened. “Any idea where?”
“No. I put a BOLO out, but...”
“Yeah. He’s gone,” Jericho said. “Until he doesn’t want to be.”
“Mm-hmm. Stevie is headed back to Anchorage for now, and Rio is going to work his local informants, but I think it’s a waiting game until we get a lead. Or he makes a move. How’s Harley?”
“Still being checked out.” Jericho’s gaze went back to the double doors, his brain stuck on the image of Harley sprawledin the snow—her blond hair spilling over the icy ground, her golden-brown eyes fluttering shut.
And, still ringing in his ears, his own desperate shouting.
Okay, so he’d been a little panicked.
In truth, it was sort of his MO around her.
“Keep me posted,” Deke said. “She’ll be okay. She’s tough.”
Yeah, that was the problem. “I will.” Jericho pocketed the phone.
He didn’t want to give voice to the idea that Mars’s next move would be in vengeance against Harley. Because he, too, heard the man shout, right before he shot her.“Is that you,Harley Tatum? Ready for round two?”
He’d turned bone cold. Still hadn’t warmed up.
The double doors swung open, and Dr. Ellis stepped out, her white coat crisp, her dark hair pulled into a tight bun, a clipboard in her hand. “Jericho.”
He got up and walked over.
Her steady gaze met his. “Harley’s going to be fine.”
The vise around Jericho’s chest loosened, his breath escaping in a rush. “She’s awake?”
“Yes, and arguing against staying overnight.” The doctor’s mouth made a grim line. He knew Caroline from high school—hockey player, a year older than him, cute and a bit of a flirt. So it felt weird that she now worked in ER. But maybe they’d all grown up a little.
Except for Harley, apparently.