going to lose control and come careening toward us.”
“Right,” she laughed. “Because that’s what sailboats do; they careen.”
“Hey, you don’t know. It could happen.”
“I’m sure. Just because it’s never happened doesn’t mean it won’t, right?”
“Exactly.”
They walked awhile in silence, not because Brett didn’t have anything to say but because every time her thumb slid across his, so slow and soft, he had to remind himself how to breathe.
Clearing his throat, he tried to crush down some of the storm brewing in his gut.
“So we need to give some thought to what’ll happen with you after I leave. Hudak said she had some leads she was going to follow up on tonight, but if those don’t pan out, we need to have a plan.”
“What does Sergeant Schilling say?”
“Not much. He was really hoping this plan would work, that it’d either send Kurt packing or drive him so crazy that he’d make a big move and then we’d get him.”
When Ellie looked up at him, he tried to backtrack a little.
“I don’t mean Sarge wanted Kurt to do anything to you—just that he was hoping that with Hudak and me double-teaming you, we’d flush Kurt out faster. Instead, the little shit’s weaseled in deeper.”
“So what does that mean? He can’t spend the rest of his life like this.”
“Screw him,” Brett barked. “You can’t spend the rest of your life like this. He’s getting cocky with all the emails, so it can’t be much longer before he does something stupid and slips up.”
She nodded a little, though it couldn’t have been anything more than a knee-jerk reaction, because her eyes got wider and she tightened her grip on his hand.
“We’re going to get him, Ell.”
“I know.” She pushed her glasses up a little, then tipped her face up to his, her bare skin glowing under the light of the moon. “I just hope you get him before he gets to the doing something stupid part. The restraining order’s good to have, but it’s not going to be very useful if he shows up at my door. I could probably give him a couple good deep paper cuts with it, though, so I guess that’s something.”
“That’s not funny.”
“Yeah,” she murmured. “I know. But don’t you worry, Ponch, I’m taking all the necessary precautions, and I’m not going to do anything stupid. I was actually thinking of getting a dog. How about that?”
“No.”
“What? Why?”
“Because you said ‘dog’ like you were picturing a Chihuahua or something.”
“No, not a Chihuahua. A wiener dog—one of those short-haired ones—and I’d name him Chili and get him one of those jacket things that look like a bun.” When Brett didn’t respond, she nudged his elbow with hers and laughed. “Get it? He’d be a chili dog.”
“I got it.” There wasn’t anything funny about this. “If you’re going to get a dog, get a real dog. A lab or shepherd. Shit, get a rottweiler—that’ll keep people away from your house. Don’t waste your money on a goddamn rat.”
“Why are you getting mad about this?”
“I’m not!” And he didn’t give a shit that by barking that out, he’d just contradicted himself. “It doesn’t matter what you get if it’s not trained properly.”
“If it’s not—” She stopped walking for a second, tugging him to a stop, too, then nodded, her eyes round. “Oh, okay, I get it.”
“Get what?”
“The yelling thing. Carter explained it to me this morning.” On the move again, she lifted her free hand, palm out. “Whatever happens with Kurt, you have to know you’ve done everything you can—you’ve actually done more than you should have—so if you’ve got any of that caveman crap going on inside that head of yours, just forget it.”
Uh-huh. Like he could ever forget the way she’d looked that night, shivering on her porch next to Maya. Like he could ever forget that that son of a bitch had not only been in her house, he’d been in her bedroom, he’d been through her closet and her drawers. Like he could ever forget—
Wait. Caveman crap?
“What did Carter tell you?”
“About the yelling. You know, how if you can’t kick someone’s ass or rip someone’s head off, that you yell so you don’t feel so useless.”
“I don’t feel—”
“His word, not mine. And if that’s not it, then what? Why are you yelling at me about this?”
“I’m not…yelling.” Even he knew how stupid he sounded forcing each word out like that. So stupid, in fact, that he couldn’t do anything but offer a guilty half-grin. “Carter’s an idiot.”