Not his call, but someone had to make it. And Miranda was nowhere to be found.
Someone was out to get Clint Gunderson. He wasn’t about to deliver another tool for hurting Clint right into their hands. And he didn’t have a clue how it tied into their current investigation, but he suspected it did.
These types of coincidences just didn’t happen. “Maybe not to the investigation. But…If someone is looking for a way to get even with Clint Gunderson, finding Maggie Tyler and his daughter and his unborn child would be an excellent place for them to start. I am not about to let that happen.”
Green eyes met his. Dr. Compton nodded. “I’ll see if I can rally my creative side.”
“Thanks. I’ll owe you one.”
“I’ll remember that.”
49
It took several hours to process Clint Gunderson’s home. The sheriff of Masterson County had arrived halfway through the process, both of his Deputy Lowells trailing after him. It had caused some confusion at first—until Knight had realized the male and female deputies weren’t married—but were first cousins.
Small towns. Of course.
He observed the proceedings with a poker face.
Joel Masterson’s wife was Maggie Tyler’s cousin, and they were close. But Joel held himself like the professional that he was.
Finally, Knight and Joel were able to extract Clint from the WSP and the DCI and take him back to Masterson. Joel forced Clint to sit, to drink something.
“We need to talk,” Joel said softly when it was just him and Knight and Clint.
“I need to find my daughter. My…Maggie. I need to find Maggie. She’s got to be terrified right now.”
Someone knocked softly on the door. It slid open, and there Miranda was.
A knot of tension that Knight hadn’t been fully aware of loosened. She’d been within a mile of Clint Gunderson’s house today. A part of him had worried that she and Agent Lorcan had been victims of the shooter, too.
Masterson had sent his deputies searching the area around the ranch—but all they’d found had been some fresh gray paint on a nearby guardrail and tire tracks where a larger truck had skidded on the road. That had been it. It had been enough to have Masterson sending a third deputy up the road searching for them. Quietly.
Knight had been trying Miranda’s phone every twenty minutes since.
Miranda went straight to her old buddy Clint and knelt in front of him. “Clint? I want you to look at me. They’ll be ok. I promise.”
“I—I don’t know where they are.”
Miranda smiled so softly that Knight did a double take. The woman was gorgeous when she smiled like that. And up to something.
Dangerous. The woman was dangerous. In more ways than one.
“I do.”
Clint stiffened.
“What the hell, Sunny?” Knight couldn’t help but ask, the nickname slipping out against his will. Miranda shot him a quick look and shook her head lightly. “What do you know?’
“Carrie and I found Maggie and Violet walking on the road from the ranch about fifteen minutes after the attack. After a patrol car almost sent our truck over the cliff on Wreck Curve Road. Carrie is texting the partial plate to Zach Lowell now. Once Maggie informed us what had happened, and that she definitively recognized a WSP patrol car in the drive, we made the decision to remove her from the area for her own safety, after getting her medical attention in a safe place. They are currently on a jet out of the state.” She shot a look at the sheriff. “Her uncle Phil was there, and he’s agreed to go with her.”
“Where are they going?” Clint demanded, hands clenching on the chair arms. No doubt he was resisting the urge to grab Miranda and shake the answer out of her, if necessary. “Randi, where is she? I need to talk to her, to know they are all right. All three of them.”
“Three?” Joel asked.
“Maggie’s pregnant,” Clint said. The poor man still looked shell-shocked. “The baby’s mine.”
Miranda covered his hands with hers. She said his name a few times, until he looked at her. “Clint, we…we decided we’re not releasing her location to anyone for now, except those in this room. Just to be safe. Carrie also accompanied them to their destination—in Finley Creek. They are well-guarded—and away from the WSP and DCI. We thought that was important, as she did state that a WSP patrolman was the one responsible for the shooting; Carrie and I can confirm one was near your home. She just didn’t get a good enough look at him