Page 25 of Chilled
“But if it incapacitates you again like it did now, you’re open to whatever the killer wants to do. I need to know these things. Help me here. Trust me.”
“Trust you?” She faced him, tears welling in her eyes. “I don’t even know you!”
“I won’t hurt you.”
“How do I know that? If you were to tell someone on the team about my panic attack, I could be removed from this investigation and possibly from my job.”
“I could remove you from this team, but I won’t. And I’m not telling anyone anything.” He reached out, locking his grip on her wrists. “I promise. But I can’t help if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”
“Sure. You’ve wanted to help me right out the door since day one.” She jerked against his hands, but he didn’t let go. “And I’m supposed to believe you?”
“At least take a chance on me.”
She stopped tugging at her wrists and stared up into his eyes. How could she trust him? She hadn’t trusted anyone except her father and Dr. Drummond. Wrapped up in her picture-perfect marriage, her sister didn’t have time for her. Besides, Alice confided everything to her husband, Stanley, and their mother wasn’t in any condition to guide her.
What did that leave her? An offer to trust a stranger—Nick Tarver—who would be out of her life as soon as they captured the killer. What the hell? She sighed and relaxed her arms.
Nick’s hold loosened on her wrists, but he didn’t let go.
“I haven’t had an attack like that since I was eighteen.” She drew in a deep breath. "Now I have to get outside."
"Okay, but you're not going without me."
"Fine," she yanked the door open and stepped through it without waiting for him.
Nick grabbed his room key and took off after her.
Instead of the elevator, she took the stairs and left the building from a side door.
The streetlights reflected off wet roads and residual snow and bounced off the low-level clouds that had moved in before sunset, giving the city an eerie glow. Without stopping to warm up or stretch, Brenna took off down the road.
Nick lether lead by a couple of car lengths, giving her space while he watched every vehicle coming and going.
What had happened back there in the room?
Something had scared her enough to set her heart racing. The notes and murdered women would be enough to scare anyone, but Brenna wasn't anyone. She’d been a cop at one time, granted, on small town streets, but a cop, nonetheless. She'd witnessed murder scenes and solved several cases in North Dakota. The difference in this case was that she was probably a target, and the murders were happening on her home turf. This guy knew how to hit where it hurt.
Brenna pulled farther away.
Nick picked up his pace to close the distance. He jogged up beside her but didn't talk.
She was in good shape to keep up this pace for so long.
Water splashed up from their shoes, soaking through to his feet. His toes were uncomfortable and cold, and he knew Brenna's were no better. By the time they'd covered two miles, his sweats were drenched up to the knees with cold, nasty water, but he was warm from the exercise and ready to go on.
When they came upon a city park, Brenna slowed until she was walking. She was breathing hard and her face shone with a sheen of perspiration and...was that a trace of tears?
"Mind if we take a break?" he asked, even though he could have gone on for a couple more miles. Nick suspected that whatever she was running to shake loose of had shaken.
Brenna nodded and continued walking, only slowly now. "My father taught me to play baseball in this park."
Nick stared at the field still covered in a layer of half-melted snow and ice. At one end of the park was a backstop; at the other end, boards had been erected for an outdoor skating rink.
"He also taught me how to play hockey, soccer and basketball."
Nick laughed. "Is there anything he didn’t teach you?”
“He didn’t teach me how to lose.”
