Page 108 of Crosshairs

“What are you doing here?”

“My job. What happened here?”

Their words carried on the night air, and Ainsley stepped back into the shadow of her grandmother’s front porch. She was in no shape emotionally to talk to the reporter. The shooting was too fresh.

“Sorry, Sarah, not tonight,” Linc said, his voice firm. “Pete Nelson will probably hold a press conference in the morning.”

“I want to talk to you. And her.”

“Then call tomorrow and set up an appointment,” he said. “Now please, just leave.”

The reporter hesitated, then nodded. “You owe me one.”

“Whatever,” Linc said and waited until she walked to her car and drove away.

“Thanks,” Ainsley said when he reached her. She took a deep breath and released it to quell her shaky insides. Although faint, the marijuana scent lingered in the night air. “Do you smell marijuana?”

He sniffed the air. “Maybe. Can’t tell where it’s coming from though.”

“I know. Probably somebody’s grandkid.” She cocked her head. “What are you doing out here? I was only going across the street.”

“I’m not sure I agree with Nate that the guy you shot is your assailant. I think he was coming after the diary.”

“How would he have known I had it?”

“He could have heard the information on the ten o’clock news.”

The mention of the reporter reminded Ainsley she’d have to deal with her tomorrow. She shoved the thought aside. Tomorrow was soon enough to think about that.

He slipped his hand into hers, his touch like an electrical current. She never remembered her feelings for him being so intense. Which meant if he betrayed her again, it would be worse than before.

“Linc...” she said, pulling her hand away.

“I wish you’d give us a chance,” he said. His voice didn’t reflect disappointment, but when she turned to him, it flickered in his face under the light from overhead.

“I don’t know—”

Gran’s front door jerked open, and Ainsley jumped. “Are you two going to stand out there all night, or are you coming in and telling me what’s going on?”

“We’re coming in, but first let me text Nate and Pete.”

While they waited for the two law officers to walk across the street, Ainsley filled her grandmother in on what had happened. “They want to talk to you about the guy.”

“Who is he?”

“Ronald McClain.”

Gran gaped at her. “Sonny? He shot at you?”

“I’m afraid so,” Linc said.

“Did you...”—Gran bit her bottom lip—“shoot him?”

“Yes.” Her voice cracked. “I don’t know if he’ll make it.”

Her grandmother sank onto the floral sofa. “I can’t believe Sonny? ... You’re sure it’s him?”

“Both Pete and Nate ID’d him. How well do you and Cora know him?” she asked as the sheriff and chief came through the door.

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