Page 86 of Her Remarkable Protector

“In danger? Then you should involve the police!”

“I’m working closely with Bozeman PD. Call Captain Freeman, he’ll be able to give you what you need,” I say, sounding as authoritative as possible, then give one of Freeman’s name cards. The captain doesn’t like me doing that, but this isn’t just an everyday thing. His irritation means nothing to me.

He raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. “You can’t just walk in here and expect me to hand over information. That’s not how this works.”

I lean forward, lowering my voice. “Talk to Captain Freeman. Please.”

He exhales slowly, his eyes narrowing. I can see the wheels turning, the conflict between protocol and something else—maybe decency, maybe exhaustion. Not many people are enthusiastic about talking to a police captain. Finally, he pulls a file from a drawer and flips it open, keeping his hand over most of the contents.

“She was placed with a family in Kalispell,” he says, his tone measured. “The Martins. Small ranch near the west border. That’s all I can give you.”

“Thank you,” I say.

* * *

The Martins are no help.They stare blankly when I mention Honor’s name. “We couldn’t make it work with her,” the man says. His wife doesn’t even glance up from her tablet. Still, at least he gave me a lead on where Honor was transferred next.

The second family—a squat woman with hair pulled so tight it looks painful and a man with an unyielding expression—is worse.

“That kid was nothing but trouble!” the woman barks before I can even finish my sentence. She folds her arms tightly, her lips twisting into a sneer. “What’s she gotten herself into this time? Isn’t she an adult by now? Or is she still playing at being a reckless child?”

I keep my composure despite this unpleasant encounter. “I’m just trying to find her.”

“Good luck with that,” she sneers, her husband remaining silent, content to let her do the talking.

“Do you know where Honor went after she left your family?”

“Still around here, two or three streets down. For a while, I ran into her sometimes.”

“Can you give me a name?”

“No idea. But the house is at the end,” she says. “Really, don’t let that girl waste your time like she did ours!”

I leave before my temper gets the better of me. They’re not worth it, but the weight of Honor’s hardship settles heavily on my chest. How much of this is because of the Circle? Because ofme?

The third family is my last hope. After knocking on doors at the ends of the next three streets, I finally meet Mrs. Tucker-MacPhee. She has a kind face but tired eyes, and she hesitates when I ask about Honor.

“She tried to run away once,” she admits quietly. “We caught her heading for the Canadian border.”

“Canada?” I echo, my pulse spiking. “Do you know who she was going to?”

She shrugs, her expression teetering between guilt and frustration. “I’ve got no clue. Maybe someone convinced her the bears were fatter up there. Who knows?” The weak attempt at humor falls flat when she catches my reaction.

She restarts, “Look, Honor was a fragile kid. Probably wasn’t thinking straight then.”

Fragile? No, they don’t know her. They’ve never seen the Honor I know—smart, determined, unbreakable. God, if only they could see what I see.

I excuse myself and head back to my car, frustration simmering in my chest. Once inside, I dial Ethan.

“Got anything?” I ask, forcing my voice to stay steady.

Ethan’s voice comes through. “Well timed, partner. There have been sightings of Honor near the Flathead County Coroner’s Office. Might be worth checking out.”

“When was this?”

“Yesterday.”

My hands fidget against the steering wheel, tapping in an unsteady rhythm as a small hope stirs within me.

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