Page 109 of Swept for Forever
Boone rubbed his jaw. This was the moment.
He might not have liked being pushed, but he was listening.
“You don’t have anything to worry about,” Boone finally said. His voice eased slightly as he turned to Autumn. “Miss Jones, did you have a weapon on you that day?”
“No. Never. I’ve never even held a gun.”
He sat back, his expression shifting to something almost wry.
“Then that sketch won’t hold. Robbery at gunpoint means there needs to be a gun. If you didn’t have one, they’ve got nothing.”
Then, just for a second, I caught it. The smallest flicker of amusement. Boone shook his head with a low chuckle.
“White Lightning Whitaker,” he muttered. “Kid thinks fast, but sometimes he moves too damn quick for his own good. I’ll talk to him.”
That’s all I needed. The Old Hound was on our side.
He pushed to his feet. “Let’s get that composite started.”
We sat in front of a monitor while the deputy pulled up the composite software. There was no sketch artist, just a program that let Autumn mix and match facial features until something clicked. She described everything she remembered—the sharp cut of his jaw, the close-set eyes, the tension in his mouth when he spotted her.
Piece by piece, the face came together, pulled from digital menus.
Autumn sat back, staring at it. “That…” she said, “that kinda looks like him.”
I recognized that face too.
“Lulu barked at a man back in Buffaloberry Hill. He had a cap, sunglasses, and that same stiff neck. I know it’s not enough for a positive ID. But I can tell you, he’s around,” I said to Boone.
He studied the sketch, his stare turning clinical as if dissecting it feature by feature.
“I’ll start distributing it,” he finally said. “With any luck, someone recognizes him.” He slid his gaze to me. “And in the meantime, keep her safe, Dom.”
“I intend to.”
I kept my arm around Autumn as we stepped outside. She felt smaller against me, her body still holding tension, but she wasn’t rattled.
“How are you feeling?” I asked.
“Better. Marginally. It’s good to get it off my chest. And it’sgood to experience firsthand what it’s like to be defended by you.”
I smirked. “It’s my specialty.”
“But not just defending people either. Case in point, Lulu, when Ms. O’Donnell was ready to throw us both out of that motel.”
I huffed a small laugh. Hard to believe that was even real.
“So, what now?” she asked.
“I’m taking you to my place.”
Her head tilted slightly. “Your place? That riverside house?”
“Still mine. Though I’ll admit, I haven’t gotten around to painting it moss green, and the furnishings are a little…intentional. But it’s livable, if you don’t mind sharing a bed with me.”
Her lips curved. “I’d love that.”
“After what Boone put you through, I figured ‘want to share a bed?’ might be the one to trip you up. Guess not.”
