LITMIR.BIZ

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He returned to the master bedroom at the far end of the hall and flicked on the light.

      “There are blankets and pillows in here. They’re ripped, but they’re here.”

      He crossed to the room she’d indicated and studied the scene.

      “Good observation, Kyra. We should have noticed that.”

      He pinched the bridge of his nose as if he had a headache. She’d tried hard not to notice how attractive he was despite the lines that bracketed his mouth and eyes. Sure, he needed a shave. And what appeared to be a recent haircut couldn’t tame his dark, unruly hair. But he carried himself with an aura of command that was very appealing. His mannerisms said he was sure of his place in the universe. His expression was stern, but those tired gray eyes held empathy and genuine concern.

      “Someone could have used the blankets to wrap the children in to carry them away.”

      He was thinking out loud, but she shook her head.

      “Kip’s still nearby, and why take the pillows?” She thought for a moment. “It’s getting cold out there, but it’s been fairly warm in Boston until now. Is there a tree house in the neighborhood?”

      “I’m glad one of us is still thinking. Todd!”

      The other detective bounded up the stairs. The search for a tree house or a shed was put in motion.

      Kyra was in the living room moving cushions aside when Detective O’Shay returned to her.

      “What are you doing?”

      “Looking for her purse.”

      “We didn’t find one.” He held up his hand before she could speak again. “We looked.”

      “Doesn’t that strike you as odd? If someone took her, wouldn’t you expect her purse to still be here?” She gave him a flat stare. “I don’t see someone saying ‘get your purse, we’re kidnapping you.’”

      “We don’t know she was kidnapped, Kyra.”

      “No. We don’t.”

      “Ms. Wolfstead—”

      “Stick with Kyra, Detective. It’s late and I’m too tired for formality.”

      The lines around his mouth deepened, but she couldn’t tell if it was from amusement or annoyance.

      “It is late. Where are you planning to stay tonight?”

      “Right here.”

      This time there was no question. He was annoyed. “That’s out of the question.”

      “Why?”

      “This is a crime scene.”

      “One you’ve already processed,” she reminded him.

      His hand swept the room indicating the mess. “You can’t stay here.”

      “Can and am.” She set her jaw, taking what her colleagues called her fighting stance. “If Casey or the children are nearby, this is where they’ll come. I’m not leaving.”

      His eyes narrowed. He didn’t glance at his partner when the other man strolled over to them. His focus was entirely on her.

      “I can make that an order.”

      Kyra raised her chin. “That would be petty. You’ve searched this place from top to bottom. I’m staying.”

      “There’s nowhere for you to sleep.”

      She reached up to toss back her long hair, remembered she’d had it cut and restyled on Saturday and brushed some hair back from her face instead. “Your concern is touching. Do you really think I’m going to sleep tonight, Detective?”

      “We kicked in the front door,” he pointed out. “And the back window is broken.”

      “You can board up the window and I can prop the front door closed with a chair if the lock is broken.”

      His thunderous expression told her what he thought of that.

      “Be reasonable, Detective. Someone’s already torn the place apart. Do you really think they’re going to come back tonight?”

      “That isn’t the point.”

      She narrowed her eyes. “Then what is the point? This is my sister’s home. I’m not leaving.”

      He muttered something under his breath. His partner looked away, lips curving.

      “Ms. Wolfstead, I don’t have the manpower to station someone here to protect you.”

      “Protect me from what? If they didn’t get what they came for, they know it isn’t here. If they did get it, they aren’t coming back. I’ll be perfectly safe.”

      He muttered something else under his breath. “No, and that’s final.”

      “Very well. I’ll spend the night in my car out front.”

      The other detective snorted. Lucan gave him a look that sent him moving away.

      “Look, Detective, you’ve taken photos, dusted for prints and searched the house. Let me stay and at least see if I can clean some of this mess.”

      “It’s late.”

      “And getting later,” she agreed. “Go home, Detective. Get some sleep. One of us should.”

      He closed his eyes, opened them again and lowered his voice. “There’s still the matter of an illegal weapon.”

      Kyra’s stomach did a quick flip and roll, but she refused to back down. She held his gaze and projected a false calm. “Are you going to charge me?”

      “I should.”

      She read victory in his words and released a breath she hadn’t known she was holding.

      “You aren’t going to be reasonable about this, are you?” he growled.

      “I’m always reasonable.”

      He cocked his head in patent disbelief.

      She held up her hand. “I’m also very determined. This is my family, Detective. I have to be here. While I appreciate your help, go home. There’s nothing more you can do here tonight.”

      His displeasure was obvious. He tried staring her down, but she’d faced too many other dominant males in her chosen career to be intimidated by looks or words. She wasn’t leaving until she found her sister.

      He swore softly. Everyone else in the room was studiously looking the other way. She had no doubt they were listening intently so she was surprised when, with a quick glance around, the detective withdrew her gun from his waistband and handed it to her.

      “I never saw this,” he told her gruffly in a voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t ever want to see it. Are we clear?”

      “Perfectly.” She thrust it into her purse, deciding now wasn’t the time to demand the bullets as well. Was he really worried about her safety? Detective O’Shay was a hard man to read.

      He handed her the canister of pepper spray, then withdrew a business card and scrawled a number across the back before handing her the card.

      “My cell phone number. I live one block over. If anything happens or if you find anything or even think of anything I should know, call me. I can be here in minutes.”

      Kyra took the proffered card, feeling inexplicably soothed. Good-looking and caring was a nice combination in a man. Lucan. His first name was Lucan.

      “Come on,” he continued. “I’ll give you a hand in the kitchen.”

      Startled, she tried not to gape. “That isn’t necessary.”

      “Yes ma’am, it is. My mother would flay me with dark looks

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