the wedding, but only after she promised to be back for the Saturday dinner crowd. She had promised to be there by six.
She couldn’t find her sisters, but she saw her parents talking to some friends near the church steps. She waved to them as she made her way through the crowd.
Finn had walked down to the parking lot to get away from the noise. He was listening to phone messages and turned just as Peyton was approaching. He offered to walk her to her car.
“How come you aren’t coming to the reception?” he asked.
“I have to work,” she answered. She dug the keys out of her little clutch and hit the unlock button. Standing beside her car, she said, “It really was good to see you.”
“I’m sorry we didn’t get to—” He stopped. “When did you get this car?” he asked, staring past her and frowning.
“About a year ago. Why?”
Finn moved closer and squatted down behind the rear bumper. “These are bullet holes.”
“Yes, they are,” she agreed. She didn’t seem the least fazed. “I’ve got to get going or I’ll be late for work.”
He wasn’t about to let her leave. “They haven’t been here long.”
“The bullet holes?”
“Yes, the bullet holes,” he said.
“It happened a while ago.” Peyton wasn’t going to explain the Dalton nightmare now. It would take hours. She remembered how shocked she’d been when she first noticed the holes below her bumper. If she hadn’t dropped her keys behind the car, she probably never would have seen them, and when she realized they were from bullets, she nearly had heart failure.
“Look at the paint around the holes. It wasn’t that long ago. Do you know when it happened? You do, don’t you? Did you park it and when you came back . . . you weren’t in the car, were you? One of the holes is damned close to the gas tank. Tell me you weren’t in the car.”
He was asking questions so rapidly he wasn’t giving her time to answer.
“Yes, I was in the car. I was on the highway when it happened. He wanted me to stop. I didn’t know he shot at me until I was back in Texas. The holes are so low, I didn’t see them until a few days later. In fact, you’re the only other person who’s noticed them.”
“You couldn’t hear gunshots?” His voice was brisk, no nonsense. He was all FBI now.
Her hand went to her hip. “I was in the middle of a blizzard at the time. All I could hear was the howling wind.”
“Where exactly were you?”
“Northwest of Minneapolis. Finn, I’ve got to leave.”
She wasn’t going anywhere until she gave him a few more details.
“Who did you report it to?”
Peyton knew he wasn’t going to like her answer. “I didn’t report it.”
“Because you didn’t realize he was shooting at you.”
“Exactly.”
“But when you did see the bullet holes—”
She cut him off. “I didn’t report it.”
“Why the hell not?” Frustration made his voice sharp. “He could be out there now trolling for his next victim, and maybe this time he’ll hit the gas tank or, worse, the driver.”
She shook her head. “No, he won’t.”
“Did you get the make or model?”
“I have to leave.”
“No, you have to answer me.”
“You know what, Finn. You’re just as bossy and stubborn as you were when I was a little girl.”
“And you’re just as aggravating. Now answer me.”
She gave in. “It was a big white truck, and I know for a fact that he isn’t out on the highway looking for other victims.”
Unless someone gets on Drew Albertson’s bad side
, she silently added
.
She took a step closer. “And I’m not a victim. I took control of the situation and forced him to stop chasing me.”
“How?” he asked, trying to concentrate on what she was saying and not how sexy she was or how good she smelled.
“I sent him into a field. Actually, I sent him through a fence into a field.”
“How did you do that?”
“Some . . . intricate driving moves.” Slamming on the brakes and going
She couldn’t find her sisters, but she saw her parents talking to some friends near the church steps. She waved to them as she made her way through the crowd.
Finn had walked down to the parking lot to get away from the noise. He was listening to phone messages and turned just as Peyton was approaching. He offered to walk her to her car.
“How come you aren’t coming to the reception?” he asked.
“I have to work,” she answered. She dug the keys out of her little clutch and hit the unlock button. Standing beside her car, she said, “It really was good to see you.”
“I’m sorry we didn’t get to—” He stopped. “When did you get this car?” he asked, staring past her and frowning.
“About a year ago. Why?”
Finn moved closer and squatted down behind the rear bumper. “These are bullet holes.”
“Yes, they are,” she agreed. She didn’t seem the least fazed. “I’ve got to get going or I’ll be late for work.”
He wasn’t about to let her leave. “They haven’t been here long.”
“The bullet holes?”
“Yes, the bullet holes,” he said.
“It happened a while ago.” Peyton wasn’t going to explain the Dalton nightmare now. It would take hours. She remembered how shocked she’d been when she first noticed the holes below her bumper. If she hadn’t dropped her keys behind the car, she probably never would have seen them, and when she realized they were from bullets, she nearly had heart failure.
“Look at the paint around the holes. It wasn’t that long ago. Do you know when it happened? You do, don’t you? Did you park it and when you came back . . . you weren’t in the car, were you? One of the holes is damned close to the gas tank. Tell me you weren’t in the car.”
He was asking questions so rapidly he wasn’t giving her time to answer.
“Yes, I was in the car. I was on the highway when it happened. He wanted me to stop. I didn’t know he shot at me until I was back in Texas. The holes are so low, I didn’t see them until a few days later. In fact, you’re the only other person who’s noticed them.”
“You couldn’t hear gunshots?” His voice was brisk, no nonsense. He was all FBI now.
Her hand went to her hip. “I was in the middle of a blizzard at the time. All I could hear was the howling wind.”
“Where exactly were you?”
“Northwest of Minneapolis. Finn, I’ve got to leave.”
She wasn’t going anywhere until she gave him a few more details.
“Who did you report it to?”
Peyton knew he wasn’t going to like her answer. “I didn’t report it.”
“Because you didn’t realize he was shooting at you.”
“Exactly.”
“But when you did see the bullet holes—”
She cut him off. “I didn’t report it.”
“Why the hell not?” Frustration made his voice sharp. “He could be out there now trolling for his next victim, and maybe this time he’ll hit the gas tank or, worse, the driver.”
She shook her head. “No, he won’t.”
“Did you get the make or model?”
“I have to leave.”
“No, you have to answer me.”
“You know what, Finn. You’re just as bossy and stubborn as you were when I was a little girl.”
“And you’re just as aggravating. Now answer me.”
She gave in. “It was a big white truck, and I know for a fact that he isn’t out on the highway looking for other victims.”
Unless someone gets on Drew Albertson’s bad side
, she silently added
.
She took a step closer. “And I’m not a victim. I took control of the situation and forced him to stop chasing me.”
“How?” he asked, trying to concentrate on what she was saying and not how sexy she was or how good she smelled.
“I sent him into a field. Actually, I sent him through a fence into a field.”
“How did you do that?”
“Some . . . intricate driving moves.” Slamming on the brakes and going
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