Molly’s phone vibrated in her pocket, and she hurried to yank it out, the buzzing sounding nerve-rackingly loud. “Hello?” she whispered.

“Molly?” As happy as she was to hear Sergeant Blake’s voice, Molly cringed at the bad timing of her friend’s call.

“Hey, Sarge. Mind if I call you back? I’m kind of in the middle of something.” She batted at a branch that had caught in her hair, but it stayed firmly stuck until John carefully untangled the strands.

“Yeah, I guessed that, since you’re whispering,” Blake said dryly. “Does the ‘something’ you’re in the middle of involve a certain pair of Denver detectives who don’t know how to stay in their lane?”

“Yep.”

“Is that supersized bounty hunter still following you around like a homeless puppy? Garcia filled me in on the gossip.”

She glanced at John, biting back a laugh. He mouthed what? but she just gave a small shake of her head. “Yes.”

“I don’t know what the two of you did, but those two sure have it out for you. When I stopped by the station just now, I heard them radio in. They’re at your house to pick up you and your hungry puppy.”

She made a face, and John flipped his hand in an impatient motion. Who is it? he mouthed, and she held up her index finger in a one moment gesture. He grumbled but didn’t press her for more information, dividing his attention between her facial expressions and the two detectives talking in low voices next to John’s car.

“Don’t let them pick you up. You need to get your asses to the station and give your statements to one of our friendly local officers, or those two are going to be slapping cuffs on you quicker than you can smack John Carmondy with a rolled-up newspaper.”

“Okay, okay. Enough with the dog jokes. We’ll be there in fifteen.” She reviewed the route in her mind and sighed silently. “Make that twenty. Have the notepads ready.”

“Notepads?” Sergeant Blake scoffed. “Okay, Grandma. We use computers now for that.”

Resisting the urge to say something rude to her good friend who was helping them avoid the Denver detectives, Molly settled for a grunt of farewell and ended the call. As she tucked her phone away, she saw Detective Mill snap his head toward where she and John were standing.

Molly froze.

Even though she knew she and John were well hidden in the shadows of the trees, disguised by the branches of the evergreen, a pulse of anxiety shot through her. The detectives couldn’t find them until after they reached the police station. Even if the detectives didn’t drum up some bogus charges to hold them on, they’d still be detained for hours. Sonny would go to his meeting and then disappear again…along with Molly’s chance of saving her family’s house.

The seconds ticked by agonizingly slowly as Mill’s gaze raked over the trees. Finally, he turned back to his partner, and all the air gushed out of Molly’s lungs. Her relief was short-lived, however, because both detectives started walking toward the trees, their hands going to the butts of their guns.