The EMT finished taping gauze over Blue's wound. He'd recommended stitches, but she wasn't interested in going to the hospital. She had to find Shana. Colt leaned against the ambulance's bumper, the department-issued felt cowboy hat in his hands. His light brown hair had a hat ring pressed into thick strands. Concern filled his green eyes as he studied the bloodied shirt she was buttoning closed. "We got the warrant." He flashed a grin. "You ready there, princess?"
Blue had known Colt practically her whole life, and she took his ribbing as it was meant—relief that she was okay. "You betcha, buttercup."
Colt helped her down, and they headed toward his cruiser. "You think she's alive?" he asked.
"No," said Blue. "I think we're gonna find her body."
"Have some hope, Blue," said Laura as she opened the back-passenger door of the cruiser and slid inside with her EMT duffel. "That girl is made of steel."
