Blaine leaned over the steering wheel and gazed up at the house they’d been called to check out. There’d been a report of a possible break-in. An elderly neighbor had heard the sound of smashing glass.

Ollie spoke into the radio. “126 to dispatch, we’ve arrived at the house. Checking it out now.”

“10-4, unit 126.”

Hanging up the radio, Ollie looked at Blaine. “What are you thinking?”

“That the house seems pretty quiet. No signs of forced entry from the front.”

“Makes sense the intruder would go in from the back. I’ll take the right, you take the left?”

Blaine nodded and they got out of the car. He pocketed the keys, then hitched his belt and walked around the side of the house.

Unlatching the side gate, he eased across the snow-covered lawn, careful of his footing as he came around the house. He couldn’t see any signs of disruption, so he only rested his hand on his gun holster, unwilling to draw it unless absolutely necessary.

“Looks clear on this side,” Ollie voice crackled through the radio. “I’ll meet you around the back.”

“Got it,” Blaine replied, his eyes narrowing when he noticed footprints in the snow. It probably wasn’t too weird. The owner of the house kept the trash cans along the fence line, so it made sense that there’d be prints in the yard, but…

Blaine’s thoughts were cut off as a figure in black bolted past him.

“Police! Stop!”

The perp ignored him, tearing to the corner of the property and scrambling over the fence.

“We’ve got a runner,” Blaine clipped into his radio. “I’m in pursuit.” He bolted for the fence just as Ollie came around the corner. “He went that way!”

“I’ll cut him off down the street.”

Ollie took off for the front as Blaine vaulted the fence, picking up his pace when he noticed the intruder scrambling into another yard.

Pumping his arms, he kept up the chase, hoping to gain some ground and tackle the intruder before they could get too far away.

The kid was thin and gangly, his legs kind of flailing as he ran. The backpack he was carrying thumped as if there was a weight in it. Probably whatever he’d stolen from the house.

“Stop running, kid!” he shouted. “It’s not worth it!”

The perp stumbled in the snow, but quickly righted himself and kept going.

Blaine internally groaned. Why’d they have to run?

Veering right, the perp changed course and slammed through a back gate, which led into an alleyway between streets. His desperate run was gaining momentum, and Blaine had to pick it up another notch in order not to lose sight of the guy.

“Perp’s now heading northeast. He’ll probably pop out on Berry Lane,” Blaine puffed into the radio.

“Got it. Changing course,” Ollie replied.

Veering left, the perp shot into a narrow walkway between two houses, then took a sharp right into another backyard.

Shit! The kid just wouldn’t let up.

Trash cans tumbled to the side, creating an obstacle that Blaine had to leap over. He landed with a thud in the snow but maintained pursuit.

Although he was fit, his lungs ached from the icy air, and his eyes and nose were stinging from the brutal assault of the wind.

But it meant the perp was probably running out of steam too.

Turning onto the property, he ran across the yard and jumped the fence just in time to see his runner bolting down the length of the house.

He charged after him and nearly laughed with relief when he found the kid struggling to scramble over the high fence.

Grabbing his shoulder, he pulled the thief down. His backpack slipped off his shoulder as he thumped into the snow.

“Police, you’re under arrest.”

The perp struggled against him, thrashing his arms as Blaine pushed him onto his stomach.

“No, please, you don’t understand!”

He frowned as he reached for his cuffs, surprised it was a girl. He thought he’d been chasing a guy. He shouldn’t have assumed, but her hair was tucked up beneath a beanie.

He’d pull it off once she was cuffed. “You have the right to remain silent.”

“No!” she screamed and bucked before he could get the cuffs around her wrist. “You have to let me go!”

Her intense thrashing was another surprise and he nearly lost his balance. Grabbing her shoulder, he was about to push her back down to the snow when he caught a proper look at her face.

It froze him and she took advantage, scrambling out from his grasp and up to her feet.

Rosie?

It couldn’t be her.

Her expression bunched with guilt as she stumbled against the house.

“No.” Blaine shook his head. “What are you doing?”

“I can’t explain right now.” She reached down for her bag, curling her arms around it like it was somehow going to save her.

Blaine pointed at it, still in shock. “Whatever’s in there doesn’t belong to you.”

“I need it. I swear I wouldn’t take it if I didn’t need it. Please. Please. You have to let me go.”

He blinked, trying to wrap his brain around what the hell he was seeing.

It was Rosie.

Rosie Sweet.

The girl he’d always loved.

And now he was supposed to arrest her for breaking and entering.

For robbery!

He gaped at her, dumbfounded, as he tried to figure out what to do.

Rosie’s expression buckled, her eyes filling with tears. “Please let me go. You have to let me go.”

She was terrified. He could tell by the erratic white puffs coming from her mouth. Her entire body was shaking as she silently begged him.

Shit!

It was Rosie. She wasn’t a criminal. How the hell was he supposed to arrest her?

But he had to.

He didn’t want to do it, but what choice did he have? She’d broken the law—in a really big way—and he couldn’t just let her go.

“It’s going to be alright, but you have to come with me.” He stepped toward her, but she reacted like a wildcat, lashing out with a desperate yell and punching his face. He stumbled to the side, surprise catching him off guard before he could find his footing. Rearing back around, he made a grab for her, but she kicked his leg and he slipped in the snow, landing with a hard crash against the house.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered before bolting away from him.

Pain radiated through his shin as he got to his feet and limped to the corner of the house. There was no way he could catch her now.

He couldn’t decide whether to be enraged or relieved. Part of him was pissed that she’d frickin’ punched and kicked him, but another part was glad he hadn’t had to arrest her.

Blaine’s radio squawked. “Got an update for me, man? Where you at?”

He stilled, wondering if Ollie would cross her escape path.

“Blaine? You there?”

Reaching for his radio, he clicked it on and croaked, “The perp got away. Too fast for me.”

He felt sick, knowing he’d have to report that the perp was female and she’d attacked him before slipping from his grasp. Reports had to be written, and he knew he wouldn’t fudge the details. He didn’t have it in him.

He’d leave out the fact that he knew the perp, but that would be pushing it.

Shit, he’d always been the best cop he could be and now he was thinking about lying on his paperwork. But he wouldn’t out Rosie until he’d had a chance to talk to her privately. There had to be a reason she was doing this. He couldn’t make himself believe she was a full-blown criminal.

Slumping back against the fence, he ignored the cold seeping into his jacket and gazed at the spot in the snow where the bag had fallen.

What was in it?

What the hell had she needed so badly?

“Meet you back at the house,” Ollie’s voice squawked through the radio. “We might be able to find some clues. See if the team can’t lift some prints.”

“Got it.” Blaine’s voice sounded dead.

He felt dead. Deflated.

Rosie was obviously in more trouble than he realized.

Closing his eyes, he pushed off the fence and walked back to the house. He stopped next to the trash cans she’d kicked over and found his feet dragging the closer he got to the house.

Somehow he had to make it through his shift without giving away who their perp was.

He didn’t know how he was going to last.

All he did know was that Rosie had some major explaining to do, and he wasn’t going to bed that night until he found out the truth.