Resonable Doubt

by Catherine Anderson

  Breanna couldn't stop trembling now. "Oh, God, Dane..."

  "He's taken a stash and hidden it. I don't know where. But that twenty I dropped, the one you found, it came from him. He deliberately gave it to me, knowing I'd spend it without realizing it was hot. Only I didn't. I dropped it. And it came over the news that a woman had passed it, a woman who fitted your description. The others put two and two together and figured I gave you the money. You don't screw these guys over and get away with it."

  Breanna groaned. "Dane, they might kill you. You can't go back."

  "If I don't, they'll get suspicious. But you've got to run, Bree." Dane gripped her shoulders and moved her away from him. "You understand? This is my way of making it up... all those things I did to you. I had to come tell you."

  "Dane..."

  "I know I don't deserve it, but trust me, just once more. Go inside and tell Ross what's happening. He doesn't know things have turned sour and he's got to know it. If he doesn't, I won't be the only one who gets hurt. You under­stand?"

  "Tyler," Breanna whispered. "He's a part of it. I've known for a couple of days."

  "God, no! Ross? He's an agent. I wasn't sure at first, not until he moved in with you. He's a G-man with the Trea­sury Department. Since Morrow pulled that stunt with the scythe down by the creek, Ross has been guarding you."

  "No" Breanna shook her head. "No, Dane, that

  couldn't be true. He and I... we..." Her voice trailed off and a hundred memories flashed into her mind. Damning memories. "He's been watching me? You mean it was part of his job?"

  "Breanna, right now the last thing I'm worried about is your feelings. He's a cop. None of the others know it, but I trailed Ross one afternoon and saw him meet some other fellows in the brush, down by the creek. They're Feds. It stuck out all over them."

  Strangely enough, she didn't feel so much frightened now as empty. Just empty, horribly empty. "All right, Dane, I'll go tell him what you've said. But I want you to come with me. This doesn't have to be the end for you. You never meant to hurt Thatcher. You haven't done anything that wrong, not yet, not if you stop now."

  "I can't. They'll know something's up." Dane cocked his head, then shoved her away from him. "Go! Morrow's coming."

  She looked toward the creek. She heard the footsteps, too. "Dane, please..."

  "Bree, one more thing! The mine—there's another— Oh, damn, run! Run, Bree. I can see him coming."

  Breanna saw a flash of white in the bushes and turned to go, more afraid for Dane than she was for herself. She knew her cousin had committed the unforgivable sin by confid­ing in her. They'd kill him for sure if they found out.

  She reached the cabin and let herself in as quietly as she could. Tyler was wiping the stove when she stepped into the living room, and he turned to smile at her. "My God, what's wrong?"

  "Everything."

  He clenched the dishcloth in his fist. "What are you talking about?"

  "You're with the Treasury Department. Everything, it was all a lie."

  "Not everything."

  "Oh, yes, everything. Why? Was it a fringe benefit of the job? Do you sleep with every woman you protect?"

  Anger flashed in his eyes. "Who the hell have you been talking to?"

  "It's true, isn't it? You were assigned to watch me. Weren't you?"

  "Yes, but—"

  "No buts. When you moved in here, it was part of your job, wasn't it?"

  "Breanna..." The guilt on his face answered her ques­tion.

  "Looking back on it, I think you even thought I was part of it all for a while, didn't you?" She wiped her moist palms on her jeans. "Answer me!"

  "Yes," he admitted. "Breanna... it hasn't all been a lie. I believed-—"

  "Just shut up!" she hissed. "You used me. You wormed your way into my confidence to learn all you could about Dane, about the hold Morrow had over him. It's ail so clear now. How could I have been so stupid? My cousin's going to die, and you don't even care. Anything for your precious investigation!"

  "Breanna, you weren't stupid. What you told me that day, I've never repeated. The only thing I told Jones was there was a chance Dane did have something to hide and that Morrow might be using it to coerce him. I swear it."

  "They're going to murder him. You could have stopped it! Don't tell me you didn't know about Morrow, Thatcher and Darren. You've known. And you stood back, watching Dane go under. Tough luck, right? Well, let me tell you something. Dane's a good person. He's made some mis­takes, but only because he didn't have anywhere to turn. Of course, you wouldn't understand that, would you? All you think about is getting the job done."

  "You're hysterical. Who's Darren?"

  "You're right, I'm hysterical. You did nothing to help Dane. Why? Doesn't a human life count for anything with you people?"

  "I'm getting confused here. I began to suspect Dane was being coerced, but—"

  "You're confused?" There was an awful stillness in her chest. "You ought to be me, then you'd know what con­fused is."

  "I think you'd better calm down," he said softly.

  "I'm calm enough." She blinked tears from her eyes. "Dane told me to tell you we'd better get out of here. Mor­row has set him up, stolen some of the money. They..." Her voice faltered, then she regained control and finished Dane's message in a stilted monologue, telling him everything. "I think they're going to kill him."

  Breanna lifted her hands in a helpless gesture. "I tried to persuade him to come with me. But Morrow was coming."

  She started to cry, softly, brokenly, and Tyler came to her, wrapping both arms around her. "Breanna, it'll turn out okay. It's not as bad as it seems right now. You'll see."

  She stiffened and drew away from him, wiping her cheeks. "Get me out of here. Maybe if I'm gone, he'll have the sense to run."

  Tyler doused the lantern and strode quickly to the bed­room. As he reentered the living room, he strapped on his shoulder holster and donned a yellow jacket. "Forget packing. Breanna, are you sure Dane's the only one who knows who I am?"

  "That's what he said. And I think he's beyond lying."

  "I'll notify Jones of that, then. Thank God Dane had sense enough to keep his mouth shut."

  "How will you notify anyone?" She no sooner asked the question than she knew the answer. "Oh, on your radio. I was incredibly naive, wasn't I?"

  In the fading glow of the lantern she saw him shake his head. "You just trusted. There's no sin in that."

  If there wasn't, why did she feel so humiliated? Tyler groped in his jeans pocket for the car keys, then led her onto the porch. Coaly scampered in front of them, down the steps and around the fruit cellar.

  Just as they reached the car, Coaly charged off, barking furiously. It was a frenzied, wild sound. Breanna whirled. In the dark, the black dog was scarcely more than a shadow, but she saw him streak up the ramp and into the barn, in hot pursuit of something. No, not something, someone.

  Almost immediately there came a bout of vicious snarl­ing, then a shrill yelping that ripped nightmarishly across the drive. She sprang into a run. The dog was screaming with pain, and each cry cut clear through her. She saw Tyler coming from the other side of the Honda, also running flat out.

  "Bree, no!"

  "Coaly? Coaly!"

  Breanna was up the ramp in two strides and into the cor­ridor before Tyler could reach her. He clamped his arms around her, dragging her backward. "No, Bree, for God's sake, no!..."

  Just then the barn fell deathly quiet. Breanna froze in Tyler's arms, staring into the black bowels of the passage­way. "Coaly?"

  Tyler's hand swooped down over her mouth and stayed there, pressing so hard that it almost suffocated her. He stepped back with her. She could feel his heart pounding against her shoulder blade and realized, too late, that the counterfeiters were inside the barn with them.

  A gun went off and she heard Dane's voice. "No, damn you! Leave her alone!"

  The bullet splintered the wood right beside them. Tyler swore under
his breath and dived with her toward the door. They rolled partway down the ramp, then thudded off it onto the ground, hitting so hard that Breanna got the wind knocked out of her.

  Crouching over her, Tyler whipped out his gun. She heard a click and knew he had pulled back the hammer. When she looked up, she saw he had his right wrist braced against his left palm, arms extended and locked. He remained like that, his eyes riveted above them on the yawning doorway.

  "Run," he whispered. "Straight up the drive to the car."

  Breanna caught her breath and rose on the balls of her feet. "Tyler, we can't risk the car...not after what Dane said about Darren and the girl."

  Tyler thought furiously. She was right. "Cut through the woods to the road. I'll catch up with you. My place. There'll be other agents there to protect you. Tell them to douse the lantern. If no one's there, turn on the radio, leave the fre­quency where it is and call for help. If I don't make it, someone else will."

  If you don't make it? Breanna's heart sank. "But..."

  "Go," he ordered, "before you end up getting me killed."

  She leaped forward into a full-length run. Behind her, she heard the report of a gun, then another, the shots increas­ing quickly to a volley.

  Never in all her life had she run so hard. All she could think of was reaching the radio to call for help. Nothing would stop her. When her foot hit a chuckhole, sending her into a headlong sprawl, she jumped up again, ignoring the pain of a twisted ankle.

  It was her fault, all her fault. Tyler had called out to her, trying to stop her from going into the barn, but she'd run on ahead. Stupid, stupid, stupid. If he died back there, it would be her doing, as surely as if she'd held a gun to his temple and pulled the trigger.

  Oh, please, God... The unfinished prayer echoed and reechoed in her mind as her legs ate up the distance to Ty­ler's cabin.

  She had reached the last bend in the road before the cut­off, when Tyler caught up with her. He grabbed her hand and dived with her into the ditch alongside the graveled shoulder, covering her body with his. "We need to get out of sight. They're not far behind." She heard him reload his weapon.

  "Breanna, I love you. I want to be sure you know that, just in case. I love you, Bree—"

  "Oh, Tyler, I'm sorry. They were hurting Coaly and I ran in there without thinking. I'm so sorry"

  "Hush!"

  Headlights came around the curve, bathing them in their glare. Tyler ducked his head and shrank closer to her. Breanna held her breath as Morrow's pickup passed them. Then it braked and began backing toward them, coming fast.

  "Oh, Lord. Cross the road to the creek, Bree, quick."

  A shot whizzed past them. Tyler clasped her arm, drag­ging her to her feet, then they dashed across the asphalt, Tyler firing off shots to cover them. The next second, Breanna felt open air under her feet, then she was falling. When she hit ground, she landed on her back and slid until her hip collided with a tree trunk. At least the truck couldn't follow them here.

  "Damn, it's straight down," he whispered. "Hold on to me."

  The rest of the descent was fast and scary. It was so dark that Breanna couldn't see the trees that loomed ahead. She ran into her share of them, scraping her extended arms, and so did Tyler. It was no consolation to hear sharp barks of pain coming from the men who pursued them.

  "Who are they? How many are there? It's not just Mor­row."

  "Counterfeiters, a bunch of them. Dammit, I can't see."

  A bunch of them? How many is a bunch?

  They broke out of the trees. It was lighter along the creek. Hand in hand, they forded a shallow spot in the stream and raced into the pines on the adjacent hillside. Behind them she heard voices raised in argument, then the splashing of feet following their trail.

  Breanna's lungs felt as if they might burst. She had run almost a mile on the road and now they were lunging up a steep hillside. I can do it, she told herself. I can't let him know I'm tiring. Tyler was getting ahead of her. His arm was outstretched behind him to keep hold of her hand. A couple of times, she felt him slow down so she could catch up. Behind them, she could hear brush cracking. They were losing ground; the men chasing them were getting closer and closer.

  Tyler pitched forward. "Oh, damn!" She heard him fall into the brush. Then he bit back a moan of pain.

  Frantic, Breanna dropped to her knees, groping blindly to find him. She ran into a tree, bruising her shoulder. She slid down a slight decline into a growth of vines. "Ty­ler...?"

  Her pulse slammed with fear. Where was he? She heard him moan again. She clawed her way on her belly, slapping the air ahead of her with her hands until she touched his boot.

  "Bree... my leg... it's bad. Can you find your way out alone?"

  Alone? Without him? "No, I..."

  "Go to my cabin. Stay in the woods until you're sure you've lost them. You know how to take care of yourself in the brush. You have to get me help."

  "But..."

  "Get to my cabin and radio for help," he commanded her. "Go! I'm counting on you, Breanna. You've got to make it."

  The men below them were drawing closer. She could see the beam of a flashlight bobbing. Tyler squeezed her hand a moment, then gave her a little push. "Go."

  Breanna crawled backward. As much as she hated leav­ing him, if he couldn't run, she had no choice. She sprang to her feet. "Tyler, I—I love you."

  "I never doubted it."

  Chapter Fifteen

  Breanna backtracked and crossed the creek about a quarter mile above Tyler's cabin, then cut into the heavy brush that lined the road. She'd managed to lose her pursuers, but there were lights glowing in the cabin windows, so she hid behind the woodpile. A blond man stood in the kitchen. She could see him over the top tier of logs, pouring a cup of coffee. His shoulder holster, which was similar to Tyler's, and his nonchalant air convinced her he belonged there. She ran to the front door. Glancing behind her, she rapped softly. A moment later she heard footsteps inside.

  "Who is it?" a deep voice demanded.

  "Breanna Morgan. Let me in, please, let me in."

  The door opened a fraction, then swung wide, but there was no one standing there. That struck her as odd. She stepped cautiously across the threshold.

  "Freeze!"

  The harshly barked order stopped her dead and buckled her knees with fright. The door hit the wall behind her, and movement flashed on both sides. So tense that her neck creaked, she looked first to the right, then to the left. In both directions she gazed into the snubbed barrel of a gun. She had walked right into a trap.

  The two men who flanked her crouched in a ready-to-fire stance that made her skin crawl. Their fingers were curled around the triggers of their weapons. She might be shot if she made a wrong move.

  "Arms up," the blond man ordered. "That's good. Now step on inside, lady, real slow and easy like."

  Breanna's legs felt like wobbly rubber. She moved for­ward, praying she wouldn't fall. The blond man inched around her, his pistol trained on her chest.

  "Frisk her," he told the other man.

  Palms slid beneath her arms, moving in a quick motion downward. "I don't like this, Brent, not with a woman."

  "Yeah, well, I'd rather be a live bastard than a dead gentleman."

  "She's clean."

  The fair-haired man still didn't lower his gun. "Start talking, lady, and fast. Name first."

  "Breanna Morgan." Her gaze landed on the gun again. It was exactly like Tyler's. Agents. Thank God. "Please, you've got to listen "

  "Don't move," he barked. "I mean it, lady."

  "Please. We're wasting time. Tyler needs help."

  "Ross?" the other man asked.

  Breanna turned to look at him, taking in his brown hair and features. The man in the manzanita? So it had been Tyler she had seen that night. "Yes. They have him holed up about a mile from here. He's hurt. He fell on a—"

  The back door burst open. A tall, dark man rushed in­side. "Ross is in trouble. I just heard
gunfire. Sounded like all hell broke loose." His brown eyes riveted on Breanna. "My God, Falson, put your weapon away! That's the Van Patten girl."

  "She didn't say Van Patten, she said Morgan." Falson lowered his gun. "I wasn't taking any chances."

  The older man strode across the room, jabbing his thumb at the pictures on the closet door. "If you'd done your homework, you'd have known her on sight. I told you to study the layouts."

  Breanna's attention flew to the photographs of herself and Coaly, then returned to the older man.

  "What's going on with Ross?" he asked her. "Do you know?"

  "He's hurt. The counterfeiters were chasing us and he fell. He's on a hillside, and he sent me for help. I only heard gunfire for a while. He either ran out of ammunition or they—"

  "Okay, slow down. Can you tell me where he is? I'm Jack Jones, his friend. You can trust me."

  A vision of the woods slipped into her mind. Setting them an accurate course through the forest at night would be im­possible. "No, but I can take you."

  "Too dangerous," he countered.

  "Too dangerous? Tyler needs help, don't you under­stand? I don't care if it's dangerous. Besides, it's my land. I've every right to be in on this."

  Jones met her gaze. She had the feeling he was sizing her up. "All right." He stepped to the table, picking up an ex­tra box of ammunition. "Jacobsen, you come with me. Falson, you man the radio. Get more lookouts posted around the entrance to the mine. Call Simonson and Miller and get the roadblocks up. This sucker's coming down to­night."

  Both Jones and Jacobsen withdrew their guns from their holsters and ejected the clips to check for bullets. When they shoved them home, the rasp of metal filled the room. Breanna flinched.

  Jones glanced up. "You sure you're up to this?"

  "I'm sure."