Gabe winced. The television reporter had described him as “a married father of two children,” but he hadn’t really thought of the poor kids. “What about her interviews with the cops? Did they sound aboveboard?”
“I’m going to say no.” Boyd’s expression was grim. “She said the detective asked only whether Glenn had been drinking too much, whether he’d sought counseling. Could he have had a car accident he hadn’t told her about, maybe a string of tickets? That might have made him fear he’d be fired. Did he sometimes speed?”
“In other words, this detective steered away from anything that might point to a problem at O.R.E.”
“You got it. In fairness, the company is the biggest employer in the county, by a long shot. I’m going to guess local government in general tiptoes around O.R.E. issues.”
Gabe grunted. That was, of course, an explanation for some of Risvold’s problems investigating the Keifs’ murders.
“When I raised the subject of drugs,” Boyd continued, “she flipped out. What was I talking about? And then she got mad and said Glenn wouldn’t have been involved with anything so vile.” He grimaced. “She showed me the door.”
“Damn. If only he’d told her what he’d discovered.”
“That would be nice,” Boyd countered, “except that if there’d been any hint he had in her first response to the news about her husband, I doubt she’d have lived long.”
“No, you’re right.” Gabe stretched out his legs and gazed broodingly at his booted feet. “Her obvious shock and ignorance saved her.”
Boyd stayed silent, a frown pulling at his eyebrows. After a while, he said, “So, what’s next?”
“Hell if I know.” Gabe told him about Trina’s attempt to put some pressure on Chloe, and how it had backfired.
Sounding tentative, unusual for him, Boyd began, “If you three just stay hunkered down...”
Gabe swore and surged to his feet. Glaring down at his friend, he said, “Until Chloe’s ready to start kindergarten? I think Trina’s partners might have kicked her out of the practice by then, don’t you? And what happens after my physical?”
He made a rough sound and shoved his fingers through hair that was way past regulation length, bracing himself to be called out on the dramatics.
All Boyd said was, “You still working out?”
His glare probably intensified. “Of course I am!”
“And?”
“And what?” Gabe snarled, but he knew. Would he pass the physical? He hated feeling conflicted about the possible outcome. Damn, did he want to fail, because of these inconvenient feelings for a woman?
His buddy smiled faintly. “Okay.”
“I’ve got to get back. I don’t like leaving them.” He’d just felt a tug, as if he were attached with a tether.
“I understand.” Without further comment, Boyd walked him out.
Gabe mounted, trotted Mack out of the barn and kicked him almost immediately into a gallop.
* * *
TRINA TOOK THE containers holding the peas nobody had eaten last night and the mac and cheese, too, from the refrigerator. This was one meal that couldn’t be easier. Of course, she shouldn’t get ahead of herself, assuming Gabe would rush home. He and Boyd might have a lot to talk about—
A neigh from outside drew her to the window, where she could see the paddock, where the gelding she’d been riding called eagerly over the fence. Yes! Coming into sight, Mack answered, and Gabe leaned forward to slap him on the neck.
She went into the living room, unnerved when she didn’t immediately see Chloe. She rushed to the downstairs bathroom, calling, “Chloe?”
The bathroom was empty. Trina spun to go for the stairs but spotted Chloe crawling out from behind a hefty leather easy chair.
“It scared me when I didn’t see you. Were you hiding?”
“Kinda.” Her eyes were red, her hair stringy and falling out of the ponytail.
Trina sank down on the chair and held out her hand. “Will you come and cuddle with me?” To heck with lunch.
The little girl sniffed, nodded and, with a little help, scrambled up onto Trina’s lap. Trina tucked her in close and resolved not to ask any more questions. The comfort of an embrace was enough.
Chloe mumbled something Trina didn’t hear. She bent her head closer, even as she half listened for the back door to open.
“I sawed Uncle Ronald.”
It took a few seconds for the words to sink in. Chloe had sawed—seen—a man she called “uncle.” Ronald.
“’Cept, he wouldn’t hurt Daddy!” she exclaimed passionately. “He leaned over so I sawed him. He musta been going to help Daddy get up, only...only he didn’t.”
“Oh, honey.”
Chloe sounded younger, as if she’d regressed in the past few minutes to a time when her language was less well developed. The tear-wet, freckled face peered up at Trina in bewilderment.
“I almost went out, but then I ’membered Mommy saying to wait, no matter what, so I didn’t.”
Trina sent a prayer of thanks winging upward. She wished Chloe’s mother could know that she had saved her. Maybe...maybe she did.
“I’m so glad,” she whispered. “So glad.”
Chloe muffled a sob against her.
The creak of a floorboard brought Trina’s head up fast. Gabe stood in the opening from the kitchen, his expression arrested. Swallowing the agony and the hope, she nodded.
Chapter Thirteen
“Call me paranoid,” Gabe growled, “but I don’t trust Risvold in particular. He may have innocent reasons for his behavior and his excuse for an investigation, but I can’t forget that he or his department had a leak.” Remembering the burns on Trina’s back spiked his temper. That fire had come damn close to claiming two victims, ensuring that the Keif murders were never solved.
Despite all Gabe had seen and done, he had to shake his head over this guy. Ronald Pearson had to be unbelievably cold-blooded and ruthless. The same could be said about the terrorists Gabe hunted, but they at least committed atrocities out of idealism, however mistaken, not greed.
“You’re right,” Trina said in response to his reminder. “But...a detective? I did some research online, and he’s been with the Sadler Police Department for twelve years.”
“Detective for six of those. I know. And he might have been accepting kickbacks for those same twelve years,” Gabe pointed out. “Longevity and integrity aren’t synonymous.”
She made a face. “What are you going to tell them, then?”
Gabe rolled his shoulders to release some tension. “To start with, I’ll call Deperro, not Risvold. I won’t accuse his partner of anything, but I’ll express our concern about the past leak that was damn near fatal for you and Chloe.” Concern being such a pallid word for what he really felt.
Trina shivered. “Yes, it was.”
“I’ll set up a meeting for them to ask Chloe their questions.” They both knew the cops couldn’t make an arrest based on the word of an anonymous caller. Not Trina’s word, either. No, they’d insist on interviewing the three-year-old witness.
Sounding uneasy, Trina said, “You mean, take her to town?”
“Not a chance.” He made his voice solid granite. “They could grab her and we couldn’t stop them. I’m thinking at Boyd’s place. We can make sure there are too many witnesses for them to be able to get away with anything.”
Her fingers bit into her palms. “Does that mean we can stay here, then? Until it’s all over? I mean, they wouldn’t know the cabin is here, or your name...”
“I’m on the deed and there’s a permit on file for the cabin,” he said, almost gently. “And don’t forget the flyover. It wouldn’t take a genius to realize that, if we know Boyd, this or one of the other ranch houses is a good possibility for the hideout.”
Her anxi
ety wasn’t as well hidden as she probably thought it was, but she only nodded. “Then we’ll have to figure out something else.”
Moving fast, he shoved back his chair and rounded the table. Gripping her upper arms, he tugged her to his feet. “I won’t abandon you.”
She blinked a couple of times in quick succession, nodded and softened, letting herself lean against him. He wanted to share his strength with her but knew that wasn’t why she needed him. This was a gutsy woman. Despite the intense compassion that allowed her to reach terrified children, she’d do whatever she had to.
She straightened and stepped back, even managing a smile of sorts. “Thank you. I...had faith that you wouldn’t. So, are you going to Bend again?”
He’d rather still be holding her but respected her decision to stand on her own two feet. “Yeah, I think so. If they’ve ever traced one of my calls, with luck they’ll think we’re in that area.”
“Okay. I’d tell you to get groceries, too, but we don’t need anything.”
“Good. I don’t want to be away that long.” He smiled crookedly. “Although I do appreciate my home-cooked meals.”
She chuckled. “Are you running out of phones yet?”
“Nope, I pick one up every time I go in the right kind of store. Better not to be remembered as the guy who purchased ten phones. Speaking of, I’m going to leave one with you, in case of an emergency. I’ll enter my number, Boyd’s and Leon Cabrera’s. One or both of them may be closer than I am.”
Whether he liked it or not, the possibility was real that bad stuff could go down at any time.
“You’d better get going,” she suggested.
“Yeah.” After entering the numbers, Gabe handed a phone to her. Then he kissed her, quick and hard, and went out the door. He heard her lock it behind him before he strode to the outbuilding where he garaged his truck.
Having decided not to take the time to switch out vehicles, Gabe spent the drive second-guessing himself. Would a recording of Chloe’s testimony be sufficient? That’s all a jury would see, anyway. No one would put a preschooler on the stand. Or was there a safer place for a meet, one that wouldn’t give away their location?
But he shook his head at that. It wouldn’t surprise him if the cops already knew where they were. To give them a strong suspicion, all they’d have had to do was succeed in tracing one of those assorted license plates to a guy now working at the ranch.
He really did believe that the rats would desert the sinking ship the minute cuffs closed around Ronald Pearson’s wrists. He and Trina would need to stay on guard for a while, sure, but—
A Deschutes County Sheriff’s Department car passed him going the other direction, a sight that snapped him back to the awareness of his surroundings. He knew better than to brood at the wrong time and place.
Ten minutes later, he parked, facing out, in the Home Depot lot.
His call was put through to the detective, who answered brusquely. “Deperro.”
“Detective, this is Dr. Marr’s friend.”
“Damn it, what’s with the secrecy?”
“You know as well as I do,” he snapped. “You have a leak. If you know how word got out about Chloe starting to talk and where she was living, you should have told Dr. Marr or me. As it is, I don’t figure I can talk to either of you without assuming what I say may be passed on.”
“That’s insulting.”
Gabe’s radar hummed. Deperro should have spoken sharply; sounded insulted. Instead, he’d said what he ought to, but without conviction.
“I have news,” Gabe said abruptly. “Chloe told Trina and me who she saw that morning. It was the partner, Ronald Pearson.” He heard only silence. Stunned? “‘Uncle Ronald’ is what she called him. He bent over her father’s body, so she got a good look at his face. She thought he was going to help her daddy get up, but he didn’t.”
“Damn,” Deperro muttered.
Gabe could think of stronger words. “If you’re doing your job, by now you know the likelihood that drug traffickers are using O.R.E.’s fleet of trucks to transport their products to market. Chances are that Michael Keif found out somehow, and they had a confrontation.”
“Risvold doesn’t believe in the drug angle, but I was heading that direction.”
“Good to know. Okay. I’m assuming you need to talk to Chloe yourself before you can make an arrest.”
“Yeah.” The detective’s voice sounded hoarse. “We do. Man. I’ve never arrested anyone based on the word of a kid that age.”
“Now that you know, you’ll find plenty of other evidence. I hope you have the DEA ready to close in on Open Range the second you’ve arrested the bastard.”
Possibly irritated, the guy only said, “Will you bring the girl here? The sooner, the better. What time?”
“Not there. I need better security than you can give us.” He mentioned the local rancher he knew, who had agreed to allow them to meet at his house. “We can do this afternoon. We’ll need an hour or two to get there, be prepared.”
They agreed on four o’clock. Gabe glanced at the dashboard clock. Yeah, that gave them plenty of time. He named Boyd and the ranch, then ended the call.
Once again, he dumped the phone on his way out of the parking lot, this time in a small, wrinkled bag left from an order of burgers and fries. Then he steered a route to the highway.
* * *
TRINA DID A lot of pacing even as she listened for any sound from Chloe upstairs. She felt again as if her skin had shrunk, only worse.
It wasn’t as if there was any reason to think they were in danger, unless... Was he right, that the detectives might have figured out how to find them? If so, they’d displayed more patience than she would have anticipated. Their initial impatience had been understandable. How frustrating would it be to have a single witness and she was not only mute but couldn’t communicate by writing, either? Had they actually come to grasp how traumatized Chloe was? Remembering her last conversation from Risvold, she made a face.
Not feeling any calmer, Trina went from window to window, stealing looks out. The only movement was in back, where the horses wandered from the paddock into the shade of an overhang where Gabe kept a manger and a tub of water. Finally, surrendering to this edgy feeling, she opened the gun safe. She could just leave it standing open... No, she couldn’t. What if she didn’t see Chloe come downstairs? Okay, then, she’d take out the black rifle Gabe had let her handle as well as the smallest handgun, and set them up high on the bookshelves, where she could snatch them quickly at need. She knew he’d checked, and rechecked, to be sure they were loaded and ready if she needed them.
She felt a little better once she had the guns out and had closed the safe again securely. Then she went back to her route, window to window, and to clock-watching.
Gabe would have made his call and started back. More than that—he’d surely be home in fifteen to twenty minutes, if he hadn’t been held up. Say, he’d had to wait to reach the detective.
Ten minutes later, the sound of an engine came to her. Trina almost slumped in relief, but she went to the front window and opened a slit in the blinds to see out. Dust rose on the cutoff to Gabe’s cabin. The vehicle was big and black...but something didn’t look quite right. Wary, she waited.
It was an SUV that pulled up in front, one with the kind of antennas that police cars had. And a row of lights inside, at the top of the windshield. A man got out.
Detective Risvold. She could make out his face clearly, see the badge on his belt and the holstered gun at his hip. Why would he have just showed up here like this?
Apprehensive, Trina took out the phone, went to Gabe’s number, then changed her mind. Boyd was closer. Her thumb hovered over the screen.
“Ms. Marr!” Risvold called. At least he had the sense to wait by his SUV. “I know you’re in there. I’m here to talk to the girl.”<
br />
He couldn’t know anything of the kind, not for sure.
Ignore him? Crack the door and tell him he had to wait?
Call Boyd. But for a second, she hesitated. Had she heard something upstairs? Don’t let Chloe come down, not now.
“Damn it, Miss... Dr. Marr.” He leaned on the “doctor.” Sneering? Or pacifying her? “I’m short on patience. There’s a killer walking free. I can’t do anything about that until I hear what the kid has to say.”
All true.
Ring. Ring. Ring. Finally, “Chaney here.”
“It’s Trina,” she whispered, then realized there wasn’t any reason not to speak in a normal voice. “Detective Risvold is standing out front demanding I let him in to interview Chloe.”
“What?” Boyd said. “How the hell did he find you? Never mind. Damn, I’m on horseback, probably ten minutes from home, longer to get to you. Where’s Gabe?”
“He drove to Bend to call. He told you what Chloe said?”
“Yeah. Shit. Don’t let the guy in. I’ll call Leon. He may be nearer to you.”
“Okay. Thank you. Gabe should be back anytime.”
“Good. You armed?”
“Yes, but... I can’t shoot a police officer!”
“You can if he takes out a window or tries to break in,” he said grimly. “Go for a warning shot. That ought to have him retreating out of range.”
Her smile wobbled. “Okay. Thanks, Boyd.” She sidled over to the bookcase and grabbed the rifle. She was more comfortable with it. Then she scrolled to Gabe’s number, just as more dust rose outside as another vehicle approached fast. Was he back...?
No, this was a dark gray sedan with, she saw as it got closer, the same kind of antenna.
She pushed Send.
* * *
GABE’S HANDS CLENCHED in frustration on the steering wheel as he sat in his truck in the scant shade of a lodgepole pine. After leaving Highway 97, he’d driven only a few miles on the secondary road before spotting a police car parked on a dirt pulloff ahead. Probably there to catch a few speeders, but he couldn’t risk sailing by. It was unlikely the deputy would notice the distinctive dents made by bullets, but a BOLO with the description of Gabe’s truck or the license plate might conceivably have gone out. Gabe had been lucky enough to see a dirt lane turning off to the left half a mile before he reached the cop, and he’d taken it.
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