Logan gritted his teeth, trying to keep his heart from bursting out of his rib cage. Ashley’s face was pale but her gaze was steely in the fading light. Silently, she mouthed the words, Take the shot. So much trust. His chest filled with warmth, even though his injured arm shook from the strain of keeping his gun steady.
He raised the gun to aim at the man’s head, above Ashley’s right shoulder. “You know we can’t do that.”
A loud scream rent the air—the mountain lion—so close even Logan started. Ashley’s eyes went wide, the whites visible around her dark irises.
“¡Espíritu de Chisos!” the guard gasped. He glanced around at the dark woods, letting the rifle drop from Ashley’s back.
All the chance she needed. She spun, shoving the rifle up and away from her body and aiming her own weapon at his torso. He reacted almost instantly, angling the muzzle out of her reach and slamming the butt of the rifle into her face before she could fire.
Logan lunged forward as she stumbled to the side, blood streaming from her nose. He drove his good shoulder into the man’s stomach, sending the assault rifle flying and both of them crashing to the ground.
“Logan, the gun!” Ashley called, her voice muffled by the blood.
The man twisted and strained to reach the rifle, but Logan pushed off his chest and stretched as his injured shoulder screamed in protest. His fingertips found the strap and he flung the weapon backward out of reach. The man twisted again, trying to knock Logan off, but he pressed his knee down hard into the man’s stomach.
“You’re under arrest for assault.” He pointed his gun at the man’s chest, releasing one hand to get the cuffs from his belt.
“Logan...” Ashley’s voice trembled.
“What?” he grunted, his injured shoulder arguing as his fingers closed around the cool metal of the cuffs.
A low growl came from the woods to his left. Very close.
The man pinned beneath his knee shook, muttering what almost sounded like a prayer in Spanish. Logan followed his stare into the nearby trees.
A full-grown mountain lion, its eyes dancing like twin golden orbs, clung to one of the branches. The path lay easily within its forty-five-foot leaping ability.
Great. Logan’s shoulders tensed. Maybe two dozen mountain lions lived in the eight hundred thousand acres making up this park, and one had to pick now to show up.
“Don’t. Run.” He emphasized each word. “Wave your arms and back away slowly.”
The mountain lion growled again—more to announce its presence than to show aggression, he thought. He flipped the cuffs open, his gaze darting back and forth between the cougar and the paralyzed man beneath his knee.
Before Logan could get the cuffs around the man’s wrists, he twisted, throwing Logan off balance and shoving him sideways. He crashed onto the path as the big cat snarled again. It shifted its weight on the branch, making the leaves swish and crackle.
“¡Espíritu!” the man cried out again, backing away from the mountain lion and Logan, his eyes wide.
“Don’t run!” Logan scrambled to his feet, waving his arms. Mountain lions were shy of people, unless they felt threatened. Or were starving. This one held its ground.
Until the man took off down the path to the west in an all-out sprint.
The mountain lion coiled back on its haunches and, in one fluid motion, leaped onto the path ten feet away. In a heartbeat, it was gone, bolting after the fleeing man.
Logan gritted his teeth and lifted his gun toward the sky, firing three shots in quick succession. Hopefully enough to scare the big cat back into the woods. “Fool,” he muttered through clenched teeth. “Never turn your back on a predator.”
He’d call in the cougar sighting over the radio, and they’d have to get somebody out here to check the path for the man. Just in case.
Ashley touched his arm. “It wasn’t your fault. Maybe he got away.”
Her face was puffy and dark where the man had struck her, and blood crusted her nose and upper lip. He brushed a finger against her cheek. “Are you all right?”
“Fine.” Her voice sounded muffled, like she was keeping in a big lump of tears. Always trying to prove herself.
“Come here.” He slipped his hand around her back, tugging her into an embrace.
She buried her face in his shoulder, crying softly. After a few minutes she drew in a ragged breath. “I’m sorry.”
“For what? Getting my shirt wet?” He laughed, and she laughed, too, mingled with the crying. He rubbed his hand up and down on her back, leaning his face against her hair. “I don’t mind.”
Far too intimate for coworkers, and yet... It felt right. In a different way than things ever had with Erin. Like they were in this thing together, not him trying to convince her to stay.
After a moment Ashley pulled back, blinking away the last of her tears. Breathtakingly beautiful despite the rapidly swelling cheek where she’d been hit. “My dad never wanted me to join the FBI. Said it was too dangerous. I always thought he meant criminals, not mountain lions.”
Ah. That explained a few things. “Is that why you always have to prove yourself?”
“Probably.” She wiped at her cheeks, taking a couple of deep breaths. “Time to get these photos back?”
He nodded. “Let’s go catch the bad guys.”
Night had fallen by the time they returned to Ashley’s house and downloaded the pictures onto her laptop. Logan stuffed his aching arm back into the sling as they flipped through the images. The shots were good—several with clear, if small, views of the men’s faces. Enough that Ashley thought she’d be able to run them through the FBI’s database for possible matches.
The stars were out in full force as they walked past the quiet homes to headquarters, the white band of the Milky Way draped across the sky like a gauzy strip of fabric.
The lights were off, all the windows dark, as Logan unlocked the front door and let Ashley inside. They walked down the hall until they reached Logan’s office.
“Whose light is that?” She pointed farther down the hall, where a soft glow emanated from beneath one of the doors.
“It’s a conference room.” One without an exterior window. Huh. He rubbed his chin. “I have no idea who would be in here this late on a Friday night.” He let Ashley into his office. “You email Morton, I’m going to find out who it is.”
“Be careful.”
The hallway was silent as Logan tiptoed toward the conference room. The door was ajar and a hushed voice issued from the crack. He stopped beside the door, listening.
“No, I didn’t get your message. I’ve been out all afternoon.”
It sounded like...the superintendent? Why would he be here so late?
No response—must be on the phone. But why wasn’t he using his own office?
“How do you know it was one of mine?” Barclay snapped.
Another pause as someone answered, and a sigh that sounded almost like he was in pain.
“I remember. I’ll take care of it.” With a noise loud enough to make Logan jump, Barclay slammed down the receiver. A chair scraped on the floor.
Logan retreated a handful of steps and approached the door again, this time making loud footsteps. There was no way to hide that he and Ashley were there, but at least he could pretend he hadn’t heard Barclay’s conversation.
This time only silence came from within as he knocked against the door, pushing it open enough to peek inside.
Barclay stood, leaning against a chair. His shoulders were slumped and there were dark circles under his eyes. Apparently under a lot of stress lately.
“Dr. Barclay? I saw the light. Just wondering who was working this late.”
Barclay sighed. “Of course, Ranger Everett. I had to attend to a personal matter.”
In the conference room? Probably better not
to ask. But the gears turned in Logan’s mind.
“I think I’ll head home for the night.” Barclay pulled away from the chair. One of his hands was wrapped in white bandaging.
Logan gestured at the injury. “What happened?”
The superintendent shifted his weight but offered a lopsided smile. Forced? “Slammed it in the car door. I broke three fingers. Pretty careless, huh?”
Very. Or was there another explanation? Logan hated that his mind jumped immediately to the mole...but Barclay had never felt like the right fit for Big Bend.
They were getting closer to pinning Jimenez—was the broken hand a reminder of what Barclay had at stake?
“I hope it heals quickly.”
Barclay walked over to the door and Logan moved aside for him as he flipped off the light and entered the hallway. “Why are you here so late?” He scanned Logan, his gaze lingering on the wrapped arm. “Didn’t Chambers give you time off?”
“Yes, but I had a little work to catch up on.” Guilt niggled at his insides at the stretched truth. Although, technically, it was park-related work that had him here now. “My trainee has taken up a lot of my time, so I’m getting behind on some of my regular tasks.”
That was the truth. And apparently it appealed to Barclay’s anger about the San Vicente incident, because he nodded. “Of course. I understand. Get some rest.”
* * *
Logan stepped inside the office, his brows drawn in apparent concentration.
“Who was it?” Ashley glanced at him from over the top of her open laptop, curiosity pricking at her insides.
He sat in the chair opposite her—like a guest in his own office—and ran a hand through his hair. He waited, eyes on the door, as the echo of footsteps in the hallway receded. “Barclay.”
“The superintendent?” Now that was a little unusual, wasn’t it?
He nodded, pursing his lips. “And he had a few broken fingers.”
“You don’t suppose...?” Her mind leaped to the inevitable conclusion. He had been eager to get rid of her almost since the moment she’d arrived.
“Not gonna lie, the thought crossed my mind.”
“Well...” She tapped a finger on her chin. “He knows who I am, which could explain how Jimenez’s men knew my identity.”
“And why they were breaking into your house right away.” He rubbed his hand over his forehead. “But Ed Chambers knows your identity, too, doesn’t he?”
“He does. But I don’t think he’s the guy.”
Logan frowned. “What if we’re letting personal feelings cloud our judgment?” He stood and began to pace. “Ed has a motive. His sister is sick, and I know they need money for her medical bills.”
Ashley shook her head. “I’ve seen his personnel file. He’s had nothing but a brilliant record of service. The case is stronger against Barclay. New to the park. Under visible stress. The file he gave me on Jimenez had almost nothing in it. And he’s been against this investigation from the start.”
Logan stopped pacing. “And there’s the broken hand. But what’s his motive?”
“Money? Maybe Ed knows more about his personal life.”
“Maybe.” Logan stared at the window for a moment, the inside of his office reflecting off the dark glass. “But did Barclay know we were going to San Vicente?”
She drummed her fingers on the desk. “Maybe Jimenez has men down there all the time and they recognized me from a photograph. Or they ID’d my contact and followed him.”
“Then what about the map?” He sat, pointing at the yellowed paper on the desk. “Who sent it to you and how does Barclay know you have it?”
“Sam.” The missing memory snapped into place with beautiful clarity and Ashley slapped her hand down on the desk, scattering Logan’s papers. “Sam sent it to me.”
“You’re sure? He never mentioned it to me.”
“Absolutely sure. I remember now. I talked to him on the phone a few weeks before his death, and he told me he might’ve stumbled across something big. He said he was going to send me something.” She could almost picture the way Sam must have looked as he’d talked to her, the way his eyes glowed when he was excited. “At the time, I figured he was talking about a new species of cactus or something, because he could get so animated about anything.”
Logan grinned. “Sounds like Sam. Probably the most enthusiastic person I’ve ever met.”
She leaned her chin against her hand, staring across the office for a moment, deep in thought. “But the question is...where did Sam get it?”
“What if he found it, say, in someone’s office?”
“And then sent it to me? Why?”
He stood again, pointing at her as he spoke. “Because you are a federal agent. And if he suspected a mole within the park service, he wouldn’t have known whom to trust. But he knew you could do something about it.”
“And whoever he took it from must have figured, or even suspected, that I had it.”
“He was friends with Will Sykes. I wonder if he told Will about the map.”
Ashley chewed the inside of her lip. “Maybe. How can I find out without telling him who I am?”
“You can’t. But we’ll think of something. What about that first day you were here? Why did you go to Santa Elena, and who knew about it?”
It always came back to that one day still missing from her mind. She blew out an exasperated sigh. “I wish I could remember. I’ve got almost everything back, except for those twenty-four hours. All I know is I went to sleep in my apartment in DC, and I woke up in the Rio Grande.”
“Nothing in the middle? Not even a clue?”
“Believe me, I’ve tried.” She tapped a finger against her chin, trying to catch the elusive idea fluttering through her mind. “Where did you say you...found Sam?” So hard to ask without letting her voice crack.
“Dodson Trail—the outer rim.” He showed her on a park map. “About here. Why?”
“I wonder... Maybe I wanted to drive past the trail. Surely the park service must’ve told us where he was found. You don’t suppose his death could be linked to Jimenez, do you?”
“Maybe.” Logan’s brow furrowed. “But he wasn’t found anywhere near the mine. As much as I want it to not be my fault.”
She leveled her gaze at him, wishing there was some way to wipe the regret from his features. “It wasn’t your fault, Logan. Either way.”
“But how did you end up at Santa Elena if you were only driving to the trailhead?”
Ashley shrugged. “Who knows? Curiosity? A lead I was following on Jimenez?”
“Well, it doesn’t matter. We can still solve this case.” He resumed pacing, as if the movement helped his thoughts. It only took him three strides in each direction to cross the room. Every muscle in his upper body was taut, alert, despite the arm in the sling. She couldn’t have hand-picked a better partner.
Her heart twisted. Her job here was almost done. And even though she knew something was happening between them, she didn’t know what it meant. Or if either of them would be willing to act on it. A relationship between the two of them would be doomed from the start, wouldn’t it?
Her computer chimed—a response from her boss at the FBI. “Morton got back to me.”
“And?”
She scanned the message. “All three men can be positively identified as working for Jimenez. And—” she reread the last few sentences just to make sure “—he gave me the green light to arrest them.”
Logan froze, his eyes sparking with energy as they flicked to meet Ashley’s gaze.
She rounded the desk and flung her arms around his neck, being careful of his injured shoulder. “We did it.”
He slipped his arm around her back, holding her tightly. “We sure did.”
She pulled back, gazing up at him, her breath catching at the way the
light shifted in his green eyes, from excitement to something more subdued. Cautious. Questioning. The ache of past hurt lingered there beneath the surface and she longed to soothe it away.
He tipped his chin lower, closer, and without giving herself time to second-guess, she stretched to press her lips to his mouth. He kissed her back, threatening to make her heart burst from sheer joy. It was like coming home, to a place she’d been missing her whole life. Finally something made sense amid the heartache and confusion and fear of the last week.
If only it could last. But their lives were in two different places, and she wasn’t naïve enough to think one kiss meant forever. They were only making things harder.
Placing both hands on his cheeks, she pulled away. Swallowed. “I... I’m sorry. I have no right to—” She broke off, shaking her head. Stupid. He’d already had his heart broken once. “After we arrest Jimenez and the case is over, I have to—”
“It’s okay, Ashley.” He clasped one of her hands, pressing it to his lips. “I know. You don’t have to say it. I won’t kiss you again.” His lips tipped into a crooked grin. “Unless you ask.”
He released her hand, leaving her breathless and confused. Did he want her to stay in Big Bend? Would she, if he asked?
“Thanks,” she mumbled, gnawing at the inside of her lip. She’d worked her whole life to get to this point in her career, never questioning the sacrifices. But now? She wasn’t so sure.
Logan cleared his throat. “What about the inside man? We’ll never catch him.”
Back to business. Time to stuff her heart in a drawer and ignore its protests. “I know. But the Bureau or the federal prosecutor might be able to get it out of Jimenez later.”
“Plea bargain?”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” Maybe whoever it was would slip up during the arrest.
Logan resumed his pacing, rubbing his hand against his jaw. “How do we pull this off without the mole tipping off Jimenez?”
“We’ll call in an FBI team from the local office in El Paso.”
“You know that’s five hours away, right?”
Fatal Flashback Page 15
