by Pamela Clare
She’d taken a few steps when he bellowed after her, his voice surely disturbing their guests upstairs. “Where the hell’s my Glenm’rangie?”
She didn’t bother answering, but shut and locked her bedroom door behind her.
Lexi and her father didn’t speak at the breakfast table. She was furious with him for blowing his opportunity to make amends with Kendra last night, and he had a hangover and was still upset over the wasted whisky. She did the breakfast dishes, then went outside, sat on the bench, and called Britta.
That’s when she discovered Eric’s voice mail.
“Hey, Lexi, I’d like to take you out for dinner Saturday night, if you’re free. Give me a call.”
Drat.
What was she going to do about that? If she and Austin hadn’t reconnected last night—and it had been amazing—she’d have called Eric back in a heartbeat. But she didn’t think she could spend time with another man, no matter how hot he was, as long as she was sleeping with Austin.
She set the problem from her mind for now, saved the message, and called her sister. San Diego was an hour behind Colorado, so she caught Britta just getting out of the shower.
“You’ll have to make it quick. I’ve got a meeting with a client in an hour.”
Lexi gave her sister the bullet points on the situation with their father and Kendra. “How did Dad ever meet and marry Mom, much less Kendra? He is such an idiot when it comes to women.”
“He’s not an idiot,” Britta said. “He’s just being stubborn.”
“What do you mean?”
“If he were to let Kendra believe he changed his mind and hired Rain, then she would think she’d won their argument. You know how Dad hates to lose a fight.”
Lexi hadn’t thought about it like that, but Britta was right. Their father hated to lose an argument—especially when he was wrong.
“I have no idea what I’m going to say to Kendra.”
“I can’t help you there.”
Lexi felt a quick stab of resentment. Her sister was in San Diego running her graphic design company, while Lexi was stuck here in Scarlet dealing with their father by herself. “I could really use some moral support, you know. If Kendra divorces Dad, it’s going to affect both of us.”
“It won’t affect me.” Britta’s tone of voice was firm. “If she divorces him, it will be his problem. Let him sell the inn and move into a cabin. I don’t care. It’s nice of you to try to help out, but if he’s determined to destroy what’s left of his life, maybe you should let him.”
Oh, the idea was tempting—so tempting that Lexi almost felt guilty. But she couldn’t leave, not yet. She needed to complete the forensic audit for Megs and the Team. And then there was Austin. She had no idea what she’d gotten herself into where he was concerned, but she certainly intended to find out.
“I guess I’ll call Kendra, invite her to lunch, and see what happens.”
“I hate to hang up. I can tell you really want to talk this through, but I can’t show up at this meeting naked. I’m trying to land a logo redesign project for a major pharmaceutical company.”
“I had sex with Austin last night.”
“Okay, great. I’ll give you a call when … What?”
“Hope your meeting goes well.” With that, Lexi ended the call, certain Britta would call her back tonight.
Austin watched EMTs load the hiker into an ambulance. The man, a fit guy in his fifties, had gotten short of breath jogging around Moose Lake and called 911, afraid he was having a heart attack. Austin, who’d been patrolling, had been the first on the scene. He’d given the man oxygen and done what he could to keep him comfortable until Scarlet FD, the ambulance, and the Team arrived.
After the EMTs had hooked the hiker up to a heart monitor and started IV fluids—it looked like the guy was dehydrated, not having a heart attack—Austin, Hawke, Belcourt, Ahearn, O’Brien, and Sullivan had packed him into a litter, attached an ATV wheel to the bottom, and trailed him back to the parking lot.
Austin was about to call in and tell dispatch to show him back in service when Hawke walked up to him.
“So I guess you and Lexi patched things up.”
How did he know about that?
Rain.
She’d been their server. She must have run into him and said something.
“I apologized for being a jerk, and we agreed to move on.”
Hawke glared at him through the blue, mirrored lenses of his Revos. “How, exactly, does the two of you sleeping together constitute moving on?”
Austin stared at him. “Who told you we were sleeping together?”
“Your face just now. Jesus!” Hawke rubbed a hand over his jaw. “When Rose said she saw the two of you kissing outside the inn late last night, I thought she was just trying to get me riled up, but she was telling the truth.”
Rose.
Shit.
What did that woman do when she wasn’t sticking her nose into other people’s private lives?
“We didn’t plan it. It just happened. Lexi and I…” How could he explain what he and Lexi did to each other when he didn’t understand it himself? “We’re just friends. It’s nothing serious. She’s leaving in a few weeks. Until then…”
Hawke shook his head. “You and Lexi—just fuck buddies? If you believe that, you’re even dumber than I thought.”
Austin knew what was going on here—and it pissed him off. “You are jealous. You wanted to hook up with her while she was here. That’s what this is about.”
Hawke turned and stomped back to Rescue One, cursing.
Austin followed him. “You want to go out with her? Fine. Call her. Ask her out. We haven’t made each other any promises. She’s free to do what she wants.”
Even as he spoke the words, Austin felt pretty sure he’d punch his best friend in the face if he caught the two of them in bed.
Hawke opened the door and climbed into the driver’s seat. “I called her last night, but she didn’t call me back. Now I know why.”
“You called Lexi?” Austin stopped short.
Well, shit.
“You just stepped into a minefield, buddy, but this time you’re on your own. I won’t be there to help you pick up the pieces when she leaves.”
With that, Hawke threw the vehicle into reverse, backed out, and followed the ambulance out of the gravel parking lot.
Lexi stood, leaned across the table. “Look at me, Dad. If you do not stop being a thoughtless, stubborn idiot, Kendra will divorce you. She will divorce you! Got that?”
Her father glared at her through bloodshot eyes. “Do you have to shout?”
“I don’t know. Are my words making it through your ears to your brain?”
“Yes! Quiet down!”
“Did you read these?” Lexi pointed to the list she’d printed out—a comprehensive list of behaviors her father had to eliminate if he wanted his wife back. Guessing he hadn’t, she read them aloud. “No drinking.”
“You owe me two hundred bucks for the Glenmorangie.”
Lexi ignored that and kept reading. “No treating your wife as if she were an employee. No saying anything to her that isn’t kind and caring. No more pathetic attention-seeking behavior—walking around unshaven in your underwear, shoplifting, calling her about problems at the inn, etc. Is that clear enough, or do you need a comprehensive list of what constitutes ‘pathetic attention-seeking behavior’?”
He didn’t answer, his mouth a hard line.
She slid a second sheet of paper under his nose. “In place of those behaviors, which guarantee that Kendra will divorce you, you may choose behaviors from this list. They include calling her to tell her you love and miss her, calling her to apologize for your previous incidents of pathetic attention-seeking behavior, sending her flowers with sweet cards, asking her out to—”
“I’m just supposed to swallow my pride and give that woman every damn thing she wants?”
Lexi remembered her conversation with Britta. “
I know how you hate to lose an argument, Dad, but if you insist on winning this fight, you’ll lose your wife. Got that?”
“You think living with her for all these years has been easy?”
Lexi knew it had been difficult—and not just for her father. “The two of you need to see a marriage counselor. Kendra would probably appreciate—”
“Oh, no.” He shook his head, his mouth set in an angry frown. “No way am I going to any damned head-shrinker. This is a private matter between my wife and me.”
“You think everyone in town isn’t talking about it? You turned this into a topic of public gossip when you stole chew from Food Mart. Do you know how embarrassing that was for Kendra—and for Britta and me?”
He shifted in his chair, his brow furrowed.
She pressed on. “You need to get your act together. I’m not going to help you if you refuse to help yourself. I’ll fly back to Chicago and leave you to your own mess.”
He shrugged, a mask of indifference on his face. “Go ahead. I sure as hell didn’t ask for your help.”
His words struck her hard, little barbs to the heart, but she fought back her reaction. “It’s shit like this that makes Kendra sorry she spent the last twenty-five years of her life with you. You don’t care about anyone but yourself. If she divorces you, you’ll have done everything you can to deserve it.”
“Where do you get off talking to your father like that?”
She laughed—a hard, angry sound. “Oh, so now you remember you’re my father? That’s rich. For most of my life, you seemed entirely unaware of that fact.”
She turned and left the kitchen, refusing to let him see the tears in her eyes.
Chapter 9
Austin finished his foot patrol of Caribou Open Space, ate his lunch at the picnic area nearby, and then moved up the highway to Russey Ranch, one of the county’s more remote properties. He veered off the trail, heading toward the wildlife closure area, hoping to hike off his bad mood. Despite the high altitude and the exertion, he couldn’t get the argument he’d had with Hawke out of his mind. That explains why the guy with the rifle saw him first.
Bam! Bam!
Two shots rang out, whizzing past his ear, striking a large boulder behind him.
On a surge of adrenaline, he dropped to the ground and drew his firearm from its holster, his gaze searching the mountainside. He spotted the shooter about thirty feet uphill from him. The man fled west through the trees, dropping something as he ran.
Austin reached for his hand mic. “Fifty-six-twenty. Code Ten. Emergent.”
“Fifty-six-twenty, go ahead.”
“Shots fired at Russey Ranch. Requesting backup. Break.”
“Go ahead.”
“I’m about a mile west of the Russey trailhead near the Pinnacles wildlife closure area. Break.”
“Go ahead.”
“Shooter was a white male. He was armed with a rifle. He took off headed west. I no longer have a visual.”
“Fifty-six-twenty¸ copy. Do you need medical?”
It was then he noticed the trickling sensation on the side of his neck. He reached over and wiped whatever it was away, only to find blood on his fingertips.
Shit.
One of the bullets must have fragmented when it hit the rock and nicked him with a bit of shrapnel. Or maybe a piece of rock had sprayed up and gotten him. Either way, there didn’t seem to be anything embedded in his neck. Still, if he kept this from dispatch, Rick Sutherland, his boss, would have his ass.
“Affirm. I got nicked by shrapnel. Send medical non-emergent.”
“Fifty-six-twenty, I’m toning out medical, non-emergent.”
“Copy that. I’m going to evacuate to the parking lot. I’ll close the trail. Break.”
“Go ahead.”
“All units responding switch to FTAC2. I’ll be switching as well and going as Russey Command.”
“All units responding switch to FTAC2.” Dispatch came back with the time. “Thirteen-thirty-six.”
Austin reached down and switched his radio to the tactical channel, listening in as unit after unit responded. It sounded like every ranger and deputy in the county was en route. Then again, everyone loved a call that involved something more exciting than car accidents or unruly drunks. No one would want to miss out on the action.
His senses heightened by adrenaline¸ Austin tuned out the chatter in his earpiece and got into a crouch, semi-auto still in his hand. Whoever the shooter was, he was probably long gone, but Austin wasn’t willing to bet his life on that. The bastard might be sitting somewhere watching through a scope, waiting for a clear shot.
Watching for any movement on the mountainside, Austin quickly took cover behind the boulder and then moved off downhill. He worked his way back to the trail, stopping a couple of hikers who were on their way up, then closing the trail when he reached the trailhead. There were a dozen or so cars in the parking lot, which meant there were still hikers up there.
That’s just great.
Son of a bitch!
He told himself they’d be safe as long as they stuck to the trail. Whoever the shooter was, he’d headed west, away from the trail and picnic areas. Still, Austin couldn’t shake a sense of urgency. They had a shooter running around on public land, and someone needed to stop him.
He glanced at his watch. “Come on, guys. Hurry the fuck up.”
With every minute that passed, this asshole was getting farther away.
Lexi stared at the silent police scanner, pulse thrumming. Some bastard had just fired a gun at Austin. “Why isn’t anyone saying anything?”
“He’s okay, Lexi.” Megs patted her arm. “You heard him say so himself. When the sheriff’s deputies and medical arrive on the scene, there will be a lot of radio traffic. Until then, they’ll status check him every five minutes or so.”
Lexi looked at the stack of printouts in front of her, the numbers on the page no longer making sense. Her train of thought had shattered the moment she’d heard Austin say that someone had shot at him. “Does this kind of thing happen often?”
Megs seemed to study her. “I take it you and Austin have mended your fences.”
“Well, yes.” What did that have to do with anything? “Even if I hated him, I wouldn’t want people shooting at him.”
Megs lips curved in a slight smile. “Sadly, it happens more often than most people think. They forget that park rangers are law enforcement. A few years back, Larimer County lost a ranger when he came across an escaped fugitive in the backcountry.”
Lexi didn’t find this reassuring. “Will Austin go after the guy?”
“By himself?” Megs shook her head. “He’s not that stupid.”
A burst of static on the radio made Lexi jump. She listened as two sheriff’s deputies announced their arrival on the scene, followed by EMTs. Ten minutes later the EMTs announced they were finished and back in service.
“See?” Megs said. “He’s fine.”
Lexi did her best to focus on her work, making her way line by line through the budget and comparing it to actuals. Still, every time traffic came over the radio, she stopped—and listened. She heard when Austin led deputies to a backpack the shooter had dropped. She heard when helicopters and police dogs joined in the search. She heard when dogs lost the man’s trail at a nearby creek.
Even distracted as she was, she found several more incidents where Breece had apparently stolen money, this time by paying bills more than once. “Does your bank keep records of canceled checks?”
“Why?”
“I think he might have been writing checks to himself. He paid your liability insurance twice this quarter.” She pointed to the entries Breece had made in the accounts. “He also paid your March and April utility bills twice.”
Megs examined the documents. “Jesus fried chicken! That son of a bitch.”
“If the bank still has those checks, we could confirm whether or not the money went to these organizations—or whether he put it in hi
s pocket.”
“I’m on it.” Megs reached for the phone and called the bank.
Lexi took the moment to get a bottle of water from the fridge—and to call Kendra again. She’d already left two messages for her stepmother. When her call went to voice mail again, she disconnected.
So Kendra didn’t feel like talking to her. Fine.
Back in the ops room, she found Megs on the phone with the bank, a look of rage on her face.
“We’ll get the bastard somehow. Thanks, John.” Megs hung up the phone, her gaze meeting Lexi’s. “You were right. He was writing checks for cash and taking them to Food Mart, then recording the check as something else. How the hell did I miss this?”
“He took advantage of your trust, and he knew how to hide what he was doing.” Lexi sat and went back to work, one ear still listening to the radio. “You really shouldn’t blame yourself. I’ve heard of big corporations being embezzled, companies that had annual audits and all the right checks and balances. When someone is determined to steal, they can usually find a way.”
Megs listened, but Lexi could tell she wasn’t going to let herself off the hook.
Austin reached the parking lot, four frightened young women following closely behind him—the last of the hikers to be evacuated from the Russey Ranch property. They’d been skinny dipping in the wildlife closure area when deputies emerged from the scrub, rifles raised, and scared the hell out of them.
Austin wrote them each a ticket for violating the closure, explaining the ticket to them and the fine—a stiff hundred bucks. “You can pay online with a credit card or mail a check to the address on the back within twenty days from today’s date. If you choose to contest the citation, you can appear in court on this date. Here’s the address. Failure to pay the fine or appear in court will result in a warrant being issued for your arrest.”
Instead of objecting or making excuses, they sheepishly accepted their tickets, one of them even thanking him. Then they climbed into a red BMW X5 and sped away.
Sutherland, the boss man, appeared at Austin’s shoulder. “Good work today, Taylor. You’re an hour past the end of your shift. Time to head home.”
