Restless Spirit

by Cassie Miles

  “You’re right. I don’t.” She finished her sandwich. “But I truly care about what happens to Joey. What should I do to help?”

  “You could start by telling the truth,” he said.

  “I haven’t lied to you.”

  He remembered how nervous she’d been when he’d asked if there was someone who wanted to do her harm. “You didn’t become a waitress at the Elkhorn Café because you needed a break from stress. You’re hiding from someone. Who’s after you?”

  Her full lips pressed together in a straight, obstinate line. She’d had enough time to gather her emotional resources and rebuild her emotional barriers which—he realized—were considerable.

  Her chin lifted. “Joey’s kidnapping has nothing to do with me.”

  His gaze searched her face. For a moment he was distracted by her innate physical charms. Though she wore no makeup and kept her hair in a plain braid, Nicole was pretty as a movie star. Her forehead, cheekbones and jawline were perfectly proportioned in a heart-shaped face. Her warm beauty made a good disguise for cold, hard lies. “Do you have a criminal record, Nicole?”

  “I was arrested twice before I was eighteen,” she admitted. “Minor stuff. I was at a party where everybody got arrested for disturbing the peace. Another time, I got picked up for trespassing.”

  From his experience in the Denver PD, Mace knew the likely cause for a minor to be arrested for trespassing. “You were a runaway.”

  “I was almost seventeen. Old enough to be on my own.”

  “Not legally.” He wondered what kind of dangerous compromises she’d made to survive. “Tell me what you’re hiding. After I call in the FBI, they’ll learn all your secrets.”

  “The Feds don’t scare me,” she said. “Not as much as you do.”

  Her blue eyes flickered, and he caught a glimpse of her hidden fear. “Why do I scare you?”

  “You’re different from most cops. They want to make a collar and rack up another arrest on their record. You’re not like that. You’re after the truth.”

  It was the highest compliment she could have given him. Therefore, he was suspicious. “Are you playing me?”

  Her full lips curved in a grin. “You’ll never know.”

  “Never is a long time,” he said. “But I’m a patient man.”

  And he would find the truth. Even if it meant trapping her in a sack like a trickster jackrabbit.

  He turned away from her. Using his cell phone, Mace made his call to the FBI field office in Denver. After several transfers, he finally got through to the proper person. Special Agent Luke Heflin asked, “What makes you think this is a kidnapping, Sheriff?”

  “We have a missing person, Joey Wentworth, and a ransom demand for eight hundred thousand.”

  “Where was he snatched?”

  “His roommate found their cabin ransacked and called 9-1-1.” Mace glanced over at Nicole. “I was here when the ransom call came through.”

  “Did you talk to the kidnappers?”

  “No, sir,” Mace said. “And we haven’t yet notified the person in Denver who’s supposed to get the cash and bring it to Elkhorn.”

  Mace outlined what he thought should be the next logical steps: keep the cabin under guard until an expert forensic team from the FBI could investigate. Have incoming phone calls to the cabin routed to somewhere else where Nicole could answer if the kidnappers called again. “And we should immediately notify the person who is supposed to put together the ransom money.”

  Nicole stood beside him. “Mace, I need to tell you something. It’s important.”

  He didn’t appreciate her interruption. “What?”

  “Joey said I should be the one to talk to his uncle. He told me not to screw it up. I have to make the call.”

  Mace informed Agent Heflin about her concern. The agent said he would hook up a three-way connection with Nicole. “Put her on the line.”

  As Mace handed over his cell phone, he was keenly aware that he’d already been taken out of the loop. The Feds were in charge.

  NICOLE HELD THE cell phone to her ear. Her other arm wrapped tightly below her breasts, her fingers clenched into a fist. Though she’d managed to maintain a calm appearance, she was intensely nervous, sweating. Under her bangs, her forehead was damp. Concern for Joey was foremost in her mind, but talking to his uncle ranked high on the anxiety scale.

  Joey’s uncle, Blake Wentworth, was the CEO of Wentworth Oil Exploration—a company that Joey acronymed to WOE. Though Nicole had never met Uncle Blake, he was a wealthy man and, therefore, might be acquainted with her former husband in Denver. Contact with Blake Wentworth put her one step closer to Derek on a dangerous path she had no desire to follow.

  After the FBI agent spoke to Uncle Blake and informed him that there was an apparent kidnapping, he introduced Nicole.

  “I spoke to Joey on the phone,” she said.

  “Who the hell are you?” he demanded.

  “My name is Nicole Ferris.” Though her married name was Brewer, she’d never changed her social security number and driver’s license. There was no way Blake might connect her to Derek through her name.

  “Why did Joey call you?” he asked.

  “I’m his roommate. I’ve been staying at the cabin since springtime, paying him rent.”

  “He never mentioned you.”

  Silently, she blessed Joey. She’d asked him not to tell anyone about her, and he’d lived up to that promise.

  “Wait,” Blake said. “Are you the girl in the paintings? The blonde with the braid?”

  Nicole said, “I’ve posed for Joey.”

  “I’ve got one of the canvases,” Blake said. “It’s the best Joey’s ever done. If you look anything like this picture, you’re very lovely.”

  “Thank you.” She thought it odd that Uncle Blake hadn’t inquired about the well-being of his kidnapped nephew. He seemed almost uninterested in Joey’s fate.

  “Mr. Wentworth,” Special Agent Heflin cut in. “Nicole has more information regarding the details of your nephew’s abduction.”

  “All right,” Blake said irritably. “Tell me the bad news. What’s the ransom?”

  “Eight hundred thousand dollars.” She consulted the notes she’d written about her call from Joey. “In unmarked bills. You’re supposed to bring the cash to Elkhorn and wait for further instructions.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  How could he even think of not complying? “Joey will be hurt. He might already be injured. I found blood on the floor in his studio.”

  Blake Wentworth cursed under his breath. “Agent Heflin, what do you advise?”

  “Is it possible for you to raise that kind of money?” Heflin asked.

  “Yes. Joey’s parents are dead, and I’m the executor of their estate. They created a trust for Joey, and it’s possible for me to access necessary funds in an emergency. But it won’t be easy to withdraw that amount.”

  “Can you have the money tomorrow?”

  “I’ll need to talk to my attorney,” Blake said. “But I have another thought. My company carries insurance against kidnapping. We might be able to go that route.”

  “Why do you have insurance against kidnapping?”

  “I’m the CEO of Wentworth Oil Exploration. We work in several third-world countries where there’s a strong possibility of terrorist activity. I took out the insurance policies to protect my family and key employees, but I’m not sure if Joey is covered.”

  “It’d be lucky for you if he is,” said Agent Heflin.

  “I’ll look into it.”

  “In the meantime, I advise following the kidnappers’ instructions. Get the money together and plan for a trip to Elkhorn tomorrow.”

  Blake swore again. He seemed more annoyed than concerned, and Nicole felt herself hardening against this man who ought to care about what happened to his nephew. Blake’s cruel attitude reminded Nicole of her own childhood rejections, and she ached in her heart for Joey. Her weird, wealthy roommate
shared more in common with her than she’d realized. In a way, Joey was as neglected and abused as she had been when her mother remarried and her stepfather turned her life into a living hell.

  While Blake and Agent Heflin made arrangements to meet in Elkhorn, she listened. Her sense of outrage increased. These two men sounded as if they were discussing a business transaction—setting up an itinerary, exchanging phone contacts. They didn’t say one word about Joey’s terror and the potential danger to him.

  “Excuse me,” she interrupted. “Do you need any more information from me?”

  “Not at present,” the agent said. “Put the sheriff back on the line.”

  When she thrust the cell phone toward Mace, a look passed between them. In contrast to Uncle Blake and the FBI agent, the sheriff’s dark eyes shone with empathy. She wished he were handling the investigation. At least Mace gave a damn.

  Cell phone in hand, he stood at the kitchen counter, occasionally leaning forward to jot a few words into a small spiral notebook. Utterly absorbed in his conversation, he seemed unaware that she existed, and Nicole studied him, trying to decide if the sheriff was a threat or a savior.

  His thumb hitched in the pocket of his Levi’s, and his shearling jacket pulled aside, revealing his long, lean torso. At the collar of his blue work shirt, she saw the gleam of a Ute-designed necklace. Turquoise and black beads separated oblongs of silver. Directly below his Adam’s apple was a silver bear totem, a symbol of good fortune.

  Her gaze slid down the length of his body. Even in casual clothing, he had dressed with care, almost as if he were wearing his sheriff’s uniform. The buttons of his shirt lined up exactly with his silver belt buckle and the seam of his Levi’s. His square-toed cowboy boots were muddy on the soles and polished on top. She looked up from the floor, all the way up his long, straight legs.

  Nicole realized she was staring at his crotch and glanced away. She couldn’t allow herself to be attracted to him. Any thought of sexuality must be quashed immediately. Yet a ripple of anticipation stirred her blood. It had been a long time since she’d felt this way. She’d almost forgotten what it was like to be excited by a good-looking man. Life had taught her that men were her enemies. They were animals. She’d never had a relationship that didn’t end in pain.

  Yet her eyes were drawn to Mace. To his strong profile. To his dark eyes. His lips enticed her. What would it be like to kiss him? What would he taste like? She wondered if his chest was smooth or hairy.

  For goodness’ sake, stop! She was no better than Uncle Blake or the FBI agent who concentrated on their own business instead of thinking of Joey. She needed to focus on her roommate and forget about the studly sheriff who tantalized her nascent desires.

  A relationship with Mace—sexual or otherwise—was out of the question. She intended to leave Elkhorn as soon as possible. When Joey was safe, she’d be gone. On the run again.

  She heard the front door to the cabin open, and she darted into the living room. Barry Thompson shuffled inside. Standing in the middle of her ransacked living room, he set down two metal toolboxes, politely removed his cowboy hat and ran his gloved hand across his bald scalp. In his red-and-black-plaid wool jacket with his jeans tucked into the top of galoshes, he didn’t look anything like an official of the sheriff’s department.

  Through his full beard, Barry offered her a bashful smile. “How you doing, kiddo? Hanging in there?”

  “Just barely,” she said.

  “Don’t you worry.” He removed his wire-rimmed glasses and wiped away the condensation caused by coming inside from the cold. “If anybody can get this mess straightened out, it’s Mace.”

  She thought so, too. Unfortunately, the FBI seemed to be edging Mace out of the picture. “I think the FBI is taking over.”

  “Ouch,” Barry said. “The sheriff isn’t going to like that. Not one iota.”

  “He’s protective about what happens around here. He seems to really care.”

  “Sometimes he cares too much,” Barry said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “He’s never been somebody who puts in his hours and goes home. Me and Mace were partners when we were with the Denver PD, and I never clocked so much overtime in my life. Mace wouldn’t give up on a case until he’d tracked down every single lead.”

  She was glad to hear of his determination. Having Mace involved boded well for Joey. “What about the FBI?”

  Barry leaned close and spoke in a confidential tone. “If they’re not doing what he thinks is right, he’ll find a way around them. You see, Mace understands the difference between law enforcement and true justice. A good cop follows regulations and fills in the blanks. A lawman tries to do what’s right no matter what the rules advise.”

  She liked his philosophical description. “Are you saying that Mace is willing to break the law?”

  “You didn’t hear that from me, missy.” Barry went down on one knee and opened his toolbox. Inside was a lot of interesting-looking equipment. “One time I saw him bend the regulations to rescue a kid from abusive parents. Another time he released a woman who shoplifted groceries, and hooked her up with the right people at social services.”

  Mace sounded too good to be true. If Nicole had run into a cop like him when she was growing up, her calamitous life might have turned out differently.

  Barry continued, “It wasn’t until he moved back to Elkhorn and got himself elected sheriff that he could really put his brand of compassionate justice into effect.”

  Compassionate justice. What a lovely concept!

  Mace ended his phone call and came toward them. Though he seemed utterly in control, a muscle in his jaw twitched. The frown lines between his dark eyes deepened to furrows. “The Feds are arriving tomorrow,” he said. “Also Blake Wentworth will be here with the ransom money.”

  “Flying?” Barry asked.

  “That’s right,” Mace said. “We’re not going to do a full forensic workup on this crime scene. But I would like you to sweep for bugs.”

  “Why?” Nicole asked.

  “The kidnappers told you that they were watching. They might be listening, too.”

  He led Barry into the kitchen and pointed to the wall phone. “The kidnappers called on that phone. Do a trace, get prior phone records and forward calls from this phone to my place.”

  “Your place?” Nicole asked. “But I need to answer the phone if Joey calls again.”

  “That’s right.” His gaze rested upon her. “I’m taking you home with me, Nicole.”

  Going home with Mace was definitely not in her plans. She needed to be free, ready to flee if the investigation got uncomfortable.

  Stepping out of the way while Barry fumbled around with his electronic equipment, she said, “I prefer to stay here. This is my home.”

  “This is a crime scene. You’ll have to leave.”

  “Then I’ll stay at a motel.” But how would she pay? The only money she had was tips from tonight. Less than sixty bucks. “The sheriff’s department should pay for my room since—”

  “A motel isn’t safe unless you’re guarded, and I don’t have the manpower to spare. You’ll come home with me so I can keep an eye on you.”

  “Why do you think there’s danger?”

  “I don’t like to take chances,” he said. “At my place you can take a shower, relax and sleep in a comfortable bed.”

  His bed? The thought flitted across her mind, and she shook her head to erase the sensual images of Mace lying naked on white sheets. His long torso. His wide shoulders. His black hair… “No,” she said. “It doesn’t seem like a good idea.”

  “My sister, Jewel, lives with me,” he said. “So you don’t need to worry about your reputation.”

  “Found one!” Barry said. He held a small metal disc between his thumb and forefinger. “It’s a short-range bugging device.”

  A shiver curled down her spine. “The kidnappers were listening?”

  “Oh, yeah.” Barry seemed very plea
sed with himself. “This bug isn’t real sophisticated. Most electronics stores carry stuff like this for the amateur spy.”

  The idea of being spied on—by amateurs or professionals—disturbed her. The tiny silver disc made the threat of danger more real. “All right, Mace. I’ll come with you.”

  “Get your jacket.”

  “Can I pack some of my other clothes?”

  “Don’t touch anything,” he said. “My sister is about your size. She’ll have something you can wear.”

  Nicole went into her ransacked bedroom and picked up her red parka which was still wet from her long walk to the cabin. Quickly she glanced around. It seemed unlikely that she’d ever live here again.

  Though Mace had ordered her not to touch anything, she had a few precious belongings that she couldn’t bear to leave behind: a ratty wool scarf that her grandmother had knitted; a small leather-bound diary; and a framed wedding photograph of her parents. She kissed the glass on the picture. It pleased her to see them together, happy and young and unaware of their cruel fate. Both mother and father were dead. Too soon, they had joined the angels.

  She stuffed the items in her purse and hurried to meet Mace. She’d lost so many important people in her life—everyone she cared about. Silently she prayed Joey would be safe.

  Chapter Four

  If she hadn’t been so worried about Joey, Nicole would have enjoyed her ride in Mace’s Explorer, with the sheriff logo on the door and the red and blue flashers mounted on the roof and the police radio tucked under the dashboard. Of course, she’d been in cop cars before…but never in the front seat.

  As he drove from the shelter of tall, frost-rimmed pines onto the paved two-lane asphalt, Mace glanced over at her. “How are you holding up?”

  “I’m fine.” A little nervous, a little anxious to get out of town. “Joey’s going to be okay, isn’t he?”

  “If this kidnapping is motivated purely by money and Blake Wentworth is willing to pay, Joey’s odds are good. If there’s something else involved, I can’t predict.”

  They drove past her little blue Escort on the shoulder of the road. Only a few hours ago her major problem was running out of gas. “What do you mean when you say that something else might be involved?”