by Cassie Miles
Did she dare to approach him? If Mace’s theories were correct, Joey was on the side of the kidnappers. He might have ordered them to bring her here for a final meeting with him.
He wasn’t moving, must be sleeping soundly. And that would be typical of Joey, dragging her here in the cold and then falling asleep.
She pushed through the gate and stalked toward him. “Joey.”
He didn’t move a muscle, even though she was directly in front of him. “Joey.”
Something was wrong.
She knelt beside him. The blanket fell from her shoulders as she reached for him.
His head lolled back. His jacket fell open, and she saw the blood. He’d been wounded. His chest was covered with blood.
Was he still alive? She felt for a pulse. His flesh was ice-cold. His long slender fingers were stiff.
Joey was dead.
Chapter Fourteen
The parking lot behind the Elkhorn Café was a crime scene. As such, it should be treated carefully, following routine procedures. Mace knew the drill. He’d taught his deputies how to use the proper investigative techniques and tools: question the witnesses; observe the scene; take photographs; collect forensic evidence. Most important was attitude. The lawman on the scene needed to maintain control of the situation, to stay calm in the face of danger.
But Mace found it nearly impossible to take his own advice. Leaving Barry in charge, he stood brooding in dark silence. His back leaned against his vehicle. His arms were folded across his chest so nobody would notice that his hands were shaking from a combination of unexpressed anger and guilt. He couldn’t think, couldn’t reason. Nicole was gone.
Nearly an hour ago, according to witness reports, she stepped outside the café to dump the garbage and she never returned. When he first saw her little red parka, hanging limp from a peg by the back door of the café, a blinding rage exploded behind his eyes. The shock and pain were physical—like being struck between the eyes by a bolt of lightning.
It took all his strength and self-control not to lash out at his deputies—Philips and Greenleaf—who were supposed to be keeping an eye on her. Instead of watching the doors, they’d gone back inside for a coffee and a slice of pecan pie.
But his anger at them was nothing compared to his own self-disgust. He should have known better than to let her out of his sight. All his promises to protect her were nothing more than empty, futile words. He’d failed. And Nicole was paying the price.
All the activity in the parking lot, the flashing lights from deputy’s cars and aggressive shouting of questions ought to produce some clues leading to a search, but Mace wasn’t hopeful. The kidnappers had eluded them at every turn. They knew how to use the vast, open landscape, disappearing like rattlesnakes slithering into their lairs. They’d taken Nicole from him. If they hurt her…
What could he do? He was stuck here without a clue, helpless and bereft.
Barry approached him. His round body moved with a sense of purpose. His beard bristled. “We got a lead.”
“What is it?”
“Somebody reported an explosion,” he said. “There’s a car on fire in a gully near Las Ranas. The guys on the scene say it’s a Jeep Wagoneer like the one the kidnappers have been driving.”
Though Mace dreaded the answer, he had to ask the question. “Any victims?”
“None.”
“Let’s go.” Mace yanked open the driver’s side door to his vehicle. There was no point in staying here; Nicole wasn’t in this area.
Barry climbed into the passenger seat and used the police radio to inform dispatch that they were headed toward Las Ranas.
Mace hit the road outside Elkhorn at top speed with his flashers going. Though this might be nothing but another dead end, it felt good to be in motion.
“You investigated in Las Ranas before,” Barry said. “Who’d you talk to?”
“Don Blackbird.” That was the afternoon when Nicole first kissed him. He licked his lips, remembering the honeyed taste of her mouth.
“Right,” Barry said. “You filed a report. You found out that Joey owes money at the casinos.”
Mace didn’t give a damn about Joey, except as he related to Nicole.
Barry continued, “Those debts are a good motive for Joey staging his own abduction. I’m also thinking Blake Wentworth might be involved. I’ll check out the calls he made on his cell phone. You think?”
“Don’t care.” Mace careered down the relatively straight stretch of road. “I don’t give a damn about the kidnapping.”
“Because you’re worried about Nicole,” Barry said.
“Damn right.”
“Then you need to start thinking like a cop. That’s what she needs right now. A good, smart cop who can figure out where she is and who took her.”
He was right. Mace needed to stop feeling and start thinking. His intuition and logic were the best way to find her, but his brain was still in shock. “Okay, partner. Help me out. What should I do?”
“You could start by slowing down.”
Mace glanced down at the dashboard. The speedometer needle was buried on the high end.
“I know we’re in a hurry,” Barry said, “but if you crash into an elk on the road, you’ll total this vehicle, and I don’t want to process the paperwork.”
Mace eased up on the gas pedal. “Better?”
“You bet.”
But his brain still wasn’t working. “Talk to me.”
“Let’s think about Las Ranas. Why would the kidnappers be there? There was something else in your report about a tube of paint or something.”
“I found it at Boot Hill,” Mace said. “Joey used to go there to paint. He used it for the background in that sick portrait of Nicole.”
In his mind he could see her walking amid the tombstones and tidying the gravesites. Later, she’d dreamed about Boot Hill. “For some reason, that site was important to Joey.”
He slammed on the brakes and whipped into a U-turn. “We’ll go there first.”
NICOLE TRIED to arrange Joey’s body, and covered him with the blanket that had been left for her by the kidnappers. His death should be respected. It seemed cruel to leave him here alone, propped against the weathered fence enclosing Boot Hill.
She whispered a prayer for him. His life had been troubled. Perhaps in death he would find peace. She hoped Joey would become a guardian angel instead of a ghostwalker, an uneasy spirit seeking revenge.
Quietly she offered her own eulogy. “You were a good friend to me, Joey. I’ll never forget you.”
She stood and took a step backward. Though still a little dizzy, the hammering inside her skull had faded to a dull ache. Her arms wrapped tightly around her midsection. In her lightweight pink uniform, she had scant protection against the night chill. Maybe she’d freeze to death. Somewhere she’d heard that hypothermia was a peaceful way to die.
Her gaze lifted toward the old tombstones. When she’d come here with Mace, she’d seen a stark charm in this setting. She understood why Boot Hill might fascinate an artist like Joey.
After the nightmare, her perception changed. Buried here, beneath ancient markers, were many of her fears, reminders of pain and her own mortality. But she didn’t want her life to end. Not now, when she finally had something to live for.
The snap of a twig startled her. “Who’s there?”
She was answered by an eerie rush of wind. The bare branches of the cottonwoods created moving shadows, stirring her darkest memories of terror and abuse. She remembered the quiet footstep in the hallway before the door crashed open. Derek’s soft voice as his caresses became hurtful.
Stepping backward again, she stumbled, catching herself before she tumbled down the embankment. Was there a threat? Were the kidnappers nearby? She almost wished they’d attack. Anything would be better than waiting for the next blow to fall.
More noise came from the dry creekbed. The dried grasses crackled.
They were coming for her.
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She had to run. Her only defense was escape. She’d been here before. She knew she couldn’t face them and win.
Her feet felt heavy as hardened cement. Her strides seemed slow motion and awkward as she dodged down the hill toward the road. But that was the worst possible route. If she stayed on the road, she’d be easy to find. That must have been what happened to Joey. After he called her and said he was okay, the kidnappers must have returned and picked him up. Then they killed him.
His murder was her fault. She should have known better than to turn over the ransom before Joey was delivered safely. But there was no time now for guilt. She had to keep going or be killed herself. And she needed to get off the road.
Looking down, she saw the white of her apron. In the night, it gleamed like a beacon. She tore off the scrap of material and threw it to the ground.
She fought for every step, dragged her feet, staggering blindly, putting distance between herself and Boot Hill.
MACE WAS THANKFUL for Barry and his sane advice. The best way to help Nicole was to be a good cop. That’s what Mace had to do. Purposefully he shut down the emotional storm that drenched his brain. The light of clarity grew within him. He became a hunter.
Trusting his gut instinct, he drove toward Boot Hill. This wasn’t the most logical place to find Nicole, but none of the kidnappers’ behavior made sense. Why had they taken her?
He posed the question to Barry, who thoughtfully stroked his beard. “Doesn’t make a trickle of sense to me. It’s not like this was a political kidnapping where they were trying to make a statement. They wanted a ransom and they got their money.”
“That’s when it should have been over,” Mace said. “Messing around with Nicole means taking an extra risk. Why would they do it?”
Grabbing Nicole had caused the entire county to mobilize. Everybody was looking for her. Which meant, Mace realized, that they weren’t looking for the kidnappers. “A distraction,” he said. “They grabbed Nicole so all our forces would be diverted. We’d all be busy looking for her.”
“You shut down the roadblocks?”
Mace nodded. The instant he heard Nicole was missing, he pulled in every lawman and volunteer who could help with search.
“That’s probably why they set fire to their own vehicle,” Barry said. “Another distraction.”
“Call Heflin,” Mace said. “Tell him to double up on his search. If the kidnappers waited until now to make their move, they can’t be more than an hour away from Elkhorn.”
He turned off his flashers about a mile before they reached Boot Hill. He parked beside the dry creekbed and left the vehicle. In the darkness his senses sharpened. He heard the small sounds of night—the wind beneath a raptor’s wing, the scurrying of night animals. The air smelled moist and putrid, like the stink of ancient, rotting corpses. Peering toward the cemetery, he saw a shape more solid than the bare branches of shrubs.
“Over there.” He pointed, then ran toward the motionless form. His boots dug into the hard earth, churning up bits of loose rock.
Leaning against the fence was a body. Not Nicole. Please don’t let this be Nicole.
Mace tore off an Army blanket covering the body of Joey Wentworth. His hands were in his lap, but the placement was strange. It looked like someone had tried to pose him after rigor mortis set in. His stringy hair had been brushed off his forehead.
Barry huffed and puffed as he came up the hill. “I’m not used to this physical stuff. I want to get back behind my desk.”
“Meet Joey.” Mace hadn’t really known Joey Wentworth when he was alive. From what Nicole had told him, they wouldn’t have liked each other, but Mace regretted this young man’s passing. Any senseless death counted as a tragedy.
“We need to let the Feds know,” Mace said. “But I don’t want them distracted from their search for the kidnappers. Give them half an hour to get in position, then call.”
“Are you sure?” Barry asked.
“That’s my decision,” Mace said. “This is a murder in Sterling County. It’s my jurisdiction.”
He entered the cemetery carefully, looking for Nicole. There were no signs of life here.
Though the earth was too hard to take footprints, he went down on one knee and studied the ground, looking for a pattern. Years of hunting on the rez with Tata Charlie taught him how to follow the spoor, how to read the patterns. There were broken stems of dried grass. He followed the trail to a larger depression. Reaching down, he touched the spot. A body might have rested here, possibly Joey. Some person or persons had walked in and out. One of them might have been Nicole.
The way Joey’s body had been arranged and the thoughtfulness of placing a blanket over a dead man reminded him of her reverence for the dead. His instinct told him that she’d been here. And now she was on the run.
There was only one road leading past this spot. She had to take it.
He charged down the hill.
“Where are you going?” Barry called out.
“I think Nicole was here. She might have tried to tidy up the body. Which indicates that—at that time—she was alone.”
“Where is she now?”
Mace reached the road. He saw a flash of white on the shoulder and ran toward it. Nicole’s apron!
She was headed south. If she was running, she’d cover a lot of ground. He needed to drive.
When he opened the car door, Barry yelled, “Hey, you’re not leaving me here, are you?”
“Somebody has to stay with the body.”
“I don’t even have my gun with me. What am I going to do if the kidnappers show up?”
“Talk them to death.” Mace unholstered his gun and tossed it toward Barry. “Now you’re armed.”
As he drove slowly, he turned on the police siren and the flashers as a signal for Nicole. If she was hiding, the noise and lights ought to draw her out.
He crept along the road. One mile. Then two. There were no houses. No signs of civilization except for a barb wire fence at one side of the road.
Leaving the flashers on, he parked the vehicle, got out and walked along the road, staring into the trees on the unfenced side. “Nicole! Are you out here?”
He went farther. With every step, he felt closer to her. If he’d believed in such things, he might have thought they were communicating telepathically. Finally he heard a weak shout.
“Nicole?”
There was a rustling in the underbrush. He turned and saw her. Her pink uniform was smeared with dirt. Her arms were scratched from tree branches, and she was nearly blue from the cold.
He’d never seen a more beautiful sight.
Before she dropped, he rushed to her and lifted her into his arms. Her body was freezing cold. First thing was to get her warmed up. He carried her toward his vehicle. In his search for her, he’d come a longer distance than he’d realized, but holding her small, fragile body was no strain. He tried to hurry, being careful not to jostle her too much.
“I thought…” She gasped. Her eyelids closed. “I thought they were coming after me.”
“Are you injured?” he asked. “Did they hurt you?”
“Drugged,” she said. “Something smelly over my nose. Didn’t want to inhale.”
Heartless bastards! They drugged her and dumped her at the cemetery, left her to freeze. All for the sake of a distraction. “You’re going to be all right.”
“I found Joey,” she murmured. “It’s all my fault. He’s dead.”
“Don’t blame yourself. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“If I’d been smarter about the ransom—”
“No.” He wouldn’t allow her to take even one baby step down this path. “You have no reason to feel guilty.”
They reached the car, and he placed her in the back seat, tore off his shearling coat and wrapped it around her. He stroked her cheek, and she shivered violently. Her skin was clammy.
“I should take you to the hospital,” he said.
She smiled
weakly. “You said that to me the first time we met. Take me to the hospital.”
“It might be best.”
“I’ll be okay.” She shook her head. “Jewel can help me. I want to go home.”
For the first time in hours Mace relaxed. She’d said “home.” She thought of his ranch as home.
When he gathered her against him, it was for his own reassurance. Her arms were limp, but she would recover, she’d regain her strength and be all right. “I’ll never let you out of my sight again.”
A deputy’s car pulled up beside them, and Barry got out. When he saw Nicole, a benevolent grin spread across his round, bearded face. “How’s she doing?”
“Half-frozen,” Mace said. “I’m taking her home with me.”
“You stay in the back,” Barry said. “I’ll drive.”
Within minutes they were on their way. Mace cradled Nicole against him. Her eyes were closed. She was resting.
Barry said, “I’ll put in a call to the doc and have him meet us at your place.”
“Good idea.” Mace spoke softly so he wouldn’t disturb Nicole. “How did you get backup?”
“I had my cell phone,” Barry said. “You really didn’t think I’d sit out in the cold waiting for you?”
“Guess not.”
“And I put in the call to Heflin about finding Joey. You’re going to have a battle with the Feds.”
A fight over jurisdiction was to be expected, but Mace didn’t expect much of a struggle. Heflin had failed on all three criteria for a kidnap operation: the victim was dead; the ransom was gone; the perpetrators were likely to escape.
It didn’t get much worse than that. Since the FBI had been in charge, they’d lost all credibility.
“Heflin was right about one thing,” Mace said. “He kept insisting that the kidnappers were professional criminals.”
“But you didn’t think so,” Barry said.
“I kept noticing the amateurish stuff. The torn-up cabin. The weird midnight meeting with Nicole.” He thought for a moment. “Even screwing around with the brake line on her car seemed childish.”
