“Good . . . thank you. But knowing Leath like I do, he’s very sneaky and manipulative.”
“All passive-aggressive behavior,” Sarah agreed. She set the paper aside and gave her an understanding look. “Right now, you need to go home and rest.” She glanced over at Roan. “Are you staying at one of the employee’s house? I’d talked to Maud about a week ago and she was telling me Shiloh was there taking a writing sabbatical.”
“Yes, she’s been at the employee house with me since she arrived,” Roan said.
Shiloh compressed her lips. “Sarah? Am I safe there in that house? What should I do? Maybe I should leave the ranch? Keep everyone there safe from Leath? Go somewhere else?”
“Well,” Sarah said, “given your warning reaction you had a couple of days ago, the law officer in me says it’s possible Leath was on Wind River Ranch property looking for you.”
A terrible, icy feeling dove down Shiloh’s spine. “And if he really was?”
“Then none of us know, for sure, whether he saw you or not. Or if he realizes you’re at the employee house. He could have asked someone. We just don’t know. And as for you leaving the Wind River Ranch? No way. You have a passel of folks who are looking out for you. They are extra sets of eyes on this problem. Any one of them could spot this guy after they’ve seen his photo.”
Shiloh glanced over at Roan and then focused on Sarah. “I don’t want anyone hurt because of me.”
“Frankly? If Leath is out here? He’s picked the wrong place to be. The state of Wyoming is traditional old West, Shiloh. We carry guns out here and we aren’t afraid to use them to defend ourselves if we’re attacked. Steve will know what to do to keep you and everyone who works on his ranch safe.”
Shiloh squirmed inwardly, not convinced. She felt a horrible guilt threading through her, knowing Leath wouldn’t think twice about killing anyone who got in his way. “So? I’m not safe there at the employee house? Right?” She glanced over at Roan, looking at the hard set of his face, his gray eyes alive with a hunter-like look. Right now, she felt him in his warrior mode. It was nothing obvious. He hadn’t tensed up. His hands were relaxed on the arms of the chair. But she felt it around him.
“Is there anywhere else you can go on the property? Someplace you can’t be so easily spotted?”
“Yes,” Roan said. “She can stay at my cabin. I’m just about finished with the construction. It’s located half a mile north of Pine Grove. There’s a dirt road to it, but it’s out in the open for a half a mile in every direction so we can see someone coming. There’s no way to sneak up on my cabin.”
Sarah looked at Shiloh. “Would you be willing to move into his cabin until we can get a handle on Leath? I know the area and it’s a great hideout.”
“Yes, I can do that. But does it mean I have to stay hidden? That I couldn’t drive into town here and pick up my groceries?”
“For now,” Sarah said, lowering her voice with apology, “it would be best if you went to ground. That you remained out of the public’s sight.”
“That’s what I thought,” Shiloh whispered, agreeing with Sarah. She gave Roan a distressed look. “I guess you’re stuck with me.”
Roan grinned a little. “There’s worse things, Shiloh. We’ll manage. All right?” he asked, and he touched her cheek momentarily, as if to calm her concerns, whatever they might be.
The touch of his fingers across her cheek sent a badly needed signal to Shiloh. She hadn’t told Roan she would move in with him. He’d asked. She hadn’t answered. Now it looked like she had no choice. Roan had to be feeling confused about where they stood with each other. And as soon she could, despite feeling exhausted, Shiloh silently promised him that she’d clear it up with him.
Sarah stood. “You have my phone number, Shiloh?” And she handed her a business card. “Put this in your cell phone address book. Also”—she looked at Roan—“Maud and Steve Whitcomb need to know what’s going down. Tell them I’ll fax them over a copy of Leath’s photo and other pertinent info. That way, they can inform their employees and everyone will be on the same page. If Leath had the balls to go to the ranch once, he’ll do it again. Especially if he saw Shiloh.”
A new shiver of terror worked down through Shiloh. She knew more than anyone else what Leath was capable of doing.
“Got it,” Roan said. He glanced at Shiloh. “And I’ll be her big, bad guard dog.”
“Good,” Sarah said, relieved. “No one better than you, Roan. I know your black ops background.” She moved her gaze to Shiloh. “You won’t get any better bodyguard than Roan, so Shiloh, get some rest. And don’t worry, we’re going to find this dirtbag. We’ll be in touch.”
“God, I hope you can catch him before he hurts me . . . or someone else. . . .”
* * *
Shiloh almost felt like a convicted felon as she moved at Roan’s side as they walked into the grocery store in Wind River. He needed to get food for the cabin and wanted her input on what to choose since she was going to be living there until Leath was apprehended. She stayed close to him in the busy grocery store. It gave her a sense of safety when there was none left for her.
The sun was behind the huge Wilson Range paralleling the sprawling ranch from the west as Roan drove them back to the Wind River Ranch. On the way there, Shiloh had been silent, her mind running a million miles an hour. Only Roan’s quiet, calm presence allowed her some respite from the dread inside her. She felt a little relief as Roan drove them onto ranch property. He parked at the employee house, having agreed that they needed to move all her luggage and other items to the cabin.
As tired as she was, Shiloh regretted leaving the employee house. She liked it. But in a way, she was more looking forward to the warmth and intimacy of Roan’s cabin. There was peace and tranquility there. And it made Shiloh feel as if she were living within his embrace whether he knew it or not. Roan would probably laugh at her, but she believed homes had energy and expression. Each had its own unique personality. And there was no question Shiloh looked forward to living beneath Roan’s roof. And being with him every night, if he’d have her.
Chapter Twenty
Roan watched the exhaustion in Shiloh’s face after they reached his cabin by truck.
“Listen,” he told her, walking to where she was putting vegetables away in the refrigerator, “why don’t you go take a hot bath? That always relaxes you.” He slid his hand beneath her elbow, easing her away from the fridge and shutting the door. “I’ll take care of the groceries,” he said, searching her darkened green eyes. Roan could see she was on overload. Who wouldn’t be? He was sure Shiloh was replaying the day Leath stabbed her mother to death. That one moment was branded into her memory for the rest of her life. The line of her mouth was tight and Roan sensed she was holding on with everything she had not to cry. Not to lose it.
“Yes,” she murmured wearily, pushing strands of hair away from her brow, “that’s a good idea. I’ll do it. Thanks, Roan.”
Roan released her, watching her walk, almost weave, across the living room and down the hall to the bathroom. She’d forgotten to take her clothes so he picked up her luggage, carrying it to his bedroom. Opening it on his bed, he pulled out what he thought she might need, including a large bag that had her toiletry items in it.
Knocking lightly on the door, Roan called her name. “I thought you might like these things,” he said through the door. How badly Roan wanted to just walk in, gather Shiloh in his arms, and give her a sense of safety. He knew he could do that for her, even if it was just temporary.
Shiloh opened the door, dressed in her silk camisole and panties. “Oh . . . gosh, I’m not thinking.” She reached out for the items, giving him a grateful look. “Thanks, Roan.”
“Take a long soak,” he advised. Roan was learning that Shiloh put on a mask of sorts around him. It wasn’t done on purpose, it was just her reaction to a threat. He knew she needed to cry and he could see the tears banked in her eyes. She was still fighting them. Aching to
help her, not knowing how, he stepped away and turned, heading toward the kitchen.
As soon as he had the groceries put away, he closed the drapes in the living room and bedroom. Night was coming on quickly. In the kitchen, he pulled the curtains closed across the windows. He didn’t think Leath was on the property, but Roan didn’t want anyone to be able to look into the cabin from the outside. Especially at night. The landline phone he had installed in the kitchen rang. Walking over, he picked it up and answered it.
“It’s Sarah,” she said. “We’ve got a hit from that list you provided us earlier. One of my deputies went over to a local B and B, showing Leath’s photo to the owners. The owners said a man that looked similar to him had left three days ago. And the name on the Wind River list is the same one he used at the B and B.”
Scowling, Roan asked, “What do you mean looked similar?”
“The owners said he did not have blond hair. He had longish dark brown hair and a beard. Same color of eyes, same face shape, mouth and nose, however. And same height and build. I’ve got my deputy going over that room with our forensics team to see if we can lift some fingerprints. That would confirm whether or not it was Leath.”
“Are you going to update the photo?”
“Yes. I’ve asked the woman, who had the most face time with Leath, to come down here tomorrow morning and work with our artist. Once she has something we can use, we’ll e-mail out the updated one on Leath. We still can’t be sure until and if we find fingerprints to prove it.”
“I understand,” Roan said. “Where did he go?”
“The owners said he was quiet and didn’t say much and that he had a black nylon gym bag with him. Leath went over to the Barton Gym on Sixth Street like clockwork every morning for an hour and a half. I guess Leath is in top physical shape. And I’ve got another deputy going over to talk with Mike Barton, the owner of the gym, to see if he can identify Leath with the present photo. So, we have a lot going on.”
“A lot of possibilities,” Roan agreed. “So where is Leath now?”
“Good question. He didn’t tell the B and B owners where he was going.”
“What about a vehicle?”
“He had a rental car from the Jackson Hole Airport. We’re chasing that lead down too.”
Some relief flowed through Roan. “I’m going to call Maud and Steve and fill them in shortly.”
“Good. If anything else breaks this evening, I’ll be calling you, Roan.”
“That will help.”
“How’s Shiloh doing?”
Roan looked over his shoulder, making sure she wasn’t in the living room or could hear his reply. “Rugged. Needs to cry and get it out of her system. She’s scared.”
“Understandable. This is enough pressure to kill a horse. I’m sure she’s replaying her mother being murdered by this bastard, thinking she’s next.”
Grimly, Roan said, “It’s not going to happen. Not while I’m around.”
“You got any security system installed in your cabin?”
“Not yet, but I will.”
“Okay, I’ve got another call coming in from my forensics team. I’ll be in touch.”
Roan hung up the phone. He could hear water running in the bathroom, Shiloh filling up that deep tub. Maybe a long, hot soak would help her relax. It wasn’t going to take away her worry or the threat of Leath being around, but it would be comforting.
He’d fixed a couple of pork chops, steamed some Brussels sprouts, and made a salad by the time Shiloh emerged from the bathroom. Hearing the door open, Roan looked up from setting the table in the dining room. Shiloh had chosen her white capris, a simple green tee with long sleeves, and was barefoot. Her hair was loose and free around her shoulders, the ends curled from the steam.
“Hey, you feel like eating a little something?” he asked.
Wrinkling her nose, Shiloh came over to him. “Not really, but I know I need to eat whether I feel like it or not.”
Roan could smell the light scent of oranges on her soft, moist-looking skin. He knew she loved citrus fragrance and had a body lotion she used regularly after taking a bath or shower. “I made a salad.”
“I think I could stomach that,” Shiloh said. She looked toward the kitchen. “It feels like a home now.”
“What does?” he wondered, walking with her to the kitchen.
“The smell of the different foods in the air. Like someone is living here full time,” she said, giving him a strained smile. “Sort of like bread baking in the oven and the odor permeates the house with that great smell.”
“Would you like something to drink?” Roan had in mind a stiff belt of whiskey but he doubted whether she’d go for that. Shiloh wasn’t a hard liquor drinker.
“No. I’m wigged out enough over everything,” she muttered. Opening the fridge, she said, “I think I’ll just have some tomato juice. How about you?”
Roan lifted the meat out of the skillet and placed them on a platter. “Sounds good. I’ll take a glass too.” He didn’t like the pallor in Shiloh’s face. The skin across her cheekbones was stretched and tight. Roan could feel the anxiety riffling around her, feeling damned helpless.
When she poured the tomato juice into the glasses, he saw a fine tremble of her fingers. Shiloh was trying to keep it together. What other choice did she have? As he put the food on the table and gave her a salad, Roan wondered if this was how she was those six months in her apartment. Most likely. It was a terrible way to live. To know you were being hunted daily.
“This is wonderful,” Shiloh told him as he seated her at the table, gesturing to the colorful salad. She forced a smile as he walked over and sat down at her right elbow. “Our first meal in your cabin.”
Roan pulled the dark blue linen napkin across his lap. “It is. I hadn’t thought of it like that.” How like Shiloh to note such things. They were emotional landmarks, he supposed, not something he was tied into. Maybe it was a woman’s prerogative? Roan tried to be circumspect about watching how much Shiloh ate. She picked at the salad, not really hungry. He decided to tell her about Sarah’s call. When he finished with the information, she looked a tad better. Probably because things were moving and people were actively involved in trying to prove Leath was around the town.
“When do you think Sarah will know about the fingerprints?”
Roan opened his mouth to speak when the phone rang. He excused himself and walked into the kitchen to answer it.
“This is Sarah.”
“Yes?”
“My forensics team ran the prints they found in that B and B room. It’s confirmed that it’s Anton Leath.”
Roan turned, seeing tension on Shiloh’s face as she listened to the call. She had wrapped her arms around her waist, tense. “That’s good. At least we know now, for sure.” He knew Shiloh would feel the full weight of the information, and wanted to try to protect her from it. There was no way around telling her. “What now?”
“We ran the information on the rental Leath picked up from the Jackson Hole Airport. He used the same alias there as he did at the B and B and later, at the Wind River Ranch. We’ve e-mailed a copy of Leath with blond hair to every motel, hotel, and B and B in the area. We’ve added that he’s dyed his hair brown and now he has a beard.”
“So, if he’s around, you’ll find him.”
“That’s what I’m hoping. I just got done having a long, involved talk with his probation officer. Leath isn’t without funds. He has an offshore bank account in the Bahamas. Before this guy murdered Isabella Gallagher, he was a multimillionaire construction corporation owner. The officer said that according to court testimony, as Shiloh told us, Leath threatened her with death after being sentenced. He told her she was going to die like her mother did. And this gets worse, Roan. Leath has been a big-time African game hunter. He has hundreds of trophies over the years. He also owned a weapons arsenal.”
“So, the man knows how to shoot.” A cold chill went through Roan.
“Accord
ing to the officer, at one time Leath was on the Olympic shooting team, rifle competition. He’s a sniper, Roan. Pure and simple.”
Gut clenching, Roan knew exactly what that meant. “That big black gym bag that the B and B owner saw?”
“Yes.”
“It could have been his weapons bag,” Roan said in a lower tone. He knew Shiloh was listening. He wished mightily she wasn’t within earshot.
“I hadn’t thought of that, but you’re an operator and you’ve carried your weapons around with you on deployment.”
“Right. Could you get someone to ask her roughly the size of it? It would be helpful to me.”
“I can. Also, Leath, because he’s a criminal, he cannot legally buy weapons.”
Snorting, Roan muttered, “And that stops no one who really wants to get them. Leath could have a shill buy whatever he wants. Have you thought of checking the gun stores in Jackson Hole? The one here in Wind River? Faxing all of them Leath’s photo?”
“Already done. We’re also going to get a list of weapons from each store that have been bought in the last three weeks. The officer figures Leath probably headed west about that time. He’s missed three check-in dates.”
Roan nodded, sensing Shiloh’s building anxiety. “Okay, sounds good. Let’s stay in touch.” There was so much more he wanted to discuss with Sarah, but not in front of Shiloh. He knew by now she was a major worrier and for her to hear what he wanted to say to the deputy would probably do nothing but terrorize her further. Leath was a sniper. That’s all Roan needed to know. It put everything into perspective. Leath was truly a stalker; he’d hunted big game in Africa. The man knew how to move quietly, in the shadows, come upon the wild game, fire his big rifle, and take the animal down.
This time, Roan understood the full picture. Leath was out to stalk, wait for the right opportunity, to place unsuspecting Shiloh in his sights and kill her. And he could do it from a long distance. Even as far as a mile away since he was really a sniper-quality shooter. And since Leath had been on the Olympic team, Roan had no question that he could be a mile from his intended quarry and hit his target. Worse, Leath could use armor-piercing rounds. They could go through a window, a door . . . And he shut it all down as he turned and saw the terror in Shiloh’s eyes.
Wind River Wrangler Page 26
