by D. V. Berkom
“Then what?”
“The mine collapsed. Sterling didn’t make it. I dug my way out and got a ride into town.”
“Tell me who gave you the ride and I’ll contact them.”
My heart sank as the realization hit me that the old guy was the only witness who could corroborate my story.
“I didn’t get his name.” Anguish replaced exhaustion. Cole had to believe me. I opened the blanket to show him the rope burns and the cuts and scrapes on my hands and feet.
He leaned forward, his eyes darkening. “Would you be able to find the mine again?”
“I think so. I was so exhausted, I fell asleep on the way home, but I paid attention to the road signs up to that point. If you give me a map, I can work backwards and try to pinpoint the area.”
“Simon’s explanation’s a little different than yours.”
“Oh?”
“When you didn’t come back from the powder room, I went looking for you. I found Simon. Or more likely, he found me. He told me he hadn't seen you.” Cole’s eyes narrowed. “We need to get you in for a blood and urine analysis. There will be traces of the drug Simon used in your system." He reached over and took my hands in his. His warmth radiated into my body, along with a trace of something that might have been me feeling hopeful. He searched my face. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”
“You couldn’t have known.” I gave him a tentative smile. I almost added, and you believe me. That’s all that matters.
"Once you figure the location, I'll contact search and rescue and have them go into the mine if it's stable, see if they can recover the body." He shook his head. "You should have told me about Sterling when everything started going sideways. I might have been able to prevent him from getting to you."
“I know. I was afraid.”
"Afraid of what? I think you'd be afraid of a guy like Sterling and would want all the help you could get."
"I was afraid to tell you about my past. I’ve been doing all right to this point. There hasn't been any trouble. And to be honest with you, I didn’t think it was him.” I didn't bother to tell him I was more afraid of losing the life I’d built in Durm than being scared of the bad guys. Bad guys I could deal with. It's a tangible threat; some guy wants you dead, you run away and hide or fight back. The fear of losing my sense of belonging somewhere, of not having to live like a ghost, was difficult to explain.
“Do you believe Sterling killed the passengers and sabotaged your Jeep?”
“I didn’t get a chance to ask, but it's possible. The Jeep, yes. I'm not sure what his reasons were for killing, though, other than to send me a message.”
I watched him process this new information about the murders, about me, as though with his whole body, not just his mind. He appeared to pull into himself, arms still crossed in front of him. I'd spent so many years not being able to trust anyone it had become ingrained and to my addled, sleep-deprived brain, it looked like he was going into lockdown. I didn’t know how to keep him from pulling away.
"I'm exhausted. Can we meet later, after I've had a chance to rest? I'm feeling a little overwhelmed at the moment and I'm not sure I'm making sense."
"Yeah,” he nodded, “of course. But first we need to get you in for a blood draw. After that, I'll have to take your statement about what happened while it's still fresh. Then you can sleep for as long as you need to." He'd gone into sheriff mode, efficient and gruff.
Cole brought me back to Art and Barb's after the blood draw and filing the report. I tried to pinpoint where I thought the mine was and thought I came pretty close, but we wouldn’t know until Search and Rescue had gone in and located the body, or at least found Sterling’s car.
I fell into bed, exhausted, and didn’t wake up until late afternoon. After thinking it through and against Art and Barb’s protests, I decided to move back to my trailer. With Sterling out of the picture, I was no longer in any danger. Even Art agreed there wasn’t any reason I couldn’t start leading tours without Armand along to babysit.
I needed my life back.
When Cole found out, he advised against me moving until they found Sterling’s body. I argued that I was certain Sterling hadn’t made it out of the mine alive and that my staying at Art’s put an undue burden on my boss and his wife. Cole didn’t agree.
“Until we find the body, you could still be in danger.”
“I appreciate your concern, but Sterling’s dead, Cole. No more danger. I’ll keep checking the vehicles and keep my eyes open for anything suspicious, but there isn't any reason for someone to kill me. Not now.”
To tell the truth, I was too damned tired of living in fear, waiting for something to go wrong. That was no way to live. Cole might think otherwise, but I knew the truth. Sterling was dead. Anaya was still in prison, and Salazar would have killed me already if he wanted to.
I just wanted to get on with living out whatever time I had left.
SIX
A few days later, I was back to my old life, leading tours and living on my own. Cole called to tell me the initial lab results were in and asked if I'd stop by and meet with him.
I arrived at the Sheriff’s office and said a quick hello to Cecelia. She buzzed me into the back and I walked down the hallway, stopping at the entrance to Cole’s office. He looked up and said hello, and waved me into the chair across from him.
I dropped my backpack on the floor next to me and sat down.
“How are things going?” he asked.
“Good. Business picked up. I’m back on the job. Art’s a happy man.”
He shuffled through the papers on his desk and pulled one out, placing it on top of the pile. Then he cleared his throat.
“First things first. The lab results came back and it looks like Simon used Rohypnol.”
“Rohypnol. You mean ruffies? The date rape drug?”
He nodded. “We got a warrant and searched his office, but didn’t find anything. His home, on the other hand, was a different story. We found a bottle that contained several tablets in a wall safe. We arrested him this morning.”
Relief flowed through me. Another problem solved. I’d been worried Simon might try something once he’d found out I’d survived Sterling. The look on Cole’s face told me that finding the ruffies wasn’t everything.
“And?” I asked.
Cole cleared his throat again. His expression sharpened. “There’s one more thing.” He leaned forward, his hands clasped in front of him on the desk. “Who are you, Kate?”
My smile froze. A microsecond later I recovered and cocked my head to the side.
“What do you mean? You know full well who I am.”
He shook his head. “I ran your social and you’ve got no work history before Hard Rock Country Jeep Tours. That seemed odd, so I ran your credit history. Nothing. No passport, no utility bills, nada. I checked several other states. It’s like you didn’t exist before you came to Durm. You need to tell me what’s going on, Kate. If that’s even your name.” He sat back in his chair and crossed his arms.
What was I going to tell him? My mind raced for something plausible, something that didn’t start with I was incredibly stupid and end with goodbye.
A tiny, insistent thought came to me that maybe I could trust him. That maybe we could keep this between us and I wouldn’t have to leave again.
I was tired. Tired of living a lie with everyone I met. Tired of looking over my shoulder, of doing everything on my own. Maybe, just this once, I could actually let someone in on my secrets. The idea engulfed me like a bonfire and I could feel the walls I’d built around myself start to crumble.
Cole sat quietly, watching my face. I searched his eyes for an answer. Then, something inside of me cracked. I took a deep breath.
“My name isn’t Kate Evans. Or actually, it is at the moment. I’ve had others. Jones was the first one.” I watched him, but his expression didn’t change. “The person I told you about that I knew in Mexico? Let’s just say he was not a good roma
ntic choice for me. I ended up on his bad side and he tried to kill me. I made a deal with the DEA and testified against him, his boss and Sterling. In exchange, the DEA got me out of Mexico and helped me start a new life. I’ve been moving from place to place ever since, changing my name, trying to stay a step ahead.” My mouth had gone dry. I pulled a water bottle from my pack and took a drink.
“So you’re in the Witness Protection program? Don’t they usually set you up somewhere with a new identity and a job?”
I shook my head. “I opted against it. Salazar or Anaya had an informant in the Mexican government or the DEA field office. They never found out which.”
“Why didn’t you tell me before? This isn’t something a person should carry on their own.” He sat forward in his chair, concern evident on his face. “When’s the last time you contacted your family?”
Memories of an emotional phone call ten years earlier from a payphone in Mexico to my sister, Lisa, clouded my mind. It was the last time I’d spoken with anyone from my family in Minnesota. It didn’t end well. I couldn’t contact any of them. I’d never forgive myself if I put them in danger. I told myself it was part of the price I had to pay for my sins.
“It’s been a while,” I said.
Cole studied me for a moment. His features softened. “What are you doing tomorrow night?”
Surprised, I shifted in my chair. “I'm booked until five. Why?”
“How would you like to come over for dinner? I’m a pretty good cook and I’d be eating alone since the kids are at their mother’s in Phoenix.”
Another piece of the wall fell away.
“I’d love to. What time?”
***
I took a wrong turn trying to find Cole's house, but finally got it on the second try. I'd stopped at Wilma's Café to pick up a nice bottle of red that she assured me would go with anything.
Cole lived a few miles out of town in a well-kept neighborhood located along Rattlesnake Ridge with a great view of town and Mount Delight. It was a clear night with plenty of stars visible already. The house stood near the top of the ridge, nestled among the pines and had an Asian influence combined with rough-hewn timber accents. It looked rustic but elegant at the same time. I went to the front door and rang the bell.
Somewhere inside I heard Cole yell, "Come on in. The door's open."
The slate entrance opened onto a large living room with an open-beam cathedral ceiling and gleaming hardwood floors. A fireplace stood at one end, with a cozy fire already lit. Soft music played in the background and something smelled wonderful. I breathed in deeply and my stomach growled. I pulled off my coat and placed it on a chair by the hall table and slipped off my shoes.
"I'm in here." His voice came from the back.
Carrying the bottle of wine I walked toward his voice, checking out the art on the walls. His taste definitely ran toward well-crafted landscapes, but every now and then was something surprising; a surrealist portrait of a woman here, a colorful modern piece there. He had a couple of bronzes and some Native American pottery along with hundreds of books on shelves and tables. Pretty impressive. It looked like Cole wasn't your average, beer guzzling, sports watching kind of guy.
But then, I knew that.
The hallway veered to the left and opened onto the kitchen. Cole was over by the stove, basting a chicken that looked close to done. He'd set two small plates, wine glasses, napkins and silverware on the center island. He turned and smiled at me.
"Have a seat. I'll be done in a second."
I sidled up to one of the bar stools and set the bottle of wine on the counter. Taking the chance to observe the back of Cole's neck and broad shoulders, my gaze travelled down along his tapered waist to his narrow hips, fine ass…
He turned around and I snapped back to attention, a little too late. His eyes danced as he moved over to the sink to wash his hands.
"I hope you're hungry, because I made a lot of food."
"I was born hungry."
Opening the lower of the two ovens, he slid the chicken onto a rack and closed the door with his foot. He pulled a corkscrew out of a drawer and proceeded to open the bottle of wine. After pouring some for each of us, he set the bottle on the counter and raised his glass.
"To the start of a beautiful evening."
I smiled and touched my glass to his. His eyes were the same shade of blue as the Atlantic Ocean and so intense I had to look away. Damn, he made me nervous. Good thing the timer on the stove went off.
Cole reached for a hot pad, opened the upper oven and pulled out crisp brown quesadillas. He sliced them and retrieved bowls of sour cream, salsa and guacamole from the refrigerator, placing them on the island. Then he came around and sat beside me.
"Great wine," he said, pulling the bottle closer so he could read the label.
That old familiar feeling switched on as I got a whiff of his aftershave. A tingle of anticipation started in my toes and spread rapidly. I willed myself to say something witty, but my brain wouldn’t cooperate.
"It was Wilma's recommendation. I wasn't sure what you were making, so I hope it works." I took a bite of the quesadilla. You could never go wrong with melted cheese. It also took my mind off of the image of Cole, naked.
“It's good.”
We both reached for a napkin and our fingers brushed. An electric jolt shot up my arm.
Cole picked up his wine and turned to look at me, his eyes half lidded in that sexy, bedroom way. Evidently we were both thinking the same thing. He cleared his throat and got up to check the chicken. I mentally shook myself and decided on a safe conversation.
"The quesadilla's great."
He turned and smiled, obviously relieved to talk about something harmless. "Thanks. They're pretty easy to make."
I laughed. "Believe me, I can't cook much of anything- to my mother's horror."
“What did your parents do? You’re from Minnesota, right?”
“Yeah. Mom taught at a junior college and Dad sold insurance.” Uncomfortable, I changed the subject. "So what about you? I’ll bet your folks were law enforcement, right?”
"Not exactly. Mom was a civil rights attorney in Seattle and Dad was career military."
"That must have been an interesting combination. Did you move a lot?"
"My mother decided she didn't want to move my brother and me around, so whenever Dad was stationed somewhere other than Seattle, he'd go alone. We'd visit him when we could."
"So you got to travel quite a bit? That sounds like heaven."
"You know, it didn't seem like a big deal; that's just the way it was. Dad would come and visit us when he had leave and we’d go to visit him on school breaks. It worked for us, although he missed a lot of our growing up stuff. That's why I fought so hard for custody of my two girls. I didn't want to miss that." Cole took another bite of quesadilla.
"Dad came back to Seattle when he retired. Now he and Mom do a lot of sailing. In fact, they're somewhere in the Caribbean as we speak."
"Mmmm. Now that's what I call living."
"I take it you like the tropics?"
"Complete beach bum. I'm a sucker for warm sand, cool water and little umbrellas in my drinks."
"So that's where you were last winter?"
Surprise. He was keeping track. I didn't think I'd made that much of an impression on him. At least, he hadn't shown any real interest as far as I could tell.
“I’m flattered you noticed.”
“It’s my job to notice.” Cole got up and opened the oven to check on the chicken, then took a bowl of salad out of the fridge, brought it into the dining room and set it on the table.
I followed, noticing that the table had already been set, complete with tapered candles and a small bouquet of tulips in the center. How romantic. This evening just kept getting better and better.
"So tell me about where you like to go." I studied him for a moment. "I'll bet you like active vacations- skiing or hiking, right?"
"You're good," he sa
id, walking back into the kitchen. "I am not real fond of lying out by the pool all day." He topped off the wine in both of our glasses. "My favorite trips have been where I combined things- like camping and rafting, or sailing to somewhere remote and hiking."
Now this was a man I could spend time with. I didn't enjoy sitting in a beach chair drinking all day, either. Not that napping in a hammock was out of the question, but I needed something else.
And he knew his way around a firearm.
The timer for the oven went off. Cole waved me back into the dining room while he got everything together. He came back out with the roasted chicken, sun dried tomato and wild rice dressing and a big, steaming bowl of asparagas.
The conversation was effortless as we ate. Time flew off somewhere and did its own thing, and I could feel myself relaxing, forgetting about the events of the last few days. By the time we'd finished eating, the other bottle of wine was close to empty. We took the dishes into the kitchen and put them in the sink
"What do you say we go outside and look at the stars?"
He didn't have to ask me twice.
He grabbed the bottle of wine and I followed him with our glasses, past the living room and through a pair of French doors onto the patio.
The evening was mild and clear. I could hear the low hum of a hot tub off to my left, and directly in front of me stood an outdoor fireplace with a loveseat and two chairs surrounding a low table. The patio itself was a continuation of the slate from inside, and here and there low voltage lights illuminated the trees and plants.
Cole sat on the loveseat and patted the cushion beside him. I obliged. He picked up a remote and pointed it at the fireplace. Flames sprang to life, instantly transforming the patio into an outdoor living room. He put his arm across the back of the loveseat and I leaned my head back, turning a little so I could see him.
The light of the flames danced in his eyes. He reached up to stroke my cheek. I closed my eyes and sighed contentedly. He brushed a kiss across my neck, my nose, my eyes, my lips. I kissed him back, softly. The food and wine had mellowed us a bit, so the earlier lust was less prevalent, although that appeared to be changing rapidly.
