The Lawman and the Lady

by Pat Warren

  “Fine, fine. Josh is out with Joe in the calving barn. He loves to feed the abandoned newborns from a baby bottle.”

  “He’s doing well, then?”

  “Yes, indeed.” She paused a moment. “Is Tate all right?”

  “She’s fine,” he answered, praying he was right. “She’ll phone later and talk with Josh. I’ve got to run now. Nice talking with you.” Nick rung off. “Josh is okay,” he told Maggie. He’d hoped as much, but he had to know for sure.

  Nick went to Maggie to check her wrist where it had been tied around her cast and her ankles, saw there was no bruising. “Can I get you anything? Will you be all right if I leave?”

  “Yes, yes, just go. Find her, please. Oh, I feel so terrible.”

  “Don’t agonize, Maggie. A man like that, if he wanted in, he’d have found a way, even if the dead bolt had been in place.” Holstering his gun, he walked to the door. “I’ll call when I know something.”

  In his car, he sat still, trying to put all his police experience to work mentally. Trying to remove his feelings from the case and examine it objectively, professionally. Only yesterday, he hadn’t been able to find Tate, though he’d been certain his mental connection with her would point the way. Only it hadn’t.

  So, putting mystical connections aside, he had to think logically this time. Yesterday, she’d been wandering around on her own. Today, she’d left involuntarily, he was certain. Oh, she might have gotten in Rafe Collins’s car without a struggle if he told her he had Josh and would take her to him. But that wasn’t voluntary in the usual sense.

  He picked up his radio and spoke to dispatch, reporting a long, black limo, possibly with government plates, the driver wanted for questioning. Next, he spoke with Arnie Fox, one of the other detectives since Lou was on forced leave, and asked him to run a list of all black limousines with either Arizona plates and/or government plates as to ownership, registration, etcetera, and to get back to him. Arnie said he’d do it ASAP.

  Still thinking hard, Nick started out driving aimlessly, trying to review in his mind everything Tate had told him about Adam and his henchman. Where would they take her? he asked himself. If their intention was to force her to sign that paper Adam had mentioned giving him custody, they’d have to take her somewhere private and remote. Because Tate wasn’t going to meekly give in and they knew that.

  A restaurant would be too public. Maybe a motel room? Nah, too chancy. Not his mother’s most likely because, even if Mrs. Weston was away, there were neighbors and the housekeeper who’d answered the phone. Adam couldn’t risk being seen in a compromising situation where he might be recognized.

  Nick found himself on the outskirts of town. Maybe Adam had Tate in the back seat of that limo while Rafe drove around, much as he was doing. She’d mentioned that Adam was a smooth talker so perhaps he thought he could persuade her. The day pigs fly, Nick thought.

  Think! he commanded himself. He had her somewhere and Nick was her only hope of rescue right now.

  Tate was scared to death. Seated in the back of the limo with Adam glowering at her, she watched him from under lowered lashes.

  She’d made him furious by ripping up the paper he’d thrust at her to sign. That much she knew. He’d backhanded her when she’d done that and her right cheek stung like the devil. She couldn’t help wondering what else he’d do, how far he’d go to get his way. Naturally he’d whipped another copy of the form from his briefcase, but she had no intention of signing that one, either.

  Her ace in the hole was that Adam didn’t know where Josh was. She’d die before she’d tell him.

  “You could just disappear, you know,” Adam said, his deep voice, so often praised by the media as smooth and trustworthy, sounding churlish under pressure. “Then, with you out of the way, I could move in, prove Josh is my blood and everyone would say what a shame it is that his mother had died.”

  “Go on, invent little scenarios, as many as you like. None of it’s going to happen. Oh, sure, you could hurt me, but you could also be caught and lose your precious standing in the senate and that marvelous house and your trophy wife. What would Mummsy say after how hard she’s worked to put you where you are?”

  “Shut up!”

  Not a bad idea, Tate thought. Goading a desperate man with the upper hand wasn’t terribly wise. But she couldn’t listen to his rantings without reacting.

  When she’d gotten the call from Maggie at Brennan’s, her heart had literally stopped for a second. How would Maggie know Josh was hurt when he was miles away? Helen must have called Maggie, looking for her, she decided. Had there been an accident on the ranch? But before she could think to ask, Maggie had hung up. That’s when Tate had first begun to suspect something more was wrong. Maggie would never just leave her hanging, not knowing how she felt about her son.

  Like a crazed person, she’d driven home and all her fears had been realized. Rafe was there, asking her to get into the limo and just talk with Adam. When she’d smelled a rat and refused, turning to escape into the house and call Nick, Rafe had grabbed her and shoved her into the back seat. In moments, he’d slammed the door shut and driven off.

  Adam had just sat there, with that oily smile that seemed to win over the masses and now turned her stomach, greeting her like an old friend. “Tate. How nice of you to join us.” She’d wanted to spit in his eye.

  Leaning forward, Adam tapped on the glass between the front seat and back, and waited for it to slide open. “Rafe, we’re moving to Plan B.”

  “Right, boss.” Checking his rearview mirrors, Rafe executed a U-turn and the big car glided in the opposite direction.

  Through the tinted windows, Tate watched the sun lowering in the sky. It would be twilight soon. Things always seemed worse as the day darkened. Earlier, she’d taken a chance and tried to open her door, but all the locks were controlled from the driver’s seat.

  Where were they taking her and what was Plan B? How could she get away from them? There had to be a way. She’d have to be alert and watch for an opening. She was not going to let Adam have Josh no matter what it cost her.

  Closing her eyes, she pictured Nick, trying desperately to send him a mind message. Come find me, please. I need you.

  It wasn’t long before she recognized the area they were driving through. Suddenly she knew where she was going, and her heart leaped to her throat. Oh, no! Tate thought. Not again.

  Adam was very intimidating, Tate had told Nick. And she was afraid of him, of the power that enabled him to constantly have his way. She was also afraid of Rafe who’d once beaten her, almost killed Laura and put Maggie in the hospital as well. So she’d be frightened and nervous, Nick knew. And angry with herself that she’d fallen for the ploy, because by now she had to know that Josh was okay since he wasn’t with them.

  Stopping at the side of the road, Nick watched the heavy rush hour traffic whiz by him. Not a limo in sight. Why hadn’t Arnie called back with a list of limos yet? He was the slowest man on the force. Damn it, this waiting, this not knowing, was driving him nuts. Every minute counted and here he was, stuck.

  Think like Adam, Nick instructed himself. Okay, he wanted Tate’s cooperation, so that she’d sign the papers. But Nick knew Tate would never sign. So Adam had to resort to intimidation. To work on her fear. What was Tate so afraid of that she might cooperate, something Adam knew about her?

  Mount Lemmon.

  Would the arrogant senator risk being seen, though it was a cloudy day and moving toward twilight? Of course he would, Nick thought, easing onto the highway again. That was where Adam had had Rafe dangle her over the precipice once before, so he knew how terrified she was of heights. She’d even dreamed that Adam had held Josh out over the edge, taunting her.

  Nick wasn’t positive, but it was as good a lead as he had. The road leading up the mountain wasn’t far. He gunned the engine, not putting his flashing red light on just yet, but he would if he had to. Praying he’d be on time, Nick swerved around an SUV, crossin
g the double yellow line, taking chances. Time was of the essence.

  By the time he arrived at the base of Mount Lemmon, it was already dusk and growing darker. The shops and restaurants were closed, the parking spaces available. Not at all the bustling place they’d visited several weeks ago in the afternoon sunshine.

  Passing the trail leading up, the one he and Tate had walked with Josh that day, Nick drove slowly, his eyes searching. Finally he found what he was looking for: the black limo. He pulled in next to it, got out and peered through the shadowy windows. No one inside. Checking the rear of the vehicle, he saw the government plates. That was all he needed to know. He was on the right track.

  Walking briskly, he hurried back to the trail and started up. He met two stragglers coming down, but after ten minutes of climbing, he couldn’t see anyone else. The sky was darkening and a half moon could be seen playing hide and seek with a high ridge as he followed the winding path.

  The bastard was smart, Nick thought, he had to give him that. He’d waited until nearly dark, when the tourist area would be deserted, abandoned by sightseers and shopkeepers alike. He’d be free to frighten Tate into doing his bidding without being recognized.

  Not if he could help it.

  Every little while, Nick stopped to listen, but he heard no voices, no sounds except the gentle splash of the stream bisecting the two sections and the occasional night bird. He kept going, taking his weapon in hand now. He could sense he was getting closer to the spot Tate had pointed out to him, though he’d seen it only once.

  Nick wasn’t sure how much longer he’d climbed when he heard the first cry, the one that sent a cold chill up his spine. Stopping in his tracks, he crouched down, narrowing his gaze as he looked around. Then he heard it again, coming from just around the next bend. Stealthily he crept along.

  As he peered around the tall rock formation, he heard a man shout. Three people were on the narrow trail just ahead and around from where he hunkered down to watch. A tall man wearing gray pants and a white shirt, his blond hair shifting in a light breeze, was standing with his back pressed to the wall of rock. That was probably Senator Adam Weston and he didn’t seem too fond of heights, either. The stocky man dressed in black with a long ponytail, undoubtedly Rafe Collins, had ahold of the woman’s arm bent around her back. Even at this distance, Nick couldn’t miss that red hair even though he couldn’t see Tate’s face.

  “Shut up!” Adam snarled at Tate. He glanced around looking worried.

  Tate prayed that a hiker or two would be coming down the trail and spot them. There still could be people on these trails despite the hour. Adam had taken a chance, bringing her up here, hoping to frighten her into signing. But she had no intention of cooperating. However, Rafe could be cruel, she remembered. If only Nick would somehow figure out where she was and find her.

  “I don’t think anyone else is up here by now, boss,” Rafe said, gazing up farther along the path. “We’re clear.”

  Nick was amazed at how well the sound of their voices traveled in the canyon.

  “All right,” Adam said, his voice hard. “Tate, I’m through fooling around. This has taken way too much of my time. I ask you one last time, will you sign these papers?” He held the contract out to her.

  “The day hell freezes over,” Tate said calmly, her arm going numb under the big jerk’s steely grip. She shifted sideways, hoping he’d loosen his hand for just a moment, long enough for her to break free and make a run for it.

  “Fine, you leave me no choice.” Adam didn’t sound resigned, just angry.

  From the corner of her eye, Tate caught a slight movement, then saw moonlight reflecting off something metallic in someone’s hand. Shifting her gaze back to Adam so he wouldn’t notice, she felt her heart soar. It was Nick. Had to be him. How on earth had he found her? She hadn’t really believed mental telepathy would work, but he was here and she wouldn’t question how.

  Time. They needed time, Tate thought.

  “Rafe, pick her up and hold her over that ledge,” Adam ordered. “Then we’ll see how willing she is to reconsider.”

  “Wait!” Tate cried out. She had to buy some time. “Let’s talk this over, Adam. Maybe if you give me visitation rights, I’ll sign Josh over to you.”

  Adam’s blue eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You’re hardly in a position to bargain. No, I want you out of the picture entirely. That way, he’ll forget you and become ours. It ruins a kid, going back and forth, confusing him. I only want the best for Josh. Don’t you see that?”

  Peripherally she saw Nick move a little closer. She had to go in another direction with Adam. “You mentioned money. How much money?”

  “That was before you put me through all this hell. Now, I plan to take what’s mine and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it. You’re not getting one red cent.”

  Despite her position, she felt a rush of anger. Angry that he’d think she’d give Josh up for money and furious that he was so arrogant to think that his son was like a thing, to be bargained over. “Have you thought about the fact that after I sign and you take Josh, I can still go to the authorities and prove he’s mine? DNA testing works both ways, you know.”

  It was obvious that Adam was seething that she would dare challenge him as he pushed away from the rock and stepped closer to her, his handsome face turning ugly. “You just try that and Rafe here will see that you disappear without a trace.”

  Just then, Nick took another step and a rock slipped down the gulley, sounding loud in the sudden silence.

  Adam, sensing danger, grabbed Tate and positioned her in front of himself as Rafe spun around and drew his gun. “Who’s there?” Adam asked. When he saw the detective who’d been hanging around Tate’s place stand up, he tightened his grip on her.

  Keeping his eyes on Bennett, Adam spoke to Rafe. “Get him.”

  But Rafe’s shot pinged off the rock Nick ducked behind.

  Not one to watch passively, Tate began squirming, fighting Adam, punching his sides with her fists, fairly certain he didn’t have a weapon. Now that Nick was here, she felt bolder, more confident.

  “Hold still, damn it!” Adam told her, looking furious that things had gotten so out of hand.

  “Let her go, Weston,” Nick shouted, his voice coming from behind a closer rock formation now.

  Noticing the detective was gaining on them, Rafe raised his arm, taking aim. But just then, Nick got off a shot, hitting Rafe in one knee. With a scream, the man went down, his gun flying out of his hand and skittering down the canyon.

  Nick, too, had guessed that Adam wasn’t carrying a weapon. Men like him rarely got their hands dirty, relying on their underlings to take care of their messes, so that if caught, his hands would be clean. Only not this time.

  Walking toward them, Nick kept his gun on Adam, relying on Tate to somehow get free of him so he could get off a shot. “Let her go, Weston. It’s over.”

  But Adam couldn’t give up easily, Nick knew. He couldn’t afford to lose everything because of this one misstep, which made him dangerous. “I’m a United States senator,” he shouted. “You can’t hurt me.” But the air of bravado sounded thin.

  “We’ll just see about that,” Nick answered. His eyes met Tate’s and she seemed to understand his silent message because suddenly she went as limp as a rag doll, deadweight in Adam’s grip, nearly knocking him off his feet.

  Swearing ripely, Adam dropped her and started up the path, scrambling to get away.

  Nick remembered from his research that Adam had been an athlete in college and had obviously kept in shape. He undoubtedly thought he could make it, get back to the limo and get out of there. Being a senator gave him a false sense of power in this situation. Huffing, Adam broke into a run.

  Tate scooted away from the dangerous edge of the cliff as Nick followed after Adam.

  Then Adam made another mistake. He took the time to glance over his shoulder to see how closely the detective was following him, and misjudged his ne
xt step. In a whirl of loose stones, he fell over the edge, saved from dropping all the way down by grabbing a scraggly branch jutting out from a rock crevice. Dangling there, his feet unable to find purchase, he stared up at Nick. “Help me,” he begged. “Hurry.”

  Nick dropped to his stomach on the narrow path and crawled closer to the edge, leaning over to assess the situation. He wasn’t sure Adam could reach his hand even if he stretched as far down as he could. After all he’d put Tate and her friends through, the man probably didn’t deserve saving. He’d ordered Rafe to kill Nick just moments ago.

  But Nick was a cop, sworn to do the right thing. Besides, no matter how terrible Adam Weston was, he was still Josh’s father. Nick knew he’d never be able to look the boy in the eye if he’d deliberately let his father die. He had to try to save him.

  Nick glanced up at Tate, who’d come up alongside him, and handed her his gun. “Here, hold this on Rafe in case he tries something.”

  Reluctantly she took the gun, but saw that Rafe was lying pretty much where he’d fallen, still moaning in pain.

  “Hurry up. This limb won’t hold forever,” Adam wailed.

  Nick tested a fat tree root by the edge and thought it would hold. He circled one arm around it, then stretched his other arm down, fingers spread. “Grab hold and I’ll try to pull you up.” The man had to weigh two hundred pounds to his one-eighty.

  Adam struggled to reach Nick’s hand, coming up short. His expensive shoes scraped against the rocks, trying to get some leverage. Then the branch slipped a notch and Adam cried out.

  “Try again,” Nick told him. “Try harder. It’s your life.”

  Grunting, swearing, sweating, Adam stretched, ripping his silk shirt on sharp rocks. Finally he touched Nick’s fingertips.

  “A little more,” Nick urged.

  Desperation had Adam making a near superhuman effort and finally, Nick grasped his hand.