by Gail Barrett
“You’re becoming quite the cowgirl.”
The sarcasm in his voice brought her up short. “This is how I grew up.”
“Hey, I was joking. I didn’t mean it as an insult.”
Suspecting she’d overreacted, she sighed. “I know. I’m sorry. I’m just tired.” She’d spent too many sleepless hours anguishing over Cole. “Listen, if I’m right about this, you have to tell the study director. They need to halt the study before anyone else gets hurt.”
“That’s a bit extreme, don’t you think?”
“Not if it saves someone’s life. My God, Adam. Any number of patients could have problems we didn’t screen for. What if—”
“All right. All right! I believe you. Don’t have a coronary. I’ll give the report to Marge and suggest we stop the trial.”
“Fine.” Mollified, she pulled in a breath. But it still rankled that he hadn’t instantly understood the danger. How could he be willing to take a risk? Unless he was more involved in this than she knew…
Okay. Now she was really losing it. Adam had no reason to sink her career. His recommendation had helped her get the job.
She stopped at a traffic light and sighed. “Thanks, Adam. I might be wrong, but I don’t think so. I have a feeling about this.”
“We can’t take the chance regardless. Patient safety has to come first.”
“I knew you’d see it that way. I wish everyone did. If the administration hadn’t cut our funding we could have rolled out that new bedside medication system by now, and I wouldn’t be in this mess.”
“Maybe this case will spur them to fund it.”
“That would be great.” Then maybe some good would come of Mrs. Bolter’s death. “I just wish they weren’t blaming me for this.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll get it straightened out.”
“I hope so.” The light changed, and she took the turn for the highway. “I’ve got to go. I’m nearly on the highway. But be sure to watch for that email.”
“I’ll take care of it as soon as I get home,” he promised.
Bethany ended the call, then merged onto the highway, her hopes cautiously buoyed. This study didn’t vindicate her completely. She still had to figure out why the drug reconciliation form and inventory were wrong. But it was a major start.
More sleet gathered on the windshield, and she turned her intermittent wipers on. Then a cattle truck roared past, reminding her of the upcoming trip to the mountains—and that she’d promised to telephone Cole.
Her heart beating fast, she dialed the ranch, then grimaced in disgust. She was definitely acting like a giddy schoolgirl, falling apart at the thought of Cole.
“Bar Lazy K,” he said. She shivered, his deep, gravelly voice sounding far too intimate in the dark.
“It’s me, Bethany. I just got on the highway. I should reach Maple Cove in about twenty-five minutes or so.”
“I’ll head to the highway now.”
“You’d better wait. The roads are slick so I’m driving pretty slow. I’ll phone again when I get to the pass.”
“All right. Be careful.”
“I will.” Her voice came out breathless, and she stifled a sigh. This was beyond ridiculous. She had to get a grip before she made a total fool of herself.
Cole might still physically desire her, but he’d made it clear he didn’t want an affair—which was good. Between their past and the current danger, they didn’t need the complication of sex.
Especially if her father was involved with the sabotage at the ranch.
Dread pooled inside her. She’d been skirting that possibility for days, but it was time she faced it head-on. And the bottom line was…she still refused to believe that her father would ever harm Cole. He just didn’t have it in him. And what motive could he possibly have?
Still, she knew he was hiding something. But what? Her father got along with everyone. He was the most accommodating person she knew. He never antagonized anyone, never lost his temper, even when provoked. He’d even endured years of racial prejudice so her mother could live in Maple Cove.
Turning that over in her mind, she passed a slow-moving truck, still unable to connect the dots. Then out of nowhere came a sudden thought. What if her father really hadn’t done anything bad—but he’d seen someone else harming the ranch? And what if that someone—such as Tony—had threatened him to make sure he didn’t talk?
Electrified, she tightened her grip on the wheel. That made far more sense. Her father might not confront a bully. And she could certainly envision Tony intimidating an elderly man.
But if it was true, it made her dilemma worse. She couldn’t hide her suspicions from Cole. He had a right to know what was happening on his ranch. If she didn’t speak up, and he found out later, he’d see her silence as a betrayal, an unforgivable breach of trust.
But neither could she implicate anyone—even Tony—without proof.
She turned up the speed on her wipers, her mind whirling through options, but she could only see one way out. If her father refused to talk, then it was up to her to find some proof. She would corner Tony in the mountains, show him that bridle browband, and force him to confess his part—before anyone else got killed.
Certain she was on the right track now, she flicked on the radio, picking up a station out of Bozeman, then hummed along to a country song. She kept an eye on the edge of the highway in case a deer or elk decided to cross the road.
The traffic slowed as she neared the pass. She tapped on the brakes, hoping no one had suffered an accident on the icy roads, then exhaled as they came to a stop. Suddenly feeling the lack the sleep, she yawned and rubbed her eyes.
Then a car zipped past on the shoulder and exited to the country road just ahead. She frowned, thinking fast. If she left the highway, she could pick up the old gravel road that angled south toward the ranch. It took longer to drive than the highway, but if this traffic stayed stopped for long…
Making a quick decision, she pulled onto the shoulder and followed the other car. A pickup swung in behind her as she drove down the exit ramp. It stayed on her bumper as she turned onto the country road.
She lowered the volume on the radio and reached for her cell phone, figuring she’d better let Cole know that she’d changed her route—but the glare in her rearview mirror made it hard to see. She squinted at the side mirror. The idiot behind her had his high beams on—and he was tail-gating her like mad.
The road narrowed, and began to curve. She eased off on the pedal and hugged the shoulder, trying to give him room to pass. She didn’t need some yahoo riding her bumper all the way to the ranch.
But he slowed and stayed behind her. Alarm prickling through her, she swung back out and sped up—and he kept pace. Sweat moistened her upper lip. Foreboding breathed down her spine. What was his problem? Was he drunk? Trying to be obnoxious? Or something worse?
She slowed again, and so did he. She punched down hard on the accelerator, and he did the same.
Her heart began to thud. Trying to see him better, she flicked a gaze at the side view mirror, but the bright lights obliterated her view.
Her tires drummed in time to her heartbeat. Her palms grew slick on the wheel. The memory of the dead mercenary slashed through her mind, and she fought back an onrush of dread. Her cell phone rang, but she didn’t dare try to answer. A second of inattention could send her careening off the mountain road.
The truck roared up behind her. She bit back a scream as he rammed her bumper hard. She swerved, then fish-tailed wildly. Her heart thundering, she grabbed the gyrating wheel and managed to straighten the truck.
Panting, sweat stinging her eyes, she glanced in the rearview mirror. But he zoomed up behind her again. Desperate to outrun him, she flattened the accelerator to the floorboard, and sped toward the upcoming curve.
But the truck pulled even beside her. She shot a glance at the guardrail, stark fear making her numb. He was going to force her off the road.
They neared the cu
rve. She stomped on the brakes, praying she didn’t go into a skid. He shot ahead, just as another car approached head-on and blared its horn.
A wild sound formed in her throat. Her pursuer swerved back to the right, and the other car flew safely past. But her pursuer overcorrected and hit the guardrail. A terrible screech rent the air. She watched, horrified, as he veered all over the road, then somehow regained control. He disappeared around the bend.
She jerked to a halt, slamming her head back against the headrest. Wheezing, so panicked she could barely function, she executed a three-point turn. Then she pushed down hard on the pedal and raced back the way she’d come.
Within seconds, she zoomed up behind the car her attacker had nearly hit head-on. She swung out and passed him, and the driver lay on his horn.
“Sorry. Sorry.” She knew she was driving like a maniac, but she had no choice. She raced toward the highway, struggling to stay on the winding road.
And hoped that she’d survive.
Chapter 10
Bethany drove through the gates of the Bar Lazy K a short time later, her heart banging against her rib cage, still struggling to catch her breath. She pulled up to the ranch house and braked, then pried her fingers from the steering wheel, so relieved she wanted to weep.
She’d done it. She’d outrun her would-be killer and made it safely back to the ranch. But now came the hardest part—hiding the attack from Cole.
Her hands trembling, she scooped up the articles she’d printed in the library. Then she climbed from the truck and waited for him to park beside her, her wobbly legs threatening to collapse. She gulped in the freezing air, determined to get her shattered nerves under control.
Because she’d realized something during that terrifying drive back to Maple Cove. She despised being a victim. She hated experiencing this horrific fear. And no way was she going to let some thug intimidate her into cowering inside the house.
Especially if the culprit was Tony. Bad enough that he’d bullied her during grade school. Bad enough that he’d threatened her in that note. But she refused to let him scare her. She would not show any fear.
Of course, she couldn’t prove that he’d tried to attack her. Yet. But she’d get that proof in the mountains.
Assuming she could conceal the attack from Cole.
Cole climbed from his truck and headed toward her. She preceded him up the porch steps, the steady thuds of his footfalls a contrast to the frenzied beats of her heart. She scooted inside the house, the warmth wrapping around her like an embrace.
She closed her eyes and swayed, the horror of the attack threatening to demolish her hard-won control. But she couldn’t let her mind wander back there. Not yet. Not until she’d made it to the privacy of her bedroom—and convinced Cole that nothing was wrong.
“How did it go?” he asked from behind her.
Fine, until someone tried to kill her.
She inhaled deeply and turned to face him. His blue eyes locked on hers—and she had the strongest urge to blurt out the truth.
Instead, she hugged her papers to her chest. “Good, actually. I found an unpublished dissertation that might explain Mrs. Bolter’s death. I-I’ll tell you about it tomorrow when we’ve got more time.”
His shrewd eyes narrowed on hers. He cocked his head, like a hunting dog scenting the wind.
“I sent it to Adam,” she continued. “The dissertation, I mean. I just called him, too… It’s complicated, but—”
“Bethany.”
“What?”
“What happened?”
Her chest squeezed. “What do you mean?”
His eyes holding hers, he stepped closer. He reached out and lifted her chin.
“You’re rambling. You’re shaking. And you’re pale enough to collapse.”
“I’m fine.”
“Baloney.” His voice held a hint of steel.
She steadied her gaze, trying furiously to project an aura of innocence—because no way could she tell him the truth.
Cole let out a hiss and dropped his hand. “For God’s sake, Bethany, there’s a killer on the loose. If something happened, I need to know.”
Desperation surged inside her. She didn’t want to lie—but he wasn’t giving her much choice. “Nothing happened. I told you, I’m fine. Now can we please drop this? I’m tired. I’m hungry, and I need to pack for our trip. I assume we’re getting an early start.”
For an eternity, he didn’t move. Frustration blazed in his eyes. She struggled to keep her composure, feeling sick about her deception, hoping she could beg his forgiveness later for having lied.
“We leave at six.” Anger laced his voice. He turned on his heel and crossed the room.
Her throat closed up. She clutched her papers closer, appalled that she’d hurt him more.
“Cole.” He paused, and his furious eyes cut to hers. “I—thanks for coming to get me. I appreciate it. And I-I’ll tell you what I found out tomorrow.”
His mouth flattened. Hostility rolled off him in waves. “Forget it. It’s none of my business what you do.” He pivoted on his heel and stalked away.
She closed her eyes, her stomach a jumble of guilt. She hadn’t meant to hurt him. But she couldn’t tell him the truth. Not yet. Not until she’d found proof of Tony’s involvement and could clear her father of guilt. And she could only do that if she accompanied them into the mountains to get those cows.
But as his angry strides receded, the pit in her belly grew. Instead of convincing Cole to forgive her for the past, she’d just made everything worse.
The morning dawned dull and gray, the leaden clouds hanging low over the mountains, sudden bursts of flurries presaging the heavier snow to come. Bethany slumped in the passenger seat of Kenny’s truck, the dismal skies reflecting her mood.
She’d angered Cole. He’d barely looked at her while they’d loaded the horses. And when he did glance her way, the distance in his eyes made her heart freeze, proving she’d erased any progress she’d made.
The mountain road curved ahead. She caught a glimpse of Cole’s pickup, his horse trailer hitched to the back, and couldn’t quite stifle her sigh. She was beginning to think she couldn’t do anything right around that man.
“You all right?” Kenny asked.
“Sure.” The switch-backing road turned steeper. Kenny downshifted, his powerful truck handling the curves with ease, even with the gooseneck trailer in tow. She glanced his way, realizing she’d been so wrapped up in her thoughts of Cole that she’d hardly spoken on the two-hour drive.
“Sorry I’m not good company. I guess I’m a little preoccupied these days.”
Kenny slid her a glance. “Is Tony still bothering you?”
“You noticed?”
He shrugged. “He’s always been a jerk. He used to get in my face, too. He doesn’t bother me much anymore, though.”
Bethany’s mouth edged up. “Not since you’ve grown, huh?”
He smiled back. “Yeah.” Kenny had been a thin, puny kid during grade school—a bully’s easy prey. “I took boxing lessons, too. That helped. I landed a right hook to his nose once, and after that he left me alone. Ever notice that crook in his nose?”
She laughed. “Good work.”
Still grinning, Kenny turned his eyes back to the road. But his words lingered, making her think. She hadn’t been Tony’s only victim. He’d pushed his weight around since childhood, tormenting vulnerable kids. Had he moved on to more sinister acts as an adult? It certainly appeared that way.
But she still needed proof.
Seconds later, Kenny turned off the road at Cole’s corrals. Bethany shrugged on her sheepskin vest and grabbed her gloves. From here on out, they’d ride on horseback. Once they found the missing cattle they’d drive them back here and ship them out.
Kenny came to a stop. “You might as well get out here,” he said. “I’m going to back the trailer in.”
“All right.” She hopped out and pulled on her gloves, her breath turning
to frost in the air. Cole turned away as she headed toward him, and her stomach fell. So his temper still hadn’t cooled.
She waited beside him and Tony, rubbing her arms to stay warm. They’d hauled their tack and three of their horses in Kenny’s spacious, slant-load trailer. But Tony’s roan gelding had proven so difficult to load—even trying to bite them—that they’d finally stuck him in a smaller trailer alone.
“All right,” Cole said when Kenny joined them. “Let’s get to work. Bethany, you help Tony unload his gelding. Kenny and I’ll take care of the rest.”
She nodded, her stomach balling at his clipped tone. How much angrier would he become when he found out about her dad?
Deciding not to borrow trouble, she turned her attention to the job at hand. Tony swaggered toward her, his pale eyes glinting with malice. A mottled bruise discolored his jaw.
Her pulse hitched. She turned toward the trailer, but gave him a sideways look. If he’d tried to run her off the road last night, he might have a bruise like that. When his truck had slammed against the guardrail, he could have banged his jaw.
She opened the trailer’s back doors, trying to sound offhand. “Interesting bruise you’ve got. What happened?”
He grunted. “I was in a fight.”
“Really? Who with?”
His eyes narrowed. “Why do you care?”
“I don’t. I was just curious.” She pulled down the ramp, then aimed her gaze at him. “Someone tried to run me off the road last night.”
He planted his hands on his hips. His mean eyes focused on hers. “Are you accusing me of something?”
“Not at all.” This wasn’t the time to press for answers, not when they had to unload his horse. But sometime during this trek through the mountains she intended to get the truth.
