by B. J Daniels
He let out a curse. “What if your father wasn’t their first target? Your grandfather was already a senator. There must have been talk of him planning to run for president before your mother came on the scene. If he hadn’t dropped out of the race...”
She sat up, her eyes bright with excitement. “No one has ever known why he didn’t stay in the race. What if it was because he found out the truth about my mother, about the Prophecy? True, my grandmother died, and apparently he took it hard. Even if there was a mistress...” She met his gaze. “It is sounding like history repeating itself, isn’t it?”
“Your grandfather quit the race and then was killed in a car wreck. That is a lot of tragedy so soon after Sarah Johnson joined the family. But then she didn’t just stay with your father, she had six children with him. That doesn’t sound like the woman known as Red.”
“True, until she disappeared for twenty-two years,” Kat said, sitting up as she became even more convinced they were onto something.
“But now we know where she’s been,” Max said. “Brazil.”
“With some doctor who is part of the Prophecy. I wish I knew more about my grandfather. Max, if he was the first intended target, and he found out what my mother and her friends were up to, isn’t it possible his death wasn’t an accident? Max, are you listening to me?”
His head was cocked, his gaze on the door. “Do you smell that?”
Kat sniffed. “Smoke?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
MAX HADN’T SMELLED it before that moment because of the dying fire in the woodstove. He bounded from the bed and ran toward the front door, all his senses on alert. He picked up another scent before he reached the door. Kerosene.
Grabbing the door handle, he let out a yelp as it burned his fingers. “Get dressed quick. We have to get out of here,” he said to Kat as he rushed back to the bed. “The place is on fire.”
He pulled on his jeans and grabbed his shirt. Using it like a hot pad, he hurried back to the door. He could hear flames licking at the outside of the yurt. The man he’d rented it from had bragged that the structure was built like a bomb shelter with small windows and solid wood all around the outside for privacy.
Max tried the door, already suspecting it wasn’t going to open. It didn’t. Something had been put against it outside. He threw a shoulder into it, but the door didn’t budge.
He turned back to Kat. She was dressed, looking scared. Smoke was beginning to fill the yurt. He glanced to the windows. They were too small for either of them to get out and, because of the yurt’s size, there was only one door in and out.
Pulling on his boots, Max looked around for something he could use to try to bust out of there before they were both burned to death. Outside, the dry wood and fabric the builder had used to cover the structure were crackling as they burned. The walls were already beginning to creak. Once the flames burned through them, the whole place would come down on them.
Max spotted an ax over by the woodpile next to the stove. He tossed Kat a towel he’d soaked in water and told her to put it over her face and stay low where the smoke wasn’t so black. Then he picked up the ax and began to tear into the far wall near where the woodstove vented.
As he’d guessed, the wall was weaker at this spot. The first swing opened the inner cover. The second made a hole through which he could see blue sky. He swung again and again as the smoke filled the yurt. His throat ached, and each breath was becoming a labor.
The hole was almost large enough. He felt Kat’s hand on his leg as she crawled closer. She was coughing as he helped her to her feet and, shoving the coffee table over, pulled her up on it and out through what was now a ring of fire. Just as he was about to let go of her hand, she pulled him after her. They tumbled out, hitting the ground and quickly rolling away from the flames that had already burned the tall, dry grass around the structure.
“Are you all right?” Max asked, his voice hoarse, as he crawled to her and took her in his arms.
Kat nodded, still coughing, as he reached for his cell phone. He had just enough bars to put in a 911 call.
Behind them, they heard a crash as part of the roof collapsed in a roar of flames. If they had stayed in there even a few minutes more...
“They tried to kill us,” Kat said in between coughs. And pointed down the mountainside.
Max turned to see a black SUV roaring toward Beartooth. It looked familiar like the one that had almost hit them that day in Bozeman. “Come on,” he said and helped her up. “They aren’t going to get away. Not this time.”
* * *
KAT PUT THE window down as Max drove. He’d told her to buckle up and hang on. She breathed in fresh air, sucking it into her lungs. Back up the mountain, the yurt glowed bright orange as the flames consumed it.
Ahead, all she could see was the dust trail that the black SUV had left.
“What are you going to do when you catch them?” she asked, her throat raw and scratchy, but most of her coughing over.
With one hand on the wheel, he reached with his free one and pulled a pistol from the glove box. “Don’t look so worried,” he said as he laid it on the seat between them. “I notified the sheriff. He will be looking for them. There aren’t that many roads once they get to Beartooth that they will know to take. Right now, they don’t even know we’re after them.”
No, they thought she and Max were still in that burning yurt. She shuddered. If Max hadn’t gotten them out when he did...
Max’s cell phone rang. He handed it to Kat so he could concentrate on his driving. The dust ahead of them was getting thicker, which meant they were getting closer to the SUV.
“Hello?” she said into the phone, her voice raspy.
“It’s Sheriff Curry. Is this Kat Hamilton?”
“Yes.”
“How close are you to the SUV?”
“It isn’t far ahead of us now. We can’t see much because of the dust it’s kicking up.”
“We’re coming from the other way. Tell Max not to try to apprehend them by himself. Stay back until—”
“The SUV just turned on to the old river road,” Kat cried as she saw the driver make a left turn that almost rolled the black vehicle.
Max had to hit the brakes to make the turn.
“Are you still with it?” the sheriff asked.
“Right behind it,” Kat said into the phone.
“Stay with it, but, please, tell Max to keep back in case the driver has a weapon. I’ll come around the other way.”
They were going so fast! The black SUV was kicking up small rocks that pelted the windshield of the pickup and bounced off the hood.
“The sheriff wants you to stay back,” she said.
“The bastard tried to kill us. I’m not letting him get away,” Max said as he kept his foot on the gas pedal, refusing to let it up.
Suddenly Kat saw the flash of chrome, and the next thing she knew the driver had lost control. The huge black SUV was abruptly sideways in the road.
Out of the corner of her eye, Kat saw Max tromp on the brakes, but she knew it was useless. There was no way he could get the pickup stopped in time. She braced herself for the crash, surprised when Max turned the wheel at the last moment, taking the blunt force of the crash with his side of the truck instead of hers. She heard the crunch of metal to metal a heartbeat before the air bags exploded.
Time seemed to stop. Either that or she’d been knocked out by the impact. She shook her head, coming out of a daze filled with the smell of steam rising from the radiator and dust. Through it, she saw that the pickup had caved in the back half of the SUV.
She blinked. Through the settling dust, she could see that the driver’s seat in the SUV was empty.
“Max,” she turned to find him slumped against the seat. “Max!” She reached for his han
d, found a pulse, and tried not to panic. There was a small cut on his temple, blood was running down, but he was breathing.
Over the pounding of her heart, she heard what sounded like the crunch of broken glass under a boot heel. Her pulse thundered just under her skin as she looked around wildly for the driver. Somehow, he’d gotten out of his vehicle. Once he saw that Max couldn’t defend himself...
Kat thought about taking Max’s phone from her pocket, but the sheriff was already on his way. Calling for help would only cost her time. She unsnapped her seat belt. Her movements seemed too slow, too deliberate. She hurt all over as if she’d been beaten, but her mind was racing. She looked around for the gun that Max had taken from the glove box. It lay in the floorboard at her feet. Even though it hurt to do so, she reached out and picked it up.
Her father had taught all six of them to respect guns, which meant learning how to use them. She saw that it was a revolver and it was loaded. All she had to do was pull the trigger. Shifting the gun to her left hand, she tried to open her door. It was jammed. She had to throw herself against it before it would open. It creaked loudly.
Whoever had been driving the SUV would know that she was coming, but there was nothing she could do about that. She was a sitting duck if she stayed here. Getting the door opened enough that she could slip out, she shimmied through the crack and dropped into a shallow ditch.
The pickup had come to rest on a curve. She understood now why the driver of the SUV had lost control. The road had been recently graded, so the gravel along the side was deep and loose. For a moment, she stood listening. She could hear someone moving around on the other side of the SUV.
Cautiously, the revolver grasped in both hands, finger on the trigger, she moved around the back of the SUV.
* * *
BUCK HAD HAD his staff call a press conference at the gate into the ranch. He knew Kat would be unhappy with what he was about to do. But he wasn’t all that happy about the reporter she appeared to be falling for. He’d learned after this many years that they each had to live their own lives. He had Sarah back. Maybe things really would work out.
He’d seen other politicians put a spin on their relationships and pull themselves out of the media mud. He would hire the best public relations team he could. Sarah was the love of his life. He thought he’d lost her. Now they had another chance. He had to take it. For himself. For Sarah. For their daughters.
But they’d give it time. Eventually, the girls would come around. Eventually, he hoped the American public would, as well.
He reminded himself that Angelina was barely in her grave. He felt a tidal wave of guilt at the thought of how quickly he was forgetting her. This past year had been hell on their marriage. Angelina’s jealousy and his love for Sarah had made him decide to leave her. She would probably still be alive today if she hadn’t been so to-hell-and-gone on finding something damning about Sarah.
His pulse jumped at the thought that the reason the two private investigators were dead was because they had found out about Sarah and the Prophecy. He shook his head, knowing there could be dozens of other explanations, none of them to do with Sarah.
He refused to believe she had been involved with the group. Just as he had to believe that Angelina’s death was nothing more than a tragic accident. Whatever the Prophecy members had hoped to accomplish, they weren’t going to force him to withdraw from the race.
As he got ready for his press conference, he thought, Put out one fire before you start worrying about another.
The press conference was to be short and sweet and at the ranch. His current PR person’s advice. “It will remind them that you are a local rancher with a family, first and foremost. It’s those roots that make you the best person to run this country. You’re grieving, but you want to assure the people, you will continue in the race.”
As Buckmaster drove out to the front gate, he was surprised to see how many different news sources were present, as well as supporters. He’d thought he could keep down the number by making this an impromptu event.
He climbed out of his SUV and walked to the gate. “Thank you all for coming. I know this was spur-of-the-moment. I’d like to make a statement. I won’t be taking any questions following my announcement.” A murmur moved through the crowd. “I have suffered a great loss. My first thought was to withdraw from the campaign.”
The murmur this time was louder.
“But I’m standing here a candidate for the highest office in our country because I believe it takes overcoming even personal loss to be president. My family and friends believe in me. They’ve encouraged me to continue. As the next president of this great country, I believe in my heart that I can make a difference.”
Some of the crowd began to clap. “I am continuing my run because my country needs me.”
Cheers went up from the crowd. Reporters began shouting questions as he thanked everyone and stepped away from the microphone.
* * *
HAVING POSTPONED HIS cruise for a few days, Russell Murdock stood at the back of the crowd gathered at the gate to the Hamilton Ranch. He heard the reporters calling out questions, but caught only one reporter’s questions as Buckmaster got into his SUV and drove back toward his house following his announcement.
“What about your first wife, Sarah? Is there a chance the two of you might get back together now?”
As the senator left, the crowd began to move away. Russell stood for a moment staring at the house in the distance, wondering if Sarah wasn’t already inside there. He wouldn’t have been surprised.
His daughter, Destry, hadn’t been the least bit upset when he’d told her that he and Sarah weren’t getting married.
“Dad, I’m sorry, but she wasn’t right for you. Too much baggage.”
He’d smiled at that. His daughter had no idea.
As he started to leave, he spotted the sheriff and walked over to him.
“Russell, I heard you were on a cruise.”
“I haven’t really decided yet when I’m leaving. I was wondering if you found out anything about that information I gave you?”
“Why don’t we step in to my patrol SUV for a moment?” Frank suggested.
Once inside, the sheriff said, “Since you’re the one who brought this theory to me to begin with...”
Russell felt his pulse kick up. “I was right?”
“I did find a clinic in Montana where a doctor was doing experiments with brain wiping twenty-two years ago.”
“On humans?”
Frank nodded. “Also a young woman who worked at the clinic saw a blonde woman matching Sarah’s description brought in the night Sarah went in the river.”
Russell let out a loud breath. “I was right.” He couldn’t help sounding relieved. It had seemed like such a crazy theory at the time and yet...
“We now know where Sarah has been the past twenty years,” the sheriff said. “She apparently left with the doctor from the clinic and went to work with him in Brazil.”
Russell felt his eyes widen in surprise.
“I thought you’d like to know before you left,” Frank said.
“Thank you. Have you talked to the doctor?”
“He’s missing again,” the sheriff said.
With a sigh, Russell shook his head. “I’m telling you, all this has to do with Senator Buckmaster Hamilton. And as crazy as it sounds, she’ll go back to him—if she hasn’t already. You need to protect her.”
“I’m not sure what I can do in these circumstances, but I can assure you, I’m going to be keeping a close eye on both of them,” the sheriff said.
Russell nodded. He could tell Frank thought the senator was the one he had to worry about. “Sarah’s the victim. I hope everyone realizes that before something horrible happens.”
* * *
AS KAT CAME around the back of the SUV, she saw the man lying facedown on the ground and froze. He looked badly hurt. Blood had soaked into the earth around his head.
She stared at him, willing him to move, the gun pointed at the center of his back. She was terrified that he might be able to rise. Hadn’t she only heard him moving around minutes before?
From in the distance came the sound of sirens. The sheriff would be here soon. But she had to know if the man was dead because she wanted desperately to get back to Max.
She took a step forward, then another. She was almost to the man, the gun in her hand, wavering, nerves on end. With the toe of her boot, she kicked the man’s leg. He didn’t move. Didn’t make a sound.
As she started to lower the gun, she heard the crunch of gravel under a boot heel behind her and belatedly realized that there’d been two men in the SUV. She swung around, raising the gun as she did. In that split second, she recognized him from the photograph of the Prophecy. He’d been one of the younger ones in the snapshot.
She pulled the trigger. The shot went wild as the man hit her, knocking her into the side of the wrecked black SUV. As her head smacked the hard metal, stars danced before her eyes.
Before she could react again, he grabbed her hand with the gun in it and wrestled the weapon away. As her vision began to clear, she saw him holding the gun on her. She must have closed her eyes. The next thing she heard was the report of the revolver. Her eyes flew open.
To her shock, she saw Max. He had knocked the gun from the man’s hands and had him down on the ground. The sound of sirens roared in her ears as the vehicles came screaming up in a cloud of dust. In moments she was in Max’s arms, and an ambulance was on its way.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
“THE MAN’S NAME is Warren Dodge,” Sheriff Curry said as he looked over the small group gathered in the Hamilton ranch house. “He has confessed to being a member of the Prophecy.” He gave a slight nod in Kat and Max’s direction, verifying what they’d already told him.
