by Laura Scott
She opened her mouth, then closed it again. After a long moment her voice came out in a squeaky tone. “Me? You think he was shooting at me?”
He hated upsetting her, but she needed to understand the scope of what they were dealing with. He glanced around again and gestured to the right. “I think that might be a small cave in the side of the mountain. I’m going to take a quick look.”
This time, she didn’t protest, clearly reeling from the idea that someone had just tried to kill her.
The cave was more of a shallow curvature in the rock. It wasn’t much. In fact, he didn’t think both of them would fit sitting together within the indentation. But Chelsey was slim and petite. She could use it and he would sit outside the opening, keeping the fire going.
He returned to get Chelsey, who took another long drink of water before following him to the shelter. She didn’t look impressed but sank down and leaned against the rocky wall anyway.
Scouting the area for firewood didn’t take long, and soon he had a nice pile of logs and kindling. He didn’t have a lighter so he used a flint rock and dried sticks, a trick the army had taught him, to create a spark. A bit of fabric from Chelsey’s dress helped.
The spark turned into a flame. Lightly blowing on the small flame, he added one twig, then another, nurturing the flame into a full-blown fire. When he was satisfied it was large enough, he added a log and scooted back to sit close to Chelsey.
“Are you hungry?” He glanced at her.
She shivered. “No. I can’t eat.”
He understood she felt that way now, but they’d be hungry by morning. The body had a way of overriding grief to sustain basic needs. What was left of the sunlight was already fading and hunting in the dark wouldn’t work, even if he had something to hunt with other than his penknife, which he didn’t.
There was no point in thinking about food now. Tomorrow he’d need to come up with another plan.
What that would entail, he had no clue.
“Take my jacket.” He tucked the edges of his tux around her shoulders. “The rock will be cold. Better that you stretch out on the ground instead.”
“Okay.” She did as he suggested, looking like a waif in her dirty and ripped wedding gown, wrapped in his tux. There was a long silence as they watched the fire. The flickering flames were mesmerizing, but now that he’d secured the basics of their survival needs, he wanted to understand exactly what had gone down earlier that evening.
“What was Brett involved in?”
She turned to stare up at him blankly. “What do you mean?”
“Brett must have been involved in something dangerous. Do you know anything about this new job he was all excited about? Something about working protection detail for a wealthy rancher who lived near the hotel?”
Her beautiful blue eyes crinkled with confusion. “What wealthy rancher? Brett worked as a project manager for Coyote Creek Construction. They construct businesses and residential homes. I don’t know anything about Brett’s alleged job of protecting a wealthy rancher.”
He wrinkled his brow in confusion. “How long has he been working for Coyote Creek Construction?”
“I’m not sure, maybe a couple of years? Why would he tell you some weird story about a new job working for a rancher? Especially a wealthy one? The only rancher we know is Elroy Lansing, and he certainly doesn’t need protection from what I know. Frankly, his ranch has been going downhill the past few years—rumor has it he’s selling land to anyone offering a cash deal.”
No wealthy rancher needing protection? It didn’t make any sense. Brett had obviously lied about his job, either to him or to Chelsey. And the more important question was, why? There was no reason, especially if he had a job working as a project manager for a construction company.
What secret was Brett covering up?
Whatever it was, it had likely gotten him killed.
And worse, put Chelsey in harm’s way.
TWO
Lying on the ground wrapped in Duncan’s jacket and watching the flickering flames dancing amid the kindling was surreal. The peace and tranquility were at direct odds with the horrifying way her wedding had ended, even before it had begun.
Chelsey had lived in Wyoming for twelve years, so it wasn’t as if she’d never camped outside. She had, but never in a wedding dress. And never with Duncan determined to look after her.
It seemed wrong to be resting here, somewhat relaxed, when Brett was dead. Maybe it was a sign that her body couldn’t tolerate any more stress.
The week leading up to the wedding had been bad enough, wrestling with her doubts. Now all she felt was a blunt dullness. A resignation that she couldn’t go back and change the past.
Brett was gone. It was difficult to wrap her mind around it. Duncan was right to explain how the reality of losing him hadn’t hit her yet.
If only she’d explained to Brett how she was feeling before today. Maybe if she’d asked him to call off the ceremony, he’d still be alive. Mad and upset with her, yes, but alive.
Duncan’s questions about Brett’s job disturbed her. Why would Brett make up a story about protecting a wealthy rancher? Did he feel the need to be viewed by Duncan as more important than he really was? She remembered how Brett had planned to follow in Duncan’s footsteps in joining the army, but his asthma diagnosis had made him ineligible to serve.
Was that what his bizarre story was about? Feeling better about himself?
They’d never know. Her chest tightened painfully. It was inconceivable that Brett was involved in something that had gotten him killed. Maybe this was nothing more than a case of mistaken identity.
But if so, why shoot at her?
The temperature dropped, making her shiver. Duncan must have noticed because he scooted closer. “Keeping close will help us both retain body heat.”
She moved until her body was partially wrapped around his. Duncan’s warmth was a balm to her fear and worry.
Trust in God. Wasn’t that what her church pastor had taught them? She shied away from the thought. Concern over breaking her commitment to Brett had been something she’d wrestled with. She couldn’t imagine what Pastor Rick would have said if she’d told him she needed to break off her engagement and cancel the wedding.
Had the local police been called? Were there men and women out there right now searching for the gunman? As well as for her and Duncan? It would make sense that they would be, especially as they were both witnesses.
Unless there was something she was missing.
It hit her suddenly, with the force of a brick to her abdomen, that she might be a suspect in Brett’s murder. There was no motive, unless someone with Duncan’s intuition had figured out that she had changed her mind about marrying him.
Not that it was really a motive. Killing him was a drastic measure when they could just as easily get an annulment. Yet who else would want him dead?
She had no idea. The thought of being a suspect in murdering Brett in cold blood was sickening.
“Relax, Chelsey. I can feel waves of tension radiating off you. Try to get some sleep.”
It was quiet, other than the usual night sounds of the forest, but it wasn’t that comfortable that she would be able to sleep. Drawing in a deep breath she tried to relax. To let go of the tension.
“You knew I was having doubts about getting married, didn’t you?” The stark question popped out of her mouth before she could think about it.
Duncan didn’t respond for several seconds. “You didn’t look like a happy bride coming down the aisle. In fact, I was afraid you were going to be ill.”
His intuition had been right on and explained the concerned way he’d been looking at her.
“Did Brett do something to upset you?” he asked.
“No.” Honestly, it would have been easier if he had. But Brett was a nice and decent guy
. She was the one with the issues, not him.
“Then what was bothering you?” Duncan’s deep, husky voice made her shiver. It was crazy to be this aware of him. “Why were you having second thoughts?”
She couldn’t tell him that seeing Duncan again had rekindled feelings she’d thought were long gone. How in that moment, she’d understood that she loved Brett as a friend and not as a husband.
“My mother died three months ago.”
Duncan shifted ever so slightly, looking down at her. “I’m sorry to hear that. Your mom was a wonderful lady.”
“After my father passed away two years ago, my mom and I became very close. Her death made me feel as if I was lost at sea without a boat or even a life preserver. When Brett came to the funeral, it was as if I’d been given a piece of my childhood back. One I didn’t want to let go.”
“I can see that.”
Duncan’s acceptance of her failures made her want to scream in frustration. Instead, she took a breath and continued to explain. “We began dating. It was so wonderful to have him here. His job was primarily based in Cheyenne and required him to travel a lot, so we made the most of the time we had together. When he proposed...” her voice trailed off. The memory was not a happy one. “I wasn’t expecting it. I said yes, because he was beaming with excitement. And it wasn’t that I didn’t love and care about him.”
“Marriage is a big step. It’s understandable that you would have second thoughts.”
“Stop making excuses for me.” Her tone was sharp and she pushed herself upright into a sitting position. “I should have figured out that my caring about him was different from being in love with him. And now he’s dead! Gone forever. And it’s all my fault.”
Tears pricked her eyes, but they came from a deep well of guilt.
“That’s not true, Chelsey. His death isn’t your fault.”
“It is!” Why was Duncan being so stubborn? “If I’d called off the wedding ahead of time, the way I should have, none of this would have happened.”
“Not in the same way it did, no. But if Brett was involved in something he shouldn’t be, there would have been an attempt to get him another time. And don’t forget, you were a target, too. If you hadn’t walked down the aisle today, you may have been killed along with him in another location. I’m glad your life was spared.”
She peered at him, trying to make out the expression on his face in the firelight. “You really believe that.”
“Yeah, I do. That second shot wasn’t an accident or a mistake. We were running away from the scene, which must have caught the shooter off guard. He probably expected you to go to Brett, giving him the perfect second shot. Instead, we took off, causing him to recalibrate his aim for the distance and our movements.”
He spoke as if he knew exactly what the shooter had been thinking. “You’re scaring me.”
“I’m sorry.” He didn’t sound sorry. “But you need to understand why we need to keep moving. Why we can’t simply go back to the hotel. There’s no way for us to know friend from foe.”
His tone was so rational and reasonable in the face of this insanity.
If Duncan was right, and she was in danger, then he was the only thing standing between her and the shooter.
She owed Duncan her life and trusted him to keep her safe.
* * *
Duncan was grateful when Chelsey finally stretched back out on the ground beside him. He waited for her muscles to relax enough that she might be able to get some sleep.
Her statements about how she’d become engaged to Brett had surprised him. It made sense given the fact that things had happened so quickly after her mother had died.
Seeing Chelsey again after all these years had reminded him of how much he’d liked her. They were only young teenagers back then, so there was nothing serious that had ever transpired between them, but he’d always admired her. She’d been smart, beautiful and funny. He’d been upset that her parents had moved from Wisconsin to Wyoming to take over her grandparents’ hotel. It felt as if she lived on the other end of the planet—that’s how far apart those miles had seemed.
He and Brett had gone out to visit her one summer after graduating from high school. They’d had fun, but it wasn’t as if there were dozens of job opportunities out there. Duncan had plans to join the army, while Brett had wanted to go to college in Chicago. They’d left Chelsey behind, promising to visit again, but they hadn’t followed through.
Or at least, he hadn’t followed through with visiting her. Obviously, Brett had come to Wyoming and had taken a job with the Coyote Creek Construction company.
Had his old friend done that as a way to be close to Chelsey? Probably.
When Duncan had come out for the wedding, he’d learned that Chelsey’s parents had inherited the Teton Valley Hotel which had been in the family for several generations. The hotel likely belonged to Chelsey now, after the death of her mother. According to Brett, Chelsey loved playing the hostess to her guests and the hotel business was going well.
Then privately, Brett had claimed to have a new job that would enable him to live here in the valley with Chelsey. It had struck him as odd to hear that Chelsey hadn’t known anything about it.
Too many things that didn’t add up. As a former soldier and current cop with the Milwaukee Police Department, Duncan trusted his ability to keep Chelsey safe, but he also had a driving need to solve the puzzle of Brett’s murder—and to uncover the reason Chelsey was in danger. Because he firmly believed the shooter wasn’t finished with his plan. No doubt, the shooter would consider Chelsey a loose end.
Duncan added another log to the fire, then took a few minutes to rub dirt over his white shirt and light gray slacks. When he’d camouflaged himself as much as possible, he stretched out alongside Chelsey. He wanted to pull her into his arms but knew it was inappropriate. Instead, he edged as close as he dared to share his body heat.
As a former special ops soldier, Duncan knew how to rest while keeping his sixth sense on alert for a sign of the enemy. After his deployment, he’d had trouble sleeping and working as a police officer didn’t help. Milwaukee had a high crime rate—not nearly as bad as Los Angeles or Chicago, but bad enough that he remained on high alert at all times.
Being in the mountains of Wyoming actually felt a little safer to him. It offered more hiding places than the urban environment of Milwaukee ever could. And was not nearly as dangerous as being in the mountains of Afghanistan.
He thought about his dad, Ian O’Hare, and his sister, Shayla Callahan, who had married her high school sweetheart, Mike Callahan. It would be nice to have the Callahans with him now, covering his back, but they were far away. As were Hawk and Ryker, his special ops army buddies.
Never in a million years did he expect to run into trouble in Jackson, Wyoming, of all places. That standing up for Brett and Chelsey’s wedding would end up in a shooting that would send him and Chelsey running from gunfire.
If he’d known, he would have brought Ryker, Hawk or any of the Callahans along with him. The idea of calling his friends made him realize he had his cell phone in his pocket. Without disturbing Chelsey, he shifted enough to pull out his phone.
The bright light of the screen hurt his eyes, and he had to look away, giving his eyes time to adjust. But his hope deflated when he saw the tiny words along the top of the phone.
No service.
It figured. The Teton mountains were beautiful, but they didn’t make for good cell reception. He shut down the phone to preserve the battery, since there was only thirty percent of a charge remaining, and slid the device back in his pocket.
A satellite phone would be handy right about now. Along with a hunting rifle. A bigger knife. And a few water bottles.
While he was at it, why didn’t he ask for world peace and the solution to world hunger? The items he longed for were just as far out of r
each.
He shook off the despair and focused on next steps. If he was alone, he wouldn’t be so concerned. He’d survived and thrived under worse conditions.
Having Chelsey along increased the risk. Not just because she was wearing a wedding dress that stood out like a sore thumb, but because she wasn’t used to roughing it in the woods.
They needed to rest until daylight, drink more water and find some sort of food source, not to mention going on the move to find another shelter.
Was he wrong to avoid returning to the hotel? It might be safe if there were enough cops hanging around. Chelsey had a point about the shooter being long gone.
Yet his gut screamed at him to keep Chelsey hidden. At least for a couple of days. Although how he’d manage to find out who the shooter was while stealthily moving along the mountainside was a good question.
He must have dozed because a strange rustling off in the distance jarred him awake. Easing away from Chelsey, he sat up, peering through the darkness. Wild animals were not uncommon, especially deer, elk, moose and bears.
Straining to listen, he tried to distinguish between the normal sounds of the night. The fire was nice and warm, but it was also a beacon to anyone who might be out there searching for them.
The embers glowed red hot, but instead of adding wood, he kicked dirt over the fire, putting it out.
In minutes they were surrounded in darkness, only slivers of light from the moon shining through the trees offering relief.
The silence stretched in a way that was abnormal. The tiny hairs on the back of his neck lifted in warning. He desperately wished he had a decent weapon on hand but hadn’t anticipated needing one at a wedding.
Since the penknife was all he had, he opened the blade and clutched it lightly in his right hand, keeping himself positioned in front of Chelsey. He wanted to go on the move, to get as far away from here as possible, but knew her dress would hinder their ability to make a clean getaway.
