by Laura Scott
But she had her faith and her life. Being on the run with Duncan made her realize how grateful she was to be alive.
After a quick shower, she eased open her motel room door, glancing around before heading over to tentatively wake Duncan. He immediately answered her knock, opening the door and gently pulling her inside.
“You look well rested.” Duncan’s dark gaze didn’t miss a thing. “Have a seat. We’re ordering breakfast to the room.”
“Why?” She took a seat in the only chair.
Duncan shrugged and glanced at Slade. “Just being cautious.”
“Okay. I’m just thankful we’ll have food to eat,” she admitted. “I planned to warm up my leftovers from last night.”
“No need for that yet.” Duncan squeezed past, the room seemingly small with the two men taking up space. “What would you like?”
“Anything,” she said with a smile.
Five minutes later, they’d placed their to-go order. Slade offered to pick it up from the restaurant as the motel was too small to offer room service.
“Check on when we’ll have access to the cabin,” Duncan suggested.
“Will do.” Slade headed for the door. “I’m also going to find out what computer access they might have available. I’ll call when I’m on my way back with the food.”
The room was silent after Slade left. Chelsey blushed, remembering the moment she’d kissed Duncan.
And he’d kissed her back.
She cleared her throat. “When are you planning to head back to Wisconsin?”
He looked startled by her question. “Not anytime soon.” He paused, then added, “It’s possible that if we can find out who killed Brett and arrest the men in charge, you might not need to hide out in witness protection.”
A flicker of hope flared in her heart. “Really?”
“I can’t say for certain,” Duncan hedged. “But it’s a possibility. One I can’t ignore. I’m hopeful that when Slade gets a computer, we can really dig into the backgrounds of the men involved with Coyote Creek Construction. It’s not unheard of for construction companies to have ties to organized crime.”
“Organized crime?” Her voice rose with agitation. “I can’t believe Brett stumbled across something that caused all of this. And why on earth didn’t he confide in me?”
Duncan eyed her steadily for a long moment. “Would you have agreed to marry him if he had?”
“No.” The word popped out of her mouth before she could stop it. She grimaced and looked away. “You know I was having doubts anyway. If he had told me anything about witnessing a crime, or entering witness protection I would have ended things long ago.”
“We don’t know for sure when Brett stumbled across the criminal activity,” Duncan said reasonably. “Could be it all happened fast, in the last couple of weeks.”
“Maybe. Looking back, it seems like Brett changed about three weeks ago. He became, I don’t know, edgy. Impatient but then overly apologetic.” She shrugged. “At the time I chalked it all up to prewedding jitters, but now it seems as if that must have been the time this all started.”
Three weeks. She couldn’t believe Brett had kept all of this a secret for nearly a month.
“We can verify with Slade when he returns with our breakfast.” Duncan looked thoughtful. “But one thing that doesn’t make a lot of sense to me is why the US Marshals didn’t approach you sooner.”
A chill snaked down her spine. “You—don’t think Slade is faking being a US marshal, do you?”
Duncan blew out a breath. “No, I don’t. After all, he helped us escape the mountain by calling the park services. But we need information. He hasn’t told us everything he knows. I was so exhausted yesterday, I hadn’t really considered the timeline until now.”
She sat quietly for a few minutes, trying to think back to those days she’d spent with Brett prior to the wedding. He’d been spending less time in Cheyenne—because he was avoiding the men who he’d witnessed commit a crime? And what exactly had Brett seen?
Duncan was right. They needed answers.
A phone rang. Chelsey instinctively patted her pockets, even though she knew she didn’t have a phone. Brides generally didn’t have a secret pocket in their wedding dress for a phone.
Although now she wished she’d thought of such a thing.
“Okay, thanks.” Duncan disconnected from the call. “Slade is on his way with our food, and we’ll be able to move into the cabin rental by ten.”
“Is it far from here?” She wasn’t sure it was necessary to move into a cabin. The motel rooms worked fine, unless maybe it was cheaper.
“Just a mile or so, and more isolated from the rest of town which is probably a good thing.” Duncan rose to his feet and went over to the window overlooking the parking lot. “This feels too close for comfort.”
She didn’t answer, because she liked being around people. It wouldn’t be long before she’d be starting over with a new name and new identity. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d had to start over: the move from Milwaukee, Wisconsin, to Jackson, Wyoming, twelve years ago had been a culture shock. The wide-open spaces with the Rocky Mountains in the distance very different than living in the suburbs of Milwaukee.
Where would she end up this time? Hopefully not Florida, she thought with a grimace. California had decent weather, but there were earthquakes to contend with. Maybe back to the Midwest area, Kansas or Nebraska.
None of the options filled her with enthusiasm.
Duncan opened the door for Slade who came in carrying several cardboard containers of food. He handed one to her, then set the others on the desk.
She bowed her head and silently thanked God for providing her food, a bed and support from Duncan and Slade. When she lifted her head, she saw that both Duncan and Slade were waiting for her before eating their meals.
“It’s a blessing to be here with you both,” she murmured. “I want you to know how grateful I am for everything you’ve done for me.”
Duncan glanced at Slade who looked just as uncomfortable with her expression of gratitude.
“It’s my job to keep you safe, Chelsey,” Slade said gruffly.
“I feel the same way, Chelsey. You’re my friend and I’ll do whatever is necessary to keep you from harm,” Duncan added.
“Okay, then. Let’s eat.”
They all dug into their eggs, toast and bacon. Chelsey thought the food tasted amazing—maybe because she now realized the can of cold beef stew had been awful in comparison.
“Did you find a computer?” Duncan asked, glancing at Slade.
The marshal nodded. “I began a quick search on the rancher’s property, was able to identify the buyer as a corporation, not a person.”
Duncan frowned. “What sort of corporation?”
“Not Coyote Creek Construction,” Slade replied dryly. “Something called Elkhorn Estates.”
“Elkhorn Estates?” Chelsey looked askance. “Is that some kind of joke?”
“No, that’s the listing,” Slade replied. “But I have to admit it sounds fake. I didn’t have time to dig into it to find the principal owners.”
Elkhorn Estates. There were plenty of elk living in the mountains and elk hunting was a big deal in Wyoming. People came from all over the United States to hunt here starting mid-September and going well into November.
But she’d never heard of anything called Elkhorn Estates. “Maybe the plan was to build a subdivision on the land.”
“Anything is possible,” Slade agreed. “How would that have impacted your hotel business?”
She winced. “Not in a good way, that’s for sure. People come to vacation in Jackson, Wyoming, because of the rural setting and the mountains. These are generally people who like to camp, hunt and fish.” She waved her plastic fork. “Besides, there aren’t enough year-round re
sidents in Jackson to justify a brand new subdivision.”
“Unless there was some sort of new business coming into the area to support something like that,” Duncan countered. “If a new company opened up shop here, then there would be more employees—some with families, right?”
She nodded slowly. “Yes, but enough to build a subdivision of homes? That seems like a stretch.”
“Do you know how many acres of land Elroy Lansing owned?” Duncan asked.
“At least five hundred, maybe more.”
Slade whistled. “That’s a lot.”
She nodded. “I know it sounds that way, but his father and grandfather before him originally purchased the land for their cattle ranch. From the way Elroy spoke about it, they had well over a thousand head of cattle in their thriving ranch.”
“What happened?” Duncan’s gaze was curious.
“I wasn’t here back then, but according to the rumor mill, Elroy Lansing’s father went through a messy divorce, which cost him a lot of cash. He wanted to keep the ranch, so he had to pay his wife for her portion. Then a bunch of the cattle got sick and died.”
“Lansing never married?” Slade asked.
“No. Apparently he was in love with a woman who hated the isolation of the ranch. She took off and he decided it was better to remain alone.” She finished her breakfast and set the empty cardboard container aside. “What does any of this have to do with Coyote Creek Construction and whatever crime Brett uncovered while working for them?”
“It may not be connected at all,” Slade admitted. “I just thought the animal theme was an interesting coincidence.”
“This is the Wild West,” she pointed out.
“Don’t forget Brett told me that he was planning to work security for a wealthy rancher nearby,” Duncan said. “It’s possible Brett was giving me some sort of clue about what he was involved in. And we don’t know how rich or poor Elroy Lansing is. Maybe Elkhorn Estates paid him a pretty penny for his land.”
She didn’t like hearing the stories Brett had told everyone except her. She turned toward Slade. “What crime exactly did Brett witness anyway? Stolen goods? Drugs?”
The marshal didn’t answer for a long moment.
“It has to be something major, or they wouldn’t kill him,” Duncan added. “And I think Chelsey has a right to know.”
Slade slowly nodded. “Okay. Brett witnessed a murder.”
Her jaw dropped in shock. “M-murder? Are you sure?”
Slade’s expression was grim. “Yes, absolutely. Brett claimed he had proof of the crime and needed a day or two to get it, but we never received anything. We were called in by the local police chief because of the suspected ties to organized crime. They’d had some concerns about Coyote Creek Construction for a while now, and Brett’s allegation only added to their belief.”
Chelsey felt numb from shock. Murder and organized crime. No wonder Brett had seemed on edge. It hadn’t been about prewedding jitters at all.
How horrible to have witnessed a murder.
Yet as bad as she felt for him, the news only proved their relationship wasn’t built on trust and love the way she’d thought.
But on secrets and lies.
Depressing, really, to realize she didn’t really know anything at all about the man she’d been about to marry. Tears pricked at her eyes at how foolish she’d been.
Tears welled in her eyes. She needed to learn to listen to her gut instincts, which had told her she was making a mistake.
One that had almost gotten her killed.
NINE
“I—I don’t understand why Brett wouldn’t tell me,” Chelsey whispered, swiping at the tears. “He said he loved me. Why would he lie to me if he loved me?”
Duncan had no answer for that. “I’m sorry.”
There was a long moment as Slade shifted awkwardly in his seat. “I’m sorry, too. I feel partly responsible for this.”
He glanced at Slade. “Yeah, about that. Why didn’t you talk to Chelsey about the program?”
Slade winced. “That’s a fair question. In my defense, things happened pretty fast. The murder took place just over a week ago, and we were brought in about three days later. I discussed the option of testifying and going into WITSEC with Brett and he agreed to get me the proof he had of the crime, and mentioned the wedding claiming he’d told Chelsey everything. He said he’d promised to give her the wedding she wanted before heading out of town. I had no reason not to believe him.”
“But you knew he was in danger,” Duncan argued.
“He was off work for the wedding, and to my knowledge no one but those in the Jackson Police Department knew about Brett witnessing a murder and the proof he had of what happened.” Slade scowled. “We believed him, but after everything that transpired since, I’m convinced there’s a leak within the department.”
The spurt of anger faded and Duncan knew this wasn’t the time to assign blame. He owned a piece of this mess, himself for not pushing Brett more once he’d realized something was going on. And Brett should have clued in Chelsey, the woman he’d been about to marry.
Now their old childhood friend was dead and there was nothing they could do other than move forward from here. Too bad they didn’t have whatever proof Brett thought he could obtain.
“W-who was murdered?” Chelsey asked.
Slade hesitated, shooting a glance at Duncan as if asking for help on how much to say. He nodded, indicating she had a right to know. After all, the shooter already believed she knew. Her trying to play dumb wasn’t going to work.
Not at this point. Not when these men had already gone so far as to kill Brett and attempt to kill him and Chelsey, more than once.
“A guy by the name of Roland Perry,” Slade said. “He was apparently arguing with his boss. Brett heard the raised voices, and crept closer to see what was going on. According to Brett, his boss, Anthony Nettles, pulled a gun and shot Perry. Brett ducked down, and remained hidden all night, until long after everyone had left. When he came out, he called the police who in turn called us.”
A shiver rippled through Chelsey, and he gently squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. “I...see.”
“We haven’t found the body yet,” Slade went on. “And we were waiting for Brett to get us the evidence he’d promised. We did find out that no one has seen or heard from Perry since this took place. Local law enforcement is doing their best to find evidence. Unfortunately, Wyoming has plenty of places to stash a body where the wild animals will find it long before we do.”
Chelsey swallowed hard and put a hand over her stomach as if she felt ill. He couldn’t blame her. Hearing this made him feel lousy, too.
“It seems as if going back to the local law enforcement isn’t an option,” Duncan said slowly. “Not if there’s a leak.”
“Agree.” Slade sighed. “I’ll feel better once Colt shows up. For now, our main priority is to keep Chelsey safe.”
Duncan nodded, although he wanted to find a way to bring Anthony Nettles to justice so that Chelsey wouldn’t have to live out the rest of her life in witness protection.
Maybe Brett had gotten a photo of the argument, or audio taped the shooting. There had to be something that would put Nettles behind bars.
He released Chelsey, and then gathered their garbage together. “Getting her settled in the cabin is a good start.”
Slade rose to his feet. “I plan to head over there first, check things out. I can buy supplies, too.”
Duncan shot the marshal a glance. “How long do you plan to keep her there?”
“Hopefully not more than twenty-four to forty-eight hours,” Slade said. “I’m putting a rush on the new ID and paperwork, but these things take time.”
Just two days left to spend with her. His gut clenched with fear. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Slade. The guy’s actions so
far proved he was legit. But he didn’t like the idea of Chelsey going off without him.
After disposing of their garbage, another thought occurred to him. “What about the park rangers?”
Slade lifted a brow. “What about them?”
“Can we trust they won’t go to the local law enforcement about the gunfire? And about taking us off the mountain?”
“I made sure they understood this was a federal US Marshals matter, and not one for the locals to get involved in,” Slade replied. “They didn’t argue and didn’t seem concerned about letting me handle things.”
Duncan wished he felt reassured. He didn’t.
Slade left the motel room, leaving him and Chelsey alone. She stood and reached for the door.
“Wait, where are you going?” He quickly moved beside her.
“My room.” She glanced at him. “I don’t have much to pack, but would like to take the few things I bought yesterday with me to the cabin.”
“That’s fine. I’ll walk you over.” He swept up the key card, and then eased her aside to open the door. Using his body as a shield, he took her arm and escorted her the few steps to her room.
“Thanks.” Chelsey’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. She slipped inside the room and shut the door behind her.
Duncan stood there for a moment, wishing there was something he could do or say to make her feel better.
But there wasn’t.
After he returned to his room, he used his phone to call his brother-in-law, Mike Callahan. “Hey, how are Shayla and the kids?”
“Great,” Mike replied. “Brodie is being an awesome big brother to his little sister, Breena.”
The image of his sister, Mike and their two kids made him smile. Then his smile faded as he realized he couldn’t bring them into this.
He never should have called him.
“Great, glad to hear it.” He thought fast. “Listen, I’ll be here in Wyoming for a few more days. I’ll let our sarge know, but he may need help covering my shifts.”
