Sunset Promises

by Carla Cassidy

  It was obvious Marcia and Colette had been friends. Again Colette was unsure how to answer, what to say, and she cursed her lack of memories one more time.

  “Where are you, Colette? That’s been one of the big mysteries around here.”

  Colette nearly laughed. Marcia knew nothing about mystery. Mystery was having somebody try to kill you and not knowing who or why. “I’m with my family,” she finally answered, strangely reluctant to give her exact whereabouts.

  “So what happened? Why did you just take off? I went by your apartment several times, but you were never there. The last time I went I found out it had been rented to somebody else.”

  After a moment of hesitation, Colette told Marcia about her amnesia. “Marcia, you’ve got to help me. Was I working on something sensitive before I disappeared? Was I in some kind of trouble that you knew about?”

  “Gosh, Colette, you and I were pretty good friends while you were here. We’d just gone out to dinner together two nights before you disappeared. If you were in trouble you didn’t tell me about it, and I can’t imagine any case that you would have been working on that might have put you in danger. But, Mr. Collier would know more about the cases you were working on.”

  Colette rubbed her forehead, frustration producing a slight thudding headache. “Marcia, did anything unusual happen on the last day I worked in the office?”

  “You decided to work late, that wasn’t unusual. At lunch that day you told me you were going to work extra late to try to get caught up on things. You were worried about getting fired.”

  Colette’s headache blossomed. She’d been working late when she’d heard the voices. Suddenly her dream made sense and adrenaline flooded through her as she realized she was one step closer to discovering why she was in danger.

  “Colette, why don’t you talk to Mr. Collier? He’s been worried sick about you since you disappeared.”

  “Okay, sure.”

  As she waited for Marcia to connect her with her boss, her hands grew damp with perspiration and another surge of adrenaline flooded through her. Maybe Cameron Collier would know if she had been working on a volatile case.

  “Colette,” a raspy masculine voice said.

  Colette froze. Hang up, a voice screamed in her head. Just hang up. But she couldn’t. She remained frozen, unable to do anything but breathe into the receiver.

  “Colette, I know you’re there. Listen, come back to California and we can talk. I’m a reasonable man. We can work this out so everything is fine. All you need to do is come and talk to me.”

  Colette slammed down the phone, her heart beating with the fury of fear. That voice. His voice. The last time she’d heard it was when he’d whispered in her ear. “Loose lips sink ships.” His voice was smooth as oil, and filled with evil. Loose lips sink ships… what did it mean?

  Was he behind the threats on her life? Why? Why could he possibly want her dead? And where did Hank fit in to all this?

  “Come back to California and we can work this out,” Mr. Collier had said. But Colette knew with gut instinct that if she were to return to California, she’d wind up dead.

  She shivered. Cameron Collier might be behind the threats on her life, but he wasn’t the direct instrument of death. No, somebody on the ranch was that instrument and Colette knew she wouldn’t be safe, no matter where she was, until she found out who that was.

  * * *

  “IT’S ME,” the man said into the phone.

  “What in the hell is going on out there?”

  The cowboy winced, unsurprised by Cameron Collier’s anger. “She has nine lives.”

  “We’re running out of time and I want her dead. Change her luck. Forget trying to make it look like an accident. Just do what needs to be done.” Collier hesitated. “Maybe I should send a couple of my boys out on this. I thought you were the one for this job. Your record is clean, no discernible ties to me, but I must confess, I’m beginning to question your competence.”

  The cowboy gripped the phone receiver tightly. “That won’t be necessary. No need to get anyone else involved in this. I told you I can handle it.” He hung up the receiver, anger narrowing his eyes. He touched the gun that nestled inside his waistband.

  He didn’t want anyone else to do this particular job. He wanted it for himself, wanted the exquisite pleasure of paying her back.

  Again he narrowed his eyes and scratched his cheek thoughtfully. She wouldn’t be so lucky next time. She was one cat he intended to skin.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “I don’t understand. Why would your boss hire somebody to kill you?” Abby asked. The three sisters sat at the table, the early morning light streaming into the kitchen windows.

  There had been no opportunity the night before for Colette to tell her sisters about her phone call to the law firm where she used to work. “Who knows? Maybe I filed something in the wrong place or made too many typing errors,” Colette said with an attempt at humor. Brook wiggled in her arms, as if protesting the conversation. Colette rocked her and the baby fell back asleep.

  “Hmm, I’ve always considered that grounds for murder,” Belinda replied. “Seriously, Colette, do you really think this Cameron Collier has hired somebody to harm you?”

  “I’m sure of it. The minute I heard his voice on the phone I remembered him verbally threatening me.” She shivered as she remembered the hissed words, the venom that had accompanied them.

  “But it just doesn’t make any sense,” Belinda said. “Maybe it’s all a big misunderstanding of some kind. Maybe you should go back to San Bernardino and talk to this man.”

  Colette shook her head vehemently. “No, there’s no way to misunderstand me being shoved down the root cellar stairs and off the side of the butte. I know somebody is trying to kill me, and I know Cameron Collier is behind it all. The last thing I want to do is return to California and confront the man.”

  “I’ll call Junior later and tell him what you think. Maybe he can find a connection between this Cameron Collier and one of the ranch hands.”

  For the first time since arriving at the ranch, a burst of optimism bubbled inside Colette. Surely Junior could investigate the background of all the men on the ranch and find the California connection. All she had to do was lay low and wait for Junior to arrest the guilty party.

  Once again when Abby, Cody and Belinda left the house for the day, Bulldog was installed as a sort of outdoor guard. Colette wandered the interior of the house, frustrated by her enforced imprisonment yet not eager to venture out and tempt fate.

  After lunch, once again alone in the house, she placed Brook on a blanket in the middle of the living room floor and stretched out beside her. It was amazing how each day Brook changed, transforming from newborn to infant in the blink of an eye. Her ebony hair had grown since her birth, sleekly covering her scalp like a cape of soft down. Her cheeks had filled out to give her a cherub look.

  “Where’s your daddy, little girl?” Colette asked softly, rubbing the sweet softness of Brook’s cheek. “He’s missing so many things.”

  Colette closed her eyes, suddenly remembering the dream she’d experienced just before waking that morning. Unlike the recurring nightmare, this dream had warmed her and caused an ache of bereavement to sweep through her when she’d awakened.

  She’d dreamed of being in strong, protective arms, the warmth of a male body snuggled spoon fashion around her back. She’d felt a sense of belonging, a rightness in being in his arms, and she’d known the man holding her was Brook’s father, Colette’s prince.

  She’d awakened to a sense of deep loss, to loneliness and fear. Where was that man now? Why wasn’t he here with her and Brook, protecting them, loving them?

  She had a boss she suspected had hired somebody to try to kill her, another man who professed to have slept with her a single night and blatantly stated he intended to do so again. But where was the man she’d dreamed about? Someplace there was a man she’d loved and trusted. Where could he be? Why was
n’t he here with her? What possible turn of events had cast him from her life?

  The front door opened and Belinda flew in. “The horse is having a bad time, the foal isn’t turned right and we can’t get it turned. I’m supposed to call the vet.”

  She raced to the phone and quickly dialed a number. She explained the situation to whomever answered the phone then hung up again. “Don’t worry about doing anything for supper,” Belinda told Colette as she headed back toward the door. “This could take a while.”

  When Belinda left, Colette went to the front window and looked out toward the barn, where a flurry of activity seemed to be taking place. Ranch hands walked in and out, their long strides purposeful.

  On the front porch, Bulldog leaned against the railing, his moon face wistful as he gazed toward the barn. Assigned to stand guard, he was missing the drama of the foal’s birth, but Colette knew he wouldn’t shirk the duty Abby had handed him by leaving his post.

  A surge of affection for the big man swept through Colette. Other than her sisters, Bulldog was the one person Colette trusted implicitly.

  Sitting back down next to her daughter, again Colette thought of the predicament she was in…haunted by lost memories and hunted by an unknown killer.

  It would be so much easier to deal with everything if she only knew why. Why did somebody want her dead? Why had her boss threatened her? It was all so confusing.

  She froze, head tilted as she thought she heard the sound of a door clicking shut. It had come from the kitchen. The faint noise was immediately followed by the high-pitched creak of footsteps across the wooden floor.

  Someone’s in the house. The words reverberated through her head. Somebody had managed to get in the locked back door and was now making their way across the kitchen. The furtiveness of the footsteps chilled her.

  Without thought, functioning only on pure adrenaline and primal instinct, Colette scooped Brook into her arms and ran for her room.

  “Damn, damn,” she swore as she realized the bedroom door had no lock. She pressed her ear against the door and heard the faint but unmistakable sound of footsteps coming closer…closer.

  Panic swept over her, through her. She placed Brook in the crib, then ran to the large dresser. With a surge of strength she knew she’d never attain again, she shoved the dresser across the doorway.

  She tried to still her ragged breathing, stop the frantic pounding of her heart so she could hear what danger might approach. She held her breath, but heard nothing.

  Perhaps she’d overreacted. Maybe she’d only imagined she’d heard the door close softly, the furtive footsteps sliding across the floor.

  A burst of hysterical laughter threatened to erupt out of her. It was probably the wind, or the old house creaking with age. When Abby and Belinda returned to the house they would all laugh about Colette’s overreaction.

  Any hint of laughter disappeared as she saw the doorknob turn. The door cracked open only a sliver before banging into the barrier of the dresser. “Who’s there? What do you want?” Colette cried, throwing herself against the dresser as an additional barricade.

  Nobody answered. The door banged into the dresser again, this time with more force. Although she knew it was crazy, she felt the venom, the malevolence, emanating through the door.

  Bang. Bang. Bang. With increasing fierceness the door slammed into the piece of furniture. Colette screamed, torn between the need to run to the window and yell for help or maintain her position, adding her weight to fortify her makeshift barrier.

  Several more times the door banged into the dresser, then silence. The silence seemed louder than the banging as it stretched endlessly on. Colette remained with her weight against the dresser, wondering…waiting.

  What was happening? What was he doing? Was he still there, waiting for her to relax and move the dresser away from the door? Waiting for her to venture out? She was no fool. There was no way she’d do anything until she heard Abby or Belinda outside her door.

  As the silence stretched, perspiration dampened Colette’s hands and tickled her scalp. What was happening? She looked toward the window, wondering if she could get there and yell for help before another assault came at the door.

  Afraid to move, yet afraid not to, she left the dresser and reached the window. Throwing back the lacy curtains, she unlocked it. Before she could pull it open, there was a ping and the glass exploded.

  * * *

  HANK HAD BEEN KEEPING one eye on the house as everyone else’s attention was focused on the mare and the difficult birth. He knew with well-honed instincts that if somebody were to go after Colette, it would happen when everyone else was busy elsewhere.

  When he heard the telltale ping, he knew with certainty what he had just heard was the sound of a silenced gunshot. Without hesitation, he ran toward the house.

  Rather than going to the front door where Bulldog sat in one of the wicker chairs on the porch, Hank headed for the back door.

  His blood ran cold as the doorknob turned easily beneath his grasp. Unlocked. What the hell good did it do to post a guard at the front door and leave the back one unlocked?

  It took him only a moment to realize Colette wasn’t in the kitchen, nor was she in the living room. He raced toward her room, his thoughts whirling as he ran.

  He’d been the only one standing outside the barn. Apparently he’d been the only one to hear the muted gunshot. If the killer had decided to use a gun, then the gloves were off and the level of the game had changed from dangerous to deadly.

  He reached Colette’s door and tried to open it, grunting in surprise as the door slammed into something he couldn’t see.

  “Colette,” he yelled. Was he too late? Had the gunman shot her? “Colette, are you in there?” He banged on the door, urgency sweeping all other thoughts from his head.

  He gasped in relief as he heard a sob from behind the door. Another ping resounded. Colette screamed, and Hank hit the door with his shoulder summoning adequate force to wrench it open wide enough for him to crawl through.

  Immediately he took in the scene before him, relief sweeping through him as he saw Colette curled up in a corner, crying but apparently unharmed. The baby was in the crib, arms and legs waving in agitation.

  Crawling on the floor Hank made his way to the crib and picked up the baby. “Come on, Colette, we’ve got to get out of here.” Keeping lower than the window, with the baby gripped against his chest, Hank started back toward the door.

  He turned only long enough to see Colette following, then wiggled through the space of the open door and out into the hallway.

  As Colette fell into the hall, another shot pinged off the bedroom wall behind her. She screamed and put her hands over her ears, as if muting the sound might lessen the danger.

  “Come on. Let’s go.” Hank stood, grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet. “This way,” he said as he headed down the hallway back toward the kitchen.

  He could tell Colette was dazed with shock. She stumbled along beside him, passive as a bewildered child until they got to the back door, then she balked. Her eyes widened. “No…we can’t go out there. Somebody has a gun. We’ll get shot.” She stopped in her tracks. “Oh, God, what are we going to do?”

  “Colette, we have to get away from here. Right now we need to put some distance between you and this ranch. And we need to hurry, before whoever is shooting realizes we’re no longer in your bedroom.”

  He didn’t give her a chance to argue or balk again. He ran out the back door, knowing she would follow as long as he had the baby. Sure enough, after a split second hesitation, Colette fell in behind him. Hank led her around to the back side of an old shed, where his car awaited him.

  He got in and motioned Colette to the passenger side. As she slid in, he handed her the baby, started the engine and pulled out.

  He didn’t follow the drive around the front of the house, but rather took off across the pasture, knowing once they got on the other side of the grassland they’
d hit the main road.

  He’d hoped she’d remember before now. He’d hoped her memory would return and she would willingly do what needed to be done. Worse case scenario: he’d hoped to seduce her into trusting him, willingly going with him. Now it was too late to hope. Too late to do things the easy way.

  “You okay?” he asked. “The baby all right?”

  “Yes. We’re fine.” Her voice held a faraway, hollow quality. “I just don’t understand any of this.”

  “I know. I’d hoped—” He broke off, unsure what to say.

  Tightening his grip on the steering wheel, he shot a glance to Colette. She had the baby cuddled close to her chest, but still appeared dazed, numbed by the entire experience. Her face was chalk white, her eyes huge as she stared blankly straight ahead.

  Good, he thought. The last thing he needed at the moment was hysterics. Kidnapping hadn’t exactly been in his master plan, but all the ingredients had been handed to him for a perfect kidnapping. He looked at her again, wondering what her reaction would be when she realized she was his prisoner.

  * * *

  COLETTE STARED unseeing out at the passing scenery, her mind replaying those terrifying moments when the window had exploded in front of her and she realized somebody had shot at her.

  No longer was her death meant to look like a tragic accident. There was no way to make a bullet appear to be accidental.

  She shivered and hugged Brook tighter. What if one of the bullets had ricocheted off the walls and hit the baby? Apparently whoever had been shooting at her hadn’t cared, and that thought chilled her throughout.

  Beneath the fear, beyond the terror of what might have happened, a surge of anger rippled through Colette. Why was this happening to her? No matter what she might have done, what could warrant these repercussions? Why would somebody want to kill her so badly they wouldn’t care if an innocent baby got caught in the crossfire?

  Slowly, she began to pull herself away from her inner thoughts and focused out the window. They were traveling down the highway that led toward the city of Cheyenne.