The Loner

by Lindsay McKenna

  Mouth dry, she whispered, “Yes, we’re going Down Range...together.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  VANCE WELTON SMILED. They’d just stolen their third car within Yellowstone Park and were five miles away from the south entrance to the national park. Driving the speed limit, Vance told Oren, “We did some serious planning. The cops have no idea where we are.”

  Oren Hartley, twenty-nine, black hair and blue eyes, stretched out his long legs. “Well, we did this once before. We ought to get it right the second time around, don’t you think?” He absently chewed on a toothpick lodged in the corner of his mouth.

  Snorting, Oren said, “Dude, you got that right.” His short, thick hands moved firmly on the steering wheel of the stolen Toyota Camry. They’d stopped at Grant Village at a gas station and restaurant inside the park. Looking for a nondescript car had been their objective. The dark blue Camry filled the bill. It had been easy to steal it from the corner of the busy parking lot.

  Oren pushed his fingers through his short hair. “They’re gonna think we’re hiding in Yellowstone again.”

  Oren’s thin brows drew down. “Yeah, well, we aren’t making that mistake again.”

  “Hiding out in the Tetons and goin’ after that bitch, Shelby Kincaid, was a good idea,” Oren drawled. He shifted the dark sunglasses on his nose. He’d found the pair in the glove box of the car. Not only that, a suitcase in the trunk was full of men’s summer hiking clothes they could wear. Best of all, whoever the owner of the Camry was, he was about their height of five feet ten inches. Making sure they changed clothes and cars every few hours had been a major part of their plan in order to evade law enforcement. Even though the dude who owned this car would eventually walk out to find it gone, the reporting on it would take time.

  Hands tightening on the wheel, Welton snarled, “She tracked us down and put us in prison.” Thin mouth moving into a hard line, he added softly, “First things first. We’ll take one of the many dirt roads in the Tetons park, find a cabin somewhere on a slope, hide for a few days and get settled in.”

  “Goodbye, Yellowstone,” Oren sang out, lifting his hand as they drove out of the national park. He chuckled. “Dadgum, but this is easy.”

  “Don’t get too cocky, hillbilly.”

  Oren sighed. “I figure we’ll stop halfway between here and the Tetons and swap out cars. Colter Bay Village is our next stop.”

  “Yes.” They wore latex gloves to ensure that their prints would not connect them with the car theft. Vance knew law enforcement because he’d had battles with them since he was twelve years old. He’d shot a dog, and the neighbor had seen him do it. He liked to see how a bullet would kill an animal, but he really got pissed when he was thrown into the juvenile court system. It was just a stupid dog! That was all right, he got even with the neighbor who reported him to the police. At fourteen, he’d sneaked out of the house in the early morning hours and set fire to the guy’s house. And too bad, the family had died in the fire.

  Chuckling to himself, Welton felt proud that no one ever pinned that house fire on him. At an early age, he found out he liked sex, too. Never mind his father liked to play with his genitals since he could remember. Vance liked hunting down innocent little girls and sticking it to them. Of course, that came to a roaring halt when a mother discovered him with her seven-year-old daughter. At fifteen, he was once again thrown in a juvenile detention facility. Good thing his records were sealed when he turned eighteen.

  “Hey, I can hardly wait to start tracking the bitch myself.” Oren rubbed his hands together, a grin coming to his round face. He wore a blue baseball cap. They knew they had to disguise themselves in order to stay under the radar of cops and the public. “But, man, I got needs, Vance. You sure we can’t take some time out, get our rocks off and then go hunt Kincaid down?”

  Vance snarled. “Hell no! Keep it in your pants, you dumb hillbilly. I’ve been planning this for a long time and I’m damn well not diverting from it so you can screw around.”

  Oren sighed dramatically and pulled the bill of the cap lower over his eyes. “You’re no fun, partner.”

  “Kincaid caught us.” His voice lowered to a growl. “We’re sticking to my plan. That bitch, once we find her, is gonna be so friggin’ sorry she ever tracked us down in the first place.” He had nightly dreams about tying her to a bed, torturing her and then raping her. He was going to watch the fear come to her eyes, listen to her scream, watch her bleed. Oh, he’d keep her alive for a couple of weeks, torturing her daily, enjoying her pain, paying her back for what she did to them.

  Oren dug into the glove box, looking for something to eat. “I’m with you all the way, good buddy. You sure you have a place that’s hidden away so no one will ever find us?”

  A chuckle erupted from Vance. The forest was on either side of the two-lane highway, the sky a powdery-blue midafternoon. “I do. Remember? We lived in this area before we got caught? I’m going straight to Curt Downing in Jackson Hole first. We ran drugs for him. Now maybe he can help us out a little. We need a truck that isn’t stolen. He owns a trucking company. He’ll have plenty of trucks around we can use.”

  Gleefully, Oren located a couple of protein bars in the glove box and drew them out. He tossed one in Vance’s lap and tore off the wrapping on the second one. “I never trusted Downing. He’s too full of himself,” he murmured, chewing the honey-sweetened grains. “You never know what he’s thinking. And my hillbilly instincts tell me he’s not gonna be happy to see us show up.”

  “Too bad. He owes us. He just has to be reminded of it, is all. Downing can supply us with money and a truck.”

  “He’s a slick bastard, Vance. I don’t think he’s gonna willingly do anything for us.”

  “Well, we’ll have a little chat,” he said, smiling smugly. A sheriff’s cruiser passed them. They’d seen a number of law enforcement vehicles throughout the park—all looking for them. Although Vance had a bald head, he was going to let the hair and beard grow so that he wouldn’t be so easily identified.

  “There goes another deputy dawg,” Oren drawled, hooking his thumb over his shoulder.

  “They all think we’re hidden in Yellowstone. The dumb assholes.”

  “What’s first on our list?”

  “Get another car, get inside the Tetons National Park and then find us a cabin.”

  “Then go seek out Downing?”

  “In that order,” Vance said, looking in his rearview mirror to make sure that black Tahoe sheriff’s cruiser was still heading into Yellowstone. It was. Glee filled him. All the years of careful planning were finally going to pay off.

  * * *

  “THIS IS A FUBAR,” Dakota said quietly to Shelby as they stood near the rear of a multi–law enforcement meeting in Yellowstone. His eyes flashed with frustration as he watched the FBI, the U.S. Forest Service rangers and the sheriff’s deputies from two other surrounding counties standing around a huge table filled with maps of the park.

  Shelby stood next to him remembering their kiss. They had driven up on orders of Commander McCall. Leaning close, an excuse to touch him, she whispered, “Cade Garner is the only one who might be able to break this logjam. He’ll be here shortly.”

  Instinctively, Dakota inhaled her fragrance. After they’d gotten the call, their intimate time with each had come to an abrupt, jarring halt. His gaze dropped to her mouth. Instantly, his body went hot. “The right hand doesn’t know what the left hand’s doing here.” They’d stood in this room for two hours, watching reports come in on a number of stolen cars. A forest ranger had a large map hanging up on one wall and was putting red pins in it where the vehicles had been stolen. It was simple math in Dakota’s mind: the escaped convicts were stealing them, swapping out the cars, throwing law enforcement off their trail and heading south, out of the park.

  Grimacing, Shelby couldn’t disagree. Cade Garner finally entered the large, crowded room. He wore a serious expression on his face and he went directly to the FBI age
nt, Collin Woods, who was running the show.

  “We’ve got a new report of a Toyota Camry being stolen near the south gate of the park,” he told Woods, handing him the paperwork.

  Wood, who was in his mid-forties, short and lean, studied the report. He handed it to the forest ranger who was pushing red pins on the wall map. “Put it up,” he ordered.

  Cade studied the map. “These guys aren’t staying in Yellowstone,” he warned everyone. Going to the map, he traced his finger across the eastern gate highway. There were two red pins. At the main intersection, where the highway went south, there were now three red pins.

  Woods scowled. “Vance Welton and Oren Hartley hid for two weeks near Norris Basin in this park. They aren’t going to change their modus operandi.”

  Shelby moved her head, a silent gesture to tell Dakota to follow her. She was the only woman present. He gave her a bare nod in return and they moved around the group huddled around the table. Garner’s face went dark with anger. His eyes flashed. He was a good sheriff’s deputy, now number-two man in the Tetons County department.

  “No?” Cade Garner jammed his index finger into the third red pin area. “That stolen car is only twenty-two miles from the south entrance to the park.”

  “You’re assuming it’s them,” Woods said, impatient.

  “Damn right I am,” Garner breathed, holding his anger in tight check. He turned to Shelby. “You tracked these sick bastards before. Does this look like their M.O.?” he asked.

  Shelby noticed the dismissive look Woods gave her. He was an arrogant little man in a black suit, white shirt and dark blue tie. She moved her finger along the highway at the east gate entrance. “Yes, it does, Cade. Look here.” She brought her finger to Norris Basin, in the northwestern area of the park. “When I was tracking them, they had already turned south and were heading in the direction of the south gate entrance on foot.”

  “You can’t be sure of that,” Woods spouted. “You can’t read their minds.”

  Dakota stepped around Shelby, glaring into Wood’s arrogant face. “Listen, she’s a tracker. In order to successfully track a target, you have to get inside the head of the escapee. She knows what the hell she’s talking about.” He loomed over the agent, who cowered beneath each of his carefully enunciated words. Woods took a step back, scowling up at Carson.

  “And just who are you?” Woods challenged.

  Dakota was the only man in civilian clothes, dressed in jeans, a red polo shirt and hiking boots in the room. He stood out like a sore thumb.

  “Agent Woods,” Shelby spoke up, her voice strong and brooking no argument, “this is Dakota Carson. Our commander requested his aid. He was a U.S. Navy SEAL, a tracker and sniper in his platoon.”

  Woods shrugged. “Whatever...we’re not over in Afghanistan.”

  Cade Garner moved a step closer toward the FBI agent. “Agent Woods, you obviously don’t appreciate what SEALs do. Mr. Carson has a lot of experience tracking in some of the worst places in the world, and successfully tracking down the enemy. We need him on this hunt for a thousand good reasons.”

  Quirking his thin mouth, Woods said, “Great. This is just what I need.”

  Dakota’s right hand curled slowly into a fist. The little bastard. He had respect for all law enforcement but they’d been cursed with one bad apple. He gave Cade a warning look. This agent didn’t know squat.

  Most of the men were restless, wanting to do something other than standing for hours in this room trying to figure out the location of Welton and Hartley.

  “Mr. Woods, with all due respect, Deputy Kincaid tracked these two sexual predators and murderers for two weeks here in Yellowstone. The dogs lost their trail a number of times, but she never did. Your presumptions about my team are baseless,” Cade Garner said.

  Shelby felt Dakota tense behind her. He came and stood at her shoulder. Automatically, she moved her hand back, warning him to remain silent. This was a turf war between Garner and Woods.

  Woods shrugged. “The FBI has trackers, too,” he flung out defensively to the group.

  “They didn’t find these two the last time,” Garner reminded him acidly. “It was Shelby Kincaid, a sheriff’s deputy. She was born here and she knows the land like the back of her hand,” he said in a low voice.

  “I wasn’t on that case. I’m on this one and it will be different.”

  Shelby almost laughed. She placed her hand against her mouth so Woods wouldn’t catch her smiling.

  Garner drew himself up, his eyes slits as he surveyed the tense room. “Gentlemen, we’ve got two of the worst sexual predators in our county loose.” His voice dropped to a warning rasp. “And I’ll be damned if anyone is going to get caught up in the fact that our best tracker is a woman and damned good at what she does.”

  Garner turned, jamming a finger at the map. “My instincts are screaming at me that these two are already out of the park and heading south. I’m calling my commander, alerting him to just that and seeing if another car gets stolen between here and Jackson Hole. These guys have a plan, Agent Woods. And I’m not wasting one more minute of my time here in this damned room. We must follow the string of stolen cars. It’s our only choice.”

  Dakota felt himself imploding with rage. He wanted to jerk Woods up by his expensive black suit lapels and pin his scrawny ass on that wall map. Ellie had been tortured and raped and had died at the hands of these two convicts. He felt Shelby’s cool fingers pulling his fist apart, lacing them between his own. It broke the circuit of his building anger. She looked up, met his gaze, and barely shook her head. How did she know he was ready to kill the little weasel?

  “Well, you go right ahead and call your commander,” Woods said. “This is our command post.”

  Cade gestured to Shelby and Dakota to follow him. “Fine. You call me when you think you know what the hell you’re doing. The evidence that Welton and Hartley are heading south toward Jackson Hole is as plain as those red tacks on the map.”

  Shelby kept her mouth fixed to stop her smile. Woods smirked, lifted his chin at an imperious angle as Cade spun on his heel and strode toward the door.

  She turned and followed him. So did Dakota.

  Once outside the building, Cade turned to them. He glanced at his watch. “Okay, there’s nothing you two can do right now. If we can’t find these two, you can’t track them.”

  Dakota liked the way the deputy thought. “Why would they not hide in the park again? They managed to evade everyone for two weeks.”

  Cade’s expression became grim. His gaze moved to Shelby. “I didn’t want to say anything in there, Shelby, but my gut’s screaming something else at me. It would explain why they’re not trying to hole up in Yellowstone.”

  She frowned. “What?” Rarely had she seen her boss this worried. Or tense.

  “Don’t you see, Shelby? Those convicts are coming after you.”

  Shocked, she stared up at Cade. Her mouth dropped open for a second, considering the possibility. “I—never thought about that.”

  “I’m worried for you. You’re the one who put them away. Vance Welton is well-known to get even, to take revenge on anyone who crosses him. You have his file, you know his background. It can’t be lost on you that if he ever escaped, he’d want to finish business with you first.”

  For a moment, Shelby stood and allowed the idea to sink in. Dakota’s hand on her shoulder felt stabilizing. “I wasn’t thinking in that direction,” she choked out. It made perfect sense.

  Cade looked around the busy parking lot filled with tourists. Keeping his voice down, he took a step toward them. “Look, I hope like hell I’m wrong, Shelby.”

  “You’re not,” Dakota growled. “I came to the same conclusion a while ago.”

  Cade nodded, grim. “You’re good at this, Dakota. You might not be in law enforcement, but you have one hell of a wolf nose on you. We have two things we must do. First, see if another tourist reports a stolen car on the south highway out of Yellowstone. That wou
ld be the Colby Bay Village area. Second—” his gaze burrowed into hers “—we need to get you to a safe house, Shelby. If Welton and Hartley are around, they’re going to watch and wait for the right moment to grab you out of your home.”

  Shelby automatically wrapped her arms across her chest. Vance Welton was a sexual predator from seven years old onward. There were two cold cases involving other young women in Cody, Wyoming. They had been kidnapped, tortured for weeks, raped innumerable times before their throats were slit. Law enforcement was sure this was Welton and Hartley’s work. It was their M.O. Unfortunately, the law couldn’t get enough evidence to prove it. And neither of the two would admit doing it during interrogation for Ellie Carson’s murder.

  Shelby had attended the trial for the murder of Ellie Carson for only one day, but it was one she’d never forget. Shelby shut her eyes, remembering the event. Remembering how the body of beautiful Ellie Carson flashed across a screen to show the jury just exactly what Hartley and Welton had done to her. A tremor passed through Shelby, the horrifying color photos never forgotten.

  Dakota placed his hand on her shoulder. He saw the shock registering in her eyes and wanted to protect her. These two murderers would never get near her. “She’s got a safe house, Cade.”

  “What?” Shelby twisted a look up at his hard, unreadable face. The man she knew was no longer present. This was the SEAL warrior and she could feel the tension radiating around him like a thunderstorm about to unleash its destructive power.

  Cade looked at her and then over at Dakota. “Your cabin?”

  “That’s right. It’s damn near impregnable. One way in and one way out. Most people can’t even locate the road.” He dug into Shelby’s widening eyes as she realized what they were talking about. “You’ll stay with me, Shelby. Those two gomers won’t be able to find you. They might find out where you live, but you aren’t going to be there. Not until we can apprehend these bastards.”

  Shelby stood mute for a moment, considering all the ramifications. She felt Dakota’s fingers dig a little more firmly into her shoulder, as if to keep her from protesting.