Blue was not a complete hick. He knew that people didn’t live happily ever after with someone just because they kissed. Heck, he had kissed plenty of girls, and it had never amounted to more than a roll or two in the hay. And even those encounters had never amounted to more than brief flings with girls who had higher ambitions than a serious romance with a dumb cowboy.
Somehow, Mitzi was different. She didn’t treat him like he was dumb, didn’t eyeball him like a wolf watching a newborn calf, didn’t show off or try to prove how lucky he was that she even took note of him. She listened to what he had to say. Despite what he implied, he recognized that she had tried to maintain some kind of professional distance. She was tough in her own right, and smart, and brave in the face of a nightmare most women he had known would just run screaming away from.
But she had called him out for thinking out loud in a territory he was unfamiliar with. He did want to take her to Kansas and tempt her with the beauty of a simple life without all the complications of city living. He wanted her to want to stay there with him, and see if there was anything more than attraction to build on.
Her cold response had thrown him off guard, made him backtrack. Made him try to catch back his dignity by attacking hers. To his chagrin, it had worked.
Now he didn’t know what to say or do, except what Daddy always told him to do: the next right thing. At the moment, the next right thing was to wait.
At last the news began. He turned the volume up a tad, as if doing so would help them hear good news.
“In local news, there have been developments in the two big stories we have been following.
“First, a spokesman for Denver’s Mayor Wharton has announced that the search for her daughter has been modified to a search and recovery effort. The FBI agent assigned to the case has indicated that there’s no reason to believe this has been a kidnapping. This news comes as a shock to most, as it is highly unusual to capitulate so early in a high-profile case like this. Experts are speculating that there has been some external indication that the girl has been killed, which has not been released to the press. But at this time our sources close to the police department and the Mayor’s office have been unable to determine what is in fact going on.”
Blue looked at Mitzi and saw her looking at the radio as if she would climb inside it to figure out what all that meant. He was about to ask what she thought, when the newscaster went on.
“In late-breaking news, the partner of murder suspect Mitzi Reardon was admitted to a local hospital late last night. He was dropped off by a Good Samaritan, who left him at the emergency entrance and went on his way before anyone could ask questions. Detective Justin Harris suffered blunt force trauma to the back of his head and was unconscious all night. Because he had no wallet or identification on him, hospital staff didn’t know who he was until he awoke late today. Harris is experiencing memory loss regarding the trauma, but police are speculating that he discovered Reardon’s activities and she attacked him from behind, then tried to make it look like a robbery. We’ll have more on this story as it develops.”
“Oh, Justin,” Mitzi said, and Blue heard a pack of mixed emotions in her voice: anger, regret, fear, concern.
“In the ongoing investigation of the murder of a Denver woman, the police have named an accomplice. Blue Thomas of Syracuse, Kansas, was seen with rogue detective Mitzi Reardon at Denver Public Library’s central branch, where the two were apparently attempting to use the public computer terminals to purchase airline tickets in order to flee the country.”
Mitzi turned to look at him, and they stared at each other as the announcer continued. “Thomas is twenty-five years old, and described as six foot four, two hundred twenty pounds, with crew cut, short blond hair, and brown eyes. He was wearing a dark brown t-shirt and faded blue jeans, and a tan Stetson cowboy hat.”
Blue felt himself sinking lower in the car seat as the newscaster went on. “Reardon is twenty-six years old, five foot five, one hundred fifty pounds, with shoulder-length curly dark brown hair, and brown eyes. She was last seen wearing a gold CU hoodie, black sweat pants, and a black CU baseball hat.
“We have an audio clip here from a press conference a few hours ago, where Chief of Police Winston Hatfield had this to say about the fugitives: ‘Both Reardon and Thomas are wanted for questioning and detention, but must be considered armed and extremely, extremely dangerous. Reardon is obviously unstable, and Thomas is a wild card. We’re asking the general public to be extra vigilant and report any sightings to Denver PD immediately. My officers have been authorized to use whatever means necessary to subdue and neutralize the threat posed by these dangerous fugitives.’”
Blue could scarcely conceive of what the police chief meant, calling him a dangerous fugitive. It felt like one of those moments when the cattle in the truck start crashing around, right before the ramp comes down and they stampede out into the corral. It felt like he was frozen to the spot, right in the path of thousands of pounds of angry beef.
Like a nightmare, the newscaster went on. “Our research team contacted law enforcement in Syracuse in order to get an idea of the sort of man Thomas is, but the Hamilton County Sheriff’s office would say only that they had no criminal record for anyone by that name. Thomas’s parents expressed confusion about the possibility of their son being in trouble with the law. His father, Colton Thomas, had this to say: ‘Blue is a good boy, ain’t never hurt no one. Why don’t you people ask him yourself?’”
At the sound of his father’s quavering voice, Blue turned the sound down and hung his head, overcome with so many different emotions he didn’t know what he was feeling.
“Blue.” Mitzi’s soft words barely registered. “I am so sorry.”
He could feel tears starting up in his eyes, and he blinked rapidly, trying to force them down. “He sounds so tired,” he said, “and now.... Good grief, what he must think. I should have been calling them regular.”
“The vultures.” Mitzi’s vehemence startled him out of his reverie. “I bet the TV stations are plastering your high school picture all over, and interviewing all your old girlfriends. The online news sites probably have headlines about the Cowboy Cutie Connected to Colorado Killing.”
Her alarm was starting to infect him too, and he clamped down on it. “Not helping, Miss Mitzi,” he said firmly. “Can’t lose your head when the bull gets between you and the fence.”
“What?”
“All we can do is focus on the task at hand, and trust the story will get straightened out in the long run.”
She took a deep breath. “Of course you’re right. I just hate to think of the media sniffing through your personal life, looking for any little treat to make into a story. I just know that is exactly what Hatfield is counting on, letting them do the dirty work so that he can cash in on it and use it to find us. We have got to end this, and soon.”
“How much longer before we can go?” he asked, looking out the window at the sky, willing darkness to come. It appeared to be a good hour yet till sunset, though here in the shadow of the Rockies, twilight came on faster than it did on the plains at home.
“Half an hour, I think. I’m working on a plan of advance, but I don’t think we should try to go into the apartment. If we see any activity, I’ll call Mack and get him to rally the forces.”
Blue pulled himself away from the chaotic thoughts about his own situation and remembered what the newscaster had said about the kidnapping case. “Do you really think they killed her?”
Mitzi took her time answering. “I don’t know. It might be tactical, to get the kidnappers to make a mistake. I have heard Mayor Wharton is harder on her husband than she is on criminals, but I can’t imagine Cantrell would sanction killing his own stepdaughter. It seems more likely his goal is to come out of this a hero, make himself look good in his wife’s eyes. If so, the goal wasn’t thought through very well. People do insane things for love.”
“That’s not love,” Blue said, thinking of a
song favored on the classic rock radio station back home. “You’ve got the wrong emotion.”
Chapter Fourteen
Agent Maxon slipped the headset on and motioned for Mayor Wharton to pick up the ringing phone. She snatched it off the cradle and held it to her ear.
“Wharton,” she said sharply.
Through the headset, Maxon heard faint, raspy breathing. Before words were even spoken he deduced the caller was probably using one of those smart phone apps to change his voice and the caller ID.
“Put the fed on the phone,” the distorted voice said slowly.
“Is she alive?” the Mayor asked, her knuckles white with her grip on the phone.
“Put the fed on the phone,” the voice repeated.
Maxon took off the headset and held out his hand. All bravado fled from Suzanne’s face as she held out the phone with a shaking hand. All that remained was a mother who was terrified for her child.
Putting the phone to his ear, Maxon turned slightly away from her so he wouldn’t be distracted by her tortured expression. “This is Agent Arlen Maxon, FBI.”
“The child is alive, Agent Maxon,” the voice said. “For now.”
“You know how this works,” Maxon replied. “If the child dies, there will be no ransom.”
“Oh, I know. We dance a treacherous tango, Agent Maxon. I kill her, I don’t get paid. You don’t pay, I kill her. I get away, you lose. You win, everybody loses.” The voice paused to let that threat sink in.
“I want proof of life,” Maxon stated.
“You’ll get it. Have her honor ready with two million in small denomination bills. I’ll call again at dawn with the details.”
The line went dead. Maxon looked down at the tech with the laptop, who shook his head.
“The call was too short,” the tech said. “We got it as far as Englewood, but not close enough to pin down.”
“Spoof app, wasn’t it?” he asked, to get confirmation.
“Affirmative. The number came up in our database as,” the tech looked down at the screen, “some hotel in Kansas.”
“Kansas?”
“Yessir. Hamilton County.”
Maxon glanced at the Mayor, who had allowed her husband to approach and comfort her. “Something doesn’t smell right. Why Kansas?” He snapped his fingers at his partner, who was at the other end of the room monitoring the local news stories on a bank of flat panel televisions. “That rogue cop, the one who shot the hooker. Isn’t her accomplice from Kansas?”
Agent Phillips looked up at him. “Yeah. Blue Thomas from Syracuse. They’re saying he’s desperate for money. Bank is set to take the family ranch away.”
Maxon turned back to the Mayor and her husband. “We may have just gotten the luckiest break ever,” he said. Or, he thought, we’re getting played.
⋘⋆⋙
As evening clouds closed down and twilight settled in, Mitzi noticed that Blue looked as twitchy as she felt. This waiting was nearly intolerable. No matter how much she told herself it was just another shift on surveillance, the stakes were too high. Too many lives were on the line.
“Dark enough?” Blue asked, for at least the fifth time.
“Okay,” she sighed. “Let’s go.”
Blue was out his door and halfway around to her side of the car before she even finished speaking. She put her hand on the door latch, but he was there, opening it for her and offering his hand to help her out.
“Easy, big guy.” She laughed, despite the tension she knew they both felt. She stood up but didn’t release his hand. Humor fled as she framed her next words.
“If there’s one thing I have learned over the years, it’s that rushing into an unknown situation is a great way to ruin a tactical advantage at best, or get killed at worst. Anything in between won’t be much better.”
Searching his face, she tried to make sure he was listening. “We’re going to walk into the center of that park, and cautiously make our way to the trees near the playground. You’re going to stay behind me, and if I say run, you’re going to find cover and get out of there. I’m not messing around here. One of us has to call Mack if something goes wrong, and that won’t happen if both of us get caught or shot.”
“I have the number you gave me in my pocket,” he said. “But....”
“No ‘buts,’ Blue. You run. If you can’t promise me that, then you have to wait in the car. I mean it. You’re a civilian, and unarmed. I can’t...I won’t risk you.”
“Won’t risk me what?” His words held a defiant edge as he looked down at her, and she wished she could see his eyes under the shadow of his hat.
“I won’t risk you, period. The only reason I’m letting you come along is because I don’t think we’ll have to go up to the apartment.” She held up her hand to forestall his argument. “If the unit is dark, we leave. We see a light, we call Mack. No heroics, nothing but the smart move. The best way to handle a critical situation is to avoid it. First lesson in tactics. Are you on board with that? Because we can leave right now if you’re not going to promise to do exactly what I say.”
Mitzi was banking on him and his honor code both to be honest and to follow through on his promises. She stared up at him, trying to give her toughest, no-nonsense look. The light was fading fast, and she couldn’t be sure, but she thought she saw defeat in his eyes.
“I promise,” he muttered, sounding every bit like a fractious child.
“Good,” she said. Before she stepped away from the car, she gave her purse a pat to make sure the Mosquito was inside. She pulled on the ball cap and then nodded to Blue. He shut the car door, and they turned together to cross the deserted street.
They walked over the sidewalk and into the park. Rather than hop the paved drainage ditch that ran diagonally across the park, they skirted its length.
Sensing that Blue wasn’t behind her, Mitzi turned to check on him and saw him standing close to a tree, looking over his shoulder at her. She almost called out to him before she realized what he was doing.
“Men,” she muttered as he jogged to catch up to her.
As they continued, it immediately became apparent that Mitzi’s boots—those stupid four-inch heels—were going to be a problem.
Rather than continue to pull the spikes out of the soggy ground, she paused long enough to unzip and kick them off. Her toes squished into sod still wet from yesterday’s rain, but she felt more sure-footed and confident without them. It was tempting to leave them behind, but they were expensive. She picked up the boots and held them by their laces in her left hand.
Blue watched all of this patiently, and when she moved out again, he was right behind her. By the time they crested the low rise and reached the trees lining the playground, full dark had fallen.
Nothing moved among the play structures, but Mitzi pulled out the Mosquito anyway, pointing it forward and down. She kept her finger off the trigger, even though she had checked before they left the car to make sure there was no round in the chamber and the safety was on.
Letting her boots fall to the ground, she motioned for Blue to stay behind her even though she doubted he could see. She crept forward a few feet, moving clear of the overhanging tree branches so she could see the unit.
With all her senses on high alert, she tried to control the hammering of her heart so she could hear if anyone other than Blue was moving around. The rush of blood in her ears masked even the sound of traffic that should have been audible from the highway half a mile away.
Thanks to the cloud cover, it was so dark she could hardly even make out the play structures, much less the construction site. Trees blocked the street lights from shining through to the playground. Everything was shadows upon shadows.
It’s too dark over here, she realized. No security lights, even though every contractor she knew had them to help protect their sites from copper thieves.
“I don’t think they’re here.” Her whisper, though quiet, sounded like a shout to her ears. She didn’t believe he
r own words, though, given the measures taken to keep the place dark.
“No, look, I can see a light.” Blue’s whisper was urgent, seeming loud even though she knew it was little more than a breath in her ear. “Very faint. Looks like they’ve put a blanket over the window.”
She strained her eyes in the direction she thought the unit must be in, then she thought she saw it, too. A thin glow of light made a square, hovering off the ground at a height she thought might be thirty feet, though the darkness thwarted her perception.
“Got it,” she sighed, and reached in her purse for the burner phone. Pressing the button to turn it on, she waited anxiously for it to cycle through its startup. She had taken precautions to silence all the volume controls and had preprogrammed Mack’s number into it with a one-touch button, all to ensure a swift and effective call for backup.
What she failed to account for, however, was the light of the screen. For a brief second Mitzi and Blue were illuminated in light so bright it hurt their eyes.
“Gah!” she exclaimed, then quickly hit Mack’s speed-dial button and put the phone up to her ear to try to block the light.
What happened next was a confused blur of actions.
Blue grunted in the same instant that something hit her from out of the darkness, knocking the cell phone out of her hand. She heard the phone hit a tree and couldn’t see its light anymore, so she had to assume it had been broken.
But the phone was secondary to dealing with her assailant. The initial strike knocked her to the ground, and she quickly rolled to the side, trying not to be where they expected her to be. If the darkness was a factor for her, it would be for them too. She just hoped whoever it was hadn’t learned the position of the trees in daylight.
She rolled up against one of those trees. With her pistol still firmly gripped in her hand, she couldn’t see a thing and wasn’t about to fire blindly into the darkness. She sat up and put the tree at her back, trying to still her breathing. Just then the “tree” moved, and she realized she had rolled up against someone’s legs.
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