by Cassie Miles
The black Ford Explorer was spotless and shiny. “This isn’t right,” she said.
“What do you mean?” Clauson asked.
She opened the driver’s-side door and peered inside. “You saw the house. Wayne was never this tidy. The side pockets of the Explorer were stuffed with credit-card receipts. On the floor in the backseat, there were crumpled-up bags from fast-food joints.”
She climbed up into the seat. “The dashboard was dusty.”
“Maybe he stopped at a car wash,” Clauson said.
Reaching across the seat, she opened the glove compartment. Inside was nothing but an owner’s manual.
“This isn’t right,” she repeated, as she leaned back in the seat and stared through the windshield at the un-painted wood wall of the garage. Her vision blurred, and she closed her eyes.
Memory of her own voice resounded loudly in her head.
“Where are we going? My God, how do we get away from here?”
In the passenger seat beside her, she saw the slouched figure of a man. Wayne. It was Wayne. His chest was covered with blood. His fingers clutched at the wound, but he couldn’t stop the bleeding. She had to get him to a doctor.
He groaned as the Explorer jolted along a narrow one-lane dirt road bordered by tall conifers on either side. Branches whipped against the car, battering the doors and windows of the car. She was driving fast, driving blind, unable to see more than twenty feet in front of her.
Dizzy from fear, she wrenched the steering wheel to stay on the path. Pain exploded in her arm where she’d been shot.
The Explorer crested a hill. Fire! She stared in terror at the line of the blaze. No one but a crazy person would continue. But she had to go this way. It was the only escape.
The road ended. They could go no farther. “Wayne, we’re going to have to go on foot.”
“Tom,” he whispered. “Tom, that bastard. He knows.”
She opened her eyes and blinked. What had Wayne meant? Tom knows. Was her stepbrother the person who’d been pursuing them? Wayne had cursed him with what seemed like his dying breath.
She needed to tell the police. Tom knows! Her memory was vivid. But did she dare trust her own shaky memory? They had just seen the photo of Wayne and Tom. Her stepbrother was on her mind. Kate couldn’t be sure that she hadn’t made this up—tailoring her recall to reflect her suspicions.
Detective Clauson touched her arm, startling her. Quickly, she said, “I know I was in this car. Wayne was in the passenger seat. He was injured. We were driving toward a forest fire.”
When she looked at Clauson, she saw disbelief in his eyes. “This vehicle,” he said, “is clean. It wasn’t anywhere near a fire.”
She couldn’t be wrong about this. Twice, she’d had a similar memory. The picture was so vivid, so impossibly accurate. She could see the low-hanging branches on the trees, could smell the smoke.
Her fingers rubbed the beige leather of the seats. “There should be bloodstains.”
“We checked,” Clauson said. “There were no blood spatters.”
Liam asked, “What did they find in the way of fingerprints?”
“Nothing much.” Clauson shrugged. “What are you getting at?”
“A hunch,” Liam said. “Would you mind checking to find out about the prints?”
The detective pulled out his cell phone. “I can do that.”
As Detective Clauson exited up the stairs into the house, Liam came to stand beside her. Lightly, he caressed her arm. “What did you remember?”
“It was the same as before.” Tremors raced up and down her spine. The terror of her escape flowed in her blood. “Only with more detail. There was a lot of blood. And I thought I heard Wayne mention my stepbrother. Tom knows.”
“What does he know?”
“I can’t say. It wasn’t clear. Maybe I’m just thinking about Tom because of the photo in Wayne’s office. I’m not sure.” Hopelessly, she gestured to the car seats. Even if they’d been cleaned in a car wash, there ought to be bloodstains in the stitching. “Maybe I’m losing my mind.”
“You’re fine,” he said.
His eyes reassured her. She slipped off the car seat and into his arms. Her cheek nestled against his soft cotton shirt, and she absorbed the warmth and security of Liam’s embrace.
A ragged breath escaped her lips. “You believe me, don’t you?”
“Yes.” He dropped a light kiss on her forehead. “When you were in the car, do you remember where you were?”
“There was a forest fire. Directly in front of the car. I was going toward it.”
“We can check this out,” he said. “I’ll contact Molly at CCC, and she can pull up a map of where forest fires were burning on that day.”
It had been a bad summer for fires in Colorado. “That might encompass quite an area.”
“Not when we combine it with where you ended up.”
“Are you sure? It seemed like I walked for miles and miles.”
His smile warmed her. “Trust me on this. I do aerial photography. I’m good with maps.”
Clauson returned to the garage. His heavy brow pulled down in a scowl. “Here’s the story on fingerprints from the vehicle,” he said gruffly. “Three different sets of unidentified prints.”
“And none of them belonged to Wayne Silverman,” Liam said.
“Correct.”
“I thought that might be the case.”
Kate glanced up at him. “I’m not sure what this means.”
“Maybe nothing,” Liam said. “But if Wayne Silverman returned this car to his garage, his prints should have been on the wheel.”
“What if he was wearing gloves?”
“It’s summer. Not the season for gloves.” Liam continued. “The fact that there are none of his prints in his own vehicle makes me think the interior of this car has either been scrubbed down or replaced.” He ran his finger along the pristine fender. “Maybe even a new paint job.”
“It’s possible,” Clauson said. “I’ll put some men out on the street to check with paint and interior detailing shops. Damn it. We should have noticed this.”
Liam was more forgiving. He’d been on the investigating end—hard, thankless work. It was impossible to think of everything. “Why would you worry about the car? It looked okay. And you don’t have a body. This is a missing-person case.”
“A very high-profile missing person.” Clauson turned to Kate. “Is there anything else? Any other memories?”
When she shook her head, Liam gritted his teeth. He wished she’d tell Clauson about Tom. If her stepbrother knew something, the police could put pressure on him. Maybe they’d get the truth.
At the same time, Liam recognized her fear—a level of panic that left her mind paralyzed and unreliable. She wasn’t sure what was truth and what was…something else.
In the meantime, the police had a solid clue to investigate with the Ford Explorer. If they were lucky, the shop that had worked on Silverman’s car would have details about who’d brought it in. And who’d paid for the repair work.
“Detective,” he said, “there’s another lead—involving Kate’s memory—that I want to track. The forest fires.”
Though Clauson scowled, he also nodded. “How?”
“Comparing maps of forest fires with the location where I found her. With aerial photos of the area, Kate might recognize the terrain.”
Clauson’s reluctance to use them in his investigation was apparent. “Where would you get these maps?”
“We can use the resources at CCC.” Though Liam was sympathetic to Clauson, he didn’t want to farm this work out to the police. “I’m an expert. I do aerial photography.”
The detective aimed a finger at Liam. “And you’ll tell me exactly what you find.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Do it,” Clauson said. “I’ll arrange for a ride to CCC.”
Finally, it seemed that they were making progress toward a solution. A good sign. Liam smiled to h
imself. Ev erything would be all right. Everything would be rosy. It had to be. Since last night, when he’d made love to Kate, his whole world was painted with an optimistic glow.
THE FIRST TIME KATE HAD been at the Colorado Crime Consultants offices in Golden, she and Liam had just fled from the vandals who’d attacked his cabin. She’d newly departed from her mountain sanctuary, and her brain had been overwhelmed—numbed by the glare of commerce and deafened by the roar of traffic and conversation.
Now that she was more acclimated to civilization, she could appreciate this charming Victorian house that had been converted to office space. Inside was a foyer with hardwood floors, an imitation Persian rug and several potted ferns. Colorado Crime Consultants was the first door to the right.
Behind the antique front desk sat Molly Griffith. Her long, blond hair swooped across her forehead, and she wore more makeup than was typical for a secretary, including turquoise eyeshadow that matched her form-fitting, gauzy blouse with tasseled sleeves. She sashayed out from behind the desk and greeted them with the genuine warmth Kate remembered.
“Hungry?” Molly asked.
“Starved,” Kate said. They hadn’t had time for breakfast.
Molly cast a chiding look at Liam. “You’ve got to feed this woman. Kate probably had better access to nutrition while she was stranded in the mountains.”
Reaching into her desk, Molly pulled out a gold-foil box and opened the lid. “It’s Godiva truffles. One of our volunteers, Dr. Blair Weston, sends a box every month. She’s a medical examiner, totally brilliant and also a chocoholic.”
Liam said, “So’s Kate.”
“Am not,” she responded.
“The only way I could lure you out of your cave was by waving a candy bar.”
Though it had only been a few days, their first meeting seemed like years ago. Hadn’t she known Liam forever?
She picked out a dark-chocolate truffle and immediately bit into it. Creamy and rich, the chocolate melted on her tongue. “Delicious.”
“Take another,” Molly said. “And you, Liam. Have some chocolate.”
Adam Briggs came out of his office. “They didn’t come here to eat.”
“You will notice,” Molly said dryly, “that I’m not offering you a piece.”
As Kate savored her chocolate, she watched the snappy interaction between Molly and Briggs, as he informed her of the deleterious effect of sugar and she countered with the emotional benefit of eating chocolate. CCC was founded eight years ago, which meant that Molly and Briggs had been together longer than a lot of married couples. Kate wondered if they had ever been more intimate than office manager and director. Probably not. Briggs was far too straitlaced.
He folded his arms across his chest and pulled in his chin. “Molly, do you have the maps Liam wanted?”
“In the conference room.”
With Molly in the lead, they entered a long room with a solid-oak table and a single large window at one end. Above the wainscoting, the walls were painted a deep red. Several framed maps hung across one wall. Molly pointed to one with a fingernail that was nearly as red as the wall color. “I think this is your work, Liam.”
“I remember,” he said. “This is the area where we located…a body.”
“A reminder,” Briggs said. “You’re lucky, Kate. Most missing-persons cases don’t have a happy ending.”
“I am lucky.” Her gaze drifted toward Liam. Meeting him might be the luckiest thing that had ever happened to her.
“Should I order lunch?” Molly asked.
“Not necessary,” Liam informed her. “We have an appointment for lunch at one. Briggs said he’d take us there.”
Briggs checked his watch. “We’ll leave at twelve hundred, to make sure we’re on time.”
“Twelve hundred?” Kate questioned.
“A military thing,” Molly said. “He means noon.”
“Half an hour from now,” Liam said. That was the time they’d arranged to meet with Mickey and his mysterious source—a meeting that Liam didn’t feel entirely comfortable about.
He would have preferred having Clauson in the picture, but there was no chance of that. Mickey, the reporter, would undoubtedly go to extreme lengths to keep his source confidential.
Liam frowned. Another secret. There were altogether too many hidden agendas in this investigation. Kate’s secrets. Mickey’s source. And now, Tom. What did Tom know?
Approaching the stack of maps on the conference-room table, Liam started shuffling through them. Not only had Molly accessed the standard GPS-satellite maps, but there were also forest-service maps and a surveyor’s chart. “Excellent job, Molly.”
“The red Xs indicate areas where there were forest fires one month ago,” she said.
It pained him to see so many red marks. Though many of Colorado’s forest fires were due to natural causes, the destruction of old-growth forests was hard to accept. Towering pines and abundant plant life were reduced to charred stubs. The earth was scorched, wildlife scattered.
“If you’ll excuse us,” Molly said. “I need to clear the schedule for a couple of hours. Briggs, come with me.”
Muttering about never having a minute to himself, he trailed her out of the conference room.
“They’re cute together,” Kate said.
“Don’t ever let Briggs hear you calling him cute.”
“They bicker like an old married couple, but you can tell they’re fond of each other.” She cocked her head to one side. “Do you think we’ll ever be like that?”
It was hard to imagine that far into the future. Their relationship could be counted in hours instead of years. “I can’t see that far ahead. The flame from last night is still too bright. And hot.”
“Hot like this?” She slipped her arm around his neck and pressed against him. Her lips met his, passionate and hungry.
A fire started in the pit of his belly. Molten heat spread through his veins as he kissed her back. He should be wary, should remember the devastation of a raging wild-fire. But her kisses felt too good. He loved the burn.
Slowly, he drew away from her. The taste of Kate and chocolate lingered on his mouth. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from her beautiful face, her enchanting blue eyes.
Hearing Molly clear her throat, he turned toward the door to the conference room in time to see the tall blonde stalk inside. Her attitude of fake indifference told him that she’d already seen their embrace.
“How are the maps?” she asked.
“I’ll need to take them with me.”
“Not a problem. These are duplicates.”
Kate backed away from him. Her cheeks flushed red, a result of either sudden passion or embarrassment. Liam couldn’t guess which, but he hoped it was the former.
She pulled out her cell phone. “I should call Mickey to confirm our appointment.”
Liam nodded, watching the casual sway of her slender hips as she left the conference room to make her call.
He and Molly gathered up the maps and filed them in an oversize, padded envelope to accommodate the varying sizes and widths.
Molly carefully folded the forest-service map and handed it to him. “You and Kate,” she said. “You look good together.”
“That’s funny.” Liam cocked an eyebrow. “We were just saying the same thing about you and Briggs.”
“That old curmudgeon? No way.” Molly tossed her hair. “I may be past thirty, but I’m not that desperate for a man.”
Glaring at her cell phone, Kate returned to the room. “I couldn’t reach Mickey. But I answered a call from my mom. She has an emergency.”
“A real emergency?” Liam questioned.
“To her, it is. Ticket sales for the summer gala on Saturday are booming, and there’s a problem with the caterer. I need to stop by Mom’s house.”
As far as Liam could see, the caterer wasn’t Kate’s problem. “Your mother can handle this.”
“She’s overwhelmed,” Kate said. “I’ve taken
care of these arrangements for years.”
“I understand,” Molly said. “I have a friend who’s a wedding planner. These big events are incredibly complicated. Why don’t I come with? I’m pretty good at organizing.”
From what Liam had seen, Molly was nearly a genius when it came to balancing the complex affairs of CCC. Kate’s mother would be lucky to have her assistance.
Briggs appeared in the doorway. “Time to go.”
Chapter Fifteen
Briggs dictated the seating arrangements for the drive into town—men in the front, women in the back.
As they headed away from the CCC offices in Golden, Liam found it difficult to be separated from Kate. He had an irrational urge to stay in physical contact, close enough to touch her silky hair and smell the wisp of perfume she’d applied this morning. The fragrance was a delicate mixture of orange blossom and musk that seemed natural, though it probably cost a small fortune.
Gradually, Liam realized, he was becoming more and more accustomed to Kate’s classy looks, her jewelry, her sophistication and her wealth. Those things were part of the total package. The RMS heiress came along with Rain. Which really wasn’t such a bad thing. How could he complain that she was too rich? Too well-connected? Too pretty?
He forced himself to tear his gaze away from her and looked at Briggs. “The bodyguards you sent to Kate’s house last night did an excellent job.”
Briggs gave a quick nod. “Good men. They like the opportunity to stretch their muscles now and again.”
“I have a feeling they stay in damn good shape.”
“Use it or lose it,” Briggs said. “At this café, is there any reason to suspect danger?”
Though Liam doubted that a hit man would strike in the middle of downtown Denver, he said, “We can’t be too cautious.”
“My thought exactly.” Briggs lifted his lapel to show the shoulder holster under his blazer. When it came to exercising the bodyguard muscles, Adam Briggs was no slouch himself. “Tell me the purpose of this meeting.”
“Mickey Wheaton is a reporter who’s done a lot of research on Kate. He claims to have a source with evidence.”
“Evidence of what?”
