Rocky Mountain Manhunt

by Cassie Miles

  She picked up the woven basket she had filled with stones, one for each day of hiding. She would take this back to Denver as a reminder. Twenty-eight days of wilderness sanctuary. Twenty-eight days that had changed her life.

  Liam spread out their supplies and lit up a Coleman lantern.

  “Too bright,” she said, shielding her eyes.

  “We’re going to need light. We have work to do tonight.”

  Though she agreed, Kate would much rather spend their night in the mountains in more pleasurable endeavors. Making love in the starlight. Reveling in the silence. Being part of the forest.

  Apparently, Liam had a different agenda. He pointed into her shallow cave and said, “Show me the money.”

  The farthest point in her cave was only twelve feet from the opening. She crawled inside, removed the rocks she’d piled over the cache and took out the bundle wrapped in an old T-shirt.

  Feeling like a squirrel who had just raided her own storehouse, she brought the treasure to Liam, who sat just inside the cave’s opening.

  He unwrapped the T-shirt. Neatly banded bundles of hundred-dollar bills fell on the dirt cave floor.

  “Damn,” he said. “This is craziness.”

  She opened the pouch containing the jewelry and removed two diamond tennis bracelets and a flashy gold-and-diamond necklace.

  “I still don’t remember this piece,” she said. The design of the necklace was relatively simple—a choker with three strands of diamonds. At the center was a larger stone in an emerald cut. Even without a jeweler’s loupe, Kate could tell that the centerpiece diamond wasn’t of the highest quality.

  “What do you think it’s worth?” Liam asked.

  “Hard to guess. There’s a lot of ice. Probably several thousand dollars.”

  “And you don’t remember your mother wearing this necklace?”

  “It must be new. Maybe it was a recent gift from Peter.” She dangled the sparkling gems from her fingers. “This style seems like something he’d choose. A lot of flash. But the centerpiece stone is a bit cloudy.”

  “It could be that your mother didn’t like it.”

  “Entirely possible,” she said. “Elizabeth prefers quality to excessive display. She’d rather have one perfect diamond on a simple chain.”

  “Tomorrow, we’ll find out if the necklace belonged to her.”

  “How?”

  “I hate to bring this up.” His eyes were tinged with regret. “It’s about Mickey. He said two words before he passed out. Stanhope Jeweler.”

  The reminder of Mickey and the beating he’d taken sent a shiver down her spine. It was awful to think that these jewels might have caused that attack. Even worse, this treasure might have played a part in Wayne Silverman’s death.

  Seen in that context, the diamonds seemed ugly to her. She dropped the necklace back into the pouch. “My family has done business with Stanhope before. They’ll talk to me.”

  Liam reached toward her. His hand rested on her knee. “We’ll figure this out. The next time, when you go back to town, you won’t have to worry about danger. You’ll be safe.”

  “Being here like this…” Her words trailed off in a wistful sigh. She leaned her back against the cave wall. “I almost wish I didn’t have to go back.”

  “You’d be bored if you stayed in the mountains,” he said. “I’ve seen you in action. The social events, RMS and the charity stuff. Not to mention the makeovers, the stylists and the manicures.”

  “Is it really that much?”

  “You’re in a constant whirlwind,” he said. “It’s who you are.”

  “I’d rather be Rain.”

  In Liam’s hazel eyes, she saw confirmation that he wished for the same thing. He cared about Rain—more than he could about Kate Carradine. She said, “You like that part of me.”

  “I do,” he said. “A basic, uncomplicated woman. Purely natural.”

  Gently, his hand stroked her cheek. His fingers traced the outline of her chin and her lips. “Beautiful,” he said.

  She remembered the first time he’d told her that he liked the way she looked. Rather, he liked the way Rain looked.

  His hand glided down her shoulder, and he straightened the zipper on the oversize sweatshirt she wore for warmth. “A strong woman,” he said. “Pretty and smart and—”

  “Stop it,” she muttered. “I’m starting to feel jealous.”

  “Of yourself?”

  “Of the woman I can never really be.”

  As Rain, she was a free spirit with no past and no responsibilities beyond simple survival. As Rain, she wasn’t embarrassed to dance in a mountain meadow and celebrate the moonlight.

  Truly, that was a part of her. But not her whole life. Rain was also limited, just as a child who knew nothing more of her surroundings than the immediate sights and sounds.

  After a while, Rain’s lifestyle would become tedious. Kate Carradine was far too jaded and experienced to live in a wonderland of innocence.

  She pointed to the folders he’d carried with them. “Let’s get started.”

  Since Liam had already studied the documents from Rachel Robertson, he kept those spreadsheets. Kate had the financial printouts from RMS. “What are we looking for?” she asked.

  “Evidence of embezzlement. That seems like the most obvious crime.”

  “Too obvious.” She glared at the neatly organized financial statements. “These numbers are thoroughly checked and audited.”

  “Wayne Silverman’s job,” he said. “Overseeing the legal aspects of the audits.”

  “But he couldn’t have tampered with this data. There are invoices, receipts and documentation.”

  “We’ll make a comparison and look for discrepancies,” he said. “The link between Rachel’s charity and RMS is contributions. I’ll read off her deposits from RMS, and you check the RMS documents to see if there’s a corresponding donation.”

  They went through a fiscal year’s worth of donations without finding any difference.

  Kate wasn’t surprised. RMS was a large company, professionally run. Their records had to be accurate. At the same time, she knew that with a multitiered, complex system, there were also possibilities for error.

  Liam sat opposite her in the cave. His long legs stretched out straight in front of him. She reached over with her bare toes and pushed against the scuffed soles of his boots.

  He glanced up from his scrutiny of the pages. “What is it?”

  “We need to be more imaginative,” she said. “Why would Mickey have wanted us to look at these documents?”

  “Numbers are numbers, Kate. They don’t lie.”

  “But they might be hiding something.”

  “Like what?”

  She tucked her bare feet underneath her. With both hands, she formed a headline. It was Mickey’s favorite gesture. “Ten billion dollars,” she said.

  She dropped her hands. In a quiet voice, she added, “Eleven thousand.”

  “I get it,” he said. “Throw out a huge number, and the smaller amount seems insignificant.”

  More than anyone else at RMS, Kate was aware of the vast expenditures involved in putting together a charity event. For something huge, like the summer gala and silent auction, there were expenses that ranged from the rental of a ballroom at the exclusive Brown Palace Hotel to tips for valet parking.

  “Here’s what we need to look for,” she said. “What were Rachel’s expenses for last year’s summer gala?”

  “Why would she have any costs? This is supposed to work to her benefit.”

  “And it does,” Kate said. “But there are always expenses.”

  Liam peered at the numbers. “Invitations. Printing. Thank-you gifts. A luncheon for her board of directors. She paid for framing some artwork. Some flowers. You’re right—this stuff adds up. Roughly, the total is about two thousand.”

  Kate scanned her own sheet. “Exactly $2,174.21. That’s the amount RMS cut her a check for.”

  Liam scann
ed the pages once, then again. “I don’t see it. Rachel never recorded that check.”

  “Because she never received it,” Kate said triumphantly. “And, of course, she never mentioned the amount to me. RMS donated over a hundred grand. She wasn’t going to quibble about a couple thou.”

  “So let’s assume Wayne Silverman discovered this discrepancy,” Liam said. “What difference would it make? This seems like such a piddling amount.”

  “The tip of the iceberg,” she said.

  Kate slid her finger down the page. She found double payments for uniforms for a softball league, and a check to a florist who she knew had donated his services.

  If she went through all the accounting for all the various charities RMS supported, the siphoning off of cash in small amounts would add up to a very healthy total. “And I know who’s doing it,” she said.

  A clear picture formed in her mind. Her mother generally took responsibility for presenting the donation checks to the various charities. In the case of a large donation, Elizabeth’s visit was a public-relations event. Photographs were taken of Elizabeth Carradine shaking hands and smiling as she handed over a check.

  Always at her mother’s side was Peter Rowe. He flashed his photogenic smile for the camera, and he handled the checks so Elizabeth wouldn’t have to be bothered.

  “It’s Peter,” she said.

  “I hate to poke holes in this theory,” he said. “But wouldn’t the checks be made out to the charities?”

  “Not necessarily. Some of the contributions—especially those considered to be petty cash—come from the family’s personal funds. It’s a tax write-off for the Carradines. If we were legal auditors, like Wayne, we could nail down this evidence.”

  “You’re right. It’s Peter Rowe. He’s the embezzler.” Liam’s fingers drew into a fist. “And we’ve got him.”

  Finally, they had evidence that could be verified, penny by penny. Her stepfather had been stealing from RMS and the charities the family funded. “In his legal capacity, Wayne must have found out,” she said. “Like we did. Then, Wayne set out to blackmail my stepfather.”

  “You’re brilliant, Kate.”

  She smiled at him and winked. “I know.”

  “We can speculate about what happened next. But we’ll never know for sure unless Peter decides to confess.”

  “Let’s speculate.” She scooted across the cave and sat beside him. “I like being brilliant.”

  Liam draped his arm around her shoulders in a casual, comfortable gesture. Together, they worked out a scenario. When Wayne had brought her to the mountains, supposedly for a camping trip, he’d expected to receive a blackmail payment from Peter Rowe. Peter had delivered the cash and the jewels, and Wayne had loaded it all in his backpack. Then Peter had changed his mind.

  “Maybe Wayne got greedy,” she said. “Maybe he asked for more money.”

  “The downfall of all blackmailers,” Liam said. “And Peter shot him.”

  “That still doesn’t explain one important detail,” she said. “Why did Wayne bring me along?”

  “He wanted a witness,” Liam suggested. “Wayne figured that your stepfather would never do anything to harm him if you were waiting in the car.”

  She frowned. That explanation didn’t quite ring true. Her involvement was more complicated than merely being a witness. Had she plotted this whole scheme with Wayne Silverman? Not possible!

  But her long-term memory had pretty much returned, and she couldn’t remember discussing blackmail. Be sides, Kate knew in her heart that she would never go along with a plan that took money away from the charities she loved. She wouldn’t want to hurt RMS. Or her mother. Poor Elizabeth! She’d be devastated to know that her husband was a criminal.

  Kate leaned her head on Liam’s shoulder. Had they figured it out correctly? Was this the final solution? Somehow, it seemed too easy. She didn’t think they’d taken everything into account. And they didn’t really have proof that Peter had murdered Wayne Silverman.

  Bottom line: they’d never know the whole truth until her memory returned.

  THE NEXT MORNING, LIAM DIDN’T want to open his eyes. Inside a double sleeping bag, he was snuggled with Kate. Their legs entwined. Her sensuous, slender body pressed against him, and he wished he could nest here forever. Safe and quiet. The mountains were his true home. His heart was here. I don’t want to get up. Don’t want to leave.

  Because, he suspected, today was going to be a bitch.

  Though they’d figured out one big piece of the puzzle, their investigation wasn’t over by a long shot. While they had the chopper, he wanted to fly over possible areas where Kate might have seen the fire, in the hopes that her memory might kick in. Then, there were phone calls to make. Lots of angry people to talk to, notably Detective Clauson, who could follow up on their embezzlement theory.

  Liam exhaled slowly. If they were right about blackmail and murder, Clauson could make an arrest and Kate would be safe.

  But he didn’t want to take her back to her world. He wanted to keep his natural woman hidden away with him in the mountain wilderness.

  She wiggled around beside him, and he felt her mouth nuzzling below his chin.

  “No,” he murmured. “I don’t want to wake up.”

  She kissed his cheek. “It’s a beautiful dawn. All pink and moist.”

  “Like you.” He glided his hand down her back and cupped her firm, rounded butt. “Let’s stay here.”

  “I’d like that,” she said. “But I think a search party might notice the helicopter parked in the field.”

  Reluctantly, he opened his eyes.

  She was about six inches away from his face. She cocked her head to one side, then the other, then she leaned in and kissed his nose.

  “You’re chipper this morning,” he said.

  “I’m brilliant. You said so yourself.”

  Brilliant and sexy. He pulled her close and gave her a real wake-up kiss.

  The teasing went out of her, replaced by a different sort of tension. She wrapped her legs around him. Her body rubbed against his.

  Liam enfolded her in his arms. Waking up wasn’t so bad, after all.

  AFTER THEY’D HAD COFFEE made on the Coleman stove and loaded their gear into the chopper, it was still early morning—a little before eight o’clock. Liam tossed her the cell phone. “Try calling your stepbrother.”

  “Tom won’t be awake.” She flipped open the phone and studied the display. “No signal.”

  He’d suspected as much. They were in a remote area, surrounded by high cliffs. “We’ll try him later.”

  “What will I tell him?” Sarcastically, she said, “Oh, Tom, by the way, your father is an embezzler. And probably a psycho murderer.”

  “You had the memory about Tom,” Liam pointed out. “You said that Tom knew. Maybe he’s got evidence, something that points clearly to Peter.”

  “Even if he does,” she said, “Tom won’t betray his father. They’re pretty close.”

  “And Peter pays all his bills,” Liam said.

  “God, you’re cynical.”

  “It’s the truth, isn’t it?”

  “I suppose it is. Tom doesn’t have a real job, but he gets paid by RMS. Through Peter. I guess Tom is a glorified gofer.” She frowned. “I’m not like that, am I?”

  How could she even ask? “You’re the one who gives the orders. Not the one who takes them.”

  “Right,” she said, nodding toward the chopper. “Let’s fly.”

  Last night, he’d gone over the maps Molly had gathered for him. He’d located her campsite, then drawn a circle around it, encompassing the areas where there had been forest fires. The resulting quadrant was fairly good sized.

  If he’d had a third point of reference, he might have triangulated the map to a more specific area. As it was, they’d be searching more square miles than he cared to calculate.

  When they were airborne, he handed the maps over to her. “I divided up the map like the spok
es of a wheel. We’ll start in this area.”

  “And what am I supposed to do?”

  “See if anything looks familiar. A road. Or a landmark. If not, cross off the area.”

  He didn’t have a lot of confidence in this method. The view from the air was different than on the ground. But they might as well take this tour. Maybe they’d get lucky and some sight would jar her memory.

  They neared one of the burned areas, and he dropped down to give her a closer look.

  “My God,” she whispered. “It’s terrible.”

  The earth below was devastated, blackened and barren. A few charred trees stood in mute testament.

  The pattern of destruction showed the efforts of fire-fighters. One hillside was wiped out. Another seemed untouched.

  “Does anything look familiar?” he asked.

  “I can’t tell. When I was here, there was a forest. And flames. Now it’s all dead.”

  They had cycled through about a quarter of the area when Liam decided they should try again with their phone calls. He landed the chopper on a hillside and took out the cell phone.

  “I got a signal,” he said. “I’ll call CCC.”

  And he hoped that Molly would answer. She’d be sympathetic.

  No such luck. It was Briggs. He wasted no time on subtlety. “Get your butt back here, Liam. And do it now.”

  “That’s not going to happen. Not while Kate’s in danger.”

  “You’ve completely screwed up Clauson’s investigation. Instead of solving a missing-person case, the police and about ten thousand reporters are occupied with searching for you and Kate.”

  “They can call off the search. We’re fine,” Liam said. “How’s Mickey doing?”

  “He’s been upgraded to serious condition, but he hasn’t regained consciousness.”

  “Listen, Briggs. Kate and I have new evidence. Financial statements indicate someone was embezzling from RMS. Wayne Silverman was a legal auditor. He might have discovered the crime.”

  “Great,” he said gruffly. “Now get back here. Let me know where you’ll be and I’ll have bodyguards waiting.”