OUTLAW LAWMAN

by Delores Fossen

  But it didn’t.

  Sergeant Tinsley had added to the growing heap of bad by telling Harlan that there didn’t appear to be any prints or traces in either the truck or on the note the SOB had left with Caitlyn’s name scrawled on the folded sheet of paper. A note with just a handful of words.

  This isn’t over. You’re a dead woman.

  Harlan wanted to disagree with that threat, but he couldn’t. As long as the shooter and his accomplice were out there, this was far from over for Caitlyn. And as for the dead part—well, that’s what he had to stop from happening.

  “What about any info on Jay Farris?” Harlan asked his brother.

  “Still trying. He was transferred to a private facility about a month ago—” And the rest was static gibberish, but Harlan thought Slade said something about the facility not giving them access to records without a court order. “You’ve got to call the Ranger back, Harlan.”

  Now, that part came through loud and clear.

  Figures.

  It was the one thing in this conversation that he didn’t want relayed, because the Ranger in question was none other than Griffin Morris, who’d been assigned to investigate Jonah Webb’s murder. If Harlan had thought for one second that Morris had any info about this incident, he’d be on the phone to him, but no. Morris wanted to question Harlan as a possible suspect—accessory to Webb’s murder.

  Harlan didn’t have time for that.

  The door to the examining room opened finally, and Harlan told Slade that he would call him back. Right now he needed to make sure Caitlyn was all right, and judging from the glimpse that Harlan got of her face from over the doctor’s shoulder, she wasn’t. She was shades too pale and looked ready to collapse.

  Dr. Cheryl Landry stopped in the doorway and met Harlan’s gaze. “She’ll be okay. Your turn now. Want to go into the examining room next door so I can give you a checkup?”

  “It can wait.” Yet something else he didn’t have time for—and besides, he’d already done the important part. He’d had the lab draw a blood sample to see if they could identify what had been used to drug him.

  The doctor frowned, but she didn’t look surprised. Probably because she’d been stitching up Harlan and his brothers for the better part of a decade. She knew cooperation wasn’t their strong suit.

  “At least get some rest,” the doctor grumbled. “And that goes for both of you. I’ll call as soon as I have the lab results from the tox screens.” She walked away, still mumbling and scribbling something on a chart.

  Caitlyn didn’t get up from the examining table. Practically limp, she sat there wearing green scrubs that were identical to Harlan’s. One of the first things on his to-do list was to get them a change of clothes, since theirs had been bagged for processing. He doubted there’d be any usable trace evidence on them, but their luck might change.

  He sure as heck hoped so anyway.

  Harlan walked closer, easing the door shut behind him so he could ask her a question that he wasn’t sure how to ask. He played with the words in his head, but Caitlyn beat him to it.

  “I wasn’t sexually assaulted,” she volunteered. “No signs of recent sex, consensual or otherwise.”

  Harlan was relieved but not surprised. Well, not surprised except for the recent-sex part. With Caitlyn’s looks, he figured she must have a current lover, but maybe Farris had destroyed that part of her life, too.

  Thankfully, he’d seen no indications on her body of a violent attack, and he’d gotten an up-close-and-personal look at it, since she’d been wearing only panties and a bra in bed. Besides, if they’d had sex he would have remembered.

  Even drugs wouldn’t have blocked that out.

  Hell, bad blood and sixteen years hadn’t been able to make him forget having sex with her.

  “I’m guessing there are no breaks in the investigation,” she mumbled, pushing her hair away from her face.

  Harlan shook his head and caught her arm when she practically stumbled off the table. “There’s some red tape involved in getting more info about Farris at the private facility where he was transferred. Did you know he’d been moved?”

  “No.” She gave a weary sigh and looked up at him with those equally weary blue eyes. “I went in the wrong direction on this. All those threats seemed to point to you.”

  And he wasn’t too happy that she’d jumped to believe the worst about him. But then he mentally shrugged. She’d probably thought the worst because in their last conversation they’d been at each other’s throats.

  He’d blasted her six ways to Sunday over that article she’d written about him.

  “We can go back to my place and wait,” he insisted. “You need to get some rest and something to eat. And we can make a few calls to try to speed up all the wheels that are turning right now.”

  He’d also have to put some time in at the office, but the adrenaline crash was getting to him, too.

  “Is my car still at your house?” she asked.

  “Yeah.” It was one of the things he’d managed to hear Slade confirm. Her car was there, and there’d been no damage to the place. “But you’re not driving anywhere. It’s not safe, Caitlyn.”

  He braced himself for a big argument. Caitlyn was even more pigheaded than he was, but it had to be a sign of exhaustion when she only shrugged. “I just want to catch this bastard.”

  Harlan was right there with her. Literally. She took a step but then stumbled again. And this time she fell into his arms. Except it was more than a fall. She was so weak, she didn’t hit him with a thud. She melted against him.

  Not good.

  Because their arms went around each other. Their bodies met. And she looked up at him. At the same moment he looked down at her.

  Everything seemed to freeze.

  In fact, lots of weird things happened. The memories came. Not those of the attack—something that should have been occupying his thoughts—but other memories. Those that involved kisses.

  And more than kisses.

  The corner of her mouth lifted, and that half smile seemed as wobbly as the rest of her. She gave his arm a pat, grazing his chest in the process. The rest of her did a little grazing, too. But she didn’t move away.

  Neither did Harlan.

  Oh, man. He didn’t need this now. Not ever. The memories were bad enough, but now his asinine body was starting to act as if it was about to get lucky.

  It wasn’t.

  And Harlan repeated that to himself.

  “Even hate can’t cool that down,” Caitlyn mumbled. With that shocker of a remark, she brushed her mouth over his, opened the door and headed out.

  Harlan was right behind her, but it took him a moment to get his tongue untangled over that blasted half kiss. Man, something that wussy shouldn’t have packed such a wallop.

  “I don’t hate you,” he clarified, choosing to deal with the easier part of that shocker. He didn’t intend to touch the other with a ten-foot pole. “I hated what you did. I don’t like it when people screw around with my badge and career.”

  “That article was my career,” she countered. “If I hadn’t written it, someone else would have.”

  That was probably true, but this wasn’t a reasoning kind of thing here. Her article had painted him and the Marshals Service in a bad light, and he’d caught a boatload of flak over it. Flak he’d aimed right back at her when he’d called her.

  “I’m not a jerk,” she added, “but sometimes I have to make decisions I don’t want to make.” Caitlyn stopped and looked out when they reached the door.

  Just as Harlan did. He didn’t see anyone ready to gun them down, but his brother Declan was waiting, leaning against his truck, which was parked next to one of the standard-issue cars that Harlan had used to drive them from headquarters to the hospital.

&nbs
p; “Declan,” Caitlyn said, and she hurried to him and pulled him into her arms for a hug.

  Harlan wasn’t jealous of his little brother, but it was a little unnerving to see Caitlyn nestled there as if it were the most natural place on earth for her to be.

  Declan smiled and lifted a strand of her hair. “Last time I saw you, it was pink, and you had a nose ring.”

  She returned the smile. “Last time I saw you, you weren’t taller than me.”

  Declan put his mouth to her ear, whispered something. When he was done, Caitlyn did the same and then they finally pulled away from each other.

  “Best not to stand out here in the open like this,” Harlan grumbled.

  He frowned, first because they were out in the open with a gunman loose and then because he was—hell’s bells—jealous.

  Yeah, he was.

  He didn’t want to be, but wanting the feelings to go away didn’t make it happen. He forced himself to remember that blasted article she’d written. And the fact that Caitlyn had thought he was a would-be killer.

  That gave him the attitude adjustment he needed.

  Harlan took her by the arm and pulled her toward the car. “Slade told me there was a problem getting info on Farris,” he said to Declan.

  “There was. The facility wouldn’t confirm or deny they had a patient by that name. The court order was taking too long, so Dallas threatened to close them down for harboring a fugitive.”

  “Good.” Harlan wished he’d been the one to do the threatening even if a threat like that was little more than a bluff. For Pete’s sake, this was an attempted-murder investigation, and in his book that should trump privacy issues of someone who shouldn’t have been granted privacy in the first place.

  “Farris is out, isn’t he?” Caitlyn asked.

  Harlan looked at his brother and wondered how she’d come to that conclusion. He didn’t see anything in Declan’s expression to indicate that particular piece of bad news.

  But then Declan nodded. “He only spent a few days at the private facility before he was released to his personal shrink.”

  Caitlyn didn’t make a sound, but she dropped onto the seat. “How did he get out?”

  “Not sure yet. The court order should tell us that, but in the meantime, we have his name and his picture that we got from old articles on the internet.”

  Old articles probably connected to the time he’d attacked Caitlyn. Harlan was looking forward to putting this guy right back where he belonged. It took a special piece of slime to try to kill a woman.

  “Every law enforcement agency in the state will be looking for Farris,” Declan added.

  Yeah, but according to Caitlyn, Farris was rich. That meant he had resources and could already be out of the country or at least hidden away. Well, if he didn’t still want to kill them, that was. If he did, then Farris wouldn’t go far. He’d continue to stalk Caitlyn.

  “It might not be Farris,” Declan reminded them. “That’s why we need to take a harder look at all of this.”

  Harlan couldn’t agree more. “I’ll be by the office later, and I can expand the search.”

  “Not until tomorrow,” his brother corrected. “Saul’s orders. He put you on quarters for twenty-four hours and doesn’t want to see you before then. Made it official and everything with some paperwork.”

  Great. Just great. Saul Warner, his boss, was forcing him to get some rest. Rest that Harlan needed badly. But he’d much rather be working the case, and the best place to do that was at the office.

  Harlan hit the accelerator much harder than he’d planned and ended up peeling out of the parking lot.

  “Is the anger for me, Farris or the fact you can’t go to work today?” she asked.

  Harlan didn’t even try to lie. “All three.”

  She made a sound to indicate she wasn’t surprised. “Don’t worry.” Caitlyn reached over and took the phone that was sticking out of his front pocket. “I’ll make arrangements to stay elsewhere.”

  He snatched the phone back from her and headed for the ranch. “Elsewhere?”

  “Yes. As in with a friend or something.”

  “Sheez. Are you trying to get yourself and your friend killed? That last threat wasn’t a joke, Caitlyn. This whack job isn’t backing down.”

  The color drained from her face again, and she swallowed hard. Okay. So he hadn’t meant to yell at her, but he also had to make it clear that the danger wasn’t over just because they were no longer cuffed together and half-naked in a motel room.

  “We have ranch hands who can set up security,” he went on. “They can keep an eye out for this guy.” And he could do a better job of securing his own house. He didn’t have a burglar alarm, but he could lock all the windows and doors and keep watch.

  “If I stay with you, I’ll put you in danger, too,” she said, her voice catching.

  “I’m already in danger. The threats were meant to send you to me. The guy was waiting in my house with a Taser.” Not exactly a pleasant thought that someone had gotten the jump on him and that it could have cost them both their lives.

  “Besides,” Harlan added, “I’m a marshal, and until we work out what’s going on, you’re not leaving my sight.”

  Her left eyebrow swung up. “Really?” she said with a massive amount of skepticism. “You want to protect me?”

  There it was again. That irritating nails-on-a-chalkboard effect, since she was questioning his intentions as a lawman.

  “I will protect you,” he insisted. Wanting to do it was an entirely different matter. “And so will my brothers.”

  Declan included. Not a surprise, but that encounter in the parking lot still was.

  “What’d you whisper to Declan?” And why he was wasting time on this, he didn’t know. Oh, wait. Yeah, he did. Caitlyn was making him crazy, and not in a good way.

  “Old joke.” A smile bent her mouth just a little. But she didn’t share either the reason for that smile or the joke itself.

  Cursing again, he was about to shove his phone back into his pocket when it buzzed, and it wasn’t one of his brothers’ names on the screen. However, it was someone he recognized.

  “Ranger Griffin Morris,” Harlan snarled, and he let the call go to voice mail, where the Ranger would no doubt leave a message, adding to the others he’d already left.

  “Morris,” Caitlyn repeated. “The guy investigating Webb’s murder. He’s interviewed you?”

  “Several times.” And then it occurred to Harlan that the Ranger had almost certainly interviewed Caitlyn, too.

  “Yes, I’ve talked to him,” she confirmed. “He thinks one of us helped Sarah Webb kill her husband.”

  Harlan waited for more, but she didn’t add anything. “What’d you tell him?” he came out and asked.

  “The truth.” She didn’t hesitate either. “That I hated Webb just like the rest of you did, but I didn’t help put a knife in him.”

  “Morris believed you and your alibi?”

  Now there was some hesitation. “I think so. Again, I told him the truth—that I was with you. Why?”

  “Because he sure as hell doesn’t seem to believe me. I guess he figures I was big enough to help Sarah haul a dead body down a flight of stairs.”

  “You were. Are,” she corrected. Caitlyn paused, then huffed. “And I guess because of my history, I’m not exactly reliable in the eyes of the law.”

  Probably not. Even though her juvie records were supposed to have been sealed, the Rangers had likely discovered that Caitlyn had spent some time in reform school, and she’d been in more than a fight or two both before and during her stay at Rocky Creek Children’s Facility, where Webb had been murdered.

  “My bad-girl past is coming back to haunt us,” she mumbled. “I’m sorry about that.”


  Despite the mumble, he heard the sincerity, and he didn’t want her apologizing for her past. Especially when part of that past was a facade.

  “You weren’t a bad girl,” he reminded her. “You just wanted everyone to think you were.” Harlan tossed her a look, daring her to argue with that fact.

  After all, she’d been a virgin when they’d had sex.

  “You’ll always be my first,” Caitlyn said under her breath.

  Normally that wouldn’t have caused a chill to snake down his spine, but it did now because it was the exact wording in one of the threats. He’d given it plenty of thought, but he wasn’t any closer to figuring out who had written those threats. However, Caitlyn was right about one thing—whoever it was either knew them or knew someone who’d been spying on them that night at Rocky Creek.

  That was just one of the puzzling things about their situation.

  “Why me, Caitlyn? Why give yourself to me?” Harlan hadn’t actually meant to say that aloud, but it just popped out of his mouth. It figured. He’d been saying and doing a lot of dumb things since Caitlyn had broken into his house the night before.

  She lifted her shoulder as if the answer were obvious. “I really liked you and knew you wouldn’t just use me.” She glanced at him. “And for the record, I know it wasn’t your first time, but the you’ll always be my first was a nice touch. Made it feel special.”

  She made nice touch seemed like a ploy or lip service. It hadn’t been. He’d blurted it out much as he’d just done his question. And even though it grated on him to have her believe he’d used that as some line, this time Harlan kept his mouth shut.

  Sometimes the memories should just stay buried. Especially since they had so many other things to work out.

  He took the turn toward Blue Creek Ranch, and he tried to remember all the things he had to do. Calls he had to make. Security arrangements. Updates on all the moving wheels of this investigation. The list was growing by leaps and bounds, but he needed to add something important.

  Find Sherry Summers.

  The missing former Rocky Creek resident might have answers about what was happening to them now. Of course, Sherry might not be alive. The killer might have already gotten to her.