Maverick

by C. J. Snyder

  His dirt bike rode tethered in the bed of the pickup. Maggie felt dazed, out of control. She hated both sensations. She pulled a baseball cap down low over her sunglasses and insisted on shopping with Derek. to her meager list, including dried soups, beans, and powdered milk. different shades of hair dye and three pairs of sunglasses. Derek wouldn’t let her pay.

  Back in the truck, he glanced at her. “What color is your hair really?”

  She smiled softly. “Dark brown.”

  “As long as he said?”

  She touched her thigh and Derek let out a low whistle. “Wish I could have seen that.”

  His words brought Jack firmly to mind. She frowned, but Jack wouldn’t leave. It was his fault she had to leave now—his fault Melissa was in danger all over again. And that might not have been him on the television this morning, but short and blond was his partner, wasn’t he? Why hadn’t he just arrested her? At least then she’d have had a chance of no publicity.

  Derek watched her fume for an hour. He’d headed west on I-70 to Rifle, then north on Colorado State Highway 13. They had another forty minutes of road. Her silence didn’t bother him—he doubted he’d be real chatty if the situations were reversed. But he did have one question, and he didn’t know how to ask it without prying. He wasn’t really sure she’d even answer it. Or if he wanted to hear the answer. So he waited.

  The beautiful spring day flew by outside the window of the dusty pickup. Maggie’s mind reeled with questions. How would she know when things had ‘cooled off’? Would they ever? Would Jack give up on her and go back to Connecticut? Had he known—last night—that the show would air this morning?

  The show felt like a betrayal. That irritated her, but irritation didn’t stop the feeling. And the feeling hurt—a little ache that grew whenever she thought about it. The ache scared her more than her face splashed all over national television.

  Even with the publicity, she could be wallpaper. She was very good at wallpaper. But the ache revealed just how far she’d let Special Lieutenant Jack Myles inside her. Feelings like that—for a man—especially for that man— just weren’t allowed. Feelings like that could get Melissa killed.

  Derek turned onto a dirt road that resembled a washboard. Maggie grabbed the dash and held on, smiling in response to Derek’s apologetic glance for his ancient shocks. When she wasn’t bouncing wildly on the seat, she watched the changing scenery with a keen eye. ‘Getting away from it all’ was about to take on a whole new meaning.

  Forty minutes later Derek pulled to a halt. The dusty road continued ahead of He added considerably She bought four very them—nearly straight up. Her eyes narrowed and she settled her cap more firmly on her head. Melissa’s safety. Nothing else mattered.

  Derek wheeled the bike out of the truck and let Megan load the makeshift saddlebags. He scratched out a map, frowning when he finished. He hoped Megan was better at reading maps than he was at drawing them.

  The helmet was too large. Maggie left her baseball cap on and snugged the helmet strap under her chin as best she could. She studied the map, nodded and stuffed it into her jeans pocket.

  “I’ll come up next Monday,” he told her. “Hopefully all the interest will have died down by then.”

  Maggie nodded, but she obviously didn’t believe the notoriety would subside that fast. “At any rate, I’ll bring up some more supplies. You going to be okay?” She nodded, but she wasn’t smiling and her behavior worried him. “Maybe I should wait.” “For what? There’s no way to tell you when I get there. That’s the whole point.” Now she smiled at his worry. The smile didn’t reach her eyes, but it was better than nothing. She straddled the bike and they watched each other over the handlebars. “I don’t know how to thank you, Derek. And I don’t just mean for the cabin—but for believing in me.”

  He nodded, embarrassed. He never did emotion well. He cleared his throat and she read his mind. “Melissa was involved—long before I was. That night—with the cops—I didn’t know they were cops. It wouldn’t have mattered. Melissa doesn’t know about that night—or how deeply she became involved with—with the other. I intend to keep it that way.” She wouldn’t tell him more, but she owed him that much. Derek nodded, only slightly relieved.

  “Good luck, Megan. Be careful on the road—dirt bikes can be a little squirrely.” “I will. Take care of my sister. See you in a week.” She revved up the tinny sounding engine and flashed him a smile. The smile disappeared when she let out the clutch and stalled the bike. “It’s been a while.” She wished he would get in the truck and start back, but he obviously was determined to stay and see her on her way.

  Staying upright—with the motor running—took four attempts. For safety sake, she circled the truck once before nodding triumphantly at Derek. He patted her shoulder as she tooled past him and took off up the road that climbed the mountain ahead.

  She stayed on the road for a half-mile, then pulled over and shut off the engine. Unfolding Derek’s attempt at a map, she frowned. She could barely read a Rand-McNally Atlas, never mind the lines he’d scribbled. She surveyed her surroundings before extricating a bottle of water. At least he’d described things as he’d written. If she could only remember what he’d said, she might have a chance of finding his little cabin. She squinted up at the sun. From what Derek told her, she should be there within the hour. She replaced her water bottle and climbed back on the bike. When the road ended and became four trails, she was to take a hard left. How difficult could it be?

  ***

  Jack watched Derek pull up to the bar in a battered old truck. He was alone. When Derek didn’t get out, but sat watching him through the spider-web of cracks in the windshield, Jack pushed off from the building. He straightened his shoulders. He’d waited for two hours. Foolish to hope she’d be with him, but the disappointment that she wasn’t burned in his gut.

  The tracking device told him her car was here—or fairly close to here. She wasn’t at her cabin—and from the looks of things she’d managed to take a few belongings with her. Her toothbrush for one. Without her car—or help—she couldn’t have gone far.

  Derek finally got out and shoved the door closed with considerably more force than necessary. “Got a warrant?”

  Jack lifted his hands. “I want a beer.”

  Derek’s snort was mirthless. “I’ll bet. There’s a bar down the street that’ll be happy to serve you.”

  “I want one here.” Derek watched him for a moment longer and surprised him. He shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He unlocked the door and went in, flicking on lights, removing a recording from the box below the television and flipping the channel to ESPN. The only concession he made to Jack’s presence was to keep the volume on the set low. Might be better to have the enemy under his nose, but he didn’t have to like it.

  From behind the bar, he faced Jack with all the civility he’d show a convicted child molester. “Draft or bottle?” “Bottle of Bud.”

  “Seven-fifty.”

  Bottles of domestic beer were two-fifty. A sign behind the bar proclaimed the fact to anyone sober enough to read. Jack didn’t mind the surcharge. Or the waiting game he would have to play. He did mind that Maggie had eluded him again—because of Frank’s ill-conceived plan. He placed a twenty-dollar bill on the bar as Derek loaded the freezer with beer mugs. He weighed his options. How much did the bar owner know? Just a coincidence he and Maggie had disappeared at the same time? Jack didn’t think so.

  “Melissa okay?”

  “Melissa’s fine.” Derek’s hands didn’t stop, but the snarl in his voice caught Jack by surprise. Clint, sure, but Derek? Could he use it to his advantage?

  Deceit wouldn’t get him anywhere. The truth might not either, depending on Derek’s background, but it was the only shot he had. “I didn’t touch her, you know.” Derek’s head dipped just once. He loaded two more glasses into the freezer. “That’s why you’re enjoying a beer in my bar. Being a cop doesn’t get you any further than that without a warrant.”
His smile was icy. “In case you were wondering.”

  Jack reached for his wallet. “I’m not a cop.” He flipped open the wallet to his shield and smiled at the reaction Derek tried to hide. “I want to help her.”

  “Help who?” The question was sharp.

  “Maggie. Megan,” he corrected. “But Melissa’s involved too. I want to help them both.”

  “Drink your beer, Special Agent Myles. Then arrest me or get a warrant.” Derek turned to finish restocking the cooler. “Why would I arrest you?” Jack swirled the contents of his bottle thoughtfully, his voice carefully innocent. “Harboring a known fugitive? You wouldn’t do anything like that, would you, Derek?”

  Now Derek’s smile was bland. Jack’s voice was calm and friendly as he continued. “Of course not. That would be a felony. You’d lose your license.” Jack watched the bar owner carefully, without seeming to. “You couldn’t keep Melissa in make-up from jail.” He couldn’t tell if Derek was reacting or not. The guy was pretty good. “You couldn’t keep Melissa out of jail if you were locked up yourself.”

  Derek wasn’t that good. Or he was that crazy about Maggie’s sister. A thin line of sweat coated his forehead. Either way, Jack had found the right button. He played it skillfully. Derek would never know how big of a bluff it was.

  His gaze carefully on the beer, he continued slowly, his voice purely conversational. “Two years ago Maggie and her sister helped to rob a bank. I was assigned to the case. I had an ‘appointment’ with one of the ringleaders. That’s the night Maggie held a gun on me and my Harrisburg PD partner.” He set his beer down on the bar and waited for Derek to look at him. “Maggie’s been on the run ever since that night—trying to protect Melissa. But she’s in way over her head. I’m trying to help her—before these guys find her. They’re bad, Derek. Real bad. Frank’s stupid stunt this morning—I’m assuming you caught the show?”

  Derek nodded. Jack had his full attention now. “His stupid stunt has undone just about everything I’ve accomplished in two weeks. Maggie’s not safe. Melissa’s not safe. I didn’t come to arrest either of them. I want the guys behind the bank robbery. And they want Maggie and Melissa.”

  Derek didn’t say anything. But the sweat on his forehead began to slide down his cheeks. Jack ordered another beer. And waited.

  ***

  Maggie wasn’t lost. She stopped, hopped off the bike and stretched her legs. Then, certain she’d find something she’d missed the last time, she searched Derek’s map again. But she wasn’t lost.

  Lost would mean defeat. Lost would mean she’d have to go back. Lost meant jail for her. She wouldn’t even think what lost might mean for Melissa.

  Afraid she’d forget Derek’s descriptions, she’d written them on her map during her second stop. She was supposed to find a snow fence next. A snow fence.

  What was a snow fence?

  She’d stopped climbing the mountain thirty minutes ago. Now there were just hills and

  valleys. Hills, valleys and the dirt road that circled and climbed and descended and never seemed to really go anywhere. What the hell was a snow fence?

  Why hadn’t she asked him? Damn her stupid pride.

  Think, Maggie.

  A snow fence. A fence for snow? That made no sense. She stared at the fork in the road, then shoved the map back into her pocket. She’d try one fork for a while, and if it didn’t work, she’d come back and try the other.

  No matter what she did, she would do it wet. She scowled at the grey sky. Clouds had swept in from the west. They lowered menacingly now, like a trash compactor that would eventually flatten her on the ground.

  To hell with the damn snow fence. She could skip that and look for the wind generator. She bit back a nervous laugh. Probably too much to expect that the wind generator would carry an identification sign.

  *** Jack drank his beer in silence. He couldn’t tell what Derek was thinking, only that he was thinking. Hard. Whether or not Derek spilled would come down to trust. Confidences almost always did.

  The trust issue usually worked in his favor. But not with Maggie. The man in front of him was Maggie’s friend. But in love with Melissa. Had he made a mistake in coming here first? It should be relatively easy to find out Clint’s address. If Melissa was still there. Somehow he couldn’t see Maggie dragging her sister off with her. Melissa was very nearly a handicap.

  Jack watched the ESPN announcer recap the hockey game from the night before. A five hour game. He didn’t have that long to find Maggie. And if Frank didn’t find Kevin soon the stakes were going to get much, much higher.

  *** Maggie smiled. If anyone had been around to look, seeing that smile would have been difficult, between the wind and the rain that was now turning the dirt path to a river of mud. But she was definitely smiling, despite the mud, despite the wind.

  She’d figured out the snow fence riddle. After she’d passed the seventh one. It looked like one wall of a naked barn. She’d even figured out why they’d built them, up here in the middle of nowhere. The cattle she could see now in the distance had to be fed, even in the winter. And the snow fence kept the snow from drifting too high on the superhighway of mud she traveled now.

  But Derek mentioned one snow fence, not seven. Now she looked for a wind generator. The stupid thing—whatever it was—should be visible on the right, just before she made a last left hand turn. When she found the wind generator, Derek had promised she’d be real close. His cabin was just over the next hill from there.

  Her leg ached from a tumble she’d taken when she’d come up over a hill and nearly run smack into a cow. The sight of her on her bike hadn’t fazed the cow at all. The animal had watched Maggie’s wipe-out with mild interest and calmly continued chewing. Maggie decided she would relish her next hamburger.

  She wished she could relish it soon. Everything she’d brought required cooking. At least when she got to the cabin she could get dry. Derek promised there was a full supply of firewood for the woodstove and fireplace. There was a pump for water—no indoor plumbing, but she could heat water and take a bath if she wanted. She squinted up at the sheets of rain and sighed. She definitely wanted.

  Getting off and pushing the bike would almost be faster. Ever since her near-crash with the cow, she’d taken the trip very slow. An accident up here could be fatal. The mud helped slow her down too. She was covered in it.

  She cranked the accelerator to get up a hill. A hot bowl of soup and an even hotter bath. And if she ever did this again, she’d swallow her pride and make damn sure she understood every little ant pointed out on the map.

  The fat rock sat just over the crest of the hill, covered in mud, looking exactly like everything else. She didn’t see the rock before she hit it, but she knew the precise moment she did. Life decelerated to super-slow-motion. She fought to hang onto the handlebars, heard a strange popping sound and lost her grip. Then she was airborne, tumbling. There were rocks all over the ground—giant, grey slabs of granite. So much granite there wasn’t even mud. She tried to force her eyes closed before she hit, but they didn’t obey. She felt the whoosh of all the air leaving her lungs, then watched with a curious detachment as little black spots ate away all the grey color before her eyes.

  Somewhere in the dark, the engine on her bike still raced. The tinny whir of the engine was the last bit of information her brain processed.

  Chapter 7

  Jack broke Derek an hour later. While Derek drew him a map, Jack called Chuck. Chuck located a four-wheel drive within two minutes. Jack glanced at Derek. “Where should he meet us?”

  “Rifle. We can use the extra time we’ll have to get some more supplies for her. She didn’t take much—couldn’t take much.” Derek wasn’t thrilled about his role in all this, but he knew with absolute certainty that Megan would forgive him. They were all working toward the same goal—to keep Melissa safe. He still didn’t understand why Maggie would withhold information from Jack, but Jack assured him that was personal. Jack would talk her
around. When he did, they’d be back—together.

  Jack glanced at the map Derek was sketching and hoped the bar owner had given Maggie a better one. “Chuck? One more thing. I need a topo—Highway 13 and east.” He glanced at Derek. “How far north of I-70?”

  Derek shrugged. “Fifty miles, I guess.” “Twenty-five to seventy-five miles. Right. Any problem? Good. Thanks, Chuck. See you in Rifle.” He handed the cell phone to Derek. “Call Clint. Get him to bring Melissa here. That way she’ll be here when you get back from dropping me.”

  Derek didn’t argue. Clint wasn’t real happy with the arrangement, but Melissa talked him into it when she learned Jack had requested the location change. Derek got off the phone and scowled at Jack. He’d heard the entire conversation between Clint and Melissa. “You sure you didn’t touch her?”

  Jack grinned. “Not even a kiss, man. She’s not my type.”

  “And Megan is?”

  “Megan most definitely is.”

  Derek relaxed a little.

  Very few people could resist Jack’s grin. The only one who had, in recent memory, was Maggie.

  Derek handed the cell phone back to Jack. “There probably isn’t coverage up there, you know. How will you know when your buddy has this Kevin creep in custody?” “Satellite phone. I can be reached anywhere.” The suspicion was back in Derek’s eyes. Jack reached for the pad of paper. “Here’s the number. Feel free to check in any time. Melissa, too.” Jack finished his second cup of coffee. “How long will it take them to get here?”

  “Five, ten minutes. He lives just across the highway. Sounded like Melissa was shoving him out the door as we spoke. Sounded like she couldn’t wait to see you.”

  Jack grinned again. “It’s the accent. Y’all just don’t know how to speak proper up here in the No’th.”

  Derek shook his head. Maybe he ought to try out an accent on Melissa. He’d have to think about it. Jack bought the things Maggie didn’t have room for. Eggs, bread, lunchmeat, cheese, fruit and a cooler stocked with dry ice to keep it all fresh. He also stopped at a liquor store. Derek shook his head. “Megan doesn’t drink.”