Every time he tried to fix what was broken or to help people, things only got worse.
He should leave Harper while things were good. He didn’t have to stay with her. He wasn’t on duty now, but he could hardly stand back and watch from the sidelines. She’d appeared surprised that he’d stayed at the hospital with her. He’d done his duty as a Good Samaritan. Heard her call for help and brought her down the mountain and all the way to the hospital. He’d even made sure Sheriff Taggart was informed and talked to Harper. Heath could walk right out of this room and Harper Reynolds would be the sheriff’s problem.
Unless Heath was called in to assist as a deputy.
He hoped Taggart wouldn’t need help with Harper now. Heath had other matters that needed his attention. The Emerald M Guest Ranch campers trusted their guide to provide a unique wilderness experience and get them home safely. Sure, Leroy and Pete could manage things, but it was best if Heath returned as soon as possible. He was usually only needed by the sheriff for special events or local emergencies or natural disasters, like the supervolcano at Yellowstone erupting. Yeah. Usually only special events.
As he listened to her story—the details she hadn’t shared earlier—he wasn’t sure why he was staying. Except that wasn’t true at all. He knew exactly why he was here.
He knew this woman. Or had known her when she was a girl.
And the girl turned woman kept him riveted to her story. He’d always thought she had the most beautiful eyes. He didn’t like to see them filled with the horror of what she’d seen. To her credit, she did a good job holding back the tears that tried to break through her words.
Harper pressed her hand against her midsection. “He peered through his scope and aimed his rifle. I saw her drop before I heard the sound of gunfire.”
Her hands shifted from her stomach to cover her eyes.
Heath willed himself to stay put. He wanted to comfort her, but he didn’t know her well enough. Not anymore. So what if he’d held her in his arms when she’d passed out? That didn’t mean he could do it again or that his act of compassion would bring her comfort.
“Ms. Reynolds, can you be sure that he shot the woman? Or that she fell due to a gunshot wound? Or that she was even dead?”
She dropped her hands, her eyes now rimmed with red. “What do you mean? You don’t believe me?”
“My deputies will find a body if one exists, or find an injured woman. Maybe someone with a gunshot wound. But you were taking these pictures from a distance. I think you believe you saw a murder. But at that distance, even with a camera, you could be mistaken.”
“You don’t understand. I had a 600mm telephoto lens with a teleconverter. That means I can get a closeup shot from a distance. Even without my camera, Sheriff, I saw the woman running. I know what I saw. Then I zoomed in to get a closer look.”
He nodded and jotted more notes. “The pictures you took will help.”
“Make sure they look for the memory card in addition to the camera,” she said.
“Heath,” Sheriff Taggart said, “please stick with her while I make a phone call. I’ll be right back.”
Heath should have already walked out. Not because he was a coldhearted jerk, but because she needed someone else. Someone who wasn’t him.
Except he couldn’t leave because his boots were cemented to the floor. She’d sucked him right into her world, telling a story that held him captive and made him feel the terror with her as if he had been there too. He sensed that behind Harper’s pretty face was someone who’d been on a tumultuous journey since leaving the area. There was an inner strength to her. Beyond that, she was physically strong and had the toned muscles of someone who’d hiked many miles.
She definitely had more than one story to tell.
And he realized they were still kindred spirits. Definitely not what he had expected to find tonight when he took Boots up the mountain trail. Still, Heath didn’t have it in him to be there with her on a more personal level, and somehow he needed to cut the connection before it was too late.
The way she looked up at him now, Harper already had the wrong idea about him. She stared at him as if she would accept his help. That gave him the nudge he needed to step away. Literally. He pressed his back against the farthest wall in the small space. Folded his arms across his chest. At the very least, he would keep his distance, emotionally. Heath had gone into bad situations thinking he could make things right but had failed people he cared about. He wouldn’t add her to that list. As soon as he could, he’d extricate himself.
Sheriff Taggart stepped back into the room, apparently finished with his phone call. “All right, Ms. Reynolds. Heath explained that you’re staying at Granite Ridge Campground. Please stay in the area so I can contact you with more questions.”
If Harper was the only witness to the crime, then at some point her testimony could be needed too, especially if they couldn’t retrieve her camera.
“I haven’t finished my story yet. I haven’t told you everything,” Harper said.
“Well, what is it?”
Her big eyes went from the sheriff to Heath.
“The killer saw me witness his crime. He stared right at me through his scope while I took his picture.”
The meaning behind her words knocked into him. Heath thought his heart had stopped.
The killer could try to find and target Harper next.
Taggart scribbled more notes on his pad. His cell phone chimed, and he excused himself again.
Heath held up a finger, letting her know that he was leaving too but would return. He followed the sheriff down the hall and waited for the man to finish his phone conversation. When Taggart ended the call, Heath cornered him.
“Don’t you think she’s in danger?” Heath asked. “She witnessed a crime. He could target her.”
“The shooter was across the river, three or four hundred yards away, at least, and in the trees, part of the woods. This is tourist season. She’s a tourist. Even if he got a good look at her face, chances are that he doesn’t know who she is or where to find her. If we learn differently, then we’ll act accordingly.” Taggart leaned closer. “I’ve had two deputies resign over the last six months.”
“You’re saying you don’t have the manpower to keep your only witness safe. Isn’t a situation like this the reason you talked me into being a reserve deputy?” But the man hadn’t called on Heath for much more than providing security at the county fair, though he’d had to go through the same rigorous training as full-time deputy sheriffs.
“I don’t know that she’s in danger, McKade. We’ll take it as it comes. I’m considering putting you on investigating the mailbox bombs. Find those kids and stop them before somebody else gets hurt. Before someone gets seriously injured.”
Heath scraped a hand through his hair. What was happening to his town? Wyoming had a low population and supposedly a low crime rate. “Why do you think it’s kids?”
“The first bomb—Reece Keaton saw three teenagers running away from her mailbox, that’s why. She couldn’t give me a solid description of the boys. They took off into the woods around dusk. Sure, they’re kids, but these days anyone can learn how to make a bomb from the internet.”
Heath nodded. As good a reason as any to start searching for the boys. “As for Harper, let’s hope she’s not in danger, then.”
Taggart cocked a thick brow. “But you’ll watch out for her if needed.”
“Uh . . . no . . . I didn’t mean me.” Considering his past, he wasn’t the guy for that particular job.
“We’ll see. It depends on the state’s response if I decide to call for outside resources. In the meantime, you can deliver her back to her campsite.”
CHAPTER SIX
TUESDAY, 12:29 A.M.
GRANITE RIDGE CAMPGROUND
BRIDGER-TETON NATIONAL FOREST
Silence enveloped the cab of Harper’s Dodge Ram as Heath drove it back to Granite Ridge Campground. Deputy Herring, a young guy with freckles
and a baby face, followed in a county SUV to give Heath a ride back from the campground.
Harper glanced at the dashboard digital clock.
Nearly midnight thirty.
The Ram followed the ring of light on the road. Otherwise darkness pressed in on all sides. Harper barely registered the drive or even Heath’s presence next to her. Images of the day’s horrific events clicked across her brain like snapshots, and she couldn’t shutter them out of her mind.
How many crimes would she witness in this life before it was over?
Harper leaned her head against the headrest. Dr. Jacob said the painkillers would make her drowsy, yet even considering the pills combined with exhaustion, Harper couldn’t fall asleep or shut off her brain.
All she wanted to do right now was curl into a ball on a bed piled high with quilted blankets.
The crunch of gravel jarred her, and she opened her eyes. Heath steered around the small circular parking drive allotted to each camping spot. Lights were on in the camper. Emily had poured her heart and soul into renovating the vintage Airstream.
“Nice,” Heath said.
She had no energy for words and opened the door. By the time Harper had climbed out, Emily was standing in the camper doorway, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Emily had to have been holding herself back from flying out of the camper and demanding answers. Harper suspected the county vehicle behind the Ram was keeping her glued to the Airstream at the moment.
A flashlight beamed through the woodsy campground. Someone probably heading to the facilities. Heath got out and stood between the Ram and the county vehicle. Before heading to the Airstream, Harper paused and glanced his way.
She wasn’t sure what to do or say next. This all felt so awkward. “Thanks for everything. It was good to see you again.” Running into him tonight after so many years and the manner in which their paths had collided surprised her. Still, their friendship had been all drama at the end. So it made some kind of weird sense that meeting him again would start with drama too. She couldn’t help but wonder if she’d see him again. Or if she even wanted to.
“You’re welcome, and it was good to see you too.” Heath tossed her the keys. “Be sure to lock up and watch out for grizzlies.”
Was that almost a grin? She’d prefer to see the full-on smile, but she couldn’t offer a big smile herself.
Deputy Herring waited in the vehicle. Harper gave a small wave, then turned her back on the two and walked toward Emily. A figure holding a flashlight downward emerged from the shadows and into the light. Mr. Stein, the guy who ran the campground.
“Oh, hey there.” What was he doing here? “I’m sorry if we’re disturbing the campers.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “I came over to see if everything is all right.”
Emily smiled. “Mr. Stein was the one who delivered the news that you were at the hospital and someone would bring you home.”
“You can call me Ken.” He shined the light up and down Harper as though to get a better look, then nodded. “I see you’re all in one piece, with some tape to hold you together. I’ll leave you ladies to your business. If you need some more help”—he looked at Emily—“let me know.”
He disappeared into the darkness, his flashlight guiding his path.
Harper stepped into the camper and released a long exhale. “I never thought I’d be so glad to be back.”
Hands trembling, Harper closed and locked the door, then peered through the mini blinds and watched the county vehicle roll slowly through the campground to the exit. “What was the campground guy talking about?”
“Oh, I had some trouble opening the door, that’s all. These old things. Maybe I should replace the door entirely. He showed me a trick to get it open. But who cares about that?” Emily took two short steps in the small space and hugged Harper. “I was so worried when you didn’t come back!”
Emily released Harper and lifted her hand as though she would touch Harper’s bandages but dropped her hand to her side instead. “Oh, Harper. What happened?”
“It’s only a few stitches, that’s all.”
“A few stitches? I feel so bad that I didn’t go with you. I should have gone.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You had a deadline. Did you make it?”
“Barely.”
“I doubt any of what happened tonight would have turned out differently.” In fact, Emily could have been hurt—or worse, the killer could have seen her too.
Harper went to the pullout sofa bed.
“No. You’re sleeping on the real bed tonight. It’s your turn anyway,” Emily said.
With no energy to argue, Harper dragged herself to the small bedroom and dropped onto the bed.
“Aren’t you going to tell me anything?” Emily asked.
“I’m drugged and exhausted, but I’ll try. I was running and fell and hit my head. I yelled for help and then Heath McKade came to my aid, but a grizzly bear almost attacked him. No one was hurt. I sprayed the bear and we got away. Heath took me to get the stitches.”
“Wait. The Heath McKade? The guy you were so close to growing up? That you secretly had a crush on?”
“What? I didn’t have a crush on him. He was my best friend.”
Emily gave an exaggerated pout.
“Em . . . you were older. Dating. You were too cool for me anyway. Don’t take that the wrong way. I looked up to you and wanted to be like you.”
“I’m sorry if I made you feel that I was too cool to be your best friend,” Emily said. “I didn’t mean to.”
“It’s okay.”
“But seriously, Heath?” Emily’s eyes widened. “I can’t believe he was the guy.”
“Yep. He rode up on a horse like a knight in shining armor, only wearing a Stetson.” She might have actually told him that too. She hoped he hadn’t thought she was flirting.
“Wow. Well, what did he say? He remembers you, doesn’t he?”
“Sure. It took him a minute. It’s not like we instantly recognized each other after more than twenty years.” Harper shifted on the bed and pulled the covers over her, the memories of the evening gone wrong gripping her again. “Emily, there’s a lot more I need to tell you.”
At Harper’s serious tone, Emily eased onto the edge of the bed. “What is it? You’re scaring me.”
There was no easy way to tell her. “I witnessed a murder.”
A few seconds ticked by as Emily absorbed her words. “My first thought was to say you’re joking, considering I write murder mysteries. But I can see you’re not. What happened?”
Harper shared the morbid story with her crime-writing sister. She wished this would be the last time she had to relive the events, at least for a few days, but she knew the sheriff’s office investigator would have more questions. With exhaustion and grief rippling through her, Harper pressed her face into her hands.
“Oh, sis, I’m so, so sorry. After everything you’ve been through already, I don’t understand why this had to happen.”
Harper closed her eyes and listened to her sister’s soft sniffles—her tears on Harper’s behalf.
“You don’t deserve this. You don’t deserve any of what’s happened to you.”
The room grew so quiet that Harper thought Emily had left her to sleep, but she heard another sniffle. Harper opened her eyes to study Emily. She hated seeing her sister upset.
“I know we were supposed to head home tomorrow,” Harper said, “but the sheriff asked me to stay a few more days in case he has questions. As soon as possible, I want to go home.” Maybe after all these months, she would see the therapist again. She’d been close to feeling like she’d had a breakthrough, but then a murder happened right before her eyes.
“Okay, but let’s not forget to look at the old house before we leave. I’ve been thinking about that for months.”
Oh, great. “I don’t want to see it now. I can’t. Not after what happened today.”
That house was already sullied by a murder
—the murder Harper had witnessed as a child. Her father’s. Then her mother whisked them away to Missouri to start over, even changing their surname.
Emily scrutinized her. The move had probably been hardest on her—she’d left friends behind. A boyfriend. She’d been popular in school. Harper had left Heath behind. And yeah, maybe Emily was right. Maybe she’d had a little bit of a crush—but they’d only been twelve going on twenty-one.
“Sure, I understand.” Emily touched Harper’s arm and rubbed, attempting to comfort her. Well, it wasn’t going to work. She didn’t want to be comforted. “Get some sleep.”
Her sister slipped out of the small room and shut the door.
Now Harper hoped she could actually sleep.
Instead, the murdered woman’s eyes haunted her. The woman’s fear. The realization that she was about to die at the hands of a killer, no matter her efforts to escape. Harper felt the woman’s terror to her core. She hadn’t turned away from the horror, from the blood—everything she’d wanted to escape over the last year—no. She’d taken the right images.
The victim.
The murderer and the scene as a whole.
Then she’d kept watching through the zoomed lens to take in as much as she could. She’d committed to memory an image of the victim, with her dark hair pulled into a ponytail and her bright pink T-shirt and khaki cargo pants. The hunter dressed for tracking backcountry big game.
Oddly, the homicide survivor’s guilt that she’d worked hard to free herself from had raged back to life. Once again, she had survived while someone else died. She’d been on the sidelines and there’d been nothing she could do but watch—but that was far more than she’d done in the past when she’d chosen to run and hide.
This time she hadn’t looked away. She’d seen the man who committed the crime. Taken a picture of him. Though with a rifle covering half his face and the shadow from his cap hiding the other half, the picture would do no good. In the end, she ran away. With his high-power scope and long-distance rifle, he could have shot her, so she had no choice.
Always Look Twice Page 4
