Always Look Twice

by Elizabeth Goddard

  “Emily!”

  Oh, Lord, please let her be okay. Let her survive this!

  Harper climbed through the opening and positioned herself to drop from the window. Her sweats caught on the latch. No, no, no . . .

  Squeezing her eyes shut, she prayed hard and shoved, ripping the sweats. Though she had planned to hang from the window and let herself drop, the camper bounced again, and Harper fell. She tried to roll when she hit the hard ground, pebbles cutting into her skin, asphalt scraping and gouging her.

  The camper bounced violently as it tumbled over the cliff. Metal clanked and crashed.

  She was hyperventilating.

  She was alive.

  But she wasn’t so sure nothing was broken. Every bone in her body ached. Her head pounded. Had her head wound ripped open? She’d be bruised all over, but nothing mattered except Emily.

  “Emily!”

  Harper crawled until she found her. “Emily,” she whispered.

  Sirens resounded in the distance. Good. Emily’s call to 9-1-1 had been taken seriously.

  Emily lay sprawled on the side of the road. Unmoving.

  “Emily!” Tears spilled down Harper’s cheeks as she reached for her sister. Her hands shook as she looked for signs of life. Breath. A pulse. Something. Then she found a pulse. “Oh, thank God.”

  Harper wasn’t sure what to do. She wanted to cradle her sister’s head while she waited for help, but she was afraid to move her. Instead, she rested her palms on Emily’s face. “It’s going to be okay, Em. You’re going to make it.”

  She grabbed her cell from her pocket and called 9-1-1. After she explained the situation and their approximate location, the dispatcher informed Harper that EMTs and deputies had already been sent out with the first call and she wanted Harper to remain on the line until help arrived.

  But that help was going to take far too long.

  “Please tell them to hurry. I don’t know. Send a helicopter or something. My sister is badly hurt. I . . . I have to go.”

  Her trembling fingers struggled to end the call, then find Heath’s stored number. She was grateful she’d put his number in her new phone. He lived out here somewhere close. Law enforcement might even still be at his ranch, given the explosion.

  “Oh, Heath, please answer.”

  The call went to voice mail. Her voice shaking, she did her best to leave a coherent message, but she couldn’t count on him getting it in time.

  Harper took in her surroundings as she remained with Emily.

  Had the driver gone over with the truck? Or was she right to believe that he had jumped out while slowing down at that last switchback, knowing the slope alone would carry the truck and camper right over? He might have fled the scene.

  Or he could still be out there, watching.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  THURSDAY, 1:39 A.M.

  GRANITE RIDGE VIEWPOINT

  Grief-stricken and furious over the explosion that had taken out one of his cabins, Heath hadn’t been able to sleep. He’d gone out to look at the stars, but the clouds blocked them, allowing only occasional glimpses of moonlight. He’d walked the perimeter where crime scene tape cordoned off a portion of his ranch. The fire chief suspected the explosion had been caused deliberately and was not the result of a leaky propane tank. The state lab out of Cheyenne would process the evidence. If the kids Taggart suspected of bombing mailboxes had suddenly ramped up their game for some insane reason no one could fathom—a cabin on a secluded ranch?—then they would receive the full wrath of the law. Taggart was furious.

  Not nearly as angry as Heath.

  Emerald M Ranch was in the news, but not for any reason Heath wanted.

  As a result of the damage and the continued threat, until they knew more about who was behind the explosion, Heath had sent all his guests away and refunded their money. Leroy was in the ICU at St. John’s in Jackson.

  Heath—to his regret—hadn’t seen Harper’s call until he had gotten back to his room where he’d left his cell.

  Nothing else had mattered except getting to her.

  Now he stood on the road leading to Granite Ridge Campground, searching for Harper. Law enforcement and emergency vehicle lights still flashed. The ambulance caught his attention. Nearby, he spotted Harper wrapped in a blanket, her red hair spilling over.

  His heart might come right out of his chest.

  From where he approached on the far side of the sheriff’s department vehicles, the scene appeared surreal. Harper’s cry for help—for him to answer his phone—played repeatedly in his mind. Torture. Pure torture.

  Someone was on a gurney and EMTs rolled it into the back of the ambulance.

  Oh . . . Please, God . . .

  He’d arrived much too late to help Harper. To save her from whatever had happened here.

  He weaved his way through the ample law enforcement presence.

  Two deputies from neighboring Hoback County stepped in his path and warned him away. He showed them his deputy credentials. He wasn’t on duty and hadn’t dressed the part. Instead, he had showed up in jeans, a T-shirt, and his Stetson. Heath’s gaze found Harper again. Stunned, bruised, and beaten, she stared at the gurney as it rolled away. He could have heaved right there.

  Then, as if sensing someone watching, Harper snapped out of her shock and her eyes searched the gathering of rangers, highway patrol, and deputies. Her eyes found him. For a good, long moment he held her gaze. Unwavering. Unable to see anything else.

  He willed her to understand the depth of his concern, then forced away his own pain. He had to shove the images of the tragedy at the ranch far from his mind. He couldn’t function otherwise. Then he compelled his legs to move again, one step at a time, and started toward her. He picked up speed and momentum.

  The next thing he knew, Harper had flung herself at him, pressed her warm, trembling form against him. He had no choice but to wrap his arms around her. No other desire, really. He held her, comforted her, and wished he was able to end her pain.

  She finally eased from him—he would have held her as long as she needed—and he gently gripped her arms. “Harper.” He struggled to say more as he took her in. Are you okay? He wouldn’t ask the ridiculous question. Finally, he found his voice. “I’m so sorry about everything. I’m sorry I didn’t answer my cell. I didn’t have it with me. I got here as soon as I could.”

  Why had she called him? Maybe because the ranch was close and she was in trouble. But he’d failed to hear her call for help. Still, the way her eyes searched his, he knew her need went much deeper, and he knew why she’d called.

  Deep in his soul, he knew that she had needed someone she could count on, and she had hoped he would be that someone. On that point he had failed, but he was there now.

  She hiccupped and swiped at her nose. Her pretty amber eyes shimmered in the moonlight. Harper had been through entirely too much trauma in her life. More than anyone should have to bear.

  “I . . . I thought you lived close. That you could help us before he . . .”

  He nudged her chin up. “Before he what, Harper? What happened here? Who are we talking about?” Had he been right to think she could be in danger?

  “Emily and I got the camper ready to move into town. We always prep the night before. About an hour ago, I woke up and the camper was moving. Someone was driving the truck and pulling the camper. At first, I thought Emily had decided to get going and hadn’t woken me up. Then I heard her scream and knew she was in the camper too. We couldn’t get the door opened. With that killer still out there, I thought . . . I thought someone was abducting us to hurt us or kill us.”

  Harper turned her face to the cliff’s edge. Heath realized he saw no camper. No Dodge Ram.

  “You mean . . .” His gut clenched as his mind grappled to comprehend. “How did you escape?”

  “We climbed out the window, but he had made it nearly impossible the way he steered. Then he steered the truck and camper to fly over the cliff. He must have j
umped out before the vehicles went over. We barely made it out.” Tears choked her words. “I was helping Emily through the window, but I dropped her. She’s unconscious.”

  Heath fought for the right words but came up empty. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder like a friend or a big brother might, though he felt far differently about her. I’m here now. That wasn’t nearly enough.

  Together they watched the ambulance turn onto the road and speed away, lights flashing, siren wailing.

  “Emily.” She gasped. “I have to get to the hospital. They’re taking her to Jackson. I thought they would let me ride with her.”

  And Heath thought maybe she should be in an ambulance herself. Had she refused treatment because of Emily? “I’ll take you.”

  “Are you sure? I don’t want to be a burden. I know you have your own trouble to deal with. I could get one of the deputies on duty to take me.”

  He arched a brow, letting her know what he thought of her rejection.

  Her shoulders sagged. Relief? “Thank you. I appreciate your helping me again. I hope I haven’t caused you too much trouble.”

  “Harper, you and I go way back. Call me anytime.” What are you doing, Heath?

  He guided her over to his truck.

  Once they were inside the cab and buckled, he drove them to the hospital. Quiet filled the cab, but it wasn’t awkward. No, not that so much, but he would have preferred awkwardness to the gloom of apprehension.

  She stared out the window, her thoughts much too far away, so he reached over and grabbed her hand, then squeezed. “She’s going to make it. She’s going to be all right. They know how to take care of people in Jackson.” Grayback’s small hospital, more like an acute clinic, wouldn’t do for Emily, whose injuries would best be treated at the area trauma hospital, St. John’s Medical Center, in Jackson.

  “She wanted to leave as soon as the sheriff gave me the go ahead, but I convinced her to stay. The truth is we never should have come back here.”

  “Don’t blame yourself. Emily wouldn’t want that. You don’t do either of you any good by taking that kind of burden on. You didn’t do anything wrong.” He should listen to his own words. He continued to blame himself for so much. “Can I ask why you decided to stay?”

  “I wanted to make sure the woman’s murderer is found. I was afraid the sheriff wouldn’t take my story seriously, especially now with the explosion . . . Heath, I’m so sorry. I didn’t even think to ask you about that. I wanted to call you when I heard. I wanted to come to the ranch. But I—”

  “It’s okay, it’s okay. You were almost killed, Harper. That had to be terrifying for you. I’m glad you were able to climb out the window. I’m sure that was no easy task.”

  “Especially with the way he was driving.”

  “You said ‘he.’ Did you actually see him?”

  “No. I didn’t have time to think about anything but getting out. I can’t help but think it’s the same man who saw me with his rifle scope. He knows I witnessed his crime.”

  Heath nodded. His thinking exactly. He hoped they were wrong. But if they were right, then the big question was, how had he found Harper?

  “Now, please tell me what happened at the ranch?” she asked. “I heard someone was in the hospital.”

  “Leroy. One of my employees you met at the wilderness camp. I could blame myself for that if I thought about it too long.”

  “You can’t blame yourself,” she said.

  “And neither can you.”

  “I thought Wyoming was supposed to have a low crime rate. What is happening around here?”

  “I wish I knew. Sheriff Taggart has his hands full.”

  Heath was glad the sheriff had called in the state regarding the explosion at his ranch. Other agencies could end up involved too. Still, he hoped it wouldn’t come to that. He hoped it wasn’t some kind of crime wave and was more an isolated incident. Taggart even held on to the possibility that the explosion was a fluke, and that an actual bomb wasn’t involved, though the fire chief thought it was deliberate. But the state would decide.

  “And that’s exactly why I have to stay. I want to help him find the woman’s killer. And whoever attacked us tonight.”

  “I have to advise against that, Harper. Maybe as soon as Emily is able to travel, you should head home. Be safe somewhere away from the dangers of Wyoming.” If only he could laugh at those last words. He needed to convince her to leave, but part of him—the insanely selfish part—wanted her to stay. He’d made a connection with her—an emotional one he’d tried to avoid, but he needed to be strong enough to cut that link with her before they both ended up hurt.

  “I’ve spent too much time running away from the villains in my mind. I witnessed her murder. I saw her terror-stricken face. The fear and then death in her eyes.” She shuddered. “I don’t know why, Heath, but I’m compelled to stay and see things through. Maybe the sheriff will let me help.”

  Heath didn’t see that happening. “So if the camper is at the bottom of Granite Ridge, where’s your new camera?”

  “You would have to ask.”

  “Ah, I figured. Well, that’s the least of your worries. I’ll get you another one.”

  “Look, I appreciate the camera, and I’m more than sorry that once again it’s at the bottom of a . . .” Her words trailed off.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up,” he said.

  Harper and Emily could have ended up at the bottom of the ridge with the camper. He’d smelled the smoke when he arrived and suspected the vehicle and camper were charred by this point.

  “What I mean to say is that it’s not necessary for you to get me a replacement camera, though your offer is sweet, very sweet.”

  Did he want to come across as sweet? Nothing he could say at this particular moment would help. Besides, if he wanted to get her a new camera, he would good and well do it without asking permission.

  They drove in silence for a while. Harper had to be worried about her sister. “Let’s pray for your sister. Is that okay with you?”

  “I don’t mind, no. I’ve been praying. I don’t understand why any of it has happened.”

  He remembered that she had offered to pray for him after his mother died. He had let her, but his heart hadn’t been in it. He had been mad at God and himself. But knowing that she was still a praying woman warmed him through and through.

  Together, they prayed for everyone who’d been hurt today. And for the murder investigation to be solved. For the missing woman’s family.

  Evelyn’s words came back to him. “You need to let the good Lord give you someone special, to have and to hold. To love and, yes, protect. Will you do that, Heath?”

  Those were the words she’d said right before the explosion that sent her son to the hospital. Heath hadn’t had the chance to reply. He wasn’t sure now what his answer would be. He hadn’t exactly stood in God’s way, had he? But he’d stood in his own way. His current modus operandi should be to keep his distance from the Lori Someralls and Harper Reynoldses of the world.

  But for the first time in a long time, he wanted to be free of the burden that kept him believing he had to keep his distance. And Harper was the reason. Maybe because of their childhood friendship he still felt like he could open up and be himself with her.

  Maybe he should listen to Evelyn.

  Except Harper had no plans to stay long-term. He squeezed the steering wheel until his knuckles ached.

  This wasn’t the time or the place to even think about that kind of relationship. She’d almost been killed. Her sister was injured. Leroy was in the ICU. What was the matter with him? Irritated, he bulldozed those crazy thoughts far away as he pulled up to the hospital entrance.

  Harper turned to him. “I can’t thank you enough, Heath.”

  “I’m dropping you off here, but I’ll be inside soon. I want to see Emily with you, and also check in on Leroy.”

  “I know I called you tonight. I was desperate, and I appreci
ate everything. But I feel like I’ve been far too much trouble for you already. You have so much to worry about with what happened at the ranch.” She leaned in close enough to give him a warm peck on the cheek again, like she’d done before, then she opened the door. “You take care of yourself.”

  What a nice way to say goodbye. That’s what he got for letting himself believe something could be there—a chance for love, maybe. With a woman who, despite having been his best friend when they were twelve, for all practical purposes was a stranger. Get a grip, man.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  THURSDAY, 3:24 A.M.

  ST. JOHN MEDICAL CENTER

  In the hospital waiting room, Harper sat hunched in an anything-but-comfortable chair, her mind reeling as she waited for what seemed like a lifetime for news on Emily. The pain from her head wound throbbed back to life and now she had additional bruises and scratches to contend with. But she ignored them.

  Emily was in trouble.

  Harper prayed the hardest she’d ever prayed and sipped from a cup of the worst coffee she’d ever tasted. Vending-machine coffee.

  You’re all I have, Emily . . .

  When Dr. Drew, her therapist, suggested she take time to photograph something else entirely, she and Emily started out on this trip. A healing trip.

  The irony was that she ended the trip—on their last day—photographing a murder. And now Emily was hurt because of it.

  She wanted to rail at herself for running away, but Heath McKade’s face came to mind. His words floated through her heart and mind—confirming, reassuring, and soothing.

  “You didn’t look away this time. You took those pictures. You looked at the killer. You watched him . . .”

  Commit the murder. He hadn’t said those words out loud, but she knew that’s what he had meant.

  She refused to let the tears fall and instead tried to take what he’d said to heart. Maybe he was right. Maybe she had changed. She sure hoped so, because she had made the decision to stick around. She’d told Heath she wanted to help find the woman’s killer. Those had been bold words, bolder than she truly felt inside. But somehow Heath had understood. She could see it in his eyes. So when he assured her that she’d done the right thing, it was like he was reaching into her brokenness and pushing the pieces a little closer together.