Rachel Lee - A Secret In Conard County

“So you’ve got this guy who has it in for women.”

“Apparently. Little did we guess I’d be his next target.”

Lance swore quietly. “But why? Any ideas? I mean...” He paused. “I guess if you can’t profile his victims, you can’t know why he picked you.”

“Yes, we can. Because his victims were all much younger than me. Early twenties. I’m outside the box. Then I got a phone call. I can’t say much about it, but at that point we were pretty sure he’d somehow learned I was on the task force working the case, and that I’d found an important piece of evidence.”

He gave a low whistle, a frown settling over his face. He didn’t even give Mavis a halfhearted smile when she slammed the food down between them. “That should never have gotten out,” he said when they were alone again.

“No.” She looked down at her plate, appetite nearly gone, reminding herself that eating was as important as breathing. She forced herself to pick up a fork. “Long story short. Before we’d even begun to really work the angle, I was at home alone that night, uneasy as all get-out, thinking about just going back to the office, when I heard something outside. Just a little sound, but I was jumpy. I went out, walked around to the side of my house and there he was. I lowered my gun because I saw a cop.”

“Oh, hell,” he murmured.

“He turned when I called out and shot me. I fell. The house blew up. And here we are.”

She stared at her plate, at the fork in her hand, and tried to shove the shadows of memory away. For a long time Lance didn’t make a sound. Absorbing what she had told him, she guessed. Purely out of willpower, she cut off a piece of omelet and put it in her mouth. It might have been sawdust.

“I’m surprised you didn’t shoot me,” he said finally.

“Well, my hand was on my sidearm,” she reminded him.

“True.”

She cut some more egg. “I didn’t get a look at his face. It was dark, and frankly I don’t remember anything except the muzzle flash as he fired at me. The irony is that I survived the bomb because I was lying flat on my face in the grass beside a tree and bleeding out when it went off. Bet he didn’t expect that.”

He finally cut into his own pancakes. “I’m surprised they didn’t put it out that you were dead.”

At that she lifted her head. “How did he know who I was, where I lived and how to reach me? Until we figure that out, no cover story would work, because someone on the inside might have loose lips.”

“You’re right, that’s what Gage said your ASAC is worried about.”

She went back to eating and to compartmentalizing what had happened to her. These were memories she kept safely locked away, memories that bubbled up usually only in her nightmares. She was having plenty of them these days.

“A safe house wouldn’t work either, if you’ve got a leak,” he remarked.

“That’s why they didn’t argue very hard when I said I wanted to hit the road,” she agreed. She began to eat a little faster, trying to put a distasteful chore behind her. At some level she realized she was eating a great omelet, but most of her didn’t want to eat at all. Just get it done. Like everything else. One foot in front of the other until she could take the guy on again. Or until someone else caught him. At this point she didn’t much care who took him down.

“You know,” she said slowly, “before this happened there was an ugly part of me that wanted to be the one who nailed this guy. Me personally. Now I don’t care who gets him as long as he’s caught.”

“You’re competitive, right?”

She looked up. “Yes.”

“And it must be harder for a woman in the Bureau than a man. Oh, I know all about equal opportunity, but then there’s reality.”

“Maybe,” she said cautiously.

“Of course you wanted to be the one to bring him down. That’s not ugly unless it hinders your performance. Just human nature.”

She already liked this guy, but she realized she could start to really like him. “Who made you so wise?”

He laughed, the sound instantly lightening the mood. It rolled out of him easily. “Street smarts,” he finally said.

Her curiosity about him was growing fast. “So what’s your story?” she asked.

“My wounding, you mean? I didn’t duck fast enough.”

In spite of everything, she felt her lips starting to curl into a smile. “That simple?”

“Especially when you’re facing an AR-15 on full auto, yes.”

Shock rippled through her. “Full auto? It’s a wonder you weren’t cut in half.”

“You can thank body armor and the economy for that.”

That surprised a small laugh out of her. “The economy?”

“Guy was unemployed. He couldn’t afford armor-piercing bullets. Still, he got me four times, arms and legs.”

She nodded and scooped up more egg. “You’ve recovered well.”

“It was years ago. I’ve had longer than you. Take it easy on yourself, Erin. We’re here, we’re not half-bad even by the Bureau’s standards and we’ll look after you. Just work on healing. When the time comes, we’ll need you in the best shape possible.”

When the time comes. She thought about that as she finished her breakfast. He seemed awfully sure that they were going to face the guy here. Well, she’d said they might as well have the showdown in this small town. But he also seemed to think they might have time.

But time enough for her to get her strength back? The Fates should be so kind.

Chapter 3

“You can’t stay at the motel,” he told her as they walked back to his car.

She had to agree with that. If she was at risk, then a lot of other people would be at risk. “Where, then?”

“I was going to suggest you stay with my aunt Maria, but much as she’d love the company, no way am I exposing her to you.”

She liked his honesty and answered with her own. “I seem to be deadly.”

“Exactly. So... My place.”

“Your place?”

“I’ve got plenty of room, and it’s away from other houses, so if this guy gets a wild hair to bomb it, nobody else will get hurt. It’ll also give us some nice clear sight lines.”

She could appreciate the sight lines but had other concerns. She kept them to herself until she had climbed slowly back into his vehicle.

“Well?” he asked as he turned over the ignition.

“Your house would be at risk.”

“I know. It’s insured.”

“Not against criminal acts, I bet. Most policies have an exception for that.”

“Not mine. I’m a cop and I can read. Look, Erin, you can’t hit the road. Frankly, you’re in poor condition to protect yourself, and like the sheriff pointed out earlier, whichever way you go, it’d be easy to follow you. Not a whole lot else between here and there, is all. You don’t want to be crossing the mountains by yourself in your condition. Do I need to keep on?”

She knew she was tired of running. She’d as much as said so in the sheriff’s office. Besides, she was beginning to wonder why she should have to be the one hiding or running. It made her blood boil just thinking about it. Trying to keep one step ahead of a criminal hardly suited her nature.

But she didn’t want to cost Lance Conroe a whole lot. Like his house. Like his life. It seemed so wrong.

“Can I get a flight out of here?”

“Only two commercial flights a week—a puddle jumper in and out of Denver on Friday and Sunday night,” he answered. “There used to be a daily flight while they were building the resort, but that’s all on hold. We have some folks who own small light planes, and one guy runs an executive jet service out of here, which is usually more out of here than here, if you get me. I think he’s in Mexico right now. Anyway, none of those little twin-engine jobs could get you safely across the mountains and I’m not sure their owners would even want to try. They’re ranchers, Erin, not pilots, if you get my drift.”