Tara Quinn - Colton's Lethal Reunion

“Yes’m, I know who you are,” the man said, pulling out his own ID. “Grant Alvin,” he said. “My wife and I transferred in with the Forest Service about five years ago. Used to be up at the Grand Canyon,” he said.

Kerry knew some of the forest rangers in the area by sight. Not all. Those near Mustang Valley usually lived in remote, government housing, someplace in national forest territory. And unless there was a matter in MVPD’s jurisdiction, they didn’t really cross paths.

But if he’d been in the area for five years… Shouldn’t someone have talked to him about Tyler’s death? She hadn’t seen his name in any reports. Getting excited as she faced a possible new lead, she said, “I’m investigating my brother’s death.” She named Tyler and gave the man the date and time of death that the coroner had given two years ago.

Staying silent, Rafe stood right beside her, like he was poised to jump to her defense at any moment. Fancy clothes and all. Like his slippery shoes would get anywhere near as far as her well-worn cowboy boots.

Still, she was glad he was there. If the ranger had been a bear—if she’d been about to die—having Rafe there, dying with him…

“You lookin’ at that old case agin?” Alvin looked at her like she was cow dung. “It was an accident. They all said so.”

“Maybe it was,” Kerry acknowledged, not wanting to get on the wrong side of the Forest Service. “I’d just like to be sure.”

“Seems like there’d be more important stuff for you to be doin’,” the somewhat-large man said, holding his ground, his arms crossed against his chest.

“I’m doing this in my own time,” she told him. And then asked, “You said you’ve been in the area for five years.”

“That’s right.”

“And you patrol this mountain?”

“Sometimes. Depends.”

“Were you here two years ago?”

“Off and on.”

“You ever notice any suspicious activity?”

“No.”

Something about the speed of his response put her on edge. Further on edge. The guy seemed pissed off. Put out.

She and Rafe weren’t doing anything wrong. The land was open to the public. They hadn’t even veered far from where they’d pulled the Jeep off the track.

“No one hanging around…no vehicles that visit frequently? Anything that might be big enough to haul guns in and out? Repeat visitors who only stay a minute or two each time they come?”

“Nothin’,” Alvin said, dropping his arms to take a step closer to them. “There’s nothin’. And now the two of yous need to be getting on down the hill,” he said. “It’s getting late, gonna be dark soon, and there’s all kind of wild animals out here at night. I sure don’t want to be having to come back up and git you down,” he said. And then, with a sour look added, “And them thousand-dollar leather shoes sure ain’t gonna keep that one from sliding off a cliff.” He practically spat the last four words.

Before either of them could respond, the man turned and then walked off.

Kerry could have called him back, but she was just as glad to see him go.

“What the hell was that?” she breathed, staring at Rafe. “Did he just threaten you?”

“Seemed that way.” Eyes narrowed, Rafe was staring after Alvin, who’d apparently come upon them on foot. There was no other vehicle in the immediate vicinity, which would explain why they didn’t know he’d been approaching.

“How’d he know we were up here?”

“I’m guessing he heard the Jeep. Came to check us out.”

Which would be his job. Still… “He seemed kind of paranoid, though. What’s it to him if I look into a cold case?”

“I’m not sure.” Rafe didn’t say much, but one look at his face told Kerry that he wasn’t blowing off the incident. He was going to find out more.

Because he had the clout to do so.

And for the first time in a very, very long time, she was glad that she knew Rafe Colton.

He knew exactly who to call. Chafing to get down off the mountain and into the privacy of his truck, Rafe thought about the woman he’d known briefly, but intimately, almost a decade ago. Colton Oil had mistakenly been excavating on government land. As the newly appointed CFO and eager to prove himself, Rafe had quickly and personally presented a financial offer to the government’s attorney, Shelly Marston, to allow the company to continue drilling with more than fair remuneration to the government. He’d spared CO the cost of pulling out, applying for permission to drill and moving back in, and the government received more than usual compensation for the use of the land. And Shelly… She’d reminded him of Kerry. Same auburn hair. Same strength and sass. One night with her had told him that he couldn’t go back. And that it was grossly unfair to another woman to use her as a stand-in.

Which was just as well. The next morning, when Shelly told him at breakfast that she’d appreciate it if, as part of their deal, he’d keep their night together just between the two of them, he’d noticed the wedding ring that had not been on her hand the day before.

She’d said that she and her husband were separated, going through some growing pains with careers that took them to different parts of the country, but that her night with Rafe had shown her how much she loved her family.

They’d used each other. Which had formed an odd bond between them. A completely nonsexual, noncommunicative bond. They’d go years without talking. But when either of them needed some professional advice in the area of the other’s expertise, they picked up the phone trusting that it would be answered…

He saw a flash—a reflection off silver—a second before Kerry rounded the bend. Suddenly, they were forced cliffside, inches from going over.

His shoulder hit the door. He felt Kerry swerve again, felt the propulsion forward as his chest slammed into the seat belt, sensed a tightening within that braced for the unknown. And was aware of the thud as the Jeep came to a stop nose to nose with the mountain on the opposite side of the road. It took him a second to realize that flash of silver had been another vehicle.

By the time they’d stilled, his mind had caught up, was giving him instant replay in rapid staccato. And Kerry was saying, “Stay down,” and was out of the vehicle, gun drawn, crouching with her door as a shield on one side and the mountain at her back.

Keeping his head below the windshield, Rafe slid across the seat, digging his thigh with the gearshift, and slid out her open door to crouch beside her.

“That was deliberate,” she said. “He was waiting in this alcove for us to come around the corner.”

“The ranger?” He’d eventually caught up to the situation. Knew that she’d had the wherewithal to swerve on the wrong side of the oncoming vehicle that had been clearly gunning to run them off the narrow road into the valley below.

She shrugged. “Who else?” The tension in her voice stung him. Alerting him anew to the danger of their situation.

“Something about us up there, looking into Tyler’s death, sure had him paranoid,” he said aloud, looking behind him, up what he could see of the part of the winding road they’d just descended. “We need to go,” he said urgently, but softly, as though he could be overheard. “He’s going to be coming back down.”

She nodded. Did a three-sixty with her gun pointed out in front of her. And stopped.

“What’s that?” she said, pointing with her gun to a space in front of her opened car door. With the falling dusk, he didn’t immediately see what she was pointing at.

And then he did.

A boot. One that hadn’t been there long enough even to get dusty or look unused. To have white bird droppings or chewed holes.