Fugitive Chase

by Jenna Night

  She kept the call connected but switched the phone to speaker mode and shoved it into her pocket. The smoke was getting unbearably thick, and the heat rolling off the flames had her feeling dizzy and nauseated.

  Wheezing and coughing, she stumbled toward Harry. He’d found an old, oversize, steel ice chest and shoved it against the wall below the skylight. Then he’d tipped over the tallest bookcase to dump everything off of it, dragged it over and put it on top of the ice chest. But the uppermost shelf reached a point at least four feet below the bottom edge of the skylight.

  Harry reached out to her, both of his big hands clasping her upper arms. He leaned down so that his face was close to hers and she could see a reflection of the flickering flames in his eyes. “If we get you to the top shelf, can you pull yourself up and out through the skylight?”

  She pulled her right arm free from his grip to cover her mouth while another coughing fit hit her. Each cough meant she drew in another lungful of smoky air and the wheezing grew stronger.

  She wanted to say yes, that she could do it. After everything he’d done for her, she didn’t want to let him down. But the truth was that given how light-headed she was feeling from lack of oxygen, she wasn’t sure what she’d be able to do.

  “Give me a pole or a rake or something and I can climb up and use that to reach the skylight and break it,” she said in answer to his question. “That will get us some fresh air in here until the fire department arrives.”

  And that had better be really soon. The fire was growing at an especially alarming rate.

  “A rush of air could fuel the fire and make it more intense,” Harry said, sounding calm but very focused. He finally let go of her left arm. “We’re both going to climb up. You’ll go first, but I’ll be right behind you. And I’ll help you get out the skylight.”

  She worried that she couldn’t stay steady on her feet as she climbed the bookcase, and that she’d cause them both to fall. But what other option did she have? Fire had already reached the overhead beams. She could hear the wood cracking and moaning. The roof could collapse at any second.

  Harry had her hand by the hand and started moving closer to the bookcase. Then he grabbed a long pole with a fishing net at the end. “When we get to the top, I’ll use this to break the skylight and push as much glass as I can out of the way. Then we’ll toss my jacket across the bottom of the frame so you don’t cut yourself. And I’ll boost you out the opening.”

  “It’s going to be a long drop on the other side,” she said, fighting to take in enough air to get the words out.

  Just then a crossbeam overhead broke and a chunk of the wood fell, sending up a spray of glowing red embers. It was all the reminder she needed that a fall could mean broken bones—but staying put would definitely lead to her death.

  “Okay,” she said quickly, nodding her head. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

  She scrabbled up the bookcase, which didn’t feel particularly steady. Harry climbed up close behind her, talking to her, calling out to tell her that she was doing a good job and to keep going. Shaky with fear and adrenaline, she finally made it to the very top.

  Harry came up alongside her. He took the fishing net, turned the handle end toward the window and punched through the glass. A rush of cool air blasted in and the flames behind them flared brighter, eagerly eating up the new source of oxygen. He pushed the pole around a few more times to clear away glass.

  Then he dropped the pole, took off his jacket and flung it up toward the windowsill. Before she could say anything, he knelt down, wrapped his arms around her shins and started to lift her up. She bent over and at first, she balanced her free hand on his shoulder to hold herself steady. As he lifted her higher, she straightened up and then reached for the sides of the skylight.

  She took a deep gulp of fresh air and looked out. And then she looked down. It was a long way to the ground, but at least there was some snow piled up against the side of the building. And something else, snow-covered, but with an irregular outline. Something that might help to break her fall. She couldn’t identify it—and didn’t have the time to think about it for long. She was holding up Harry’s escape and she needed to get moving.

  Dear Lord, please help us, she prayed. And then she jumped.

  She landed on her left hip, falling a couple of feet into the snow where she hit something more solid. She bounced a little and then rolled until she came to a stop.

  Stunned, she lay still for a moment until Harry called out the window, “Are you all right?”

  She moved each of her limbs a little and it didn’t feel like anything was broken. But she’d had the wind knocked out of her and couldn’t quite catch her breath to reply, so she just raised a hand and waved.

  She heard something crashing inside the garage. It sounded like part of the roof. And then Harry jumped out of the window, landing in the snow, sliding and rolling until he came to a stop. Unlike Ramona, he quickly got to his feet. He hurried over to her.

  “I’m okay,” she wheezed as he helped her sit up.

  Something else crashed inside the garage as the west-facing wall collapsed inward.

  Harry got her to her feet and practically carried her away from the building, now fully engulfed in flames. She could hear sirens. It sounded like a fire engine was coming up the drive. Red lights flashed across the side of the house and on the nearby snow.

  Harry wrapped his arms around her and she collapsed into him, soaking up the strength and warmth and comfort he offered. How could it be true that she’d only met this man days ago when it felt like they’d been together for a long time? And that they belonged together.

  She heard voices and the sounds of emergency personnel talking over radios.

  Then she heard a sharp popping sound. And another. Snow kicked up at the feet. And then the bark on a nearby tree splintered.

  Harry pushed her to the ground, shielding her body with his.

  Those weren’t popping sounds. They were sounds of rifle fire. Somebody was shooting at them.

  * * *

  “Captain Hyatt from Bridger PD let us know that one of her officers found a couple of shell casings about twenty yards from where you stood,” Sergeant Bergman said. “I don’t know how the shooter missed hitting you from that close of a distance. My guess is that they were trying to shoot and run away at the same time.”

  Five hours had passed since Ramona and Harry had walked into that garage and nearly lost their lives. The building had been a total loss, collapsing completely as soon as the firefighters started hitting it with heavy streams of water. An EMT on scene had convinced Ramona to go to the town’s small hospital to treat her asthma and get checked out by a physician. She’d had Harry drive her rather than riding in an ambulance. A couple of hits from her inhaler had helped a lot, but Harry had insisted she go anyway.

  After that, they talked to the local police about everything that had happened. Captain Hyatt had ordered them a pizza to eat while they were at the station. Ramona had been surprised to find herself ravenous when it arrived. She would have expected to have the whole experience kill her appetite, but it hadn’t. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that after this attempt on her life—on their lives—she was more angry than frightened. Not because she had suddenly gotten a lot braver, but because she was tired of feeling so fearful.

  Right now, she was in the bail bonds office in downtown Stone River, seated on the couch in the lobby beside Harry. The police department was only a block away, and the sergeant had walked over to give them an update on the police investigation in Bridger. Cassie was there along with Leon and Martin, the third bounty hunter who worked with Harry.

  “Could finding the bullet casings help you find the shooter?” Ramona asked. Her voice sounded husky and her throat was scratchy from smoke inhalation.

  “Not necessarily,” Bergman said. “Not unless the police in Br
idger can recover fingerprints. But they’re still looking to recover slugs. And if they can connect those to a registered gun, or maybe to a gun in the possession of someone we’re able to arrest, that would help with an eventual conviction.”

  Beside her, Harry let out a sigh. “I should have known better than to just walk in there,” he said. He reached over for Ramona’s hand and squeezed it. “I’m sorry.”

  “Nobody gets things right one hundred percent of the time,” Bergman said in his usual matter-of-fact tone. “You learn from the experience, determine you’re not going to repeat that same mistake, and you move on.”

  Ramona could see by the tight expression on Harry’s face that the cop’s comment hadn’t sunk in at all. No surprise. Harry’s frustration with himself had been evident on the two-hour drive home. It wasn’t just injured pride or bruised ego. He really seemed to think it was his responsibility to do everything perfectly.

  “What about Paul?” Harry asked Bergman. “The guy at the sports shop? I told the cops in Bridger that we talked with him. He could have warned Linder we were poking around. Have they found any evidence that he was involved?”

  She and Harry had discussed the question of who could have known they were headed up to Bridger to check on the vacation house. Paul was one obvious possibility. And much as Ramona hated to admit it, the other obvious possibility was Jasmine. Ramona held on to the hope that even if Jasmine was the source, that the giveaway might have been inadvertent. Maybe she’d somehow accidentally spilled the beans, mentioned something to someone she thought she could trust and that person had passed the word along.

  Ramona had called her cousin when she and Harry got back to town. She’d left a message telling Jasmine that they were at the bail bonds office and that she needed to talk to her. So far, she hadn’t heard back.

  Darrin had to somehow be connected to the trap and the fire in the garage. Maybe he’d been there himself. Or maybe he’d had someone else set it up.

  “Paul is a high-profile citizen in Bridger,” the sergeant said. “He’s owned that shop for a long time. He sponsors several kids’ sports teams in town. Donates to some civic charities.”

  “Some of the smartest criminals embed themselves in the community so they can hide in plain sight,” Harry said. “Do all the right things so they look like nice people no one would suspect.”

  “Sadly, that’s true,” Bergman said. “They’re checking him out, but they’re keeping it low profile for now.”

  “What about the police here in Stone River?” Ramona asked. “Have you gotten any leads on where Darrin’s been hiding out or on the identities of the other two creeps working with him?”

  “I can only tell you that we have not identified the two accomplices. And as far as we know, Darrin Linder could be anywhere.”

  Ramona blew out a sigh and shifted her weight on the sofa. Her lungs were feeling better, but now her hip and shoulder were sore from where she’d landed on them. In all likelihood, they were going to feel even worse tomorrow. But she was alive. And things could have gone much worse.

  Thank You, Lord, Ramona prayed silently. She tried to catch Harry’s eye to offer him a reassuring smile, but he was staring down at his boots. She wanted him to know that rather than blame him for what had happened, she appreciated him for doing everything he could to keep her safe. And that included risking his own life. More than once. His job was to track and recover bail jumper Darrin Linder. No one was paying him to keep her safe. But he’d gone far beyond what anyone could have expected from him because he was a good person.

  Ramona glanced around at Cassie, Leon and Martin. They were all good people, willing to do whatever they could to help her. She was determined to focus on that, rather than on her fear that Darrin would eventually kill her.

  Bergman stayed for a few more minutes and then headed back to the police station.

  “What did you two learn from your visit over to the coast to talk to Darrin’s parents?” Harry asked Leon and Martin.

  Both men walked over from where they were leaning against their desks and dropped into the chairs across from the sofa. Cassie was still seated at her desk, but she turned away slightly to speak on the phone with someone.

  “Darrin’s parents said they were worried about him and I believe them,” Martin said.

  Martin Silverdeer looked to be a little bit younger than Harry and Leon, with black hair and very dark brown eyes, dusky skin and aquiline features.

  “They said Darrin had changed a lot over the last couple of months,” Martin continued. “They tried to talk to him about it but he blew them off. And then, after he got arrested and they found out he was dealing drugs, they started trying to get an intervention organized. But he jumped bail and disappeared before they could make that happen.”

  “They said they hadn’t seen him or heard from him since he got out of jail, but that they’d call us if he did contact them,” Leon added. “His dad said they’d rather have him locked up and angry with them than have him hurting someone or dead.”

  “What about Jasmine?” Harry turned to Ramona. “You still haven’t heard back from her?”

  Ramona reached for her purse on the ground near her feet to grab her phone. She sucked in a breath to keep herself from yelping in pain. She wasn’t aware of how stiff she was until she tried to move. Now it felt like every muscle in her body was strained and sore. Maybe it was from the fall out the window. Or maybe it was because she’d had to use muscles she barely knew she had to climb up the stupid bookcase when she was fighting to make her escape from the smoke and flames. Or it could be from running for her life—twice. Or the lack of sleep since this whole thing began.

  Come to think of it, she was pretty amazed she could still walk at all.

  She tapped the screen of her phone as she sat back up and saw that she’d received a text from her cousin. Will meet you at the bail bond office as soon as I get off of work. She read it aloud and then glanced at a wall clock. “She should have gotten off work fifteen minutes ago, so I expect she’ll be here any minute.”

  Harry turned to her. “All right, why don’t you just sit here and rest while we’re waiting for her to show up? I’m going to brew some coffee and take a look at my email. I’ve got some other cases I’m working, and I need to check for updated information anyone’s sent me.”

  “Of course,” Ramona said, much more chipper than she genuinely felt. Partly because she liked sitting close to him and didn’t want him to leave. And partly because his reference to his other cases was a reminder that the working relationship, or working friendship, or whatever it was they had, was a temporary deal. It might mean a lot to her, but it was just another day in the office for him.

  It was probably a good thing that his behavior reminded her of that. The truth was that their friendship wasn’t going anywhere. It was a dead-end relationship. From the way he spoke of his day-to-day life, she could tell he was still processing his wife’s passing. As long as that was the case, he was not emotionally available to Ramona or any other woman. Not even if he thought he wanted to be. And she’d promised herself that she was never going to let herself be drawn into a complicated, high-drama relationship ever again.

  Harry got up and walked away. The absence of his body heat beside her suddenly made her feel colder. She crossed her arms over her chest and closed her eyes. She felt tired, too. No wonder. Having an enraged criminal like Darrin Linder, and whoever he had working for him, repeatedly trying to kill you could take a lot out of a girl. She blew out a sigh.

  “Hey.”

  Ramona opened her eyes to see Cassie standing in front of her with a folded-up plush throw in her hands. She tossed it the short distance between them and Ramona caught it.

  “Thanks.”

  “You sure you’re okay?” Cassie asked, concern etching her face.

  Ramona wasn’t exactly okay. She was tired a
nd scared and sore. But Cassie and the bounty hunters were already doing everything they could to help her. So, Ramona just nodded and said, “I’m good. Thanks.”

  Cassie gave her a disbelieving look, then turned and walked back to her desk. Leon and Martin were also back at their desks, working on laptops or thumbing through file folders. Cassie had told her that their workdays typically started in the evening and went well into the night. And Harry had just reminded Ramona that hers was not the only case they had.

  Ramona unfurled the throw over her lap and legs and leaned back into the couch, determined to leave everyone alone and let them get their work done. But then she caught a whiff of the rich aroma of coffee brewing and knew she had to have some.

  When she figured enough time had passed for it to finish brewing, she tossed aside the throw and was about to stand up when the door flung open and Jasmine walked in.

  “I heard what happened. I’m so glad you’re all right!” Jasmine called out, making a beeline for her cousin. She was dressed to the nines, as usual, in a stylish gray suit and narrow-heeled pumps.

  Ramona groaned a little as she stood up, fighting against the soreness that was really settling into her body now, and Jasmine grabbed her in a tight hug.

  “I’m so sorry all of this is happening to you,” Jasmine said, teary-eyed as she finally released her embrace, but she continued to hold Ramona at arm’s length, appearing to scan her for injuries.

  “Stop blaming yourself. You couldn’t have known all of this would happen when you started dating Darrin,” Ramona said.

  However, speaking of things people could or couldn’t know, she found herself revisiting the question she Harry had been discussing on and off all day. How had the attacker at the garage known that Harry and Ramona were coming and when they would be there?

  Looking at Jasmine right now, wiping away a tear, her big hazel eyes filled with concern, Ramona couldn’t believe that her cousin could have had any connection with today’s attack, or any connection at all with Darrin anymore.