Josh nodded, picked up the pen, and started writing.
I’d bought some ready-made mac and cheese at the grocery. I warmed it on the Coleman stove and sliced a few apples while he worked.
“Here’s the list.” Josh slid it my way.
I read through it while I ate, but everything tasted like cardboard. Too much going on—my taste buds were in hiding. I pushed the food aside and gave the list my full attention. Eleven names and addresses. Josh had even written down zip codes.
“We need to decide how to prioritize this. Figure out which one is him.” I picked up the pen. “One of these men is from California and one from Arizona. It’s possible they could have been in Aspen in January, but that waitress said he was a regular at the bar. Let’s put them lower on the list. That leaves nine.”
Josh pulled out his phone. He typed for a minute and then showed me his screen.
He’d entered the first name and address into a general White Pages search, and he read the result aloud. “James Manchester, age twenty-two. Same address as Helen and Howard Manchester, both in their fifties, so he’s probably living with his parents.”
“Brilliant. Not Sawyer. We’ll scratch him off for now.”
We worked our way through the rest of the list using the same approach. Too young. Too old. Too distant. Nobody was an exact match for Sawyer’s age, but if he’d reinvented himself this thoroughly, why not make up a new birthdate as well? We kept everyone in a ten-year range.
We ended up with three possibilities that seemed most likely. James Willoughby lived in Colorado Springs. Jim Princeton lived on a remote road halfway between Vail and Aspen. And James Staunton lived just west of Aspen. Amazing what you could learn on the internet.
“We can try Princeton first. He’s closest. Then move on to this Staunton guy. If that doesn’t pan out, we can head for Colorado Springs.”
“Okay.” Neutral tone. Blank face.
“Hey. Are you all right? If you want to talk …”
Josh’s lips tightened, but not before I detected a suppressed quiver. He straightened. Stiffened his shoulders. Swung his legs over the picnic bench, stood up, and stalked off. Tellico followed at his heels, his head lifted, nosing gently for a pat, but Josh pushed him away.
My grade as a substitute parent? F minus. Admittedly, this father-rising-from-the-dead scenario probably wasn’t a chapter in any parenting book, but I needed to do better.
I sighed and started in on the dishes, the campground still silent and suddenly lonely.
* * *
We broke camp the next morning in silence. I hadn’t slept well, waking each time my dreams plunged me into another rapid. Sawyer was there in my dreams, alive; he was there in my dreams, dead. I was moving in a daze, numb and exhausted.
We loaded the last bit of gear into the truck. Josh’s face was gray with fatigue, and dark circles sagged under his eyes. Every time I’d wakened in the night, he’d been awake as well, staring silently at the tent roof.
“All set?” I tried to sound enthusiastic.
Josh gave me a tired nod in response.
“Let me do a final check.” I circled the campsite, looking for stray tent stakes or other overlooked odds and ends. Josh leaned against the truck, waiting with Tellico beside him. And in that moment of calm, a large SUV rolled to a stop on the campground drive, blocking our exit.
I froze for a fatal instant. Josh whirled, too late, but faster reflexes probably wouldn’t have made any difference. Three of the SUV doors swung open simultaneously, and three men leaped out, moving fast.
Two of them were the thugs who’d showed up at the campground Friday night. The stocky guy carried a long metal pole with a wire loop at the end, and he headed straight for Tellico. In one quick motion, he dropped the loop over Tellico’s head and tightened it with a jerk. The dog yelped and then gave a strangled whine, the snare choking him.
The thin guy zeroed in on me, grabbed me by the shoulders, and threw me hard onto the picnic table.
The third man was Carl—here, in Colorado, not safely distant in Memphis—and the sight of him launched an instant surge of adrenaline that sent my heartrate soaring toward a panic-driven extreme. He seized Josh, twisted his arm behind his back, and pushed him my way.
It all happened incredibly fast. They were organized, efficient, and domineering. Except for Tellico’s yelp, the attack had been totally silent.
The three men clustered tight around me. I was breathing fast, almost gasping, and it took a massive effort to sit still instead of trying to break loose and run. I should never have believed I could win a battle with Carl. The hard lump of the knife in my pocket only underscored how powerless I was. What good would a knife be against these three?
Josh was immobilized by his twisted arm, but Carl also held a small revolver in his hand, its muzzle pressed against Josh’s side. I couldn’t stop staring at that gun, so compact but so lethal. The sight jolted me back to that icy scene in Memphis so long ago, when the horrors of the accident were replaced by the shock of imminent danger. Carl had aimed his gun at Sawyer then, and my fear had been tinged with incredulous disbelief. But I didn’t have the luxury of disbelief this time. We were in a public campground with other people around us, but I didn’t doubt Carl would shoot if it gave him an advantage.
I tore my eyes away from the gun and looked at Josh. “You okay?” My voice shook so hard, the words were barely intelligible.
A stupid question, but Josh gave me a curt nod, looking more angry than scared.
“He’s okay now, but whether he stays that way is up to you.” Carl shoved Josh forward, letting go of his arm, and I caught him as he stumbled. He sat beside me on the picnic table bench, rubbing his shoulder and glaring at Carl.
Tellico growled and tugged against the snare that trapped him, but his struggles were futile. I’d seen such a device used long ago to catch a rabid raccoon—a way to capture a crazed animal while keeping the handler safe from attack at the other end of the pole. I’d never imagined seeing it used on my own dog.
“Tellico, sit. Stay.” He gave one final jerk but obeyed. The man holding the pole relaxed slightly, but he continued to hang on with both hands. He eyed the dog as if he expected him to attack at any moment despite the restraint.
“Everything okay over there?” The voice came from the campsite next door. The young family there was eating breakfast, and the father had taken a step in our direction, peering through the saplings and undergrowth that separated us, his face concerned. Carl and his men had been careful to block any view of the gun and the snare, but their abrupt arrival must have attracted notice.
“Wave to them,” Carl ordered quietly. “Tell them everything is fine. This is a private discussion.”
I gave the family what might have passed as a smile and waved as directed. “Everything’s fine. No worries.” My voice creaked, but I got the words out. I felt like a total coward, obeying Carl that way, but it worked. The man turned back to his family, and his wife went back to doling out cereal and juice.
Carl looked far too smug at this evidence of my obedience. “Now then.” His voice was hard, and its menace dropped the air temperature by at least ten degrees. “I gave you a week. You’ve brought me nothing. Give me one good reason I shouldn’t put a bullet in Josh’s leg here.” He glanced at Josh. “It’s your mother’s fault you’re in this mess. What a useless bitch.”
Josh drew in a sharp breath and leaned forward as if preparing to leap, and I put a restraining hand on his knee. “Carl, wait. Don’t hurt him. He’s just a kid.” That brought Carl’s focus back to me, the look in his eyes so intimidating I broke out in a sweat. “I’ll do what you ask. I’ll do anything.” I choked down a tight swallow and tried to control the shaking in my arms and legs.
There had been moments at the homestead and in Memphis when I’d faced Carl in anger and held onto my self-respect, but the risk was too great for that kind of bravado now. “We’ve been trying. Honest. You’ve been tracking
us, so you know we’ve been here in Colorado looking. We have a lead—someone who may know where Del is. Give us a few more days.” I hated the pleading tone in my voice, but that gun never wavered from Josh.
Carl frowned, and a muscle in his forehead twitched. “Give me the name. I’ll honor them with a personal visit. Find out what they know.”
“It’s not one name; it’s thirteen.” I wasn’t about to admit we’d narrowed the list down. I tried to find the right words to convince him. “You don’t want to waste your time zigzagging around half the state, do you? We’ll do it. We’ll find her.”
Carl leaned toward me, and waves of poorly restrained anger pushed against my face. “This had better be straight.” He looked at Josh, and his hand tightened on the gun. I tensed, wondering if I had the nerve to jump in the way if he decided to shoot.
Carl considered it. I could see it on his face. He wanted more than fear; he wanted to maim. He wanted to prove he was in charge. But he glanced at the family in the next campsite, and I think it was their presence, not anything I promised, that tipped the balance.
He straightened and took a step back. “Today is Sunday. You have until Wednesday, but I need those pills by noon. I’ll text you Wednesday morning, and you will call me back at that number within five minutes of my text. I’ll tell you where to bring the pills.” He was issuing orders as if my compliance was guaranteed.
And he was right—I would do as he said. There was no way I could stand up to this man, not with Josh at risk. I nodded. “Wednesday. I’ll call when you text. We’ll have the pills.”
“Don’t think for a moment you’ve got a way out. You’re still working for me. I’ll give you these few more days, but you’d better come through.”
He gestured to his men. The gun disappeared. The man holding Tellico waved me toward him. “Come grab his collar.”
I did so, and he loosened the snare and slipped the loop off Tellico’s neck. Tellico lunged toward his captor with a snarl, but I held him back.
The three men stalked back to their SUV and drove off without a backward glance. I sank onto the bench beside Josh. Tellico rested his head on Josh’s knee, and Josh rubbed the ruffled fur where the snare had tightened down. Neither of us had the energy to say a word.
“Hey, is everything really okay over there?”
I looked up. It was the father from the site next door, who had ventured again in our direction.
I fought down a wave of hysterical laughter. Okay? You’ve got to be kidding. But I lifted a reassuring hand. “We’re fine. Just a minor family issue. Thanks for checking.”
He nodded, still not looking fully convinced, but he returned to his kids. He had no idea that he was the one who had saved us.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Bryn
It took ten more minutes before I stopped shaking. It was my fault Carl had found us—I should have packed up and moved as soon as we disabled that tracker. I’d been so sure he was miles away; I’d dropped my guard. Finding Sawyer had been a further distraction.
I kept replaying the scene, wishing I’d stood up to him, wishing I was a warrior instead of a wimp. But just thinking about the look on his face when he considered hurting Josh swamped me with fear all over again.
“He wouldn’t have shot.” Josh paced in front of me. “He wouldn’t have dared.”
He was on an adrenaline high, acting tough, and I didn’t try to argue. The fact that we’d gotten out of the confrontation without major damage was nothing short of a miracle. And now we had to follow through and find Sawyer, which was still the best path to finding Del.
“Come on.” I forced my legs to support me and hauled myself off the bench. “Let’s get going.”
We climbed into the truck, and I pulled back onto I-70, heading west toward Aspen. My thoughts were ricocheting so violently I could hear them pinging off the inside of my skull.
Avoid Carl. Find Del. Find Sawyer to find Del. Find Sawyer to vent my anger. Find a way to walk away from the whole damn mess and leave Sawyer to his personal hell.
From one instant to the next, I changed my priorities, the after-effects of the altercation with Carl making my head spin. But eventually I calmed a bit. Find Sawyer. That was step one.
Josh stared out the window, calmer now and no doubt lost in his own struggling thoughts. He’d gone straight to bed after his walk the previous night, ignoring my attempts to get him to talk. Now, in addition to seeing his long-dead father, he had Carl to worry about.
“How are you doing?”
He shrugged.
Maybe the best way to help him was to focus on the task at hand. “Pull that Jim Princeton address up on your phone, will you? Tell me where I’m supposed to turn.”
He grunted but did as I asked. We wound our way from the freeway to a twisting local road, then turned onto a rutted, gravel track that zigzagged straight up a mountain. Stands of aspen were scattered at intervals, their leaves dancing in the breeze, and broad swaths of wildflowers tinted the undergrowth with blue and pink and yellow. It would have been pretty if I were in any sort of mood to notice beauty.
Houses were scattered out here, perched on stilts to counteract the steep ground and positioned for the best views. Many looked empty, maybe vacation homes used only in the winter for skiing. I slowed, dodging potholes and washboard stretches of bumps.
We finally reached a dirt driveway beside a blue mailbox.
“Turn here.” Josh closed his phone screen. “This is it.” His jaw was locked tight, his voice shrill. He plucked at the hem of his T-shirt, more nervous than I’d ever seen him.
I was in no better shape, every muscle taut. This could be where Sawyer lived. This could be another confrontation.
We bounced our way up the drive, with trees so close on both sides their branches threatened to scrape the truck. A few hundred feet up, a small house stood tucked in a miniature clearing with a dented pickup parked to one side. A German shepherd bounded off the porch as soon as we were in sight, barking like crazy, and Tellico gave a deep growl from the seat behind me.
“Just sit here and wait,” I said to Josh. “Whoever’s here knows we’ve arrived.”
To the left, a weedy garden plot struggled for sunlight. On the right, a sandbox stood beside a child’s swing. This, I hadn’t considered. Sawyer with a new family?
Josh stared at the swing, his teeth grinding so loud I could hear it.
A woman stepped onto the porch and peered out at us. She looked like she was in her early thirties, pretty, with long black hair pulled into a single thick braid.
I lifted one hand in what I hoped was a reassuring greeting.
She said something to the dog, and he stopped barking and trotted back to join her on the porch, alert and panting hard. Josh and I climbed out of the truck, and I took a few steps forward to talk. I could smell bread baking, and the homey scent seemed out of place in the house of a fugitive.
“Can I help you?” The woman sounded nice enough, but she was understandably wary. This wasn’t a location that saw many drop-in visitors. I flashed back to Carl’s visit to my homestead, with its horrifying result, and tried to look harmless.
“Sorry to bother you. I’m trying to track down a distant cousin of mine, James Princeton. We last heard from him when he was living in Denver years ago.” The lie rolled easily off my tongue. Josh gave me a quick glance, and I hoped he could keep his face neutral. “We were out this way on vacation and saw a Jim Princeton listed online at this address …” I wrapped up with what I hoped was an ingratiating smile.
The woman pursed her lips, her head tipped to one side. Behind her, a small boy, perhaps three or four years old, peered through the open door. I inspected his face but couldn’t detect any echo of Sawyer.
“I’m not sure you’ve got the right Princeton.” The woman sounded genuinely regretful. “Jim is an only child, as are both his parents, so he doesn’t have much in the way of extended family. I think I met all of them at our wedding.”
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br /> “It’s a distant connection. Is your husband here? I’ve seen old photos, so just seeing him would reassure me this is a dead end.”
She looked skeptical, as well she might. It sounded pretty thin.
“He’s not here … but I expect him back any minute. You should leave. If you meet him on the drive, one or the other of you is going to have to back up.”
She wasn’t skilled at lying, her eyes dropping to her shoes as soon as she claimed he’d return shortly. He was probably still at the Games. Or, if he were Sawyer, perhaps he was headed for Outer Mongolia.
I wasn’t sure what to do next, but Josh jumped in and saved me. “Mom, you should tell this lady the whole story.”
I hoped my look of pure astonishment at being called Mom was brief enough that the woman wouldn’t notice. Startling, but at the same time, kind of nice.
Josh forged ahead without missing a beat. “I mean, if this is the right man, all that money would be theirs.”
The woman straightened and gave me a sharp look. “What money?”
I fumbled for an answer that might not sound too idiotic. “It’s an estate from my great-uncle. None of it can be distributed until we either find James or prove he’s dead. So, you see, we’re eager to figure it out.” Was this how estates worked? I didn’t have a clue. Fortunately, neither did she.
“Wait here. I’ll get a picture.” She disappeared into the house, returning in a moment holding a framed photograph. She stepped off the porch and handed it to me. The shepherd flopped onto his belly, reassured all was well, and the boy, dark-haired and dumpy, plopped down beside him.
I held the picture so Josh could see. The man in the photo had a rugged handsomeness, but he absolutely, positively wasn’t Sawyer. “I’m sorry. I’m afraid this looks nothing like my cousin.”
The woman shrugged, unsurprised. “Figures. Well, worth a shot.”
We returned to the truck, and I inched around in a twelve-point turn to head downhill. “Good job,” I said to Josh. “I didn’t know what to say next.” I was still recovering from that Mom reference.
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