Seeking Worthy Pursuits: A Dark Romantic Suspense Novel (Alace Sweets Book 2)

by MariaLisa deMora

  When she thought she could depend on her voice not to break or waver, she cleared her throat and nodded. “Thank you.” Eric’s fingers threaded through hers, and when his mouth opened, she shook her head at him. “Nope. Nuh-uh. Don’t do it. I’ve got all of this under control right now, but it’s not far away. I’m a woman on the brink, my husband, and I don’t know what to do with all of these feelings.” Another huffed sigh had him cracking a smile at her, and she was reduced to the routine of sniffing, blinking, and swallowing again. “Stop it. I want to show Owen the tech I got for his nighttime hike. If you make me cry, I won’t get to it for a long time. There’s a chance that the Temple woman had an opportunity to take a final victim. She was in the woods for a reason when she met up with Owen.” The longer she talked, the more in control she felt, and Alace felt herself settling. Neither man would be upset if she had dissolved into tears, but there was work to do and it wasn’t her way. Had never been, and wouldn’t be, if she had anything to do with it. “Owen, there’s a chair in the hallway. Grab that and come sit so we can share the screen. I’ve got toys.”

  “Yes, ma’am, boss lady, ma’am.” He unfolded from his position on the floor, flowing upward to standing without any apparent effort. Flashing her that damn grin she was coming to depend on as a barometer for his mood, he angled towards the door.

  She couldn’t let his repeated ma’aming go without mention, though. Following his direction, she offered him a little Alace-style humor. Dominant, but still playful. Sure, we’ll go with that.

  “Are you looking to be killed? Because that’s how you get killed around me.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Owen

  Pausing at the top of a ridge for a quick breather and much-needed drink of water, Owen pivoted in a slow circle as he took in the surrounding peaks with forested shoulders and valleys. Just over the top of a pass to the west, he could see the ranger fire watch tower he’d noticed when he was here before. A shiver worked down his spine as he remembered the feeling of being stalked, tables turned in a way he never wanted to experience again.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Owen blinked, and he lifted the water valve to his lips and bit down again, taking a long, slow drink. “Just takin’ a minute, boss lady.”

  “Your heartrate spiked for a moment.”

  “I knew letting you do the biometric harness would be a mistake.” He shook his head and tapped the microphone attached behind the hinge of his jaw. The adhesive was strong, and it couldn’t be sweated off, or so Alace’s source had promised her. Didn’t mean it didn’t pull and tug at his whiskers. “I shoulda shaved before I let you tape me up.”

  “Noted.”

  He didn’t doubt she had a running list of things they could do to fine-tune the rig. That was just her style. And his, if he wanted to admit to it. They’d worked on the setup until after midnight; then he’d climbed in his car and set off for the trailhead. She’d dialed in mid-morning, and he didn’t know if that was because she’d slept in—something that didn’t seem her kind of thing—or if that was simply the first time the satellite they depended on for communication had swung into place. His pace had been quick, a determined trail-running stride he could keep up for hours, only slowing for extreme climbs like the ridge he’d just topped.

  He used the bite-valve for the bag stored in the light pack suspended between his shoulders to take another deep drink, propping a hip against the column of a tree. “Anything I need to know?”

  “No new missing reports in surrounding towns, and no buzz about anything the local authorities might have stumbled onto. I don’t think she had time to pick up anyone new.”

  “From your mouth to God’s ears. Wish we’d had time to figure out her transport process. Woulda given us a better idea if this is a rescue or the beginnings of a recovery. I know she manhandled Todd’s body easily, but we’re talking dozens of women. Takin’ that risk over and over doesn’t match with the intelligence of the twins.” Breathing deeply, Owen pushed off the tree and set his feet on the downward-angled trail. Launching into a jog and then picking up the pace, he asked, “Audio and visual okay?”

  “Yeap, we’re golden so far. I do like this better. I can hear your footsteps.”

  He grunted, grabbing a tree trunk to swing himself around a switchback corner of the trail without bleeding off too much momentum. It was a sheer drop from where he was, at least a football field to the bottom of the ravine, the slope of the mountain covered in squared-off boulders and forest.

  “Uh.” Alace’s alarmed vocalization cut off, and he grinned. She’d been doing that since she synced up with him. Never quite telling him to be careful, and not even reminding him it hadn’t been that long since he had fallen down a mountainside. But her reactions were nervous tells: each time the stream from his bodycam changed direction abruptly or he jumped down a steep slope, leaping multiple feet at a time, it was obviously killing her to be quiet.

  “In a hurry, remember?” Each syllable was its own tiny effort, and he decided to keep quiet unless speech was needed. Not that he expected to find anything except empty holes and bones. But on the off chance there could be someone to save, he’d do so much more than just bust his ass in a quick march.

  “You’re averaging twelve-minute miles, you’re going fast enough as it is. Don’t—” Alace sighed, the sound echoing through his head as if she were running right next to him. “Just be safe, okay?”

  She must have taken his grunt for a response, because she let the subject die away. One thing about Alace, she wasn’t afraid of silence, and neither was he, but he wanted to know one detail. Worth the effort, he decided, and took a quick drink to wet his mouth.

  “When are you due?”

  There was silence for so long he’d started to believe the com link had broken, which wasn’t a disaster but would put him out here entirely on his own. Nothing I haven’t handled before, he reminded himself. Then Alace answered him.

  “They count things in weeks, did you know that? The doctor who read the ultrasound said I was about sixteen weeks. That was a week ago, so I guess in five months? He wrote a date down, but Eric took control of the paperwork and I didn’t pay attention to that.” Her voice cracked, and he shortened his strides, listening closely. “I could have lost the baby. What you’re doing right now, I could have done that three months ago. Today it would cost me…” He heard a gulp and understood she’d swallowed back a sob. “…everything.”

  “Life changes.” Owen slowed, settling into a fast walking stride that would leave him enough air to carry on a conversation. “And we roll with it. That’s what you’re doing right now with me. You’re still right here figuring out how to roll with the changes. Not doing too shit a job, either. I’d say you’re a keeper.”

  “Flattery will get you new toys.” The fractured quality had fled from Alace’s voice, and he grinned to hear her sass back in full force. “You’re only a couple of miles from the first field. Why’d you slow down?”

  “Boss lady, we measure things in klicks, not miles. So that means I’ve got about three klicks to go before I enter the first target.” He took another drink and picked up the pace again. “For your information, I was going slower so I didn’t make you motion sick.”

  “Should I call it a landing zone instead of clearing, too? Klicks sounds stupid. Like training a dog. Klick, klick, what a good boy.”

  “Boss lady—” He huffed out a laugh and picked things up another notch. “—you can call it what you want, but my mind measures distance in klicks. You wanna see me as a dog, that’s cool, but make sure it’s a chill breed like mastiff. All guardy and stuff.”

  “Definitely not a mastiff. You’re all bark and no bite, so Chihuahua is out, too.” She was laughing now, and he liked hearing this less stressed version of her. “What are those military attack dogs? Malinois? Yeah, I can see you as a Malinois.”

  “Knock, knock.” He didn’t know if she’d play along, but he hoped she’d take the
bait.

  “Who’s there?” Boom. He liked knowing she was someone who could be silly sometimes. It would make it easier to work with her during the tense encounters.

  “Patsy.”

  She laughed through her nose but kept the game going by asking, “Patsy who?”

  “Pat zee dog on zee head, zee likes it.” She groaned, and he grinned. “I got a million of ’em.”

  “Well, keep ’em to yourself. That was terrible.”

  He’d covered half the distance to the clearing before she spoke again.

  “Owen?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Are we friends?” Static filled his ears and she muttered something unintelligible, then came through loud and clear again, leading him to believe she’d covered the mic on her end. “Never mind. Focus on the gig.”

  “Oh, I’m on point where the mission’s concerned. Do not worry your twisted little mind about that.” He shook his head, knowing she’d see the movement for what it was, a way of discrediting her attempt to derail his reaction to her question. “Where you’re concerned, things are a little muddier. Are we friends? I’d say yes, we are, but kinda fledgling friends. Like I enjoy working with you, but we’re both still holding back.”

  “I thought we were besties?”

  He scoffed at her attempt to defuse the intensity of his words. “You need to stop being so prickly, Alace.” He slowed when he saw the fallen tree he’d fixed as a marker in his mind. “I’m at the place where I need to turn off the trail. Bushwhacking coming up.”

  “I’m not prickly.”

  “Just saying that makes my point for me. You’re so prickly you could be a hedgehog.” He stepped over the deadfall and off the trail, paying close attention to the footing. Within a few strides he’d found the faint track he and Alace had followed that first day in the woods. “Maybe I’ll make that your new nickname.”

  “I don’t have nicknames.”

  “Oh, sure you do.” He settled back into the running pace. “Skyline Sweets is one. I picked that up when I looked into you before working our first gig. Your work in Chicago is legendary.” Ducking under a branch, he ran into a cobweb stretching the width of the trail. “Son of a bitch. Goddamn it.” He flailed around to clear the clinging web from his face and hair. “I hate that shit.”

  “Hey.”

  He grunted, still wiping at his face. “What?”

  “You didn’t hit any webs on the main trail, did you?”

  Owen straightened, his head coming up as he locked attention on what she was saying.

  “No, I did not. My car was the only one in the lot when I parked. I didn’t see any sign of anyone, and I’ve been cooking with gas on the main stretches of trail. You think I’ve been following someone? Someone with as much motivation as I have to get to the clearing fast?”

  “Maybe. It’d be more suspect if you were completely alone, I think. Still, something to watch out for. You’re—” She paused and he heard the clicking of keys in the background. “—about half a klick from the clearing now.”

  “I’ll keep my eyes peeled.” He bent over and found a stick, holding the wood balanced in a loose grip. “Did it hurt just now?”

  “Did what hurt?” Her tone was more relaxed than a moment ago, and he suspected she knew he was joking with her again.

  “You said klick instead of mile.”

  “Whatever. Shut it.” Quiet for a breath, then a soft, “Be careful, Owen.”

  “Totally besties.” His mutter made her laugh, as did the next cobweb he saw and twirled expertly with the end of the stick.

  “He can be taught.” Her chortle had him grinning. “Clearing in thirty seconds.”

  “See it through the trees.” He paused where he was and dropped to put a knee in the soft dirt of the track he’d been following. “It looks like it did when we left here. Nothing changed. No disruption to the pits we know hold bodies, and the cache looks to be undisturbed, too.”

  “Copy that. Do you want to look closer or move to the next field?”

  “I think heading to the next one is best. That’s the one that was active and is the most likely location for any new captives. The third field was as dead as this one, so while I’ll be covering that one, I don’t expect anything there. Plus there’s the fact the bitch burned shit.” He took another hard pull of water from the reservoir in his backpack. “I’m gonna run short on water. Can you look at the topo and see where the best place to filter some replacement agua would be?”

  “On it.” The keys clicking told him she was doing as advertised, and when the answer came just a moment later, he suspected she’d already been anticipating the request. “Due north, there’s an all-weather stream. I think the track you’re on will cross it. The main trail doesn’t. The water flow runs parallel until the stream dips under the rocks. So good news, this side trek wasn’t useless after all. You’d need to be where you are to make the best path to the stream.”

  “Yay.” He stood and oriented himself, then followed the track north, web stick poised and ready.

  A trek that had taken him hours when he did it previously passed much quicker, but the sun was still heading down behind the peaks to the west before he found himself on the approach to the second field. The haunting memory of traps snapping closed had him wary of staying on the track, so as he had before, he shifted several feet to the side and remained parallel to keep his bearings. Alace’s conversation had been brief and staccato in nature, one long period of silence broken by an extended chat she’d had with her husband. Faceless Eric no more. Owen had listened to their back and forth with a grin on his face.

  Just when he’d been about to remind Alace to let Eric know Owen could hear him, the man’s voice had come from close to the microphone. “Be well, Owen. We’re both rooting for you.”

  Be well. Not good luck, not anything offhand or throwaway. Owen grinned at the memory as he mentally approved of Alace’s selection in a partner. Not that my validation matters. Rustling leaves to the other side of the trail had him crouching, scanning the area.

  “What?” Alace clearly hadn’t heard it, and he made a note to tell her about the sound so they could determine if the level of environmental sounds was adequate.

  Then he saw what had caused the noise, a shape moving through the woods. Bipedal and tall, the figure flitted from tree to tree, heading from the clearing back towards the main path.

  “Oh my God.” He breathed out slowly. “Please be Bigfoot. Please. I could totally get behind discovering Bigfoot today.”

  “I see what you’re seeing.” Alace didn’t miss a beat, and her basic business tone made him grin even as he shook his head. “That’s no Sasquatch, Owen. That’s our killer.”

  “Bigfoot would be awesomer.” He shifted to keep track of the figure as it moved through the woods. “Just sayin’.”

  “What do you think? Continue on to the clearing, or follow the killer?”

  “How can you ignore the fact that this could indeed be Bigfoot?” He pushed to his feet as the woods grew lively around him once again, birds and small animals beginning their scurrying and calls. He hadn’t even realized how silent it must have been for him to hear the passage of the killer. “Clearing. I’m too close not to check it out first. It kills a little, though. He’s right there, and if Temple one or Temple two isn’t the killer, then we’re back to the fundamentals here with no knowledge about the target. We’ve got patterns and seasonality, but other than an apparent height that defies the female persuasion, nada else. Still, creepin’ up on the dude without knowing anything about him or what he might be packing seems a quick ticket to badsville, too.”

  “Okay. There’s not much I can do here other than watch.” The sigh he heard was filled with frustration, and Owen found himself commiserating with her.

  “You’re doing a lot, Alace.” He grabbed the branch and moved forwards warily, tapping the ground ahead every few steps. “Last time I was right here, not having someone at my back left me feelin
’ vulnerable. I didn’t like it. With you now?” He saw the open field ahead, trees thinning as he got closer. “The barrel is moved. It’s not gone like you saw on the satcom imagery, which means it disappeared, reappeared, and now it’s definitely moved. Shit.”

  Resuming his crouched position, he scanned the area.

  Alace chuckled. “Infra for the win. Stand and do a slow circle, let me ensure you don’t have a visitor trying to access the clearing.”

  “I didn’t know the new cam had infrared. That’s boss, boss.” He did as she asked, making his way round the tree he’d had at his back, giving the bodycam a clear view of the forest surrounding the clearing.

  “The barrel is hot. It’s clear on the infra that the base is significantly hotter than the ground around it.”

  Owen was moving before she finished talking, jogging across the field in a zigzag pattern to avoid depressions indicating underground holding pens.

  “Owen, remember the traps. We’ve only really mapped dead fields. Neither of us has seen what might be in place for an active victim.”

  He pulled to a stop a couple of feet away and stared at the ground around the barrel. Damaged grass stems surrounded the iron-bound bottom, and he could see a deep groove leading away to a spot where a circle of grasses and ground were depressed slightly, as if the barrel had been placed there and then rolled away. Moved from that position so recently the flora hadn’t yet recovered.

  “If there’s someone in the pit, any prepared countermeasures might be expected to silence the prisoner as well as take out whoever discovered them. Be careful, Owen.”

  “My instinct says the killer would not risk the captive doing injury to themselves. They like to watch too much, building their own version of the viewports used at the Temple house.” He’d shifted to subvocalization, once again appreciating the tech Alace had brought to the endeavor. Her acquisitions that were so casually mentioned…he wasn’t sure she knew how fantastic the things were. “I do not see anything of note surrounding the barrel blocking the wire you and I both know is underneath. I found no indication the killer boobytrapped the other pits I excavated. No pockets in the dirt. No left behind pieces of wire. I do not think our guy is so sophisticated.” One knee to the dirt and grass, he leaned forward and placed his hands on the edges of the half barrel. “Just another walk in the park.”