by Cassie Miles
“Every law enforcement official in the state of Colorado, especially the FBI.”
“Why? Give me the 4-1-1. What’s going on?”
His pause spoke volumes. Waxman was a by-the-book agent who followed orders and trusted the system. If he’d been given instructions to withhold info, it would go against his nature to disobey. At the same time, he was Cole’s handler, and it was his duty to protect his agent.
“Turn yourself in,” Waxman said, “and we’ll get this straightened out.”
Turn myself in? That sounded like he was wanted for committing a crime. “The last time I contacted anybody was after the casino robbery. Prescott told me to stick with the gang. What’s changed since then?”
Another pause. “Activate the damn GPS, Cole.”
While he was at it, maybe he ought to paint a bull’s-eye on his back. “Give me a reason.”
“Don’t play dumb with me. Three people are dead. And you’re on the run with two of the gang members. You’re considered to be armed and dangerous.”
That description justified the use of lethal force in making an arrest. Cole saw their chances of a peaceful surrender disappearing. “Two other gang members?”
“One male and one female.”
Somehow Rachel had been labeled as part of the gang. “You’ve got that wrong. The woman with me is—”
“Damn it, Cole. You kidnapped a baby.”
The worst kind of crime. Violence against children. Cole was in even more trouble than he’d imagined. “Here’s the true story. I’m close to identifying Baron, and he’s running this show. Don’t ask me how, but he’s got people inside the Denver FBI office.”
“A newborn infant.” Waxman’s voice rasped with anger. “You’re using a baby as a hostage.”
There would be no reasoning with him. Cole ended the call and turned off the phone, making sure the GPS wasn’t on.
Rachel stared at him. Her eyes filled with questions. He didn’t have the answers she’d want to hear.
RACHEL LISTENED WITH RISING DREAD as Cole recounted his conversation with Agent Waxman. They were the subjects of a manhunt? Considered to be dangerous? The FBI thought they had kidnapped Goldie?
“No,” she said firmly. “People around here know me. They’d know those accusations are wrong. As soon as they heard my name—”
“It’s not likely that they’ve identified you.”
“If they show my picture—”
“They won’t.”
In normal circumstances, she’d be missed at work. But this was her vacation; nobody would be looking for her. “The van,” she said. “When I don’t return the van to the clinic, the women I work with will know that something’s wrong. I can contact them and get this all cleared up.”
“Not a good idea.”
“Why not?”
His face was drawn. His eyes were serious. “You saw what those men did last night at the house. It’s best if we don’t get anyone else involved.”
“Are you saying that they’d go after my friends? My coworkers?”
“Not if they don’t know anything.”
She’d been cut off from anything resembling her normal life. The only person she could turn to was Cole, and she barely trusted him. “What’s going to happen to Goldie?”
“We need to get her to a safe place. If we can find a cabin with reliable people, we’ll leave her in their care.”
She peered through the trees at the surrounding hillsides, which were buried in drifts and veiled in light snowfall. “We can turn ourselves in at the same time.”
“It’s not safe for us to be in custody. Not until we know who’s working with Baron.”
Inside her parka, she felt Goldie shift positions. The most important thing was to get the baby to safety. “Grand Lake. We need to go to Grand Lake. Penny told me that her mother was staying there. We’ll take Goldie to her grandmother.”
Cole reached out with his gloved hand and patted her shoulder. “You’re a brave woman, Rachel. I’m sorry I got you into this mess.”
“As long as you get me out of it, I’ll be fine.” She nodded toward the path ahead of them. “Make tracks.”
She followed him, tramping through the snow on the path through the forest. The crampons on the snowshoes gave her stability, but the hike was exhausting. Though she couldn’t see the incline, she knew they were headed uphill because of the strain on her thighs. Still, she was glad for the physical exertion. If she slowed down, she’d have to face her fear.
As an EMT, she’d worked with cops. She knew what “armed and dangerous” meant. She and Cole wouldn’t have a chance to explain or defend themselves. The people looking for them would shoot first and ask questions later.
They approached a crossroads with open terrain on each side. The road was barely discernable under the mounds of snow, but a wooden street sign marked the corner.
Cole halted and squinted at the sign. “The road we’re on is Lodgepole. The other is Lake Vista. Ring any bells?”
“Please don’t ask me for directions.” Grand County was huge, nearly two thousand square miles. Her condo was in Granby, which was forty-five minutes away from here.
“I don’t know this territory. I’ve only been to Grand Lake five or six times.”
He looked over his shoulder at her. “It makes sense that the Lake Vista road will lead to water. We’d be more likely to find cabins at lakeside.”
“But the other road goes uphill,” she pointed out. “It offers a better vantage point.”
She tilted back her head, looked up and glimpsed a hint of blue through the pale gray clouds. Good news: the snowfall was ending. Bad news: they were more exposed to the people who were searching for them.
“Do you hear that?” Cole asked.
“What?”
He sidestepped deeper into the forest. “Get back here.”
Though she didn’t hear anything, she did as he said, remembering how he’d sensed the attack at the house before the shooting started. She shuffled forward, taking cover behind the trunk of the same tree he stood behind.
Cole shifted his feet in the snowshoes so he was facing her. Quickly, he shed the huge backpack from his shoulders and moved closer to her.
She heard the sound of a vehicle. They were coming.
A black SUV crested the hill above the crossroads and ploughed a trail through the snow that covered the road. There were no markings on the vehicle; it wasn’t a police car. She held her breath, waiting for them to pass.
The SUV drove past them, headed toward the cabin.
Cole took his cell phone from his pocket. Quickly, he dialed.
She heard his end of the conversation. “Waxman, this is Cole. There’s a wounded man in a cabin on Lodgepole Road. He’s tied down, helpless. The cabin isn’t far from the house where we stayed last night.”
He ended the call and put away his phone.
If the men in the SUV were the same shooters who attacked last night, Frank didn’t stand a chance. Last night, she’d patched him up. Today, he could be murdered.
When she looked up at Cole, she felt a tear slip from the corner of her eye. “I wish things were different.”
“There’s nothing we can do for Frank.” With his ungloved hand, he stroked her cheek and wiped away the tear. “They’re close, Rachel. They’ll be able to follow our tracks through the woods. We need to move fast.”
There was no time for regret or recrimination. All her energy focused on pushing forward. They stayed in the trees, avoiding the road, but the forest was beginning to thin. Many of these trees had been lost to the pine beetle epidemic. The bare branches looked like gnarled fingers clawing at the snowy mist.
Rounding a boulder, Cole stopped so suddenly that she almost ran into him. She peered around his shoulder and saw the frozen expanse of Shadow Mountain Lake. Untouched, white and spectacularly beautiful, it was covered with snow, and the drifts swirled like vanilla frosting on a cake. Heavy clouds prevented her from seeing all
the way to the opposite side.
“How wide is the lake?” Cole asked.
“It varies.”
“How far from the town?”
“At the north end, it’s only about a mile and a half farther to Grand Lake.”
“If we cross it, we’ve got no cover,” he said. “But we’re running out of path. As soon as they pick up our trail, they’ll know we’re following the road.”
She assumed the lake was frozen solid, but she didn’t know for sure. If they broke through the ice, it would be over for them. And for Goldie. She imagined the dark, frigid waters beneath the pristine surface—waters that could suck them down to a terrible death.
Cole made a turn-around on his snowshoes and looked down at her. His eyes were warm. “We can do this.”
“Or we could keep looking for a cabin.” Hiking through a blizzard was one thing. Walking on a frozen lake—even when it appeared to be solid—was a risk. “I’m not sure this is safe.”
“It’s our best chance, Rachel.”
He was right. She swallowed hard and nodded. “You go first.”
They climbed down the incline leading to the frozen lake. As Cole stepped onto the surface, his snowshoes sank three or four inches into the snow. She clenched her jaw and listened for the cracking sound of ice breaking.
He strode ten feet onto the lake, breaking a path for her to follow. He turned back toward her and held out his gloved hand. “It’s all going to be all right.”
“How do you know?”
“I’m taking a leap of faith.”
Cautiously, she stepped onto the lake. The snow sank beneath her snowshoes, and she caught her breath. Was it solid? Would it hold?
Cole caught hold of her gloved hand and squeezed. “Stay close.”
“Do I have a choice?”
Lowering her head, she concentrated on putting her shoes in his tracks. One foot after the other, she followed. With every step, she prayed that the ice would hold.
For what seemed like an eternity, they made their way forward. Without the shelter of the forest, the fierce wind bit the exposed skin on her face. Inside her parka, she was warm. Goldie was protected by her body heat.
“I can see the other side,” Cole said.
Looking back over her shoulder, she saw the long trail they’d left in the snow. The point where they’d started was barely visible through the snowy mist.
She saw something else.
A volley of gunfire exploded behind them.
Chapter Ten
The shooters had found them. The bursts from their semi-automatics boomed across the frozen landscape. Cole estimated they were over four hundred yards away on the other side of the lake—out of range unless they had a sniper rifle with a high-tech scope. Even with a more accurate weapon, their visibility would be hampered by the icy mist.
As he watched, the SUV lurched off the road. They were driving onto the lake.
He drew his handgun, ready to make a stand even though he was outmatched in terms of men and firepower. “Rachel, keep going.”
“I can’t leave you here.”
“You need to get Goldie away from here.”
Her internal struggle showed in her eyes. She didn’t want to desert him, but the SUV was coming closer. The baby’s safety came first.
“Don’t die,” she said. “I wouldn’t be able to stand it if you—”
“Just go.”
In her snowshoes, she rushed forward. The shoreline was so damned close. She had to make it into the forest. The bare limbs of trees reached toward her with the promise of shelter.
He looked back toward the SUV. They were coming closer, but their forward progress was slow. The heavy vehicle sank down into the new snow. The drifts piled up higher than the hubcaps.
One of the gunmen leaned out a window and fired off another round—a sloppy tactic typical of a drive-by shooter who figured if he sprayed enough bullets he’d eventually hit something. These guys weren’t trained to attack in open terrain, and they sure as hell weren’t FBI.
These were Baron’s men. Lethal. Bent on murder.
Cole shrugged off his huge backpack and dropped it onto the snow in front of him. The canvas pack and lightweight aluminum frame wasn’t enough to stop a bullet, but it was something. Not taking off his snowshoes, he ducked behind the pack and waited. When they got closer, he’d aim for the windshield on the driver’s side. If he could take out the man behind the wheel, he might slow them down long enough to make his escape.
The engine of the SUV whined as the tires failed to gain traction on the ice. Snow had accumulated in front of the SUV. The driver had to back up in his own tracks and push forward again.
From the trees, Rachel called to him. “I made it.”
“Go deeper into the forest.”
“Not without you.”
The SUV jerked forward and back. The wheels were stuck. Two men emerged from the vehicle and staggered through knee-deep snow to the front bumper, where they started digging.
The weight of the SUV had to be close to two tons. Heavy enough to break through the ice? That was too much good luck to hope for.
For now, he should take advantage of the situation. They were distracted by being stuck. He might have enough time to make his escape before they started shooting again.
He slung the pack onto his shoulders, grabbed his ski poles and rushed along the trail Rachel had made through the snow. He reached the forest. Gunfire erupted. Cole dodged behind a boulder, where she stood waiting.
Breathing hard, he rested his back against the hard granite surface.
“We’re good,” Rachel said. “Even if they get themselves dug out, there’s no access to a road on this side.”
The muscles of his face tightened as he grinned. They just might make it to safety. “We got lucky.”
“It’s more than that.”
“Yeah, those guys are idiots.”
“And we were prepared,” she said. “After all your complaining, I’ll bet you’re glad you have those snowshoes.”
“Hell, yes. I’m thinking of having them permanently attached to my feet.”
“You might be a real mountain man, after all.”
Another wild blast of gunfire reminded him that they needed to keep moving. Even idiots were dangerous when well-armed. He shoved away from the rock. “When we get to the town, do you know how to find Penny’s mother?”
“I do, indeed.”
Until now, Rachel had been hesitant about giving directions. “What makes you so certain?”
“Penny called her mom after the baby was born and got the address, which she repeated several times.”
“Why didn’t she know her own mother’s address?”
“Her mom doesn’t actually live in Grand Lake. She’s house-sitting for a friend who has a business in town. The house is around the corner from her friend’s shop on the main street.”
They’d be marching through the center of town. With every law enforcement officer in the state of Colorado looking for them, this might be tricky. “What kind of shop?”
“One that’s closed in the winter,” she said. “An ice cream parlor.”
THEIR TREK INTO GRAND LAKE went faster than Rachel expected. It was still early, and the locals were just beginning to deal with the aftermath of last night’s blizzard. A few were out with shovels. Others cleared their driveways and sidewalks with snowblowers. None of them paid much attention as she and Cole hiked along the road in their snowshoes.
The main tourist area was a rustic, Old West boardwalk with storefronts on either side. She spotted Lily Belle’s Soda Fountain and Ice Cream Shop with a neatly lettered sign in the window: Closed for the Season.
In minutes they’d be at the house where Penny’s mom was staying. Rachel was glad to be dropping Goldie off with someone who would care for her, but she wasn’t looking forward to telling Penny’s mom what had happened.
A young man with a snowblower finished clearing the sidewalk lea
ding up to a two-story, cedar frame house. He turned toward them and waved. She waved back and yelled over the noisy machine. “Does Pearl Richards live here?”
He nodded and continued along the sidewalk to dig out the next house on the street.
Cole gave her a glance. “Penny’s mother is named Pearl?”
“Pearl, Penny and Goldie,” she said. “I guess they’re all material girls.”
Standing on the porch, they took off their snowshoes and knocked. A woman with curly blond hair pulled back in a ponytail opened the door a crack and peeked out. “Do I know you?”
“Penny gave me your address,” Rachel said.
She pulled the door open, revealing a brightly colored patchwork jacket over jeans and a turtleneck. Though it was early, Pearl was fully dressed and wearing hiking boots as though she was prepared for action.
Pearl stepped back into the dim recesses of an old-fashioned looking parlor with drawn velvet curtains, an Oriental rug and an uncomfortable looking Victorian sofa with matching chaise. Pearl went to a claw-footed coffee table and picked up her revolver. Like Penny, she was a small, slight woman who needed both hands to aim her weapon.
Rachel should have been alarmed, but this greeting was so similar to the way she’d met Penny that she almost laughed out loud. Apparently, the women in this family routinely said hello with a gun.
“Close the door,” Pearl said. “Young man, take off that backpack and that ridiculous leather jacket. You’re dripping all over the floor.”
As Cole removed his jacket, he said, “I’m armed.”
“I expected as much.” Pearl leveled her gun at the center of his chest. “Using your thumb and forefinger, place your weapon on the floor and step away from it.”
Though Rachel suspected that this wasn’t the first time Pearl had confronted an armed man, she still wasn’t afraid. Either she was growing accustomed to having her life threatened or she sensed a basic goodness in this curly-haired woman who didn’t look like she was much older than thirty.
“Both of you,” Pearl said, “come through here to the kitchen. No sudden moves.”