An Impostor in Town (Colorado Series)

by Denise Moncrief

  “I said shut up.” He raised his hand to strike her. She pressed against the passenger door. He missed and swore, flexing his fingers.

  “I think you’re lying. You’ve never been a good liar.”

  “Lying? About what?” Once again, he turned his attention from the road.

  “Cory isn’t here. If you’re trying to scare me, it’s not working.”

  “Oh, baby. That’s priceless. You’re scared. You’re plenty scared.” He cackled. “You’re scared of Cory.” She shoved him hard. The car swerved. “Stop that.” She shoved him again. He swung at her. “Stop that,” he yelled again.

  “Make me.”

  He grabbed her by her shirt. “I told you to shut up.”

  She relaxed, and he released his grip. Maybe she should gather her strength for a more opportune moment. Her wounds pestered her. She was sore all over. Dying would have been a relief, but she refused to give in without a fight. She wouldn’t go easy.

  Just outside of town, he turned off the highway and drove down a dirt track overgrown with weeds between the tire ruts. After a couple of miles, he drove her car into a stand of pines where another car was hidden. She fumbled with the door lock, but her actions had slowed and she wasn’t fast enough to make a break for it. He yanked her out of her car and punched her hard in the gut. She bent over double and then fell. Before he pulled her from the ground and pushed her into the new car, he rummaged in the trunk and then bound her wrists behind her back with duct tape. Apparently, he didn’t want her shoving him again. Back on the highway, he flew past Hermosa, heading into the mountains toward Purgatory and Durango Mountain Resort.

  Didn’t he say Cory was at the lift work site pretending to be Jeff? She couldn’t let Jeff get to the ski area. Adrenaline coursed through her veins. She braced her back on the door and kicked him hard with both feet. He lost his grip on the steering wheel and grabbed his side. The car veered toward the edge of the road. Below gushed a roaring creek. A long drop if the car tumbled over the side.

  He regained control and stopped on the shoulder, jumped from the vehicle, and yanked her out the door before she could react. She nearly fell to her knees.

  She used her weight to her advantage, making him drag her toward the woods along the road. “You’re just like your father. You take things, use them up, and then toss them aside. No wonder Carol ditched you. You probably couldn’t give her what she wanted. You’re a worthless piece of trash.”

  “You married a man old enough to be your grandfather. What does that make you? All you wanted was the old man’s money.”

  “His money? Are you crazy? No amount of money would ever be worth living with your family. You’re all sick.” She spat her contempt at him and his family. “I tried to kill myself because of him.”

  “Don’t ever call me crazy.” He spun her around and used a knife to slit the tape that bound her wrists, nicking her in the process.

  She rubbed the throbbing pain and turned toward him, never letting her eyes stray from his. “You won’t take me to Cory. He wants a piece of you as bad as he wants a piece of me. Go ahead. Take me to Cory. He’ll destroy you.”

  Her desperate taunt got his attention. He raised his fist. She threw up her hands to ward off another blow. “Please don’t do that! I’ll get the money somehow. I promise.”

  A vein pulsed in Jeff’s neck. He worked his jaw muscles. Maybe she had finally pushed him beyond his limited patience—beyond what his fractured ego could handle. His eyes leaked venom. Blow after blow landed on her neck, shoulders, and arms. “I want the money now!”

  She stumbled. Something hard bumped against her thigh. The gun. She had forgotten about it. Why hadn’t she pulled it on him sooner? Was it still in her coat? Of course, it was. She jammed her hand into her pocket and pulled out the weapon. “Get away from me.” Her voice was as shaky as her trigger finger.

  He laughed without mirth. “Give me the gun.” He wiggled his fingers and advanced a step closer.

  “Don’t come any closer.” She shook the gun at him. “Toss me your keys.”

  He stopped, keeping his eyes on the weapon and slung her taunt back at her. “Make me.”

  “I’m warning you.” Her voice quavered.

  His leg swung upward and knocked the gun from her grasp. It skittered across the pavement and disappeared into the brush along the road. She gasped and grabbed her injured wrist, horrified at losing her thin advantage.

  He laid the back of his hand across her mouth. She crumpled to the ground, and he fell on top of her. Her eyes focused on a large rock nearby. It was her last hope. She pushed him off with her last ounce of strength. The rock landed on his head with a loud crack. She lifted it again, but there was no point. Jeff wasn’t moving.

  She scrambled to stand and kicked him hard in the side. He groaned, but made no move to fight back. Tears poured from her eyes. Thank God, she hadn’t killed him. She didn’t want him to die. She just wanted him to leave her alone. She knelt and felt his pulse. It was still there, pounding from his exertions. The wind whipped her hair across her face. She pushed it back. She had to find his keys. She had to get out of there.

  She patted his pockets. The bile rose in her throat just from touching the man. His eyes blinked and he glared up at her. He apparently had an endless supply of malice. She pulled his keys from his pants pocket and stared at them in fascination. His keys represented freedom. With them she could run, just like she’d always done.

  Once inside the car, she jammed the key into the ignition, but the stubborn car wouldn’t start. She cranked the engine repeatedly, hearing the telltale whir of the starter. Finally the horrible moment was over and the motor revved to life. With one look backward she drove away.

  Oh God, what have I done? What have I done? Don’t let him die. Okay, okay. I can’t leave him like that. I’ll call Brian. No, I can’t call Brian. I’ll have to explain everything. I should call nine-one-one. I can say I found him like that. How will I explain why I’m covered in blood? No, I can’t do that either. I can’t leave him there to die. What do I do? I have to go back. I have to see if he’s still alive. This is insane. I can’t go back.

  She turned the car around. She couldn’t leave the man there. If she left him to die, she would be just as base as he was.

  ****

  Monday morning a hitchhiker discovered a body in the woods near Hermosa. There was very little evidence at the scene. The coroner was certain the body had been moved. So far Brian had nothing—not even a name for the man.

  Brian didn’t like unsolved mysteries in his jurisdiction. The case of Chris Smith had lain dormant for years. After her accident, she couldn’t remember who she was or where she came from. When Steve West arrived in Durango, he stirred things up. West was certain Chris was his long, lost wife. Brian wasn’t so sure.

  He rubbed his eyes and looked at the background information on Jeffery Corbin Osborne. Three documents lay on his desk. A copy of a birth certificate for Jeff Osborne, a marriage license for Osborne and Carol Stone, and Osborne’s mug shot from the Austin Municipal Police Department.

  He finally had an identity for the dead man. But if Jeff Osborne was deceased, who was working for West at the lift site? The man who worked for West used Osborne’s name, but who was he and how were the two men connected? What secret was West’s foreman hiding behind the alias?

  He still had the note he received months ago. There’s an impostor in town. A Concerned Citizen. Had he finally identified the impostor?

  He dropped into his desk chair and studied the photo of the dead man. Osborne and his impostor had the same sandy brown hair and gray eyes. Perhaps the foreman’s eyes were a shade darker. They had the same shaped nose and eye structure. The resemblance was close enough the two men could be brothers.

  The intercom buzzed. “What?”

  “There’s a man here to see you. He says he has information about the murdered man.”

  He sighed. Eyewitnesses were coming out of the woodwork a
nd rarely had anything to contribute. The overabundance of useless, time-consuming interviews always happened when the media sensationalized a murder. “Send him in.”

  The man entered his office and paused in the doorway. The stranger glanced around the room and finally turned his dark gaze toward Brian.

  “I’m Sheriff Parker.” He offered the man a seat with a wave of his hand and waited for him to open the conversation.

  “Name’s Austin Pierce. I have a ranch near Ouray.” Very concise. These rancher types were that way.

  Brian nodded his head. “My assistant tells me you have some information for me.”

  “My wife and I agreed I should tell you what I know.”

  An odd way to open the discussion. Was there a reason he had to discuss his plans with his wife beyond being an informative husband? “Go on.”

  “I know the man who was murdered. Name’s Jeff Corbin.” Pierce leaned forward in his chair with one forearm on his thigh. “He stayed on with me a little over a year and a half before I told him to leave.” He straightened and regarded Brian with a steely gaze.

  Brian rubbed his finger along his hairline right behind his ear where it always itched when something important was about to happen. “Why’d you let him go?”

  “He stole some of my cattle.”

  Yes. There it was. Pierce had real information for him. He’d take his time and draw the man out. Let him do the talking. He presented Pierce with a blank countenance. He already knew the dead man was Jeffrey Corbin Osborne. It wasn’t too hard a stretch to deduce that Jeff Corbin and Jeff Osborne were the same man. “Where’d he go when he left?”

  “I don’t know.” Pierce’s clipped response resounded with impatience. “About a year ago, my wife was in an accident. Ended up here at Mercy hospital. It was obvious Johanna and her nurse knew each other, so I asked her about the woman. Actually, I had to drag the story out of her. Johanna can be a bit stubborn.” Pierce shifted in his seat. “My wife has been raising the nurse’s son. I’m not sure why. She won’t tell me the woman’s secrets. I’m okay with that.”

  Why was the man defensive about someone else’s secrets?

  “This woman came out to the ranch to visit my wife. She was afraid Corbin would hurt her son. She wanted Johanna to leave with the boy, but I convinced her Jake was safe with us. My wife and I agreed…We thought you should know about the woman’s connection to Corbin. I don’t believe she would murder anyone, but if she did I wouldn’t want her around the boy.”

  He guessed what the rancher meant. Pierce’s wife didn’t want to get the woman in trouble, but she didn’t want the nurse to put the boy in jeopardy. “What’s her name?”

  “Peyton Chandler.”

  His stomach whirled in his gut. Until his ill-considered kiss, he hadn’t realized how much she meant to him. He stood. Pierce blinked and rose from his seat, a puzzled frown on his weathered face. He moved around his desk to push the man toward the door. He needed to follow up on this lead quickly for Peyton’s sake. “I’ll check into this. Thanks for coming in.”

  Pierce nodded his head and tossed a dark glance over his shoulder as he left.

  ****

  Brian walked through the emergency room doors with a heavy heart. As he approached the front desk, he saw the night-duty nurse busy with paperwork. Why was she working Peyton’s shift? He cleared his throat and she glanced up. He expected a smile, but didn’t receive one. “How are you, Stephanie?”

  “We’re short handed. I’ve pulled a double shift and I’m pooped out.”

  “Why are you short?”

  “I haven’t seen Peyton since the wedding Saturday night. She called in sick Sunday and I haven’t heard from her today. The nursing supervisor said she tried to call her yesterday and couldn’t get an answer.” Stephanie ignored the buzzing telephone. “I would have thought she’d be back to work by now. She never misses work.”

  He puffed his cheeks out in frustration. He wanted to see Peyton and get the interview over with. Part of him was anxious about what he might learn and the other part of him was apprehensive about how she would respond to him after their quarrel.

  The need to locate her pressed on him if for no other reason than he wanted to right things with her. Once he had let his suppressed longings out of the box he had them stuffed in, they had blossomed into full-fledged desire.

  His insides trembled. Something was wrong. He couldn’t get to her house fast enough and gave in to the temptation to use his flashers and siren. As he approached her driveway, he turned off the lights and noise. Her new car was parked in the driveway. He sighed with relief. That meant she was home. For some reason, he feared she had skipped town. But why would he even consider that possibility? Had she ever indicated she was thinking about leaving? No.

  What if something happened to her after he left her Saturday night? What if she was ill? What if she had attempted to do something to herself? What if… He couldn’t contemplate one more what if question. He ran to her front door, wishing with all his heart he had fixed things with her Saturday night instead of walking away.

  ****

  Peyton jumped at the knock on the door. She hobbled across the living room and peeked out the window. Her whole body shook when she glimpsed the urgency in Brian’s demeanor. Maybe she should pretend she wasn’t home. He banged on the door. The wood rattled from the impact. Twelve-year-old memories flooded her mind. Once upon a time, another man beat on her door. That scene hadn’t ended well. She pressed her hand to her head to suppress the unwanted vision, a nightmare she had avoided reliving for over twelve years.

  “Peyton, I know you’re there.”

  Her psyche bounced back to the present. “What do you want?” She rested her head against the wall.

  “Let me in. We need to talk.” His request wasn’t optional. The ring of authority pelted her from the other side of the door. Had he discovered her connection to Jeff? Had he found out about her past? She couldn’t face him. Not now. Not after she’d wanted his kiss and he had obliged.

  She suppressed a sob. “I have nothing to say to you.”

  “This isn’t about the other night. This is official.”

  Could he read her mind through solid oak? She opened the door and turned her head, but not fast enough. He grabbed her chin—his gaze riveting on her scratched and bruised cheek. She tore her face from his scrutiny and turned her back to him.

  “You want to tell me what happened?” It wasn’t a request.

  “No.” Her refusal was weak.

  “I think you’d better.” His voice was low and commanding. She pulled back from it. The time for telling was past. She’d waited too late.

  He grabbed her shoulder, and she flinched at his touch. “Please, don’t hurt me.”

  “I’m not going to hurt you. I won’t even touch you. Just look at me.” He backed off and raised both hands.

  He had to be here because he’d found out about Jeff. “I didn’t mean to do it. When I left him, he was alive. I promise. I never intended to hurt him.”

  He nudged her through the doorway and slammed the door behind him. The bang sent a shockwave through her. “What are you talking about?” His voice boomed in her ears, throbbed through her head.

  He knows what I’ve done. He hates me. He’ll never think of me the same again. It’s over.

  On the coffee table, the newspaper shouted the story of Jeff’s murder front and center. She pointed at the horrid retelling of her crime in black and white. “I’m the one you’re looking for. I killed that man.” She would go to jail—or worse—and the hiding would be over. The fear would be over. With her gone, maybe Jake would be safe. There was no reason to harm him if she was out of the picture. She shoved her hands at Brian, wrists up.

  His eyebrows drew together over his nose. “What are you doing?”

  “You need to arrest me, don’t you?”

  He pushed her hands down. “Sit down and let’s talk about this.” He dropped onto the sofa—the same
spot where he told her about the impostor note, the note that was about her. “What’s the man’s name?” She cringed. There was no warmth in his voice. He was all business—suddenly professional. And she was nothing more than a suspect.

  “Jeff Osborne.” Her flat answer seemed to come from somewhere outside herself.

  “How do you know him?”

  She didn’t want to answer that. The whole thing was so horrible. “He’s my stepson.” A hazy listlessness enveloped her. Her answer landed flat between them.

  “How can he be your stepson? He has to be at least five years older than you.” His sharp tone scored her heart.

  She shuddered at the thought of Jeff’s father. How Mason’s touch had left her cold. How his abuse pummeled her until she was weak. How he controlled her every move until she had no options left. How running away from him was such sweet release. “His father was a lot older than I was.”

  “All right, so you knew him. Tell me what happened.” Brian’s harsh command pulled her back to the present and the questions that would ruin the life she’d built in Durango.

  “He was here when I got home the other night. He grabbed me as soon as I got in the door.” The telling brought fresh tears to her eyes.

  “You mean when I dropped you off Saturday night?”

  She nodded—the answer stuck in her throat.

  The harshness melted from his face. “I should have come back. I almost did. I almost came back…if I had…maybe he wouldn’t…What happened after that?” His confession fell so soft and fractured on her ear she wondered if she’d heard the bits and pieces right.

  “He held his hand over my mouth until you drove away.” She wiped her hand across her snotty nose and rubbed the slime on the sleeve of her robe. It didn’t matter how crass she appeared. It would never matter again. “He was desperate. He wanted more money. He always wanted more…” The memories crashed upon her. She floated away on a sea of betrayal and despair. Wave after wave of remorse for what should have been done differently.

  “Why were you giving him money?”

  She blinked at him. The disconnect between her memories and the present was jarring. “He said he’d tell Mason where I was if I didn’t give him money. I can’t let Mason find Jake. And I can’t let Cory find him…and…and…Jeff was going to tell you all about me. He’s the one who sent the note.” The words tumbled out. She stood and wrapped her arms around her middle. The terry cloth bathrobe hung loose around her waist, so she cinched it tighter. “I’m the impostor.” She gazed straight into his eyes and waited for his verdict.