But he had no idea whether the director would help him now or not.
“Over here.” Tate pulled her around the corner and glanced back. Sure enough, a bus was headed toward them. Tate gave Liberty his coat to cover her wound and thanked God for perfect timing as they hopped on board. After riding the bus farther north than they needed to go, Tate and Liberty backtracked and then rode another bus three miles east. It was a risk, considering anyone on the bus could recognize them or see Liberty’s wound and try to get her help, but he just kept praying.
Faith was all that had held him together this past year. If it hadn’t been for God, he probably would have spiraled much like Braden. He’d tried to talk to his brother about the Lord, but Braden hadn’t wanted to hear about it. His brother was stubborn, kind of like Tate. And though he’d continually asked God why Liberty had done what she had, he still didn’t have an answer. He was still waiting.
And now she was here. Because God had sent her, so he could finally understand? Or was it so Liberty could gain something she needed? Perhaps it was so they could find these missing people. He didn’t figure it was so he could go to prison. God didn’t allow bad things into people’s lives for no reason. He allowed them so people would cling all the more tightly to Him, to persevere and have a faith growing in strength all the time.
When they finally arrived back at the trailer, Tate unlocked the door and made sure he scanned the area for anything amiss. He held his gun ready and had Liberty open the door with her good hand. When he’d checked every spot someone could hide in, he said, “It’s clear.”
Liberty climbed the stairs like she was going to fall over. He led her to a chair and found the first-aid kit, then cleaned her up as best he could using Dane’s admittedly extensive first-aid kit.
He didn’t want to say it, but he had to. “Maybe you should have gone with that agent.”
“You wanted me to leave you by yourself?”
Tate shrugged.
* * *
If Liberty had any strength, she’d have hit him. Seriously? The man had wanted to ditch her at every turn so far. He’d been trying to pass her off to other people again and again.
“Sorry I’m such a burden to you that you’re still forced to try to find ways to get rid of me,” she said. “Maybe you should have just left me on the bus. Or at the coffee shop. Or at Dane’s house. Maybe you should have let those Russians kill me. Then I wouldn’t be bothering you so much.”
Tears rolled down her face, but she didn’t make any move to swipe them away. He needed to know she hurt as much as he did, and she wasn’t just talking about her shoulder.
Tate touched the sides of her face. Liberty couldn’t handle it, so she shut her eyes. His thumbs wiped her tears away as she struggled for breath. “I’m only crying because my shoulder hurts.”
“I’ll get you some painkillers.” Tate didn’t let go of her. “Open your eyes, Lib.”
When she did, he swam before her in the blur of her tears. “What?” He was probably going to tell her the real plan now, the one where he ditched her. She didn’t want to hear it, so she said, “I came here to help you. I came here because I didn’t believe you could do what they thought you’d done. But I haven’t helped. Things are worse than they were.”
“Not because of you.”
“You probably would’ve been totally fine without me.”
“Yeah, it’s been working so well the past year.”
Liberty sniffed. “What do you mean?”
“Probably about as well as your life has been working without me.”
She frowned. “What does that mean? We should be out looking for the plane, and finding out what the Russians are up to.”
Tate leaned closer to her. “Tell me your life is better without me, Liberty.”
She opened her mouth but couldn’t say anything. There was nothing to say that wouldn’t be a lie.
“That’s what I thought.”
“Tate—”
He touched his mouth to hers, and all the feelings between them rushed back in one giant wave. Liberty’s head spun. She lifted her hands to his shoulders just to prove to herself this was really happening.
Pain tore through her and she broke from the kiss, crying out.
“I’m sorry.” He moved away.
Why was he sorry? It’d been the best kiss of her life.
But all Liberty could do was hold her now-bandaged shoulder and try not to cry like a baby. Too late.
Tate knelt in front of her as she sobbed. He handed her painkillers from Dane’s first-aid kit and a plastic cup of water, which she managed to choke down while she fell apart.
“I should let you rest. I’ll come back later with some food after you’ve had a nap.”
Liberty shook her head, even as she leaned back in the chair. “Don’t go.” She wanted to cling to him, though she had no right to do so anymore.
“What is it?” His face was close again.
“It feels like you won’t come back if you leave. Like I’ll never see you again.”
“Not going to happen, Lib.” Tate touched her face again, this time with just one hand. “I’m right here. I’ve always been right here.”
Liberty shook her head. “I won’t be. I have to go, so you can have your family.”
“Braden hates me. I don’t have a family, Lib. I only have you.”
“We have to keep working this case.” Otherwise she was going to say something she would regret. She tried to push out of the chair, but he didn’t let her get far.
“Stay. I’ll be back soon.”
“Tate—”
“You need to trust me, Lib. Trust I’ll come back.”
She heard the door shut, and things got fuzzy. Before long he was touching her face again.
Liberty blinked. “Did you find them?”
“I don’t know what you mean, but I found something.” He didn’t look happy. Not even when he handed her a mug of coffee and sat to sip his own. “Drink up. We need to move. The longer we stay here, the likelier it is that we’ll be found.”
Liberty nodded. The clock over the oven blinked noon, even though it was still morning. “How long were you gone?”
“Maybe half an hour. I went to Braden’s apartment, and I’m glad I did.” He held up what looked like a checkbook. “He has access to personal accounts belonging to Mountain Freedom Credit Union’s bank manager.”
“Check fraud?” The fog receded. She could feel the wound in her shoulder, but not as bad as it had been.
“I want to go ask the man and find out.” Tate checked his watch. “It’s Saturday, so the bank closes earlier today—in half an hour. I’ll make us sandwiches, and we can catch him before he leaves for the day.”
Liberty nodded and rested her eyes for another minute before drinking two more cups of coffee Tate made her from a jar of instant coffee and a kettle on the tiny gas stove. The sandwich wasn’t her favorite but she didn’t complain.
“Okay, I’m good.” She started to get up.
Tate waved her back to sitting. “Give it five more minutes.”
Liberty nodded. She remembered Tate’s reaction to her being shot. Touching her face. That kiss. She’d drifted off thinking about it, thinking how it was the best kiss they’d ever shared, and it had taken breaking up and being apart for a year for her to have that.
What is going on, God?
This was supposed to be for the best. Maybe God was testing her resolve, forcing her to be certain she’d made the right decision in giving him up. Or perhaps Tate was temptation—which wasn’t completely untrue, since the man made her mouth water even with the mountain man beard—and she needed to flee.
Liberty didn’t know what the right answer was. She’d been at odds with God for the last year, and it s
eemed weird to run back to Him now. All she knew was that in the heat of the moment she’d chosen Tate, not Alana and the Secret Service. Was this her answer?
Liberty didn’t talk the entire drive to the credit union. She didn’t even ask how he’d gotten Dane’s truck back. How this trip would help find the plane, she didn’t know, but she was willing to find out. When it was over, she was going to be the one to walk away. It was for the best.
“Want to wait here?”
Liberty shook her head and walked with Tate to the bank’s front door. She wore a clean shirt that belonged to Dane’s wife, which she’d been able to pull over her bandage and button up. Still, she didn’t look good, and she wasn’t fooling anyone. They were going to think Tate was mistreating her.
Inside, the bank was empty.
“Hello?” Tate called out. “Anyone here?”
Liberty turned in a circle. Lights on, front door unlocked. Someone should be behind the counter. Probably more than one person, actually.
“The sign is flipped to closed, which is weird.”
She nodded but didn’t look at him. Liberty walked to a row of offices and peered around a half wall.
“Hours on the door indicate they closed a while ago.”
Liberty froze. “Uh, Tate?”
The nameplate said Gerald Turing, and she’d have been pleased to meet him even given the circumstances.
Too bad he was dead.
TEN
Since no one started yelling at them for being in the bank after hours, Tate kept looking around. “What, Lib?”
He couldn’t believe he’d actually kissed Liberty. Apparently he’d checked his brain at the door of the camp trailer when he’d gone inside. But she’d been hurt, and she was so valiantly braving her way through the pain. When he’d realized she was a little loopy from it, Tate had left her to rest.
If the Secret Service or FBI had found her there, she’d have been able to answer their questions. Or simply tell them he’d coerced her into going with him to the mine. He’d have had “kidnapping of a federal agent” added to the list of charges they wanted to slap him with. It wouldn’t have added but a few years onto his sentence if they were successful.
If Tate couldn’t prove their entire assumption about his involvement was wrong.
And now he was almost sure Braden was involved. He couldn’t prove much past the smarm on his brother’s face, or the look in his eye, but Tate wouldn’t put it past him. Ever since Braden had tried out for football and not made the team Tate had been the star of in high school, things had gone downhill. Their parents’ deaths had only been part of it; he knew as much from what his brother had said. Braden had always looked up to him, but somewhere along the line, wanting to be like his big brother had twisted into this vengeance.
Braden’s apartment hadn’t been anything but a sad reminder of the life of an addict. Despite the fact that Tate had managed to find a checkbook from the bank manager’s personal account, there hadn’t been much else. No family photos, or reminders of their parents. Nothing more than a few DVDs, grimy furniture and a kitchen that desperately needed cleaning.
Tate sighed and continued his sweep of the main area of the bank, then behind the counter where the tellers sat. No one was here.
“Tate?”
He almost didn’t look at her, as he knew exactly what he’d see. Pale face, tired eyes. Lines around her mouth to indicate how much pain she was in. He probably shouldn’t have brought her here, but he just hadn’t been able to bear the idea of doing this alone. As much as Liberty had hurt him, it was clear those feelings hadn’t died. Would they ever? Maybe the two of them were tied together.
Still, it didn’t change the fact that their relationship hadn’t worked. Liberty had broken it off because Tate just wasn’t the kind of man she’d been able to see herself with long-term. An answer he’d be given by any woman, not just her. Tate wasn’t “future” material, or he’d be married with a family by now. And their lives were even less compatible these days. They lived in different parts of the country, which meant it would be even harder to have a relationship.
If he was even looking for one.
“Tate.” She sounded aggravated now.
He spun around, lifted his arms. “What?” Liberty’s gun hung loose in her good hand. She could probably still shoot straight. She’d always been an excellent shot. But he’d been doing a lousy job of protecting her. “What is it?”
“The bank manager.” She stood by the open office door in the corner. “I found him.”
Tate strode to her. “I can talk to him. You wait in the truck—you look like you’re dead on your feet, Lib.”
She looked like she was going to be sick. “Dead?” She also looked like she was going to slap him.
“You know what I mean.” He touched her shoulders, not worrying about whether the bank manager could hear them. He needed to say this. “I don’t want you to get hurt.” Although that didn’t make sense because she was hurt. “It’s more than that,” he continued. “All this is my problem, and it’s sweet you came here.” Now he knew she’d done it because she cared about what happened to him enough to brave his ire over her actions. He lived every day like his life was in ruins. Like the aftermath of a great explosion, leaving devastation in its wake.
Tate moved his hand from her shoulder to her neck, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath his fingertips. He needed to feel it, because Liberty was real. Maybe the only real thing in his life.
Which was why he had to do this.
Liberty’s gaze searched his, her brow furrowed.
“You should go back to the Secret Service.” When she started to argue, he said, “I don’t want you in the line of fire anymore. Not when I know Braden doesn’t care at all about what happens to me. This is serious business, and you should make sure you’re good to go home and get back to your job. Your life is important and so is your job.” He took a breath. “Because I care about you too much to let you stay here with me.”
He moved closer to touch his mouth to hers in one last goodbye. It would probably be a source of pain later, but Tate didn’t care. He needed the memory of her sweetness to accompany all the anguish.
Liberty’s breath touched his lips. “The bank manager is dead.”
Tate halted, his mouth almost on hers. He looked over her shoulder into the office. The bank manager—at least, he assumed the suited man in the chair was him—had a distinct wound under his chin. His hand hung down by his side and a pistol lay on the carpet, as though it had fallen there.
“Oh.” His brain struggled to switch from what he’d been thinking about—Liberty—to the dead man. He moved her aside and stepped into the tiny office.
“Don’t touch anything.”
Tate turned back, one eyebrow raised. He hadn’t forgotten that much. Deputy sheriffs of small Montana counties didn’t investigate suspicious deaths often, but he’d done the training.
“They can’t pin this on you as well if you haven’t left any evidence you were ever in the room.”
She had a good point. Tate stepped back. “How about you go in while I call Dane?”
Relief washed over her face. As she moved past him, Liberty touched his elbow. “Thank you for what you said, and for caring about me.” She was quiet for a second, and he gave her the space to think through the pain to figure out what she wanted to say. “I’m not leaving you. I’ve come this far, and I’m not a quitter.”
She went into the bank manager’s office while Tate stared at the back of her head. She had quit. She’d quit on them when she gave up their relationship...and for what? Certainly not anything better for either of them.
* * *
Tate’s words rang in her ears as she moved toward the dead man. Liberty understood why he’d told her it was okay to go, but at every
turn so far it had seemed like he wanted to get rid of her and then brought her anyway. She was getting sick of his back-and-forth. Or she would be if it wasn’t for the fact that he now seemed to want to kiss her to accompany his goodbye. Liberty would have rather had kisses that meant they were staying together, but she had to face the truth—this was all she would get.
Gerald Turing, branch manager of Mountain Freedom Credit Union, had been killed at close range. A gunshot from farther away wouldn’t have left a burn mark on the skin under his chin. Classic suicide, shooting oneself in the head. Liberty didn’t want to assume it wasn’t murder since that was always a possibility until it was ruled out. Still, at face value, suicide seemed the most likely cause of death.
The man was older. He wore a nice suit, a string tie and a huge belt buckle with an elk on it. He was clearly no stranger to mashed potatoes and pancakes. His mustache looked to have been gelled, and his cowboy boots had been shined.
“Yeah, Dane,” Tate said into his phone.
Liberty glanced at the man who had once been her partner in everything. He frowned, his gaze found hers and he mouthed, They’re listening. How he knew from less than a minute of conversation was interesting. Was the Secret Service going to trace the call? It had been less than a day, but Liberty had expected them to descend en masse at any point, and yet they hadn’t. Tate was their prime suspect. Why hadn’t he been caught and brought in for questioning yet?
Tate paced the credit union lobby and explained to Dane how they’d found the bank manager dead in his office.
They wouldn’t need to trace the call now. Liberty continued her observation of the body, wondering exactly how many minutes she had until the feds and sheriff’s department showed up here with their guns drawn.
Likely not long at all.
The computer screen was dark. Liberty used her sleeve to wiggle the mouse, and the display woke up. Gerald’s email was open, a message on-screen in huge letters. It was written in a weird font that looked like a fourth-grade girl’s handwriting.
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