Anne Marie Duquette

by She Caught the Sheriff

  What she heard told her they were both still here. Sound carried easily in the caves and over the water. She listened.

  “LET GO! Wyatt, you’re hurting me!” It was Kimberly.

  “I intend to keep on hurting you. I intend to enjoy hurting you. Until you’re as dead as Caro is.”

  Wyatt’s answer chilled Caro even more than the water had. She gasped and tried to sit up but started to slip off the narrow ledge. She lay back down. She knew if she fell off she wouldn’t be able to pull herself back.

  “But Wyatt… you said—”

  “I lied. Just like you lied. How does it feel to be lied to, Kimberly?”

  “Please give me back my gun, Wyatt.” Kimberly’s voice was tinged with just the barest edge of nervousness. “And let go of my arm.”

  “I’ll let you go when you’re dead. You almost killed Morgan. You would have if I hadn’t found him.”

  Morgan’s alive? Caro thought.

  “Morgan’s alive?” Kimberly’s voice wasn’t so calm this time.

  “Oh, yes. My brother had a sick, grotesque story to tell, Kimberly. You tried to kill him and you killed Caro. Didn’t you?”

  “But only in self-defense! Both times, I was fighting for my life!”

  Oh, please, lady, give it up! Caro thought. The man’s not stupid. I’m the stupid one for not trusting him. If I had, we’d all be home free.

  And then, in horror, she heard the unmistakable click of a gun’s hammer being pulled back. Caro was experienced with firearms; she knew that only in old Westerns on latenight TV did someone pull the hammer back on a gun. Hammers were sensitive, too sensitive to cock. And squeezing the trigger was much quicker than thumbing the hammer. Pulling the hammer back was done for Hollywood effect. Real-life shooters never cocked the trigger unless they were crazy.

  Suddenly she understood. Wyatt was crazy! Her supposed death at Kimberly’s hands had driven him over the edge. The predator Caro had sensed inside him was out in full play.

  He was a good man who was fighting a battle with his worst self—and losing!

  “No, Wyatt, don’t! I’m alive!” She tried to shout, but her shivering body and stiff vocal cords weren’t working. She heard only air, not sound, emerge from her lips.

  “You’re dead meat, Kimberly. Vulture food.” The voice was harsh. Cold. Emotionless. Unrecognizable as Wyatt Bodine’s.

  Caro shivered again, this time with fear.

  “Wyatt!” Kimberly begged. “Please… you can’t be serious.”

  “I’m very serious. Let the punishment fit the crime. The only question is how. Do I push you—or shoot you?”

  No, Wyatt! Don’t do it!

  “Wyatt, please don’t do it!” Kimberly cried. “You can’t kill me. I did it for you, sweetheart! For us!”

  “You did it for yourself. For the gold. For the power. For the easy way out. But it ends here—and now. You’re taking the easiest way out of all, sweetheart. The big D. And I’m here to help you along.”

  Caro tried to scream Wyatt’s name, willing her voice to work. She couldn’t. But Kimberly could and did. Her scream ended abruptly—

  Cut off when he pressed the cold barrel of the gun against her temple.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  WYATT STARED at the gun in his hand. He stared at the woman in front of him. As he prepared to thumb back the hammer one more time, to pull it past the release point, where it would slam down and strike the firing pin, Kimberly smiled.

  She actually smiled! It was so unexpected, so bizarre, that he stopped in midmotion.

  “You know something, Wyatt? We’re more alike that I thought.”

  “We’re nothing alike! Nothing!”

  His words echoed off the walls. Kimberly laughed, her laughter echoing with his words.

  “Oh, dearest, of course we are. You want the gold all for yourself. You don’t feel like sharing. I can understand that. I can even admire you for it. No wonder your Caro won’t give you the time of day.”

  “You killed her!”

  “Like you’re going to kill me. We’re two of a kind, you and I. Two of a kind.” She laid her hand on his cheek—the same hand that had killed the woman he loved. “Only, at least I’m honest about it.”

  Two of a kind? Are we really two of a kind? Is Caro dead because she couldn’t trust me? God in heaven, is Kimberly right?

  The thought made him even sicker inside, something he’d have sworn was impossible.

  “It’s not too late to change your mind, Wyatt. All that gold just waiting for us. No Morgan or Caro to interfere. We could have a lot of fun, you and me. What do you say?”

  “I’d rather see you dead.” He pressed the gun barrel even harder against her temple, so hard the metal made a circular imprint on her skin.

  To Wyatt’s amazement, Kimberly didn’t resist. She didn’t even act surprised. “Oh, well, I tried. It’s not much consolation, but it’s something.” She gave him one last smile. “See you in hell, lover.”

  She lifted her chin and waited for the end. Wyatt tried to pull the trigger, but Caro Hartlan’s face appeared in his mind. She’s the woman I wanted to be worthy of, the woman whose opinion, whose heart and soul, matters more than my own.

  But that woman was gone. Dead. What value could his love hold now if he went against her commitment to life? A commitment he himself shared. Dared he dishonor the purest emotion he’d ever experienced? Was the love he felt for her truer than his rage, his grief, his desire for revenge?

  Drawing on strength deep within, a strength he’d never tapped before, he fought the dark side of him with blind fury.

  And this time, this time, he had it tamed. Wyatt Bodine triumphantly realized he would always be evil’s master.

  There was no way he would let himself become the kind of man Caro Hartlan would despise. Not even to kill her murderer. He’d saved more than just the pureness of his love for Caro Hartlan. He’d saved himself. If only I’d been able to save her, as well.

  He lifted the gun from Kimberly’s head, pointed it down toward the ground and slowly, delicately, uncocked the hammer and let it rest flush against the metal. Hot tears burned down his face as he took a deep breath and once again became the man he would always be. A man of the law.

  “Ms. Kimberly Ellis, I’m placing you under arrest for the murder of Dr. Caro Hartlan. I also charge you with two counts of kidnapping—one of Caro Hartlan, the other of Morgan Bodine.” The words hurt his throat, but he managed to deliver them in as professional manner as possible. “And the attempted murder of Morgan Bodine.”

  Kimberly gasped; ‘Wyatt ignored her. “I must warn you—you have the right to remain silent. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you—”

  “And we downtrodden taxpayers will be robbed again.”

  It was Wyatt’s turn to gasp. The faint, tremulous voice belonged to Caro Hartlan. She hung over the edge of the limestone sink, only her shivering wet head and arms visible. She was alive! Alive!

  “Someone want to give me a hand up, please?” Caro asked weakly. “Or do I have to hang around all day listening to the Miranda statement?”

  “Caro! Caro, you’re—”

  “—going to fall back in the water in about two seconds,” she finished for him, gasping. “Now cuff the prisoner and get your slow but adorable sheriff’s butt over here. I need rescuing, lawman! Or do I have to crawl to the nearest phone and dial 911?”

  Wyatt dropped his flashlight in shock. His grief turned to joy, then to triumph. He hadn’t failed Caro! But that moment of stunned bliss was all Kimberly needed. She whirled and broke away, leaving him at a dead run.

  He couldn’t—wouldn’t—follow her. Not with Caro nearby and in such need. He raced over to her, yanking her free of the lime sinkhole, clasping her in his arms, pressing her hard against his heart. He felt his body’s warmth become hers, her heart’s warmth become his. For the first time in his life the words he spoke were wild, crazy
, passionate, even incoherent—but the emotion behind them rang true, as did the love he heard between the lines of Caro’s glib, irreverent response.

  “So, are you glad to see me? Or just happy you don’t have to fill out more paperwork?”

  “Both, lady. Both.” Despite the fleeing Kimberly, despite Caro’s obvious physical discomfort, he kissed her. Then he kissed her again. He couldn’t help it. Neither could she. Her icy hands were on his cheeks, her dripping hair snagged on his buttons as she nestled against his chest, her cheek over his embroidered sheriff’s badge. Below, Wyatt’s fallen flashlight illuminated her wet stocking feet below wet bare legs.

  “Where are your clothes?” he asked. “You’re just wearing… wearing…”

  “They’re called panties, you idiot, and I think you have a lingerie fetish, after all. What did you expect me to do, swim in my jeans and shoes?”

  “No, but…” Are you cold? he was going to ask, but Caro interrupted him.

  “Skip it, would you? Don’t we have to get Morgan to a doctor?” Her question brought everything back into sharp focus.

  “You heard us talking?”

  “Yes.”

  Wyatt’s heart stopped. “How much did you hear?”

  “Every single word.”

  He closed his eyes. Wyatt Bodine, afraid of nothing, was afraid now. Then he slowly said, “I make no excuses for what I nearly did to Kimberly. I know I was wrong.”

  Caro sighed. “Well, I was really hoping I’d get to go to Kimberly’s funeral, but I suppose you had to let her live.”

  Wyatt stared. He couldn’t believe her words, couldn’t believe she’d heard all the ugliness inside him—and could forgive him. His voice was hoarse. “You don’t mind?”

  “I can’t say I approve of your letting her escape just to steal a kiss from me. Still, I suppose I’ll have to get used to all that Bodine testosterone sooner or later.”

  He could barely see the smile she gave him in the darkness of the cave, but he could feel its warmth and love all the way through to his soul.

  “Sorry about that.” Wyatt held her gently and touched her dripping shirt. “I’ll try to keep my raging hormones under wraps.”

  “Don’t you dare, Wyatt!”

  He grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I’m so happy Morgan’s alive. So happy you found me.” Her voice trailed off into another spell of shivering. “So glad I can trust you.”

  “On everything. Forever,” he said. He took off his dry shirt and silently handed it to her. She wrapped it, sarongstyle, around her waist. Then Wyatt picked up his flashlight, hooked it to his belt and scooped her up in his arms.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Caro asked indignantly.

  “Carrying you. You don’t have any shoes.”

  “I still have legs. Put me down.”

  “But we have to hike uphill to get to Morgan. It’s not an easy climb, and you’re hurt.” Her knees were bleeding, as were her hands.

  “I’m banged up a bit. Big deal.”

  “You’ll slip in those socks and cut up your bare legs.”

  “So I’ll take the socks off. Do I look like a lapdog? Or some Barbie doll you have to carry around?”

  “I…” Wyatt blinked. His woman had even greater courage and strength than he’d suspected. “No, but—”

  “So put me down. I need to move to get warm. I’ll freeze to death if I don’t get my blood circulating. And you can get me out into the sun faster if we both walk.”

  Only then did he set her down, carefully, tenderly, lovingly.

  “Oh, please, you aren’t going to go all sappy on me, are you?” She grabbed his shoulder with one hand to balance herself and pulled off her socks with the other. She shoved them into her pockets. “Look, if you’re afraid of Kimberly, just give me directions and the flashlight. I’ll find her myself.”

  “What?” He stared, amazed. He took in the bleeding hands planted defiantly on her hips. It occurred to him that he really had a lot to learn about this woman. One thing for sure—she was as strong as he was. Maybe stronger.

  “Fine. Be a wimp,” she spit out. “I’ll catch that madwoman myself!” She snatched the flashlight off his belt and set off.

  Wyatt grinned again. “You’re going the wrong way!”

  Caro hissed out an exasperated breath and stomped back to his side. Wyatt took the flashlight from her. He allowed himself one last wave of pleasure and love and pride before pushing his tenderness out of the way and letting his professional persona come into focus. He grabbed Caro’s hand with a businesslike grasp and pointed the flashlight in the right direction.

  “Follow me,” Tombstone’s sheriff ordered.

  The climb was even harder going uphill, instead of down, but Caro kept pace with him. Once or twice she slipped, but he was always there to steady her.

  They kept quiet, their bodies straining at the task, their minds ever alert for sounds of Kimberly. Even without a gun, there were enough weapons Kimberly could use against them in this dangerous area. Wyatt was determined that he and Caro had suffered enough at Kimberly’s hands, as generations of Bodines had suffered at the hands of Ellises. Justice must be done.

  Finally they were near the once secret entrance where Morgan awaited them. Caro merely glanced at the gold surrounding her, but she cried in sympathy at the sight of Morgan and rushed to his side.

  “How you doing, Morg?” Wyatt asked.

  Morgan’s response about certain sheriffs and what they could do with their idiotic questions didn’t bear repeating. Wyatt set down some old planking he’d found on their way before taking his canteen back from Morgan and passing it to Caro. She set it down.

  “Later. This leg needs tending.” She tore the sleeves off her own ragged shirt and reached for the splinting material.

  “I’ll do it,” Wyatt said. “You need to warm up. Get out in the sun and dry off.”

  “Take the water, too,” Morgan croaked.

  “Forget it! I have more knowledge of anatomy than you, Wyatt. And, Morgan, I’ve had enough water for a while.”

  “Drink!” Morgan insisted.

  “Put a lid on it, Bodine. I don’t take orders from your brother, I’m certainly not going to take them from you.” She started tearing her shirtsleeves into strips.

  Wyatt watched them argue. They stopped when he handed Caro his canteen.

  “Where are you going?” Morgan asked.

  “He’s going to find Kimberly,” Caro answered for him.

  She knows how it is. She lets me do my job.

  “She’s still alive?” Morgan couldn’t hide his shock.

  “So far,” Caro replied.

  “Kimberly gave me the slip, Morg. I have to find her.” His heart ached for Morgan, a man not blessed in love, the way he himself was. “She needs to stand trial.”

  “I know. But as long as she’s alive, there’s hope for her,” Morgan said, his voice a hoarse whisper. Wyatt couldn’t disagree.

  Caro took Morgan’s hand in her own, squeezing it for comfort, then went back to tearing her shirt into rags.

  “I gotta go, Morg… Caro.” What Wyatt really meant was, This is my life—hard decisions, pain and all.

  “Don’t worry about us,” she said. “Just be careful.”

  Wyatt’s relief was boundless. There was so much he wanted to say, so much he needed to hear, but now was not the time. “Later, then.”

  “Later,” Caro echoed.

  Morgan lifted Wyatt’s gun. “You want this?”

  “Yeah. I have her gun. Take it and give me mine.” The men switched; a man’s gun was like his horse—rarely shared. “You be careful, too. She may double back and show up here.”

  “I’ll be watching.” Morgan promised. “I’ll take good care of your lady, Wyatt.”

  “Thanks, Morg. But my lady can take care of herself.” He allowed himself one last look at the woman he loved, then was gone.

  Wyatt painstakingly searched for his childhood com
panion. He carefully covered familiar and unfamiliar ground—caves where he had played with Kimberly in his youth, caves where Kimberly had almost cost him the love of his life. His search took a long time, longer than it would have if his prey had been a stranger. Still, his steps were sure and silent. He moved with the stealth of the predator he knew he was, yet his chest was tight with sadness.

  Wyatt forced that sadness aside and concentrated. His predatory instincts told him Kimberly would be bold, even overconfident where he was concerned. There was a deepdown ruthlessness in Kimberly that he had always recognized; like did indeed call to like. Wyatt knew how dangerous she could be—would be—if she decided to fight him.

  The hours ticked by until the sun hung low in the western sky and Wyatt traveled back the way he’d come. He suspected that Kimberly would delay her emergence from the caves until dark. That was what he’d do if the situation was reversed. Perhaps she thought she could escape him in the evening twilight, but Wyatt knew better. He would never let her go until he knew those he loved would be safe. From Kimberly. Forever.

  He emerged out into the open. And there, amid the spires of ancient rock, on the other side of a ravine, there she was. She stood outlined against the setting sun at the natural entrance to the caves above The Silver Dollar Mine. Wyatt remembered the last time he was here, remembered the same pillared area where they had “saved” Kim once before.

  She was much higher than he was, the old ravine keeping them apart. Her beautiful hair glowed even redder in the sun’s fiery light. Wyatt couldn’t believe the sun was actually setting. How long had they been in the caves?

  He stared at her. I’ve never seen her look more beautiful—or more deadly.

  Kimberly spoke first. “I knew you’d come for me.”

  “I knew you’d be here. You were right, Kimberly. We do think alike.”

  “We always have. So tell me, Wyatt, what am I thinking now?”

  “You’ve decided to stay in Tombstone and fight.”

  She nodded. “Go on.”

  “A tearful performance about my lovesick, sun-addled brother—delirious after his terrible ordeal, of course.”