Second Chance Cowboy

by B. J Daniels

His wife was a liar and worse.

  What if they couldn’t catch her before she did something to that poor pregnant girl? Meredith didn’t really still believe she could get away with this, did she?

  Knowing Meredith, she did. She would come home with a baby. His baby. Except now he knew it wasn’t his baby. And she knew it. DNA tests would prove it.

  No, even Meredith didn’t think she could get away with this now. She would have to cover her tracks. He shuddered at the thought.

  The phone rang, making him jump. He stared it as it rang again. Meredith? He recalled what the FBI agent had told him as he started to answer it.

  If he told Meredith that he knew she wasn’t pregnant, what would she do?

  Turn herself in. Return the girl and the baby unharmed. The court would probably be lenient with her. She could be out of prison in a matter of years. Because of who their families were, she might not even have to serve a day in prison.

  But what if she tried to get rid of the evidence—and got caught? Murder one. She’d never get out of prison.

  John Foster picked up the phone as it rang again. He knew his wife better than she thought. She wouldn’t be able to admit guilt, to throw herself on the mercy of the court. The public shame would be too great for her.

  No, if Meredith were told that the FBI were not only onto her but also now knew she wasn’t pregnant, she would cover her crime. It would just be their word against hers—without the bodies. Delores and Juanita would never talk.

  He smiled as he said, “Hello? Is that you, Meredith?” He could see himself on some tropical island. If he sold the house, he could afford a nice boat. He and Meredith had saved enough money that he could live the rest of his life in relative luxury. Without working for his father and father-in-law. Without giving up a dime of his hard-earned money. Without Meredith.

  “Meredith, I’m so glad you called.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Hank stayed by the phone. Outside the ranch house, the sky darkened to a soft black velvet. No stars, no moon, no northern lights tonight. Clouds blocked out any light, giving the night an eerie ambiance.

  Hank had talked Lucas into staying for a while. They’d made a snack and given up on conversation after a while as they’d waited for the phone to ring.

  Lucas hid his nerves well, but Hank could see that the kid really was concerned about Charlotte and the baby—and no doubt beating himself up for leaving her the way he had.

  Regret. It wasn’t a good way to start a relationship. Hank just hoped to hell the two would get a chance. For the baby’s sake if nothing else.

  When the call finally came in, he snatched up the phone.

  “We’ve got a GPS reading,” the voice on the other end of the line announced.

  Meredith had turned on her phone, gotten service and made a call.

  As Hank wrote down the longitude and latitude of where Meredith’s call had originated, he glanced over at the map he had spread out on the table.

  “Who’d she call?” he asked.

  “The John Foster residence.”

  He found the location on the map. Arlene was right. Meredith hadn’t taken Charlotte to Billings or anywhere near it. He hung up and found the spot where Meredith had made a call to her husband just moments before.

  Was it where she was holding Charlotte? Or had she been forced to drive somewhere to get cell phone service?

  According to the topographical map, there was nothing but open country where the call had come from.

  Hank looked up at Lucas. “Do you know that area?”

  “Hell, yeah,” the biker said studying the map.

  “I can take you right to it.”

  That was what Hank had been hoping the kid would say.

  The problem was how to get there. “According to this map, there aren’t any roads into that country.”

  “There are roads. Well, trails. You just have to know how to find them.”

  “How far?” Hank asked.

  “Twenty-five, thirty miles. Rough road. We could go there on my bike.”

  Not a chance. “Draw me a map.”

  Lucas straightened, met Hank’s gaze and shook his head. “You won’t be able to find it without me. Trust me. Especially in the dark.”

  He didn’t know whether to believe Lucas or not. But clearly he wasn’t going anywhere without the kid.

  “Okay,” Hank said. “Let me call Arlene.” He stepped into his office and dialed her number. She answered on the fourth ring. “Arlene, I think I’ve found Charlotte. I’m on my way there. Lucas is going to take me.” He heard the rumble of the bike outside the ranch house and swore. “Gotta go.” He hung up and raced toward the living room.

  Damn kid was planning to take things into his own hands. Hank grabbed the keys and the map off the table and raced outside to his SUV. He could make out the taillights on the motorbike. He started the engine and went after him, promising himself he’d kick the kid’s butt when he caught him.

  Lucas was cooking down the highway, but Hank wasn’t about to let him out of his sight. The SUV had a big gas-hog of an engine, and right now Hank was damned glad of it.

  The night was bottom-of-a-well black, clouds low, stars nonexistent. The only thing he could see was the white line of the highway in his headlights. No one else was on the road tonight but him and Lucas. Nothing unusual about that in this part of Montana, even in early summer.

  This was austere country, wild, open and rolling. The only thing breaking the distant horizon was the purple outline of the Little Rockies. The sky was immense. Only a few trees appeared out of the darkness, huddled around a creek bed or a small pond.

  Hank had the feeling that he could keep driving forever and never reach the other horizon.

  Ahead, Lucas braked, the light on the back of the bike brightening as he slowed to turn off the highway. They were headed into the country to the south of Whitehorse known as the Breaks. Hank had driven some of the badlands. Miles and miles of isolated country and only a few roads, most impassible when wet. Fortunately there hadn’t been a rain for days.

  He swung onto the dirt road and took off after Lucas. He could barely make out the bike’s taillights for the dust the kid was kicking up.

  Hank was swearing when his cell phone rang. “Yeah?”

  “Thought you’d want to know. She made another call, then a third call, this one from a different location. We have a second reading on her.”

  He felt around until he found a pen, then in the light of the dashboard he wrote down the new reading on the edge of the map. No way could he check the map and keep up with Lucas. “How far is that from where she made the first call?”

  “About fifteen miles.”

  Meredith must have taken off right after making the call. What the hell?

  “She called an Arlene Evans from the first location after calling John Foster. Then she called John Foster from the second location a few minutes ago.”

  Hank disconnected and speed-dialed Arlene’s number. “Arlene!”

  “Meredith called,” Arlene cried.

  “Tell me—” The T in the road came up too fast. He dropped the phone as he had to brake hard, gripping the steering wheel with both hands, and still he barely made the turn. The dust wasn’t quite as bad on this more narrow road. He could make out the bike’s taillights from a farther distance.

  Groping on the floor, he found the cell phone. “Arlene? Sorry, I had to drop the phone. Tell me exactly what Meredith said.”

  He heard Arlene pull herself together. “She said that if I wanted to see Charlotte or the baby, I was to tell you to back off. She still thinks you’re FBI.”

  “Okay. That’s good.”

  “Hank…” Arlene’s voice broke. “I could hear Charlotte in the background. She’s in labor!”

  That meant that Charlotte had been at the first location that Meredith called from. The one that Lucas was rushing toward right now. But why would Meredith leave with Charlotte in labor? Had she gone to ge
t help? Or was she making a run for it?

  “Arlene, I need you to do something for me. Do you have a map of the area?”

  “Yes.”

  “Get it.” He waited, driving at a little slower clip, but keeping the bike’s lights in sight.

  “I have it.” Her voice was growing more distant. He was about to lose service.

  “I need you to check this longitude and latitude and tell me where it puts you, okay?” He held what he’d written up in the dash light and read it off to her. “Can you find it on your map? Try to hurry. I’m afraid I’m going to lose you.” Silence.

  Then Arlene’s voice, tight, scared. “Hank, if I’m reading this map right, she’s headed right for—”

  “Arlene? Arlene?” He swore and tried to redial, but the no-service signal came up. Disgusted, he tossed the phone on the seat next to him and concentrated on his driving. From what he could tell, they were now about twenty miles south of Whitehorse. He could make out the jagged dark edge of the pines that marked the Missouri Breaks.

  After the most recent ice age, the Missouri River changed course, flowing along the southernmost edge of the glaciers, cutting a gorge a thousand feet deep on its way to the Mississippi.

  Ahead, Lucas made another turn, slowing down, obviously realizing he wasn’t going to lose him. Then suddenly, almost before Hank could react, the bike stopped in a flare of brake lights.

  Hank braked, coming to a dust-boiling halt. He jumped out of the SUV and had Lucas by the throat before the punk could get off his bike. Out of the corner of his eye he saw what had stopped Lucas. Someone had felled a huge old cottonwood across the road—and recently.

  “What the hell did you think you were doing?” Hank demanded.

  “I lost my head,” Lucas croaked. “I wanted to be the one to save her. I needed to be the one.”

  Hank gave the kid a shove. He stumbled backward. “That was stupid. Had you found her and gone busting in, you could have gotten her killed.” He shook his head, wishing he didn’t understand Lucas’s reasoning so well. Lucas wanted to make up for the past. Didn’t they all? “I’m actually trained in this sort of thing. So trust me, okay?”

  Lucas nodded.

  “Is there another way?”

  He shrugged. “All these ridges lead to the reservoir. We just take the next one over. We’ll have to backtrack—”

  “Leave your bike,” Hank snapped as Lucas started for it. “You’re coming with me. One way or the other.”

  Lucas eyed him in the glow of the SUV’s headlights, clearly not liking taking orders. But maybe he also saw that Hank was in no mood to argue. “Okay.”

  Hank could have told the kid that he’d be waiting in the SUV once they reached their destination. He had a pair of handcuffs in the glove box and would make sure of it. But right now he just needed Lucas to show him where to go.

  They backtracked a mile or so up the road, then took what looked more like a trail.

  Hank sensed rather than saw the movement out of the corner of his eye. His gaze shot to the rearview mirror.

  He almost ran off the road as he found himself looking into Rena’s green eyes—and the dark barrel of the weapon she held trained on him. She hadn’t been in the back this whole time. That meant she’d followed them and had gotten into the SUV while he’d been arguing with Lucas.

  Hank swore under his breath. He hadn’t even thought to look for a tail. Especially someone driving without headlights on.

  “Where are we going?” Rena asked, sounding amused as Lucas let out a surprised curse.

  “Tell your biker friend to be cool.”

  “Do as she says,” Hank said as Rena pressed the barrel of the gun into the back of Lucas’s neck.

  Rena knew him too well. He would have tried to disarm her if the gun had been on him any longer. But he wouldn’t chance it with Lucas.

  “There’s a young woman,” Hank said. “Eighteen, she’s having a baby and being held by a desperate woman who wants her baby and her dead. I’m on my way to try to save them both.”

  Rena cocked a brow and smiled at him in the rearview mirror. “You always were such a champion of the underdog. By all means, let’s go save the girl.”

  ARLENE HAD LOST HANK. Frantically she tried to reach him again on the cell phone, needing to tell him that according to her map—

  She felt the hot breeze skitter across the kitchen floor and realized someone had just opened the front door and was now standing in the doorway.

  Bo? She’d gotten into an argument with him when she’d come in to answer the phone, and he’d left, walking down the road, calling someone on his cell phone to no doubt come get him.

  So when she turned toward the open front door, she was curious why he would have come back. She’d figured he would be gone for the night.

  But it wasn’t Bo standing in the open doorway, and she felt her heart leap to her throat as she saw Meredith Foster—and the gun she was holding. She looked very different—no longer pregnant, dressed in jeans, a T-shirt, a jean jacket and sneakers, her hair messed and no makeup.

  All Arlene could think was that the coordinates had been right. Meredith had called her just a few miles from here.

  “Is anyone else in the house?” Meredith asked.

  Arlene shook her head. “Where is my daughter?”

  “She needs you.”

  “I know she’s in labor. Is there someone—”

  “Yes, now stop wasting time. Let’s go.” Meredith waved the gun in the direction of the door.

  “You’re taking me to her?”

  “Why else would I be here?”

  That was the question Arlene was asking herself. “Is something wrong with Charlotte? The baby? You’re here because I need to call the doctor—”

  “No.” Meredith shook her head impatiently.

  “Delores and her sister are with her. They have delivered hundreds of babies in Mexico. They assure me she and the baby are doing fine.”

  Arlene looked from the gun to the woman, trying to make sense of what the woman was here for. Not to take her to Charlotte, Arlene feared. “I don’t understand.”

  “Your daughter needs you. There is nothing more to understand. She’s in labor. She’s screaming for her mother.”

  Just the thought of Charlotte screaming for her made Arlene move quickly to the door. A part of her still didn’t believe Meredith was taking her to her daughter. But if there was even a chance…She hurried out to the silver SUV parked outside, still running.

  “You drive,” Meredith ordered.

  “You don’t have to hold that gun on me,” Arlene said as she climbed behind the wheel and Meredith slid into the passenger seat.

  Meredith gave her a tight smile as Arlene shifted the SUV into gear and backed out of the yard. “Turn right,” Meredith ordered, still holding the gun on her. “It’s about fifteen miles from here.”

  Fifteen miles on this road would put them in the middle of nowhere in the Breaks.

  MEREDITH COULDN’T believe how good it felt not to be wearing that stupid maternity form. She pitied pregnant women everywhere, waddling around, eating lunch off their protruding tummies like snack trays.

  Arlene Evans hadn’t even blinked an eye when she’d seen her without the form. So what John had told her was true. That bastard. Apparently everyone knew what Meredith Foster had done. Or if they didn’t, they would soon.

  She let out a silent oath under her breath as she rehashed her upsetting phone conversations with her husband. This was all his fault, and he was acting as if there was something wrong with her?

  Well, it wasn’t over yet.

  She’d been underestimated her entire life. Had she been born a man, she would have been running her father’s and father-in-law’s company. Instead she’d had to marry John. As if he would ever be able to take over the business.

  Just the thought of John made her cringe. He’d told her that the FBI knew everything, knew that she wasn’t pregnant, knew that she’d taken
Charlotte Evans, and they were closing in on her. Unless she got rid of all the evidence…

  It was the excitement she’d heard in his voice. She’d never been able to elicit any excitement from the son of a bitch. Until now.

  “Imagine the newspapers,” John said. “They’ll have a field day. You’ll never be able to show your face in this town again.”

  Oh, she really did wish she didn’t know him so well. “They’ll never catch me. I covered my tracks too well,” she’d told him.

  “So you killed that girl and her baby. You’re going to fry,” John had said, sounding both horrified and delighted.

  “Montana state doesn’t ‘fry’ people, John,” she’d said sarcastically. “They hang them. And they have never hanged a woman.” At least that she knew of.

  “Then you’re going to spend the rest of your natural life in prison.” He’d sounded just as thrilled by that thought. “I’m putting the house up for sale. I’m buying a boat and sailing around the world.”

  “John? Are you drunk?”

  “Not yet, but I’m thinking about it,” he’d said with a laugh. “You’ve made my life miserable for years, Meredith, but that’s over now. I’m free of you. The FBI will catch you. I’ll tell them what you told me. Even if they can’t find that poor girl’s body—”

  She’d hung up on him, too angry to even speak. Why she’d called him back, she had no idea.

  “Meredith, is that you calling for bail money?” he’d said with a laugh when he’d answered the second time. “I’m sorry, but I can’t in good conscience allow someone like you back out on the streets.”

  He’d definitely been drinking. Celebrating.

  She’d hung up without a word. Which wasn’t like her.

  Neither was changing her plans. John wouldn’t expect that. Once she had a plan, she stuck to it come hell or high water. He would expect her to panic. To do something stupid that would if not get her killed at least get her caught. Wouldn’t he be surprised that she’d changed her plans at the last minute?

  Clearly she wasn’t herself.

  Chapter Thirteen