Tyler was the second one to get what Lucas hoped was the magic elixir and finally Dottie Colton. When he had finished administering the medication, he left the isolation unit, changed out of the protective suit all staff was required to wear when interacting with patients and then headed to his office.
If his calculations were correct, he would know before noon tomorrow if the serum was the cure he’d been seeking. And if not, he would have to start all over again in the attempt to solve the mystery of the deadly virus.
Chapter 7
It was ten o’clock on Monday morning when Flint left his office to do a foot patrol down Main Street. True to her word, Nina had made pancakes for breakfast, and their conversation had been light and easy with no mention of what had transpired between them the night before.
With her big feast only ten days away, Flint was pleased her optimism had been back in place that morning. She told him she’d had fliers printed that would be put up around town starting today, and as he headed down the sidewalk he saw Abe doing just that.
Flint stifled a mental groan as he saw Trevor Garth approaching him from the opposite direction. There were two branches of Coltons in town, Flint’s family, and then the affluent branch that had been under the rule of Jethro Colton, who had recently passed away.
The two branches were not particularly unfriendly with each other, they just didn’t have much to do with one another. Trevor had married Flint’s cousin, Gabriella, and while Flint found the man decent, he’d been an impatient pain in the butt since the quarantine had fallen down around them.
“Flint.” Trevor raised a hand in greeting. “Any news on when any of us will be able to get out of this godforsaken town?”
“No news,” Flint replied.
Trevor’s nostrils narrowed in a way that instantly put Flint on the defensive. “How long can we be captives like insects under a microscope just waiting to get sick? You know Gabriella is pregnant. She’s at risk here. I’d love to get her and Avery out of this town.”
“Trevor, there’s nothing more I’d like to tell you than that you and your family could leave, but you know I’m not in charge of this quarantine. It’s bigger than me, and I have no jurisdiction where the quarantine is concerned.”
Trevor raked a hand through his hair and released a deep sigh. “I know. I’m just so damned frustrated.”
“We all are,” Flint replied. “But right now we’re stuck with things the way they are, and we just have to make the best of it. How is little Avery doing?”
For the first time since they’d started the conversation, Trevor smiled. “She’s doing great, although she’s at that age where she’s into everything.”
Flint smiled. “You’ll have your hands full when the new baby comes.”
“It will be a good handful,” Trevor replied.
The men exchanged goodbyes and continued on their separate ways. Trevor certainly wasn’t the only one in town growing more and more frustrated with the quarantine.
Seeing the joy on Trevor’s face as he’d talked about his daughter and the new baby to come had created a small tinge of jealousy that shot through Flint. Was it so wrong for him to want a woman to love and children of his own to raise?
He pulled his thoughts away from Trevor and family and instead turned them to what they should be focused on, the crimes and the escaped fugitives that haunted him.
Nothing had come from their tail on Ralph Dane. He either wasn’t in contact with Hank Bittard or the contact was so minimal that the officers tailing him had been unable to pick up anything yet.
Flint had a feeling of time standing still. No leads on the two fugitives he sought and no word from the clinic that any progress had been made on finding a cure for the disease.
The only thing that tempered his frustration this morning was the memory of making love to Nina the night before. He’d felt strong and complete with her in his arms.
Her open, giving smiles as they’d shared breakfast that morning had given him the determination to forge ahead in his duties as chief of police to do everything in his power to find the fugitives and at least give Nina back some semblance of a normal life.
While he’d like to keep her in his house forever, he somehow had to break through and get her to open up to him. He knew she was holding back, that something from her past haunted her. He wanted to help her heal so that she would be open to a real, loving relationship with him.
He smiled as he approached Harvey Watters, as usual seated on the bench in front of the hardware store. “How are you doing, Harvey? I haven’t had a chance to see much of you lately.”
“I figured you got your hands full right now, and with your cute little houseguest, the last thing you need is my old self showing up for a little social chitchat. But, I was just getting ready to go find you.”
“Oh?” Flint sat next to Harvey on the bench. “What’s up?”
“I think I’ve sat on this bench for so long that most people don’t even see me. I’m kind of like the old homeless man nobody pays attention to. A few minutes ago a couple of scruffy-looking young men left the café, and as they walked out they were talking about taking some supplies to the old Miller place.”
Electricity shot through Flint. “Did you know the men?”
Harvey shook his head. “I’ve seen them around town before, but I don’t have any idea about their names.”
“We just checked out the Miller place last week,” Flint said thoughtfully. The old house was located in the woods that Flint and his men had searched exhaustively.
He supposed it was possible that Hank or Jimmy had watched the search occur from some hiding place nearby and once it had been cleared and the officers had left, one of them had taken up residency there.
Flint shot up from the bench. “Sounds like something we need to check out right away.”
“Don’t forget the house isn’t the only structure on the property,” Harvey said. “There’s also a dilapidated old shed you might want to check out, too.”
“Thanks, Harvey.” With a distracted wave, Flint headed back in the direction of the police station. If Harvey had heard right, then this might be the break they’d all been looking for.
As he hurried down the street, his mind worked the logistics. The last thing he wanted to do was go in with enough manpower to potentially warn or spook whoever might be there.
“Patrick, Mike, come with me,” he said as he entered the squad room.
Officers Patrick Carter and Mike Harriman were the two men he trusted most when it came to an operation like this. They both could move as quietly as cats, and since the restructure of the police department, he knew they were the experienced veterans. They had been his go-to men since he’d taken over as chief.
Neither of them asked questions as they followed Flint back outside and to his squad car. It was only when they were in the car and headed to the woods on the west side of town that Flint told them what Harvey had overheard.
“Too bad Harvey didn’t know the names of the men,” Patrick said from the backseat.
“I just hope they’re meeting up with Bittard.” Mike shot Flint a quick glance. “I know you’re eager to get Jimmy behind bars to give Molly some closure.”
“Trust me, I’d rather get an escaped killer in custody than Jimmy right now,” Flint replied. “Molly is in no more danger from Jimmy, but getting Bittard behind bars would allow Nina to know she doesn’t have anything to fear anymore. She could get her own life back without looking over her shoulder.”
He tightened his hands around the steering wheel. He wanted to make an arrest so badly, he tasted it in his mouth, felt the need surging through his entire body.
He knew an arrest of Bittard would send Nina out of his house, but in this case duty and responsibility far trumped any personal feelings he might
have for her.
That killer belonged behind bars. The memory of Madelaine in Cheyenne, of Jolene’s broken body on the ground, weighed heavy in his heart. While Hank hadn’t been responsible for Madelaine’s death, Flint had been. Flint had also been responsible for Jolene’s murder. He refused to allow Hank to kill again in his town, especially when he knew the killer was focused on Nina.
He parked about a mile from their destination, pulling his car off the side of the road and into a stand of trees where it would be difficult to spot unless somebody was specifically looking for it.
“So, what’s the plan?” Mike asked.
“Mike, we’ll give you a five-minute head start. Work your way around to the back of the property. Keep in mind there’s two buildings we’re focused on, the house and an old shed that’s somewhere nearby. Patrick, you go to the left of the house, and I’ll take the right,” Flint said. “Mike, you stay back and watch the area. We’ll check out the house first, and needless to say we go in as quiet as possible, and hopefully have the element of surprise on our side.”
With a plan in place, Mike took off, and Flint and Patrick waited silently for five minutes to give Mike enough time to get far enough ahead of them to be able to cover the back of the structure.
After five minutes had passed, Flint and Patrick parted ways and went on the move. As with the last time he’d checked this area, Flint moved slowly, stealthily, and tried to avoid stepping on dead roots or twigs that would give away his presence.
Surprise was the only element they had on their side at this moment, and the last thing he wanted was crunching leaves or broken branches to tip off whoever might be holed up in either the Miller house or the old shed.
His gun felt comfortable in his hand as he made his way deeper into the woods. The Miller house had been abandoned for years. Taken over by wildlife, victim to the elements, the place could only be considered hospitable to somebody who had nowhere else to go.
But the wind that blew through the trees was cold, and anyplace would do in a storm, Flint thought. It wouldn’t be long before the wind would be bitter and snow would fly and shelter would be a necessity.
As he crept along, he kept his focus in all directions, knowing that it would be far too easy to be ambushed with all the brush and trees as hiding places.
It didn’t take long before he had the Miller house in his sights. He crept down and peered across the area, seeking a flash of the black uniform that would let him know Patrick was in place.
The old listing shed was some distance away. They would check out the house and then head to the shed. Flint saw Patrick through the woods and had the confidence that Mike was also in place. If anyone was inside the house, they would have difficulty escaping all three officers.
The porch was broken down on one side, and the front door hung askew from one hinge. There was no noise to indicate that anyone was inside, but that didn’t mean the house was deserted.
Flint moved forward, conscious of Patrick doing the same. They met just in front of the porch. Flint motioned Patrick to follow him as he stepped up on what was left of the porch and whirled into the house with his gun leading the way.
He fought a fierce disappointment as he realized the living room looked just the way it had the last time they’d checked it out. Old beer bottles and cans hugged one corner of the room, and one wall was spray painted with graffiti, indicating that over the years this had been a party place for the teenagers in town.
The kitchen yielded nothing new, either. Dead leaves had blown through a broken window and pooled on the floor. There was nothing on the counters, nothing in the cabinets to indicate that anyone had used this place as shelter.
It took only minutes for them to clear the rest of the house, finding each room empty except for cobwebs and nature’s encroachment. Flint was certain that nobody had been hiding here during the time that Jimmy and Hank had been on the run.
He and Patrick stepped out the back door. He motioned in the distance where the shed was barely visible among the bare trees.
They moved as a unit toward the structure. They were halfway there when a loud crashing sound came from their left, a sound that indicated somebody on the run.
He and Patrick raced after whoever they had flushed out. They ran together and then split up, unable to discern in which specific direction the person had run.
Desperation drove Flint forward. This was as close as he’d been to catching a perp in weeks. He needed this. The town needed this, and if it was Bittard in the woods, then Nina needed Flint to get the job done.
He dodged around trees, threw himself through brambles and brush and stopped every few minutes to listen for signs that he might be closing in. It didn’t take long for him to realize that he had no idea where the fugitive had gone.
He was even more discouraged that he heard no indication that Patrick was in hot pursuit of anyone. The damn woods were too big, and it was as if the runner had managed to disappear into thin air. Flint should have brought an army with him, he thought in disgust as he headed back toward the shed.
Patrick was waiting for him there. “I lost whoever it was,” he said in obvious frustration. “Looks like somebody has been staying here,” he said as he gestured toward the shed. “I took a peek inside.”
“Where’s Mike?” Flint asked. “He should have shown up here by now.”
“I haven’t seen him since we parted ways at the car,” Patrick said.
A sick feeling filled Flint’s stomach. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and called Mike’s phone. It rang and rang and finally went to voice mail. Flint dropped the phone in his pocket and looked at Patrick. “I think Mike’s in trouble. We need to find him.”
“He would have headed to the back of the house from the car,” Patrick said.
Together the two of them left the shed and headed toward the house. Flint’s heart beat with a dull rhythm of dread. Had he put one of his officers in harm’s way?
The person he and Patrick had gone after hadn’t run anywhere near the house. So where was Mike? Why hadn’t he answered his phone or shown up at the shed?
Dammit, Flint should have brought more help. He should have never allowed Mike to stand on his own in the woods where two fugitives were loose.
They reached the house, and Patrick went left and Flint went right around the structure. “Mike,” Flint called frantically as he reached the back of the house.
Patrick echoed him, calling out to his fellow officer. It was only when Flint was about twenty feet away from the back of the house that he heard a low moan and saw Mike sitting in the brush and rubbing the back of his head.
Both Flint and Patrick rushed over to him. Flint knelt down next to him. “Mike, what happened? Are you all right?”
“Yeah, I’m okay. Somebody sneaked up behind me and hit me in the back of the head.” Mike touched the back of his head again and winced. “And whoever it was had a hell of a swing.”
“Can you get to your feet?” Flint asked.
“I think so.” With Flint grabbing his arm, the two men rose. Flint moved around to the back of Mike and checked out his head.
“You definitely have a goose egg,” Flint said. “We need to get you to the clinic.”
“No, I’m okay.” Mike straightened his shoulders. “Let’s finish what we came here to do. Did you get to the shed?”
Flint filled him in on them flushing somebody out and that he and Patrick had given chase, only to lose them. “Whoever we chased couldn’t have been the person who hit you.”
“What I don’t understand is why I still have my gun. Why smash me in the head and then not take my weapon?” Mike asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe he stumbled on you and got freaked, then hit you in the head and ran,” Flint replied. “Are you sure you shouldn’t go to the clinic?”
>
Guilt rode heavy on Flint’s shoulders. He should have never put Mike out there alone. If he couldn’t keep one of his own men safe, then how in the hell could he trust himself to make decisions that would keep Nina safe?
“I’m fine,” Mike assured him. “I have a slight headache, but I don’t feel sleepy or nauseous. I’ll check in at the clinic later. Let’s get back to the shed and see what’s inside.”
Flint looked at him with pride. This was why Mike was one of his go-to guys. He was tough, and he was all about the job.
As they headed back to the lean-to structure, Flint continued to berate himself for his lack in judgment in not bringing more officers out here with him.
“We chased one man through the woods while another one smashed Mike in the back of his head. What are the odds that the two perps would be in the same general area?” Patrick asked.
“Maybe they’re somehow working together to stay hidden,” Mike suggested.
“I don’t know. I find that hard to believe. Jimmy isn’t a seasoned criminal. He’s just a stupid kid. I can’t imagine him hooking up with Hank for any reason,” Flint replied. “And I can’t imagine Hank wanting to trust a stupid kid.”
By that time they had reached the barely standing structure. Flint bent his head to enter the shed that had collapsed on one side. “Definitely somebody was here.” A sleeping bag was on the floor, along with a flashlight and several bottles of water.
“Can you tell whether it was Jimmy or Hank?” Patrick asked from outside.
Flint kicked the sleeping bag to see if there was anything hidden beneath and then noticed several cans of food and a hand-operated can opener nearby. “Can’t tell. Whoever it is appears to be living on canned tuna and beans.” He stepped out of the shed.
“Maybe Jimmy had made himself cozy here, and Hank was hanging around just waiting for the opportunity to get the kid out and take over the space. There aren’t many other places to take shelter out here,” Patrick speculated.
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