She lowered a hip to the bar stool next to Jerry. The question was, how did Bracco know Larry Hodgeson’s body was on that ridge? “What was Bracco arrested for?”
Jerry spun back and forth on the stool, as if it was beyond him to sit still. “How the hell should I know? Some damn thing.”
“You said he was a hardened guy, that he’d been in before.”
“So?”
The bartender set her soda and Eric’s beer on the bar. He reached out for the money.
“So what was he in for?” she asked.
Jerry waved his hand in front of his face, as if clearing the air of the bad smell her question brought with it. “Don’t they have records you can look up? I’ve talked with you people so much, my throat is getting parched.” He eyed the drinks sitting on the bar.
Eric nodded to bartender and motioned to their skinny, pale friend. “Whatever he wants.”
The bartender leveled a bored look on their companion. “What’ll it be, Jer?”
“Your best whiskey. A double. And a beer to chase it.”
Eric fished out his wallet and threw the last of their cash on the bar.
A chill moved over Sarah’s skin. So that was it. They could no longer pay their way. Couldn’t buy a drink or a sandwich or a clean shirt. They were forced to be criminals all the way, now.
The bartender plunked Jerry’s double shot and beer on the bar, and the skinny man took a long drink of whiskey. He set the highball glass down and reached for the beer.
Eric slid the glass out of Jerry’s reach. “First, Bracco.”
Jerry let out a wheezy sigh. “Rumor has it, he took care of problems for a price.”
“Problems?” Sarah asked. “What kind of problems?”
Eric kept his hand on Jerry’s beer. “By problems, you mean he killed people for money?”
“Killed people, cleaned up messes, whatever needed to be done. Can I have my beer back?” He reached out, and Eric slid the beer into his palm.
Sarah’s mind raced. So was that how this Bracco knew where to find Larry Hodgeson’s body? He’d pulled the trigger? Had the sheriff hired him to do his dirty work?
“Do you know a man named Larry Hodgeson?” Eric continued.
Jerry met his question with a blank stare. He took a chug of beer.
“He worked in the state crime lab. He analyzed fingerprints,” Sarah supplied.
A light seemed to come on behind those jittery eyes.
She leaned forward. “You know him?”
“Nah. Not me.” Jerry laughed, his lips pulling back to expose teeth that smelled as bad as they looked. “But Burne does. Don’t ya, Burne?”
Sarah followed Jerry’s gaze.
At first she thought he was looking at one of the two men standing at the back of the bar wearing cowboy hats. A man who from this distance looked very much like her ranch hand, Keith Sherwood. Then a man standing next to a pool table barely ten feet away turned around slowly.
A black leather duster fell to his knees. He stepped toward them, expensive lizard boots clunking on wood plank floor.
He skimmed his gaze down her body, but instead of the leer she got from the bartender, his expression was cold, clinical, like a rancher sizing up a steer. His black shirt was opened at the collar. Tattoos circled his throat, the ink forming intricate patterns of twisted barbed wire. “So you’re Sarah Trask.”
It wasn’t a question, and she didn’t answer.
“Glad to finally meet you. Randy often bragged about that big, profitable ranch of yours. Said you have a good business sense. Make smart decisions. Something he obviously never inherited.”
The bad feeling that had been niggling at the back of Sarah’s neck became a full bore bite. She hadn’t liked the fact that Randy knew this guy before she’d met him. Now she liked the idea even less.
Eric stepped around her stool so he was standing by her side. “You know Larry Hodgeson?”
“Never met the man.”
Yeah, right. “He was a fingerprint analyst for the Wyoming crime lab,” Sarah said. “He testified at your trial.”
He brought his focus back to her. His eyes gleamed cold, emotionless, brutal. As if he could kill her right now, without a second thought. Like swatting a fly. “I said I never met the man. Not that I was never in the same room with him.”
Sarah set her chin. “Then why did Jerry say you did?”
“Jerry?” He threw a dismissive glance the skinny man’s way. “He’s a meth head. Look at him. He don’t know what’s going on in his own mind half the time.”
Jerry sat back on the stool and clasped his hands in his lap. Where most people twiddled their thumbs, he twiddled all fingers at once. “Okay, yeah, my bad. He doesn’t really know him. The guy just—”
“Shut…up.”
“The guy just…” Sarah repeated, leaning toward the jittery beanpole of a man. “What did Hodgeson just do?”
“Listen, Sarah Trask.” Burne’s voice held an edge like a knife. “I don’t want to talk about Larry Hodgeson.”
“Hodgeson’s dead. Murdered,” Eric said.
Burne kept his eyes riveted on her. “So? I sure didn’t do it. The guy saved my ass.”
He had a point. Hadn’t the online article said that Hodgeson’s testimony had caused the jury to acquit Burne? It didn’t make sense for him to be involved in the fingerprint analyst’s death. So where did that leave them? She couldn’t believe Burne and Hodgeson and Sheriff Gillette and Randy were all tied together by coincidence. It had to add up somehow.
“Like I said, I don’t want to talk about the CSI guy. I’d much rather have a chat about your brother.”
Sarah’s pulse picked up its pace. “What about him?”
“He owed me. And with him dead, looks like you’re the one who’s going to have to pay.”
ERIC STRAIGHTENED HIS shoulders and stepped in front of Sarah, fully blocking her from Burne. When he’d heard Randy was involved with a guy like this, he’d been furious. And now Burne thought he could pull Sarah further into this mess? Guess again. “Randy’s debts died with him.”
The scumbag finally looked at him. “Not from where I’m standing.” The man’s hand hovered at his waist. His long leather duster reached to his knees, covering the holster Eric bet was underneath.
He couldn’t win this argument, especially not once guns were drawn. And although the prospect of walking away sent a pain shooting through his head like an ice pick to the eye, he had to remember that Sarah was the important one in all of this.
He had to get her out of here.
“Sarah doesn’t know anything about what her brother was into. She can’t help you.”
“Well, someone is going to give me back my money. If it isn’t her, who’s it going to be? You?”
Sarah’s fingers closed around his bicep. “How much did he owe?”
Burne leaned his face inches from Eric’s and grinned. “See? No need for bluster, friend. The lady believes in paying her debts.”
It was all Eric could do not to push his fingertips into the guy’s eyes. He didn’t know what Sarah had in mind, but if she thought this debt was a small thing she could take care of like a bar tab, he had a feeling she was going to be unpleasantly surprised.
“How much?” Sarah repeated.
“Twenty thousand.”
Sarah gasped. “Twenty…Why?”
“He screwed up. Lost the money I fronted him for a sporting goods shop he wanted to open.”
“Sporting goods shop, my ass,” Eric growled under his breath. He hadn’t heard anything about a sporting goods shop. More likely the money was meant for expanding Burne’s current business, making drugs. And knowing Randy, he’d probably blown the money. Bet it in Vegas or on football games, sure that he was going to win big, have enough to set up Burne’s new meth lab and pocket the profits himself.
Sarah’s eyes glistened. She looked like she was about to cry. “Randy told you he could get that much money?”
&n
bsp; “The day he got out.”
It all added up. Randy on the cliff…explaining he didn’t think Bracco’s warnings of danger were real…swearing the only reason he’d risked it was he owed a guy a lot of money. And apparently that guy was Burne. “How did he say he was going to get it?”
“Told me he heard about an opportunity while in county. Told me he just had to take a little hike and he’d have the money, just like that.”
A little hike led by his sucker of a friend. “So that’s why Randy stopped by the night he got out of jail?”
“He knew I’d be looking for him, so he came looking for me first. I like a man who shows initiative. I like a man who pays better.” He motioned to Jerry and the skinny man slipped off his bar stool and stepped toward the door. Sliding into the vacated spot, Burne leaned toward Sarah and rested a hand on the bar, blocking the path in front of her. “But since sister Sarah is going to take care of that now, I guess I have no cause to curse his damned memory. So where’s the money?”
“I don’t have it.”
“Wrong answer.”
Eric’s heart slammed against his ribs as if fighting to get free. Burne was a violent man, an unpredictable man. Eric could tell by the way he moved, the cold deadness in his eyes. He had to come up with a way to get Sarah away from him. “She can get it.”
“Good. I’ll go with you.” He glanced in Eric’s direction, then returned his focus to Sarah. “Just the two of us.”
“There’s no way in hell that’s happening.” Eric balled his hands into fists. He wouldn’t let the meth dealer take her. There wasn’t a chance.
The man gave him a smug glance. His hand moved under his duster. “Really?”
Sarah shook her head. “You can’t come with me. Not unless you want to catch the sheriff’s attention. He’s watching my ranch. I don’t even know if I can get into my house without being seen.”
“Ah, yes. The two of you are wanted for your brother’s murder, aren’t you? All the more reason for you to pay up now. I’ve already waited for my money long enough. I’m not planning to wait twenty to life. So I suggest you find a way. Now.” He pushed the duster back with one hand, flashing a semiautomatic handgun strapped to his hip, buckle of the holster popped open, ready to draw. Just as quickly, the duster settled back over the gun.
The move was fast, fluid, even casual, as if showing the gun was an absentminded accident. Eric knew it was anything but. It was a threat, pure and simple. If Sarah didn’t get the money, she was dead.
Footsteps scuffled outside the room. Jerry stood in the doorway looking like he was about to climb out of his skin. “They’re here.”
Burne raised black brows. “Who?”
“Sheriff’s deputies. Flashing lights. They’re pulling into the parking lot right now.”
Chapter Fourteen
In a flash of movement, Burne grabbed Sarah by the braid and pulled her head back, cradling her against his chest like a lover.
Eric surged forward. He wasn’t going to let Burne hurt her. Damn it, he wasn’t going to let the scumbag touch her.
An arm came from behind him, a knife blade flashing inches from his face. “I wouldn’t do that.” The bartender’s beer-tainted breath fanned his face.
Eric’s mind stuttered. He hadn’t seen the guy move out from behind the bar. He’d been caught flat-footed, unprepared.
Burne pressed his cheek against Sarah’s. “Have my money by noon tomorrow, all twenty grand, or the sheriff will be the least of your problems. Understand?”
She glared at him.
“Understand?”
“Yes.”
“You’ll get a call telling you where to meet. You’d better answer.” He shoved something into her hand, released her hair and pushed her away.
Sarah stumbled against a bar stool, clutching a cell phone in her fist. She scrambled to regain her balance. Eric tried to move toward her, but the bartender’s hand clamped down hard on his shoulder. The blade pressed cold just below his ear.
“Get out of here,” Burne said. “Through the back. The last thing I need is for you to be arrested before I get paid. Go.”
The knife pulled back. The arm released Eric. He focused on Burne, that smug face, those brutal eyes. When he’d grabbed Sarah he’d awakened something primal in Eric. The urge to rip a man’s tattooed throat with his bare hands. But as much as he wanted to stuff those threats back from where they’d come, he needed to get Sarah out of there more. He needed to protect her from Burne, all right, but he couldn’t forget the sheriff.
He grabbed Sarah’s hand. They dodged the pool table and raced for the back door. The men in cowboy hats he’d noticed standing in the back of the bar were gone. Cleared out. Before Jerry had yelled his warning or after, Eric didn’t know.
They reached the door and Eric pulled it open. As soon as they pushed out into the clear basin wind, Eric could hear the bark of male voices coming from the front of the building. A white SUV sat in the gravel drive, blocking all vehicles from leaving. Sheriff’s deputies stood among the vehicles in the lot.
So much for dumping their stolen SUV. And inside the SUV was the backpack with the belt buckle inside. Damn.
“We have to go on foot.” Before the words were out of his mouth, they were racing across the gravel and into land dotted with sagebrush and dry tufts of grass. A quarry gaped behind the bar like a wound, the land gashed and marred by heavy machinery. Reaching the pounded dirt road, they followed it, running for all they were worth.
With every stride, Eric prayed Burne was serious about wanting his money, serious enough to stall the sheriff until they got away. Relying on the man who’d just threatened Sarah to save them tasted as acidic as bile in the back of Eric’s throat. But at this point, he’d take any help they could get.
Sarah pointed to a flat-topped hill on the other side of the gaping quarry pit. “Everything beyond that bench is BLM land. It backs up to the ranch.” She panted each word, the rhythm of her strides slowing.
The ranch. Reaching the far side of the mine, Eric pulled Sarah behind a pile of gravel. There, sheltered from the view of the men back at the tavern, he slowed to a walk, giving Sarah a chance to catch her breath. They needed a plan. “How far is the ranch?”
“Not far. Probably less than two miles.”
“You have other vehicles there, right? Another ATV?”
She nodded. Leaning forward, she braced her hands on her knees. “You think they won’t be watching it?”
“Not if they’re tied up at the bar.” He knew it was risky, but he’d managed to sneak into the ranch undetected once before. And Sarah knew the land better than anyone. “Where are your hands? Layton?”
“Should be out on the BLM, checking the cattle. They would have taken the horses, though, not the ATV. Layton’s preference.”
“Good.”
“Say we manage to get the ATV and get out without being seen, where do we go from there?”
“Not sure. We’ll figure it out. But in the meantime, I know a place. A friend’s cabin. No one will be there until about a week before the parks open. We can stay there.” It had been the place he’d thought about at the beginning. A place where they could hole up. See no one. A place where he could keep Sarah safe until they sorted out this mess and decided what to do next.
The hike to the ranch didn’t take long by Wyoming standards. They ran most of the way, a steady jog. The sun was just settling low in the sky when they crossed the fence line and started through the east pasture. By the time the house and outbuildings came into view, twilight still glowed over the mountains to the west.
“God, it seems so long ago…I used to feel so safe here. I wonder if I ever will again.”
The ache in Sarah’s voice settled into Eric’s bones. She had told him about her feelings for the ranch before. Said it was her rock. The only thing she could rely on between her parents’ turmoil and the problems Randy stirred up everywhere he went.
Now she’d lost the ran
ch, too.
He wanted nothing more than to get it back for her. Maybe it was possible. He had to believe it was. But possible or not, clearing their names was still a long way off and would require more than a few miracles. The best he could do right now was to get his hands on that ATV and use it to get her someplace safe for the night. “Come on.”
The place felt as vacant as it had when he’d rescued her from the sheriff. Not a body around. No movement but the horses in the corral. And this time—thankfully—no sign of the sheriff’s SUV.
With any luck, he’d be tied up with Burne and his criminal drinking buddies for a good long while.
Sarah led the way to a freestanding garage on the other side of the house. She twisted the manual garage door’s handle and Eric helped her slide the door up on its overhead tracks.
They stared at the back bumper of a blue pickup.
Eric didn’t recognize the truck. He glanced at Sarah. “Yours?”
“No. I think—”
“You move, you’re dead.”
Eric turned. The barrel of a rifle was leveled straight at Sarah’s forehead.
“GLENN.” SARAH’S FIRST URGE was to hug her ranch hand. Her second was that although he wasn’t the sheriff, that didn’t mean they were home free. “What are you doing here?”
“God, Sarah. I almost shot you.” He tilted his hat back from his forehead and lowered his gun from his shoulder, but he didn’t avert the barrel, as if he wasn’t quite sure what he should do.
“Glenn, listen. This whole thing you’ve heard about Randy’s death. It’s not true.”
“I know you didn’t have nothing to do with killing Randy.”
“You know?” She’d expected him to say a lot of things, mostly reciting platitudes about justice and doing the right thing. She’d never expected this.
Glenn glanced at Eric. “Layton thinks it was all him.”
“Eric didn’t do it, either, Glenn.”
He pressed his lips together, making his cheeks bulge on either side of his mouth. Everything about Glenn was square, from his boxy legs to his shoulders to the shape of his head. And nothing was more square than his attitude toward the law.
Rocky Mountain Fugitive Page 12