Rocky Mountain Fugitive

by Ann Voss Peterson

  He did. As soon as he uttered the last digit, Eric hung up.

  SARAH HEARD ERIC HANG up the phone, but she didn’t take her eyes from the television. Her body alternated between a hot and cold sweat. It was all she could do to take in the images on the screen. She cupped her arm over her abdomen and willed herself to stay standing.

  “Sarah?” Eric strode into the room. He glanced from her to the television.

  The news coverage was live, a breaking story. The headline on the bottom of screen read Murderous Fugitives Strike Again. The camera panned over wood corral fencing, a modest house, a barn she had redesigned and remodeled herself. A still image flashed on the screen. Eric’s face. Hers. And then another. The face of a man she’d just seen, just talked to, just given a hug.

  The smiling face of Glenn Freemont.

  She didn’t know anything anymore. She’d gone from being suspicious of Glenn to grateful to him and back to suspicious. And now…

  She’d watched the images once already. One after another, ending with Glenn. She’d heard the news-caster’s words. The story of how Glenn’s body was found at her ranch, shot with his own rifle.

  Now a new clip flickered on the screen. The sheriff stood in her driveway. Behind him, county vehicles crowded around the barn. Yellow crime scene tape barred the doorway, flapping in the wind. He adjusted his silver belly Stetson lower on his bald forehead. “We have a strong lead. Just as in the Randy Trask murder, we believe the perpetrators are Eric Lander and his accomplice, Sarah Trask.”

  Sarah’s shock turned to numbness. She didn’t know what to think. She didn’t know what to feel. It was as if her entire life and everything she knew had been picked up by a tornado and flung into a million pieces.

  “Sarah.” Eric’s voice was tender, solid.

  She could feel his hand hovering near her arm, wanting to touch her but holding back. “It was only a few days ago that I was so excited Randy was home.” Her voice sounded raspy, like it belonged to someone else, someone barely hanging on. “I thought he had a chance to turn his life around. I thought I could see the future stretching ahead.”

  “I know. I know.”

  “And now Glenn.” A sob shuddered from her chest and clogged in her throat. Glenn was dead. He’d tried to help them, and now he was dead.

  “It’s not our fault. You know that, right?”

  She knew it. She did. The sheriff or one of his men had pulled the trigger, not her, not Eric. But that didn’t mean they hadn’t played a role. “If he hadn’t given us his truck, he’d still be alive. He’d be going home to his wife.”

  Tears swamped her eyes, reducing the TV screen to glowing smeary color. She could feel the moisture on her cheeks, but she didn’t wipe her eyes. She needed to feel this, not deny it, not duck from it. That was the only way the horror could ever be washed away.

  Eric stepped up behind her. He wrapped his arms around hers, around her belly. His chest warmed her back. “I’m so sorry, Sarah. For Randy. For Glenn. For everything that’s happened.”

  “It’s not your fault, either.”

  “I know. But I’m sorry everything has happened the way it has all the same.”

  His words flowed over her like soothing balm on a burn. She knew she shouldn’t lean in to him, but her body wouldn’t listen. His chest felt so solid. Like something she could depend on. His arms strong around her.

  She knew she was rationalizing, brushing all her concerns about their relationship aside because she needed him right now. But she couldn’t help it. She wanted to be sure of something. She wanted to be certain to her bones. And while she might not be sure of Eric’s feelings, she did know hers. She loved him. Pure and simple. She had for a long time. She’d just tried not to admit it.

  But right now she needed to feel it, whether he returned those feelings or not. She needed to lose herself.

  She turned in his arms. Tilting her head back, she looked up at him. She couldn’t ask, couldn’t speak. She just had to trust he would know what she wanted. What she needed.

  He moved a hand up her side to her face. With tender fingers, he skimmed over her forehead, along her cheekbone, brushing away a strand of hair that had escaped her braid. His touch moved lower, cupping her jaw. He tilted her head back and brought his mouth to hers.

  She’d craved the touch of his lips for months, yearned for his taste. She opened to him. Wanting to lose herself in him. Urging him deeper.

  His arm drew tight around the small of her back, and she pressed against his length. She threaded one leg around his. She knew how his bare skin would feel against hers. She knew the sounds he’d make nuzzling her breasts, the stubble on his chin rasping tender skin. She’d run those feelings over in her thoughts for months. In her dreams. And she never thought she’d get to experience them again.

  “Sarah.” His voice was little more than a whisper, but it rumbled through her chest. “I want you to know—”

  “Shh.” She pressed her lips hard against his. She didn’t have a clue what he wanted to say, but she didn’t want to hear it. She didn’t want to know anything more than what she felt right this minute. What she knew deep in her own heart. “I want you. That’s all. I just want you. Is that okay?” She brought her lips to his again.

  He nodded without breaking the kiss. Trailing his hand down her neck, he encircled her with both arms, pulling her tight, no space between them.

  Yes. This was what she needed. To be held. To be loved. To love him back. Even if it was only for tonight.

  Heat raced over her and swept her along. He peppered kisses over her face, her neck, her collarbone. She explored his mouth, remembering. She breathed him in, the scent of his skin making her sigh deep inside.

  Skimming her hands up his sides, she pulled up the hem of his shirt and slipped her palms against ridged muscle and warm skin. She’d always loved the feel of his body, and she wanted more. She wanted all of him. She slipped her fingertips under the waistband of his jeans.

  He pulled back from her. Cool air surrounded her and for a second she thought he was going to push her away. She opened her eyes in time to see him pull his shirt over his head, not taking time to mess with the buttons, and toss it on the bed.

  Shadows cupped around smooth muscle. He unzipped his jeans and shucked them down his legs. Wearing nothing but a pair of briefs, he reached for her. But instead of pulling her back into his arms, he lifted her T-shirt and skimmed it over her head.

  She shivered, yet she was anything but cold. Arching her back, she reached behind and unhooked her bra. Her breasts had become heavier just in the four months since she’d gotten pregnant, the nipples larger. She let the bra slide down her arms.

  Eric’s hands replaced the cups. He took her lips again, kissing and massaging. Slowly, he moved her to the bed. Gently, he lowered her to the mattress. She lay on her back, and he leaned over her.

  His kisses grew more demanding, and Sarah answered with demands of her own. All she could sense was how much she wanted him. All she could think about was the taste of his body, the scent of him that had always driven her wild, made her forget everything and just feel.

  Feel how much she wanted him. Feel how deeply she loved him. That was all that mattered. Wipe everything else away.

  He laced his fingers in hers and brought her hands above her head. He moved his kisses lower, down her throat, over her collarbone. His tongue circled a sensitive nipple.

  The sensation took her breath away. He flicked and kissed and sucked, then moved to the other, lavishing, taking his time.

  She thought she’d go mad with want.

  By the time he released her hands and littered kisses to her jeans, she wanted nothing more than to be naked. To see him naked. To feel him inside her.

  He unbuckled her jeans with deft fingers. Lifting her hips off the bed, he stripped off both jeans and panties and brought his lips to her belly.

  As he kissed the slight bulge of baby, tears swamped her eyes. She blinked them back, wanti
ng to see him, to smile at him, but it was no good. She cried as he moved his lips lower, shudders of pleasure already seizing her. And when he worked his way back up her body and kissed away her tears, she thought her heart would burst.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Gooseberry Badlands were carved into the floor of the Big Horn Basin. Years of erosion had eaten away soft rock, leaving red, yellow and tan layered spires and canyons twenty-five feet deep. Many of the rock towers were topped by wider caps of harder rock called hoodoos, looking to Sarah a little like the formation on top of Saddle Horn Ridge. From one of the high spots among the hoodoos, the sole highway could be seen for miles stretching in either direction. A parking lot rested at the top of a circular foot trail weaving through the badlands.

  Sarah and Eric had slept later than they’d planned. Tearing herself from Eric’s warm arms had been one of the hardest things she’d ever done, and even now she wished she could curl up, skin to skin, and just pretend the rest of the world didn’t exist.

  “What are you thinking about?”

  She hadn’t even been aware that Eric was watching her. Suddenly she felt insecure. Exposed. Even her cheeks heated, and she hadn’t blushed in years. “Last night. This morning. How I wished we were still in bed.”

  He moved up behind her, circling his arms around her and pulling her against his chest as he had last night before things had heated up. “I love how you think. In fact, I love everything about you, Sarah.”

  His words were so close to the ones she longed to hear, longed to believe, that at first she thought she must be imagining it. Dreaming it.

  She reached her arms above her head and rested her hands on his shoulders. The wind whipped off the basin, buffeting against them and whistling through rock formations.

  He pulled her tight. “Just think of it all being over and us living back at your ranch—you, me and the baby. Our little family.”

  That image brought a smile to her face. She could almost see it. Almost feel it was true. “You’re looking forward to being a dad?”

  “The more this seems real, the more excited I get.”

  Something wobbled deep in Sarah’s chest. She’d always thought Eric would make a great dad. But somehow she’d never envisioned him being excited about their baby, eager for it to be born.

  Had her dad been like that when her mom was pregnant with Randy?

  She didn’t know where the question had come from, but once it popped into her mind, she couldn’t shake it. She also couldn’t give it an answer.

  The wobble turned to a gnawing void, something hungry, something that couldn’t quite be filled. She fitted her bottom tight to Eric’s groin, yearning to feel him, but layers of denim kept them separate. She wanted to strip off her clothes, for him to plunge into her, fill her like he had last night, so she could feel the same way, close and intimate and loved.

  So she could finally be sure.

  She shook her head and dropped her hands to her sides. Oh, sure, they could get it on right here with Prohaska on his way and maybe the entire sheriff’s department behind him. What was wrong with her? This need of hers was out of place, stupid, insecure. But try as she might, she couldn’t let it go.

  “What’s wrong, Sarah?”

  “Nothing…I don’t know.”

  He pulled her back against his chest. “It’s all going to work out.”

  She soaked in his warmth, tried to draw it into herself, make it hers, keep it from ever going away. “I can’t do this.”

  He turned her in his arms, eyes searching her face. “This?”

  “You and me.”

  “Listen, soon we’ll find the truth. This will all be over. And the two of us, we can take our time, let things settle in and grow naturally.”

  Was that the problem? Things happening too fast? God knew their romance had bloomed quickly last summer and fall. And in the past few days since they’d been reunited and were suddenly running for their lives, she’d totally lost perspective. Could she get it back after this was over? Could she then look into his eyes and know that he loved her?

  Could she then be sure?

  “I…” Craning her neck, she turned and looked up at him. She drank in the swirl of color in his irises, green flecked with brown. He was excited about the baby. Felt it was his duty to be a good dad. But did he really love her enough? Did it even matter as long as she couldn’t make herself believe? “I’m afraid.”

  “It’s going to be okay. We can see the highway from here, both directions.” He pointed at the gray ribbon, still void of cars. “No one can sneak up on us. If Prohaska brings the sheriff along, we’ll know about it in plenty of time to get away on the ATV.”

  She hadn’t been talking about their meeting with the reporter, but she didn’t know how to tell him what she really meant. That as wonderful as making love with him was and as many times as he told her he loved her, she was afraid she’d never really know if he’d come back for her or the baby.

  There was really no way to know.

  ERIC ANGLED HIS HAND to his forehead to block the midday sun’s glare. He wasn’t sure what had happened just now. One moment he thought he and Sarah were closer than they’d ever been. The next, she seemed gone. She was standing here physically, her butt nestled against him and driving him wild, but something was different. She’d grown distant. Closed off. The very pressure in the air had changed.

  He wasn’t sure how to take it.

  His whole life he’d relied on logic, reason, preparation and hard work to see him through. And it had worked. It had protected him from the chaos. It didn’t make for an exciting life—instead his was measured and safe. But that was fine by him. He could get his excitement scaling a challenging rock face or viewing a waterfall human eyes might never have seen before. It suited him fine.

  The past days, though, everything had changed. Each time he thought he had things under control, each time he thought he was relying on logic, he’d been wrong. But feelings…they were all he could be sure of anymore. Namely his feelings for Sarah. When he’d told her he loved everything about her, he wasn’t lying.

  Wind whistled through the rock formations above them, every few seconds gusting nearly as loud as a freight train. She pointed to a little blue coupe creeping along the highway. “He’s here.”

  Eric studied the approaching vehicle. With the wind-shield reflecting the sun, he couldn’t see how many people were inside, but no cars or trucks or sheriff’s department SUVs followed. A good sign.

  At least they had that much going for them.

  He concentrated on breathing and composing his mind. He and Sarah would have time to work out whatever was bothering her. It would be fine. He had to believe that. Right now he had to focus on getting some answers from the reporter. And if he could win the guy’s sympathies, all the better.

  The car pulled in to the parking lot and a doughy-looking man wearing a blue polo shirt and khakis stepped out. He let himself in through the gate and walked around the trail, as Eric had instructed over the cell phone earlier.

  Eric watched the car, but he detected no movement inside. From what he could tell, the reporter had indeed come alone.

  Prohaska ambled down the trial with a shuffling, flat-footed gait. When he finally spotted Eric and Sarah, a smile played around the corners of his thin lips, not exactly happiness, but excitement. Chasing a story.

  They made the introductions brief.

  “Mind if I get this on tape?” the reporter asked.

  “Go ahead.” At least that way he’d have a record of what they knew…in case they were arrested, or killed before they could tell the story themselves.

  “So how did it happen? How did you become a murderer?” Prohaska asked straight off.

  “I didn’t do it.”

  He screwed his lips to the side and shook his head as if disappointed. “All murderers say they didn’t do it. Try walking into the state pen in Rawlins sometime. That’s what they’ll all tell you.”

&nbs
p; Eric shook his head. They didn’t have time for this.

  “What do you know about Hodgeson?”

  Prohaska’s puffy smile faded. “I think he was murdered.”

  Eric nodded slowly, trying not to tip his hand, not until he learned more. “What makes you think that?”

  “Like I said last night, I’m writing a book. I had one interview with the guy—kind of a dry one at that—and then he called me out of the blue.” He paused, as if trying to lend dramatic import to his words.

  “And said?” Sarah prodded.

  Prohaska glanced from one to the other. “That he was planning to confess to a crime.”

  “A crime?” Sarah’s eyes flew wide.

  The wind was loud, swirling now. Maybe Eric hadn’t heard him. He narrowed his eyes on the reporter. “What kind of crime?”

  “Accepting bribes.”

  “From who?”

  “You already know the who. You mentioned him last night. One of the biggest methamphetamine producers in the area. Walter Burne.”

  “So it was Burne’s fingerprints in the meth lab?” Sarah asked. “And Hodgeson just lied?”

  “Lied under oath. Add perjury to the list.”

  It didn’t add up. Why take a bribe, lie on the witness stand and then confess for no reason? There had to be a reason. “Why would Hodgeson confess?”

  “Because he was dying of emphysema. He was pretty far along. I guess he wanted to make sure his soul was prepared or something. I always wondered if I was jumping to conclusions about the murder, if he didn’t decide to just kill himself instead.”

  Emphysema. Eric remembered an offhand comment Joy Hodgeson had made about her ex-husband being sick. And that he quit his job before his retirement benefits kicked in. But even though the circumstances seemed to suggest suicide, there was one detail that proved Hodgeson had been murdered more conclusively than the bullet hole in the back of his skull. “He didn’t kill himself.”

  “You know that for a fact?”

  “We found his body. Bullet hole in the skull.”