A_Wanted Man - Alana Matthews

by Intrigue Romance

  And sure enough he saw it again, coming from higher ground, inside a clump of bushes. Light reflecting off a mirrored surface of some kind.

  Or maybe the glass of a rifle scope?

  If so, the shooter was about three hundred yards away up a slight incline, getting a bead on Callie and the others where they hid behind the trunk of that Douglas fir.

  Knowing the shots would start up again soon, Harlan didn’t waste any time. He began working his way again from tree to tree, moving as quickly and as stealthily as possible, circling around and behind the shooter’s position.

  Then taking his Glock from its holster, he crouched low and started inching toward that bush.

  But as he got closer, his intuition kicked in and he suddenly realized that he was wrong. The shooter wasn’t hiding inside that bush, and the light he’d seen was, in fact, nothing more than a mirror.

  A decoy.

  And as this realization set in, Harlan felt cold steel on the back of his head for the second time in forty-eight hours.

  The barrel of a rifle.

  “You’ll want to drop that weapon, son.”

  Harlan cursed inwardly. Landry Bickham was behind him. And Harlan couldn’t quite believe that he’d been duped twice in a row. All that training and what had it gotten him? He’d once again let his guard down in a tight situation and that wasn’t good. It wasn’t good at all.

  What the heck was wrong with him?

  “You’re making a huge mistake here, Landry.”

  “Oh? How you figure? You folks’ll be dead, I’ll be alive and Meg and her friends will be able to ride out of here without you people interfering.”

  “I don’t get it. Why are you helping them?”

  “I don’t see as how that’s any of your business.”

  “Call me curious,” Harlan said.

  He honestly didn’t care about Landry’s motives, but he figured the longer he kept the man talking, the longer it would take him to pull the trigger.

  “Well, you know what they say about curiosity,” Landry told him. “And it looks as if it’s about to come true for you.”

  So much for that plan.

  Harlan heard the faint rustle of fabric and felt movement behind him and knew it was now or never. Shooting a hand back, he grabbed hold of the rifle barrel and twisted, just as the shot went off. The sound of the blast exploded against his right eardrum, pain piercing it as he turned, swung out hard and landed a solid blow to the center of Landry’s face, using his Glock as a club.

  Bickham shrieked and dropped the rifle as he stumbled back, grabbing at his broken nose, blood pouring between his fingers, his eyes wide with surprise and sudden horror.

  Harlan kicked the rifle aside, then raised the Glock and trained it on him, saying, “One more move and I’ll consider it an excuse to shoot you.”

  But the only move Landry Bickham had left in him was to drop to the ground, sitting in the dirt as he nursed his bleeding nose.

  CALLIE SAID, “THERE’S NO POINT in holding out on us, Landry. We’re gonna find out one way or another.”

  Harlan was having trouble hearing from his right ear. It had begun to ring, as if he had just come from a sound barrier-busting rock concert, and he wondered if it would ever go away.

  Small price to pay for being alive, he supposed, but he’d much prefer to avoid having to wear a hearing aid for the rest of his life, if that was even remotely possible.

  Once he’d gotten Landry back on his feet, he had cuffed his hands behind him and escorted the old fool back through the woods to where Callie and the others were situated. Callie had succeeded in stopping the flow of blood from Mercer’s arm and he was already sitting upright, his face no longer looking quite as pale as it had been a few minutes ago.

  Not that he was the picture of health. They all knew they had to get him to a hospital. And soon.

  As Rusty hobbled through the woods trying to rustle up the horses—and a much-needed first aid kit in one of the saddlebags—Callie took charge of questioning Bickham.

  “You hear me, Landry? You might as well fess up.”

  “He broke my nose,” Bickham said, a nasally twang to his voice.

  “And you tried to kill us. Twice. So pardon me if I don’t have a whole lot of sympathy for you.”

  “Shoulda done it back in that library. Taken that floozy of a librarian down with you.”

  Callie sighed. “Your not winning any friends here, Landry. You might want to consider being a little more cooperative before one of us hauls off and breaks that nose again.”

  Landry visibly winced. “I want a lawyer.”

  “You what?”

  “A lawyer. I don’t have to say nothin’ without one. I know you think I’m stupid—most everyone does—but I got enough smarts to know my rights.”

  Harlan was a big believer in due process. More than once Callie had accused him of being a cowboy, but he had never been one of those law enforcement types who abused his power in the name of the greater good. He usually played it aboveboard and straight down the line. Collected his evidence the hard way, through good solid police work.

  But to his mind today was different. This man had nearly killed them more than once. Had dedicated himself to the task. Not only that, the people he was protecting had torched a vehicle with a man still inside and had done the same to a house after shooting two people. Not to mention they’d started this little crime spree with a fairly solid knock to the side of Harlan’s head.

  So seeing as how they were out in the middle of nowhere, and about as far from a lawyer as you could get without stepping foot on the moon, he didn’t figure the due process really applied right now.

  Sometimes a man had to do what a man had to do.

  He and Callie exchanged looks, then Harlan said, “Cal, maybe you should see if you can help Rusty round up the horses.”

  “I’m fine,” she told him.

  Harlan shook his head. “No, we’re talking plausible deniability here. The less eyes see what’s about to happen, the better chance we have of Landry’s complaint against us not holding up in court.”

  “What’s about to happen?” Landry asked, fear now etching his face.

  “Shut up, I’m not talking to you.” He looked at Callie again. “I mean it. Mr. Bickham and I need to have a private talk.”

  Callie didn’t budge. “What about Sheriff Mercer?”

  “In his condition I figure he’s got built-in deniability.”

  Callie considered this a moment, and he could see the conflict in her eyes. He was half convinced she wouldn’t go along, but then she said, “You know what?”

  “What?”

  “I think I just heard Rusty calling. Sounds like he needs my help.”

  Harlan nodded grimly. “Then I guess you’d better get moving.”

  They exchanged another look, and he could see the reluctance in her eyes, knew she wasn’t completely in love with this plan of attack, but then she was gone and Harlan returned his attention to Landry.

  “You touch me, you’ll regret it,” Bickham said. It was an empty threat and he knew it.

  Harlan didn’t respond with words. He casually reached forward and pinched Landry’s nose between his first and middle fingers. He squeezed and Landry howled, dropping to his knees, tears popping into his eyes.

  “Now, Landry, I couldn’t care less about the reason you’re here. I figure in that dim little brain of yours there’s some kind of motivation at work, but I’ll leave that for the forensic psychologists to decipher, assuming you’re still alive when we’re done.”

  Landry burbled something unintelligible but Harlan ignored him.

  “Now we can take you back to town and get you a lawyer and hope that lawyer will convince you to make a deal with us and tell us what we want to know. But I’ve been riding a horse all day long and dodging rocks and bullets, and I didn’t go through all that just to have to drag your sorry butt back home on the slim chance that you’ll cooperate. Especially whe
n one of those bullets has put a man I’ve come to respect in very serious danger.”

  Landry was moving his head around now, trying to break Harlan’s grip, but Harlan and his brother Sam had seen their share of Three Stooges movies and he’d had a lot of practice with the old knuckle pinch. And judging by the look on Landry’s face, fighting it was only making it hurt worse.

  After a moment he gave up, now squeezing his eyes shut against what Harlan had to think was pretty unbearable pain.

  “So here’s what you’re gonna do. From here on out, you’re gonna shut your mouth unless I ask you a question. And if I ask you one, you’ll answer me sincerely and without hesitation. You got that?”

  Landry tried to nod his head.

  “I’m glad we understand each other,” Harlan said, then released him. Landry collapsed to the ground, trying desperately to recover, fresh blood staining his upper lip.

  Harlan couldn’t help feeling a little bad about it. Under normal circumstances he wasn’t prone to violence, and he wasn’t particularly proud of what he’d just done. But these weren’t normal circumstances and considering what they’d been through, he figured his actions were more than justified.

  “You listening to me, Landry?”

  “Yes,” the old fool croaked.

  “Good,” Harlan said. “I want to you to lie there for a while, start feeling better. And once we’ve got the sheriff here squared away for travel, I’m gonna send him and Rusty and Callie on their way. Then you and I are gonna go visit that cabin. No more phony maps. No more ambushes. You understand?”

  “Yes,” Landry croaked. “I understand.”

  Harlan showed him a slow smile.

  “I figured you would.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Callie wasn’t having any of it.

  “No,” she said, adamantly. “I’m not leaving. Not now.”

  They had found Landry’s horse tied to a tree several yards from the spot where Harlan had snuck up on him. Harlan had uncuffed him just long enough to get him aboard, then snapped one cuff to the saddle horn and the other to his wrist.

  In the meantime Rusty and Callie had rounded up their own horses, found Harlan’s first aid kit and tended to Mercer’s wound before getting him ready for travel.

  Now Harlan was insisting that Callie go with Mercer and Rusty and leave him behind to deal with Landry and the fugitives.

  “That’s just not gonna happen,” she told him.

  “You trust Rusty to get the sheriff back in one piece?”

  “He can get him within cell phone range. After that he’ll call the medevac crew.”

  Callie wasn’t about to let Harlan shove her aside. Not now. She’d already gone along with his blatant disregard for due process and didn’t feel particularly good about it, even if it had resulted in Landry’s full cooperation. To her mind such behavior was a slippery slope, and she could only hope that this had been an exception rather than the rule.

  Harlan said, “Considering the amount of time we’ve wasted, it could be dark before we get to the hideout. I don’t think this is a place you want to be after sundown.”

  “You’re not changing my mind, Harlan. This is my investigation and I plan on seeing it through.”

  “It could get ugly.”

  “It already has,” she said. “And in case you haven’t noticed, I’ve managed to survive so far.”

  Harlan studied her for a moment, and a smile grew on his face.

  “What are you grinning about?”

  “To be perfectly honest,” he said, “I was hoping you’d fight me on this.”

  “Oh? Why?”

  “Despite our bickering, Cal, I kinda like working with you.” He sobered slightly. “I’m full of all kinds of regret, and I really wish it could’ve been this way all along. Lived that dream we always talked about. With or without Treacher.”

  Callie saw the sincerity in his expression. Knew the words were heartfelt. Tears unexpectedly threatened to fill her eyes, but she struggled to hold them back. She didn’t want anyone here seeing her cry.

  Especially Landry.

  But in that moment whatever animosity she’d felt toward Harlan dissolved. Disappeared. She didn’t know how long it would last, but it felt good to be free of it—even if only for a moment.

  “So do I,” she said softy. “So do I.”

  IT TOOK ANOTHER twenty minutes to get Rusty and Mercer on their way. Mercer’s bandage was bloody, but with the tourniquet still in place, the flow seemed to have stopped for now and he assured them he had enough strength to see himself through to the nearest cell zone. That he could even sit atop his horse in his condition was a testament to his iron will.

  “You be good to my gals,” he said, struggling with his pain. “They get hurt, there’ll be hell to pay.”

  Callie assured him they would, then watched the two men ride away, hoping against hope that they’d get the sheriff to safety before that wound started to bleed again.

  When they were gone, Harlan and Callie mounted their own horses, then Harlan turned to Landry. “Showtime, Bickham. You plan on keeping your promise, or do you need a little reminder?”

  Landry’s eyes widened slightly, his free hand moving involuntarily toward his nose, as if to protect it. Then he caught himself and scowled. “You better hope nothing goes wrong out there, son. If it does, you’re the first one on my list.”

  “Yeah? How’s that working out for you so far?”

  “Mark my words. You’re a dead man.”

  Harlan’s eyes glazed. “You know how many times I’ve been told that over the course of my career? I’ve transported men who’d make you pee your pants if you spent more than five minutes with them. So don’t for a second think you can intimidate me, Bickham. If anyone should worry about winding up dead, it’s you. I won’t hesitate to shoot you, if I have to.”

  Landry had lived nearly his entire life with the Pritchards, and some of their arrogance had obviously rubbed off on him.

  “You’re good when a man’s hands are cuffed,” he said. “But that bruise on your face tells a different story.”

  Callie cut in. “You know what, Landry?”

  He turned, scowled at her. “What?”

  “I think I like it better when you smile.”

  “I’ll bet you do,” he said. “Everybody does.”

  He let one spread across his face now, but it was so full of malice that the hairs on the back of her neck prickled.

  “Even your mother liked it,” he said quietly. “Did I ever tell you I knew her in high school?”

  Callie stiffened. “Not that I remember.”

  “Knew your daddy, too. Even before I started workin’ for the Pritchards. He and Mary were quite the couple. But old Jonah, well, he just couldn’t abide by some tramp corrupting his perfect little son.”

  “Call her that again,” Callie said, “and I’ll shoot you myself.”

  Landry shrugged. “It’s not like I’m the first one to say it. But I never felt any ill will toward her. Truth is, I had a crush on her. If things had been different, who knows? You might be calling me daddy.”

  The thought made Callie want to puke. But then it occurred to her that Landry was only trying to get a rise out of her. Keep her off guard and eventually he might be able to use her discomfort to make a move. She wasn’t sure how he’d do it with his hand cuffed to the saddle, but there was no point in taking chances, and she refused to let him get to her.

  “Nice try,” she said. “But my mother wouldn’t have come anywhere near you even if she was dying of thirst and you had a bucketful of water.”

  “Just shows how little you know. I’ll bet that grandma of yours painted a nice little picture.”

  “I think you need to shut up now.”

  “You’re completely clueless, aren’t you?”

  “Enough, Bickham,” Harlan barked. “Don’t make me pull you down off that horse.”

  Landry swiveled his head toward Harlan. “Hold on, now
, I think this girl deserves to know about her family. About her momma and her daddy.” He returned his attention to Callie. “You probably believe all that nonsense about Riley Pritchard getting himself killed in a truck accident.”

  “It’s the truth.”

  Landry chuckled. “The truth can be manufactured if you’ve got enough money. We all learn that every time we turn on the TV. But I know the real truth about your daddy, and if you want me to keep it to myself, I’ll respect your wishes. Let you go on believing in fairy tales.”

  Something sour turned in Callie’s stomach. She knew he was still playing with her, baiting her, but she also felt compelled to listen. Nana had never told her a whole lot about what had happened to her father, and she wondered if Landry really did know something.

  “Tell me,” she said.

  His smile widened, and she wondered why she had never noticed the ugliness behind it. “You sure you want to hear this?”

  “Tell me,” she said again.

  Harlan had good enough sense to stay quiet now. He would instinctively want to protect her, but he knew by the tone of her voice that this wasn’t the time to interfere.

  Landry said, “Like I told you, your daddy didn’t die in no truck accident.”

  “How, then?”

  He waited a moment for dramatic effect. “Boy up and killed himself. Slit his wrists, right there in his barracks.”

  Callie’s stomach flip-flopped and she felt prickles on her scalp. Could this be true?

  “How do you know that?”

  “Everybody in the Pritchard family knows it.”

  “I don’t understand. Why? Why would he do that? Because his father forced him to join the army?”

  “Jonah didn’t force him to do nothin’. He cherished that boy. Riley decided to run off on his own. When he found out about Mary.”

  “Because she was pregnant?”

  Landry huffed. “No, he was over the moon about that. You could barely contain the boy. He was gonna be a father.”

  Callie was at a loss. “Then why? Why would he run away?”

  “Because six months into her pregnancy, Mary told him the truth.”

  “About what?”