by Vella Day
“To be honest, Stanton figured you might be staying at Tom's father's place. I'm ashamed to admit that we got some intel that showed you hanging Gary Cho.”
Jake stepped away from Richard. “Me? You're shitting me, right? You think I killed Cho?” He tapped his chest, carrying his acting skills to a new level.
“I didn't want to believe it, but I saw a picture of you with one hand on the rope and Cho limp in your arms.”
He lowered his head as if to ponder the event. “How the hell did you get that picture?” Even Tom hadn't known the source.
“Someone sent it to me on my phone, but I couldn't trace the call. I wish to hell I knew who was right outside the cabin photographing you with Cho.”
That was the same story Tom relayed to him. Maybe it was true that Richard believed Jake was responsible for Cho's death.
He faced Richard. “Do you come all the way to Shepherds Hill to bring me in?” He tried to sound more taken aback than pissed.
“I wanted to hear your side of the story.”
Bullshit. “You come alone?”
“No. Stanton is with the man you trapped. He's getting him help.”
“I didn't kill Cho, you know. I found him swinging and took him down.”
Richard's shoulders slumped. “I know that now.”
“You do?” Richard sincerity had a ring of truth to it.
“We found Ronnie Stenoff. He told us what happened.”
“Who?”
“The blonde guy who attacked you in the cabin. The one you trapped. He confessed. Said he'd been hired by Dominick Francisco to kill Susan Chapman. You happened to be in the way.”
Jake wished he could see Richard's eyes. “Did Stenoff tell you he and Dominick were the ones responsible for killing the jurors?”
“He told me Francisco killed Cho.”
“So why come after me now if you know I had nothing to do with the hanging?”
“To tell you don't need to run anymore.” He latched onto Jake's arm a little too aggressively. “Come on back to the cabin. We'll drive you to a hospital.”
How the hell had he known he was running? Richard wouldn't have known he knew the FBI was after him unless Tom blabbed he'd relayed the Cho hanging to him.
“Sounds good to me.” Jake pretended to stumble as they turned around. “Can you find me a stick or two to lean on?” He'd left his walking pole back with Susan.
“Sure.”
Jake limped over to a tree and leaned against the rough bark. Richard's light scoured the forest floor allowing Jake to follow the man's every moment. A small animal darted across the path and Jake's pulse skyrocket. He needed to get a grip.
“Here ya go.” Richard handed Jake two four-foot long sticks.
“Perfect.” Jake motioned Richard ahead.
The moment Richard's back was turned, Jake lifted the stick and swung, knocking Richard to the ground. “Sorry.”
Richard grabbed his neck and tried to get up. Before the agent could get to his feet, Jake hogged tied his feet and pulled Richard's hands behind his back to secure them.
“What the hell are you doing?” Richard said, panic evident in his quick words.
“I know you still think I had something to do with those murders, but I didn't.”
“No. No. I know someone tried to frame you. You've got to believe me.” From the way his voice wavered, Jake was tempted to see it his way.
“As soon as I get out of here, I'll send help for you.” Jake took Richard's gun. “I promise.”
Richard rolled on his back. “You know you'll lose your job over this.”
“Better than losing my life.”
“You can't leave me here.”
“Watch me.”
Jake trotted off toward Susan, his leg suddenly in better shape with his newfound freedom.
Given Richard was out of commission for a few hours, he chanced using the light once he was out of sight. He shone the beam down the slope to his right looking for their large rock, while ignoring Richard's screams for help.
For a moment, Jake questioned if he'd misjudged the man. It was possible, but he couldn't take the chance.
He spotted the rock where he'd left Susan, and half slid, half strode down the side of the hill. When he reached their hiding place, his backpack was against the rock, but Susan was nowhere in sight.
23
Jake's heart cracked. He swept the light around for a clue where Susan might have gone. Pine scented the blowing wind and icy cold air jammed down his throat. She was too bright to attempt to find her way out of the forest on her own. She didn't know the paths, the forks, the cutoffs, or the direction of the highway. Without a map, she'd get hopelessly lost. Add in her fear of the dark, and he expected her to be balled up in the fetal position waiting for his return.
Wait a minute. Had she thought Richard had captured him, and her only hope of survival was to flee on her own? Or had she believed he and Richard were in cahoots to take her down? Surely, she trusted him more than that.
She must have had a good reason to leave.
His body shook as other images of abandonment assaulted him. He could still see his mother lying with man after man. The vision then switched to her dead body collapsed on the floor of their small apartment. Finally, he could see the faces of both his aunt and grandmother as they refused to take him in.
People were false. He grew up not being able to count on anyone or anything other than his gut instinct. When Richard showed up, he'd even wondered if Tom had betrayed him. How else had they found them?
Enough. Susan wasn't like them. They had a connection. She wouldn't have made love to him in the cabin if she didn't trust or believe in him. She was missing, and he wouldn't abandon her, even if he'd just broken the law by hog-tying an FBI agent.
With her backpack missing, he assumed she'd taken off on her own. No way would someone else be out here looking for her. He doubted Richard had notified the locals to keep a watch out for Susan or him. Even if he had, the sheriff would have been smart enough to hike in from the highway entrance. Is that what happened? Had Sheriff Stukes found Susan and escorted her out?
No. The good sheriff wouldn't have believed the word of an FBI agent unless he checked with Tom or Hank Traynor first. Jake was like a local to the people of Shepherds Hills.
He chanced a call, loud enough for her to hear, assuming she was nearby, but not so loud Richard would realize Susan was still alive. “Susan?”
He stilled, listening for some kind of movement. The trees creaked in the wind and blocked out most sound. Where the hell was she?
Twigs cracked in front and to his right of him. Jake froze. He pointed the beam toward the copse of trees hoping to capture the animal in the light. From behind a large oak, Susan stepped into the open and shielded her eyes.
His relief nearly dropped him to the ground. “Susan, it's Jake.” He lowered the light's ray to the ground.
“Jake?” She raced up to meet him and threw her arms around his neck. “I was so worried.”
“Where were you?” He hugged her tight. “You left our rock.”
“I had to take a pee. Tell me what happened with Thomason.”
He debated how much to tell her, not wanting her to be involved in his crime. “Let's just say Richard Thomason won't be bothering us.”
“You killed him?” She pushed away.
Her action stung. “No. I merely incapacitated him. Don't worry. Stanton's nearby.”
“Where?”
“Shh. He might hear us.”
“You left him to freeze to death?”
Ever the prosecutor. “No. When Richard doesn't return with my head, Stanton will go looking for him. When that happens, they're sure to come searching for us.”
“Did they still plan on taking you in?”
“Richard claimed he believed I had nothing to do with Cho's death. The blonde fellow who attacked me said Francisco killed Cho.”
“Did Richard believe him?”
> “He said he did, but I don't know how much I can trust him.”
She planted her hands on her hips in her usual Susan pose. “Now we have to avoid not only the FBI and the Caravello family, but also the Francisco family?”
“I'm afraid so.” He dragged a hand down her smooth cheek. “As soon as we get back to Washington, I'll find some answers, and we'll sort all of this out. Are you ready for the hike?”
She groaned. “Remind me never to go on a picnic with you again.”
He inwardly chuckled at her attempt at levity.
The next six hours were hell. His leg throbbed, and from the way she favored one leg and then the other, her feet were bothering her, but she didn't complain. To keep from focusing on their injuries or what awaited them in the real world, they talked about the home comforts they missed the most, as well as their best and worst cases. He enjoyed seeing another side of Susan Chapman, lawyer extraordinaire.
Headlights flashed in the distance and he chanced his normal tone. “We're getting close.”
“I can't believe we're going to make it. My legs are rubber and my muscles need a good massage.”
He'd been about to say he'd do the honors of rubbing her down, but talking about their feelings or any future plans wasn't appropriate, especially since their emotions were still so raw from all the deaths.
They finally emerged from the forest and tromped down the wooden steps to the side of the road.
“Are we going to hitchhike?” she asked.
He smiled down at her. “You have a better idea?”
“No.” She slapped his arm, and he hid his smile.
The sun was peeking over the horizon. He wanted to find a ride before they became sitting ducks for any law enforcement agency.
“We need to head east,” he said more to himself than to inform Susan.
A truck passed them and they stuck out their thumbs. The man slowed, and then an arm waved them on.
“Say goodbye to the forest,” he said.
“Good riddance.”
He laughed, falling a little more in love with her.
**
The phone call rattled Joseph out of a deep sleep. He glanced at the caller ID but didn't recognize the number.
“Francisco.”
“Mr. Francisco. This is Gina Stenoff.”
“Who?”
“My husband, Ronnie, works for your son.”
Joseph pulled himself up to a sitting position and turned on the bedside lamp. “Oh, Ronnie, yes.”
What the hell was she calling for at seven in the morning?
“Ronnie called me from North Carolina. He's in jail.”
Shit. “And my son?”
“I'm so sorry.”
Joseph's hand clutched the phone tight. “Sorry about what? Calling so early?”
“Ronnie isn't quite sure what happened, but he said Jake Yarnell shot and killed Dominick. The FBI found the body in the woods.”
Joseph dropped the phone, her words echoing in his head.
Dominick was dead. His son had always been a screw up, but he was his screw up. He loved his son and his son loved him. He'd spent his life trying to build a safe world for him and Maria. And now Jake Yarnell had taken that life from him.
He wiped the tear brimming on his lid. The woman's voice came through the line again, but he disconnected. He didn't want her sympathy or deal with her husband's problems. God knows, he had enough of his own.
He let the self pity twist into rage. Now more than ever, he wanted revenge.
Richard Thomason was his only hope. The bastard better take down Yarnell or the punk would never see his kids again. Joseph never planned to harm the young things after he took the children, but that was before he'd learned his only son was gone.
His pulse raced. That wasn't true. James was his own flesh and blood. The man had been willing to frame his own half brother for a piece of the Francisco pie. He bet he'd be willing to do one last deed.
With renewed hope, he called James.
**
“Sorry about the cramped space,” the mountain man said.
Jake had been hesitant to hitch a ride in a car with two large dogs caged in back, but a ride was a ride. Fugitives couldn't be picky. He slid in first since he didn't want Susan to have to sit next to Mr. Snaggletooth. Unfortunately, they had to go without their seatbelts since the front seat was designed for two.
She might be slim hipped, but she had to sit slightly sideways to even fit. Without asking, he lifted her left leg and placed it over his right to give them more room. She smiled and he dropped his head back against the seat.
“We're you going to?” the driver asked.
“As far as you can take us. We're heading to the DC area.” No need to give specifics.
“I'm not going that far, but I can take you as far as Moorefield.”
He had no idea where that was, but east was east. “Perfect.”
After fifteen minutes, Susan's body began to relax. She dropped her head on his shoulders, and for the first time in a long time, he allowed his bunched muscles to release their grip.
When the dogs barked in the back at the passing traffic, the driver knuckled the window separating the cab from the back.
“Sorry about that. They can't wait to go hunting.”
“Ah.”
Jake figured the less he said the better. He didn't want the driver to remember much more than he picked up two hitchhikers—one with a bloodied leg and a large gash in his cheek.
Snaggletooth clicked on the radio. Country Western. No surprise. Jake closed his eyes and let his mind drift until the music ended and a man's voice droned the news.
“...Jake Yarnell and Taylor Daniels are wanted in the connection of the murder of an FBI witness.”
Jake shot straight up, reached over, and turned down the radio. “I've been thinking about getting me some huntin' dawgs. What's the best breed?”
The man sat up taller in the seat and started yammering about his animals. Susan must have heard the radio announcement for her hand gripped his.
She straightened and leaned forward. “Sir?”
“Call me Randy.”
“Randy, I'm sorry to ask, but we've been hiking for several hours. Is there any way we could stop since—?”
“If you gotta take a leak, just say so, little lady. I'm not in a big hurry. Only the dogs are.”
She smiled. “Thank you.”
Snaggletooth leaned over and turned up the volume. Shit.
“The man is thirty three, six foot two with short cropped hair. The woman is—”
“How much further?” Susan asked, loud enough to cover the radio voice.
“I can stop by the side of the road if that would help?”
The alert ended.
“I can wait. Thanks.”
She glanced over at Jake and motioned with her eyes they needed to find a way out. Before Jake could formulate a clear plan, a gas station came into view.
The mountain man turned left and pulled up to the pump. “I gotta get gas anyway.”
After Susan opened the creaky door and stepped out, Jake scouted over. His boot hit the pavement and his knee buckled, but he caught himself on the door.
“You okay, mister?”
“Just stiff from a lot of hiking.”
Jake stepped to the back to retrieve his backpack, and both dogs snarled. “Easy fellas.”
“They won't hurt you. Especially since they're caged.” The man chuckled. He tapped the cage. “You boys hungry?”
Both dogs barked and seemed to lose interest in protecting their territory.
Jake lifted their packs and handed Susan hers.
“You can leave them here. I'll watch them.”
“My money's inside,” Jake said.
Susan chimed in. “I need mine for, ah, female reasons.”
It was hard to tell in the morning light, but underneath the beard, Jake could have sworn the guy blushed.
As they headed towa
rd the small store inside, Jake threaded his arms through the straps on his pack. Their strides were slow and even to avoid looking like they were trying to run away.
He leaned over to her. “If you need to go to the bathroom, make it quick. I need to find a way out back.”
“I'm good.”
“Then grab some food. We might be on our own for a while.” He took off his pack and dug his hand in the side pocket. “Here's the last of the cash. Use it wisely.”
She raced off. Her focus and her ability to understand the ramifications of his requests drew him more to her. Susan was an amazing woman.
The back entrance was easy to find. The door was next to the bathrooms. Perfect.
He stepped back into the main store area and glanced out the windows. Snaggletooth had finished filling up.
“Susan.” He attempted to keep the urgency from his tone, not wanting to alarm anyone else in the store.
She held up a finger to indicate she'd heard, grabbed her change, and hurried toward him with her purchases in hand. He motored toward the back, presumably to use the bathroom.
He pushed open the back door and the cold air blasted him. Just as he'd warmed up, they were on the run again. Damn.
Behind the store was a copse of trees, and beyond the small forest were a few farmhouses. As if he was in the Army again, he waved her away from the building. He wouldn't be surprised if their driver came looking for them so they needed to move fast. Jake would be the hold up with his bum leg.
With teeth clenched, he led the way. This time there was no neat path maintained by the forest service. Downed limbs, prickly weeds, and basic scrub brush blocked their path every few feet. The going was tough, but Susan didn't say a word. She tripped and went down on her knees once but then managed to keep going.
Shouts sounded from the direction of the gas station. He prayed Snaggletooth would assume he'd done something offensive to drive them off or that his passengers were two crazy people hell bent on a new adventure.
In less than ten minutes, they'd fought their way through the woods. About six houses, all fenced in, sat on one hundred acres.
They halted. Susan dropped her hands on her knees, her breaths coming out too rapidly. “Now what?”