“You mean from a bank or a store? Not that I’m aware, but like I said, Darius didn’t share much about himself. I knew he brushed the law with his drugs and stole things from people, but we never discussed it. I suppose he could have had it in him to steal money. He stole other things. When we were in high school he broke into homes. Stealing money would boost his ego and his reputation, wouldn’t it? If he had money. He used to talk like he had more than he actually did.” She nodded. “Yes, I can see Darius stealing money.”
“Would you mind if we had a look around?” Jamie asked. “If he was here, maybe there’s something he left behind that will help us find him.”
Reese was glad he asked. Maybe they’d find something useful.
“Oh.” The woman stood. “There’s no need for you to look around. He did leave something behind, from that trip he took all those years ago. Wait here.”
Darius’s sister returned with an old photograph envelope, torn and worn, and handed it to Reese. “I told him he left them behind but he never came to get them and I didn’t think to send them to him. I forgot all about them the last time he came to visit, the last time I saw him.” She looked off again.
Jamie moved closer to see the photos with Reese. The first one slammed home the gold mine they’d struck. The picture was of the missing girl with Darius. She’d gone on the road trip with him.
* * *
Jamie didn’t alarm Reese by telling her he thought someone was watching them. He stood by a front window at the sheriff’s office. A man in a car with dark tinted windows had been parked there for about an hour now. He must have noticed Jamie. The car pulled out into the street and passed. Jamie couldn’t tell if the driver looked at him, but he didn’t move from his post until he could no longer see the vehicle.
He turned and headed back to Reese’s desk, the office manager, Margaret, eyeing him as he did. He’d like to know why someone other than Christopher Bishop had shown up. Bishop was still locked in jail. A feeling began to spread that neither Bishop’s reason for being here, nor the sudden appearance of this stranger, had anything to do with Eva’s murder.
“Something wrong?”
He’d come to a stop at Reese’s desk, still in deep thought. “No.” He’d tell her when he was sure. Or when he could no longer deny it...
She resumed typing, the sound echoing in the open room. Other than Margaret, they were alone. They had left Durango yesterday. Now they were searching surrounding counties for more murders. Paula was still a missing person, dead or alive. So far nothing had come up.
“I think I may have found something,” Reese said.
He perked up and went around to the other side of her desk, leaning his hand on a shallow stack of papers. Reese glanced over at his hand and then her gaze went up his arm to his shoulder and then met his face. She did that a lot—stroked him with hot eyes, albeit involuntary. He moved a little closer to her, lowering his head, testing her. Her eyes widened and she turned to the computer.
Holding back a small chuckle, he looked at her screen.
“This is an email from the Alamosa Police Department.”
Jamie read that a woman had been murdered in Alamosa and her body had never been identified. Reese had emailed a copy of a photo of Paula, and the detective confirmed she was his Jane Doe. Paula had been murdered. Cause of death was blunt-force trauma. She’d been stripped of all her clothes and dumped on the side of a road near the Alamosa National Wildlife Refuge. No murder weapon was found, but there was evidence she’d recently had sex. Whether forced or consensual, the coroner couldn’t be sure. DNA was on file, but like Ella’s case, no match had been found.
“Paula’s mother reported her missing. Why didn’t the San Diego police find her here?”
“She was murdered forty years ago,” Reese said, looking up at him again. “There were no missing persons databases back then.”
He still thought that was lazy police work.
“I’ll ask him to give us DNA to compare the DNA found at Ella’s crime scene,” Reese said.
That would take some time.
Hearing the front door open, Jamie looked and saw a man enter and approach the reception desk. In jeans and a white shirt with the jacket open in front, he walked in smooth, slow steps. He had medium brown hair and dark eyes popping out from pocked, dark-complexioned skin.
“Hello,” he said to the office manager, Margaret.
“Can I help you?” she asked.
The man pulled out a gun. “Yes. You can stand up and move around the counter.”
Margaret inhaled sharply and sat frozen in fear.
Jamie withdrew his gun at the same time Reese did, but neither of them lifted their weapons in time.
The man held up his hand at them, pistol aimed at Margaret’s head. “I’ll kill her.”
“Please...” the woman begged. She looked over at Jamie and Reese.
Jamie’s stomach turned with a plummet of dread. He could not allow an innocent woman to die. If he shot him, would he be fast enough? He couldn’t take that risk.
“Put your weapons down,” the man said.
The man’s gun had a silencer on it. “Leave her be,” Jamie said, walking around the side of the desk. “You can have me instead.”
“Take another step and the lady is dead.”
Jamie stopped, hands raised to shoulder height. Reese held her pistol with both hands, but at a downward angle. She’d managed to stand but hadn’t raised the gun to aim it.
“Put your weapons down.”
When Jamie and Reese didn’t move or do as ordered, the man lowered his gun just enough and fired. The office manager screamed as a hole ripped through her shoulder.
Jamie took one automatic step toward Margaret before he stopped again, hearing Reese’s strangled sound of alarm.
The woman stumbled backward against the wall, breathing fast and looking down in horror at her shoulder. She put her hand over the wound and looked at Jamie with a silent plea for help.
The gunman eyed him with blatant challenge. Jamie could see he would do whatever it took to get what he’d come for.
“The next one is in her head,” he said.
Jamie put his gun on Reese’s desk and she did the same, sharing a desperate look with him. He berated himself for not keeping watch for the man. He shouldn’t have assumed he’d gone. But how could he have predicted he’d come right into the sheriff’s building and take a hostage?
The man walked around the counter and hooked his arm around the woman’s neck, pressing the gun to her temple. “If you want to live, you’ll do exactly as I say,” he said to the woman.
She nodded, grimacing in pain.
“Take me to Christopher Bishop.”
He was here to break Bishop out of jail?
The woman walked forward, blood soaking her hand, partially covered by the man’s arm.
Jamie followed, making sure Reese stayed behind him. The gunman forced Margaret through the open desk area to a locked door. The other half of the sheriff’s building was the jailhouse.
The office manager’s fingers trembled as she used the keys she always carried to open the door. Inside, three of the eight cells were occupied, the first containing Christopher Bishop. Dressed in an orange jumpsuit, he sat up from a reclined position on the narrow bed. Smiling, he stood and went to the barred door.
“Unlock the cell,” the gunman demanded. He had a military-soldier way about him, only not the reputable kind. He had the eyes and tactics of a mercenary.
Reese looked at Jamie, who nodded once. They had to do as the man said until their circumstances changed.
The office manager trembled as she watched Reese unhook keys from her gear belt. As she unlocked the cell, Bishop’s arrogant gaze passed from her to Jamie. When the door clicked, Bishop slid it open.
“It’s about time you got here, Holcomb,” Bishop said to the gunman, stepping out of the cell. “I was beginning to think you forgot the agreement.”
“The agreement has not been forgotten.” He lifted the hem of his shirt to reveal another gun.
Bishop pulled it free of the waist of his pants and readied it to fire. He aimed it at Jamie’s head.
“The keys.” Holcomb held out his hand, still pressing the pistol to Margaret’s head. “Give them to me.”
Reese extended her hand with the keys. Jamie took them from her and handed them to the man.
He snatched them. “Get in the cell.”
If he went into the cell he’d be powerless to help anyone.
“I will kill this woman if you don’t do what I say.”
Bishop stepped forward, the pistol in line with his forehead.
With his gut telling him these men would kill them all if they had to, Jamie fought his urge to fight. He could take Bishop’s gun from him and shoot the other man, but probably not before Margaret was shot. The office manager was dispensable to them. She was not dispensable to Jamie.
Taking Reese’s hand, he started to pull her ahead of him.
“Not her,” Holcomb said.
Jamie stopped, intense dread driving him to take drastic action. No way would he allow them to take Reese.
“She comes with us,” Holcomb said.
He moved to face both men. “I’m afraid I can’t let you do that.”
Holcomb smirked.
“He thinks he’s going to stop us,” Bishop said, laughing cynically.
“She won’t be harmed as long as you do what we tell you.”
As if he’d ever believe that. What did Stankovich have planned? Something awful. Torturous. For Jamie. And he’d use Reese to accomplish it. Why the change from attempting to kill them to this, taking Reese alive and leaving him?
“You’re going to have to go through me first.”
Holcomb pressed on the gun trigger.
The woman squeezed her eyes shut and sobbed. “Please...no.”
“It’s okay, Jamie.” Reese moved out from behind him and paused to look into his eyes. “I’ll go.”
He saw her boundless strength and confidence and felt love mushroom inside him...now, of all times. He admired her grit, and yes, even her independence. He realized that was the one thing that had drawn him to her. He’d never met any other woman like her.
Silently she communicated what he should have already determined, had he not been so urgently trying to protect her. These men were taking her for a reason. And while Reese didn’t know about Stankovich, the men he’d sent would have killed them by now if that had been his intent.
Jamie looked at Holcomb. “What do you want?”
“You will know soon enough.”
Bishop took hold of Reese and held the gun to her head, leading her out the door through to the sheriff’s office. As soon as the men had their new hostage, Holcomb pushed Margaret into the cell. She cried out in pain as she landed on her hip.
“Is it the money?” Jamie asked, stalling.
“Get in the cell.”
Jamie didn’t move.
Holcomb’s eyes moved in annoyance before meeting his again. “I think we both know how this works.” He aimed his pistol at Margaret again.
Jamie had no choice. With one last glance at Reese, seeing her nod in reassurance, he stepped into the cell.
As Holcomb closed and locked the cell, Jamie waited for him to raise his eyes.
“I’m going to kill you.”
The man faltered ever so slightly. He must have known the kind of man he faced. Stankovich would have told him all about how he’d stripped him of his power to control him.
Holcomb started to turn away.
“What does Stankovich want?” Jamie hated even speaking the name.
The man paused and met Jamie’s gaze. “You know.”
Chapter 11
Reese’s apprehension mounted as Bishop drove out of Never Summer. From the sheriff’s building, no one saw the men put her into the backseat of a sedan with dark windows. People had walked along the sidewalk across the street but hadn’t looked her way. And now they drove her along a dirt road just off the highway without covering her eyes. She’d seen them and she’d know where they were taking her. Did that mean they didn’t plan on letting her go alive?
Through the windshield she spotted an abandoned mine that appeared to have undergone some renovations. The old wood structure must have been torn down and a new one had been erected to resemble a house. A double front door with two windows on each side almost looked welcoming.
The car stopped and Bishop and Holcomb got out, Bishop opening the back door with his gun drawn. She got out and he pushed her toward the doors. Her legs felt rubbery as she neared. What awaited her inside? She didn’t want to find out.
Stopping abruptly, she grabbed Bishop’s gun hand and moved her body to heft him over her shoulder. He landed with a thud on the gravel driveway that extended all the way to the front door. Holcomb swung his gun to hit her but she came up from dumping Bishop to block him with her arm. The impact stung. She ignored the pain and kicked him in the groin. He went down holding his crotch and groaning in agony.
Bishop recovered from his fall, rising to his feet.
Reese bolted. She ran as fast as she could toward the trees. If she could make it to the highway and flag down a car...
Hearing footsteps behind her, she pushed herself harder. She reached the trees and had to slow down to avoid colliding with trunks. Dodging back and forth, weaving her way through the thick understory, she heard a car pass on the highway. A ray of hope soared through her. She jumped over a fallen log. Glancing back, she saw Bishop gaining on her. The look back cost her. She faced forward and barely had time to clear another fallen log. She landed unsteadily and stumbled. Nearly going down, she pushed off a tree and ran harder.
Bishop was right behind her now. She heard his exerted breathing and rapid footfalls. She pushed herself as fast as she could go, but he was faster. She felt him claw at her shirt. Then her arm. He clasped his hand around her wrist and pulled.
Reese lost her balance as Bishop twisted her. She fell onto her back and tumbled. Rolling foot-over-head, she came down on a deeply buried boulder that dug painfully into her back. She tried to prevent her head from striking but it slammed down, blacking out her vision for a few seconds.
Bishop straddled her on his feet, bending for her arms and yanking her up. She yanked back and his grip slipped. She started to use her legs to trip him off his feet when he swung his fist and hit the side of her face. Her head knocked against the boulder again.
Reese groaned with pain and disorientation. She struggled to stay in the fight but Bishop hauled her up to her feet. She sagged against him, dizzy.
“Start walking.” He shoved her.
She stumbled, head swimming, but managed to stay on her feet.
“Try something like that again and I’ll just shoot you.”
“No, you won’t. You’re the underling, right?” She looked back to see his sneer.
She faced forward and walked through the forest. “How did a thug like you end up here?”
“Just keep walking.”
“Kidnapping could get you life if I’m harmed. Class one felony. Class two will get you eight to twenty-four. You like prison? I hear the food is pretty bad. Nothing like going out whenever you feel like it for Mexican or Chinese. You’re talking meat, potatoes and vegetables. Cereal for breakfast. Sandwiches for lunch, probably really dry and tasteless. And forget happy hour with friends. All
those fun little things you took for granted will be taken away from you.”
“Shut up.”
“You hit me back there, so it’ll probably be life. Death penalty if you kill me, which you might do, but not now. You’d have done it already.” Whoever waited inside the mine house might, though.
“Where are you from?” she asked. Maybe if she got enough information she might be able to do something about it—assuming she escaped alive.
“Not here.”
“Who sent you and your idiot friend?”
He didn’t respond so she went on.
“How did you wind up on the wrong side of the law? Were your parents criminals? Dad left when you were little? Didn’t get enough love from Mommy?”
“I said shut up.” He shoved her again. “So shut it, or I’ll hit you more than once. Stankovich doesn’t care if you’re bruised and bleeding, just alive.”
“Stankovich, huh?” That came as quite a shock. While she hadn’t thought the two of them or the one inside the mine house were related to the Neville case, she would never have connected Jamie’s past to them.
Holcomb appeared ahead.
“Thanks for the help,” Bishop said.
“That’s payback for getting yourself arrested.”
Bishop grunted in irritation and Holcomb took up step beside her.
“Try that again and you’ll get more than that bruise on your cheek,” he said.
“That’s what your idiot partner told me.”
He eyed her in offense for a bit, as though deciding if he’d give her another bruise, but then faced forward.
As they emerged from the forest and saw the mine house, her unease mounted. Jamie had explained the kind of man Stankovich was. She was a small-town deputy sheriff. She was no match for the leader of a gang of mercenaries.
Holcomb opened one of the doors and Bishop shoved her forward. She found herself standing in a big open area, a kitchen with all the modern conveniences to the left and a living room with a giant television hanging on the wall to the right. Straight back, a hall led into the mountain. She could see doors off the hall and presumed those were the bedrooms.
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