Purgatory (Colorado series)

by Denise Moncrief

  As she turned away, Steve tried to get her attention by clearing his throat, but she refused to glance at him. Finally, he resorted to speaking. “Chris?”

  She turned on him. “I’m not Chris.” Hurling her words at him with a hint of spite, trying to convey a different message with her eyes, she continued her play-acting for Cory’s benefit. “My name is Carol, but most people call me Carrie.”

  Steve seemed puzzled. She had insisted she wasn’t Carol. Now she was insisting she was. Her actions probably confused him, but she continued with her plan anyway.

  “My sister was your wife. She was using my name, but she’s the woman you married.” She added just enough acid to her tone to lend her comments credibility with Cory. “We couldn’t let you figure out we were twins.”

  “Oh, really? Why not?” Steve’s cutting tone pierced her heart.

  “She couldn’t use her own name, because I met you first. I couldn’t marry you, because I’m… I was already married to Jeff. If you found out about me, it would have ruined everything.”

  “Ruined what?” Steve hurled his question at her. She knew what he meant. He wanted her to define what had been done to him. The four of them had ruined his life. Now, one of them might be taking his life.

  “It was a con, Steve. All we ever wanted from you was your money. And we got it.” She tried to contradict her bald assertion with her eyes, but her words appeared to stun him. Disgust flashed in his eyes. He turned away from her. His rejection crushed her.

  She had to play the game. She had to make Cory believe she was Carol, no matter that it ruined her credibility with Steve. If it saved Steve’s life, it was worth losing his trust. It was the only way to keep them both alive. If Cory realized she was Crystal, he wouldn’t waste any time killing her or Steve.

  Cory didn’t have a problem killing.

  In stark images, she remembered lying on the ditch’s edge watching Carol help the men dig the shallow grave. Chris had hugged the ground, careful to stay out of sight. Without a doubt, Cory had meant the grave for her. Cory and Jeff were not circumspect about their distaste for her and their inclination to get her out of the way. Until Cory’s spiteful revelation, she had believed Carol dug the grave under duress. She never wanted to believe her sister was culpable or the one pushing for her death. Her mind still rebelled at the thought Carol betrayed her…that her sister wanted her dead.

  She should be dead instead of Carol. It was her salvation and her shame. She was alive because she pretended to be Carol. Her sister died because she pretended to be Chris. Identical twins. Their wedding rings identified them. Switching the rings confused their identities—confused everything.

  Now that she started following memory’s trail, her mind wouldn’t allow her to detour. The images came back to her clear as crystal. She could see Cory hit Carol in the back of the head with the spade. Carol’s eyes pop wide with sudden understanding. Her half-turn in a futile attempt to defend herself. The final crash of the blade against her head. Once Carol was on the ground, he hit her over and over, apparently making sure the damage was complete. His cousin, Jeff, Carol’s husband, had stood nearby watching. Did Jeff realize he was watching his cousin murder his wife?

  Chris wasn’t involved in the slaying, but the fact she was aware of the kidnapping plot incriminated her. At first, her mental confusion and the horror she witnessed had immobilized her. But then she ran. She left Virginia without reporting Carol’s murder. She was running when she crashed the Jeep. She wanted to run now.

  But Cory had other plans. “Let’s go,” he commanded with a wave of the gun.

  There was no more time for reflection. With sheer force of will, Chris pulled her mind back to the present. Cory’s menacing presence was too real, and she had to concentrate with all of her dwindling energy to deal with his constant threat.

  ****

  Searching for the Jeep in the dense forest seemed an impossible task. So Chris couldn’t believe they found it. The wreck was just up the hill, hanging from a boulder, nose down in the surging water, miles from the highway. She guessed it must have traveled even further downstream and deeper into the wilderness every winter as rain and snowmelt swelled the creek with run-off. She led them to a narrow ledge across from the precariously situated Jeep and shuddered. She had almost lost her life in it. She could still lose her life because of it.

  Cory busted into her thoughts. “Okay, where’s the money?”

  She didn’t hesitate. “It’s in the gas can.” Steve stared at her in surprise. She shrugged in answer to his unspoken question.

  “Go out there and get it,” Cory ordered Steve.

  “No. You go get it.” How did Steve have the courage to refuse? She admired his presence of mind in the face of certain death.

  “Do as I say or Carol gets hurt.” Cory shifted his aim from Steve. She backed away from Cory and the gun.

  “You won’t hurt her.”

  She gasped at Steve’s apparent lack of concern. Surely, he knew better.

  “What do I care if you do something to her? The two of you killed my wife, took my money, and robbed me of five years of my life. I don’t really care what happens to either of you. You deserve each other.”

  She shot him an incredulous look. He caught it and turned away, his indifferent reaction to her fate so unexpected. She was sure she hadn’t completely convinced Cory of her allegiance, but had she succeeded in convincing Steve she was on Cory’s side? Was her dangerous ploy backfiring? Cory put the nose of the gun to her temple.

  ****

  Steve waded into the icy rapids, his eyes on the Jeep. He couldn’t feel his already frozen limbs, but stifled a scream as the water hit his upper body. He wouldn’t give Cory the satisfaction of seeing his misery.

  The rushing water slammed him into the rock, and the impact winded him. He shook his head and clung to the boulder until he regained his equilibrium. When he pulled up on the Jeep, it shifted. He lost his balance and grabbed the spare tire, wrapping his arms around it. The rigging swung back and forth, dangling him over the surging stream. When it stopped swaying, he used the tire to pull himself into the back of the Jeep.

  Once he located the gas can, he unbolted it, held it against his chest, and jumped back into the creek. His knees buckled as he hit the rocky bottom of the creek bed. The torrent rushed around him. He was barely able to keep his head above water, his stiff fingers cramping as he clung to the gas can. He managed to get to his feet and struggled toward the bank, the rapids rushing his back, almost knocking him down.

  It amazed him the can hadn’t fallen out of the Jeep during its travels through the wilderness. And it hadn’t burned to a crisp. It seemed suspiciously light. Surely, the can was much too small to hold so much cash.

  “Give it to me,” Cory demanded as Steve approached the edge of the creek.

  Greed must have clouded Cory’s judgment. He didn’t anticipate Steve’s plan. He swam downstream a little way until he found footing on the rocky bank.

  “Where do you think you’re going? Come back here,” Cory shouted at him.

  There was just enough ground to crawl out of the creek. Steve stood up on shaky legs, water streaming from his face, his wet clothes clinging to his body.

  Cory screamed as he made his way along the rock-strewn bank toward Steve. For some strange reason, Chris followed Cory instead of running the other way. Steve wanted to yell at her to run, but didn’t want to draw Cory’s attention back to her.

  As Cory approached, Steve used all his strength to shove the tank into Cory’s mid-section. Cory folded in the middle and dropped the gun. It clattered against the rocks and landed at Chris’s feet. Chris grabbed the gun and threw it into the creek, watching it travel on the surface until it sank into the water’s turbulent depths. The loss of the gun evened the odds.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Steve screamed something at Chris. Her mind was already demanding she run. It didn’t take much to convince her to follow her gut instinc
t. She plunged headfirst into hysteria.

  She climbed down the gorge toward the train track and safety, craving the security of solid ground beneath her feet. If I can just make it to the train track, I can get out of these rocks and climb on more solid ground. If I can just get to the train track, I’ll be all right. If I can just get to the train track…

  The crash and groan of flesh hitting flesh echoed from the gorge behind her, followed by mutters, curses, grunts, and groans. Something heavy splashed into the creek. Had the gas can fallen into the water? A new spasm of hysteria gripped her mind. She thought she heard Steve call her name, but she didn’t care. She refused to turn back.

  She felt nothing except the urgent need to flee. She hardly noticed the rocks abusing her hands and knees. Blood covered her from head to toe. She forgot how cold and hungry she was. She forgot everything except running. Just like the last time.

  When she reached the footbridge, she bent and leaned her hands on her forelegs. The previous night’s snowfall had already melted and left the top of the bridge a sloppy mess. She stayed there a second or two, gazing into the river before she plunged ahead. Her only conscious thoughts were of the desperate need for rest and the urgent need to keep going.

  As she began the arduous uphill climb out of the Animas River valley toward the highway, she groaned at the ordeal ahead. It would take hours to regain the highway. She pushed the upsetting thought aside and focused on placing one foot in front of the other, refusing to consider the hopelessness of her situation. She was so tired and disoriented that every footfall was an effort. If I go to sleep, when I wake up, will this be only a nightmare? The thought of going to sleep was so tempting.

  Her breathing became more shallow and ragged as she gained higher and higher elevations. She coughed once—a deep rattle from inside her chest. Then a series of hoarse coughs followed. She leaned over, trying to catch her breath. She felt like retching, but there was nothing in her stomach. Shaky from dehydration and the terrible experience she had just endured, it occurred to her that she might not have survived it yet.

  She hardly noticed as she trudged across the narrow cliff high above the Cascade Creek gorge. Could it have only been minutes ago that she had been down in that fearsome gorge? Or was it more like hours? She had lost track of time.

  Somehow, she had reopened the wound on her forehead. She ripped a piece of soiled T-shirt from her middle and made another makeshift bandage for her head. Steve’s jacket hung about her shoulders. Something heavy banged against her side. She pushed her trembling fingers into the pocket and withdrew the knife, studying it in stunned silence. She’d never gotten a chance to use it.

  ****

  His back throbbed as Steve dragged himself onto the creek bank. Every muscle in his tired body ached from strain and fatigue. How long had he fought with Cory, and how much of a head start did Chris have? Was she far enough ahead Cory might not be able to catch up with her?

  As Steve reached the railroad track, his eyes searched for sight of either of them. Both of them were out of sight.

  His boots smacked the crossties of the track, moving him forward as fast as they could, which wasn’t very fast. His twisted ankle screamed for relief, but he ignored it. As he crossed the slippery footbridge over the Animas River, he lost his footing and slid across the icy surface, landing against a railing support, dangling over the side headfirst. He pulled himself up with effort. Fluid rattled in his chest, sounding like popped bubble wrap. His head swam, and he wondered if he was dehydrated. He leaned on the rail, waiting for the dizziness to subside.

  None of that daunted him. His mind focused on one thing only. He must find Chris. If he didn’t catch up with Cory, Steve might never see Chris again. Fear for her drove him forward. Otherwise, he might have collapsed on the bridge. He placed one heavy foot in front of the other, grimacing at every other footfall, pondering the steep climb ahead and longing for rest.

  The skies began to soak the still wet earth with a chilling drizzle. He shuddered, peered at the overcast sky through the treetops, and kept moving. As he began the arduous task of ascending the trail, his mind conjured up all sorts of mishaps that might befall her in her weakened condition. Cory might not be her only enemy. Those worries had to be set aside. He couldn’t afford to wallow in anxiety. He needed to be a man of action. It would be hours before he reached the trailhead.

  ****

  Her legs buckled as Chris reached the parking area near the highway. Knees hit pavement. She pushed up on already abraded hands, not stopping to consider the minor discomfort. Forcing her legs to push her forward, she scanned the lot. Her heart stopped when she saw the Jeep. Flashes of memory careened around her cranium. She shook her bleary head. No, that wasn’t the same Jeep. She left that Jeep behind in the gorge.

  She stumbled toward the vehicle. Where was its owner? Why hadn’t she encountered anyone on the trail? She noticed another vehicle parked a few paces away. Where was everyone? Why weren’t these people here to help her? She wailed in frustration at the perversity of life.

  Bracing her tired arms on the side, she peered into the interior, hoping to find a blanket or a coat or something she could trade for Steve’s soggy jacket. Her hand wrapped around the handle and yanked the door open. She stalled and studied the Jeep. Why was the roof down in this weather? She spotted the cell phone on the floorboard and punched in nine-one-one, but the phone was dead. Tossing it to the ground at her feet, she screamed as if in a nightmare.

  Her mind couldn’t tackle such minor irrelevancies. Larger issues pressed upon her. Her hand reached for a blanket in the back of the Jeep, but then she spied a better prize. Dragging a suitcase toward her, she zipped it open and dug in its interior, slinging clothes to the ground in a frenzied effort to find something warm to replace the tattered T-shirt. Then she recognized a shirt. Steve’s shirt. This was Steve’s stuff. His clothes. His personal effects. She ripped off his jacket and her tattered T-shirt and shrugged into his dry shirt, hugging it to her and drawing its scent deep into her nostrils. Steve’s scent.

  Steve’s Jeep. Of course.

  Her ears captured the sound of running feet. She crawled into the back of the Jeep, threw the blanket over her, and pressed her body against the side.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  When Steve gained the top of the trail, he rested on a rock and searched the nearly empty parking area. Rising to his feet, he walked toward the highway, a limp impeding his progress, the twisted ankle throbbing in angry protest. He heard the unmistakable sounds of a car spinning out of the lot. Was Chris in the car? Was his Jeep still here? He trod harder, faster.

  As he neared the Jeep, he saw her climb out from under a blanket, jump to the ground, and lean on the side, her body heaving with spent exertion. She wore one of his heavy work shirts—his drenched jacket and her ripped T-shirt ditched—his clothing tossed on the parking lot.

  She spun to face him, a haze of abject terror in her eyes. She would probably bolt and run if he didn’t stop her. Planting his hands on the side of the Jeep, one on each side of her, he trapped her. He wasn’t moving any faster than she was. He was simply a millisecond quicker. Deprivation and exhaustion slowed his actions just as they were surely slowing hers.

  “Look at me.” In her fright, she struggled against him, flailing her arms and screaming, incoherent and hysterical. “Look at me.” She continued to resist his efforts to calm her. He pushed her against the side of the Jeep and grabbed her by the chin.

  “Look at me,” he demanded. She muttered something incomprehensible. He was tempted to slap her.

  “What?” he asked through stiff lips, trying hard to remain calm, but he was too tired to play nice.

  “I’m not Carol. I’m not Carol.” She stared up into his eyes, suddenly still. “I’m not Carol. She wanted me dead. Don’t you understand? She wanted me dead.” She started flailing again. He pushed her arms down and pinned them to her side. “What do you want from me?” she screamed through chatterin
g teeth. Twisting in his arms, she strained against him for release.

  What could he say? What did he want from her? He wasn’t even sure anymore who she was. “Who are you?” It wasn’t what he wanted to ask, but it was a start in the right direction. Would she be able to respond? Would her answer make sense if she did?

  “He thought I was Carol. He killed the wrong one. Don’t you see? He meant to kill me. She told him to do it.” She gasped. “I was wearing her rings, and she was wearing mine. Cory made a mistake. Don’t you see? It was the rings.”

  Suddenly, everything made sense. “Were you pretending to be Carol down there?” he asked, letting her go and pointing toward the trail. She nodded, a pathetic pleading fear invading her eyes. “I understand what you were doing.”

  She didn’t seem convinced. Once again, she wailed. “Let me go! What do you want from me?”

  He sighed. From deep within him came the reply. “The only thing I’ve ever wanted was to find my wife.” He looked her in the eye. She didn’t react. She didn’t flinch. She stared back at him with wide eyes.

  “I’m not Carol,” she repeated, defeat crawling across her blood-smeared face.

  He didn’t care what she called herself. That didn’t concern him in the least. She wasn’t the other woman, whatever her name was. The other woman was dead. The other woman wasn’t his wife.

  “I know you’re not Carol. But you are my wife, aren’t you?” She began crying again. “Answer me,” he insisted. He didn’t mean to sound rough and impatient, but he wanted an answer.

  “Yes.” She moaned. “But how could you want me after…” She turned her head away from him, shame colored her neck. “If you knew the whole story, you wouldn’t want me anymore.” He grunted in protest. He didn’t need the whole story. She glanced up at him then, utter defeat splashed across her features. It tore his heart in two.

  “I only have one question for you.”

  She backed away from him. “I don’t know who I am.”