Pulling the Trigger

by Julie Miller

  And there the understanding stopped. The connection he and Joanna had resurrected during their time here on the mountain was destined to end.

  Joanna dealt with life by committing herself to a career because it was safer than committing herself to a relationship. He’d made love to Joanna Kuchu last night. But FBI agent Joanna Rhodes was leaving come Monday, or as soon as they found Watts and her interview was finished.

  Then he and Joanna would be finished.

  Again.

  The predawn chill filled the cave. Their fire must have died.

  Ethan pressed one last kiss to her lips and sat up, bracing his elbows against his knees, steeling himself for the day ahead. Trying desperately to steel his heart against loving her, as well. “Looks like the sun will be up soon. We’d better get dressed.”

  She sat up beside him, pulling the crinkly blanket up over her breasts and laying a gentle hand on his arm. “Do we need to talk about this?”

  No. Talking wouldn’t make the inevitable any easier to take. Ethan pushed to his feet and walked buck naked over to the fire pit to stir the embers and add the last of the fuel. “I’ll get us some fresh water we can heat up. I’ve got a couple of coffee packs in my bag.”

  Joanna squinched up her face, accepting the abrupt change in topic, if not necessarily approving the avoidance tactic. “Not that nasty stuff you used to bring on camping trips? Why don’t you just boil some tree bark?”

  “Hey. It survives anything and it’s hot.” He pulled on his shorts and jeans and checked the dryness of his boots. “You want to crimp your taste buds, try eating MREs for a month.”

  “That’s right. Elizabeth said you served a stint in the army. That you went to Afghanistan. That explains the haircut.”

  He let the boots sit for a few minutes longer and picked up his shirts. “Six years as an army ranger. I specialized in casualty recovery.”

  “Casualty…?” The crinkle of stiff material told him Joanna had risen. She wrapped the material around her as she began to dress. “You brought back the dead?”

  “Or wounded. Or lost.”

  “Search and rescue. Why doesn’t that surprise me? You’ve done that your whole life, haven’t you—finding souls and saving them?”

  “No.” He thought of that night in his truck when Joanna had left him. He thought of Sam Keller putting a gun to his head in the middle of a battlefield because he’d seen too much blood and death. Saving souls? Ethan hadn’t saved the ones who counted the most. “Sometimes, I lose them.”

  She wasn’t a fool to miss the hidden meaning in that remark. But he was done with this conversation.

  “Gear up. If we don’t find any trace of Ben in an hour, we’re heading back down to base camp.”

  Chapter Ten

  “Nothing.” Ethan sounded frustrated, grim.

  Joanna came up beside him as he pushed to his feet. “But you’re sure the helicopter landed here?”

  Though the storm and wind had beaten down much of the strawlike grass and wildflowers just beginning to bud out on the high meadow across the Silverton River, even Joanna could now see that something heavy had crushed the vegetation here. An exploration along the lee side of the river in the sunlight had turned up nothing new on Agent Parrish’s disappearance—no shred of clothing, no shoe prints, no body. But after their allotted hour of futile searching, Ethan and Joanna had reluctantly started their trek back to the command post where they hoped that by some miracle, Ben and the rest of the KCCU had somehow found each other.

  It was a miracle that Ethan, with his keen eye and that sixth sense that was tied to the land, had noticed the differences in the flattened plants at the far edge of the meadow. But the discovery of anything useful stopped there.

  “A helicopter landed.” He tossed aside a stalk of scrub grass he’d been inspecting. “If there was any trace of blood left behind, it’s been washed away. There’s no way of knowing if Ben made it this far and got picked up by a rescue team or a good Samaritan, or even if the chopper we saw is the same one that set down here.”

  He walked to the edge of the grass, where wind and water erosion had worn away the soil and root system that held it in place, shearing it down to bare rock. Ethan jumped down to the gravelly incline below the cut and reached up for Joanna’s hand. He held on firmly, giving her the balance she needed to make the same five-foot jump and land gracefully on her feet.

  But just as soon as she nodded her thanks, he released her and headed for the first hairpin turn that would take them back and forth at a modest rate of descent into the forested gully about thirteen hundred feet below. The plan was to find Elk Thunder Creek at the bottom and follow it on out to the trail head where the KCCU had set up their temporary camp.

  So that was how it was going to be this morning, hmm? Back to the taciturn Indian who refused to say a lot because he didn’t want to waste words. And he said that she was two people.

  She missed the Ethan she’d walked with and talked with last night. He’d reminded her of a time when she’d been open to new experiences, hopeful that there was something better for her out there in the world—if she could learn enough, and be tenacious enough to go after it.

  She missed the Ethan who’d been so patient with her last night. The man who’d kissed her so thoroughly, had loved her so well. In the quiet seclusion of that cave, they’d formed a bond that felt deeper, richer, more precious than the love they’d shared before the rape. Last night, Ethan had listened to her fears, adjusted to her needs—he’d made her feel like a whole, normal woman again instead of the unemotional shell who normally walked through every day of her life.

  But somewhere between giving him her trust and the dawn of a new day, their fragile new bond had been buried inside that cave, altered the way yesterday’s rock slide had changed the shape of Ute Mountain. For them, there could only be the present. The reality of their missing partner’s uncertain future, and the omnipresent shadow of her tragic past, demanded their attention this morning.

  He wanted to protect her. She needed to be independent.

  He talked about lost souls and relentless demons, of letting them go before they consumed her. She wanted to hunt hers down and look him in the eye.

  He was a man of the earth. She was the restless wind.

  He belonged in Kenner County. Her career was in Washington, D.C.

  How could they ever make the magic of their time on the mountain the reality of their everyday lives?

  Today, there were no easy conversations, not even arguments, no lessons to be taught. There was just walking and silence—and an uncertain wish that somehow her world and his could meet and meld and survive for more than one night.

  ELK THUNDER CREEK was much narrower and more shallow than the Silverton River. But with snowmelt and the heavy rains feeding it, the water tumbling below Joanna’s feet was just as noisy.

  “It’s no use.” She shut off her cell phone to save the battery, and tucked it back into her pack. She raised her voice to tear Ethan’s focus from the small pines that blanketed the short, steep drop to the creek. “We’re still too far out to get reception.”

  He nodded, indicating he’d heard. “We’ll try again after another mile.”

  When he didn’t face her, or give any indication of climbing back up to the path where she stood, Joanna grabbed on to one small tree after another to join him at the creek bed. “What is it? Do you see something?”

  Though relationship discussions were apparently taboo this morning, he hadn’t hesitated to share information about a danger in their path or any possible clue that might lead them to Ben Parrish or Sherman Watts. He hunched down to bring his shoulders level with hers, and pointed to a stand of young trees across the creek. “Look at those pine saplings. The trunks have all been broken near the roots.”

  “Could it be from flooding?” she suggested, eyeing the line where mud met drier soil just beyond her feet. “Looks like the water level is already going down. If this was moving even
half as fast as the Silverton, it’d mow down pretty much anything that size or smaller.”

  “I don’t think that’s it. Look.” With one long stride, he stepped across the creek and pointed to the watermark about halfway up one trunk. “Here’s where the creek crested. They were standing tall when that happened.”

  Joanna needed to take a short run at it, but she, too, crossed the creek to investigate more closely. She touched one of the thigh-high boulders at the edge of the water. “It looks as though something made a nest here. With the rocks to provide a windbreak, bending the trees over creates a small shelter.”

  Ethan was down on one knee, sifting through a spongy bed of wet leaves and pine needles. “Things that build nests don’t use wires to hold them together.” He pulled a strand of copper wire from the stacked-up leaves.

  Bracing her hand on his knee, Joanna knelt beside him and began to imagine the size and shape of a grown man curled up beneath the canopy of saplings. A surge of adrenaline kicked up the beat of her pulse. “Do you think Ben spent the night here?” She was already scanning the slopes on both sides of the creek, looking for footprints in or out of the deep V of the landscape besides their own. “Why wouldn’t he come back to us if he survived that fall and the river? Could a disoriented man make it this far?”

  “Easy, Sherlock.” Ethan caught her chin between the gentle pinch of his fingers and directed her gaze to the evidence at hand. The skin cells beneath his touch instantly leaped to attention. She came to attention when his hand settled over hers at his knee, as if he was reaching out to her one more time, holding on to something he knew he was about to lose.

  What did he know that she didn’t? “What is it?”

  His expression hardened.

  “You have to look at all the information.” He twirled the wire in front of her eyes. She looked closer. Finally recognized it. Understood.

  Sherman Watts.

  Her awareness of Ethan’s shifting mood turned into a very different kind of awareness. “Watts was here last night.”

  He nodded, made no effort to reclaim her hand as she stood and surveyed more carefully each way in or out of the gully. He zipped the wire into a vest pocket and pushed to his feet. “This matches the filament we found at the blast site. Something is making Watts head back toward civilization instead of sticking to the high country.”

  “The helicopter?”

  “Who knows? But he’s moving south, southwest—on about the same course we are. And…”

  “And?”

  An internal debate darkened Ethan’s eyes and lined his expression. Her breathing quickened, deepened with anticipation before he finally made his decision to speak. “The leaves at the bottom of that shelter still hold a little warmth. He’s not that far ahead of us.”

  Ethan’s reluctance to share that bit of news was probably in direct proportion to her eagerness to act on it.

  They had one more chance to catch Sherman Watts. She had one more chance to bring in her rapist and face him across an interview table—today. Now. She had one more chance to break him in every legal way possible. The key to solving Julie Grainger’s murder could be lurking in this very stretch of woodland.

  “We have to go after him.” Joanna circled the rocks, looking for one of those hidden signs that Ethan rarely missed. “Can you tell what side of the creek he’s on now? Is he on the path? Cutting through the trees?”

  “Give me a minute.”

  She came back to him, tugged at his sleeve. “I understand the need to get word to the others about Ben. But if something happened to him, and Watts gets away…Ben’s sacrifice will have been for nothing.” She pleaded with him to understand. “Sherman Watts can’t get away from us again, Ethan. I need to face him.”

  “Don’t worry, you’ll get the chance to do your job. I promised I’d find him for you, and I will. But the bastard’s armed and more than a little bit desperate if he had to change his escape route. We need to be cautious.”

  Joanna pulled away as soon as he touched her, tried to protect her from the challenge that was hers to face. “I need to do this before I get it in my head that I can’t.”

  “He’ll be drunk or detoxing, either of which makes his behavior unpredictable. The man already blew up half a mountainside trying to throw us off his trail—I don’t think we can be too careful about dealing with him.” He checked his watch and scanned the horizon. “We could make it to base camp in another two hours, an hour and a half if we book it. We’ll return with backup, surround him.”

  She didn’t have two hours, not even an hour and a half before she’d lose the mental advantage they had right now over Watts.

  Joanna knelt down and picked up a stick to poke it through the bottom of the man-made nest, looking for a clue that would point an arrow toward the man they were after. Maybe some of the wet leaves would stick to his boots and leave a trail. She dropped the stick and began to search the surrounding ground, looking for remnants of leaves that matched the bedding in size and shape and color. These were too light a green. Those too long and narrow. “How long do you think he’s been gone?” She looked up when he didn’t immediately answer. “Ethan, how long?”

  He knew. She could see it in the hard glint of his onyx eyes. That damn mystical sixth sense of his knew which way Sherman Watts had gone. He knew where to find him. “Probably a matter of minutes.”

  She rolled back on her heels and stood. She wrapped her hand around a small tree to help pull herself up the steep incline. “Then we can catch him. Don’t tell me to wait for backup when we’re this close. I’ve already waited fifteen years.”

  “Joanna—”

  “Look.” A muddy boot print. A dark green leaf like the ones in the shelter. She followed them up the hill. “Tracks. Right here. Right through here.” Topping the gully, she found another print, embedded with the same leaves, and a flatter path. “They go up right beside that broken sapling. Come on.”

  “Joanna—wait!”

  She was vaguely aware of Ethan charging up the slope behind her. She turned, stepped.

  Snap.

  She felt the telltale give of tension beneath her foot. The milliseconds of each reaction passed by like watching a movie one still frame at a time.

  Not a broken tree.

  Ethan shouting her name.

  Copper trip wire beneath her foot.

  A sleek brown missile hurtling toward her.

  With another blink, real time returned and she couldn’t move fast enough. Joanna jumped, braced for the certain impact of the pine tree whipping toward her. But in a blur of motion, Ethan slammed his arms around her and spun, taking the brunt of the collision.

  Like a spring-loaded catapult, the tree hit hard enough to lift them off their feet and launch them into the gully. Oof. “Hell.”

  They hit the ground hard and rolled, toppling end over end until the cold splash of water at the bottom stopped them.

  Joanna lay on her stomach for a moment—stunned, dizzy, feeling damn lucky she hadn’t broken her neck. The creek water streamed over her dangling hand, its biting chill rousing her as effectively as a dose of smelling salts. She pulled her hand from the water and rose onto her bruised knees. “Ethan?”

  She’d been snug in his arms. Safe, as always. But now she was alone. Where was he? That sapling must have hit him like the front grill of a speeding car. She staggered to her feet. Turned. “Ethan!”

  Wading ankle-deep into the creek, Joanna grabbed his big, still form as he floated into the current, and tugged him to the bank. With a groan of effort, she dug in her heels and fisted her hands in his clothes, dragging him several feet up the slope before laying him down and falling to her knees beside him.

  How badly was he hurt?

  Why wasn’t he moving?

  Why the hell was she crying now, when she needed to see what she was doing?

  “Ethan?” She checked his pulse and thankfully found a strong one beating beneath the cold skin of his neck. After a quick, l
oving caress to the sculpt of his cheek, she checked his head, his neck. Cuts. Scrapes. Bumps. Nothing as serious as she’d expected. “Come on, big guy. I need you to talk to me. I need you.”

  She unzipped his vest and laid her ear to his chest, listening to make sure he was breathing. All at once, his lungs expanded with a deep, agonizing groan and he tried to sit up. “Ah, hell.”

  “Ethan!” Joanna eased him back to the ground. She pressed a quick kiss to his lips and squeezed his hand, studying his hooded eyes all the while to make sure their focus was clear. “Don’t move. Relax. For a minute there, I thought I’d lost you.”

  The hand she held down at his side tightened around hers with the subtly reassuring grip she recognized. “Now you know how I felt when you left me,” he whispered, letting his eyes close again.

  “So this is some cosmic lesson you’re trying to teach me? I don’t like it. Nobody’s dying on me today. Get it?”

  A tight smile flickered between the white lines of pain bracketing his mouth. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m not dying.” He breathed in, groaned. “It just hurts like the blazes.”

  She smoothed her hand across his cheek again, brushing away the chilly moisture from the creek. “Did you hit your head? Where does it hurt?”

  “Just had the wind knocked out of me.”

  “I’m sorry. This is the second time you’ve saved my life. I should have looked more carefully, but I was so anxious to get Watts. I didn’t mean for you to get hurt. Ever.”

  “Shh.” He raised his hand to brush the tears off her cheek. “Don’t you cry for me, Nüa-rü. I’m a tough old army ranger. I’ve survived worse.” Though that taut muscle in his jaw pulsed, his breathing seemed to be evening out. “Are you injured?”

  “Nothing to worry about. Just lie still.”

  “I always worry.”

  “I know.” Finally moving far enough past the fear to think like an FBI agent and not a woman who’d nearly lost her man, Joanna swiped away any lingering tears and shrugged out of her backpack to find a first aid kit. “Does it feel like anything’s broken?”