Avalanche of Trouble

by Cindi Myers

  She stepped back. “Gage, what are you doing?”

  He slipped the belt from the loops of his khaki trousers and handed it to her, buckle first. The oval silver-and-gold buckle with its decoration of a cowboy riding a bucking bronc was heavier than she had expected, the edges tapered. “That buckle is silver with gold overlay,” he said. “It should be strong enough for what we need if you can wedge it under the clips.”

  She turned the buckle over and read the engraving inside. Gage Walker, Colorado State Junior Champion Bronc Rider, 2006. “What if I break this?” she asked. “This obviously means a lot to you.”

  “It’s just a belt buckle,” he said. He held out his hand. “Ready to try again?”

  Now that she had done it once, getting to an upright position on his shoulders wasn’t so difficult the second time. She managed to wedge one side of the buckle under the metal clip easily enough, but the clip refused to budge. “Pull down hard,” Gage said. “Hang all your weight off of it if you have to. I won’t let you fall.”

  She grasped the buckle with both hands and forced it down against the clip and prayed the sound she heard wasn’t the buckle shattering. Something hit her cheek and she instinctively closed her eyes. She almost lost her balance and had to open her eyes, and saw that the bottom half of the clip was gone. “It broke!” she shouted.

  “Great! Try the next one.”

  She managed to break three of the four clips, then was able to reach up and slide the grate to one side, out onto the forest floor. She gripped the opening, debating chinning herself up and trying to wiggle out, but she would be lucky to get more than her head through that small space, much less the rest of her. “I’m ready to come down,” she said.

  Gage lowered her, and Casey ran up to them. “Lift me up so I can go for help,” she signed.

  Gage knelt in front of Casey and took her by the shoulders. “You don’t have to do this,” he said.

  Maya translated, but before she had finished, Casey was already replying. “I want to do it,” she signed. “I can do it. If I don’t, we’ll die.”

  Gage nodded. “All right. I’m going to tell you where to go for help. It’s a man named Mr. Trotter. He lives at the end of this road. When you climb out, head for the roses along the fence. Follow that fence to the road and the gate. Make sure no one sees you. When you get to the gate, go left. Do you know left?”

  Casey looked from Gage to Maya as he spoke and she translated. She nodded, her expression so solemn that she looked older than five. Maya’s heart squeezed, and she swallowed a knot of tears.

  “Are you ready?” Gage asked.

  Casey nodded. He hugged her close. “That’s my girl.”

  This time, Maya sat on Gage’s shoulders and he boosted Casey up to her. The little girl scrambled onto Maya’s shoulders, fearless, and was up out of the opening before Maya was really ready. She looked back down at them and waved, then was gone. Maya fought the urge to call after her to be careful. Of course, she wouldn’t hear, but it seemed Maya should have done something more than simply let her run into danger that way.

  She slid off Gage’s shoulders and sagged against him. “I hope we made the right decision,” she said.

  “We gave her a chance.” He cradled her head against his chest. “We gave ourselves a chance. We wouldn’t have that without her.”

  We wouldn’t have had anything without her, Maya thought. She closed her eyes and gave herself up to the feel of his arms around her, holding her so close. The search for Casey had initially brought them together, and the shared goal of keeping her safe had forced them to become a team. But what had developed between them—this closeness she had never felt with anyone else—that was something so unexpected, so precious. Out of such great tragedy had come this gift that she didn’t know what to do with.

  He kissed the top of her head. “Let’s sit down,” he said. “All we can do now is wait.”

  Yes, they would wait—for rescue, for a resolution to this whole series of awful events and to see if the love she felt for this man could survive outside of the sadness and need, and become something even stronger.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Casey pretended she was a little animal—a squirrel or a bunny running through the woods, hiding from the bigger, dangerous animals. She didn’t see anyone else around, but she wouldn’t take any chances. She scurried to the rose hedge at the fence, the pink petals scattered on the ground like confetti, and followed it to the road. The big black gate that had been closed before was open now, and a black truck sat in the drive, little puffs of smoke coming out of its tailpipe. But no one was inside the truck. Still, she stayed as far from it as she could, then turned and started down the road.

  She passed the place where she and Mommy and Daddy had camped. It was empty now. Someone—maybe Deputy Gage—had taken down the tent and driven the car away. She didn’t know where Mommy and Daddy were now. What happened to you when you died? Would she ever see Mommy and Daddy again?

  She brushed the tears out of her eyes and kept moving, following the road but staying in the woods at the edge of it. She wasn’t a sad little girl; she was a little wild rabbit, hurrying along with an important mission. Maybe she even had a little cape, with an S on it for Super Rabbit. The idea made her smile.

  A flash of color on the road caught her attention and she ducked deeper into the woods. She hid behind a big tree trunk and trembled as a truck drove past. The man driving was the big man who had grabbed her from the bedroom at Gage’s house and taken her out the window. He was the man who had shot her parents. Her heart pounded so hard it hurt, but he never looked her way.

  He was headed back the way she had come. Was he going back to kill Aunt Maya and Deputy Gage? She had to hurry to save them. She started running, ignoring the branches that slapped at her and the prickly vines that reached out to grab her. She ran until she could hardly breathe and her side hurt. But she couldn’t stop. She had to get help.

  She tried to remember what Deputy Gage had told her. She had to go to a man for help. What was his name? She couldn’t remember, but that didn’t matter. She didn’t need his name to go to him for help. He lived at the end of the road.

  The road went up a hill and curved, and at the end of the curve, a driveway cut off to the right. She ran faster, arms pumping, legs pistoning, heart pounding. When she reached the end of the driveway, she saw a little house and a man wearing baggy brown pants and a flannel shirt standing outside of it. He had a big white beard, like Santa Claus. This must be the man Deputy Gage had told her to ask for help.

  Waving her arms, she ran toward him. The man’s eyes widened. They were very pale blue eyes, in a face that was deeply wrinkled. He dropped the shovel he had been holding and opened his mouth and waved his arms, too. She thought maybe he was shouting. Then he picked up a rock and threw it at her.

  Casey stopped and stared. Why was he so angry? She was close enough now to read his lips. “Go away!” he said.

  She crossed her arms and shook her head. No. She wasn’t going to go away. She needed him to help her. They stood like this for a long while, staring at each other. The man made shooing motions and turned his back to her. Casey moved closer, making the signs for Help and Please.

  He said a lot of things she couldn’t understand. She kept moving toward him, one step at a time, the way you were supposed to approach a shy animal. He looked toward the door to his house. Was he thinking about going inside? She mimed making a phone call—everyone could understand that, couldn’t they?

  He shook his head. No, he didn’t understand, or no, she couldn’t use his phone. Or maybe he didn’t have a phone. Daddy had said something about phones not working up here.

  The man was still talking, too fast for her to understand. She looked around and spotted a stick and picked it up and wrote in the dirt. HELP.

  He stared at the word for a long moment
, then moved closer and shrugged, his hands out. She understood that. What did she want from him? How to make him understand?

  She grabbed his hand and tugged. To her relief, he followed. She led him down the driveway. At the road, he stopped, but she pulled harder. She was crying now. She hadn’t meant to, but she couldn’t help it. The man shook his head, but when she tugged at him, he followed.

  After a few feet, she began to run. They might not have much time. The man jogged along after her, until they were both out of breath. She slowed down to a walk and he slowed, too. Alternately running and walking, they made their way back to the big black gate, which was still open, though the truck was no longer sitting in the drive.

  Casey put a finger to her lips, signaling the old man to be quiet. He nodded that he understood. She took his hand again and led him along the roses, intending to take him to the opening where the grate had been. Deputy Gage could talk to him then, and tell him what to do.

  But they hadn’t gone far when the old man put out a hand to stop her. When she looked at him, he put his finger to his lips and pointed to the side. She looked and saw the man who had taken her and the other man who had been with him when he shot her parents. They were talking to a man in a black suit. Not talking—arguing, their mouths open wide and their arms waving around.

  The old man took her hand and led her deeper into the woods, then up a slope, helping her over the bigger rocks as they climbed. He moved carefully and she thought probably quietly. Instead of boots, he wore soft moccasins, with beading on the toes. They climbed and climbed, until they reached the top of the ridge and could look down on the three men still arguing.

  The old man was talking again, though his head was turned away from her. She thought maybe he was talking to himself. He stared hard at the arguing men, then nodded, as if he had come to a decision. He indicated that she should stay where she was while he moved away. She didn’t really want him to leave her, but Deputy Gage had told her he would help her, so she nodded and sat.

  He moved over the rocks, crouched low and glancing down at the arguing men every few seconds. Then Casey couldn’t see him anymore. She hugged her knees to her chest and wished she knew what those men were arguing about. She didn’t see any sign of Aunt Maya or Deputy Gage, so she thought they must still be in the concrete room underground.

  The ground shook and she jumped up, startled. The rocks under her feet weren’t moving, but she could feel vibrations through her feet, like when she was standing on the sidewalk and a car playing loud music went by. She couldn’t hear the music, but she could feel it. She turned to see the old man running toward her, hopping over the rocks, while more rocks—a whole river of rocks—slid down onto the men below. One big rock hit the man who had killed her parents and he fell. The man in the black suit ran away and the other man tried to run, but he tripped, and then he was buried under rocks.

  The old man scooped up Casey and scrambled with her to the road, where he finally put her down and stopped. He bent over, hands on his knees, breathing hard, but grinning. Casey waited until he straightened, then she took his hand and tugged him toward the grates in the woods.

  A questioning expression on his face, he followed her. When she knelt beside the grate and looked down, he did the same, and then he was talking to someone down below—Deputy Gage and Aunt Maya. Casey lay back on the ground and looked up through the lacy leaves to the patch of blue sky above. Darla had told her she believed Mommy and Daddy were in heaven, where they could watch over her. Casey hoped that was true. She hoped they had seen how she had been brave and had gone for help—how she had saved them all.

  * * *

  “CASEY MUST HAVE turned right out of the driveway instead of left,” Gage said as he and Maya and Casey stood with Travis by the gate to Eagle Mountain Resort, watching a rescue crew work to remove the ton of rock that had come down off the ridge when Ed Roberts set off the rock slide.

  “They were arguing about killing you two, and the little girl, too,” Ed said. When Travis and the rescue crew showed up, he had tried to leave, but Travis had persuaded him to stay and give an official statement. “I was just trying to stop them, though I ain’t sorry they’re dead, after what they did to that young couple and tried to do to the little girl.”

  “We’re not pressing charges,” Travis said. “We’re grateful for your help.”

  “You saved our lives,” Gage said, and offered his hand.

  Ed hesitated, then took it. “I need to be getting back to my place now,” Ed said. “I’ve had enough of all these people and commotion.”

  “You can go,” Travis said. “And thanks again.”

  Ed left, and Travis went to consult with the rescue team, who had uncovered Wade and Brock’s bodies.

  “It’s over,” Maya said.

  “Almost,” Gage said. “We’ll need to get a formal statement from Casey, verifying that Brock and Wade were the men who killed her parents and kidnapped her. I wish I knew what they saw that led to them being murdered—maybe it was something to do with that laboratory.”

  “Will you be able to tell what the laboratory was for?” Maya asked.

  “We’ll call in the DEA for that. And we’ll be looking for the man Casey and Ed saw with Wade and Brock. He had something to do with all this.” He turned to face her. “What will you do now?” he asked.

  “I need to go back to Denver and settle Angie and Greg’s estate, arrange for their memorial service and all the legal paperwork for me to become Casey’s guardian.”

  “And then?” he asked.

  “And then, I don’t know.”

  He caressed her shoulders. “Stay. I know you think Eagle Mountain is a small place that will limit your opportunities, but there’s a lot here for you.”

  “I know that now. You’re here.”

  He kissed her, a gentle caress of his lips against hers that managed to say more than words.

  When he lifted his head, she stared up into his eyes—the kindest eyes she had ever known, burning now with passion for her. “Do you think I can do it?” she asked. “Find a job and a place to live and...”

  He touched a finger to her lips. “You’ll find a job. If not teaching, something else. As for where you’ll live...how about with me?”

  “Oh, Gage, I don’t know. Casey...”

  “Casey can live with us, too. I’m asking you to marry me.”

  “Marry you?” Her eyes widened.

  “I know it’s sudden, and if you insist, we can have a long engagement. But I love you and I know it’s real, and I want to be with you for always—and to be a father to Casey.”

  “What happened to the man who didn’t make commitments? Who thought relationships and being a cop don’t go together?”

  “I had to find a commitment worth making, and the relationship that was the right fit. I’ve found both with you.”

  She looked into his eyes and saw her future there, building a life together with this man who filled in the pieces of her life she hadn’t even known were missing. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, I’ll stay in Eagle Mountain and yes, I’ll marry you and yes, we’ll be a family. Together.”

  * * * * *

  Look for the next book in Cindi Myers’s

  Eagle Mountain Murder Mystery miniseries,

  Deputy Defender,

  available next month.

  And don’t miss the previous book in the

  Eagle Mountain Murder Mystery series,

  Saved by the Sheriff

  Available now from Harlequin Intrigue!

  Keep reading for an excerpt from Armed Response by Janie Crouch.

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  Armed Response

  by Janie Crouch

  Chapter One

  The way some women felt about that perfect little black-dress-and-heels ensemble—ready for anything, able to handle themselves, bring it on—Lillian Muir felt about her SWAT cargo pants, combat boots and tactical vest.

  The heavy clothing and gear she wore might have felt burdensome at one time on her five-two, one-hundred-pound frame, but she had long since adjusted. Now she almost felt more comfortable with the extra thirty pounds weighing on her than she did with it off. The weight was a comfort. A friend.

  Her HK MP5 9mm submachine gun rested against her shoulder, just grazing her chin. Her fingers curled gently around it as she moved through the silent winter air of this Colorado night. A shotgun strapped around her back and a Glock pistol low on one hip provided further assurance she could handle what was ahead.