Treacherous Mountain Investigation

by Stephanie M. Gammon

  The footage moved in slow motion until the moment their suspect looked up into the security camera. The man smiled, as if not caring that the world witnessed. The detective paused the tape and Riggen peered into the man’s eyes. Where had he seen him before?

  Rosche looked over Riggen’s shoulder. “It’s like he’s taunting us.”

  He nodded and leaned closer. “Or taunting Liz.” The guy had something on his neck, just visible above his collar. He pointed. “There. I remember that distinctive tattoo.” He snapped his fingers. “The memo a few months back, from Vice—he’s wanted on human trafficking charges.”

  Both Rosche and the CSPD detective nodded. The memo had circulated to both departments. “So what’s he doing terrorizing a travel blogger?” Rosche asked.

  Riggen shoved his hand through his hair. It was grimy from the blast. “I think it’s tied to Malcovitch and the traffickers Liz exposed.”

  Rosche pulled out her phone. “Our other guy has a trafficking history, too.” She typed for a moment before handing it to him.

  Their first suspect’s computerized criminal history filled Rosche’s screen and Riggen read through the file. So was their first perpetrator a simple fan? Not a chance. He looked up. “It has to be Liz’s Sagebrush review—”

  “The Malcovitch write-up with the viral reach.” Rosche nodded.

  He handed the phone back. “Yeah.”

  “So we think her post is coming back to bite her five years later?”

  “There’s a good chance. We have the sagebrush in her canteen and the trafficking ties to both suspects.”

  Rosche handed a flash drive to the CSPD detective. The man inserted it into the hospital’s computer to save the security footage.

  “I’ll check into it.” Rosche pocketed the flash drive. “But Malcovitch is in prison and, from all accounts, he’s a model inmate. Turned his life around when his wife and kids left. Even his known associates cut ties. He doesn’t have the influence he once had. It’s not likely he’d be able to orchestrate this.”

  Riggen couldn’t argue but the evidence overwhelmingly pointed back to the Sagebrush. If the former owner didn’t want revenge, who was terrorizing Liz? He tossed the Ziploc of melted ice into the trash and headed for the door. “Whatever is going on, I need to get Liz somewhere better protected.”

  Rosche popped a piece of gum in her mouth and chomped. “What are you thinking?”

  “Out of the open. Somewhere less exposed. Less public.”

  “Ideas?”

  He shook his head. “I haven’t had time to shower since this started, let alone plan.” He stopped in the doorway and turned back. “My most immediate priority is getting to my son.”

  Rosche choked. She hammered her chest as her eyes bulged. “Son?”

  Funny. He’d never heard her voice hit that octave. Questions fired from her eyes, but he turned and stepped into the hallway. He couldn’t answer the questions in his own mind. And Liz’s questions still hung over his head like a storm cloud waiting to let loose.

  It was time to hit the road.

  “Yeah.” He threw the quip over his shoulder. “But you’re too late for the baby shower.”

  SIX

  A full moon hung heavy over Colorado Springs as Memorial’s doors slid open. The wheels of Liz’s borrowed wheelchair hit rough cement and she felt the transition deep. Every cell in her body hurt.

  Riggen pushed her down the sidewalk. He was as silent as the night that surrounded them. The last thing she wanted right now was silence. Silence let her second-guess her desperate appeal for help. Silence let her sister’s accusations roar through her thoughts. Silence didn’t answer her questions.

  Before the roar could overwhelm her, Rosche appeared, driving Riggen’s truck under the pie-shaped overhang. The engine shuddered to a stop and the redhead climbed out. Riggen’s dog nosed the back window, his breaths puffing at the glass. Rosche tossed the keys through the air and Riggen caught them one-handed.

  “Thanks for driving up—” he nodded at the car “—and for bringing Yakub.”

  Rosche winked. “No problem.”

  She approached and held out her hand to tug Liz from the chair. “Take care of yourself. Three incidents in one day seems a bit overboard.”

  Liz couldn’t stop giggles from overpowering her exhausted body. “Believe me—” she gasped for air “—I’m as finished with this as you.”

  Rosche nodded, the overhead lights reflected in her green eyes. She pushed the wheelchair back toward the ER entrance and turned to wiggle her fingers over one shoulder. “Stay low, both of you.”

  Liz was watching Rosche’s retreating back when warmth from Riggen’s hand on her own back shot energy up her spine. She jerked, the motion slicing pain through her bruised ribs.

  He didn’t remove his hand, just held her gaze while emotions chased each other across his face. She caught the last one because she knew it well. Fear.

  But fear of what?

  “Time to go.” He guided her to the passenger door, sliding his hand from her waist to her arm as he helped her climb inside. A line of fire trailed after his touch. She shook it off.

  “Thanks.” She refused to meet his eyes, closing the door to barricade herself from the feelings he stirred. Complicating the situation with long-dead emotions wouldn’t do anybody any favors. The feelings he was raising were simply a product of their traumatic day. Nothing more.

  Riggen jogged to the driver’s side, his eyes constantly scanning their surroundings. The parking lot. The hospital. Even the air. As soon as his foot cleared the frame, he slammed the door and fired up the engine.

  He cut a glance at her as they sped away from the building. “Does Kat know we’re on the way?”

  The acceleration jerked her neck muscles and pulled a groan from her throat. “She didn’t even ask if I was okay. Just wanted to know if Lucas would be safe when we took him.”

  She looked down at her romper. The baby blue was stained an ugly brown with drops of her own blood. “I don’t want to scare him. What if he’s awake and sees me like this?”

  The day had left its mark on Riggen, as well. She pointed at his pants. “You’re a mess, too.”

  He nodded his head toward the back of the cab. “I always carry a change of clothes. I’ll pull something else on.”

  Tears of frustration pricked the backs of her eyes. She pinched herself to maintain control. “Of course, you can.” Her voice shook. She pinched harder. She wouldn’t cave to the anxiety that was riding her. She knew it wouldn’t release control without a fight.

  Drawing her knees up, she laid her face on them. Be strong. Her legs grew wet as tears dripped on the ripped fabric of her romper. She had nothing left but a crying heart, so she let it cry out to God. Be my strength.

  The Bronco rocked gently. It should be soothing. It wasn’t. Only this morning, she’d been ready to take on the world, climb a mountain, face down her past, and forge a new future for herself and Lucas.

  Now her past was threatening to crash her future in ways she’d never seen coming and she couldn’t even pull back on her safe-mom façade. The pounding started behind her temples again. The thought of Kat’s reaction to her appearance pulsed icy cold dread through her veins.

  Maybe her sister was right. Maybe she wasn’t enough. The thought made her want to run for the mountains. The explosion had obliterated her patchwork armor and she couldn’t piece it back together.

  The Bronco slowed. The click-clack of the turn signal echoed in the silent interior. She rubbed her face into her legs and wiped away any evidence that she didn’t have it all together. She couldn’t be vulnerable. Not now. Not before going home. And definitely not with Riggen.

  Liz pushed herself up and straightened her shoulders. They were pulling into a twenty-four-hour shopping center. Bright lights flickered across the deserted
parking lot and cast shadows on Riggen’s face.

  He pulled in as close to the retail entrance as possible then turned to her and draped his arm across the back of her seat. Yakub rested his head on Riggen’s shoulder. They both stared. At her.

  “Good grief.” She hiccupped. “What?”

  “Let’s run in for clean clothes.” He reached over with his free arm and traced a finger down her cheek. When he pulled back, his fingertip glistened with tears.

  Then he swiveled with the grace of the mountain climber he was and grabbed a duffel from the floorboard of his back seat. He dug around for a moment. “Here.” He handed her a windbreaker. “To cover some of the blood.”

  She stared at it a moment before shrugging into it. The scent of Riggen cocooned her. She immediately felt secure. Like a child in strong arms. She ignored her traitorous senses and risked a look into his gray eyes. “Thanks.”

  His expression was unreadable. “No problem.”

  He sank back into his own seat and scanned the lot. Checked the mirrors. “No one followed us from the hospital. But this day has me on edge.” He yanked the door handle and jumped out. “Let’s do this as fast as possible.”

  She nodded. He was at her side before both of her feet hit the pavement. This time when he offered his hand, she almost wanted to take it.

  * * *

  They hadn’t been followed, but he wasn’t taking any chances. Riggen kept an eye on the lot while he shot off a text to a friend at CSPD. He could trust a fellow cop to watch their backs while he and Liz were in the store.

  He placed a hand on Liz’s back and guided her the short distance from the Bronco to the store entrance. As they hit the crosswalk, a black sedan pulled in. Every nerve in his body fired.

  Am I even capable of protecting them?

  He pushed the thought away and quickened their pace. What choice did he have but to try? He had a responsibility to Liz and their son. Just like he’d had a responsibility that day in Iraq. His heart thudded. Could this be God giving him a chance to redeem his failure?

  Trevor’s words played through his mind like a broken record. There’s nothing more important than family.

  He’d thought letting Liz go had been his just punishment. That if he stayed, the consequences to his mistakes would rain down on her, too.

  But even if God hadn’t had it out for him, that still didn’t mean he deserved Liz. He glanced at her. Not now that he could see the damage he’d caused.

  A heavy sigh escaped as they entered into safety through the sliding doors of the store. He’d do his duty by Liz until she found someone who deserved her. Until she was safe.

  Soft rock trickled from the overhead speakers, lulling the few late-night shoppers who lazed down empty aisles. No one looked up. Good. The less attention they drew, the better.

  Liz booked toward the clothing, her tangled hair swaying with each step. He followed slightly behind, analyzing every inch of the layout.

  Within moments, she had a fitted long-sleeved T-shirt and a pair of sweats draped over her arm. She nodded her head at the register, still blissfully unaware of the smudges of blood and dust that caked her forehead.

  He matched her pace and tapped the clothing. “Aren’t you going to try them on?”

  She slid a look at him. The first hint of a smile peeked through. “I’ll be fine.”

  He shrugged and sidestepped an impulse bin in the middle of the aisle then halted, his attention captured by the contents of the display. Toy cars.

  Little boys liked cars. At least he had. A dull ache started behind his eyes and he rubbed the back of his neck. Grabbing a three-pack from the bin, he sprinted to catch up to Liz, who was already setting her items on the self-checkout.

  She ran her sweats over the scanner, the infrared light bouncing off the tag’s bar code. He threw the Hot Wheels onto the counter and she paused, her brow arching. He just shrugged. She scanned the toy and then froze, her hand halfway from the scanner to the bag.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She didn’t move. Her face, the perfect picture of confusion. “I don’t have my purse.”

  He removed the Hot Wheels package from her immobilized hand and dropped it in the shopping bag before grabbing a Hershey bar. “Was there anything else you needed?”

  She shook her head, her hazel eyes unreadable. He grabbed his wallet and stepped closer, leaning his head close to hers. “It’s okay, Lizzy. Your purse is in the back of the Bronco, in the bag from the hospital.”

  She sniffed as he slid his credit card through the card reader.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  He shrugged. “You didn’t need it. I didn’t see the point.” He signed the signature pad and gathered their shopping bags.

  “I needed to buy clothes.”

  He turned at her short tone. Better tread carefully. Shifting all the bags to one hand, he placed the other on her back and steered her toward the restrooms. “It didn’t occur to me that you’d be upset.”

  Her back muscles tightened under his palm. “A lot of things must not occur to you. Like letting the woman you’re engaged to know why you’re never coming back.” She ducked away from him. Her voice was low and trembling. “It wasn’t your decision to make. I can take care of myself.”

  What decision was she talking about? The purchase or their engagement? The dull ache behind his eyes morphed into full-blown throbbing. He gave a tight smile to the concerned-looking door attendant as they exited the main entrance and approached the women’s restroom.

  Liz hustled toward the restroom door but he stopped her with a hand to her wrist. When she looked up, a wisp the color of butterscotch fell across her nose. He pushed it aside and tucked it behind her ear. “I’ve no doubt you can take care of yourself, and do an amazing job, but I wanted to take care of this for you.”

  She grabbed the bag from his hand. “I don’t understand why. You didn’t want to take care of me before.” Then she was gone, leaving him wondering what to do next.

  * * *

  Liz scowled at her grainy reflection in the stainless-steel towel dispenser. It didn’t matter how heartfelt his words sounded, they couldn’t be trusted. Balling up the sopping paper towel she had dried her hands and face with, she threw it into the bathroom’s overflowing trash can.

  The man had abandoned her to raise a son alone. No explanation. Just a single note. One note that had erased a future of promises. She scooped her hair and secured it on her head with a dingy hair tie that had somehow survived both crash and explosion.

  She’d forged into the murky waters of “why” right before the explosion rocked her hospital room. But was there really any explanation that would make it all right? Her heart climbed into her throat. Did she really want to hear him explain why she hadn’t been enough?

  Nothing would erase the years of pain. And now she was stuck with the man who had broken her heart with no hope of shaking him loose until whoever was targeting her either lost interest or was put behind bars.

  That reality alone sent any desire for reconciliation right out the window.

  She pulled her ponytail tight. Heartfelt words aside, the man hadn’t even said he was sorry. Her shoulders stiffened. She’d keep her distance.

  Her soiled romper lay on the counter, ruined. No amount of laundering would save it. She stuffed it into a discarded grocery bag and pushed it far into the trash, feeling every inch the mess-up Kat thought she was.

  With one last peek at the mirror, she turned to charge back into her new reality. After yanking open the heavy metal door, she crashed straight into Riggen’s back. What was he doing? He turned to her and nodded before pointing at the phone on his ear.

  Shimmying past, she stood beside him. All the fight she had mustered slowly drained into the dirty floor at her feet.

  “Unbelievable.” He shook his head. “Same story?
”

  Liz cocked an eyebrow, but he only held up a finger. She tapped her foot on the worn rug. Whatever patience she’d had today had been lost somewhere between being tied up and drugged.

  “Keep me updated,” Riggen said and ended the call. He cut his hand toward the door, motioning them outside. “CSPD arrested our guy from the hospital about half an hour ago. He walked right into their main office and confessed.”

  She followed his lead, her heart thrumming in her ears.

  “He spouted the same story as the first guy.”

  Her toe hit the curb and she stumbled into the crosswalk. Riggen caught her and nestled her close, under the safe weight of his arm.

  “Another alleged stalker. The stories are identical. Down to the soul-mate line.” Riggen guided them to the Bronco, his arm never leaving her shoulder. “You don’t have some weird fan club you haven’t told me about, do you?”

  “Yeah. They meet quarterly and plan my demise.” She elbowed his ribs. “You can sign up for the newsletter.”

  He stopped at the Bronco. “CSPD is going to collaborate with Rosche on the investigation. They’ll get further working together.”

  Liz climbed in, wanting to believe that was true. But this new development was exhausting and terrifying.

  Riggen dropped their bags onto the floorboard at her feet and leaned against the door frame, his biceps flexing. “I called my station while you were changing and was cleared for a leave of absence.” His jawline hardened. “I want to stay close to you until this is resolved.”

  She wrapped her arms around Yakub, reluctantly giving mental points to Rosche for bringing the dog to the hospital. Stuck with Riggen wasn’t the stuff of dreams, but she was realistic enough to begin admitting it was what she needed. What they needed. There had to be gratitude somewhere inside her. She dug deep and pushed it out.

  “Thanks.” She scratched behind Yakub’s ears. “So that takes care of the police department, but what about your side gig—your business?”

  He pushed off the door frame, his shirt stretching as he moved. “Trevor’s got it under control. He’s used to it. He handled it fine while I was gone.” He pushed her door shut.