Treacherous Mountain Investigation

by Stephanie M. Gammon

  And with that, the wave of turmoil she’d ridden through the last twelve hours crashed like a tidal wave onto her weary shoulders. She didn’t even know when he’d come home to Manitou Springs. How long had they lived so close but so far from each other’s lives?

  If nothing else had been clear today, one thing was. Riggen needed to stay at arm’s length, where he belonged.

  SEVEN

  It was well after midnight when Riggen pulled up to a single-level ranch on the outskirts of Colorado Springs. A green light illuminated the driveway, its emerald rays showing military support. He sent Liz a searching look.

  She nodded. “Retired Army. Chaplain’s assistant.”

  He shifted into Park. He hadn’t been expecting Liz’s brother-in-law to be a veteran—like him. He scratched his jawline and climbed out. The Hot Wheels hung from his grip like a ten-pound weight as he searched the street.

  Were they being watched? Cold swept his body. He scanned three-hundred-and-sixty degrees, watching for signs of movement. All was quiet. Other than a stray cat, the street slept on—unaware of the danger that plagued his and Liz’s steps.

  A CSPD cruiser sat at the curb, keeping an eye on the home. He nodded at the officer before turning and trudging up the sidewalk. Each footfall thudded through the silent night.

  Liz inserted a key into the metal door. He took in the well-manicured landscaping that fronted the cozy house and tried to gulp back the guilt that pummeled his gut.

  Riggen hadn’t stepped foot inside a pastor’s house since his father died a little more than five years earlier. And back then, he’d only pretended interest in church out of loyalty to his father. He’d never been religious himself. Would the last few years have turned out differently if he had actually tried following the Jesus Dad had preached?

  He shook his arms out as if he could shake off all what-ifs. Now wasn’t the time. He had enough to think about. When he stepped foot over that threshold, his life would forever change.

  He entered the still foyer behind Liz. Footfalls sounded from deep inside the home. His heart slammed around his rib cage like a wild animal trying to escape and sweat dampened the clean Henley he’d thrown on. He was more terrified at this moment than at any other of his adult life. Including on the battlefield.

  He could do this. It was just one little boy.

  His little boy.

  The Hot Wheel package crackled under his death grip. Light flipped on at the end of the hallway, silhouetting Kat, a slight brunette with shadows under her eyes. The years had added streaks of gray through her now-short hair.

  “What’s going on?” Kat’s words were as piercing as the daggers she shot from her eyes.

  Liz slid past her sister and disappeared around the corner. “I don’t see that there’s more to say than we already discussed.” Her retort faded as she melted into the home’s interior.

  Riggen followed down the dim hall, passing family pictures and discarded toys. Nodding at Kat, he blinked hard, his eyes fighting to adjust to the harsher light of the kitchen.

  “They’re in the den.” Kat folded her arms and tilted her head.

  He rolled his shoulders back, refusing to be cowed by the look. “I wish we could be meeting again under better circumstances.”

  She motioned for him to follow her. “We all have regrets.” Stepping back, Kat held her hand out to allow Riggen first entrance into the den.

  He made it about two steps before all air was knocked from his body. Liz knelt in the middle of the den, next to a man in a wheelchair. A sleeping boy lay in his arms.

  His son.

  “It’s really remarkable.” Kat shifted next to Riggen.

  He looked down at her. He’d already forgotten she was there.

  Her brow raised. “He looks just like you.”

  It was no use trying to answer. The shock had removed all normal functioning ability. From the swirling tip of his cowlick to his tiny toes, Riggen had never seen a more perfect child.

  A fierce protective instinct surged through him and pushed him off balance. He gripped the railing that separated the kitchen from the den. Liz raised her head, catching his eye. She nodded as if understanding the feelings blasting through him.

  Cupping Lucas’s head with her hand, Liz spoke softly to her brother-in-law before scooping the boy into her arms. Then she was walking toward Riggen and everything slowed. Her mouth was moving. He knew there were words coming out and that they were meant for him, but all he could hear was the pounding of his own heart.

  She stopped in front of him, his son so close that all he had to do was to reach out a finger to touch the porcelain skin of the little boy’s cheek. Riggen tore his eyes from Lucas and looked at Liz.

  She jerked her head in the direction of the hallway. “Let’s get his things.”

  He looked over her head at the man he’d yet to be introduced to, and swallowed, his throat raw. “Thanks.”

  Liz’s brother-in-law inclined his head, understanding volleying between them.

  Together, Riggen and Liz walked down a cramped hallway to Liz and Lucas’s room. She sank onto a twin-size bed that was covered with more cartoon blankets than he’d ever seen in his life. Her eyes drifted shut and she hummed a quiet lullaby. She was the picture of exhaustion.

  He leaned against the doorway for support. The stakes had just been raised three hundred percent and Riggen hadn’t been prepared for it—this feeling of complete responsibility.

  His gaze ran the length of his son before settling on Liz’s face. “He’s beautiful.”

  “He is.” Liz snuggled Lucas farther into her neck as the boy continued sleeping.

  Riggen crossed his arms over his chest and shifted on anxious legs that were screaming for a run. He nodded his head back the way they’d come. “Your sister is...”

  “Poised? Protective? Capable?”

  None of those words summed up his current impression, though obviously they summed Liz’s feelings of inadequacy. He pushed off the door frame and walked to the rocking chair next to the bed. “I was going to say still overbearing. When did she get married?”

  Liz’s soft humming stopped and she ran her fingers through Lucas’s hair. “Almost five years. She and John met while I was pregnant.”

  He nodded.

  “I was trying to find you.” Her voice cracked and she shrugged. “We found John instead.”

  The hurt in her tone punctured his heart. He reached across the toy-strewed floor that separated them and squeezed her knee. “I’m sorry.”

  She shook her head. “It is what it is. Now Kat has John and Lucas has us all. One big, happy family.” Irony dripped from her reply.

  He pulled back. “So, what happened to him?”

  “John?” she asked. “Drove over an IED. Paralyzed from the crash.” Her voice lowered. “He can’t father children. I think it makes Kat even more overprotective of Lucas. They’ve considered adopting but...well, with Lucas here, they were content.”

  “And he’s okay with that?” Confusion bubbled from his throat. Liz’s brother-in-law was a pastor. If anyone should be exempt from such a disaster, it should be him. Riggen gripped the chair’s handles. But then again, Dad hadn’t been exempt.

  Liz’s forehead scrunched. “Okay with what?”

  “Okay that the God he serves let him be paralyzed.”

  She laid Lucas down on his pillow and pulled the covers up to his chin. “I asked him the same thing once.” She raised a brow. “When my anxiety had the best of me. He said sometimes things just happen. If we try to make sense of the why, we’ll go crazy.” She settled back on the bed and pulled her legs up, resting her chin on her knees. “Sometimes we’re harmed from the sin of others, sometimes from the result of natural processes, and sometimes from our own neglect or distraction.”

  He cringed. The memories he always tried to
push away crowded his brain. War or disregard of a direct command? Had his disaster risen from the sin of others or his own neglect?

  She raised her face and speared him with pure conviction. “The sense comes from how God shapes us as we walk through the wreckage. How do we respond? Do we pull away from His touch and let bitterness harden us or do we run full-speed into God’s embrace so He can shine His light through our brokenness?”

  “What can possibly shine about a loss like that?” His breath choked in his chest.

  “Contentment. And peace. John has taught me to run full-speed after God.” She rubbed Lucas’s back.

  Riggen couldn’t feel more exposed if she had sliced him open and spilled his deepest struggles on the cartooned coverlet she sat on. Running full-speed toward peace? He’d been trying to do that for the last five years but inside...he was paralyzed.

  “And you?” He broke the silence. “Could you see yourself like Kat? Loving a man who couldn’t father children?”

  A fine line formed between her brows as bewilderment swept across her face.

  “Never mind.” He grated the words out. What was he thinking? There was no future for them. Nothing had changed. He still didn’t deserve her. He turned his attention to the stuffed animals that dotted the bed.

  Liz fiddled with Lucas’s blanket, confusion lingering in the brown-and-green flecks of her eyes. “What do you mean?”

  Moments ticked by with only Lucas’s rhythmic breathing to break the silence. Riggen felt as if opportunity was knocking on a door he couldn’t open. No matter how he looked at it, he had lost.

  His fingers dug into the wood of the rocking chair. If the reason he couldn’t father children was God’s retribution for the lives Riggen couldn’t save, then who was he to grasp a forbidden life? But, if this new disquieting conviction that he had had God all wrong was right, then his own treatment of Liz had been unforgivable.

  He stared deep into her eyes, the flickering moonlight glinting in their depths. Either way, he didn’t deserve Elizabeth Hart and no matter how badly his arms itched to pull her close the way he once had, he needed to keep his distance.

  He tried to push an answer through his dry lips but his tongue tied as her eyes flickered with more intensity.

  Warning pinged in his brain. Too much intensity. That wasn’t the flickering of the moon. He jumped from the chair and yanked the window wide open. Smoke stung his eyes. Flames were licking up the legs of the pergola that covered the back deck.

  He pulled his phone out and dialed 9-1-1 as he squashed all of his renegade feelings back where they belonged. His emotions needed to go on the back burner before his family’s safety went up in flames.

  * * *

  Kat paced the front lawn, an angry mamma bear waiting to pounce on someone. Please, God, don’t let it be me. Liz buckled a still-sleeping Lucas into a car seat in the back of Riggen’s Bronco.

  She willed Riggen to finish his huddle with the Colorado Springs’ police officers and fire captain before Kat’s powerful attention turned her way. She couldn’t handle another lecture. The guilt was about to eat her alive. This was all her fault.

  Flames shot over the top of Kat and John’s rented home. The sight crushed any remaining shreds of courage she’d been holding. Danger and destruction were following her like a mountain lion after the kill. She’d always been more trouble than she was worth.

  Was that why Riggen had left?

  She inched as close as she could to the car seat and nuzzled her face into Lucas’s neck. Her brain was shutting down. It couldn’t handle her relentless need to process the situation. Who was behind this? Why terrorize her? Why had Riggen left? Why hadn’t he run again?

  John pushed his wheelchair toward the open door of the Bronco, his arm muscles bulging with each rotation over the ever-dampening grass. He ramped onto the driveway, a reassuring smile on his face, and pointed at her head. “You’re doing two things.”

  Liz sat straight and puffed her cheeks full of air before letting her sigh trickle out. He usually read what was going on under the surface and she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear what he saw. “What?”

  “First, you’re forgetting God loves you deeply and will take care of you.” He sent a covert glance at his wife before continuing. “And second, you’re forgetting Kat is not in control.”

  She couldn’t stop the snort that fell out.

  “As much as she can’t stand moving without you and Lucas, deep down she knows he’s your child.” A mask of sadness fell over John’s face. “We both understand the best place for him is with you.”

  Liz stared past John at the flames that refused to bow to the steady attack of water. Did they understand that? She wasn’t sure she did. “Even now? When I don’t know what’s going on or who is behind this?”

  John reached out to pat her knee. “You’re forgetting number one again. God will take care of you. He knows exactly who’s behind this. Besides—” he thumbed at Riggen, who was breaking away from the huddle and heading their way “—looks like He’s already sent you a protector.”

  Her heart skipped a beat as she caught Riggen’s bloodshot eyes. Had God sent Riggen? Is that why he hadn’t run again yet?

  As he got closer, she could see his face sported a five-o’clock shadow. He rubbed the back of his neck, his mouth a grim line. “The captain expects to have this under control soon.”

  He turned to John and laid a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Do you have somewhere to stay?”

  John nodded. “We’re leaving day after tomorrow. Most of our belongings are already packed up in the moving van. It won’t be a problem to hole up in a motel for the night.”

  “That would be best. I’m sorry to say this may delay your departure.”

  Kat joined them and hitched a hand to her hip. “Of course it will. Perfect.”

  Liz retreated into the interior of the Bronco.

  “Climb out of the car, Elizabeth. Lucas will need to go with us to the—”

  John placed a hand on his wife’s arm, halting her. “Number two.” He winked at Liz, his eyes tired but strong. “If—” he stressed the word “—you or Lucas need our help, you will always have a place to stay with us.”

  As Kat’s shocked look melted into an angry barrage, John wheeled himself back and shut Liz’s door.

  Riggen nodded at her brother-in-law and trotted around to the driver’s side, hopping in and locking the doors before Liz could process the fact that they were driving away from her sister’s home toward free road.

  EIGHT

  Buildings whizzed by as they left Colorado Springs behind for Interstate 24. Liz climbed over the armrest and settled into the front seat. She gripped the door handle. Nothing about tonight had been smooth riding.

  Riggen flipped the turn signal and merged. It was amazing that Lucas had never woken, even during the hoopla of the fire. She turned to look at her baby, tears blurring her view.

  She wiped them away. Lucas was curled up against the side of his car seat. And Yakub—a giggle blubbered past her tears—lay with his head in Lucas’s lap, guarding his pack’s newest addition.

  She closed her eyes and thanked God that Lucas hadn’t seen the flames. Or witnessed Kat’s displeasure. An invisible hand squeezed her chest. All of their belongings were in that house and it was hard to leave them behind. Now it would be up to Kat to pack up whatever survived the fire—just one more ball that she’d dropped.

  God willing, the fire would be contained before it destroyed a lifetime of memories. Five years of Lucas’s life. Pictures. Baby books. Toys. And her own memories.

  The only pictures she and Kat had of their family before Mom died, Dad disappeared, and they had landed in foster care. She stuffed her fist into her mouth to keep from crying out.

  Be strong and courageous. As brave as she pretended to be in front of Riggen, Liz wasn’t one-hun
dred-percent sure she was ready to be pushed onto this type of raging sea. She stared out the window. What are You doing, God?

  But what other choice did she have? The only step she could take was the one that led her closer to God. There was no other place to go. Unfortunately, that step was taking her closer to Riggen, as well. But she had to take it, even if it meant heading into the terrifying waves of past hurts.

  I will not be afraid. She hugged her arms around herself and pressed into the cracked leather of Riggen’s Bronco, opening her heart to peace. Who was behind this? And why now? She let her head bounce against the old seat as the truck careened down the highway.

  He changed lanes and passed a semi. Its beams flashed in his side mirrors and blinded her even as the lights of Colorado Springs faded behind them. But they weren’t turning off toward the main drag of Manitou. Instead, Riggen accelerated down the nearly empty highway.

  He raked his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know much about what your normal looks like anymore, but I’m assuming this hasn’t been a typical day.”

  She kicked her feet up on the dashboard and pointed her toes at the roof. “You’d be right about that.”

  “Have you had any harassment over the Sagebrush in the past?”

  “Not since the original post went viral.” She closed her eyes and remembered. “At first, Malcovitch was furious. But his threats—” she turned to Riggen “—which never escalated to this level, petered out after his sentencing. Then the story eventually sputtered down to nothing.”

  Riggen slowed to turn onto Serpentine Drive. They passed the entrance to Rainbow Falls and continued following curvy mountain roads.

  “Any renewed interest lately?”

  “In the Sagebrush article?” Her blog traffic had hit and remained at record levels after that post. But not solely because of it. Her brand—More Than A Destination—had been forged through hand-in-hand collaboration with regional tourism leaders. She’d worked hard to promote and display Colorado’s beauty and uniqueness. Her following had grown from there.