Riggen nodded as he analyzed every person who came close. Height, weight, build. Clothing. Ability to conceal a weapon. Jones shifted on Liz’s other side, his eyes constantly scanning.
Then Liz resumed moving. She sidestepped fellow travelers, pulling Lucas’s luggage behind her. They made their way to the checkpoint and found John and Kat right where Kat had said they’d be.
As soon as Lucas spotted his aunt and uncle, he wriggled in Riggen’s arms, begging to be put down. He sprinted in his uncle’s direction when his feet hit the floor. Then he was clambering into the wheelchair as if he’d been doing it his entire life.
He probably had. Jealousy slicked through Riggen.
Yakub skidded to a stop next to John and nosed his snout under the man’s hand. John laughed. “Who’s your new friend?”
“Yakub! He’s coming wif me!” Lucas bounced in John’s lap, unaware of the scowl that flitted across Kat’s face.
Riggen caught it. He also caught the whispered conversation between the sisters. Kat was less than pleased with Lucas’s new companion.
Lucas leaned over the arm of John’s chair and scratched behind Yakub’s ear. “He has siwwy hair like me.”
John laughed and patted Yakub’s dappled head. “Special, not silly.”
Lucas’s eyes drifted to Riggen. He zeroed in on his hairline. “Riggen has special hair, too.”
“Of course he does,” Kat blurted. “That’s because he’s—”
Liz’s frantic gaze bounced between Riggen and Lucas before she put a hand on her sister’s arm, cutting off the woman’s words. “Because he’s special, too.”
Riggen shifted from one foot to the other, all eyes on him.
“Well...” John broke the tension that had descended like a low-flying airplane. “I think it’s time we head through Security. It’ll take a while for me to get situated.”
And with that Liz was kneeling and holding out her arms. Lucas catapulted himself into her, knocking her backward. Riggen couldn’t swallow past the sudden knot in his throat as Lucas held tight to Liz.
When he had been not much older than Lucas, he had held on to his own mother that way. She had been leaving for her last trip to the hospital. His arms had held as tightly as Lucas’s were, but that hadn’t made a difference. Riggen hadn’t been able to do anything to save his mother. She never came home.
The memory burned Riggen’s throat. He would stake his life on the fact that Liz and Lucas would be reunited. Riggen would make sure of it.
Liz’s face was hidden in her son’s hair, but Riggen could still hear the tears in her voice. “Be good for Aunt Kat and Uncle John. I’ll see you when I’m finished with work.”
Lucas nodded.
She leaned back. Her cheeks were damp, and Lucas wiped away the wetness. “Don’t cry, Momma. Riggen promised to keep you safe.”
She met his eyes over Lucas’s head at the same time Kat mumbled under her breath, “You wouldn’t have to keep her safe if she knew where her place was.”
Anger rocked him like summer thunder. He clenched his fists and took a deep breath. “I’m sure your support is everything to Liz.”
Kat opened her mouth then clamped it shut again, her hands tightening on the back of John’s wheelchair.
“Say goodbye to Mr. Price.” Liz steadied Lucas on his feet and pushed him Riggen’s way.
As Lucas walked to him, Riggen’s heart melted in his chest. He squatted and looked his son in the eyes, man-to-man.
“I’ll take very good care of Yakub.”
Riggen set Lucas on his thigh and whistled Yakub to their side. “He loves to play fetch at sunset.”
Lucas shifted until he could see John. “Do we have a ball?”
“I think we can find one.”
Lucas turned back to Riggen, his gray eyes serious. “I can do that.”
Unable to stop himself, Riggen held his son close. Purpose pulsed through his veins. No threat, no amount of distance and no past failures could hold him back from pursuing a relationship with his son.
The sliver of hope that had flickered and waned for the past few days started to burn with intensity. There was no way God would want him to keep his distance from his child. Liz said that’s not how God worked. His sin against Liz might be irredeemable, but he no longer believed their reunion was a coincidence. God had a purpose.
And that purpose was tightening tiny arms around his neck. Riggen breathed deeply and ran full-speed into hope.
TWELVE
“It’ll take two hours to reach Denver.” Liz’s seat belt cut into her as she leaned out the open window, watching planes fly overhead. After a few moments, she settled back in her seat and turned to Riggen.
“I reserved an extra room at the Kimpton Hotel Monaco. They placed you across the hall from me.”
He didn’t respond. Just stared.
She plucked at her sleeve. “The Kimpton is unique. You should enjoy it.”
He continued staring. Rocking back and forth, she stuck her hands under her thighs. “What?”
His phone buzzed in the cup holder, but he ignored it. “When will we tell Lucas who I am?”
She stared at the phone. It rattled around, knocking an old French fry to the floor. Her stomach growled. Picking up the fry, she tossed it outside. “Do you really want to discuss this now?”
Officer Jones lounged in his police SUV, waiting to leave. She’d rather not have this conversation with an audience. Then again, she’d rather not have it at all.
Swift conviction plunged between her desire to avoid any conversation that might make Riggen a real part of her life and the sight of his heart in his eyes. She sighed. “I want to trust you.”
“But?”
“What happens to Lucas when you leave again?”
He winced. “Last night I told you I want to be there for you, that includes Lucas. I don’t plan on disappearing again. Ever.”
“You didn’t plan on it when you gave me an engagement ring.” She squeezed her hands together. “I want to believe you. I do.” She narrowed her eyes. “I’m not over what you did. I guess I’m saying I’m not ready to tell Lucas.”
Color flared up Riggen’s neck to his face then vanished as swiftly as it had come. He was white as the clouds, but he simply nodded before turning to start the truck.
The buzzing in the cup holder began again. He grabbed the phone and hit Speaker, setting it back into the holder as they pulled out of the lot.
“Good news and bad news.” Rosche’s voice battled with the clunk of the engine.
Riggen pulled into traffic. “Let’s hear the good news.”
“Pikes Peak Chocolate has security cameras.”
“Catch anything?”
“A woman handing Lucas the toy.” Rosche’s excitement danced across the connection. “Liz’s back is to Lucas. You were busy ordering. The woman was in and out so fast, even the camera almost missed her.”
“ID?”
“You’ll never guess who it is.” Rosche didn’t give them the time. “Kris Dupree.”
Silence followed the theatrical unveil. Riggen shot Liz a look. “Did you bring her in?”
“Can’t find her.” Rosche’s tone was more subdued. “We’re waiting for a warrant to search her place.”
“Thanks for letting me know.” Riggen reached toward the cup holder but Rosche’s voice stilled it midair.
“No problem. But you haven’t heard the bad news yet.”
“That wasn’t it?”
“Nope. I went to the jail. Our guy’ll only talk to you.”
Riggen slowed at a red light, his face a picture of confusion. “Me? I’m heading to Denver.”
Liz reached over and squeezed his arm. When he focused on her, she mouthed, We have time.
He nodded and pressed the gas as the light turne
d back to green. “Let El Paso know I’m on the way. We’ll see what this guy has to say.”
* * *
Metal doors clanged behind Riggen as he waited for their perpetrator from the hospital. He shifted in his chair. White surfaces melded together in every direction, creating a colorless, creeping dread.
He’d been here an eternity already. He tilted his wrist and sighed. It’d only been thirty minutes. But when Liz had said they had time, he doubted she’d meant all day.
He kicked at the opposite chair. He wanted the freedom of open mountain air so bad he could almost taste it.
The click of a lock and the whoosh of the door announced his suspect. He straightened. The corrections officer walked his man in.
Same guy he’d locked eyes with in the hospital. Now his hands and legs were shackled but, even in an orange jumpsuit, he oozed an aura of danger.
He clanked to the table and eased down. Midfifties, white hair, dead eyes.
Riggen tented his hands on the table. “You have information?”
“Make it worth my time.” The man smiled. He tongued discolored teeth.
“That’s wasted on me.” Riggen held up a finger to signal the officer. He wasn’t playing the game. “Rosche was the one to negotiate with.”
“I like your hair,” the guy drawled.
“I like your jumpsuit. I didn’t come to trade—”
“Knew a woman with hair like that.” He jerked his chin at Riggen’s cowlick. “When that elevator opened and I saw you... What can I say?” He pounded his chest with a manacled hand. “Maybe there’s a heart here, after all. I only planted one device.”
Waves of heat and cold threatened to knock Riggen from his chair. He refused to blink. Just an everyday conversation. “I guess I should thank you?”
The man shrugged.
“There were supposed to be more explosions?”
“Oh yeah.”
“That won’t go well for you when your boss finds out.”
The man held his cuffed hands in front of him in mock supplication. “You wouldn’t want any harm to come to your momma’s special friend.”
Riggen surged to his feet, his chair squealing against the tiled floor. “Who ordered the hit? I’ll see what we can do.”
“You look just like your momma. Bet she never did tell you who your daddy was.” The man grinned like a Cheshire cat, looking for all the world as if it meant nothing to him.
Riggen fisted his hands to hide the shaking and leaned on the table, staring down this new enemy, hoping he wouldn’t see anything of himself staring back. “Name.”
“Kris Dupree.”
“We’re done.” He turned on his heel and stalked from the room, the man’s laughter echoing behind him.
* * *
“I’ve just never been so wrong about a person before.” As the words were coming out of Liz’s mouth, she bloomed a pretty shade of pink and looked everywhere but at him.
She had to be thinking of when she’d been wrong about him. Riggen executed the last turn toward Denver. “They’ll double down on Kris’s past and any possible links to you. Had you met her before you checked in at the Juniper? What possible connection do you share?”
“I’ve already been racking my brain, even while you were in the jail. I just keep coming up blank.”
He scratched the shadow of a beard that wouldn’t stop growing. He didn’t have time to shave. “She could just be another player.”
“In a game I wish were over.” Liz sighed.
“Rosche sent a picture to Denver PD. The security teams at the Kimpton and the convention center, too. If Kris shows her face in Denver, we’ll be ready.”
Each rotation of the wheels carried them closer to the next possible threat. He snuck a look at Liz from the corner of his eye. She was leaning against the window, her eyes closing. She was exhausted.
He should just turn west and deposit Liz safely with John and Kat in California. He shook his head. That would only work if he could be sure the distance would guarantee safety.
Liz’s head bobbed in sleep as the forested wilderness slowly evolved into suburbs. They’d hit Denver at the height of its rush-hour glory, and he eased the brake, navigating them through the stop-and-go traffic. Liz stirred as they passed Coors Field.
He reached over and squeezed her hand. “Almost there.”
She rubbed sleep from her eyes and ran her fingers through her hair. “Thanks.” Her voice held a rumble of sleep.
He stared at the high-rise buildings they were driving past. Fortresses of steel and concrete closed them in. Hitting Champa Street, he pulled up to the Kimpton Hotel Monaco Denver.
They were greeted by a uniformed valet before he’d even shifted into Park. Riggen chuckled as he handed over the keys to his rust bucket. He tugged his Colorado Rockies cap on and followed Liz inside.
She led him through the living-room lobby to a sleek front desk and introduced herself to the staff.
“We’ve readied your rooms, Ms. Hart.” Their hostess slid room keys across the glossy black surface. “Let us know how we can make your stay more pleasant.”
Liz thanked her before crossing in front of the room’s fireplace. Riggen sidestepped a yellow armchair to follow.
She stepped into the elevator and moved aside for him. “I’ll check in at the American Travel booth after we freshen up.”
He squeezed in between a luggage cart and the wall. Another couple piled in and Liz stifled a giggle as he inched even closer with exaggerated exasperation.
He stopped a hairbreadth from her, his hand brushing against hers, and she didn’t pull away. New hope breathed to life.
He leaned close. “When do you want to head over?”
She rocked back on her heels and tilted her head until they were looking eye-to-eye. “It’s not cheap, you’ll have to pay full admission price.”
“Trevor has a booth. He’ll get me in.”
Her shoulders rose and fell. “It’ll be long. Presentations tonight. Tomorrow, too. Not to mention, Kimberly East from American Travel wants someone manning the booth constantly.”
They exited the elevator and their footsteps were muffled against plush carpet. Liz’s steps slowed the closer they came to their rooms. When they reached her door, she slid her keycard into the reader then kicked her overnight bag inside and slouched against the door frame. He slid around her to check the bathroom and closet.
She didn’t look up as he rejoined her. He nudged her foot with his own.
She pushed off the doorjamb as if pulled from a trance, her face blank. Inching closer, she reached a hand to his face. His heart thundered in his throat, but she only shoved his ball cap back. “Maybe this was a bad idea. I should’ve found someone else.”
The change from elevator to room catapulted him into a pool of confusion. “Someone else for what?”
“For protection. I’m sure you know someone on Denver PD who’d do a good job.” Her last sentence came out as more of a question than a statement.
He took a step closer and tipped her chin up with his index finger. Peering into her eyes, he tried to see past this new façade. “What’s going on?”
Her eyes slid shut. “This is so much. You’ll just disappear when it’s too hard to handle.”
This was all his fault. “I know it doesn’t hold much weight at this point, but I’m not going anywhere.”
“I overheard you with Rosche at the Incline.”
He pulled back. “Okay...about what?”
“About the fact that you’re messing up your promotion.”
“I haven’t messed up anything other than my relationship with you.” He held his arms open, inviting. “I mean that.”
She took one step forward then stopped. She opened her mouth. Shut it. Then stared over his shoulder into space.
“
What is it?”
“You didn’t care about our relationship until you saw Lucas’s picture. Would you still want to be in my life if I didn’t have him?” She ducked under his arms and slipped through her open door. “Because I don’t have him now.” Her door closed before he processed what was happening.
He turned to knock, but his pocket started buzzing. He pulled out his phone. Rosche. Moving to his door instead, he slid his finger along the answer button.
“We got the warrant. Dupree’s place is trashed. Looks like a struggle.” She was breathless. The thrill of the chase radiated from every word.
“No sign of Kris?” He slammed his door behind him.
“None.” She clicked her tongue. “Unravel that mess. Prime suspect missing in what looks to be an abduction. We found a burner phone wedged under an overturned couch. It’s a smartphone model.” She sounded giddy. “The GPS location services were enabled. You’ll never guess what I found when I checked the frequently visited places.”
“What?”
“Your family’s property. Coordinates are farther up the mountainside than the actual cabin, but you know how it goes. They can be off a good amount.”
The room spun. He sank onto the nearest chair. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“This case doesn’t make sense.” She forged ahead. “I wanted to give you a heads-up.”
He hit End Call and kicked off his boots. Why would Kris be at his property? Not to see him. That left one other person. He hit speed dial.
Trevor picked up on the second ring. “What’s up?”
“Do you know a woman by the name of Kris Dupree?”
There was a pause from the other side of the line. “The Juniper’s concierge?”
“Yeah.”
“Sure.” Trevor said. “We just started booking excursions through her. Why?”
“Any reason she’d be out at the cabin? Or anywhere on our property?” Might as well get to the heart of the matter.
“No.” His brother dragged out the word into what sounded like a question. “What’s going on?”
Treacherous Mountain Investigation Page 11