Treacherous Mountain Investigation

by Stephanie M. Gammon

  She took one step toward the door. They didn’t understand. How could they? Their lives weren’t balancing on getting to that show. Visions of Lucas climbing into bed with Kat and thinking she was his momma spurred her on.

  Then she was tipping like a felled blue spruce. She grasped for something to grab on to but caught empty air. She was going over. The floor rose to meet her in slow motion.

  Then an arm slid under her stomach, catching her before she face-planted into ugly hospital tile. Riggen pulled her into his arms and turned her until she was safely cradled against his neck.

  But the dizziness didn’t stop. It hit her in wave after wave. She squirmed. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

  He nodded and grabbed the bedpan from the rolling table. When there was nothing left in her stomach, he carried her back to her bed, lowering her onto its surface. Her eyes were closed but she felt Riggen’s fingers drift across her forehead.

  Trevor cleared his throat. “I think I can help.”

  Liz groaned. She’d forgotten about Trevor.

  Riggen’s voice was tight as he spoke for her. “How?”

  “I’m having lunch with Kim today. I could try to explain what’s been happening. Smooth it out a bit.”

  Liz sat straight, immediately regretting the motion but needing to clarify. “You’re having lunch with Kimberly East?”

  Trevor shrugged. “We go way back.”

  “That’s a great idea.” Riggen pulled her hand into his own. Gray concern overflowed from his eyes. “If you can’t make it two steps across the floor, you can’t possibly work all day. You need to call in and let the chips fall where they will. Maybe Trevor can smooth it over.”

  She hated that he was right. She nodded her consent and Trevor left them alone.

  All she could do was sit back and trust. She settled against the cold, hard hospital pillow. Riggen’s fingers tightened around her own and she let her lids droop.

  She’d trust that whatever was going on, God would work it out for her good. Because whatever chance she had with American Travel had just walked out the doorway and down the hall.

  * * *

  A nurse had been in to let them know Liz was clear to go, but the woman in question was still asleep, her fingers curled in his palm. Riggen stretched out his legs and leaned back into the uncomfortable faux-leather armchair. She’d been out for hours.

  He closed his eyes and listened to her breathing. He could sit there and listen all day. The sound meant she was alive. God had answered his prayer.

  Now what was he going to do? Trevor was right, he was at the end of his rope. Riggen didn’t know what to do next. He’d made a promise to Lucas to take care of his mother. He slipped his hand from Liz’s and crossed his arms over his chest. He couldn’t figure out what to do with emotions clouding his mind.

  This wave of danger seemed unending. Unending and unidentifiable. He couldn’t continue watching Liz be prey.

  She may not belong to him, but that didn’t mean he’d stand by and watch her be hurt. Sure, he’d hurt her himself, and he’d rewind his mistake in a second if he could. But now it was someone else bent on hurting her. Some faceless enemy he’d happily decimate if he knew where to find them. He wasn’t going to let them close again. Not while there was fight left in his body.

  He drew his foot up and crossed it over his knee. Maybe there was something to what her brother-in-law taught. Deep down—where he couldn’t lie to himself—he saw today that there was no guarantee he could keep Liz safe. No guarantee he could keep her from pain. No guarantee he could keep himself from pain.

  He shoved his hands through his hair. Maybe if he ran full-throttle after today, then he could let tomorrow worry about itself. Something surfaced in his memory, dim and watery, misshapen from years of neglect. As it took form, he could hear Dad’s voice. Life is a mist. You appear, then you disappear. Live for God, it’s the only thing that lasts.

  He slammed his eyes shut to catch hold of Dad’s voice before it floated away. What wouldn’t he give to run after life instead of living in this paralysis of fear?

  It’s what Dad had taught him after he’d been adopted as a Price. It’s even what his mother had embraced before she’d died. He’d never bought into it, but after meeting John, he was drawn to how the man wholeheartedly lived it.

  Riggen’s phone buzzed in his pocket and he leaned to the side to pull it out. Soreness pulled at his strained muscles. He swiped open the screen. Incoming message from Alex. He drew a deep breath, his nostrils widening at the effort to keep silent. Finally.

  Got address for your commenter.

  The stiff plastic of the chair squeaked under him as his body tensed. He typed a reply.

  Great. Send it over.

  His phone lit again but it wasn’t with the information he wanted. Confusion had him in a headlock.

  “What is it?” Liz’s voice was slow and slurred from sleep. She rolled toward him and placed a hand on his arm, grazing the phone with her ponderous movement. He lost hold and it slid across the floor.

  “I’m not sure.” He stood and walked to the neglected food cart, where his phone had come to a stop. “Alex just got back to me.”

  He hunkered down, pulled the device from under the rolling cart and studied the new text again.

  Are you pulling my chain?

  “That’s good, isn’t it?” She sat up, peering at him with tired eyes.

  He walked to the door of Liz’s room and held the phone in his palm, his thumbs hovering over the keypad, the wheels in his mind whirling.

  What was Alex saying?

  No. Why?

  The answer hit his backlit screen and his entire world shook. There were multiple moments he wished he could reverse in life. Asking that question was one of them.

  The comment was posted from Price Adventure Excursions.

  SIXTEEN

  He was driving her away from the center of Denver, not toward it. Liz shifted in her seat so she could see Riggen without straining her neck. “Where are we going?”

  Riggen wore a scowl she’d never seen before. His eyes were glued to the cars in front of them, his fingers beating against the steering wheel to a tune only he could hear.

  “Riggen?” The weird silence that had started in her hospital room hung between them like a fog. She still didn’t know what Alex had said. The not knowing tumbled suspicion through her head like a rockslide.

  Her nurse had arrived with discharge paperwork the moment after Alex’s text. The following flurry of activity had eliminated any chance to question Riggen.

  She reached across the armrest and tapped his shoulder. His entire body jerked. The rockslide crashed into her stomach. What was going on?

  They’d been in pretty tense situations this week, and he’d yet to lose his cool. She pinched the skin on her wrist as sweat started to trickle down her back. What had Alex said that gagged him into silence?

  Pulling one leg up under her, she angled toward him. “What’s going on?”

  He didn’t take his eyes from the winding line of cars that snaked out in front of them and her attention drifted from traffic to driver then back again. He needed to turn around. The convention center was behind them.

  He signaled to merge onto the entrance ramp and jerked his head at the hazy horizon. “We need to disappear.”

  “Um...” Her voice wavered as she pulled her other leg up to sit cross-legged. “You’re officially freaking me out.”

  “Denver isn’t safe.” He ramped onto the highway and pressed the gas. The snow-peaked Rockies met the clouds and mist with pastel watercolor beauty. Traffic cleared as they drove away from the city and hit open freeway.

  Denver’s high-rise buildings disappeared in the rearview mirror along with all hope. Anxiety crashed around in her stomach and climbed up her throat. “I need to get to the expo.�
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  “It isn’t safe.”

  “Nowhere is safe, Riggen. Take me back.” She puffed her cheeks with air and blew it out again.

  He just kept driving. She glared out the window at the mountains she loved. He was making another decision for her and there wasn’t a thing she could do to stop him. All fight had melted from her body. Her head throbbed and she hovered on the edge of collapse.

  Slumping her shoulder against the cool window, she slid her lids closed. She’d figure it out when they got...well, when they got to whatever destination Riggen had in mind.

  Halfway between Denver and the Air Force Academy, Riggen’s phone buzzed from the cup holder. Trevor’s name rolled across the screen. Instinctively, she grabbed for it.

  Had he smoothed things over with Kimberly? The woman had been less than happy when Liz had called to explain she wouldn’t make another session. If Trevor’s charm worked on American Travel’s editor-in-chief, then Liz could stop worrying that the damage done by her chaotic life was irreparable.

  Riggen’s hand grasped hers midair. “Don’t.” His voice was granite. Cold and hard.

  “But—”

  “Do you trust me?” He cut through her objection and caught her eyes with his, her hand still encased in his grip.

  She pulled back as his question rolled over her. “Do I trust you?”

  And in that moment it was as if someone had installed one of those preposterous epiphany lightbulbs above her head and given Riggen the string.

  She shook her head, rebelling against the truth her heart was pounding. It was as clear as pure mountain water. Against all that made sense, she trusted him.

  She must have hit her head harder than she’d thought. “Why in the world would I trust you?”

  He slashed a look her way. “Right. Well, either way, I’ll explain later. Right now I need to think.”

  Her body started to shiver and fatigue wilted her into her seat. He needed to think? She pressed her fingers into her aching temples. She needed to do the opposite. She needed to get as far from her rebellious thoughts as she could.

  Maybe for this moment, she’d let him do the thinking. What else could she do? She was beat-up, nauseated, targeted. Ready to throw in the towel. She let the roar of tires on concrete lull her into the muddled bliss of dreamland.

  Riggen braked the Bronco and she jolted awake. She sat up and looked around. He was pulling them into Manitou PD’s station. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

  He parked the Bronco and walked around to open her door. His muscles rippled under his thermal shirt as he hefted her duffel from the floor. He stuffed his stack of Price Adventure Excursion files into his own bag then reached in and pulled her into his arms. He kicked the door shut behind them and carried her as though she weighed no more than Lucas.

  She turned her face away as he strode up to the entry door and entered a code into the mounted keypad. The heavy metal door clicked open.

  She pushed against his hard chest. “Put me down.”

  He cocked an eyebrow but set her down on the sloped concrete of the parking lot. She stumbled back and threw her hands out, grabbing at his shoulders to keep from falling. He slipped his hands around her waist.

  She might have had a concussion and felt like she’d just taken a tumble down Pikes Peak, but she wasn’t about to let her ex-fiancé carry her across any thresholds. Their relationship was still as unsteady as her own footing.

  His hands weren’t unsteady, though. They stayed firm on her waist, guiding her through the entry and into a long corridor with doors opening on either side. He reached around her, his arms enveloping her, to turn the knob on the closest door.

  They walked inside a small galley-style kitchen and Riggen dropped his keys on the Formica countertop before guiding her through to what appeared to be the station break room. It was empty. No sign of anyone else.

  She stumbled past a rickety old dining table that looked like a relic from the eighties. Her eyes zeroed in on a faded red couch situated just under a massive poster with America’s top ten Most Wanted criminals. Cozy.

  The worn cushions called to her. She sidestepped a coffee table and collapsed onto the soft surface, her eyes shutting in relief. She sat still, unable to muster the energy to ask what was coming next.

  She didn’t open her eyes back up until a blanket was draped over her. Riggen stepped back and pulled a brown folding chair from under the table, turned it around, and straddled it. He rested his elbows on the back while she tugged the emergency blanket he had covered her with to her chin.

  She kicked off her shoes and wiggled her feet into the corner of the couch. “So what’s going on?”

  “Alex found out more than I expected.” Anger edged his voice.

  “That’s great, isn’t it? What are our next steps?”

  A flash of pain, swift as summer lightning, lit his eyes. She would have missed it if she had blinked. He tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling. “I’ll know more after I update Rosche. For now, let’s finally get some rest, lay low and recover.”

  She fell back into the cushions. She did need rest. But she needed to get back to Denver more. Whatever this development was, she hoped Rosche would act on it fast. And by fast, she meant by the end of the nap she was about to take because the ceiling tiles over her head were flexing in an optical illusion that made her stomach heave. A nap was nonnegotiable at this point.

  She squinted at Riggen. “Tomorrow is my last chance. If I don’t get back to Denver and clear this mess up, I might as well say goodbye to the job.”

  He didn’t say a thing and his silence only increased the roil of her stomach. She pulled the coarse blanket over her head and pressed it into her face. It smelled like disinfectant and car tires. She still had the Trevor card. If Trevor had put in a good word for her, it might not be so bleak.

  Footsteps clunked against linoleum. She pushed the blanket aside to see Riggen’s back as he disappeared through the break room door. Then again, maybe it was hopeless.

  * * *

  He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t tell Liz everything was going to be okay. Not when the sky in his own world was falling. Riggen stomped into Rosche’s office across from the kitchen and closed the door.

  He leaned against it and pinched the bridge of his nose. How in the world had he missed this? Trevor had been the one unchangeable in his life. How had he overlooked the fact that his beloved brother was entangled with the likes of Sammy Malcovitch?

  He pushed off the door and stalked to the window. He’d been a fool to start believing God wasn’t punishing him for his mistakes. What else could this be? He was a trained officer. An experienced soldier. How could he miss the signs?

  Unless God had hidden them from him. Liz’s voice echoed through his mind. That’s not how God works. But the shame and rage overtaking him drowned her words out.

  He’d been so young when they’d met the Prices at a soup kitchen in Colorado Springs. Too young to understand most kids didn’t eat Christmas dinner at soup kitchens. Too young to understand what his mom had been caught up in.

  Instead of dinner, she’d found a new life that night. And when Mr. Price had brought them home to his ranch and given Mom a job cooking for the ranch hands, Riggen had immediately latched onto the older Trevor, shadowing the teen’s every move.

  Trevor had been there ever since. He’d comforted Riggen when Mom died. He’d been the one to break the news of Dad’s death. And after Iraq? Well, Trevor was the one who’d helped him pick up the pieces and move on.

  Now nothing made sense. If Trevor was in on this, that meant he was working with Sammy Malcovitch and Kris Dupree. There had to be some feasible explanation. A detail they were overlooking or a missing piece to this messed-up puzzle. He didn’t want to believe that Trevor was in on these attacks.

  Sunlight poured through beat-up vinyl blind
s and spilled onto the desk behind him, marking the smooth glass top with parallel lines of light. He peered through the blinds then slammed his fist into the window frame.

  Pain spread like wildfire into his bicep and shoulder. It was nothing compared to the betrayal winding itself around his chest, bending and twisting until he doubled over. Why? He gripped the window ledge. Why would Trevor go after Liz?

  Because his mistakes were coming around to slug him in the gut. There was no getting around it.

  Riggen didn’t know how long he huddled there before his phone started pulsating with an incoming call. He grabbed at it. It better be Rosche. And she better have answers.

  He held the phone to his ear. “What do you have?”

  “It’s not good.” Rosche clicked her tongue. “I’m pulling footage from the novelty store across the street. Their camera is pointed right at Price Adventure Excursions. It looks as though Trevor was at the office during the entire timeframe.”

  “Anyone else?” He walked to the desk and sat down, pushing a stack of notepaper across the smooth surface.

  “Yeah,” she answered. “Kris.”

  “Why?” The cry erupted from his gut and he swept his fist across the desktop, sending notepaper flying to the floor in a flurry of white.

  “Dude,” Rosche whispered, “I can’t imagine.”

  “What’s the motive?” he asked, more for himself than Rosche. He’d been around and around this merry-go-round and kept coming up empty. He needed to get it into the air.

  “Maybe she posted the comment without his knowledge?” Rosche threw out. “But that doesn’t factor in the smartphone we found with your family’s property in the frequent locations. Trevor being involved fits.”

  He flicked the one remaining sheet of notepaper to the floor, Trevor’s denial that Kris had ever been to the property flitting through his mind. “It does, but he’s my brother. I don’t want to jump to conclusions.” Not that the desire was stopping him.