Rocky Mountain Revenge

by Rhonda Starnes

  That might have been when Chloe’s need to video chat when she was in scary situations first developed. She would call Grace at all hours of the night, so she wouldn’t feel alone when Dad had been called out to tend to sick animals. Chloe hadn’t been left home alone often, but obviously enough for the seeds of dependency to take root.

  The screen blurred. She squeezed her eyes tight, fighting the tears burning for release. Thank you, Lord, for letting me get to Chloe before he could kill her. I’ll never complain about her need to video chat again.

  “She’ll be okay.” Evan’s soft baritone filled the silence.

  Grace appreciated his attempt to comfort her, but he couldn’t know that any more than she did. She concentrated on her breathing as she tried to think of a response.

  “I know they sound like empty words. But I mean it. Chloe’s a fighter. Always has been.”

  “Are we talking about the same girl?” What did he know? When Grace dated him, they’d spent most of their time trying to avoid Chloe with her prying eyes and her constant desire to tag along wherever they went. “Growing up, she never did anything for herself. Always wanting help with her homework and dragging me to the barn to help feed her menagerie of animals.”

  “That wasn’t because she needed help or because she was scared. It was because she loved you and wanted to spend as much time with you as possible. She always knew you’d leave Blackberry Falls.”

  She sucked in a breath. His words hit like a verbal jab to the heart. His gaze met hers. Breaking contact, she looked down, pretending to focus on the computer screen, tears stinging the backs of her eyes.

  Evan cleared his throat. “Other than Chloe’s concerns about the clinic, is there anything else going on in her life that might help us determine who’s behind the attack?”

  “You mean besides her divorce?”

  “For the moment, yes.”

  Ben Hamilton’s name came to mind. How did one accuse their father’s oldest friend and lifelong neighbor of attempted murder? And for what, a mere eighty acres of land? She rubbed the back of her neck.

  “Come on. Out with it. Even if you think it’s nothing. We can’t afford to overlook any leads.”

  “Chloe has been receiving letters—offers to buy the farm—from Benjamin Hamilton. He’s been getting more persistent lately, even going so far as to tell her why a woman shouldn’t live on a farm alone.” She sighed. “Looks like he was right. She should have sold to him.”

  He smiled at her. “Not necessarily. And since we can’t change the past, we need to focus on the here and now, which means solving this crime and stopping the attacker from getting to you.”

  Grace’s temples throbbed. Please don’t be a migraine. She clicked the laptop off, shut the lid and then slipped it into the bag. Leaning back in her seat, she rubbed her tired eyes.

  “You didn’t find anything useful?”

  “I’m not sure what I’m looking for, and my head is starting to hurt.” She looked around, trying to figure out where they were. Somewhere along I-25. In the dark, it was hard to tell where exactly. “How much farther?”

  “We’re almost to the Castle Rock exit. I’d say we’re about forty minutes away.”

  That sounded about right. For the most part, traffic had been light on the drive, but as they got closer to Denver, it would pick up, though 2:00 a.m. traffic wouldn’t be anything like the rush hour traffic she’d experienced the evening before. Had it really been less than seven hours since she’d traveled this road in the opposite direction?

  “Grace, do you think James could be behind the attack?”

  She sat straighter and shifted to look at his profile. “I’m not sure. Before tonight I would have said there was no way. I worried that they’d rushed into marriage. You know, they only dated four months, but from the very beginning, he seemed to dote on her. I first sensed something was wrong at Dad’s funeral, but even then, Chloe wouldn’t confide in me. It wasn’t until...”

  He prodded. “Until what?”

  Grace had been sworn to secrecy. Did she have the right to share Chloe’s secret shame? If James was behind the attack, it could be important to the case. She worried her lower lip.

  “Grace. Until what?”

  “A year ago, Chloe admitted James had a gambling problem. He’d put them thousands of dollars in debt. She asked me for a loan.”

  “Did you give it to her?”

  “Of course I did. Then a few months ago, right before she filed the divorce paperwork, Chloe confided James had a mistress. Apparently, it wasn’t his first.”

  “Oh, man. It’s common knowledge James can be overly friendly to the ladies, but I didn’t know he’d cheated on Chloe. Do you know the name of his mistress?”

  “I don’t remember the name. It was one of the vet techs. Chloe fired her, so she doesn’t work at the clinic any longer.”

  “Marcia O’Neal,” Evan stated. “I thought it was odd she took a job at the veterinary hospital in Colorado Springs but continued to live in Blackberry Falls, driving an hour each way to work.”

  The fact Marcia O’Neal’s new job and commute were common knowledge to the chief of police, and most likely ninety percent of the population of Blackberry Falls, didn’t shock Grace, but she was thankful at least some of her sister’s marital woes had escaped the grapevine.

  Hope sparked in her. “If James is behind the attack, why would I be a target? Do you think it was an empty threat to throw us off the trail?”

  “Um, I don’t think so. For starters, you saw the attacker’s face...” He glanced in the rearview mirror and increased his speed. “And it seems we picked up a tail around the Castle Rock exit.”

  Grace looked out the rear window, the headlights of a vehicle gaining on them temporarily blinding her. Turning back around, she blinked several times to regain focus. “If they’ve been following us for ten miles, why didn’t you try to lose them sooner?”

  “I wasn’t sure the truck was following us until a couple of miles back. When I sped up and passed those two 18-wheelers, it made every move I did.”

  “What do we do? We can’t lead them to Chloe.”

  “I don’t think getting to Chloe is their priority right now.”

  “Why do you say that?” She heard the panic in her own voice.

  “Because they’re making their presence well-known, staying almost bumper-to-bumper.”

  As if to punctuate his words, the full-size pickup rammed them from behind. Evan jerked the steering wheel to the right and took the exit ramp off the interstate.

  The pickup shadowed their every move.

  “Grace, get down!”

  The authority in his voice had her sliding to the floor as a bullet hit the rear window of their SUV, passed through her headrest and embedded itself in the dashboard.

  The threat hadn’t been a ruse.

  Someone wanted her dead.

  * * *

  Evan had no clue where they were, but estimated Denver city limits was approximately twenty miles away. He hated being in unfamiliar surroundings. His only hope was to lose the vehicle in one of the many suburban neighborhoods and get back on the interstate as soon as possible.

  “Are you going to be able to lose him?”

  “I’ll do my best.” The light ahead turned yellow. He gunned the motor. “Hang on.” He sped into the intersection—thankful it was the middle of the night and there were no other vehicles around—and, at the last second, turned the wheel sharply to the left, barely missing a light pole. The driver of the truck shot through the intersection.

  “Whew. You did it!” Grace’s relief exhilarated him, but only momentarily because he knew the driver would maneuver a U-turn and be back on their tail.

  “I only bought us a little time. I’m sure he’s turning around as we speak.” He scanned the area as they sped past a drugstore
, gas station and small city park. Did he dare try to find a place to park in the hope the driver wouldn’t find them? There didn’t seem to be any place to hide, no other vehicles to blend in with. No. Keep moving.

  He turned right. Being in unfamiliar surroundings was like being a blindfolded mouse in a maze. He took a left turn and found himself in a neighborhood behind the park.

  Evan felt vulnerable. The area was too open. He looked at Grace. Her eyes were closed, her head bowed as if in prayer. She was as innocent as she’d always been. Let her hold to her faith, he’d trust in his own abilities. Flipping the switch on the end of the turn signal lever, he turned off his lights and inched along the sleepy neighborhood street. Headlights swept across the park.

  Guided only by the sliver of moonlight, he pulled to the curb and parked in-line with the other cars in front of a row of houses and waited for their pursuer to speed past the park. But the driver didn’t speed past. Instead, he turned onto the very street where they waited.

  No way to hide a Blackberry Falls police SUV in a Denver suburb. Evan bit back an exclamation, flicked on the lights and raced down the street as fast as he dared.

  “He found us.” Grace’s voice was barely above a whisper.

  “Yeah. But don’t count me out yet.” Evan tried to sound reassuring, but he could hear the doubt in his voice. Why hadn’t he changed vehicles? Driving this one was like flashing a neon sign telling the attacker where to find Grace.

  He made several turns, barely staying ahead of the other driver who’d backed off enough to allow himself time to follow Evan’s movements. No shots this time. Their pursuer was probably afraid of the prying eyes of a Neighborhood Watch member.

  Grace dug into her purse and pulled out her phone. “Shouldn’t we call nine-one-one?”

  “Only if I can’t lose him. In the meantime, use your phone to pinpoint our location. Just in case.”

  Relaying their exact location would be hard. With his lack of knowledge of the area, Evan couldn’t give street names or landmarks to guide the police. His best hope was that an officer cruising the night streets would come upon them speeding through town.

  He turned toward what he assumed was the main street and came to an immediate halt. A mechanical railroad-crossing arm blocked his path. The freight engine’s light pierced the night, its horn echoing in the silence.

  “What are we going to do?” Grace’s panicked voice was barely audible above the train’s horn.

  Their tormentor loomed behind them. They were easy targets for his bullets now. The truck reversed. The hair on the back of Evan’s neck prickled. The driver intended to make their deaths look like an accident.

  “Hang on to something. He’s going to hit us.” Evan engaged the emergency brake and pressed firmly on the floor brake while turning the steering wheel to the right. The SUV jolted, tires squealing and smoke billowing in through the air vents. The breaks held, the impact only moving them a few inches forward. The driver of the truck reversed again. He was building up speed.

  Evan released the emergency brake and turned the wheel even more sharply to the right, toward the service road that ran parallel to the tracks. If his plan worked, their attacker might crash, but he and Grace would escape without injury.

  “One... Two...” He counted, trying to time their escape. “Three.” He jerked the wheel and pressed the gas pedal to the floor when the truck was inches from hitting them. They flew along the service road, and he watched in his rearview mirror as the pickup did a donut spin and come to a stop pointed in the opposite direction. The driver had escaped the collision. It would be a matter of seconds before he started chasing them again. There was only one option.

  Picking up speed, Evan raced the train to the next intersection.

  “You’re going to try to outrun the train!” Horror tainted Grace’s accusation. He knew she was thinking about eleventh grade when Tommy Smithfield tried to cross in front of a train one time too many.

  “It’s our only option.” He didn’t dare spare a glance in her direction. “I’ll only cut in front of it if I know without a doubt I can make it. I promise.” Please, Lord, help me keep Grace safe. The prayer came unbidden. Would God answer Evan when he hadn’t spoken to Him in so long?

  Evan’s SUV was neck and neck with the train’s engine at the first intersection. He’d have to try the next one. The pursuing lights in his rearview mirror were gaining on them. The next intersection loomed ahead. Warning lights flashed and the mechanical arm started its descent. Evan pressed harder on the gas pedal, shooting forward. Thank you, Lord. They would make it.

  “Hang on,” he ordered Grace for what seemed like the umpteenth time.

  Grace’s scream mingled with the freight train’s horn.

  Evan’s heart jackhammered against his rib cage as they bounced across the tracks mere seconds ahead of the locomotive. He exhaled. They’d survived. The driver of the truck had been trapped on the other side of the tracks.

  Grace was curled into as tight of a ball as possible with her knees pulled to her chest, arms wrapped tightly around them and her head tucked. Her scream turned to sobs. He reached across and touched her arm. “It’s okay. We’re okay.”

  Evan’s throat tightened as guilt assailed him. If he had changed vehicles, or taken a different route, or something, maybe he could have avoided putting her through this additional trauma. He slid his hand down her arm and laced his fingers with hers, trying to offer calming comfort as his thumb caressed the back of her hand.

  He pushed the voice command button on the steering wheel and asked for directions to Denver Memorial that would avoid the interstate.

  Several minutes later, Grace’s sobs quieted, and she took several deep, concentrated breaths. She pulled her hand free. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lose it.”

  “You’ve had a traumatic evening.”

  “Yes, but I should have trusted you. I know you don’t take unnecessary chances.” She straightened, the seat squeaking with her movement, and peered at the clock on the dashboard: 2:36 a.m. They should have been at the hospital long ago. The cat and mouse game with the man who wanted her and Chloe dead had cost them half an hour.

  “How much farther?”

  “We should be there in about ten minutes.” He nodded toward the map displayed on the screen mounted above the radio. “Sorry, but I thought it best to stay off the interstate. It’s less likely our friend will find us this way.”

  “How did you program the map while...” Her words faltered.

  Holding her hand?

  “Voice command.” As if to qualify what he’d said, an animated voice directed him to turn at the next light.

  “What if the guy in the truck beats us to the hospital?”

  “I think we have a good chance of getting there and out of sight before him. I’ve been going well above the speed limit to stay ahead of him. Also, with as many hospitals as there are in the Denver metro area, unless he knows exactly which hospital Chloe was taken to, it’s likely he’ll end up at one of the other ones. No matter what, we’ll be on guard.”

  His cell phone rang, and he pushed the hands-free button on the steering wheel. “Bradshaw here.”

  “Evan, this is Ryan. You’re behind schedule. Is everything okay?”

  “We ran into a little trouble. But we’re okay. Only a few blocks away. Tell Bridget to watch for us.” He disconnected the call.

  The automated GPS voice directed him to turn right and take the second left, where they would reach their destination.

  He pulled into the ER drop-off area, and Grace unfastened her seat belt, ready to bolt through the doors as soon as he stopped.

  “Do not open your door.”

  “But—”

  “Bridget will meet us at the entrance. I’ll escort you inside, and she’ll park the vehicle.”

  Letting a civilian drive hi
s police vehicle broke all kinds of rules and regulations, but at this point Evan wasn’t ready to trust Grace’s safety to anyone other than himself.

  FOUR

  Every muscle in Grace’s body was on high alert, and she desperately wanted to spring out of the vehicle. It had been over three and a half hours since she’d watched the medics put her unresponsive sister into a med-flight helicopter. Much longer and she wouldn’t be able to suppress the frustrated scream that clawed at her throat begging for release.

  “I need a moment to assess the area and make sure we’re safe. Stay seated until I come around.” Evan slammed the vehicle into Park and bolted from the driver’s seat. He had barely stepped out of the SUV when a petite woman with short, pixie-cut, auburn hair slid into his recently vacated spot.

  “Hi, Grace. I don’t know if you remember me. Bridget Vincent. Ryan—my brother—is inside guarding Chloe.” Bridget prattled on saying something about getting the call from Evan and rushing to the hospital, but Grace couldn’t comprehend her words.

  She stared at the miniature ball of energy. Bridget had grown into a beautiful woman, but she still talked at warp speed, as if it were some kind of race to see who could get out the most words between breaths.

  “Uh...yeah... I remember you,” Grace managed to say when Bridget paused.

  “We’re praying for Chloe. She’s a fighter. I’m sure she’ll pull through—”

  The passenger door opened. “Thanks, Bridget,” Evan said as his hand cupped Grace’s elbow, helping her out of the SUV. “Don’t forget to lock the doors and bring me the keys.”

  “Sure. No problem. You know I don’t mind at—”

  Evan closed the door, cutting off Bridget’s words, and strode toward the ER entrance, Grace almost sprinting as she struggled to match his pace. “Wasn’t trying to be rude, but man, that woman can talk the ears off a donkey.”

  “That’s not nice.”

  His eyes shone with amusement, and she giggled in spite of herself. Their laughter mingled, echoing off the concrete walls. For a moment, tension lifted from her shoulders and her chest felt less constricted, her breathing lighter. Then guilt assaulted her. How could she laugh with her sister in the hospital fighting for her life?