Rocky Mountain Revenge

by Rhonda Starnes

  “What do you think?” Evan called from the main living area.

  “I think it’s very nice of Ryan’s parents to allow us to use their cabin,” Grace answered, retracing her steps down the hall. She looked at the duffel bag in his hand. “Do you really think it’s necessary for you to stay here with me?”

  Grace wasn’t used to sharing living quarters with anyone. She’d lived alone since her junior year of college.

  “I do.” He tossed the duffel on the floor next to the sofa. “I’ll sleep here, and you can have the bedroom.”

  The set of his jaw told her there would be no persuading him to change his mind. Wandering into the kitchen, Grace idly opened cabinet doors. The small pantry seemed well stocked, cans of homemade soups, vegetables and preserves lining the shelves. Opening the refrigerator, she noticed someone had stocked it with milk, eggs, fruit, cheese and a variety of lunch meat.

  “Here’s a note.” Evan pulled a piece of paper from the thumbtack holding it in place on the corkboard attached to the side of the fridge. “‘I tried to stock up on the necessities. If you can think of something I’ve left off the list or need anything at all, let me know, and I’ll get it for you. We’re praying for your safety and Chloe’s healing. Mrs. V.’”

  “That was thoughtful of her.” Grace wasn’t used to others doing so much for her. Back in Denver, she only knew the name of one of her neighbors.

  “Yes, it was,” Evan agreed, placing the note on the old butcher-block countertop. “It’s getting late. Maybe you should go to bed. You’ve had a long day that started way too early.”

  “Actually, if you don’t mind, I’d rather talk about Avery for a few minutes. I can’t believe I’ve known who Chloe’s attacker was this entire time.”

  “Technically, you didn’t know this entire time. It took a specific event to jar your memory.” He crossed the room and knelt in front of the fireplace. “Could you tell me what was different about today’s attack that helped you remember?” he asked as he pulled kindling out of the metal bucket on the hearth and arranged it under the logs so he could start a fire.

  Grace sat on the sofa and tucked her feet under her. “I think it was the way he looked at me. When I was younger, he’d call me ‘princess,’ but he’d have such a look of disgust on his face I always knew he meant it as an insult. He had that same look today.”

  She shivered, whether from the topic they were discussing or the cool night air, she wasn’t sure, but she would be glad once Evan had a roaring fire warming the place. Pulling a soft, blue throw off the back of the sofa, she tucked it around herself.

  “Why do you think he would do that?” Evan asked.

  “I always thought it was because his family was poor and he thought I was a spoiled kid. We weren’t rich by any means, but we had nice things. The first time it happened, I was in the clinic parking lot, riding the new, lime-green, ten-speed bicycle I had gotten the day before for my birthday.”

  “What was he doing at the clinic?”

  “Dad had given him a part-time job. I believe it was his senior year of high school. One night, I overheard Dad telling Mom that Avery was great with the animals, and if he’d let go of some of his anger at the world, he’d have a bright future.”

  “Wilkes mentioned Avery had a troubled childhood. Do you know what he meant?”

  “Avery had several run-ins with the law. He liked to party, and that included abusing drugs and alcohol. After he went to work for Dad, he seemed to sober up. Then when he graduated high school, Dad helped him find a full-time job at a ranch working with horses. But like Wilkes said earlier, that didn’t last.

  “When Avery got out of jail, he came by the clinic. I was in the kennel playing with the puppies, and I heard him talking to Dad. He wanted his old job back, but Dad told him he wouldn’t hire him unless he agreed to go to an AA meeting. Avery said he didn’t need AA. Dad told him he couldn’t have an alcoholic around his daughters.”

  “And you never saw him again?”

  “Not until the night he pushed Chloe over the balcony and threatened me.”

  “Then seems to me, I need to do some digging to figure out what led him to that place at that moment in time.”

  “You mean besides wanting to murder my sister and me?”

  * * *

  The morning sun illuminated the kitchen enough for Evan to search for coffee and filters.

  He opened a drawer beside the sink, but it held dishcloths and dish towels. When he opened the next drawer, a high-pitched squeak echoed in the quiet house. He carefully closed the drawer, praying the noise hadn’t awakened Grace. It had been nearing midnight before she’d finally gone to bed, and he had no way of knowing if she’d drifted off to sleep as easily as he had, complete exhaustion claiming him once silence descended upon the cabin.

  He located a tablespoon, placed a paper filter in the coffeemaker’s basket and measured four heaping spoons of coffee grounds into it. He filled the reservoir with tap water and hit the power button.

  Crossing over to the sofa, he folded the blanket he’d used the night before, stacking it and the pillow on the side table. Soon, the scent of coffee wafted into the air. The cabin was tiny, not more than five hundred square feet. Would the smell wake Grace? Maybe he should have held off on his morning caffeine fix.

  Lisa used to laugh at him and his need for coffee as soon as his feet touched the floor each morning. They’d received one of those fancy coffeemakers that made one cup of coffee at a time as a wedding gift, but he’d never gotten use to making coffee that way. He preferred to make a pot of strong, black coffee he could pour multiple cups from. No fancy-flavored creamer, either. He liked a little heavy whipping cream in his coffee, nothing else.

  Lisa had eventually sold the fancy coffeemaker at a yard sale and surprised him with one that made twelve cups at a time. It was programmable, so he could prep everything the night before and awaken to the smell of fresh-brewed coffee each morning.

  He smiled at the memory, and his lip quivered. That had been ten months after they married, the same day she’d told him he was going to be a father. She’d laughed and told him he’d need the extra caffeine following the sleepless nights with a newborn.

  The following year was one of the happiest times in his life. Lisa had been radiant, and they had enjoyed all the milestones together—the first ultrasound, the first kick, playfully arguing over names and finally the birth. The delivery had been difficult. After twenty-three hours of labor, Lisa’s blood pressure had spiked and the doctor had to perform an emergency cesarean.

  Camden had been beautiful and perfect, and Lisa had been a doting mother. Only, she had suffered from postpartum depression and had hidden it from everyone. If anyone asked how she felt, she would plaster a smile on her face and say, “Fine.” When she looked tired, and he offered to hire someone to help her with the house and the baby, she’d insisted she could handle it herself. Being tired was normal when you had a newborn, she’d said.

  He blamed himself for not knowing how much she was suffering. His only excuse was that he had been immersed in his job, working to achieve his goal of becoming chief of police when Chief Emerson retired. As a result he’d been unsuccessful at balancing his new family’s responsibilities along with his work responsibilities.

  Evan scrubbed a hand over his face. No point making excuses. He’d been a failure as a husband. He should have been more aware of his wife’s feelings, insisting she seek help and ensuring she had time for herself—regular lunch dates with friends or time at the beauty salon to get her hair or nails done. Anything to give her time away from the stress of being a new mother.

  Barkley whimpered, scratching at the bedroom door. “Shh, boy.” Evan whispered as he hurried across the room and down the short hall to let him out. “Don’t wake Grace.”

  The Great Dane quieted, and Evan slowly opened the door enough for the m
assive animal to squeeze out. A quick glance in the room showed a mound of covers in the center of the bed and a bare foot sticking out, dangling over the side. Grace was still asleep. Evan released a sigh of relief. He closed the door and tiptoed back to the kitchen.

  Opening the cabinet where he’d seen dishes earlier, he found an oversize stoneware mug and poured himself a cup of coffee. Steaming mug in hand, he opened the front door and followed the Great Dane outside. There weren’t any chairs on the small wooden porch, so Evan sat on the top step and watched as Barkley sniffed the perimeter of the cabin.

  He took a sip of his coffee, closed his eyes and savored the moment, until his thoughts started to jumble and bump around in his brain.

  They hadn’t been able to locate Avery. Evan had known it was a long shot. The man wouldn’t have tried to snatch Grace with so many people around if he hadn’t had a planned escape route. Avery’s parents insisted they hadn’t seen him in four days. Evan was sure the man had gone into hiding, but he was also sure Avery wouldn’t miss the unsanctioned match race today.

  The only photo they’d been able to find of Avery had been a dated mug shot, one Grace said no longer provided an accurate representation of the man.

  Agent Ingalls wanted Grace to attend the race to identify Avery, and Henry Green had agreed to let them have his tickets. That only left two problems. One, how could they get into the event without anyone identifying them? And two, how did he protect Grace in a crowded, open area?

  Barkley ambled over to him and lay down at his feet. Evan guzzled the rest of his coffee and placed the mug on the wooden step beside him. He rested his elbows on his knees and propped his chin on his clasped hands, watching the sunrise.

  Ribbons of orange and gold painted the horizon as the morning started to awaken. The sound of the waterfall added background music to the start of the day, acting as a balm for his soul.

  “Lord, I’ve made many mistakes in my life, the greatest of which was turning from You after we lost Lisa. My eyes are fixed on You now, and that’s where they will stay. Please, help me save Grace. I can’t do it without You.”

  TEN

  The cabin was quiet. Too quiet. The only sound was the faint roar of the waterfall that had lulled Grace to sleep last night. She pulled her hair through the elastic tie, securing the ponytail. How had she slept until nine o’clock? She hadn’t slept past six in ten years or longer. Why hadn’t Barkley woken her? His absence from the bedroom when she woke meant only one thing. Evan must have let him out. Heat warmed her cheeks at the thought of him in her bedroom while she slept. Had she been snoring? Or drooling?

  She pulled a tube of sunscreen out of her bag, squirted a small amount into her palm and applied it to her face and neck. Okay, time to find Evan and Barkley. There was no way Evan would have left her there unguarded. He had to be around somewhere. Hopefully, he’d take her back to the clinic before they had to go to the race so she could call the hospital and check on Chloe. She’d tried to call last night but didn’t have cell service at the cabin.

  Walking into the living area, a sleepy Barkley raised his head to look at her before curling back up in front of the fireplace. It was obvious the fire had been out for a while since there were no embers. Of course, the temperatures during the daylight hours were much warmer than the nighttime.

  The smell of coffee lured her into the kitchen area. The coffeemaker was still hot, but there wasn’t much left in the pot. She emptied the contents into a mug and added two spoons of sugar and a dash of cream. Her stomach rumbled, so she snagged an apple out of the basket on the counter.

  The door opened before she reached it, and Bridget entered carrying a pink, hard-sided makeup bag. Evan was close behind, a small suitcase in his hand.

  “Bridget, what are you doing here? Don’t tell me you’re my new guard.” Grace smiled, hoping the other woman would know she was teasing.

  “Nope. I’m here to give you a makeover. Consider me your fairy godmother.” The petite redhead smiled. “Except in this case, you’re not being turned into a princess, so I guess it’s more of a make-under.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yes, seriously.” Evan placed the suitcase on the floor inside the door. “Since you’ve agreed to attend the race—against my wishes—and to ID Avery for Agent Ingalls, we need to change your looks. We don’t want Avery to ID you.”

  “That’s where I come in.” Bridget placed the makeup case on the small kitchen table and opened it. Inside was an array of lipsticks, eye shadows, creams and things. “Did you know I’m a certified makeup artist? I took a six-week course a few years ago.” As she chatted away, Bridget hefted the suitcase onto the table and opened it, revealing a multitude of wigs. “A bodyguard never knows when they may need to go undercover on a job.”

  Evan whistled. “Wow. You really take this stuff seriously, don’t you?”

  “Of course I do. Sometimes it’s a matter of life or death,” she replied.

  Grace picked up a long, straight-haired black wig. She couldn’t imagine wearing such a thing. With her pale complexion and freckles, it would be obvious the hair wasn’t real.

  “Oh, no, that won’t do for you.” Bridget took the wig and laid it on a chair. She dug into the suitcase and then held up a shoulder-length, brown, curly-haired wig. “I think this one will do nicely.”

  She straightened and turned back to Grace. “Now, have a seat so I can get started. Getting both of you in disguises will take a couple of hours. And the match race starts at two.”

  “Did you figure out how you could get into the event with me?” Grace asked Evan as she sat in the hard, straight-back kitchen chair.

  “Actually, I’m going to try to get away with using Henry’s ticket.”

  “What? I thought he said the ticket wasn’t transferable.”

  “Hold still,” Bridget commanded, placing a hand under Grace’s chin and lifting her face. “Close your eyes.”

  Grace did as instructed, acutely aware of Evan watching from across the room, a scowl on his face. “Tell me what you’re thinking, Evan.”

  When they’d been younger, she wouldn’t have had to ask what he was thinking, he would have told her or she would have instinctively known. She knew he was worried about keeping her safe, but she couldn’t imagine how he planned to capture Avery.

  “I don’t want Henry at the race. It’s too dangerous, and he’s not as young as he used to be. I mean, I don’t even want you there.” She heard the frustration in his voice. “But if you insist on going along with Agent Ingalls’s idea, then I’m going to be at your side.”

  “And if the people at the gate refuse to allow you to enter?”

  “Then you don’t enter, either,” he said flatly.

  She opened her eyes, turned and frowned at him. Grace knew he was right. She couldn’t risk being at the race unprotected, but she needed to do what she could to help end the threat against her family.

  Bridget pulled Grace’s head back into position and started applying eyeliner. Having never been one to wear much makeup, Grace was afraid to see the outcome of this makeover. Did she have the right facial wash to remove all this goop at the end of the day?

  “I don’t think they’ll refuse me entry,” Evan said.

  “Why is that?”

  “You’ve heard the old saying ‘money talks’? Well, I plan to throw a little money around to see if they’re listening.”

  “You will pretend to be married high-rollers from Texas,” Bridget chimed in. “Ryan and I used a similar disguise a few months ago, only we played the part of spoiled siblings from a rich New England family.”

  Bridget continued to tell about her and Ryan’s adventure rescuing a woman from her abusive mobster husband, but Grace tuned her out, focusing on the notion she and Evan were going to pretend to be husband and wife. There was no way that would be awkward, right?

  * *
*

  A look of despair washed over Grace’s face. Was the idea of pretending to be Evan’s wife so revolting? If so, could she pull it off? Or would she blow their cover? He wished he’d had time to come up with a better plan, but it was too late to make changes now.

  The air in the room suddenly became unbearably stuffy. He got up and headed to the door. “Come on, Barkley. Let’s get some air.”

  The dog followed him outside, and Evan closed the door behind him, not waiting to see if either woman had anything to say about his sudden departure.

  Why had Grace’s expression made him feel rejected all over again? He wasn’t an eighteen-year-old kid with idyllic dreams anymore. He was a grown man, a father, and he knew better than to allow fanciful ideas to enter his head. He and Grace would never—could never—be anything more than friends. He’d put Avery behind bars, and then, once a new veterinarian had been hired to run the clinic, Grace would return to her life in Denver. And that was fine with him. Life would go back to the way it was meant to be. He’d raise his son to the best of his ability and continue to protect the citizens of Blackberry Falls.

  Well, maybe one thing would change. He thought it might be time to let Camden have the dog he’d always wanted. Seeing his son interact with Barkley had made him realize his child needed a dog that would be his best friend. A pet he could play games with and would fill the void in his heart Evan feared would be there when Grace left.

  He bent, picked up a stick and tossed it. Barkley looked at the stick, but didn’t budge. “Guess you don’t like playing fetch, huh? Wonder if I should consider a different breed for Camden. Maybe a golden retriever or an Australian shepherd.” The dog moaned and covered his face with his paw. “Okay, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. A Great Dane would be a great choice, too.”