Grace’s breath caught, and the girl looked at her quizzically.
“Sorry. Your, um, wolf tattoo reminded me of someone.”
After the girl walked away, Grace emptied the contents of two tubs of creamer into her cup and stirred. Lifting the mug with shaking hands, she took a sip, willing the coffee’s warmth to chase away the sudden chill in the air and, hopefully, to evaporate the stress of this very trying day.
Her gaze drifted to the parking lot. The rain had slowed to a drizzle. With any luck, it would stop before they left the diner.
A vehicle pulled into the lot, and she watched as Mr. Torres and Greg the guard got out. What were they doing here?
Grace’s heart slammed against her chest. With a trembling hand, she placed the mug on the table, creamy, brown liquid sloshing out. Pulling three or four napkins from the silver dispenser on the table, she mopped up the spill.
What should she do? Would they recognize her? The only thing to give her away was her clothes. Think fast. Opening her messenger bag, she pulled out a lightweight beige sweater she’d stuffed inside on a whim when leaving the cabin earlier. She quickly pushed her arms though the sweater’s sleeves and buttoned it all the way to the top. She then tucked the collar of her pink-floral blouse inside so the fabric wouldn’t show.
Slipping her phone out of her purse, she started to call Evan, but hesitated for fear of being overheard. She quickly sent him a text instead. Torres and Greg are here.
The bell over the door sounded as the men entered the diner. They looked around and then headed in her direction. Glancing down, she closed the text screen, pulled up a word game and pretended to be absorbed in her phone.
“Well, well, well, if it ain’t Dr. Porter. What are you doing so far from Blackberry Falls?” The two men slipped into the booth, uninvited, and sat across from her.
Torres snapped his fingers. “Oh, right. I heard about the attack on your sister. I guess you’ve been to visit her. How’s she doing?”
Do not register a reaction. Remember, you’ve never met them before. Don’t act like you know them.
Grace looked at the man and tilted her head. “I’m sorry? Have we met?”
“I guess not. Let me introduce myself.” He smiled and held out his hand “My name is Antonio Torres.”
She ignored his offer of a handshake, and Greg snickered. Torres shot his goon a look, and the man choked down the laugh.
Dropping his elbows on the table, Torres clasped his hands together and rested his chin on top of them. “I truly was sorry to hear about Dr. Osborne’s wife. Do they know who attacked her? Is she going to be okay?”
Where was Evan?
She glanced toward the back of the diner. The men’s room door opened, and he stepped out, looking like his old self. He still sported the white dress shirt and the suit pants he’d worn to the race, but without the bolo and the jacket, he didn’t resemble his alter ego Trey. Evan met her gaze and winked. Relief surged through her.
Turning back to Torres she replied, “Thank you for your concern, but I’d rather not discuss my personal business.”
Torres leaned back, a look of shock on his face. “No need to get defensive. I was only being neighborly.”
“Excuse me, but you’re in my seat,” Evan said, stopping to stand beside her.
“Chief Bradshaw. I didn’t know you were here, too,” Torres said, not moving.
“Now you do. Like I said, you’re in my seat, Mr. Torres.”
The man raised an eyebrow, shock evident on his face.
“Don’t look so surprised. I always make it a habit to know newcomers to the area.”
Torres jerked his head for Greg to get up and then slid out of the booth behind him. Evan slid into the vacated spot, reached across the table and took her hand.
At his touch, a jolt of awareness shook her. Had Evan felt it, too? His thumb massaged the back of her hand, and the anxiety she’d felt when Torres and Greg entered the diner evaporated.
Grace plastered on a smile and looked up at Antonio Torres, who stood, seemingly rooted to the spot, staring at them. “If you’ll excuse us, it looks like our waitress is headed this way with our food.”
“Sure,” he said, looking from her to Evan. “Enjoy your meal.”
After he’d walked away, Evan gave her hand a gentle squeeze, his smile warming her in a way coffee never could.
The waitress delivered their meal. Suddenly the thought of eating the greasy food she had craved made Grace feel nauseous. She wondered if she’d be able to swallow even one bite with the two men sitting a few booths away.
* * *
Torres and Greg sat in the corner booth two tables away. Far enough away to look like they were leaving Evan and Grace alone, but close enough to overhear each other’s conversation. At least they had sat where Evan had a clear view of them and Grace didn’t, though he doubted she’d forget the men were near.
“Let’s give thanks.” Evan leaned in close, still holding Grace’s hand tightly in his, and prayed.
“Amen,” she echoed as he finished, offering him a lopsided smile.
Suddenly he wanted nothing more than to load her, Camden and Barkley into his vehicle and get far away from the danger lurking around her.
“Thank you,” she said as she pulled her hand free. “Living alone, it’s been a while since I’ve had someone else to pray over a meal for me.”
“My pleasure,” he replied, swallowing the sorrow rising within him at the thought of all the meals they could have shared if things had been different. Only, if things had been different, he wouldn’t have Camden, and he could never imagine his life without his son. Though he’d forever regret failing her when she’d needed him most, he’d never regret loving Lisa.
Shaking the cobwebs of memory from his mind, he poured a blob of ketchup onto his plate and dipped an onion ring into the condiment before taking a bite and forcing the food past the lump in his throat. “Yu-um You were right. These are delicious.”
Grace looked as if she needed to tell him something, but he sensed this wasn’t the time or place. “Later,” he whispered and nodded to her plate. “Eat.”
She picked up her burger, took a bite, chewed and swallowed. Then she smiled and took a bigger bite. Good. He’d been afraid Grace’s rattled nerves wouldn’t allow her to eat, and she hadn’t eaten much the past few days, her already slim frame starting to look gaunt.
When both of their plates were empty, Evan motioned to the waitress to bring their check. Food had just been delivered to Torres’s table, and though Evan had no way of knowing if the man was a threat to Grace, he’d feel better getting out of the area ahead of him and his goon.
Kenzie brought their bill, and he handed her more than enough cash to cover the total plus leave her with a generous tip.
In the meantime, Grace rolled his jacket into a tight ball and stuffed it into her purse. He’d wondered why she’d carried such a large bag, now he knew. It was so she could hide things in it.
They stepped out into the cool night air. The rain had stopped, leaving a sweet, fresh scent in its wake.
Evan guided Grace to his Jeep, opening the passenger-side door for her. “I couldn’t say it earlier—too many listening ears—but you did great in there. Actually, you’ve been great all day, the way you slipped into character as Shelby and all.”
She laughed. “I guess watching those whodunit movies paid off.”
“I guess so,” he smiled and closed the door.
Rounding the vehicle, he quickly slid behind the wheel and started the engine. Evan cast one last glance at the diner and his smile evaporated, the hairs on the nape of his neck tingling. Torres was staring in his direction, a cell phone to his ear.
Putting the vehicle in Reverse, he exited the parking lot. Time to get Grace back to the safety of the cabin.
“You miss
ed the on-ramp,” Grace noted as he sped past the interstate and turned right onto 2nd Street.
“I know. I think we’ll stick to back roads tonight.”
“You think they’ll follow us, don’t you?”
“I’m not sure. But they’ll expect us to take the interstate, so the back roads should be safer.”
“When you say ‘back roads,’ you don’t mean an off-road trail as in the dirt-and-gravel road that goes over the mountain, do you?”
Was Evan imagining the sound of fear in her voice? Had his honesty about how he’d failed Lisa caused Grace to doubt his ability to protect her?
“Yes. But I’ll also call Agent Ingalls and make him aware of the situation.” He gave her a reassuring smile. “It’s going to be okay. I promise.”
“Do you realize how many times you’ve said ‘I promise’ to me in the past three days?”
Had he said it a lot? He had no idea. “I take it I’ve said it several times. Doesn’t mean I’m any less sincere.”
“I know. You wouldn’t make a promise unless you meant to keep it, but don’t make promises that are out of your control. Whether or not everything is okay isn’t up to you.” Her voice softened. “All you can do is try to make the best choices in any given situation and know the rest is in God’s hands.”
Evan processed her words as he turned onto Mt. Herman Road—as Grace had said, a dirt-and-gravel road. A trail favorite of mountain bikers, it wasn’t ideal for automobile travel, especially on a dark and stormy night. Nonetheless, it would help carry them across the mountain where, after several turns, they’d follow County Road 11 south to Blackberry Falls, adding an extra hour of travel.
Grace shifted in her seat and stared at him, waiting for a reply. She was right. No matter the outcome, God was in control.
“Pray more, worry less. That’s what my mom always said to me when I was growing up. Okay, I won’t make promises of things I have no power over.” He swallowed. Why had it taken him so long to learn that lesson? He’d made promises to Lisa the last night of her life, but he hadn’t been able to fulfill them.
“I’m not worried. I trust you,” she replied.
He pressed the voice command on the steering wheel to put a call into Agent Ingalls, but the call wouldn’t go through. No cell signal. Why hadn’t he tried before turning onto the rutted-out old dirt road?
Dear Lord, it’s too late to change the route now. I pray I made the right choice. Please, keep us safe.
The road was narrow, and on a good day, when the sun was shining, it took about an hour to drive across. Unfortunately, today wasn’t a good day. It was a dark, moonless night, and the road was muddy.
“It seemed like there was something you wanted to tell me back at the diner. What was it?” he asked Grace.
“Oh, yeah.” She turned in her seat to look at him as she often did when talking. “Kenzie, our waitress, had a wolf tattoo. When I saw it, I remembered the guy who attacked me at the clinic had one.”
“Identical to hers?”
“No. His was a wolf’s head inside a triangle, on the inside of his forearm. I’m sorry I didn’t remember it sooner.”
“No need to be sorry. Memories can’t be forced, sometimes they have to happen organically.”
“I guess. Do you think it will help us catch the guy?”
“Possibly. When we get back to the cabin, I’ll have you draw a rough sketch of what you saw. Then I can send it out to the tattoo parlors in the area to see if anyone remembers doing the work.”
Evan rounded a bend a little too fast and the Jeep fishtailed, the nose coming to a stop too close to the edge of the road and a steep drop.
“Well, that was like a ride at a theme park, only not as much fun.” Grace laughed nervously.
“I underestimated how slick this road would be after the heavy rainfall. Sorry,” he replied as he shifted the vehicle into four-wheel drive. He needed to put as many miles between them and Torres as possible, but he couldn’t be careless in the process.
They continued the ride in silence. Evan drove slow and steady, his nerves tautening with each passing mile. If Grace was nervous, she didn’t say anything. Maybe she was afraid of distracting him while they were on this road.
They finally reached the other side of the mountain, and it had only taken them twenty minutes longer than normal.
Being back in cell service range, Evan tried to reach Randy Ingalls again, but the call went to voice mail. He left a message, asking the agent to call, and then he turned onto County Road 11, headed south toward Blackberry Falls. They would arrive at the cabin in forty-five minutes, a little before midnight.
“Do you think Torres being at the diner was a coincidence?” Grace asked the question he’d been pondering ever since he’d received her text while removing Trey Green’s persona in the men’s room.
Touching the tips of his fingers to his brow line, Evan was reassured to know he did, indeed, still have eyebrows. The beard and mustache had been removed using the nail polish remover, but when Grace’s text arrived, he’d been struggling to get the fake eyebrows off. In the end, he’d pulled them off in one quick, painful tug.
“I’ve been thinking about that.” He sighed. “Unless they followed us from the hospital, I can’t imagine them knowing we were at the diner. I took every precaution and didn’t see anyone tailing us. And I don’t believe Torres would have left the match race until all the races were over and all the money counted, which would have given us at least a two-hour head start.”
“So, you’re saying it was a coincidence?”
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean Torres isn’t a threat. The fact he made a point of talking to you concerns me.”
“Yeah, it concerned me, too.” Grace pulled her sweater tighter.
Evan didn’t know if she was chilled from the cool night or if it was nerves. He reached over and turned up the heat, adjusting the vents so the air would warm her.
A truck came speeding up behind them. He couldn’t be sure because they were out in the country and there weren’t any streetlights, but it looked a lot like the truck that had tried to push them into the oncoming train the night Chloe had been attacked. Evan sped up. He had to lose them before they reached the turnoff to the cabin.
Grace twisted in her seat to look out the rear window, but didn’t say a word.
Evan’s phone rang. He hit the answer button on the steering wheel. “Chief Bradshaw here.”
“We lost Avery Hebert.” Agent Ingalls’s voice sounded over the speaker.
Evan glanced at Grace, her eyes still focused on the vehicle tailing them. “I think we found him.”
“Where are you?” Ingalls asked.
“County Road 11. About fifteen miles north of the Flying V Ranch.”
Grace screamed, “He’s going to hit us!” She twisted around in her seat, facing the front as the truck rammed into the back of Evan’s vehicle. Metal crunched against metal, and his tires skidded on the wet pavement.
“Bradshaw, what’s happening?” Ingalls asked urgently.
“He’s trying to make us crash.” Tightening his grip on the steering wheel, Evan spared a brief glance at Grace. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. But how are we going to stop him?” She looked over her shoulder and then back to him again. “Can I hold the steering wheel, and you shoot his tires or something?”
“Don’t do anything reckless,” Ingalls yelled across the speakers. “We’ve notified the sheriff’s office, and I’m on my way.” The call went silent.
Evan sped up, putting a little distance between him and the truck, but the other driver soon closed the gap, ramming into them again. This time the impact shattered the back window, but Evan had been able to hold the Jeep steady without skidding.
Evan raced away again, driving dangerously fast on the wet road. His headlights flashed
on a bright yellow diamond-shaped road sign, and an eerie, sinking feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. A quick glance in the rearview mirror showed the truck was still barreling down on them—and they were fast approaching the Hangman’s Noose curve.
His analytical brain immediately pulled up the stats. No less than ten accidents occurred on that curve per year and, on average, two fatalities annually. It was little surprise they hadn’t passed one vehicle since ending up on this stretch of road, most of the locals knew to avoid this area at night, especially following a thunderstorm when the road would be slick.
Evan could only see one option if he hoped to avoid crashing in the curve. Thankfully, there wasn’t any oncoming traffic. “Looks like we will have to try a stuntman maneuver from one of your whodunit shows. Hold on tight.”
Grace gripped the armrest and prayed in a muffled whisper.
Evan inhaled. Took his foot off the gas and allowed the other vehicle to almost kiss his bumper. Tightening his grip on the steering wheel, he darted into the other lane. And slammed on his brakes. The truck came alongside him. The other driver swerved into them, clipping the front of the Jeep. Metal clashing with metal, sparks flying like fireflies. Evan struggled to control the spin. His vehicle did doughnuts on the pavement then slid off the road, sideswiping a tree before landing with the rear wheels wedged in the ditch. Thankfully, the impact wasn’t hard enough for the airbags to deploy.
“Are you hurt?” he asked Grace.
“I don’t think so,” she replied.
Evan tried to push open his door. Stuck. He twisted enough to get a booted foot against the door and kicked, hard. After the third try, the door popped open. “Call nine-one-one. Tell them there’s been an accident.”
“Where are you going?” she asked, fear evident in her voice.
Rocky Mountain Revenge Page 14