Rocky Mountain Revenge

by Rhonda Starnes

  “I’ve got to check on the other vehicle. I’m pretty sure it was Avery driving. But I was so focused on trying to keep us alive that I didn’t see if he got away or if he crashed, too.” He took her hand in his. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Yes. Just a little shaken.”

  He put his hand on the side of her head. Burying his fingers in her hair, he leaned in and claimed her lips. Not a kiss to stop her from talking, like the one earlier that afternoon, but a kiss of need. One to satisfy his mind that she was okay. That he was okay. And they would get through this. His heart soared, a new energy running through his veins. He felt a heightened sense of awareness, like he had been asleep and had just awakened and could accomplish anything. Right now he needed to conquer their attacker.

  Reluctantly pulling back, his eyes connected with hers. “Stay here. If the doors will lock, lock them. Don’t open them until I get back. I’ll be as quick as I can.”

  She nodded, searching his face in silent assessment. He didn’t regret the kiss—he had needed it at that moment, as surely as his body needed oxygen to live, though he knew he’d have to answer for it later.

  Opening the console, he took out his Glock and a flashlight, stepped out of the vehicle and closed the door. Time to make sure Avery wasn’t circling back around to attack again.

  THIRTEEN

  The clouds parted, allowing the full, bright moon to shine through, providing a minimal amount of light. Evan scrambled up the bank. When he reached the pavement, he clicked on the flashlight, sweeping the beam in an arc from one side of the road to the other. Black tire marks on the asphalt showed the location where his vehicle had spun and skidded. Approximately fifty feet away, a series of yellow road signs with black arrows marked the start of the curve. They had barely escaped the Hangman’s Noose.

  The low hum of an idling engine drew his attention. He picked up the pace, running down the incline of the curve, one hand holding the flashlight and the other hovering near his gun.

  The flashlight beam illuminated a man in the ditch, lying stomach-down, his face turned heavenward. Evan squatted beside him. No pulse. Avery Hebert was dead; his neck had been broken.

  The truck had come to rest against a big oak tree roughly ten yards away from the victim, the driver’s door hung open. Evan crossed to it, reached in and turned the engine off. Avery must not have been wearing his seat belt.

  Evan needed to call for the coroner. He reached in his back pocket for his phone. It wasn’t there. Ugh. Frustration soared through him as he started walking back to the spot where his vehicle sat in a ditch, the steep slope of the curve making going up much more difficult than coming down had been.

  Evan had wanted to stop Avery from killing him and Grace, but he hadn’t wanted the man dead. He had needed answers from Avery, namely had he acted alone or had he been working for someone.

  Was Grace safe now that Avery was dead, or was she in greater danger from an unknown threat?

  * * *

  Grace may have been cold earlier, but not anymore. The inside of the SUV was stifling. Her heart raced and sweat beaded on her forehead. She’d love nothing more than to step outside the vehicle and allow the night air to cool her, but she dared not get out until Evan returned.

  Every event of the day had seemed more escalated than the previous one. To top it off, she had no idea how to interpret Evan’s kiss. He’d kissed her at the match race because she’d been about to blow their cover, but why had he kissed her just now like a warrior going off to battle?

  And what a kiss it had been. Grace hadn’t been kissed like that in...well...fifteen years. Evan had always been the only man who could churn up her emotions like that. Lifting her hair off her neck, she fanned herself with her free hand.

  What was taking Evan so long? Had Avery crashed in the curve and been injured? She couldn’t imagine Avery escaping unscathed driving at such a high speed on a wet road. He had to have known he was putting himself at risk, not only her.

  A shudder ran the length of her body. He hadn’t only targeted her, but Avery would have killed Evan, too, leaving Camden an orphan.

  Sirens pierced the silence, pulling Grace from her thoughts. Help had arrived. She craned her neck as red, blue and yellow lights strobed across the front windshield. Car doors slammed, and she heard the pounding of feet headed in her direction. There was a rap on the driver’s-side window.

  “Ma’am. Are you okay?” A man, shrouded in darkness, peered inside.

  She reached forward and then paused, her hand hovering over the handle. Evan had made her promise not to exit the vehicle until he returned. She thought the man on the other side of the door was a police officer, but she couldn’t make out his uniform or his badge.

  A beam of light bounced along the windshield as the man went around the vehicle to her side. He rattled the door handle. “Ma’am. Open the door.”

  She shook her head. He took a step back, his eyes never leaving hers. He must think she’d addled her brain in the accident.

  He touched his shoulder, and she heard the static sound of a radio. “Where’s the ambulance?”

  After a moment of silence, the dispatcher replied, “ETA three minutes. Are you able to assess the injuries?”

  “Negative. There’s a female victim. Age thirty, thirty-five. She doesn’t appear to be injured, but she refuses to exit the vehicle. Do the responding EMTs know sign language?”

  Grace fought to suppress the hysterical giggle tickling the back of her throat. The man was a sheriff’s deputy. She couldn’t have him thinking she was deaf.

  Opening the door, she slid out of the Jeep. Surely, Evan wouldn’t be upset with her for getting out since a police officer was here.

  “I’m sorry, Officer—” she leaned close to read his badge “—Rice.” Seeing his surprised expression, she quickly added, “No, I’m not deaf... I guess I was still stunned from the accident.”

  “Understandable.” The officer grasped her elbow and steadied her. “What’s your name, ma’am?”

  “Grace Porter.”

  “Are you hurt anywhere, Ms. Porter?”

  She shook her head.

  “Was someone else with you? Who was driving?”

  “Police Chief Evan Bradshaw. He went to check on the driver of the other vehicle.”

  “Okay.” Officer Rice nodded as he guided her up the slight incline of the ditch. “My partner went to check out the curve, so they should see each other.”

  They reached the top of the embankment, and Evan raced toward them. He immediately pulled out his wallet and displayed his badge. “Officer Hooper is putting out flares. I don’t expect we’ll see much traffic, but we’ll need another officer to help direct just in case.” He paused and flicked a glance at her before turning back to Officer Rice. “We’ll also need the coroner. There’s one fatality in the curve.”

  She gasped. “Is it Avery?”

  Evan nodded.

  The man who had injured Chloe and tormented Grace was dead? Bile rose in her throat and a wave of dizziness assaulted her.

  Evan put a hand on her lower back and led her to a boulder on the side of the road. “Sit here until the ambulance arrives.” He knelt beside her, holding his flashlight off to the side where it would cast a glow across her face. “Are you okay? Did you hit your head when we wrecked?”

  “No. And I don’t have a concussion.”

  Officer Rice stood a few feet away talking to Dispatch.

  Evan lifted her chin and searched her eyes. She knew he was looking to see if her pupils were dilated.

  “I’m fine,” she whispered. “Is Avery really dead?”

  “Yes.”

  “Does this mean it’s over? My sister and I can live our lives in peace?” She felt like a horrible person because her first thought was of her and her sister’s safety and not of the sadness Avery’s family
would endure at his loss.

  He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  Grace wanted to ask what he knew, but she swallowed the question. Evan had always been honest with her. If he had more information, he’d tell her. Hounding him wouldn’t help.

  An ambulance arrived on the scene, followed close behind by a large, black SUV with tinted windows.

  Randy Ingalls stepped out of the SUV and headed their way. “Are you both okay?”

  “We’re fine.” Evan stood and turned toward the agent. “Avery Hebert is dead. He crashed in the curve.”

  The EMT pushed his way past Evan and Ingalls and came to her side. “Do you hurt anywhere, Dr. Porter?”

  “I’m fine,” she answered, looking at the man’s badge. Patterson. “You’re one of the first responders who helped my sister the other night.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He held up a penlight and checked her pupils. “Can you walk?”

  “Yes.” She sighed. “I really am fine. I was wearing my seat belt. My shoulder will be sore and bruised in the morning. Other than that, I don’t have any injuries.”

  Patterson smiled. “Good. I’m glad you had on your seat belt. Now, let’s walk over to the ambulance. I’ll check your blood pressure and oxygen levels and make sure you really are fine.”

  Standing to the side talking to Randy Ingalls, Evan gave her a stern look and jerked his head toward the ambulance. He then turned his attention back to the agent. If his and the agent’s animated discussion was an indicator, Evan would be tied up awhile.

  She was tired. All she wanted was to go home—or back to the cabin—make sure Barkley was okay, and go to sleep. Reluctantly, she allowed Patterson to help her to her feet and guide her to the ambulance. Maybe, if she permitted the EMTs to check her out, she could convince Evan to have one of the officers drive her to the Vincents’ cabin.

  * * *

  Evan lifted the cup to his mouth and drained it. The coffee was strong and bitter, but he needed the caffeine boost before making the drive from the station to the cabin. He’d never intended to be away from Grace for this long, but it had been a long night. First, he’d had to complete the paperwork. Then, he’d had to go out to Ralph and Lydia Hebert’s home to tell them their son was dead. As a parent himself, that was always one of the hardest parts of his job; no parent should ever have to bury their child. No matter what evil things Avery had done, his parents loved him.

  He placed the mug on his desk and stood. Time to go to the cabin and see Grace. He needed to let her know they hadn’t been able to confirm whether Avery was working with someone or alone. Valerie had been brought in for questioning, but she had seemed genuinely shocked that Avery had been the man who’d attacked Chloe and tried to kill Grace. She insisted she and Avery hadn’t been dating long. As a matter of fact, the match race had only been their second date. Evan had no evidence to tie her to the attacks, and in his gut, he believed she was innocent.

  Lifting a hand in farewell to Lieutenant Johnson, Evan stepped out of the station. The sun had begun to rise, casting the morning in a beautiful golden light. The beauty of the day brought joy to his heart, and he was suddenly in a great hurry to get to Grace.

  A woman of medium height with shoulder-length black hair and unnaturally violet eyes blocked his path. Marcia O’Neal. What could have brought her to the station so early in the morning?

  All of his senses instantly went on high alert. “Can I help you?”

  “Chief Bradshaw, I...” She swallowed and then blurted, “James Osborne is behind the attack on Chloe.”

  Evan’s pulse quickened. Did James’s mistress hold the evidence they had been searching for?

  “Let’s step inside and talk.” He retraced his steps, holding the door open for her to precede him inside. Upon entering the building, he motioned to Johnson to follow them into his office.

  Once the door was closed and Evan was seated at his desk with Marcia in the faux-leather guest chair facing him and Johnson standing to the side, Evan turned to Marcia. “Ms. O’Neal, would you mind repeating what you said outside?”

  She looked at Johnson and said, “I have reason to believe James Osborne is behind the attack on Chloe.”

  Lieutenant Johnson leaned on the corner of the desk. “What led you to that conclusion?”

  Marcia pulled a tissue out of the box on the desk. “I’m sure you’ve heard James and I, um, that we...”

  “Have been dating?” Evan asked softly.

  She nodded, absently shredding the tissue in her hands. “I’m not a home-wrecker you know. James told me the marriage was over. He moved out and was working toward getting his divorce.”

  “Marcia, what evidence do you have James is behind the attacks?” Evan was tired and didn’t have the patience needed to sit and listen to her rationale for taking up with a married man.

  “I overheard a phone conversation last night.” She took a deep breath, her eyes focused on destroying the tissue.

  “I’m curious.” He leaned forward, his elbows on his desk. “Why would James have such a conversation in your presence?”

  Marcia met his gaze, unwavering. “He didn’t know I was there. I thought I’d surprise him with a home-cooked meal. I made a lasagna.” She looked back down at her hands, the tissue nothing more than confetti now. “When I went up the steps to the porch, I heard him on the phone. The windows were open. I peeked in the window to his office, thinking I’d get his attention so he could let me in, then I could go into the kitchen and set the meal up.”

  “But?” Johnson prompted. His focus zeroed in on the young woman, and Evan knew his lieutenant was reading her body language.

  “James sounded furious. I heard him tell the person on the other end of the line they better not mess up the job like they bungled the last one.” Marcia looked from Evan to Johnson and back again. “I don’t know what job he was talking about.”

  “It’s okay. I do.” Evan’s gut tightened. Instinct told him James had been talking to Avery, and the job had been to kill him and Grace. “Did you hear anything else?”

  “He told the person if they had...” Marcia shuddered and tears started streaming down her face. “Had...killed Chloe like they were paid to do, there wouldn’t be a mess to clean up now.”

  Evan met Johnson’s eyes. His lieutenant inclined his head in a subtle nod. He believed Marcia was telling the truth. So did Evan.

  Reaching for his desk phone, Evan buzzed Reba Franklin and ordered the dispatcher to send an officer to pick up Dr. James Osborne and bring him in for questioning.

  Johnson put a hand on Marcia’s shoulder. “Is there any way James could know you overheard his conversation?”

  She shook her head. “I left without him seeing me.”

  There was one more detail Evan had to know. “You said this was last night?”

  “Yes. Around six o’clock.”

  Over five hours before he and Grace had landed in the ditch and Avery had been killed. He bit back an exclamation and took a deep breath, releasing it slowly. “May I ask why it took you twelve hours to report this?”

  “I was in shock. I thought maybe I’d misheard the conversation.” Her eyes pleaded with him to understand. “I couldn’t reconcile that the man I knew would be capable of something like this.”

  “What changed your mind?”

  “I heard about what happened last night. You and Dr. Porter. And Avery.” Her voice cracked. “I got to thinking about how Dr. Porter was the one who saved her sister from the intruder, and it made me wonder if she was the mess James wanted cleaned up.”

  Marcia wailed, “It’s my fault. A man’s dead. And you and Dr. Porter could have been hurt.” She jumped out of her seat, the shredded tissue tumbling off her lap and onto the floor like snow. “I’m sorry I didn’t come in last night. I wasn’t trying to obstruct justice.”

  “It’s okay. You
came in. That’s the important thing,” Lieutenant Johnson said, pulling additional tissues from the box and pressing them into her hand.

  Marcia settled back onto the chair, wiping her face and sniffling.

  The phone on Evan’s desk buzzed, and he picked up the receiver. “Yes?”

  “Sir, we haven’t been able to locate Dr. Osborne. He isn’t at his house or the clinic.”

  “Okay, put an APB out on his vehicle. A black Por—”

  “Excuse me, Chief Bradshaw,” Marcia interrupted. “James told me he had to take his vehicle in for service Saturday afternoon and it would be in the shop for a few days.”

  “Do you know what he’s driving in the meantime?”

  “I know he got a rental. Last night, I noticed there was a white sedan in the drive. But I don’t know the make or model. I’m sorry.” She appeared deeply concerned she couldn’t provide additional information.

  “It’s okay. You’ve given us a lot of important information.” He reached out his hand. “Thank you for coming in.”

  Turning to his lieutenant, he added, “Take Ms. O’Neal to your office and write up her statement, then see she gets home safely.”

  Speaking into the phone, he relayed the new information and instructed Reba to have an officer check out the rental car places and dealerships within a thirty mile radius.

  Time to get to the cabin and ensure Grace stayed safe. He exited the building at an almost full-on sprint, thankful he’d had enough sense to have an officer pick up his police SUV from his home and deliver it to the station after the accident last night.

  Lord, please don’t let James get to her. I just got her back in my life, and I’d really like to keep her there.

  As friends. Or more, if she were willing.

  FOURTEEN

  A loud pounding rattled the cabin, and Grace bolted upright in bed. Barkley plodded to the bedroom door, barking. She picked her phone up off the bedside table and checked the time—6:23 a.m. She had only slept about four hours. When Deputy Rice escorted her to the cabin a little before two, she’d found a note from Bridget’s father, George Vincent, saying he’d stopped by and walked Barkley earlier, so she’d gone straight to bed.