by Laura Scott
“I can grab them for you,” he offered. “That way if things change down the road you’ll know that you’ll be able to have them back some day.”
“Really?” The offer caused her face to light up. “I’d love that, thanks.”
“No problem.” He hesitated, thinking back once again to his family back in Milwaukee. His dad, who might be marrying Maggie Callahan; his sister, Shayla, and her two kids. “I’ll go with you, Chelsey.”
“What?” She looked confused. “You mean to get me settled? That won’t work, the location has to be secret to the point where Slade is the only one who will know where I am.”
“No, I mean, we can go into WITSEC together. I care about you, Chelsey. You need a friend, and I don’t want to lose you.”
Her mouth dropped open, and hope flashed briefly in her eyes, before she shook her head. “No, Duncan, I can’t ask that of you.”
“You never asked, Chels. I’m offering.” He knew doing this would bring his family pain, but his dad had Maggie, and Shayla had Mike and their kids. They would all go on with their lives.
“Oh, Duncan.” Her eyes filled with tears. “That’s the sweetest offer in the entire world, but I can’t let you do this. I can’t let you give up your family. Mine is gone, so the sacrifice isn’t nearly as great. But your dad and your sister both need you.”
“They’ll be okay without me,” he began, but she abruptly cut him off.
“No, Duncan. I’m not going to let you do this.” She jumped up from her perch on the bed and moved away. “I need to get cleaned up. I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”
He stared at her for a long moment, trying to read between the lines. Was she refusing because she didn’t care for him? Or because she didn’t want him in her life?
Before he could try to clarify, she went into the tiny bathroom and closed the door behind her.
Leaving him little choice but to return to the room he was sharing with the guys, his gut filled with dread, his heart heavy.
All too soon, Chelsey would be leaving him forever. The same way Amanda had. Only Amanda had died, while Chelsey was making a conscious decision to go.
And there wasn’t anything he could do to change that.
* * *
Chelsey collapsed on the edge of the closed lid of the toilet, her hands shaking as she hung her head.
That Duncan would make such a selfless offer was mind-boggling. And worse? She’d wanted nothing more than to throw herself into his arms and accept his sacrifice.
Refusing him had been one of the most difficult things she’d ever done. But she also knew it was the right thing to do.
Her feelings for Duncan were difficult to decipher. She might be falling in love with him but didn’t trust her feelings. She’d made a hasty decision with Brett and look where that had landed her.
Right in the middle of this mess.
Yet spending time with Duncan prior to the wedding had shown her the truth about her feelings toward Brett. She’d been very attracted to Duncan. So much so, she’d realized how much she cared about Brett as a friend, not as a husband.
But Duncan had served in the army, and it was his nature to be a protector. And he’d done an admirable job guarding her.
She wouldn’t be here if not for his expertise.
There was also the fact that if she hadn’t agreed to marry Brett, she wouldn’t have met Duncan again. He’d come to stand up as Brett’s best man. Duncan hadn’t come to Wyoming specifically to see her.
Foolish to think Duncan had fallen in love with his best man’s bride. Duncan was too honorable for that.
No, the best thing she could do for Duncan was to let him go. Allow him to return home to his family, friends and career.
She loved him enough to give him the life he deserved.
What was left of the night dragged on forever. Chelsey woke up almost every hour and finally gave up trying to sleep at about six in the morning. The sky was beginning to lighten, several puffy white clouds floating across the sky, although a darker rain cloud hovered over the Grand Tetons.
She’d taken the bullet-resistant vest off last night and was doing her best to replace it over her dark blue cotton shirt when she heard a light rap on the connecting door.
“Come in.” She turned in time to see Duncan step over the threshold. “Hey. I could use some help here.”
He set a bag of food on the table, then came over to adjust the vest. “I brought breakfast from the fast food place across the street.”
“How did you know I was awake?”
He shrugged, avoiding her gaze. “Heard you moving around, the walls are pretty thin.”
She nodded and tugged on the edge of the vest to shift it into a more comfortable position. “What’s the plan? What time are we heading to the airport?”
“Slade wants you to get there early, but it won’t take long. They’re hoping to leave here about seven thirty.” Duncan finished securing the vest and stepped back, tucking his hands into his front pockets. “They want me to take the first flight back to Milwaukee.”
“You should,” she agreed. “Nothing more you can do here.”
He scowled. “Other than help bring Anthony Nettles to justice for murdering an undercover cop and figure out what role Wesley Strand and Travis Wolfe play in all of this, if any.”
“Surprised you haven’t become a detective for the MPD,” she said keeping her tone light and teasing.
“I’m scheduled to take the detective exam next month,” he admitted. “But I’d give that up if it meant I could stay here to bring these guys to justice.”
She wondered if he really understood how he’d be forced into giving up his career if she’d accepted his offer to come with her. Another reason for her to remain strong. “Well, you’ll bring other bad guys to justice in Milwaukee, which will be good, too.”
He glanced away. “Please come eat your breakfast before it gets cold.”
“Is there coffee?” She moved past him to pick up the bag of food.
“I’ll make some.” Duncan busied himself with the small coffee maker available in their rooms.
She sensed he was upset with her but didn’t want to rehash the subject of his coming with her all over again. They had just over an hour together, and for the first time, she wasn’t sure what to say.
Some things were better left unsaid.
“Were you serious about getting some of my personal items at the hotel?” she asked.
He brought over a cup of coffee, doctored with cream and sugar the way she liked it. “Yes. Tell me what you’d like me to have and I’ll find a way.”
“Not now, though, right? I mean, it’s not safe to go back there yet.”
He shrugged. “You’re the one in danger, Chelsey, not me.”
She took a bite of her breakfast sandwich, thinking back to the wedding. “Are you sure? I mean, it wouldn’t be difficult for anyone to figure out you were the one helping me.”
“So far the attempts have been specifically targeted at you,” he pointed out. “And they can’t kill all of us.”
“Why not? From what I can tell, they haven’t balked at killing anyone, not even an undercover cop.”
He seemed to consider her point. “You may be right, and if that is the case, maybe I should be relocated with you.”
She wanted very badly to agree, but forced herself to look him directly in the eye. “Is that what Slade and Colt say?”
“Not yet, but it may be the right thing to do, regardless.”
There was no good response to that, so she remained silent. Slade poked his head into the room. “Chelsey? We’d like to be ready to go by seven thirty.”
“I know. I’ll be ready.” She finished her breakfast and coffee, then stood. “Give me a few minutes and I’ll be set.”
Duncan nodded. She to
ok her time washing her face and brushing her teeth. She tucked two bobby pins in place to keep her hair out of her eyes. Looking at her reflection in the mirror, she found herself wondering what name she’d be given. Did she have a choice about that or had Slade already created new identification documents for her?
Did it really matter? Chelsey Robards would cease to exist and some new woman would be born in her place.
When she emerged from the bathroom, she heard voices from next door. Crossing over to the adjoining room, she could tell Duncan was pressing his case to be relocated with her.
They stopped arguing when she came in. “Ready to go?” Slade asked.
“Yes.” She glanced around. “Where’s Colt?”
“He left a while ago to retrieve the SUV.” Slade pulled out his phone. “He’ll text when he’s here.”
As if on cue the phone in Slade’s hand chirped.
“Sounds like our ride is here,” Duncan said. “Let’s go.”
They left the motel room, once again Duncan leading the way, Slade walking behind her. The SUV was parked a couple of spots down from where their rooms were located. As they approached the vehicle, they heard a high-pitched scream.
“What in the world?” Duncan spun toward the sound. Chelsey stopped in her tracks, trying to understand what was happening.
Then something hit her square in the chest, with enough force to send her reeling backward. She hit the ground, pain reverberating across her chest and along the back of her head.
She didn’t move, couldn’t breathe. For an instant she wondered if she was dead, but the overwhelming pain seemed to indicate she was alive.
“She’s hit! She’s hit!” The panic in Duncan’s voice was the last thing she remembered before darkness claimed her.
FIFTEEN
Duncan fell to his knees, throwing himself over Chelsey to protect her from the shooter even though he wasn’t sure where the guy was hiding. He tensed, bracing for a second shot, even as he called, “Help me, she’s been hit!”
Colt ran over from the SUV. “Check her pulse. Is she still with us?”
Duncan felt for a pulse, but his own heart was hammering so hard he couldn’t be sure. “I don’t know,” he whispered hoarsely. “She’s not moving.”
“We need to get her back inside,” Slade said in a low, urgent tone. “Colt, call an ambulance and then see if you can find the shooter.”
Duncan barely heard what they were saying, his gaze focused on Chelsey. He was afraid to move her, but more terrified not to. He gathered her limp body into his arms, and rose to his feet, mentally kicking himself for falling for the oldest trick in the book.
The scream had been a diversion intended to separate him from Chelsey. And it had worked.
He set her down on the bed, gently placing a pillow beneath her head. The back of her hair was damp with blood and the room spun crazily for a moment before righting itself.
Please, God, don’t let Chelsey die!
The wail of sirens could be heard in the distance, but he kept his gaze on Chelsey’s still form. He felt again for a pulse, and this time was reassured when he identified the faint beat of her heart.
He bowed his head and silently thanked God for sparing her.
“Check her vest—see if the bullet is still imbedded there, or if it went through,” Slade said.
He fingered the vest, easily finding the spot in the center of her chest where the bullet had penetrated the vest. Quickly removing the vest, he was doubly thankful to realize the bullet hadn’t gone into her skin.
Although he knew the impact would leave a massive bruise, regardless. That she wasn’t moving concerned him. “Chelsey? Can you hear me?”
Her eyelids fluttered open and she looked confused for a moment before her expression cleared. “Duncan? Wh-what happened?”
“You were shot.” He held up the vest. “I’m sure your chest hurts, you may even have a few cracked ribs, but the vest saved your life.”
“Yeah, hurts.” Her eyelids drooped. “Head and chest...”
He glanced at Slade. “We’ll need to get her to the local hospital.”
“There’s one not too far, but we might not want to go there,” Slade said.
“Why? Just because you think the shooter will try to find her at the only hospital in this town?” Duncan felt his anger simmering to a boil. “I don’t care. It’s your job to get her the medical treatment she needs.”
“Hear me out, Duncan,” Slade said, holding up a hand. “What if we pretend she’s dead?”
His anger quickly faded as he recognized the wisdom of that plan. “You mean, treat her as if she’s dead, so that the shooter thinks he’s finished the job?”
“Why not?” Slade shrugged. “Seems to me he must not have noticed the vest. Maybe because you were standing in front of her until the scream drew you out of the way. He only had a second to take the shot and she went down like a rock. He has no reason to believe he missed.”
The reminder of how badly he’d failed to keep Chelsey safe burned, but he couldn’t deny Slade’s plan had merit. “I like it. But she still needs care.”
“I’m okay.” Chelsey’s whisper had him turning toward her. “I’m okay with pretending to be dead if it helps keep the rest of you safe.”
“Yeah, she has a point about that. The situation in general has been bothering me,” Slade said. “I’m not sure why they haven’t taken a shot at you, Colt and me. The shooter had plenty of time. He could have picked us off one by one without much effort.”
“I had the same thought last night,” Duncan admitted. “It didn’t make sense that they kept going after Chelsey. If they thought Brett told her something in confidence, then they should assume she’d have shared that same information with the rest of us, right? So why keep going after her?”
Slade shook his head. “I’m not sure. But faking her death may help solve that problem.” Slade turned toward Chelsey. “Who gets the Teton Valley Hotel after you’re gone?”
Her brow furrowed. “It’s a good question. The hotel has been in our family for generations, but I don’t have any heirs or family left. If Brett was alive and we actually got married, there may have been a way for him to pass it along to his family, but I’m sure now it will simply go up for auction to the highest bidder.”
“Travis Wolfe is a millionaire who has already bought up the adjoining ranch,” Duncan said as the last piece of the puzzle fell into place. “The assailant at the cabin said that he was sent by Wesley Strand. Could it be because Wolfe wants the hotel, too?”
Slade nodded slowly. “Seems drastic, but maybe killing Brett first, followed by Chelsey, was a way for them to get rid of two problems at one time. Get rid of the witness and the hotel owner.”
Duncan felt certain they were onto something. The photograph of Nettles killing the undercover cop was enough to open an investigation but having Brett’s eyewitness testimony would have been necessary to prove Nettles took the shot. That only took care of Anthony Nettles, owner of Coyote Creek Construction. Yet there was nothing more than a business relationship between Nettles and Wolfe. There was no way to implicate the millionaire in the crime.
Was that how Wolfe had planned it all along? Was it possible Wolfe had paid someone off in the local police department and had learned about Brett’s report of what he’d witnessed?
It was all starting to make sense, at least in theory. Proving any of it was another story.
The sirens were louder now, red lights flashing outside the hotel window. They were running out of time if they were going to pull off faking Chelsey’s death.
He grabbed the blanket and pulled it up over Chelsey’s head. Slade nodded and went to the door. He held up his credentials for the two EMTs.
“I’m sorry, but she’s gone. We won’t need your services,” Slade told them.
The two
EMTs glanced at each other and frowned. “We still gotta take her in for the doctors to pronounce her,” the taller of the two said.
“I’m US Marshal Slade Brooks, and I’m not releasing her body into your custody. I’ll notify the Jackson PD and take it from here.”
It wasn’t standard procedure, but Duncan could tell the EMTs were buying Slade’s story. Federal agents often pulled rank over local law enforcement officials. They shrugged, turned away and headed back to their ambulance.
“The police will be here any minute,” Duncan said in a low voice.
It wasn’t even a minute before a squad car pulled in. Slade walked outside to chat with the female officer, leaving Duncan to sit beside Chelsey.
He pulled the chair close to the bed. “Stay as still as possible,” he whispered.
She didn’t answer, and he hoped that she hadn’t lost consciousness again. Were they doing the right thing here? Faking her death to help save her life seemed reasonable, but lying didn’t come naturally to him and he felt certain the same was true of Chelsey.
The minutes dragged by slowly, but Slade finally returned, bringing Colt with him. “Okay, we’re good for now. I’ve convinced the locals that Chelsey was a federal witness and that we are going to take care of getting her body removed from the hotel.”
Duncan stood and pulled the blanket off Chelsey. She blinked up at them. Shifted and winced. Duncan ran a washcloth under cold water and offered it to her. She placed it on the abrasion along the back of her head. “Okay, where are we going?”
“First we need a plan. I don’t know that taking the private plane we arranged is the right thing to do, if we’re faking Chelsey’s death,” Slade pointed out. He turned toward Colt. “Did you find anything on the shooter?”
“No, although there was a woman standing off to the side who seemed interested in what was going on. When I went over to talk to her, she took off. She was likely the screamer. I’m fairly certain the guy was set up on the top of the strip mall a few blocks from here.” Colt’s expression was grim. “They must have narrowed down the two possible locations as this place or the one across the street. The view from the strip mall encompasses both hotels.”