Czytaj książkę: «Colorado Manhunt»

ONE

Deputy US Marshal Noah Trent glanced in the rearview. Had he lost them? The older SUV had stuck behind him for the past fifty miles of Colorado highway.

Today had been a nightmare from start to finish. First, a prisoner transfer had gone horribly wrong. Now two marshals were dead and three inmates had escaped. He’d hit the road almost as fast as the news had come.

One inmate had been caught, but the other two men were still in the wind. It was assumed they weren’t together. Too bad that was about all the marshals knew.

If Jeremiah Sanders was loose, it meant one thing. He’d dig up his sister’s whereabouts and be at her doorstep faster than you could say, “Incoming.”

The man wanted to put his sister, Amy, in the ground as revenge for testifying against him. Then there was the death of Jeremiah’s son. Despite what happened to the teen, Jeremiah held her responsible for that, as well. As though she’d been the one to cause the car accident.

Hopefully Jeremiah was still in Washington state, and nowhere near his sister.

Noah looked back for the blue SUV again. He gripped the wheel the same way he’d done all afternoon. Then he tapped the screen of the rental car and listened to the phone ring through the speakers.

“Withers.”

Noah said, “It’s Deputy Marshal Trent.”

“Any problems?”

“An SUV behind me, but I lost them,” he told his boss.

“Good,” Withers said. “We don’t need this turning into more of a circus than it already is.”

“Yes, sir.”

Withers was all about damage control. Noah didn’t fault him, but playing all the angles had to be exhausting. Now that he was within twenty miles of Amy’s home, Noah didn’t want that SUV to show up again. It would mean leading them right to her.

“Everyone in the Northwest is out looking for those missing inmates.” Withers sighed. “I could call the local police to meet you.”

“I’m not sure what we could tell them, sir.” Noah wasn’t about to call in a suspicious SUV without having to explain who she was and why he was here.

Withers said, “They’re probably watching for Sanders and Pepperton, anyway, considering the BOLO just went nationwide.”

“Good.” Noah was glad law enforcement across the country would “be on the lookout” for Jeremiah Sanders and the other escaped prisoner—Richard Pepperton.

“Gotta go,” Withers said. “Another case update just came in.” He hung up.

Had Jeremiah made his way to Colorado? And how would he even know where to find his sister, considering she was a protected witness? Everyone knew he hated her. Those who hadn’t heard him screaming in that courtroom had learned about it from the media coverage.

How much time did Noah have before Jeremiah somehow discovered his sister’s whereabouts?

Noah glanced back again to check for the blue SUV. Nothing. Could be cartel foot soldiers following him. Jeremiah had worked with them and was reportedly still doing so in prison. Maybe they’d deployed people all over, looking for Jeremiah or his sister.

Noah would almost rather see the SUV again. Then he could lead it somewhere that was nowhere near Amy’s cabin. He wasn’t about to put the woman in danger. Noah was going to ignore the fact she fired all his instincts to keep someone safe. Well, obviously that was true since he was a marshal. Keeping people safe was what he did.

But Amy and her huge green eyes, full of fear, just hadn’t let go of him. It had been a year since they’d had that…moment. Since they’d almost kissed, and then one of his coworkers had walked in. He should’ve forgotten about her by now.

Noah sighed, a reply to the hum of the tires on the road. He’d vowed a long time ago that relationships weren’t for him if he wanted to make director before he was fifty. There were too many people who needed protecting, and he couldn’t be distracted by a woman he wouldn’t know for long before she faded out of his life.

Again.

Noah checked his rearview once more before the turnoff to her cabin. He drove down the gravel road, past the vacation cabins. A couple of cars were parked outside.

It was another six miles to Amy’s place. When the marshal in charge of her case had securely sent him the location, simply because he was closer, Noah hadn’t been able to believe the city girl would be so far from anywhere.

Then he saw it. Her cabin, nestled in a clearing. Single story. Probably one bedroom. Boards on the outside had been replaced, the varnish on those planks a slightly different shade than the rest. Floral drapes. Empty flowerpots on the porch.

She needed a rocker.

The idea of getting one for her made his lips curl into a smile. He parked and trotted to her front door, energized by the idea of seeing her. Seemed a shame to make her leave, but he could get her back here to her nice cabin soon enough. It was the exact kind of place he’d love to go on vacation. If he ever took one.

Noah knocked on the front door, and it creaked open. His other hand readied to pull his gun. He had to be prepared for anything.

“Amy? It’s the US Marshals.” He could get to who he was soon enough, when she knew she was safe.

He stepped inside and looked around. Tiny kitchen, rustic furniture that looked more comfortable than his. The TV had been left on.

Paused.

The screen showed a prison picture of Jeremiah and the other man, both still at large. Presumed extremely dangerous. Across the bottom of the screen it read Call Police Immediately.

Noah called out, “Amy!” again.

No answer.

He walked through the cabin, checking for her in the bathroom and bedroom. His pace quickened as he went, as each second ticked by and he didn’t find her. The mudroom at the back was piled up with boots, shoes and tennis shoes. Jackets and sweaters hung, and the back door was wide open.

She wasn’t here.

Noah stood on the step at the back door and yelled, “Amy!”

Amy gripped the gun in trembling fingers, crouched behind a downed tree. She knew that voice.

It was Noah.

Relief rushed through her, but hot on its heels was the realization that she couldn’t be certain she could trust him. Right now she wasn’t certain she could trust anyone.

She bit her lip. Seeing her brother’s face on the TV, and then hearing the car out front, she’d fumbled with the remote before dropping it. There had only been time to grab the gun and run out the back door. No panic to cloud her thinking, which meant she was already outside running across the frozen grass of the lawn before she even thought to get shoes. Now that the adrenaline had dissipated she could think straight.

Amy stood. She held the gun in front of her and gingerly wandered in his direction. “Noah?”

Even if he meant to hurt her, she could shoot him. Right? Okay, probably not, given their history. She tried to act strong, but it wasn’t like she could actually get over the fear that liked to paralyze her. She’d thought her days of facing down her brother were over.

Now all that had come rushing back with one word.

Escaped.

“Amy!” He trotted over as she made her way to him. The look of worry on his face helped. He scanned her, head to toe. “You ran outside with no coat, and no shoes?”

Only then did she realize that under the sleeves of her shirt gooseflesh prickled her skin. She had a short-sleeved T-shirt on over a long-sleeved undershirt. That was something, at least. But with skinny jeans and wool socks, it wasn’t much protection against the frigid temperatures.

“There was no time,” she argued. “I thought you were Jeremiah.” She would have left that spot where she’d been hiding and run deeper into the brush if it had been anyone but Noah. She didn’t even trust the marshal assigned to her case.

His gaze softened further. “Let’s get you inside.”

She nodded. Her socks were wet, making her toes numb. “I just put a pot of coffee on.”

“We can turn it off before we leave.”

She glanced over at him, slowing her pace. “I’m not leaving.” He wasn’t just here to brief her? She’d assumed he would hang out here until her brother was caught. Make sure nothing happened to her.

Amy shivered at the idea that her brother might actually find her. Didn’t Witness Security—which most people knew as the witness protection program—have measures in place to keep that from happening? It was hard to believe that in a matter of hours after escaping from federal custody, her brother would be able to locate her and reach her doorstep.

She didn’t want to ask, but had to. “Is there something I don’t know?”

Noah said, “Let’s get inside. You’re shivering.”

“I’m not all that worried about being cold, considering there’s a murderous maniac on the loose.” Even after all this time she didn’t like referring to her brother that way. But there was little point in refusing to accept reality.

She stepped inside, and he shut the door behind them. “You have a bag ready?”

“My ‘go’ bag?” That was for emergencies. “Is Jeremiah on his way here?”

Noah lifted one shoulder. “The truth is we have no idea where he is. So the quicker you can get a coat, shoes and your bag, the faster we can get out of here. There’s a safe house set up.”

“This was supposed to be my safe house.” She had to say it. Even though arguing was futile, she had to voice those things. Tiny flashes of defiance against everything Jeremiah had put her through.

Yes, it had been her choice to testify against him. But it had been the right thing. Otherwise who knew what destruction he would’ve caused in the end? Or how many lives might have been lost.

He’d told her he was trying to find a job so he could get on his feet, and properly support his son. She’d gotten him a cell phone on her plan so prospective employers could contact him. A few weeks later, when he hadn’t said anything to her about any interviews, she’d looked at his texts on her online account.

That was when she’d discovered the truth. Jeremiah had been transporting drugs and guns for a cartel.

It had broken her heart. What else could she have done when feds showed up at her doorstep except turn everything over to the FBI?

Amy got clean socks and put a pair of boots on. She added a sweater, even though she was going to put her thick coat on. Gloves and a scarf. A hat. She’d gotten used to Colorado winters, and loved the chill in the air, but the cold set in fast no matter how “used to it” she was. Her “go” bag had a packet of those hand warmers in it, the ones she liked to slip inside her gloves when she went snowshoeing.

“Ready?” Noah had two insulated tumblers out. He replaced the carafe and topped one tumbler up with cold water—he took his coffee black. Amy got her bag while he put milk in hers and screwed the lid on. He walked out of the kitchen. “No sense wasting good coffee.”

He handed one tumbler to her, leaving one of his hands free. She shot him a look. “How do you know I don’t buy the cheap stuff?”

They headed for the door, and she saw his shiver. “Don’t even joke about that.” Car keys jingled against the tumbler as he walked. At the front door, he waved her to the side. No smiles.

She knew the drill.

Noah pulled his weapon out. She’d stowed hers in her “go” bag just in case she was caught alone. In her experience, US Marshals tended to get mad when a protectee tried to help them do their job.

He toed open the door and scanned. “It’s clear.”

Amy felt the hairs on her neck flutter. She stepped outside, then glanced back. Would she ever get the chance to return here? There were things she wanted. Stuff not required in her bag, but which still meant something to her. She didn’t want to lose the things she’d chosen. Just as she didn’t want to lose the life she’d started to build for herself here over the past year.

Jeremiah was ruining everything. Again.

A vehicle approached. She heard the crunch of gravel under tires, followed by the squeal of brakes.

Noah shoved her back. Coffee spilled on the entryway rug and his solid body landed on hers. Tackled to the floor. Because her brother was trying to kill her.

The rat-a-tat of automatic gunfire cut through the thump of her heart in her chest.

Noah rolled her past the line of sight in the open doorway while the gunfire continued. He covered her body. Arms over her head, so her face was nestled against his shoulder.

Wood splintered around them as the cabin was torn to pieces.

They were going to die.

TWO

He heard her whimper, but there was no time for comfort. Air rushed in his ears and he could feel wet under one knee. Spilled coffee.

“Come on.” He hauled her up and they moved.

Through the house, toward the back door. The hallway would put them in the line of fire. Noah stopped at the doorway from the kitchen to the hall and peered around the frame. The gunshots had stopped. Would one of the men come around to the back door, to try and cut off their escape?

His brain wanted to run through all those lingering questions… Who were these guys? How had they found the cabin? But dwelling on all that would only get them killed. Right now they needed to move.

Beyond the open front door—and Amy’s “go” bag that she’d dropped—was a blue SUV. The same one that had been behind him on the highway a while ago. It had to be, because in his experience there was no such thing as a coincidence. Not when it came down to protecting witnesses. But he’d lost that vehicle. They hadn’t followed him here.

Amy clutched his arm. He could hear her breath coming fast. She was scared, relying on him to keep her safe and get them both out of there. The weight of that responsibility was heavy, but not unwelcome. It was the career he’d chosen, the path on which he felt the most like himself.

“Stay here.” He tugged her to stand right up against the wall, where he’d been. “When I say, you run out the back door. Okay?”

She nodded, wide eyes full of fear.

Noah moved back the way they’d come. Both men were still outside. One watching the cabin, the other on a phone. Calling in the fact that they had found Amy? He didn’t like the idea of more men showing up.

Noah reached out with his foot and kicked the front door shut, then ducked to the side. Gunshots peppered the wood as he fired two shots through the window, obliterating the glass and screen.

He ran for the back door. They could get out, it was clear. Both men were out front and waiting…for whatever it was they were waiting for. Noah wasn’t going to do that.

He and Amy were getting out of there.

“Go, Amy! Now!” he called out loud enough she could hear, but not so loud it would be audible from out front.

In a flash of the dark material of her jacket, he saw her run.

Noah caught up at the back door just as she pulled it open. Amy stepped back and to the side, and he moved around her. If he’d explained what he wanted her to do, there was no way it would have come out that smoothly. Thank You, God. They moved as though he’d protected her for years. And in a way, he had. He’d just been doing it from afar since the trial.

A whole year.

Now they met like this?

Noah exited first, gun up. Amy tapped his shoulder.

“Come on.” He grabbed her hand and they ran for the trees.

Snow lay a couple of feet deep around the cabin. Amy steered them to a trodden-down path, crunchy rutted snow she’d apparently walked frequently.

The cold air chilled his hands, and the material of her glove over the hand he held. He picked up their pace as they headed along the path. They would be out in the open until they got to the tree line. How far did her path go? And where did it lead?

He was about to ask her when she said, “Careful of—”

Noah’s foot hit a patch of slick snow and he stumbled. His leg gave out, and his knee hit hard-packed snow. He grunted, but held the reaction back.

“You okay?”

He nodded and got his feet under him. He kept running, still holding her hand. He’d probably squeezed it to death for a second there, when his brain had realized his body was falling. Noah kept scanning the area as they ran. Waiting for the second when those gunmen figured out they’d escaped out the back and set off in pursuit.

Thankfully, the ground was so frozen they weren’t making any tracks on the rutted path. Unfortunately, however, that meant his knee throbbed with every step.

He gritted his teeth and pushed on.

“You’re not okay.” Her voice came out breathy.

“Doesn’t matter.” Maybe she was scared, and sympathy gave her something to think about beyond the fear. Whatever the reason, he liked that she cared. What he didn’t like was that they weren’t at the tree line yet.

A shot rang out.

Amy squealed. They both ducked and pressed on, running hunched over. They couldn’t veer from the path or they’d be wading in snow. Noah ran as hard and fast as he could, praying with every step that neither of them slipped.

The second he passed the first tree, he entertained the idea they might make it. Noah sucked in a breath. Tried to calm his exhale. Otherwise he was going to end up passing out.

The pathway angled to the east, and they ran along it.

He slowed, turned as he ran. Checked behind them. Those men were coming. “Where does this go?”

“Into town.”

Would they make it that far?

Amy wanted to whimper. What would giving in to the fear accomplish? That hadn’t helped during the trial. It wouldn’t help now, when her brother was coming after her. Whether that meant he would show up here in person, or send men to abduct her, she didn’t know. Could be he’d only escaped in order to force the marshals to show up at her house. All part of his plan to get revenge on her.

Use the marshals to flush her out, and then kill her.

Without her bag, which she’d dropped before they ran out, Amy had exactly one thing that might keep her alive. But revealing her secret to her brother meant putting an innocent person in danger. It was the last thing she wanted to do, despite the fact it could save her life.

Could she die to protect her nephew’s life?

Absolutely.

In a way, she already had. The person she used to be had perished. Now she was…someone entirely different, living an entirely different life hundreds of miles from who she was. Hundreds of miles from wherever Anthony was.

They ran at least another two miles until she saw the tree. Gnarled and crusty, it had been hit by lightning. Split in two. She liked to sit on it and rest, on her way into or coming home from town.

A couple of times a month, Amy walked to church. Or for a slice of pie from the diner. In summer she did it a lot more. This time of year it was harder to get around. She’d been thinking about an ATV. Too late now. Would have come in handy today, though.

“You okay?”

She glanced over. “You’re the one limping.”

“Don’t worry about me.”

“Going to play the stoic hero, protecting the damsel in distress?”

He shot her a look. “Not a cliché if it’s actually what’s happening.” He shrugged. “This is where we are. We can either complain, or we can figure out how to get to a vehicle.”

“I was thinking more like go to the sheriff’s office.”

“Does he know who you really are?”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course not. That’s why you’re here, right?” He didn’t say anything then, just scanned the area around them. She didn’t believe they’d lost those guys. Only that they’d gotten far enough ahead running flat out that they had a second to catch their breath.

Then she saw them out the corner of her eye.

“We should—”

He didn’t need to finish. Amy said, “Hide.”

“I was going to say ‘go.’ But ‘hide’ works.” He followed her around to the back of the tree. It was big enough that it should conceal them until these guys moved on. Then maybe they could go back to the cabin, and Noah’s car.

Amy watched as the two gunmen came into view. They both looked around, and then the other gunman pulled out a phone. No, not a phone. That one had a radio.

“Probably checking in,” Noah whispered, crouched beside her. He tugged his cell from his pocket, and she saw him send a text message. Or try to. “I have no signal.”

The gunman on the phone looked to be having problems, too. He looked at the screen of his phone, clearly frustrated.

Amy leaned closer to him. “Should we make a run for it?”

Noah shook his head. “We’re safer out of sight. For now. Hiding was a good idea.” He turned to watch the two men, and she got the chance to look at his face in profile.

Strong features. He probably thought his ears were too big, but she’d always thought they fit his face. She wondered what he’d looked like as a kid. If he’d gone through that awkward phase everyone seemed to have around middle school, and into high school. Then again, maybe he’d always been like this.

Steady. Protective. He’d probably had a best friend he’d helped keep safe from bullies. Or a neighborhood kid. Like that boy with Down syndrome on her street when she’d been growing up. She’d loved handing out candy on Halloween, just because he would come and she’d get to see him smile like it was Christmas.

“Amy.”

She blinked away the memories. “What?”

He pointed over her shoulder. She turned, facing the fact she couldn’t live in her memories. The good times were long gone. Nothing in her life right now was even close to that, even though she’d been working hard to be happy. Or at least trying to find some piece of “happy.”

On the opposite side of where they crouched, huddled behind the tree, two more men approached. Gunmen, or hunters? It could hardly be a coincidence that more gunmen happened to find them here.

Had her brother sent a whole army to find her? And how was it that they seemed to be closing in on their hiding spot? These gunmen had to know where she and Noah were somehow, which meant they couldn’t stay here.

She turned back to him, ready to tell him that.

“Time to run.” He didn’t look happy about it, but if he thought they should do it, then she was going to. Noah would go with what he thought would keep her alive. She was trusting him to keep them both alive.

Amy shifted around, ready to sprint, and saw that look in his eyes. One she’d seen a few times, all of them a year ago during the trial. A look that said he cared more than he was going to say about her.

She looked away from it now, because it wasn’t going to help. During the trial she’d let those thoughts distract her. They’d been a nice distraction, taking a few seconds in the middle of the insanity to think about what might have been. Right now it wasn’t going to help. Not when the reality was that their lives were incompatible. He was a marshal. She was a witness living in seclusion.

Who knew if they would even survive today?