Caroline was no stranger to panic attacks. The bone-chilling fear she felt right now might have sprung from her subconscious. But what if it didn’t? What if the gunshot was real? Her arms and legs drew in close to her body as she curled herself on the pine-cone-strewn forest floor in the clearing behind the cabin. She gritted her teeth and pried open her eyelids as she desperately tried to summon the willpower to search for the shooter,
Fearful of what she might see in the shadows of late afternoon, she scanned the wall of pine trees and craggy boulders. Was that sunlight gleaming on the barrel of a pistol? Or was it only a gray branch?
“Come on, Caroline, stand up.” Max was angry. “You’re going to get filthy.”
“Someone is trying to kill us.”
“Us?” Inside his scraggly goatee, he sneered. “Don’t include me in your fantasies. I’m an innocent bystander. Nobody wants to kill me.”
“Why me?”
“Because you murdered Virgil.”
“No,” she shouted. “How can you say such a thing?”
Peering into the heavy forest, she saw the flash from the gun’s muzzle. She heard a pop. And another, which was definitely not loud enough to be gunfire. He had to be using a silencer. Her pulse skittered. Her breathing fluttered. If she did nothing, the bullets would find her. She pulled her knees under her body. The fresh dressings on her scraped hands were already dirty, and the flashy leggings were smudged. Her plan was to spring to her feet, make a wild dash to the cabin and wrap herself in John’s embrace. Even if he didn’t see a monster in the trees, he wouldn’t make fun of her the way Max did.
She needed to go now, to run from the danger. What about Max? She had to take him with her, couldn’t abandon him. Even if he was a first-class jerk, he didn’t deserve to die. She leaped to her feet, grabbed his arm and tugged him toward the cabin. “Come with me. Now.”
“I don’t think we’re welcome at the crime scene.”
John had specifically told her not to allow Max into the cabin, but that instruction didn’t apply in this situation. No way would John advise her to be a sitting duck for a mystery shooter. They had to run. No time to talk. “Now, Max.”
“All right, if it’ll make you feel better.”
She dragged him to the Dutch door that led to the kitchen and pulled the yellow crime scene tape aside. She opened the door and dragged Max inside with her.
John stared at her. “This is an active crime scene. You have to leave.”
“Up the hill in the clearing,” she said, “there’s a shooter. I think he has a silencer.”
“Or maybe he’s not there at all.” Max patted her shoulder. “Nobody blames you for seeing things. You’ve been through a lot, sweetie. You need a little nap.”
“Don’t patronize me.” She shoved him away from her. “I heard three gunshots. Didn’t actually see the shooter, but I saw the flash from the muzzle of his gun.”
“You’re frightened,” Max said. “It feels like you’re being attacked.”
He made that statement sound like an accusation, and she protested. “Damn right, I’m scared. But I’m not making this up.”
“To you, the shooter is real.”
She turned to John. “Are you going to investigate or not?”
“You can’t be here.”
“But the shooter...”
“I’m on it.” He signaled for two other deputies to accompany them to the nearest police vehicle. With their weapons drawn, they hurried along the gravel driveway packed with cars. When she and Max were in the back seat, John leaned in and said, “Stay here. The deputies will check the hillside. You said the shooter was in the clearing, right?”
“On the hill above the clearing.” She nodded, grateful to be taken seriously. “Three shots.”
She sat stiffly, staring through the car window. Her pulse continued to race, and a cold sweat trickled between her shoulder blades and down her forehead from under her cap.
When Max reached over and rested his hand atop hers, she tried to pull away from him. But he held firm. “I’m worried about you.”
She refused to meet his gaze. “Is that why you accused me of killing my uncle?”
“You can’t blame me.” He ticked off reasons on his fingers. “Number one, you came here to confront the guy. Number two, you were angry. Three, you were alone with him. Four, and this is the biggie, you had a gun.”
“It wasn’t my weapon.”
“I heard,” he said. “The police checked registration, and the Glock belonged to Virgil. You found it here in the cabin. Convenient?”
“I’m not a murderer,” she said with quiet intensity. “I’m a good person, and it’s not in my nature to kill anyone.”
“You’re confused and upset, but don’t worry. I’ll take good care of you after we’re married.”
“Here’s the deal, Max. Your so-called proof that we’re engaged doesn’t work for me. And it doesn’t matter. If there was ever anything between us, it’s over.”
“You don’t mean that.”
Caroline stuck out her chin and glared at him. “I’ll be staying at Dolly’s. I want my suitcase and my car.”
“Fine.” He spat the word. “Your suitcase is still in the Tahoe so I can give it to you right now. Then you can change into one of your boring little T-shirt-and-jeans outfits to go with your boring denim cap.”
When he flicked the brim, she snapped. “I’m wearing this to cover the dressing on my head wound. By the way, I’m feeling okay after my stay in the hospital. Thanks for asking.”
“I’m going to need your car until I can arrange for a rental.”
“No longer than a day.”
“Why are you being so bitchy? I talked to Lola earlier. She’s as worried about you as I am. She said that she might come to Colorado to help you.”
“She doesn’t need to.” But Caroline would be glad to have her therapist here. “Why is she talking to you? She should contact me.”
“Or you could make the call.”
Which was exactly what Lola would say. Caroline needed to take charge of her own life. “Maybe I will.”
He grasped her hand again and squeezed her fingers. “You don’t remember what you were like before Lola helped you manage your depression and PTSD. You used to be constantly struggling, like you were just now in the clearing. You thought people were after you. Paranoid. Depressed. Whenever you misplaced something, you were certain that it had been stolen. And those were on your good days.”
“I remember...” She shook loose from his touch. “I remember enough.”
Some of his accusations struck a chord within her, but she didn’t trust his opinion. Yes, she’d been depressed, but she had dealt with her problems. She earned a living as a CPA, worked in a setting with other professionals and lived in a pleasant condo, where she paid bills, shopped for groceries and made her bed just like everybody else.
And then she remembered the most difficult issue in her personal life: the lack of a true, committed relationship. Approaching the Big Three-O, her biological clock was bearing down on her. She wanted to find love, wanted a real home and children. She and Lola had talked about her situation many times. Why was Caroline so guarded? Why did she find so many reasons to break up and so few to stay together? Was she afraid of men? Afraid of love? When was the last time she’d gone on a third date?
As if on cue, John strode into view as he approached the police car. Easily, she could imagine a relationship with someone like him, even though he lived three states away from her home in Portland. Long-distance relationships almost never worked. Getting involved with him was exactly the wrong thing to do.
“The deputies didn’t find signs of a shooter on the hill,” he said as he opened the car door. “There were no shell casings. No bullets.”
Her heart sank. “I didn’t invent those gunshots from thin air.”
Max gave a disbelieving snort.
“I didn’t say I was done investigating,” John said. “I’d like for you to come with me and pinpoint the place where you saw a muzzle flash.”
“Waste of time,” Max muttered.
“And you,” John said. “I have to ask you to leave. This is an active crime scene.”
She stepped out of the car. “First, I should get my suitcase from the Tahoe and stow it with the deputy. He’ll give me a ride back to Dolly’s B and B.”
Aware that she was suspected of paranoia and panic, Caroline made sure that her gait was measured and her posture erect. Though her emotions were in turmoil, she wanted to create the appearance of calm control.
Somehow, Max had snagged a good parking place on the crowded road outside the cabin. The three of them approached her Chevy Tahoe as a man in a tailored charcoal suit strode toward them. He was the classic image of tall, dark and handsome. If she’d been searching for a mate based solely on physical appearance, this guy would have won. John introduced him. Rafael Valdez was the nephew of the Durango-based lawyer, Edie Valdez, and he was an investment counselor.
He took her hand and made sizzling eye contact. “My condolences, Caroline. Your great-uncle was a wise man and a good friend.”
Max acknowledged him with a nod. “We already met. At your aunt’s office.”
Her first impression of the man with the shining black hair and smooth caramel complexion was tainted by his association with Max, though it wasn’t Rafael’s fault that he’d been in contact with her soon-to-be ex-fiancé.
John asked, “What can I do for you, Rafael?”
“I’ll be seeing you at the poker game tonight,” Rafael said, “but since I’m in Sagebrush this afternoon, I thought I’d find you and offer my assistance in your investigation. As you know, I was Virgil’s financial advisor.”
John glanced at Max, then at her, before he gave Rafael his full attention. “My questions can wait.”
“Don’t be discreet on my account,” Max said. “We all want to know if Virgil was rich.”
“Well, that depends on your definition of rich.” Rafael arched his sculpted eyebrows and looked toward John. “Would you prefer to talk privately?”
Though she didn’t approve of squeezing Rafael for information, she had to admit the parameters of Virgil’s wealth made her curious. His log cabin seemed like the home of a man who had very little expendable cash. But he’d always sent a hundred-dollar bill for her birthday and Christmas. He’d loaned Dolly enough to buy her B and B, and he had enough capital to require the services of a financial advisor.
“You and I can go into detail later,” John said. “But I see no harm in giving ballpark figures.”
“Well, in Virgil’s case, the home team hit a grand-slam home run. He had beaucoup bucks. I’ve made investments for him in the high six figures.”
Caroline felt her jaw drop. She saw a similar reaction from John. Oddly, Max was calm, perhaps too calm, as he said, “That’s a handy motivation for killing the old man.”
He turned away from the icy disgust radiating from John and Rafael, who had more gracious sensibilities about the recently deceased. Max pulled her suitcase from the back of the Tahoe, placed it at her feet and climbed into the driver’s seat. Before he drove off, he waved. Though Caroline didn’t care if she ever saw him again, she was concerned about her Tahoe.
After John bid farewell to Rafael and promised to talk to him tonight at the poker game, she was finally alone with the deputy. “Now what?” she asked.
“I want to check the hill behind the clearing, maybe find a clue about the shooter.”
“Thank you for believing me.”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“Max didn’t,” she said. “He thinks I was having a panic attack. And he says Lola feels the same.”
“I base my opinions on facts. If you heard a gunshot and saw a muzzle flash, there was a shooter.”
“I could have made it up.” No shell casings, no bullets. “I didn’t, I swear I didn’t. But I could have.”
“Follow me.” He turned and hiked into the forest on a dirt path. “If you’re in danger, it’s my job to protect you.”
She inhaled through her nostrils and counted to five, then held her breath for four and then exhaled to a count of six—a mindful technique she’d learned from Lola. Concentrating on her breath, her muscles released the tension she’d been holding. Walking behind John on the path, she felt safe. Nobody would dare attack her when she was with him. She asked, “How well do you know the drop-dead-gorgeous Mr. Valdez?”
“He’s smart, successful and well-connected. Durango is growing, becoming more of a city, and Rafael fits in with the new crowd. Oh, yeah, and he’s gay.”
He led her into the clearing. Though the ground was dry and not good for taking footprints, he was able to show her where the ground had been disturbed. “Max stood here.”
She pointed to the scrapes and shuffles in the pine needles, twigs and dirt where she’d curled up in a ball. “Here’s where I ducked down to get away from bullets.”
“Is this where you were when you saw the muzzle flash?”
She nodded.
“I need to get your perspective to understand what you were seeing.” He placed her in the center of the vague imprint. “Show me your position when you saw it.”
She lowered herself to the ground and got down on her knees. This memory was recent and strong. She peeked up from the ground and pointed into a thicket of pines and rocks. “Up there.”
He joined her. With his head even with hers, he took off his hat and stared up the hill. “Like this?”
“Lower.” Lying flat on her belly, she dropped to her elbows, arched her back and lifted her chin. Looking straight up from this position, the trees were closely packed and thick against the surrounding granite boulders.
John stretched out beside her and mimicked her position. “Like this?”
There was a strange intimacy about their side-by-side pose, as if they had awakened in bed together. Her gaze slid down his body. His legs were so much longer than hers. She imagined what it would be like if she and John were entwined. When his arm rubbed against her shoulder, her careful breathing accelerated, and heat prickled across the surface of her skin.
She raised her arm and pointed. “There. In the middle of those branches. That’s where I saw the flash.”
His silver-gray gaze linked with hers. In his eyes, her attraction was mirrored. If she moved more than six inches, their bodies would connect. If she tilted her chin and eased toward him, their lips would meet. If she opened her mouth...
He rolled away from her and stood. After slapping the dust off his jeans, he reached down to help her stand. Her hand was small in his grasp. She felt his strength as he pulled her upright.
Together, they hiked up the hill to the thicket of pines and shrubs. John focused on the ground and the bushes. He was a tracker, noticing broken twigs and scrapes through the dirt. “No clear footprints,” he said, “but plenty of partials. Over there is a heel mark. This is a place where a toe dug out a small divot. I see plenty of signs that someone or something has been up here.”
“Something?”
“Could be deer. Squirrels, chipmunks or rabbits.”
“Squirrels wearing boots?”
“The forest is a habitat for all kinds of animals. And men.” He stalked past her to a waist-high rock nestled in the trees. “Your shooter could have ducked behind here, hiding. He might have rested the barrel of his gun on this surface to steady his aim. But I doubt that happened.”
“Why not?”
He gestured for her to come closer to him. When she stood in front of him, he turned her to face downhill. “Can you see where you and Max were?”
“Yes.” She leaned against him. Her back molded against his broad, solid chest.
“If the shooter bothered to take aim, he could have easily scored a hit. But he fired three times and missed.”
She appreciated his logic and was grateful for his willingness to believe that she’d been attacked, but her focus was on listening to the way his voice rumbled inside his rib cage when he spoke. They were close enough that she could smell his woodsy scent, which mingled with the faint whisper of soap from a morning shower. He hadn’t taken a break since then. His day had been filled with investigating, trying to clear her name. More than anything, she wanted to turn around in his arms, reach up to hold his face and kiss him hard on the mouth. The urge to do so was nearly a compulsion. Unable to stop herself, she turned.
She didn’t remember ever being so attracted to a man. Amnesia? Or maybe this unexpected chemistry had never happened to her before.