When they left the cabin, the boys showed Jordan how to use the keypad, proving to her that the earlier “accidental” alarm had been very much on purpose. Though she could have scolded, she didn’t want to ruin the happy mood of hiking together and being outdoors. Blake led the way up the slope to the clearing where they’d gone last night. The twins dashed around the edges of the clearing and circled the firepit.
“Can we build a fire?”
“And cook weenies?”
Ignoring a plethora of demands and questions, Blake said, “Okay, I want you to use your compasses to find a path that goes northeast.”
After a couple of false starts, they scampered down a trail, passed a grove of gold-leafed aspen and went deeper into the woods. She strolled beside Blake. The earthy scents of the forest comforted her. After being sequestered in the Institute, she felt lighthearted and free. Sunlight warmed her cheeks. The beautiful, blue-sky autumn day almost made her forget the peril hanging over them.
“I like the way you’re handling this,” she said, looking up at Blake. “You’re teaching them an escape route without being scary.”
“We’ll follow these paths every morning until the directions are stuck in their memories. They’re good kids. Smart.”
“In terms of more aggressive protection,” she said, “are you prepared?”
“If that’s a roundabout way to ask if I have weapons, the answer is... Oh. Hell. Yes.”
“Not surprised.”
“Four hunting rifles and two handguns, all of which are locked in my gun safe except for my Glock, which I slept with under my pillow last night.”
Her feelings about guns seesawed back and forth. As a young woman growing up with a single mother in Boston, she wasn’t much interested in weapons. When she started in journalism, guns equated in her mind with street violence, and she favored gun control. That attitude changed. While embedded with the military in combat zones, she understood the vital function of weaponry in self-preservation. She learned to shoot with handguns and rifles but frankly preferred her titanium baton and karate moves. Her latest stance was the result of being the mother of energetic twins. Her brain fixated on the statistics for accidental shootings and gun deaths for kids under eighteen in 2021. It was over 5,200 in the United States. In many situations, guns were necessary, but she didn’t like them.
“I’d prefer to keep the guns away from the boys,” she said.
He nodded. “I hadn’t planned on target practice.”
“They get into everything.” Ahead of them on the path, the twins had come to a fork. They checked their compasses before deciding to go right and head uphill. “I can’t turn my back on them for a second.”
“I know what you mean.”
She also knew that he had an awareness of safety and how guns should be used. Still, she couldn’t stop herself from asking, “What if the boys stumbled across your Glock when you weren’t looking?”
“I’m always looking.”
“Really? I mean, do you know where your gun is right now?”
“In a concealed holster fastened to my belt at the small of my back.” He brushed back his untucked flannel shirt to show her. “If Gruber attacks on this trail, my fire power isn’t much good if it’s locked in a safe. FYI, I’m also carrying a hunting knife and a switchblade.”
She sighed. “I keep forgetting that you’re no stranger to violence.”
“I am now and always will be a battle-ready marine.”
“Exactly what I need.” She dropped her voice to a soft, intimate level. “More than that, you’re exactly what I want.”
Up ahead on the path, the boys were waving and shouting. “We’d better catch up to them,” Blake said, “before they tear the mountain apart.”
On a ridge above the trail, they’d located the entrance to a mine that was closed off by rough, weathered boards. Though not readily visible from the path, Jordan had the feeling that this was the destination Blake had intended for them to find. Her impression deepened when he unzipped the pack slung across his shoulders and took out four LED headlamps with elastic straps.
He passed a headlamp to her. “You’re going to need this.”
Not thrilled, she dangled the headgear between her thumb and forefinger. “Do you remember how I feel about dark, enclosed spaces?”
“Claustrophobia,” he said. “Sorry, Jordan, but you’ve only got two choices. Either you get over it or you explain to the kids.”
He joined the twins outside the mine, handed them the headlamps and showed them how to put them on and adjust the straps.
“Where did you get this stuff?” Alex asked.
“Some are gifts from Chester who likes to go caving, which is also called spelunking.”
Cooper laughed. “Spelunking? That’s a funny word.”
“The headlamps are handy to see where you’re going at night when you want to keep your hands free, like when you’re hunting or fishing after dark.”
Very little about caving or nighttime hunting appealed to her, but her sons were observing Blake with something akin to hero worship. He had headlamps and compasses, not to mention the holstered Glock and switchblade, which he hadn’t shown them. She didn’t want to be the sissy who was scared to go into the mine, but she couldn’t ignore the involuntary flush of apprehension that raised her core temperature. Under her light jacket, she’d begun to sweat.
Blake pointed to the thick boards blocking the gaping entrance. “If you ever see another boarded-up mine, do not enter. You got that? It’s not safe. This place is special. Chester and I checked it out, reinforced the supports and made it secure. It’s a tricky route, meant to slip into and come out of.”
“What about dwarves?” Cooper asked. “They work in mines. Is this a gold mine?”
“I’m not sure. All the ore that was there has been removed.”
“So...no dwarves?”
“Not that I know of.”
He went to the side of the entrance and pushed aside a clump of sage and juniper to reveal the edge of a long board. He pulled and twisted until there was a space just large enough for a regular-sized person to slip through. Jordan guessed it would be a tight squeeze for extra-large Blake.
Cooper echoed her thought. “Blake’s too big. He’s not going to fit.”
She gave a nervous laugh. “You might be right about that.”
“No problem. I’ll go first and check it out.” Blake turned on his headlamp, dropped into a squat, ducked under the boards and disappeared into the darkness. From inside, he called out, “Who’s next?”
Jordan dragged her feet. She was content to wait outside and cheer for them when they emerged. For her, the spelunking wasn’t going to happen. She hugged both of her brave boys. Her job was to protect them, not the other way around. “You go ahead. I’ll see you on the other side.”
After the kids darted inside, she adjusted the shrubs so the opening into the mine shaft wouldn’t be obvious. From inside the cave, she heard the echo of Blake’s deep voice. “This way. Keep to the right.”
Stepping away from the mine entrance, she found a comfortable seat on a granite rock and tilted her head back. Sunshine poured over her like a soothing balm, and all her senses came alive. The breeze tickled. She heard the sounds of the forest. The temperature had begun to cool. She tasted the approach of winter and snow.
This time, claustrophobia won. What was that quote? “Discretion is the better part of valor.” She didn’t need to take unnecessary risks.
JUST BEFORE LUNCHTIME, Blake returned from the market with groceries, miscellaneous supplies and a rotisserie fried chicken. After they ate, Jordan left the twins with him and took the car for her turn at a general merchandise store to purchase clothes and office supplies. With the skies clouded over and the cool weather sliding toward cold, she needed to make sure the twins were prepared—with boots, mittens, hats and jackets—for the impending snowfall. During the brief time she’d spent in Colorado, she’d experienced sudden weather changes, and Blake assured her that October wasn’t too early for a blizzard. While he’d been shopping, she and the twins took advantage of the still-temperate day to hike along Chipmunk Creek, a twisty little stream, too shallow for fishing, that led through the forest to Paddington Lake, named for one of the first settlers in the area.
The twins had spotted the short dock at the water’s edge where a couple of rowboats were moored. If they’d had more time and less urgency, she would have immediately agreed to take them out on the lake. But the threat of danger crept closer with every passing minute. She couldn’t let her guard down.
Earlier, she’d received a text message from Spike indicating activity from Khaled. The casino owner blamed Hugh for her investigation and decided to pursue his own search for her. Dissent among the bad guys seemed like good news for her. If they bickered with each other, they’d be less likely to worry about evidence she might be gathering. One of them might even decide to turn on the other, giving evidence of wrongdoing in exchange for a lighter sentence. As she drove toward the turnoff near Carbondale, she worried that Khaled might stumble across information about Emily. Would it be smart to toss a bit of misdirection into his path?
She pulled the Suburban over onto the shoulder and texted that question to Spike. The response from him was lightning quick. He had two more tidbits of information. First of all, Khaled and some of his men had flown on a private jet out of Harry Reid International Airport at dawn. Their destination was unknown. Jordan breathed a sigh of relief. If the gang from the Magic Lamp wasn’t searching in Vegas, Emily the chopper pilot wasn’t on their radar. Secondly, Spike texted the address for Tim Rockwell in Aspen.
When she hadn’t known the precise location, the idea of tracking down Rocky had been too vague. Now, she knew where the squirrel was holed up. If she finished her shopping fast, she might have time to check out his house before she rushed back to the cabin.
Merging into the minimal traffic, she remembered the topographical map on Blake’s dining room table. Up ahead was a fork in the road. A left turn, heading north, took her toward Glenwood Springs. To the right was Aspen, only about thirty miles away. Tempting.
She did the math in her head. A detour into Rocky’s neighborhood would add about an hour and a half to the time she’d allotted for shopping. Too long to be away from the boys. And she wanted Blake to be with her for backup.
But if she took a chance and met face-to-face with Rocky, she might bring a swift and positive end to her investigation. As Hugh’s accountant, Tim Rockwell had access to all the financial paperwork that could prove extortion and fraud. Before he abruptly quit six months ago, she’d found him in Hugh’s home office at the mansion, a place he seldom went to work. She’d slipped into the large room on the first floor. After checking to make sure none of the security guards were around, she had closed the door and greeted Rocky. “Good afternoon, I’m surprised to see you here.”
“There are a few records I needed to access for tax purposes.” He’d stood behind the massive piece of carved, antique furniture that suited Hugh’s large frame very well. In contrast, Rocky seemed dwarfed by the monstrous desk. “I’ll be done in a minute.”
“Take all the time you want,” she’d said as she sauntered across the large, well-lit room with a wall of arched, multi-paned windows. “It’s nice to see somebody who isn’t carrying a gun or pushing a political agenda. I’ve always thought we had a lot in common, you and I.”
She hadn’t been lying. With her penchant for making agendas and plans, Jordan had accepted that she was kind of a perfectionist who liked having everything organized.
“I think so, too.” When Rocky smiled, he revealed two prominent buckteeth that reinforced his nickname. His dark eyes—magnified by round glasses—made him look even more like a squirrel. “I can tell that you like details. So do I. And you’re very careful with your money, aren’t you?”
She and Rocky had had this discussion before. For years, he’d wanted to combine her private savings, investments and accounts with the Waltham estate. Thank goodness, she hadn’t listened to his advice. “I won’t change my mind, not until I have unfettered access to everything Hugh owns. We both know that’s not going to happen.”
“Afraid not.”
“I like doing my own accounting. It’s a grown-up activity, and I sometimes need a break from the kids.” She lowered herself into a chair on the opposite side of the desk and gestured for him to sit. With a welcoming smile, she hoped to get him talking. “You handle all the payments for the house staff and nannies, right?”
“I do.”
“Did we ever have a young woman named Bianca working here?”
“Oh my, no.” His nose twitched, and he blinked nervously. “Are you talking about the Bianca who was murdered?”
She didn’t try to hide her interest. Rocky would see through a ruse. “I want to write an article about her death. You know I’m a journalist. Can you help me?”
“I knew her. A beautiful girl with long black hair. She was so young. A tragic murder.”
Jordan bit her lip to keep from debating the idea that the death of a pretty girl was more important than the demise of one who wasn’t so lovely. She strongly believed all murder was heinous but didn’t need the distraction. Reading Rocky’s sad eyes told her that he’d known Bianca and mourned her. Maybe he knew who killed her. “Did you ever talk to her?”
“I heard her singing a lullaby in Spanish. I speak the language fluently, you know. Bianca confided in me, told me she was pregnant. Couldn’t believe it, I just couldn’t. She was so very young.”
“So young.” She leaned forward, resting her forearms on the desktop. “Did she speak of the father?”
“The father of her child? Why, yes. Yes, she did. She had fallen in love with him. He was older, a powerful man.”
“You didn’t approve,” she said, encouraging him to keep talking.
“Of course not. He had obviously taken advantage of that sweet, young lady.”
The name, tell me his name. She had been on the verge of an important discovery. Before she could push her advantage, the door to the office swung open and Ray Gruber stalked inside.
He snapped at her. “You don’t belong here, Jordan.”
“Well, maybe I don’t live here anymore but it’s still my house, Gruber. I can go anywhere I want.”
“Don’t play dumb. Move it.”
She stood opposite Rocky at the desk and grinned at him. “I enjoyed our chat. I hope we can talk again soon.”
They never had a chance. Less than a week later, Rocky had quit, causing her to wonder if their conversation had played a part in his disappearance.
She stared through the windshield and made a U-turn back toward the cabin. If she could talk to Rocky again—in person—he might tell her who was the father of Bianca’s babies and who had murdered her. But she wouldn’t take that risk until Blake could return with her. For once, she would exercise caution.