Chapter Five

Mikayla stared at Linc as she rubbed at her forehead where a dull throbbing made its presence known. He’d been wrong when he’d said she’d needed to let loose. What she’d needed was to get herself under control. The shock of the attack had crashed over her like a rogue wave at the beach, and she’d done what had worked since age thirteen when she’d hidden herself away in her bed, clutching a pillow to her with eyes tightly closed, pushing back on her emotions until the crisis passed. She never allowed herself to cry. This evening she’d pulled the sleeping bag over her head, curled into a miserable knot, and waited until the shaking stopped. As usual, the tight control left her with an aching head and bone-weary exhaustion. She owed Linc for fighting off her attacker, for tending to her, so she would answer his questions, but what she really wanted was to crawl back into her tent and sleep the clock around. She cleared her throat. “I have no idea.”

“This doesn’t feel random to me.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You a cop or something?”

“Or something.”

She frowned, watching a moth fluttering around the lantern. “I don’t have enemies.”

Sitting across from Linc within the small circle of light, his face shadowed, felt oddly intimate. He seemed at ease, but she had the sense there was a lot of pent-up energy in that big muscular body, like a heavyweight boxer waiting for the bell to ring.

“Think. Consider anyone who might want to hurt you, who has a beef.”

“You mean besides the crazy guy with the knife?”

“I mean someone who would hire him to come after you.”

“Hire him? Now you’re the one who’s acting crazy. No one would hire someone to hurt me. No one even knows where I am.”

“No one?”

She shifted restlessly. “My mom and brother do, that’s all. Give it a few days and my mom may want to disown me, but she doesn’t want to hurt me.”

“Disown you?”

She waved her hands. “Family issues that aren’t relevant. My brother knows what campground I’m at, but he’s the only one. Mom knows I’m somewhere in Utah.”

“It’s usually not that hard to figure out where people are. Have you used a credit card today?”

She shook her head. She’d paid cash when she’d put her engagement ring in the mail the day before.

He lifted a brow. “Did you have reservations for this campsite?”

“Yes, I made reservations. But no one wants to hurt me so the question is irrelevant.”

Headlights shone through the trees and a truck stopped at the Weingartners’ site.

“That’ll be the ranger. I’ll walk over there with you.”

Mikayla nodded. As defensive as his questions made her feel, she was unreasonably glad for his company.

As they approached, the park ranger got out of his truck, leaving the headlights on. He set his Smokey Bear hat on his head and Mikayla saw the gun holstered at his side. He tipped his head toward the Weingartners when they stepped out of their motorhome. “Bob, Janice, good to see you.” The ranger ushered them to stand in front of the truck where they could talk in the beam of the headlights.

Bob Weingartner waved toward Mikayla. “This here’s Mikayla O’Kane, the young lady who was attacked up on the river trail. The fella is Linc Jameson, who helped beat the guy off.”

The ranger turned to them. He looked to be in his early forties, with high cheekbones on a strong, round face. He held out his hand. “Alex Smallcanyon.”

They shook, then he released his hand to shake Linc’s. He tipped his head toward Mikayla. “Would you mind going over what happened for me?”

She related the incident, describing how she’d turned back when the sky had started to darken. How she’d felt someone watching her. Her heart tripped faster as she described the moment she’d turned to find the man behind her. Throughout, she was aware of Linc standing at her elbow, arms crossed in front of him. “Mr. Jameson kicked the knife out of his hand and it flew into the river. The guy pretty much gave up at that point and took off.”

The ranger’s dark gaze settled on Linc before moving back to Mikayla. Mrs. Weingartner uttered a quiet, “I’m so glad you’re safe.”

Mikayla cleared her throat. “I think the guy had been following me since yesterday.”

“You didn’t tell me that,” Linc said abruptly.

“I didn’t have a chance to.”

Smallcanyon motioned for Mikayla to continue.

She cast a wary glance at Linc. “I kept seeing the same car in my rearview mirror. It was a black four-door sedan. He was behind me when I left the restaurant outside Las Vegas where I had breakfast, and when I stopped for gas in St. George, he stopped too.”

“He followed you all the way to the campground?” The ranger had taken out a notepad and pen, and now paused his busy scribbling.

“Ah, no. I, um, disabled his car.”

“You what?” Linc’s words came out in a bark, and his gaze narrowed. She got the feeling that by nature Linc Jameson was an intense guy, and being the focus of that intensity was a bit unnerving. Exciting, but unnerving.

“I let the air out of one of his tires when he was in the bathroom. I thought I could shake him.”

Linc flashed a grin, white teeth briefly visible. Mikayla caught her breath. Holy cow.

“Smart girl, but why didn’t you call the police if he was following you?” Linc asked.

“I couldn’t be sure, and since he had to deal with his tire and I got off the interstate pretty soon after that, I thought I’d taken care of it.”

Smallcanyon spoke to Linc. “What were you doing on the trail at the same time she was attacked? That was a bit late to start off on a hike.”

Linc gave Mikayla a long look before turning to the other man. “I saw the guy head for the trail shortly after Mikayla left. There were enough red flags about his appearance I decided to follow him.”

The ranger nodded. “Okay, tell me what happened from your perspective.”

“He must have been traveling fast because he’d flanked her and was already on her by the time I heard her yell. When I got there, Mikayla was facing him, her back to the river. She’d bloodied the guy’s nose. He had a tactical knife and looked ready to jump her. We exchanged a few blows, I disarmed him, then pulled her away from the drop-off. That’s when he took off.”

Smallcanyon narrowed his gaze. “Can you give me a description?”

“Hispanic, five ten, one seventy, short beard, black and brown. Baggy blue jeans, long-sleeved black t-shirt, Dodgers ball cap, which he retrieved before he ran off.”

The ranger gave a short laugh. “What agency you with?”

Blowing on her hands for warmth, Mikayla paused. Agency?

Linc reached for his wallet, opening it to show a badge with a star and ID. “Marshal’s service.”

“Deputy US Marshal Lincoln Jameson,” Smallcanyon read.

She should have guessed. Quick thinking, skilled fighter, the big guy was a cop.

“Thanks, Marshal.” Smallcanyon made a note in his pad. “You went after him?”

“Yeah. He had a jump on me and by the time I got through the trees, he was out of sight. He could have hidden somewhere. I looked around best I could given it was getting dark, but I was concerned about Mikayla so I started back.”

Smallcanyon nodded and made another notation before looking up. “I stopped at the Upper Falls campground on my way here. The camp hosts hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary, but they don’t monitor the day-use parking area. The guy could have had a car there.”

“That’s likely. There’s no car here that could be his. My guess? He was waiting for Mikayla to go off on her own so he could follow her. He could have hiked here from the other campground, or been dropped off.” Linc lifted his chin at the ranger. “Any cases with the same MO recently?”

Smallcanyon shook his head. “Nothing. Things have been quiet since the summer season. There was a report of a guy having his phone stolen off him over in Zion, but that was weeks ago.” His gaze settled on Mikayla. “If your attacker is the same guy who followed you yesterday, then you weren’t a random target.”

Linc nodded his agreement. “That’s what I think.”

“Wait a minute. You can’t seriously believe this guy was after me personally. I mean, yes, I think he saw me at the diner and targeted me. So maybe he was looking for a woman traveling alone and I fit the bill. But he’s not someone I know from California.”

“That doesn’t mean he doesn’t know you.”

Mikayla shivered. “That’s crazy.”

“Not crazy. I’ll be back in a sec.”

Linc walked away from the group. Alex Smallcanyon spoke quietly. “Mikayla, when did you first meet Jameson?”

She frowned. Did the ranger suspect Linc was involved? Linc might come off as a bit cocky, but that likely came from self-confidence. He seemed to think over a situation and then have unwavering conviction that his assessment was correct. However much that self-assurance might rankle, she could use a dose herself. “I first met him when he disarmed a guy attacking me with a knife. As much as I’d like to say that I can protect myself, he most likely saved my life.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’m just covering all my bases. You two are camping in sites across from each other. Who was here first?”

“He was.”

“Had you spoken to him before the incident on the trail?”

“No.”

“Has he said or done anything to make you think he knew your attacker?”

“No.” Her responses were blunt, but Linc had literally jumped in to help her and for that she felt she owed him her loyalty. She might have been able to defend herself, but she also might have ended up in the river or lying bloody on the trail if Linc hadn’t decided to follow the guy.

Linc returned to the group and she saw he’d pulled on a sweatshirt. He handed Mikayla a heavy jacket. “Here, put this on.”

Donning the jacket over his sweater, the added layer immediately warmed her. Feeling self-conscious wearing Linc’s clothing, she hoped the darkness hid the flush she felt creeping up her neck. The curse of fair skin. She wasn’t used to someone looking out for her.

Smallcanyon put his hands in the pockets of his coat. “If the assailant’s intention was to do you harm, Mikayla, and if he’s not someone you know, he could be, as you say, someone looking for a vulnerable female.” He shrugged. “It’s also possible, as Mr. Jameson suggested, he’s someone who knows you but of whom you are unaware. Regardless, he had criminal intent.”

Mikayla stared at the ranger, a feeling of unreality settling on her. This couldn’t be happening. The world might be full of crazy people, but her world wasn’t.

He continued. “I’ve alerted rangers in all the nearby parks as well as local law enforcement. I’ll send out a description of the assailant. Can I have cell phone numbers for both of you?”

Mikayla recited her cell number and saw Linc keying it into his phone. He gave Smallcanyon his number, then cocked his head at her. “Do you have your phone on you? I want you to put in my number.”

She pulled her phone from her pocket and took his number, but felt compelled to point out the obvious. “I don’t know what good this will do. Cell reception at the campground is super weak, and close to nonexistent anywhere else.”

“It’s better than nothing.”

Alex Smallcanyon said his good-byes with a promise to be in touch if anything developed. The Weingartners returned to their motorhome.

Mikayla walked back to her campsite beside a silent Linc. Her mind raced with a confusing kaleidoscope of images from the day. The early rainstorm, the sun reflecting off the canyon walls as she hiked the trail, the frightening grip of the unknown assailant, the river racing fast and dangerous below. The big man speeding around the bend. Using fists and feet, he’d fought to protect her. Then there’d been that breathless moment when the ground was collapsing beneath her and he’d clamped his arms around her and pulled her against his body. She knew that had simply been part of the effort to keep her safe, likely instinctive on his part, but she couldn’t deny in retrospect that moment when, for the first time in far too long, she’d felt a surge of awareness.

And when they’d returned to camp, he’d bandaged her wound and made her soup. Heady stuff, and she’d need to be careful not to be seduced by the romance of the big, strong hero-type swooping in and rescuing her. Mentally, she recited the mantra she lived by. Take care of yourself, don’t rely on others. Only you are responsible for your own happiness.

They reached her campsite and she turned to him. He stood silent, broad shoulders blocking out a wide swath of the night sky, making him seem impossibly strong. Her hands burrowed into the deep pockets of his jacket. “I should have guessed you were in law enforcement.”

“Why is that?”

She shrugged. “It explains a lot. The way you reacted on the trail, the questions you asked.” She figured his watchful expression must be habitual.

“I have more questions, but they can wait until morning. I think we’ve both had enough.”

She gave a brief nod and started to shrug out of the jacket. The night temperature had plummeted, but she felt warm under the layers of Linc’s clothing.

He held up a hand. “Keep it on. I’ll get my things back from you later.” He gave a half salute and turned toward his camp.

Mikayla stepped into her tent to ready herself for bed. When packing for this trip, she hadn’t expected the nights to be quite so cold, and wished now she’d packed an extra blanket and her heavy coat. Feeling a bit guilty, she crawled into her sleeping bag still wearing Linc’s sweater with her flannel pants, and then she spread his jacket on top of her bedding.

She lay curled on her side, groaning as bruises made their presence known, more grateful than ever that she’d bought an inflatable air mattress for the trip. What happened on that trail would have kept her awake for long hours, but the security of knowing Linc lay in his own tent only a short distance across the road allowed her mind to rest enough for her to slip into sleep.

***

Mikayla blinked her eyes open to the light of daybreak. She shifted to her back, ignoring the discomfort in her shoulder. The river was a muted rumble in the early morning quiet, while closer the distinctive call of a blue jay sounded.

Sitting up, she unzipped the tent flap, cocking her head to see past the awning. The stars had faded from view and the canyon wall stood in dark silhouette against the pink and lavender of the dawn sky. Leaves rustled in the cottonwoods and Mikayla spied movement where the campground bordered the forest. A doe stepped tentatively into the clearing, pausing to nibble on a tuft of grass.

Mikayla slipped on her shearling boots and stepped outside, breathing the earth-scented air deep into her lungs. Not a cloud in sight, which meant the day would be beautiful and likely warm by mid-afternoon.

She glanced across the road to Linc’s campsite. The tent flap was open, which made her wonder if he was still inside. She’d noticed him the previous day before the rain had started. Where other campers spent the day hiking or fishing, he’d hung around his campsite. How anyone could spend so much time sitting in a camp chair when there was so much to see and explore, she had no idea.

He’d taken himself off on a short walk in the late morning, then returned to spend the next hour pretty much motionless, sometimes reading, sometimes not, long legs sprawled before him as he sat, butt planted in a sling-bottom chair. There were times she thought he’d been sleeping in that chair, but somehow she knew he hadn’t been because she’d felt his eyes on her.

Hard to tell behind those mirrored aviator shades, but if it were possible to feel someone’s gaze like a physical touch, she’d felt Linc’s. When the rain started, he’d shoved his chair into the back of his Jeep and hitched himself inside. That was the last she’d seen of him until he’d rounded the bend in the trail to rescue her.

After a quick trip to the restroom, she opened her bear-proof locker. She filled a pot with water and lit the stove before setting it on the burner. Opening an airtight container, she spooned coffee beans she’d ground at home into her double-walled French press. Once boiling, she poured the steaming water over the grounds, set the lid in place to let it brew, and got out a pan to make oatmeal. She took a moment to gaze at the sky now streaked orange by the rising sun. This was why she’d come. The serenity and beauty of early morning in the outdoors did more to soothe her soul than anything else in the world.

A rustling noise from Linc’s campsite caught her attention as she pressed down on the plunger of the French press. Her hand wobbled and she nearly dumped the pot as he emerged from his tent.

Oh Lord. Trying not to ogle, she peered at him from the corner of her eye. He’d looked dark and dangerous the previous evening, all tousled hair and scruffy beard. But this morning the man had transformed into a gorgeous specimen, as in mouthwateringly gorgeous. Dark briefs, the kind that came down the leg a bit, covered a tight butt, and unless you counted the black hair on his head, he wore nothing else.