скачать книгу бесплатно
A piece of soggy, yellow tape stirring in the breeze indicated that she’d reached the spot. Law enforcement had drilled orange caution cones into the ground around the mine opening and had boarded over the top. Nobody would be able to use this abandoned mine for any kind of nefarious purpose again.
She nudged one of the cones with the toe of her boot—it didn’t budge. Wedging her hands on her hips, she surveyed the area. No recognition pinged in her chest. Her breathing remained calm, too, so nothing here was sending her into overdrive.
Not that she’d really expected it. Wyatt Carson had chosen this place to stash his victims because he’d discovered it or had searched for someplace to hide the children, not because he’d known it from twenty-five years before when he was just a child himself, when his own brother Stevie Carson had been snatched.
But one kidnap story might lead to another. Maybe the Timberline Trio had been held here before...before what? If she really were one of the Timberline Trio, those children obviously weren’t dead. So, why had they been kidnapped? Why had she been kidnapped?
There was something about this place—Timberline—that struck a chord within her. As soon as she’d seen that stuffed frog in the window of the tourist shop during a TV news story about the Wyatt Carson kidnappings, she’d known she had to come here. She could be Heather Brice, and she had to find out.
Crouching down, she scooted closer to the entrance of the mine. When Carson had found it, the mine had a cover that he’d then blocked with a boulder. All that had been removed and cleared out.
She flattened herself onto her belly and army-crawled between the cones. Someone had already pried back and snapped off a piece of wood covering the entrance.
With her arms at her sides, she placed her forehead against one slat of wood and peered into the darkness below. She’d like to get down there just to have a look around. Maybe the local sheriff’s department would allow it if she promised to get their mugs on TV.
A swishing noise coming up behind her had her digging the toes of her boots into the mushy earth. She’d just put herself into an extremely vulnerable position—an idiotic thing to do with that ex-con roaming the woods. A branch snapped. She slipped her hand inside her pocket and gripped the pepper spray, her finger in position.
A man’s voice yelled out. “Hey!”
Then a strong vise clamped around her ankle. This was it. In one fluid motion, she dragged the pepper spray from her pocket, rolled to her back, aimed and fired.
The man released her ankle immediately and staggered back, one arm flung over his face.
Beth jumped to her feet, holding the spray in front of her with a shaky hand, ready to shoot again.
Her attacker cursed and spit.
Beth’s eyebrows shot up. The ex-con had gotten bigger...and meaner.
Then he lowered his hands from his face and glared at her through dark eyes streaming with tears. Those eyes widened and he cursed again.
He cleared his throat and coughed. “Beth St. Regis. I should’ve known it was you.”
Beth dropped her pepper spray and clasped her hand over her heart. She’d rather be facing a tiger right now than Duke Harper—the man she’d loved and betrayed.
Chapter Two (#ulink_fd56e8d4-8df8-564e-9d6c-9e2465e7ee95)
Duke’s eyes stung and his nose burned, lighting his lungs on fire with every breath he took. Even through his tears, he couldn’t mistake the woman standing in front of him, her shoulder-length, strawberry blond hair disheveled and her camera-ready features distorted by surprise and...fear.
She should be afraid—very afraid after the way she’d used him.
He kicked at the pepper spray nestled in the green carpet between them. “Is that the stuff I gave you?”
“I...I think so.”
“Then I’ll count myself lucky because that’s expired. You should’ve replaced it last year, but if you had, I wouldn’t be standing upright forming words.” He pulled up the hem of his T-shirt to his face and wiped his tears and his nose.
Miss Perfect would hate that he’d just used his shirt as a handkerchief—and that was fine with him. He peered at her through blurry eyes and she still looked perfect—damn it.
She wrinkled her nose. “I’m sorry. I thought you were an ex-con attacking me.”
She must be referring to Gary Binder, unless there were other ex-cons in Timberline who lived out this way. He’d already done his homework on the case but he had no intention of sharing his info with her. Oh, God, she had to be here for the same case he’d been assigned to investigate.
He narrowed his already-narrowed eyes. “You’re doing a story for your stupid show on the Timberline Trio, aren’t you?”
“That stupid show, as you call it, got a point-six rating last year, more than half of those viewers in the prime demographic.” She tossed her hair over one shoulder as only Beth St. Regis could.
“Junk TV.”
She clapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide. “Oh, my God. That’s why you’re here. You’re investigating the Timberline Trio.”
“What else would I be doing here?” He lifted one eyebrow and crossed his arms. “Do you think I followed you to Timberline?”
Red flags blazed in her cheeks. “Of course not. Why would I think that? What we had was...”
“Over.”
“Yeah, over.” She waved her hand in the general direction of his face. “Are you okay? I really did think you were that ex-con coming after me. Why did you grab my leg?”
“I thought you were falling in.”
“Through that small space?”
“I couldn’t see how big it was.”
“I was fine. As soon as I heard you coming, I got ready for the attack. You told me once I needed to be more careful, more aware of my surroundings.”
“Good to see you’re taking my advice...about something.” He ran a hand across his face once more and sniffled. “Where’s the rest of your crew, or are you a one-woman show now? I guess Beth St. Regis doesn’t need other people—unless she’s using them.”
Her nostrils flared but she ignored the barb. “I’m doing some prep work. My cameraman and producer will be coming out later.”
“And the circus will ensue.”
“If the FBI is involved, there really must be something to investigate.”
She brushed off her jeans that fit her a little too closely, so he kept his blurry eyes pinned to her face.
“Isn’t that why this case is on your radar? You must’ve heard about the new information we got during the investigation of the copycat kidnappings.” He cocked his head. “Come to think of it, I have a hard time believing the old Timberline Trio case is sexy enough for Cold Case Chronicles. Maybe you followed me out here.”
Her sky blue eyes widened for a split second and then she giggled nervously, her hand hovering near her mouth. “I have no idea what happened to you after...that last case, Duke Harper. You dumped me, and it’s not like I’ve been following your career or anything like a stalker.”
A thrill of pleasure winged through his body at her lie. So she’d been tracking him. What did that say about him that the thought gave him satisfaction? It also meant she knew about the royal screwup that had resulted in the death of his partner, Tony.
“That’s okay. I haven’t watched one of your shows, either.” The slight lift at the corner of her luscious lips told him she’d picked up on his lie, too.
“I suppose you’re not interested in joining forces, are you? Pooling our resources? We’re an unbeatable team. We proved that before.”
He snorted. She didn’t deserve an answer to that one. They’d been an unbeatable team in bed, too, but that hadn’t stopped her from playing him.
“What were you doing crawling around on the ground?” He pointed to the cover over the mine.
“Prep work.” She sealed her lips. “Where are you staying while you’re here?”
“Timberline Hotel.”
She raised her hand. “Me, too.”
He pasted on his best poker face. “Makes no difference to me.”
“Do you have a partner with you or are you working alone?”
A partner? The FBI would have a hard time trying to find someone to partner up with him after Tony. He shoved his hands in his pockets and kicked at a gnarled root coming up from the earth.
“Oh, come on, Duke. Whether or not you’re working with a partner is not giving up any classified info.”
He shrugged. He had no intention of giving this woman one morsel of information. She should know that working a cold case was like being exiled to Siberia—for him, anyway. This was punishment and he didn’t want to discuss his failure with her.
“I guess you’ll follow your leads and I’ll follow mine.” He circled his finger in the air. “How long have you been here?”
“Just a couple of days. I’m trying to get a feel for the place. I even brought my own video cam.”
A flock of birds shrieked and rose from a canopy of trees and the hair on the back of Duke’s neck stood up. Hunching forward, he crept toward the tree line.
“What are you doing?” Beth’s voice sounded like a shout and he put his finger to his lips.
Voices carried in the outdoors and those birds had taken off because something—or someone—had disturbed them. The abandoned mine was in a clearing, but dense forest and heavy underbrush hemmed it in on all sides.
The trail from the road had wound past an abandoned construction site to the clearing, and it continued on the other side. The birds had come from the other side.
He reached the beginning of the trail and took a few steps onto the path, his head cocked to one side. Leaves rustled and twigs snapped, but that could be animals going about their business. His gaze tracked through the blur of green, but he didn’t spot any movement or different colors.
City life had his senses on high alert, but a rural setting could pose just as much danger—of a different kind.
He exhaled slowly and returned to the clearing, where Beth waited for him, hands on her hips.
“What was all that about?”
He pointed to the sky. “Those birds took off like something startled them.”
“I told you I saw a rough-looking guy out here on a bike. Maybe it was him.”
“Doesn’t explain why he was hanging around. I don’t know that you should be traipsing around the forest by yourself.” He snorted. “You’re hardly an outdoor girl.”
She kicked a foot out. “I have the boots.”
He opened his mouth for a smart-ass reply but someone or something crashed through the bushes and they both jumped this time. Duke reached for the weapon tucked in the shoulder holster beneath his jacket and tensed his muscles.
He dropped his shoulders when three teenage boys came staggering into the clearing, laughing and pushing each other. The roughhousing came to an abrupt halt when they spotted Duke and Beth.
The tallest of the three boys stepped forward, holding a can of beer behind his back. “Is this, uh, official business or something?”
The other two edged back to the tree line, trying to hide their own beers.
“Nope. I was just leaving.” Duke leveled his finger at the boy. “But you’d better not be operating a motor vehicle.”
“Driving? No way, sir.”
Beth flashed her megawatt smile at the trio of teens. “Do you boys live here? I’m from the TV show Cold Case Chronicles, and we’re doing a show on the old Timberline Trio case.”
“Oh, hey, yeah. My mom watches that show all the time.”
One of the other boys, a pimple-faced kid with a shock of black hair, mimicked the tagline of the show in a deep voice. “Cold Case Chronicles...justice for all time.”
“That’s us.” Beth nodded. “So, how about it? Any of you know anything about that case? Parents around at the time?”
The one who’d spoken up first said, “Nah, we just moved here a few years ago when my mom got a job with Evergreen Software.”
The kid with the acne answered. “Same here.”
The dark-haired boy with the mocha skin who’d been quiet up to now ran a hand through his short hair. “My family was here, but they don’t talk about it. We don’t talk about it.”
“We?”
Duke rolled his eyes as Beth tilted her head, that one word implying a million questions if the boy wanted to pick one up. The teen had better run now if he wanted to avoid that steam train.
The tall, skinny boy answered for his friend. “Levon is Quileute. They believe in voodoo magic and boogeymen.”
Levon punched his friend in the arm and the tall kid dropped his beer where it fizzed out in the dirt. “Hey, man.”
All three boys picked up where they’d left off, crashing back into the woods, cursing at each other and laughing, startling a flock of birds with their raucousness.
“Well, that’s interesting.” Beth tapped the toe of her boot. “I wonder what that boy meant about the Quileute not talking about the crime. Did law enforcement ever question anyone from the tribe?”
“Not that I know of, but I’ll leave that to your superior investigative talents.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “It’s been real, but I gotta go.”
“I guess I’ll see you around, Duke. We are in the same hotel, same small town, same case.”
“Don’t remind me.” He waved over his shoulder and hit the trail back to his rented SUV, putting as much space as possible between him and Beth St. Regis, his mind as jumbled as the carpet of mulch he was plowing through.
She looked the same, except for the clothes. Beth had always been a girlie-girl—high heels, dresses, manicured nails, perfect hair and makeup. The jeans, boots and down vest suited her. Hell, a burlap sack would suit Beth. She had the kind of delicate beauty that shifted his libido into overdrive.
He’d fantasized about those girls when he was a teen growing up on the wrong side of the tracks in Philly—the rich girls with the expensive clothes and cars, the kind of girl that wouldn’t give him the time of day unless she wanted to tick off her parents by running with a bad boy.
He’d been drawn to Beth like a magnet for all the wrong reasons. You couldn’t use a living, breathing person to fix whatever you’d missed in your childhood. But, man, it had felt good trying.
When he’d had Beth in bed, he couldn’t get enough of her soft porcelain skin, the way her breast fit neatly into the palm of his hand and the feel of her fine, silky hair running down his body.
The thought of those nights with Beth’s slim legs wrapped around his hips got him hard all over again, and he broke into a jog to work off the steam.
