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“Just about everybody,” Spence noted with a very slight emphasis on the middle word.
Mace made no comment. Every town had its lightweights, and Mustang Creek was no exception, but that was beside the point. All that mattered now was that the Wright woman hadn’t gone rolling down that hillside with the car. She’d walked away, still breathing, possibly in need of some patching up, but alive.
A shudder went through Mace, reminding him that his clothes were soaked through, clinging to his hide, clammy and cold. He was hungry, he was tired to the marrow of his bones and he was damn grateful that fate, so often fickle, had dealt Kelly Wright a decent hand.
“Mace?” Spence asked. “You still with me?”
“I’m here,” he replied.
“I’m guessing there isn’t a whole lot more you can do tonight. Might be best if you go on home.”
“Soon as I know Kelly’s all right, I’ll do just that. She’ll probably need a ride to the resort. That’s where she’s staying.”
“Fair enough,” Spence agreed diplomatically. “I’m thinking the lady will be admitted for observation, though, and the kind of tests they’ll want to run can take hours. You really want to cool your heels in the waiting room for that long?”
Mace sighed. “She’s from out of town. Seems like somebody ought to hang around until they decide whether to keep her overnight or turn her loose.”
“Fine,” Spence conceded. “We’ll do what we can on our end.”
Mace found himself nodding, then realized his friend couldn’t see him. “Her name’s Kelly Wright, and the car was a rental, but she couldn’t say which company she used. That’s about all I can tell you, as of now.”
“Not to worry,” Spence said. “Mustang Creek PD works in mysterious ways its wonders to perform. Ask Ms. Wright to call me when she feels up to it, will you? There’ll be some paperwork, of course.”
“I’ll do that,” Mace answered. Goodbyes were exchanged, and the call ended.
Mace was pacing the floor when a young couple hurried through the main doors, looking anxious. The man carried a toddler, bundled in a blanket and whimpering.
Ellie appeared immediately, her smile wide and white and reassuring. She greeted the new arrivals, handed the woman a clipboard and led the trio to an exam room.
When she returned to the reception area, she returned Mace’s cell phone. “Kelly asked me to give you this.”
“Thanks,” he said. “Any news?”
Ellie shook her head. “Not yet,” she said, gently noncommittal. “Want some coffee?”
“No, thanks.” He was hyped up enough, he figured, without a caffeine buzz.
“How’s your night going?” he asked. He wasn’t a talker under normal circumstances, but the waiting was driving him crazy.
“Better than yours, I’d say,” Ellie replied with an understanding smile. By then, she was back at her station behind the reception desk. “So far, business has been pretty slow. Which, of course, is a good thing.”
Mace realized he was fresh out of sparkling conversation. He sat down in an orange plastic chair, opened an outdated copy of Field & Stream, read one paragraph of an article about trout fishing in Montana and gave up.
Another hour passed, during which an elderly woman was brought in with respiratory problems, and the young couple returned with a prescription and their child, now sound asleep, head resting on the man’s shoulder. Mace nodded in greeting, and the man nodded back.
Soon afterward, Sheila Draper came out, spotted Mace and smiled as she approached. She was a good-looking redhead with a figure that did great things for the blue scrubs she was wearing.
“Hey, Doc,” Mace said. Sheila had grown up on a neighboring ranch, and the two families were longtime friends.
“Hey, yourself,” Sheila responded. She carried an electronic tablet but didn’t consult it, and there was a twinkle in her bright green eyes. “You can rest easy, Sir Galahad,” she said. “Kelly isn’t seriously injured, just shaken up and a little dehydrated. I’m admitting her overnight, for observation and the appropriate fluids.”
Something unclenched inside Mace. He heaved a deep sigh. And even as the question took shape in his mind, he wondered why he needed to ask it. He’d done what he could for Kelly, and he knew she was in good hands, had been from the moment he’d brought her in.
He asked, anyway. “Could I see her?”
Sheila shook her head regretfully, touched his arm. “Not tonight, Mace. I gave Kelly a sedative, and she’s on her way upstairs. I’m guessing she’ll be zonked before she gets to her room.” The rest went without saying—Kelly needed sleep, not visitors.
He nodded again, sighed again.
Then he thanked Sheila, said goodbye to Ellie and left for home.
* * *
MACE CARSON DIDN’T remember her. Not quite, anyway.
That was okay for now, Kelly decided, rummy from the sedative she’d been given minutes before. She remembered well enough for both of them.
She closed her eyes against the bright overhead lights and the dizziness as she was wheeled, lying on a gurney, into an elevator, then down a long hallway. She flashed back, momentarily, to another hospital, another night, over a decade before.
The recollection made her want to curl into a fetal ball, but the medication and the IV needle lodged in her arm rendered any such movement impossible. Too much effort.
Another memory flooded her mind, soothed her. Mace had been with her that other time, too. He’d accompanied her to the hospital, holding her hand. He’d told her everything would be all right, that she was safe now, that nobody was going to hurt her. He’d promised to be there when the police came to question her, and he was as good as his word when she was discharged the following morning. He’d driven her to the police station, sat with her while two SVU detectives questioned her about the events of the night before, when, walking to her dorm, she’d been assaulted and nearly raped.
Mace, a student at the same California college, had heard the scuffle, hauled the man off Kelly and restrained him until the police arrived.
How could Mace have forgotten all that? Perhaps he made a habit of saving people. Did it happen so often that one incident blended into the next until it was all a blur?
She giggled at the thought.
Tomorrow, or maybe the next day, she would see Mace again. If he still didn’t recall their first meeting, she’d just have to refresh his memory, though that wasn’t her first priority.
She’d come to Mustang Creek to do business with the man, after all, not to renew their old—and brief—acquaintance. Great Grapes International, the company she worked for, wanted to establish a partnership with Mountain Winery, something they’d done successfully with other vintners.
Big of them, Kelly thought. As far as she could tell, the board members had zero doubt that everything would go their way; their confidence bordered on outright arrogance, in her opinion. She didn’t know much about Mace Carson as a person, after one dramatic encounter and a few brief meetings during her attacker’s trial, but recent online research had filled in a lot of gaps.
Carson wasn’t likely to be swayed by the money GGI was prepared to offer, as the Carsons were among the wealthiest families in Wyoming. Mace’s company appeared to be a labor of love, rather than a source of income; the winery was debt-free, and the net profits went to various charities.
Kelly had explained these things to upper management, of course, or tried to, anyway. And she had gotten exactly nowhere.
Failure wasn’t an option, her boss, Dina, had informed her cheerfully. If GGI had a motto, it would be Rah-rah-rah.
Thinking about it, Kelly sighed. She knew the power of a positive mind-set, especially after years of company-sponsored “you can do this!” seminars, ranging from standard motivational talks and “trust exercises,” like depending on someone to catch her when she fell backward, to trekking barefoot over beds of red-hot coals.
She’d done all those things and, yes, it was true—the experience of walking on burning embers did cast a new light on what was possible.
It was also true, however, that no amount of positivity or fearlessness or persistence was going to sway someone who didn’t want to be swayed. Mace Carson, she was all but certain, fell into this category. He liked his independence far too much...
Kelly was in over her head this time, and she knew it, but she had too much riding on this deal to give up without even trying. She was up for a promotion of life-changing proportions, with some heavy-duty perks, such as profit sharing and stock options, access to company jets, opportunities to work overseas, six-figure bonuses and more than double her present salary.
The equation was a simple one: no deal, no promotion.
Lasso the moon, or crash and burn.
Bruised and scraped, dazed by pain meds and good old-fashioned exhaustion now that the adrenaline rush had subsided, Kelly closed her eyes. Sighed again.
She could worry, or she could sleep.
She chose the latter.
CHAPTER TWO (#u55a14d5e-4b5f-50a2-8e95-30ba2ed3acd7)
WHEN KELLY OPENED her eyes again, morning was in full swing, and bright sunshine had replaced yesterday’s rain. She took a few minutes to orient herself—she was in a hospital room in Mustang Creek, Wyoming. There were three other beds, all empty.
She performed a brief mental scan of her body.
A mild headache.
A few aches and pains.
In other words, nothing major.
A nurse’s aide appeared, carrying a breakfast tray and sporting a cheery smile. Her name tag read Millie.
“If I were you,” Millie began, deftly maneuvering the bed table into place and setting down the tray, “I’d go out and buy myself a lottery ticket. Considering what could have happened, you’re a lucky woman.”
Kelly smiled. “Maybe I’ll do that.”
“How do you feel?” Millie asked, lifting a metal lid to reveal a plate of runny scrambled eggs, limp toast and two strips of transparent bacon.
“Much better,” Kelly answered, eyeing her breakfast with a wariness she hoped wasn’t too obvious. Until about five seconds ago, she’d been hungry.
Millie chuckled, evidently the perceptive type. “First we patch people up,” she joked, “and then we confront them with hospital food. Ironic, isn’t it?”
Kelly grinned, picked up a slice of toast and nibbled at the edge. Her headache was already beginning to subside; this woman’s mere presence was a tonic. “I don’t suppose you know when I’ll be discharged?” she ventured.
Millie sighed, though her smile didn’t waver. She removed the plastic lid covering a cup of coffee. “Can’t say,” she replied. “The doctors are making their morning rounds, though, and I’m sure one of them will have an answer.”
With that, she headed for the door, nearly colliding with a tall, dark-haired man in jeans, a long-sleeve white shirt, boots—and a badge. He smiled down at Millie, took off his hat and stepped aside to let her pass before entering the room.
“Ms. Wright?” he asked.
Kelly nodded, set down her coffee cup.
“My name’s Spence Hogan,” the man said, “and I’m the chief of police. Mind if I come in?”
Kelly was only half kidding when she answered. “Not at all. Unless you’re here to arrest me for leaving the scene of an accident, that is.”
His smile was the kind that probably caused a seismic shift every time it flashed across that tanned, rugged face. “You’re in the clear, Ms. Wright,” he said, crossing the room to stand a few feet from her bedside. “I’m here to take a statement, that’s all. And, unfortunately, to tell you that your rental car is a total loss.”
“I figured it would be,” Kelly said, wondering why he’d come to the hospital personally rather than sending a deputy or someone from the office.
Clearly, he’d guessed what she was thinking, because there was a spark of amusement in his eyes. “I came by to look in on a friend who’s recovering from an emergency appendectomy. It made sense to kill two birds with one stone, so to speak, and pay you a visit, too.”
“Oh,” Kelly said.
He took a smartphone from his shirt pocket and tapped an icon. “I just need a few details about what happened,” he told her. His voice, deep and laconic, reminded her of Mace’s, a fact that both jangled and soothed her nerves. His eyes were clear and direct as he met her gaze. “First, though, I have some news. The rental car people have been notified, and they’re sending a replacement from Jackson. Should be here by the end of the day.”
“That’s good.” Kelly hesitated, almost afraid to ask. “My things—my handbag and laptop and suitcases—were any of them recovered?”
“The purse and the laptop came through all right—evidently, they were thrown from the car while it was rolling down the hill, because my deputy found them on the bank.” Spence Hogan paused, winced humorously. “I’m afraid everything else went up in smoke when the rig exploded.”
Kelly gulped. “The car exploded?”
“Yes,” Hogan answered, solemn now. He was probably thinking how easily Kelly herself might have been blown to flaming pieces; she certainly was.
“But it wasn’t burning when Mace—Mr. Carson and I left. And the rain was really coming down hard.”
Hogan raised one shoulder slightly, lowered it again. “Must’ve been some kind of delayed reaction. It happens.”
A shudder ran through Kelly. She felt herself go pale and, for one awful moment, she thought she might throw up.
Concern furrowed the chief’s brow, and he slipped the smartphone back into his pocket. “We’ll talk about the accident later,” he decided. “Do you want me to call a nurse or a doctor?”
Kelly swallowed hard, shook her head, attempted to smile. “I’m okay,” she said.
And she was. Thanks to Mace Carson.
Talk about déjà vu.
She’d come to Mustang Creek to see Mace again—but not for personal reasons; she was on an important mission for GGI, and he was a vintner with a flair for innovation. She was here on business, in other words.
The opportunity to reiterate her gratitude for his help ten years ago was a bonus.
Chief Hogan took a business card from the same pocket housing his phone and laid it on the bedside table. “When you’re feeling better, give me a call.”
Kelly, busy breathing her way through the what-might-have-been scenario splashing across the screen of her mind, promised she’d be in touch. Hogan excused himself and left.
Five minutes later, Dr. Draper, a titian beauty with shadows of fatigue under her eyes, arrived. “Hello, Kelly. Remember me?”
Kelly smiled. “Yes. You were on duty in the ER last night, when I came in.” She paused. “Was that a test?”
Dr. Draper laughed quietly. “It wasn’t, actually, but I would’ve been pretty concerned if you’d said no.” She came to stand beside the bed, took Kelly’s pulse. “How are you feeling today? Any double vision? Pain?”
“No double vision,” Kelly replied, as Dr. Draper put the earpieces of her stethoscope in place and listened to her patient’s chest. “I had a slight headache when I woke up, but it’s gone now.”
Dr. Draper nodded, tugged the stethoscope free of her ears and let it dangle from her neck like a strand of pearls. “Any dizziness?”
“No,” Kelly answered.
