Breath of Dawn, The (22 page)

Rick said flatly, “He’s a friend of Quinn Reilly.”

“I’ve come a long way to see her.” Markham oozed sincerity.

“Maybe you should try her house,” Hank suggested.

“Sure, sure. Can you tell me where that is?”

As if he didn’t know, she seethed.

Rick said, “About three miles east, then north on Arch Canyon Road. Little A-frame.” Since Markham had already found it, sending him back to her place might buy them time to get out.

Morgan stroked the nape of her neck, his voice barely audible. “Rudy did us a favor saying you cooked here.”

“How?”

“West won’t suspect Rick’s protecting you.”

She looked up. “He’s not Ken West. He’s Markham Wilder.”

His face showed no surprise. “Why the alias?”

“He’s a pathological liar. His whole life is one big con.”

“All right,” the liar said. “Appreciate your help.”

She pictured Markham’s ingratiating smile. He’d be holding out his hand. It sickened her to imagine Rick shaking it, but not shaking would send a message. Willing Markham to leave, she slumped with relief when the door closed.

Livie said, “We hide-a-seeking, Daddy?”

“Yeah, precious. But now we can get out.”

The others were waiting when they did.

“You did the right thing,” Celia said. “Testifying against him.”

She said
him
as she might
snake.
And it was true, but they didn’t know the rest. “How did he look?”

“Like a politician who’s done time.” Rick eyed his brother. “You want a gun?”

Gun? She blinked at those words from the holy man who raised his hands to pray.

“I’m a lousy shot,” Morgan answered.

She shook her head when Rick’s gaze shifted to her. The time she’d fired her grandfather’s pistol, she’d shaken like a leaf in a bad wind. Grandma Pearl had scolded the laughter out of his eyes, and Pops had knelt down and apologized. “Guess you’re a bit wee for it yet.”

Morgan pulled her out of her thoughts. “We have to ditch your
truck. If he found your house, he might also have the vehicle registration number. Rick, can you handle it?”

He nodded somberly.

“We’ll put the bags in the Range Rover.” He slid his hand to her shoulder. “You and Livie can take that. I’ll drive the Maserati.”

She turned. “The what?”

He pulled a slow smile.

M
organ scanned the yard through the blowing snow as he hustled Erin to the cabin to pack things for Livie. Rick had seen Markham drive away, but he could have doubled back on foot to lie in wait. A quick search showed he wasn’t in the cabin. “Lock it behind me, and wait until I park outside before you come out. I’ll most likely need to jump the Maserati’s battery, so I might be a little while.”

By now Rick and Hank were armed and patrolling. Noelle and Celia had the kids in the house. They could call the sheriff, but he’d rather get out than wait for one of the county deputies who might take hours to even get there. And what would they say? Could they prove Markham texted a threat? Vandalized her house? Maybe, maybe not. Escape sounded better.

Hurrying to the barn, he pulled open the barn door and moved past the tractor with the plow blade. He stopped beside the vehicle parked along the wall in the black formfitting cover. Softly as a mother cat opening the caul on her young, he lifted the cover off his
rosso trionfale
Maserati GranTurismo. Driving it was like straddling a cheetah, feeling the restrained muscles and sensing
an imminent burst of speed but controlling it with a whisper. It wouldn’t be easy to sneak past Markham, but then he wondered if they wanted to. If the jerk was watching, it might be possible to pull a bait and switch.

As the Maserati ground to life like a surly beast from hibernation, his phone rang. Anselm. That gave his heart a hitch. He could count on one hand the times the investigator had phoned instead of e-mailed.

“Morgan, glad I reached you.”

“What is it?”

“Did a little more digging on that felon you asked about. It appears that three years prior to his conviction, Markham Wilder was questioned, though not charged, in a couple of homicides.”

Fear flared. “Why not charged?”

“The detective couldn’t break his alibi, a woman of faith no jury would doubt swore he was working for her the whole day. She called the inquiry a witch hunt.”

Morgan swallowed. “Who died?”

“Pair of miscreants related to Wilder. Cousins, I think.”

“Case solved?”

“Still open, but they’re not working it. Detective’s sure he’s their guy.”

“Okay. Thanks.” He disconnected. Leaving the car running to juice the battery, he went into the house, took Rick’s offer, and locked the gun in the Maserati’s glove box. He couldn’t score a target on the range, but lives on the line might improve his aim.

Inside the cabin, he found Erin zipping the bag of Livie’s clothes. “Ready?”

She nodded. “Clothes and diaper bag. I didn’t know about books or—”

“It’s good enough.” He raised her by the elbow. “And I’ve changed my mind. I want you to take the Maserati to Rudy’s. He keeps a shotgun behind the counter. I’ll let him know you’re coming.”

Her eyes widened. “And what, Rudy shoots Markham?”

“Hopefully warns him off. But shooting’s okay too.”

She searched his face. “Then what?”

“Wait with Rudy until Livie and I get there in the Range Rover.”

She forked her fingers into her hair, looking truly scared for the first time.

He went to his closet and took out the colorful ski hat with ear flaps his mother had given him last Christmas. Pulling off the tags, he said, “Can you get your hair in this?”

She looked from it to him. “Probably.”

“When you’re ready, bind it up and put on the hat. I need to talk to Rick and Noelle.”

Her hands shook when she took the hat, but she’d be okay. He went to the house and saw his parents’ luggage by the door. Celia looked up from reading to her grandkids. His dad stood at the great room window, one hand in a pocket that probably held a nine-millimeter automatic. Rick and Noelle came down the stairs, wearing matching expressions of concern.

Morgan drew a slow breath. “I just learned the guy hassling Erin is suspected in a couple homicides.” He repeated Anselm’s information. “For what it’s worth, I didn’t know until now. When the investigation turned up only fraud and embezzlement, I thought Erin might have overreacted. Not so.” He shook his head as a dark mood came on.

Hank frowned. “We should contact the sheriff.”

“Do it,” Morgan agreed. “But don’t say anything about me or our marriage. I want that quiet as long as possible.”

Noelle touched his arm. “Can’t they arrest him?”

“For what?” He turned to Rick. “Did you hear a threat?”

“No. But her place is trashed.”

“Did you see him do it?”

“It’s a good guess he did.”

Guessing was worth about that. “Get someone out there. Maybe they can find and question him, but that doesn’t help Erin get away.”

Noelle spread her hand. “So what are you going to do?”

“I’m going to draw Markham off.”

“You’re doing what?” his dad said.

“I have a plan. It includes Rudy’s shotgun.”

The three of them eyed him grimly, but no one argued.

Erin tried to look calm and brave when Morgan set Livie down and closed the cabin door.

“You remember what to do?”

She nodded.

“Drive slowly and carefully. If Markham’s out there, let him know it’s you.”

“Then why the hat?”

“You’ll see. Get the gas pumping, then go straight in to Rudy.”

She forced an even tone. “Okay.”

As she hurried through the blowing snow into the Maserati he’d left running, the tiny hairs on her neck rose. Could Markham see her? Every nerve pulled taut as she left Rick’s ranch on the one-lane road that only widened out near town. She passed Vera’s driveway about two thirds of the way down, a gravel ribbon walled by lodgepole pines. Did Markham lurk there?

Flesh creeping, she came to a stop at the intersection, then continued across the highway, parked at the pumps, and began to fuel. She hurried, heart hammering, over the roughly paved parking lot. Just before she entered, she slipped the wedding band off her finger and into her pocket. The fewer people outside Rick’s family who knew, the better.

Rudy met her inside the door with his shotgun and a rueful expression.

“Please don’t apologize. You didn’t know.” She hated that he felt bad in any way, hated that she’d dragged him and the others into her trouble. But with fear still twitching up her back, she said, “Could we wait behind the counter until Morgan gets here?”

“He’s not here?” He pressed his hands to his hips. “But that’s his car.”

“He has the other one.”

Rudy’s jaw fell slack. “He let you drive the Maserati?”

She should have recognized a shrine. Ducking past when he unlocked the hatch, she took in the relative shelter of the mostly glass counter. A barrier at least.

Beside her, Rudy smelled like a Slim Jim, and its long plastic sleeve clung to the side of the trash can. “You want to get down and hide?”

“Yes. But I think he’s supposed to see me.”

Rudy groaned. “He looked all right, a little slick maybe, but—”

Someone moved across the tinted storefront windows and came in the door. A jolt shot through her as she came face-to-face with the person she despised. Not a politician who’d done time, though he might have presented that way to Rick, but a maniacal holy man whose brains got too hot in the desert. He knew she saw through him and didn’t try to hide it.

“Hello, Quinn.” Malice marred the jovial tone he aped, matching the shadow in his eyes.

She raised her chin. “What are you doing here?”

“We need to talk.”

“That’s why you trashed my house and destroyed my things?” She felt Rudy stiffen.

Markham’s face settled into a cold stare. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Come out where we can discuss it.”

Rudy stirred. “She’s fine where she is.”

“Listen, you big goob—”

Rudy slid the gun from the shelf where he’d concealed it and held it across his hips.

“Are you kidding me?” Markham’s scorn came through every word.

“It’s loaded with buckshot. Won’t take down a bear, but human flesh is softer.”

Erin saw the Range Rover pull up to the pumps and said, “You need to leave.”

Eyes narrowed to slits, Markham hissed, “You bought a
Maserati
with my money.”

She almost denied it, then realized anything she said about Morgan would blow their cover. “That money belongs to the kingdom.”

“You used God’s money for a Maserati!”

At the sound of his piety, she couldn’t resist twisting the knife. “I have to get around somehow.”

He called her a name that would have withered the elders. Rudy raised the gun, still across his body but ready to point if Markham pushed it. “Time to move.”

“We’re not finished, Quinn
.
” In Markham’s mouth her name sounded as dirty as the other. Thank God she no longer used it.

After he stalked out, she drew up to her full five feet three inches. Since Morgan hadn’t come inside, she said, “Rudy, would you mind walking me to the door and standing there with the gun?”

“I’ll walk you there and use it.”

She swallowed a lump. “Thanks.”

He pushed the door open for her. “You be careful.”

She rose on tiptoe and kissed him on his broad cheek, which instantly flushed. “You too.”

Scanning for Markham, she hurried toward the pumps, startling when Morgan reached out the window of the Maserati and caught her arm. When she bent, he tugged the brightly colored hat from her head and put it on his own.

“Get in the Range Rover and stay down until I’m out of sight. Then head west.”

She did as he said, slouching so she barely peeked over the doorframe. Morgan peeled out, leaving the smell of burnt rubber and exhaust. Almost immediately, a white Tahoe she recognized by the cross decal on the back window tore out from behind the store. She pressed her hands to her mouth, staring until they disappeared.

“Where did Daddy go?” Livie’s plaintive query from the back seat brought her back to reality.

“He took the red car.”

“Why?”

“It’s faster.” And made a flashy decoy. She put the Range Rover in drive. The GPS came on, showing a preprogrammed route. Taking a deep breath, she looked over her shoulder. “Here we go, sweetie. Here we go.”

Slowing down for the Tahoe, Morgan took one of the routes leading to Rocky Mountain National Park. He kicked the accelerator, trying to maneuver as Erin might. A little jerkier, maybe, since she hadn’t been driving high-performance vehicles for years, as he had. He leaned on the wheel around a bend, laying some rubber.

In the rearview mirror, he watched Markham exit to follow him
and leave the way clear for Erin and Livie to stay on the Interstate. At the thought, a surge of fear caught his chest. Thinking of Livie could debilitate him. Concentrate on the road and the plan. Think about Erin. About Markham and the way he’d treated her, the threats, the vandalism. He thought of her courage, her temper, the way she stood up for herself and for him to his own mother. It almost brought a smile, until he remembered what happened next.

Just because he couldn’t give her what she wanted, didn’t mean he wouldn’t give her what he could—starting with escape from the trouble she’d gotten into. The slime bag Markham didn’t stand a chance—or did he?

His breath hitched as he took in the situation ahead—road closed for snow. No park admittance. He should have remembered that. The first mistake.

He pulled around the park station and stopped, hoping the structure would hide his vehicle until Markham likewise pulled up. It was his only chance of changing direction without Markham getting a clear view into the Maserati, but if he saw him waiting there, he could block him in.

He heard the other engine approaching and knew his own idle, though amazingly crafted to perform without excess noise, was not silent. Markham would be taking in the situation, wondering where the rabbit had run and if he’d missed a turn. The Tahoe slowed, passed the point where stopping sideways would block the road, inched forward, forward . . .

Morgan hit the gas. The tires squealed. With the small building between them, he screeched past and flew back in the direction he’d come, the Tahoe coming hard and heavy. Hard and heavy couldn’t match raw speed, but on these icy, snowy roads the other vehicle had him.