If You See Her (41 page)

Ankle holster. How … clichéd. And convenient.

Still kneeling, he pointed it at Joe. Aimed. Watched as the man’s eyes went wide.

Fired.

Joe slumped over backward. As the body hit the floor, he turned and put the gun into the sheriff’s hand and squeezed again, one single shot that went into the wall. There—that should do it.

Carefully avoiding the blood on the floor, he moved closer and stared at the body.

Yes. Joseph Carson was dead. Now that all of that was dealt with, he put Joe’s weapon back in his hand, pulled him to a half sitting position, fired off a few random shots. It wasn’t perfect.

But there were no witnesses.

None … because Hope was still silent, motionless.

He paused long enough to tug his mask down and
then he moved to stand over her body. So very still. So very quiet.

He hoped she wasn’t too hurt. Hoped she lived.

Would be a shame for her to die now. After all, her ex-husband was dead now … and he couldn’t haunt her anymore.

She could find that peaceful, happy life of hers now. Before he left, he reached into the pocket of his jacket, tugged out a wallet and a pretty little gold watch.

It had belonged to his last girl. Jolene Hollister. Even had a
J H
engraved on the back. Jolene. The start of all this mess.

The start … and it seemed fitting to leave it here, where he had ended it. Inside the wallet was a picture of Jolene and her pretty cousin. He left the wallet and the watch tucked in with Joe’s things, but the picture … that, he wanted found on Joe.

It took some doing to tuck it into Joe’s pocket without stepping in the blood, but he managed. If it fell out, it could be assumed it had done so while Joe fought to stop the bleeding.

Everybody would think that he’d tried to get one last shot off. It would be muzzled and hazy, yes. But he’d done a better job staging
this
scene, he figured. Learned from his mistakes.

He slid back outside, losing himself in the deepening shadows. The shots had been heard.

Before he joined the rest of the search team, he used the wipes from his pack, made sure his hands were clean. Stowed his gun, the mask. There … none would be the wiser.

Just as he fell into step beside a couple of deputies, thunder rumbled through the skies overhead. He smiled.

Rain.

He loved a good thunderstorm.

“What are we doing out here?”

Remy half-tuned the person out. But another part of him wondered the same thing. The sheriff had sent search teams crawling off all over the county, but why here?

Zeke Mulroney—one of the volunteer firemen and Sergeant Keith Jennings’s cousin, sighed and shoved a hand through his hair, glanced at his cousin. “You buzz the sheriff again? Ask him what we’re searching for?”

Keith grunted. “We already know what.” There was an odd look in his eyes as he said it, but he didn’t elaborate other than to add, “We keep looking until we find her.”

“Yeah, but not why
here
,” Zeke mumbled. But he sighed, and the men studied the map. “I’ll cover this spot. You with me, cuz?”

“Yeah. We can split up, cover a wide area once we get there. Remy?”

“I’ll hit this one,” Remy said, his voice strained and tight.

Behind him, Reilly and Ezra shared a look. “We’re with Remy,” Ezra said.

The rest of the men split up the area, going in groups of two or three, agreeing to meet back up in another few hours, keeping in contact through radio. Cell phones were useless out here.

Remy tried not to let a rush of hopeless anger swamp him. They were wasting
time
 … he needed to be on a plane to Clinton, Oklahoma—so he’d be there waiting when that bastard arrived. He was trying to take her back home. That’s what he needed to be doing …

But what if he was wrong?

The men split up, but not a one of them had gone more than fifteen yards when a shot tore through the
silence. A few seconds later, there was another. Another … another.

The sound of gunfire in the rural area surrounding Ash wasn’t unusual.

Hell, Remy knew how to fire a gun and once in a while, he could even be talked into going hunting with his brother … or back before his brother had gotten so lost in his grief.

The sound of a shot being fired hadn’t ever turned his blood to ice before. Not until that cool night with the thunderheads piling up in the distance, turning the already dim woods into an endless, dank twilight. Taking off through the woods, ignoring Ezra, ignoring Reilly, ignoring the deputies who tried to reach out and grab him.

Nothing mattered. Nothing but Hope and in his gut, he knew … he
knew
 … those shots weren’t some guys out hunting, and he knew it wasn’t some kids out being stupid.

Hope.

His gut was nothing but ice and knots, and he couldn’t think, couldn’t speak.

All he could do was hope … and pray.

Please God …

And he couldn’t even manage anything more than that.

Just
Please God …

He ran for what felt like forever.

After ever.

Forever
—the moments were endless, but he had no idea how much time had passed before he came across the cabin. He didn’t know who owned it.

Some of the forested areas around Ash were owned by the state and some were private property. He hadn’t seen this cabin before, but it didn’t matter. Hope was in there—in his gut, he knew it. That was all that counted.

He lunged for the door, but just before he reached it, hard, strong hands caught him, restrained him. “Stop it,” Ezra growled in his ear. “Just stop—wait. Let the deputies do their fucking job and check—you go tearing in there, you can get her killed.”

Remy struggled, trying to tear away from Ezra, even though, logically, he knew the guy was right.

Hope was in there … Hope—
fuck
.

“Just give them a few minutes,” Ezra said. “Just wait.”

“Could you?” Remy snarled. “If it was Lena? Could you?”

“Yeah. I’d hate it and I’d need somebody to do the same damn thing I’m doing, probably, but if I knew it was the only thing that might save her life? Yeah. Now just wait …”

If the run to the cabin had seemed to take forever, if the entire day had dragged on endlessly, it was nothing like those long, eternal seconds it took for the deputies to move to peer through the windows, their feet almost soundless even though the ground was littered with damp leaves and broken twigs.

Tense, silent moments ticked away.

“Oh, fuck …” Keith muttered.

As he lunged for the door, Remy’s heart stopped beating.

For those few moments, his entire world went dark. Then, with a sudden jerk, he tore away from Ezra.

No.

Fucking hell,
no
.

He’d just found her, damn it. Just got her and … no.

He shouldered past the deputies, not giving a fuck that they’d tried to stop him, not caring about anything but getting inside that damn cabin …

She was there.

Lying in a crumpled heap on the floor.

Pale.

Blood spread out from her head in a dark, dark pool. Déjà vu rippled through him and for a moment, he thought for sure he’d see blood seeping from her wrists.

Not caring about the blood, or anything else, he ran to her and just as he knelt by her side, she groaned, and the thick, black fringe of her lashes fluttered.

Once more, his heart started to beat.

Oh, shit.

“Hope.”

She sighed. Without even opening her eyes, a faint smile curled her lips. “Remy …” Then she looked up at him. “You came for me.”

Gently, he slid his arms under her, pulling her against him. “Damn straight. God, baby, are you okay?”

Her fingers curled into his shirt. “Am now. I … he wanted me to write you a letter. Say I was leaving. Leaving
you
. Wouldn’t do it. He couldn’t make me do it, Remy. Couldn’t make me …”

“Shhh.” He stroked his free hand over her, searching for injuries. The arm he had under her neck felt sticky from the blood and as he gently probed her skull, he felt the edges of a jagged, open wound. Long and shallow. “You hit your head again, baby. You need to quit doing that.”

“Okay. He couldn’t make me write the letter. Wouldn’t do it. Not leaving. I’m not leaving you. Not ever …”

Those words reached inside his heart, wrapped a fist around it.

Pressing a kiss to her brow, he murmured, “I hope to hell you remember that. I plan on holding you to it.”

Then he closed his eyes.
Thank God
.

All around him, he heard voices buzzing, radios crackling, and he knew Reilly was kneeling just a few
feet away and he needed to let the guy see Hope for a second.

But not just yet. A few more seconds.

Just a few more seconds so he could really start to believe he hadn’t lost her right after he’d just found her.

L
ONG AFTER
R
EMY AND
R
EILLY HAD CLIMBED INTO
the ambulance with Hope, Ezra remained at the cabin. He stood at Keith Jennings’s side, along with the deputy sheriff, a quiet man by the name of Steven Mabry. Together, the three of them stared down at Nielson’s body, and Ezra tried to wrap his brain around what he was seeing.

The guy was dead.

“Why was he out here alone?” Ezra asked.

“We were meeting up. He didn’t think this was going to be worth the time it would take to get another deputy out there. I guess he didn’t want to pull anybody away from the rest of the search area. I lost radio contact with him about twenty minutes before we heard the shots,” Keith said, keeping his voice quiet. “He told me he was following a hunch, to come out here. Looks like he was right.”

“Guess he was right.” Mabry sighed and shook his head. “I don’t believe this.”

The sheriff had indeed been right—it had cost him his life … and probably saved Hope’s life. “Who owns this cabin?”

Jennings sighed, reached up and rubbed the back of
his neck. “Shit. If I’m remembering right, it belongs to Deb Sparks’s kids. Their daddy bought it and left it to them when he died. She always hated the place. The guys use it some, not a whole lot.”

Ezra glanced around, eyed the neatly made bed, the obvious lack of dust. “Somebody’s been out here fairly recently. And often.”

“Yeah.” Mabry knelt by Carson’s corpse and eyed him. “I’m thinking maybe he was squatting out here. If he’s been wanting to keep an eye on his ex-wife, but not be seen … well, here’s a good place for it.”

Ezra blew out a breath, thinking about the night Brody Jennings had seen somebody in the woods near Reilly’s place. “How close you think we are to Reilly’s?”

“Oh, it would take awhile to drive. But cutting through the woods? Maybe a forty-five-minute hike. Even less if you’re in good shape and know the way.”

“Mabry?”

Ezra glanced up as one of the other deputies called over from across the room.

“Yeah?”

“You need to come see this.”

Mabry grimaced as he stood. “Shit. I’m not the fucking sheriff.”

Ezra looked at the still body near his feet. No. The sheriff was dead. He and Jennings watched as Mabry made his way over to the other deputies. “He doesn’t want to be the sheriff, but he’s stuck with it now,” Ezra said, keeping his voice low.

“Yeah.” Keith glanced down at Nielson. “Damn it.”

A voice muttered in the back of his brain, but he shoved it aside. Ezra couldn’t think about that right now. He tried to push all the pieces into line, tried to make them fit—but they weren’t lining up. At least, they weren’t lining up the way he wanted them to.

“Well, shit.”

There was enough heat and shock in Mabry’s words to cut through Ezra’s musings and he turned, made his way over there, taking care with his leg. It hurt like a bitch after trampling around through the woods all day. He wanted a beer, a bed, and Lena something awful.

There was something in his pocket that he’d planned on giving her earlier, and now those plans … well. Hell. He’d had all sorts of plans. Roses. Champagne, even.

Then this happened.

He came to a stop by the bed and stared down, eyeing what the younger deputy held in his gloved hands—a picture. Bloodied and wrinkled. He held it gingerly, by one corner.

“Wonder who this is,” the deputy muttered.

“Can I see that?” Keith said, holding out a gloved hand. As the other deputy turned it over, Ezra moved around to study the picture. There were two women—a striking woman of mixed race—he didn’t know her. But the other woman … yeah. He knew who she was. He’d never forget her face. Ever.

Swallowing, he said, “That’s Jolene Hollister, I think. Jennings?”

Keith sighed. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m pretty sure it is.”

“There’s a wallet over here, Mabry,” one of the other deputies called out.

Ezra met Jennings’s gaze and after the picture was bagged, they moved across the cabin to the deputy sheriff’s side. Tucked inside Joe’s things, the little pink leather wallet stood out like a red thumb.