Chapter Fifteen

Friday morning, Deputy Jamie Douglas glanced at the woman next to her as they waited for the elevator that would take them to the basement-level holding cells. "Do you really think this will work?" she asked.

Adelaide Kinkaid, the sheriff's department's office manager, looked down at the cardboard tray containing two cups of coffee and a cinnamon roll. "I think it's worth a try. I'm good at getting people to confide in me. If they don't know me well, they assume I'm a harmless old woman."

She grinned and Jamie suppressed a laugh. Even though she was in her sixties, Adelaide never acted old, and she had a well-deserved reputation of knowing almost anything worth knowing about the goings-on in town, from the details of coming events to idle gossip. If anyone could get the information they needed, it would be her.

They rode the elevator down and passed through two sets of locked doors to the booking area and the two small holding cells, only one of which was occupied. Kim Vernon looked up at their approach. "It looks like you're going to be with us a little longer," Jamie said. "We're waiting for room to open up at the jail in Junction."

"I brought you some breakfast." Adelaide held up the tray. "And some company, if you're interested."

Kim stood and moved to the bars of the cell. "Who are you?"

"Adelaide Kinkaid. I'm a civilian who handles clerical work here at the station." She pulled a chair up to the bars and sat. "I heard about what happened to you and well, I've got a daughter about your age and a granddaughter Charlotte's age. I figure you must be beside yourself, being separated from her like this." She pushed the coffee cup through the opening of the bars. "I've got cream and sugar here if you want. And a cinnamon roll."

"Just cream, thanks." Kim accepted the little tub of cream and the roll, and settled on the end of the bunk, still eyeing the two women warily. Her intake sheet said she was twenty-nine, but she looked older, like someone who hadn't lived an easy life. What makeup she had put on at some point was mostly smeared off or collected in the creases around her eyes, and dark roots two inches long showed along the part of her hair. She was thin—almost bony—and dressed in a T-shirt and elastic-waist shorts.

"I have to stay here because Adelaide is a civilian," Jamie said. "But I feel for you. I've got a little girl, too. I just came back to work after my maternity leave and it's hard enough being away from her during my shift. I can't imagine being forced to leave her the way you were. And not knowing where she is."

Kim sipped coffee. "I'm sure Mick won't hurt her," she said. "He just has a bad temper, sometimes. And I forget myself and annoy him. He'll get over it. He always does."

"I couldn't help noticing the bruises on your arm." Adelaide nodded to the purpling patches showing below the sleeve of Kim's T-shirt. "Did Mick do that?"

Kim covered the bruises with her hand. "He would never lay a hand on Charlotte," she said. Jamie's stomach clenched as she read the doubt in the other woman's eyes. They really needed to find Charlotte, and if it took pretending to be friendly to the woman who had put her in danger in the first place, Jamie was willing to do it.

"Still, he isn't her real parent," Adelaide said. "You are. A little girl needs her mother."

"That's what I keep telling these cops." Kim sat up a little straighter. "They act like I'm some kind of criminal for wanting to take care of my little girl."

"Charlotte is such a beautiful child," Jamie said. That, at least, wasn't a lie.

Kim smiled. "She is. A lot of people say she favors me."

"Yes, I can see that," Adelaide said. "I know a lot of people are out looking for her. I hope they find her soon. I'm sure she really misses you."

"She was crying when Mick pushed me out of the Jeep," Kim said. She blinked rapidly, her eyes shiny.

"That wasn't right of him," Adelaide said. "Especially when all you wanted was to take care of your little girl."

"I know." Kim pinched a piece from the cinnamon roll, but didn't eat it.

"Where do you think he went?" Adelaide asked. "I mean, do you think he came back to try to find you after you got a ride from that guy in the Jeep? Or did he go back to your camp?"

"We were moving to a new place," Kim said. "But I don't know where we were going."

"He didn't even tell you that?" Adelaide looked disapproving. "Men. They don't really know how to communicate, do they?"

Kim laughed. "Isn't that the truth? I have to ask twenty questions to get anything out of Mick. It makes him so angry sometimes, but if he would just tell me what's going on in the first place it would save us all so much trouble."

"So he never said where this new camp was?" Adelaide asked.

Kim ate the piece of cinnamon roll and chewed thoroughly before she said, "Even if he had, I wouldn't have recognized the name. I'm not from around here."

"There are a lot of old mines up in that area," Adelaide said. "I haven't driven up there in a while, but I remember some of them even had buildings on them—little cabins that almost looked like you could move right in."

Kim nodded. "That's what we were looking for. Some place we could settle down and make a home. You know, live off-grid. We didn't want to bother anybody. We thought we had found a place, but after one night there we realized it was too close to popular Jeep roads. People were up there all the time. We couldn't have that. I mean, we were looking for peace and quiet, where we could get away from everybody."

"So I guess you decided to head farther into the mountains, away from the popular trails," Adelaide said.

"Exactly. Mick said he had found a new place on the map. It had three almost-complete cabins we could choose from. There was water nearby, and it was open, so we could add solar panels and maybe even have a little garden in the future. It sounded like just what we were looking for."

Jamie made a mental note of this. This could help narrow the search, even if Kim didn't come up with a name.

"You didn't worry about hikers interfering with you?" Adelaide asked. "People always want to poke around those old mine ruins."

"Mick had that all figured out," Kim said. "He said the road up to this place was really narrow and not used much, but after we got up there he would trigger a rockslide over the trail so no one could follow."

"Wouldn't that mean you would be trapped, too?" Jamie asked.

"He said he could drive over or around the rockslide. Most people wouldn't attempt it, but he could do it." Kim frowned. "He takes a lot of risks, driving. It scares me sometimes, but he always gets where he needs to go."

"That does sound like the ideal place to get away from it all," Adelaide said. "I wonder which mine that is."

"He may have said the name but I don't remember," Kim said. "Maybe something with a number in it?" She wrinkled her nose. "I'm not sure I have that right. I was trying to get Charlotte to eat her breakfast and I wasn't paying much attention. That was what set Mick off, actually. He didn't like me paying more attention to Charlotte than to him."

"Of course your daughter had to come first," Adelaide said.

"If they had more woman cops, maybe I wouldn't be in this cell," Kim said. "Men just don't understand."

Adelaide stood. "It was nice chatting with you. I'd better get to work now."

"I'll let you know when Junction is ready for your transfer," Jamie said.

Neither woman said anything until they were in the elevator again. "Do you think we can find that mine she was talking about?" Jamie asked.

"The sheriff has a map of the mining district with all the old claims marked on it," Adelaide said. "She gave us a pretty good description, with those three cabins and water nearby."

"Mick might not even have gone there," Jamie said.

"He might not. But this is the best lead I've heard of, so it's definitely worth sending someone up there to check it out." Smiling, Adelaide led the way out of the elevator. She pulled out her phone and hit speed dial. "Sheriff? Jamie and I have been talking to Kim Vernon. She told us some things you need to hear."

G ETTING BACK TO the road proved more difficult than Ryker had anticipated. Though he was sure they were traveling in the right direction, they repeatedly encountered obstacles that prevented them from moving in anything close to a straight line—a deep gully, an abrupt drop-off, or a soaring cliff face they weren't equipped to scale. Harper didn't say anything, but her silence and exhausted expression made him feel guilty once more for putting her through all of this.

Charlotte grew increasingly fussy. She didn't want to be carried, but when allowed to walk, would sit down and refuse to go any farther. She burst into tears more than once, and Ryker felt her frustration.

The sun was setting when Harper suggested they stop and make camp. "Walking around in the dark is too dangerous," she pointed out. "Better to build a campfire and settle in for the night. We'll do better if we start fresh in the morning."

By himself, Ryker probably would have pressed on, but one look at his daughter's tearstained face and Harper's sagging shoulders convinced him she was right.

Harper chose the campsite in an area sheltered by a large boulder on one side and a clump of brush on the other. "I took a class as part of my search and rescue training on how to build a makeshift camp," she said as she picked up fallen limbs and moved rocks to clear an area for them to settle in. "When we go out on a search or respond to assist someone injured in the wilderness, we might have to spend the night out." She slipped off her pack and removed two small packets. "These are emergency bivy bags," she said, turning the packet so that he could read the label, which showed a person inside a bright orange sleeping bag cinched around his body. "I only have two, but Charlotte will probably do better tucked up with one of us."

"What else do you have?" Charlotte knelt on the ground beside the pack and watched as Harper pulled out more items.

"I have a water filter, a first aid kit, a whistle and fire-starting materials." Harper laid these items out alongside her pack. Charlotte picked up the water filter and examined it. "Also a mirror that can be used to signal someone, an aluminum splint, another candy bar, some nuts, packets of drink mix, extra socks, a collapsible metal cup and a multi-tool."

Charlotte focused on the small pile of food. "I'm hungry," she announced.

"I still have one sandwich, one apple and a couple of protein bars in my pack," Ryker said. "And one of those space blanket things."

"Great," Harper said. "We should be able to get pretty comfortable. Let's start with a fire, then we'll pull together a picnic supper."

Charlotte pitched in to help collect tinder and smaller pieces of wood for their campfire. "I watched Mama and Mick build fires," she said, and dropped a handful of pine needles in the middle of the rock circle Harper had constructed as a fire ring.

Ryker soon had a fire going, and Harper spread the space blanket and the two bivy bags along one side of the fire. They sat on them and she divided their food, giving each of them a portion of sandwich, nuts, apple and candy. "We'll save the protein bars for breakfast," she said. Then she mixed some of the powdered drink mix in the metal cup and passed it to Charlotte. "It's not a lot of food, but it's pretty well balanced, nutritionally."

Ryker bit off half his share of the candy bar and chewed.

"Daddy, you're not supposed to eat the candy first," Charlotte said. She was nibbling one corner of her quarter sandwich.

"I'm not too worried it's going to spoil my appetite," he said. He could have eaten three sandwiches after all the hiking he had done today.

Charlotte giggled. He hadn't meant to be funny, but hearing her sound so happy and normal lifted his spirits.

They finished eating and Charlotte settled beside Ryker. The light faded, sending them deeper and deeper in shadow, until he realized he could make out little beyond the circle of their fire. Charlotte lay down and was soon sleeping. He folded one side of the space blanket over her.

Harper moved closer. "Tomorrow we'll get to the road," she said. "And if we don't, maybe we'll see a plane. There's bound to be some aerial searches by now."

"I shouldn't have set out to find her on my own," he said. "I should have urged the sheriff to look here. If you hadn't been there to stop Mick..."

"Don't!" She clutched his arm. "You did what you did with the best of intentions. You wanted to find Charlotte. And it worked out. One night out here isn't going to hurt any of us."

He looked down at his sleeping daughter. She was curled on her side against him, breathing evenly. She was dirty, her clothes ragged and her hair tangled, but she didn't appear traumatized by what had happened. "I didn't want to leave Mick," he said. "But getting Charlotte to safety was more important."

"You disabled his car. He's not going to be able to get far."

"You're right. I guess I'm just a worrier." He blew out a breath. "Maybe it comes with being a cop. You know all the ways a situation can go bad."

"And you became a parent. I think that probably makes you worry more. Children are so vulnerable."

He turned to study her, the side of her face visible in the flickering light from the fire. "What happened with our baby?" he asked. "I never knew, exactly. That is, if you don't mind talking about it."

"I don't mind." She stared into the fire for a moment, then said, "I was six months pregnant. I felt huge and awkward, and really tired sometimes, but I was getting excited, too. My aunt, who I was living with, talked a lot about putting the baby up for adoption, but I didn't think I wanted to do that." She looked at him, then away. "I had this fantasy that I would have the baby, get back home to Eagle Mountain and find you, and you would insist that we be together. A real family. I didn't think my parents would be able to keep you away from your daughter, which meant they couldn't keep you away from me, either."

"I thought about getting on my motorcycle and going to Florida to look for you, but I worried you wouldn't be happy to see me. Maybe you agreed to leave because you believed I really had hurt Aiden."

"No!" She gripped his arm. "Leaving you was awful, but it was even worse because you were going through such a terrible thing alone."

"Not exactly alone. My parents stood by me, and there were other people." He covered her hand with his own. "But you were the one I wanted."

"My parents made me leave," she said. "My mom said we were going to see friends. She put me in the car and the next thing I knew, we were at the airport. I pitched such a fit, and I didn't calm down until my mom told me we were just going to Florida for a few days to see my aunt. She pitched it as a chance for me to get away and decide what I wanted to do with my life. It wasn't until the next day that I realized they weren't going to let me come home until after the baby was born. And they refused to let me get in touch with you. My aunt watched me like a jailer. She didn't let me have a phone or go online. After a while I just stopped trying. And after I lost the baby, I was too sad to come back. I was so angry with my parents, and I felt guilty and confused." She shook her head. "When I did finally get back to Eagle Mountain..."

"I wasn't here. It didn't seem worth hanging around without you here," he said. "And even after the sheriff said I wasn't a suspect in Aiden's death, there were still people who believed I must have been involved. Going somewhere else to school was a chance to make a fresh start. But I never forgot about you."

"I never forgot about you, either." She blew out a breath. "Anyway, I don't really know what happened with the baby. One day I was fine. The next day I felt really tired and kind of queasy, but I didn't think anything of it. I woke up in the middle of the night and I knew that something wasn't right. I was cramping and bleeding. I screamed for my aunt and it took her a while to calm me down. She took me to the hospital but before we even got there I knew it was too late. The doctor said I had miscarried. He didn't know why. He just said sometimes these things happen."

He slipped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. "I'm sorry," he said. "I used to think about you and the baby. I didn't know if it was a boy or girl. The idea of being someone's father was scary. But I liked it, too. I wanted the chance to do the right thing. To be a good dad."

"You're a good dad to Charlotte."

"I try. But it's hard not to make mistakes. And I worry about her not having a mother. My mom does her best, but it's not the same. I would never have intentionally kept Kim out of her life. If she had come to me and said she wanted visitation, or even shared custody, I would have tried to work something out. I want what's best for Charlotte. But now—now I could never trust Kim. And I don't want Mick having anything to do with my kid."

"Will Kim go to jail?" she asked.

"Probably. That's not for me to decide. I'll do my best to see that Mick serves time, for threatening us with that axe, and then shooting at us. And if I find out he laid a hand on Charlotte..." Anger closed his throat, so that he couldn't finish the sentence.

Harper rubbed his back, a soothing gesture. He became aware of the heat and pressure of her hand, and her soft curves pressed against his side. "Do you remember the time we hiked up on Dakota Ridge?" she asked.

Heat flooded him at the memory. "It's not the hiking I remember," he said.

She laughed, a throaty, sexy sound. "It felt so daring to sneak back into the woods like that and make love outdoors," she said. "So exciting."

"I was worried you'd think it was too risky," he said. "Or that you wouldn't be comfortable out in the open like that."

"I was a little nervous," she admitted. "But I was with you. That was all that really mattered." She turned her face to his and he kissed her, as if more than ten years hadn't passed since that afternoon in the woods. Her lips were as soft as he remembered, and she still felt just as tantalizing pressed against him. She shifted to face him, and slid her arms around his waist. He deepened the kiss, her mouth hot. Needy. Her breasts beneath his palms were fuller than they had been then, but his own response was as urgent as ever—that feeling of wanting so much, balanced on the edge of control.

A whimper beside them reminded him they were not alone. Harper pulled back. "Charlotte needs you," she said, and looked away.

He turned to his daughter. She was still sleeping, but more restless now, whimpering and tossing her head. He laid a hand on her side. "It's okay, honey," he said. "I'm right here."

Charlotte didn't open her eyes, but she settled. "Probably just a bad dream," Harper whispered.

He looked up and met her gaze, the reflection of the campfire sparking gold in her brown eyes. She smiled, a hint of regret in the expression. "We should try to get some sleep," she said. "We have a big day tomorrow."

She turned away and crawled into one of the bivy bags, then lay with her back to him. Tomorrow he hoped they would be home and safe. And then what? What would happen to him and Harper? Could they try again to regain what they had lost, or had too much time passed and too many things happened for that to ever be possible?