Colorado Manhunt: Wilderness Chase / Twin Pursuit

FIVE

The snowshoes were awkward, but Noah couldn’t deny they made better progress across the mountainside, through the trees and two-feet-deep snow, a whole lot faster with them than without. Both of them would have had wet pant legs, and they’d be even more cold now.

“Is that a car up ahead?”

He took a few more steps, trying to see what she’d been referring to. Despite the markings denoting it as a county sheriff’s vehicle, he said, “Wait here for a second.” Then he did a half walk, half run in snowshoes to the side of the highway, where a sheriff’s department vehicle waited.

Just the small SUV. No occupant.

“Okay.” He waved her over.

Tension sat like a knot in his stomach. Like a bad case of food poisoning.

They had to get help.

Noah’s whole body was covered in a sheen of sweat. He felt like he’d run his usual morning routine of six miles, but all of it uphill. He estimated they’d maybe walked three miles, if that. It felt so much farther with the extra exertion of wading through Colorado winter in snowshoes.

He blew out a breath. Amy came over to him. She was maybe a little winded but didn’t seem any worse for their…workout. That sounded a whole lot better than running for their lives.

“Where is the sheriff?”

Noah looked around. Then he walked across the hard-packed snow on the road to circle the SUV. The snowshoes didn’t help when the snow was matted down like ice, but if he took them off and more gunmen came, how would he get them back on? Mostly he figured he’d regret it if he took them off and he’d probably regret leaving them on.

Useful, but not exactly user-friendly.

Noah tugged on the driver’s door handle. “It’s unlocked.” He saw the state of the interior. “Not good.”

“What is it?”

He lifted a hand. “Stay over there.” He wanted her to have at least a chance of cover to hide behind, and she was closer to the trees on that side of the vehicle.

“What is it?” Her tone was different this time, heavy with a hint of what he’d seen when she’d opened her eyes. Right before she’d twisted out of the gunman’s arms. The determination inside her, not just to do the right thing but also to pull her weight. To treat this like a partnership, and not like he was the marshal and she was the witness.

Noah wouldn’t let anyone else make that shift. Amy? He trusted her. She did what he needed her to. She followed orders. She also showed him that vulnerable side he wanted to take care of.

“Noah.”

“There’s blood on the seat.”

“How much?”

She really wanted the answer to that? “Enough he’s light-headed, but hopefully still alive.”

She twisted around to look at the area. “Do you think he’s here somewhere, hurt?”

“Whoever injured him took the time to shut the door after they got him out of the SUV.”

“So they dragged him off and left him in the snow to bleed out and die? Or he was already dead?”

Was she angling for a job as a detective? “When we find him, or whoever hurt him, we can ask them.” He took a step back. If the sheriff—or whoever had shown up—left the vehicle bleeding, wouldn’t there be blood on the snow somewhere? He didn’t see any. Not losing blood meant the wound was either not bleeding now or had been staunched somehow. A stray drop would be here, surely.

The alternative was that the person had died before they were moved—no more blood flow to get on the snow.

He shook his head. Now he was doing exactly what he accused her of doing—trying to figure out what happened with no evidence.

Noah wandered to the far side of the empty highway. He looked for footprints. Probably more than one person had been out here. Where were they?

Behind him, he heard the other door to the SUV open. Heard Amy’s intake of breath. Exactly what he hadn’t wanted her to see, that visible evidence of injury. Something to trigger another panic attack.

She’d done well to keep it together so far. He didn’t want to be the cause of something she wouldn’t be able to fight off. A rush of emotion that would slow them down.

Then he spotted something.

“Over here!”

He called out before he even realized what he’d done. Noah rushed to the sheriff’s deputy’s side, landing awkwardly on his knees because of the snowshoes. “Can you hear me?”

He patted the man’s cheek, not looking at the blood on his shoulder. The law officer seemed to have passed out, his shoulder bundled up by his jacket. Why leave the vehicle, though? Walking off to pass out in the snow didn’t seem like a good idea.

He drew his gun. Then he grabbed the uniformed man’s good arm and hauled the man onto his back. Noah stood up from his crouch and faced Amy. “Get back to the SUV. Try to find some keys.”

He followed her, carrying the man over his shoulder. Teeth gritted. Each footstep a prayer that he wouldn’t trip over the edge of one of these shoe-things and fall.

She got in the front seat. “You think someone is here, like, watching?”

He hauled open the back door. “Maybe.” Then laid the uniformed man on the back seat. Noah didn’t figure his chances were good if they didn’t get him to a hospital, or whatever passed for one in this town, and quick.

The engine cranked. Coughed, then turned over. He ran around to the passenger door and got in.

Amy tossed her snowshoes on the floor in the back and then threw the SUV in Drive.

“Go.”

She hit the gas. “Where?”

Noah looked around. He’d expected someone to come out of the woods and murder them. Leaving the officer for them to find like that… It didn’t make any sense.

“You think that was a trap?”

He nodded. She saw it out the corner of her eye as she drove toward the medical center, which was thankfully on this end of town.

“You think he’ll be okay?”

“I hope so.”

She knew he wouldn’t like it if a law enforcement person was killed. Not when his job here was protection. She was the one he was supposed to be keeping safe—and alive—but she knew firsthand how they felt about collateral damage. And how deeply they reacted to the loss of what they’d refer to as “one of their own.”

“If it was a trap,” she said, “wouldn’t they have waited for us to show up?”

“I’d have thought so.”

“Or hurt him.” She jabbed at the back seat with her thumb. “And taken his car?” Except they hadn’t, and now she was the one driving it. None of this made sense.

“Maybe that was the plan, and then they got called away. Like to the cabin. Could be we crossed paths—or we would have if we hadn’t been cutting across the forest in these snowshoes.” He put his with hers, in the footwell of the back seat.

“How are we supposed to figure out what the answer is?”

He shifted and pulled the cell phone from his back pocket. “Still no signal.”

“It’ll be a minute until we get closer to town. Unless you have the one carrier that literally gets zero signal no matter where in town you are.”

“That would be disappointing.” He lifted the radio from the dash. Keyed the mic. “This is Deputy Marshal Trent. Is someone there?”

Static was his only reply.

“Something is going on, right?” She gripped the wheel, concentrating on driving in her lane and not freaking out. “I’m not crazy. There’s a whole bunch of cartel guys running around these woods all looking for me. And now it’s worse.”

He sounded like he was talking through gritted teeth when he said, “Now it’s worse.”

Great. Amy bit her lip and nudged her foot down on the gas pedal. No. That wasn’t going to be good. She eased off for the corner, half worried they would come up against some kind of roadblock. A group of cartel members waiting with their weapons, ready to kill her.

But there was no one around the corner.

They saw no cars on the road all the way to town. At the medical center, a single car had been parked at the far end of the parking lot. Amy drove all the way up to the front doors and jumped out.

“I’ll carry him. You get them to bring a bed out.”

She nodded and ran to the front doors, leaving the driver’s door open. She pushed on the door and nearly fell inside. “Help! We need help! The sheriff has been shot!” She didn’t know if that was true, but it was probably what’d happened. He could be a deputy.

A nurse ran out, wary-eyed but ready to help. Black scrubs and a short pixie cut. She was probably in her fifties and had the build of a woman who watched what she ate and worked on her feet all day—but still loved to treat herself to dessert. “Where is he?” Amy waved at the door. “We need a gurney, or a stretcher, or whatever it’s called.”

The woman grabbed a phone from the empty reception desk and hit one button. “Bring a bed.” She replaced the receiver.

Amy said, “Is something going on?”

Before the woman could answer, Noah strode in hauling the lawman over his shoulder again.

A male in blue scrubs pushed a bed down the hall. Noah laid the lawman down. “It’s just the two of you?”

The woman’s full attention was on the man on the bed. “That’s Deputy Higgins.”

“Let’s get him in the back so we can check him out.” The man was younger and looked more scared than any of them.

Amy took a step back.

Noah glanced at her. “What is it?”

“They’ll take care of him. We should get out of their hair.”

Noah looked at the woman. “What’s going on?”

She took a step back on her white sneakers. “Everything is fine. She’s right, be on your way.” The pointed look she gave Noah wasn’t lost on Amy. She wanted them gone.

Amy turned to the door. Whatever was happening here, these people would fare a whole lot better if she left. Maybe if she’d never come in the first place that would have been best. But this was where the marshals had placed her. It had seemed like a nice quiet town to put down roots in, so she hadn’t objected.

Her eyes filled as she pushed the front door open again.

“Hold up.” Noah caught up to her.

She squeezed her eyes shut as he angled her out of the way.

“I go first.”

“Right.” She tried not to let the conflicting emotions bleed through to her tone but was pretty sure he caught all of it. He could probably read her like no one else ever had.

She’d figured she was keeping her own counsel with her emotions her whole life. But maybe that wasn’t true. Maybe it was just that no one had cared to see what she really felt, below the surface. Until Noah.

He pushed outside and she heard the roar of an engine. Rotors. Amy followed him, wondering if it was state police. Or a TV news station reporting on the prison break, maybe.

Seconds later a helicopter flew overhead.

Time to run again?

Noah reached over and grabbed her hand. “Let’s go.”

SIX

“Looks like it set down over there.” Noah pointed out the windshield, then made a right turn.

“That’s the park area out front of city hall.”

“If it’s clear of trees there’s probably enough space to land.” He still didn’t like this, though. He had no phone signal. No way to tell if the occupants of that helicopter were friend or foe. One meant rescue, the other meant more running.

The marshals, or the cartel?

He turned a corner. On the sidewalk, an older woman wearing warm clothes and white sneakers hustled along. More than a power walk. She glanced behind her, then hurried down the street. Running away.

At the far end of this street, on the corner at the crosswalk, two men stood together in conversation. Both had dark hair and red-tipped ears from the cold. No gloves, black boots. The bottom half of their pant legs were wet.

Men from the woods. Possibly the same ones who had chased them. He didn’t know.

Noah kept driving. What else could he do? Then he saw a side street halfway down the block. He tapped the gas and took the turn faster than he should. At the last second he saw the men recognize them.

Noah gripped the wheel.

Amy twisted to look out the back window. “He got his phone out.”

“They’ll be calling in a sighting of us. Are they following?”

“I don’t think so.” Her voice still shook. That quaver of fear he didn’t like.

It might be realistic to be scared, and he wasn’t going to tell her not to be. Still, Noah would rather Amy were somewhere safe by now. Or that she’d never gotten into this situation in the first place.

But that would be impossible. Life was about choices, and she’d done the right thing. It had cost the life of her nephew, but she was moving on. Trying to get free.

He wanted to be there to the end, if he could.

If she would let him be part of the happy ending of her story.

“We need to ditch this car.”

Amy said nothing. Noah pulled into someone’s driveway. The sheriff’s department probably had GPS on all their vehicles. If he and Amy were going to get out of here, then they needed a way to do that without being tracked.

He pulled up the emergency brake and shut the engine off, leaving the keys inside. “Come on.”

They hopped out, and he shifted places with her so he could hold her right hand and have his gun in his right hand. He wanted her with him. Connected. And he wanted to be able to defend them both.

“Seems weirdly quiet,” she commented as they turned onto the sidewalk.

“Empty.” No one was outside, apart from that older lady he’d seen running from the two men.

Across the street Noah saw the slats of a blind in someone’s front window snap shut. They were being watched? Or whoever it was wanted to make sure they stayed out of sight.

“This feels weird.”

Noah squeezed her hand for a second to try and impart some reassurance in her. Hopefully it worked. But until they were actually out of here, neither of them was going to relax.

“It’s up here?” He pointed with their joined hands.

Amy nodded. “To the right.”

“Okay.” He didn’t want to go out into a common area if they were going to be exposed, so he slowed at the end of the street.

Then he checked behind them. No one had followed. He crouched and looked around the corner. Please be the marshals.

The helicopter rotors had powered down. A group of men milled around. Noah drew his phone and took pictures of them, trying to zoom in far enough to make out…

That was the cartel’s number two.

His stomach dropped. “It’s not help.”

They needed to get out of here, and fast. Too many men. They were outnumbered, and outgunned. Noah would love to arrest that guy right now. Take him in. Get all the respect and accolades for bringing down a key player in the cartel, one they’d never been able to pin down. A man on the FBI’s Most Wanted list.

Now he was here. Surrounded by foot soldiers all looking for Amy.

“Who is…?”

Behind the cartel number two, another man climbed from the helicopter. Jeremiah Sanders. Amy’s brother.

Noah shifted. “We have to go.”

The street was still empty. They needed a car. A way out of town.

“What—”

He cut her off. “It’s not help. It’s more of their guys.” He tugged her back down the sidewalk. Should he tell her?

“Noah.”

She knew. “Your brother is here.” Amy said nothing. “I don’t want to be standing around when they spot us.”

She nodded, her face flushed. Her hair was disheveled. “Okay.”

He picked up the pace and they started to run. But where? Aside from that sheriff’s department vehicle, how were they supposed to get out of town to a safe place? He wasn’t about to steal someone’s car. Help appeared to be limited.

It was like the whole town had been put on lockdown and every resident confined to their homes. Which was good, as it helped them to avoid collateral damage when bullets started flying. Who wanted an innocent caught in the cross fire?

But the eerie quiet was bizarre enough it caused a niggling feeling in him. How were they supposed to get out? Her brother and all his cartel buddies were here. Jeremiah had escaped prison for the express purpose of flushing out Amy so he could get revenge.

Amy squeezed his hand. “Jeremiah is really—”

A man turned the corner at the street where they’d left the car.

“—here?”

There was no time to answer her question. He shoved her across the street. “Go!”

Noah raced with her to the far side of a car parked on the street. She crouched behind it as the first bullet flew at them. Then he crouched and returned fire over the hood of the car.

Jeremiah was here.

Amy resisted the urge to clap her hands over her ears and pretend she was anywhere but here. It might work for a toddler trying to hide from the world, but she was a grown woman.

She slid the gun from the back of her waistband and crawled to the rear of the car. If the gunman came into view, and there was anything she could do, then she would absolutely defend herself. But Noah was a marshal. He was the federal agent here, and she wasn’t.

He would probably never forgive her if she put herself in danger.

The man was out of sight. Noah fired again. She heard the cartel guy grunt as one of the bullets Noah had fired struck him. She didn’t want to be glad for someone getting hurt, even if it was a criminal, but there was nothing else they could do. These people were trying to kidnap or kill her. Right now they were like a swarm of ants crawling over a summer picnic.

She bit back a whimper and crawled close to Noah. Over his shoulder she saw two men round the corner. “More of them are coming.”

He looked. “And they’re bringing friends with them.”

Amy got ready to run when he told her to. She’d never anticipated wanting to leave this town as badly as she did right now. In fact, she had thought she would live here the rest of her life, hiding from her brother and his friends.

She looked over. Two men ran up behind the first two. They tackled them from behind. Shoved them to the ground and hit them with what she realized were baseball bats. Amy winced. Locals? But whether they were or not, Amy didn’t want to hide behind this car forever. She was exposed in the street. Out here, waiting for someone to pick her off.

She spun, aiming the gun around her just in case more people ran up from another direction. The two men who had tackled the gunmen advanced on them next. The first one started to close in on her and Noah saw the star badge on his belt.

“Marshal?” The man then eyed her. “Is this business all about you?” Instead of answering him, Noah said, “We need a car.” He stood up, keeping her behind him. Making it clear she was under his protection. “Then we’ll be on our way, and you can have your town back.”

The man eyed him and Amy. “Or we can turn you two over to them and it’ll be done a whole lot faster.”

She didn’t like the sound of that. Nor did she like the look in his eyes. “We’re leaving.” She put all the confidence and bravery she didn’t feel in her voice. It didn’t matter what they tried. They weren’t the thing she feared.