All he could think about was Christine.

The blast had tossed her sideways and now she lay motionless, forty feet from the burning car.

She wasn’t moving. He ran. He dove to the ground beside her and felt for a pulse at her neck.

She was alive.

With his hand still cupping her cheek, he leaned closer. She looked so pale and lifeless. “Christine, can you hear me?”

No response.

He lifted her. She was like a rag doll in his arms. Holding Christine close to his chest, he ran across the lot toward the sidewalk. Without slowing his pace, he crossed the street, grateful that the hospital was clearly marked.

Christine moaned. She opened her eyes. Her gaze was unfocused.

Still running and out of breath, Wyatt looked down at her. He could lose her. So much had gone unsaid between them. “Just for the record—” he gasped for air “—I did love you. I just didn’t know how to say it.”

Broken Trust

Sharon Dunn

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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Commit your way to the Lord;

trust in him and he will do this: He will make your

righteousness shine like the dawn, the justice of

your cause like the noonday sun.

—Psalms 37:5–6

For my children who inspire and challenge me

to be a better person

ONE

Commit your way to the Lord; trust in Him and He will do this: He will make your righteousness shine like the dawn, the justice of your cause like the noonday sun.

Psalm 37: 5–6

Special Agent Wyatt Green knew he was in trouble even before he felt the bone in his arm crack. Unexpected high winds had caused the helicopter he was supposed to drop out of to pitch to one side.

When he was almost down the rope, he’d lost his grip, twisted in the air and held his hands out to brace his fall. The impact with the ground sent shivers of pain up both his arms, but there was no mistaking that splintering of bone. He suspected a fractured forearm. As he rose to his feet, he told himself it wasn’t that bad. He’d broken bones clean through, and the pain from that was even more mind-numbing. He’d completed assignments with injuries before, and he could do it again.

As the helicopter disappeared into the night sky and the thrum of the motor became more distant, Wyatt gritted his teeth against the pain and got his bearings. The badlands of eastern Montana looked just as remote and foreboding at night as they did in the daytime. Ten years ago, he and a team of agents had descended on this same area for a standoff with a landowner who appeared to be amassing an army to help him carry out his domestic terrorist philosophy.

A pain more intense than the fracture jabbed at his heart. Ten years ago, Agent Christine Norris, barely out of the academy, had walked away from a career to marry a rancher in this area. She’d also walked away from him. A flash of memory, Christine’s easy laugh and soft brown eyes, caused him to lose focus. He shook off the emotional ache, adjusted his backpack, checked his coordinates and headed toward where Christine and Dustin’s farmhouse was supposed to be.

Ignoring the pain in his arm, he jogged at a steady pace along the dirt road. When his supervisor picked him for this mission, he hadn’t argued. Ten-year-old wounds that still felt raw were hardly grounds for refusing an assignment. He was a professional. He had experience in this part of the country. He could manage his feelings about Christine just fine. It had taken him years to accept it, but their relationship had fallen apart because of him. She was a married woman now. He had to let it go and focus on work.

He stopped for a moment to look at the photograph of five-year-old Tyler Lansky. When he clicked on his flashlight, Tyler’s gap-toothed grin and blond hair came into view. Tyler was the reason he had been sent back here. Emmett Lansky had taken Tyler during a custody battle. Emmett had ties to a militia group believed to be setting up a training camp in this area.

The Bureau had been watching Emmett for quite some time. Now that Emmett had broken his custody agreement and taken his son across state lines, they had the excuse they needed to move in and make an arrest. Any intel out of him would be a step in the right direction. Though getting Tyler home safe to his mom was their primary mission, the infiltration would allow the FBI to see if there was any truth to the chatter they had been hearing, that this particular group was planning activities that fell outside the law.

Headlights flashed across Wyatt’s field of vision. He dived off the road into some brush. Lying low in the tall grass, he waited while the old pickup chugged past. Unusual to see someone out on a country road this late at night. His supervisor had warned Wyatt to keep the mission as quiet as possible. They didn’t want a repeat of what had happened ten years ago when they had shown up in full force, for what probably could have been a one- or two-agent operation. The rancher had turned out to be way more talk than action. The real tragedy was that after a forty-two-day siege, an agent had shot a fourteen-year-old boy who was climbing the fence of the property. The group had run out of water, and the boy was taking a bucket down to the river. The FBI sniper, exhausted from lack of sleep and restless from days of inactivity, had mistaken the bucket for a weapon.

The encounter had left the locals with a bitter taste in their mouths and a distrust of the FBI. This time they were only sending Wyatt and his partner. If a team or experts were needed, they could pull them from field and satellite offices fast enough.

Wyatt waited until the taillights of the old truck disappeared over a hill before resuming his jog down the road. He ran with an easy stride, barely out of breath. Early spring in Montana meant there was still a chill in the night air.

Dropping in by night would allow his partner in the helicopter to do a search for lights in remote places that might indicate a camp. The pilot would swing back around and get him. If the helicopter located anything or Christine gave them a direction to go, they would have an easy in and an easy out. No contact with townspeople required, no reopening of old wounds.

Christine had been a part of this community for ten years, and she’d recently been elected sheriff. She had to know something.

Wyatt slowed the pace of his jogging as memories rushed at him. She had been truly happy when she met Dustin. She probably had half a dozen kids by now. After a while, he’d been happy for her. She deserved it. His only regret was that he hadn’t been the man to make her happy. Working for the Bureau was what had kept them together, and he hadn’t seen what a gem Christine was until he’d lost her.

He ran to the top of the hill. In the distance, the lights from a farmhouse and outbuildings came into view. After tossing his backpack over a barbed-wire fence, he climbed it and made his way through a field filled with cattle. Most of the heifers had bedded down for the night with their calves. Those who were standing weren’t fazed as he passed by them.

As he neared the farmhouse, he felt a tightening in his chest that made it hard to breathe.

“Mommy, I saw lights.” Five-year-old Eva stood in the doorway of the old kitchen.

Christine looked up from the stack of bills she’d been shuffling through. Jake, their border collie, stirred at her feet. “Honey, you’re supposed to be in bed.” Every time she looked at Eva, she saw Dustin in her light brown curly hair and round eyes.

“But I saw lights in the sky, Mama.” She clutched the worn stuffed animal a little tighter. “Do you think it was angels coming to tell us about Daddy?” The little girl’s expression was hopeful and bright.

The only one having a harder time with losing Dustin than Christine was Eva. Her daughter hadn’t slept through the night since her father died in a hay-baler accident over a year ago. Christine’s heart squeezed tight, but she managed a smile. “I don’t know if angels need lights to see by. Come get one more hug, sweetie, and then it’s off to bed for you.”

Eva slipped easily into her mother’s arms. Christine held her, burying her face in the soft hair and inhaling the sweet little-girl smell.

“Everything all right?” Grandma Maggie, Dustin’s mother, stood in the doorway. Her gray hair was braided into a single rope that fell over her shoulder. Time spent in her garden had made Maggie’s skin a rich brown.

“We’re doing just fine.” Christine squeezed Eva a little tighter, enjoying the warmth of the hug. “Eva thought she saw some lights in the sky.”

“I saw them, too,” said Maggie.

Christine sat up a little straighter. “Really.” She’d been willing to dismiss the lights as Eva’s imagination; everything and anything, real and imagined, seemed to wake that poor child up, but if Maggie had seen the lights, too …

“When I got up to get a glass of water during the commercial for my program, I saw them through the bathroom window to the north,” said Maggie.

Christine stood up and set Eva on the worn linoleum. “Why don’t you have Grandma Maggie put you to bed?”

Maggie held out her arms. “How about Grandma tells you a story to help you sleep?”

Eva clapped her hands together and ran to her grandma. Christine listened while their voices faded down the hallway before returning to her bills. Through the open window in the kitchen, the cows in the corral mooed and bustled. Jake lifted his head and then rose to his feet, emitting one quick, sharp bark as he faced the north door.

Something was stirring things up out there. “I suppose we ought to go check it out, huh?”

The dog’s light blue eyes seemed to hold some under standing of what she was saying. He twisted his head to one side as though agreeing with her. With Jake trailing behind her, Christine made her way into the living room where Grandma Maggie had been watching a home-improvement show. As she grabbed the shotgun off the fireplace mantel, she could hear the soft murmur of the older woman’s voice and Eva’s laughter down the hallway.

Three females living alone with the nearest neighbor five miles down the road had the potential to make Christine feel vulnerable, but she could take care of herself. Her training at the FBI academy, endless firearms instruction and years spent hunting with Dustin had given her that confidence.

She pushed the door open, closing it softly behind her and stepping into the night. Heavy cloud cover meant no moonlight or stars. She stepped away from the circle of illumination the porch light created. As she neared the barn, the aroma of hay and livestock greeted her. Dustin had loved it out here, and she had grown to love it. Dustin’s old horse still seemed restless as it clopped around the corral. The pigs in the barn were snorting louder than usual for this hour. A raccoon or a coyote might have gotten in there. The last thing she needed was to have half her chickens be some varmint’s dinner. The ranch barely broke even. She couldn’t afford the loss.

Jake brushed against Christine’s leg. The dog stopped suddenly. The hair on his back bristled, and he emitted a low growl.

“Easy, boy.” Her heartbeat revved up a notch. Her nerves tingled in anticipation of an encounter. Inside the chicken house, it didn’t sound like an all-out massacre was taking place. The fox or coyote or whatever it was must be close, though, because the clucking and flapping of wings indicated some alarm had gone off for the birds.

She soothed the dog as they drew closer to the barn. Jake’s yipping became repetitive and higher pitched the closer they got to the side of the barn. She held the rifle at her side but was prepared to lift it and look through the site at a second’s notice. Holding her breath, she placed one foot in front of the other.

She startled when a shadow stepped out from behind the barn, a man. His hands went up in a surrender gesture.

She gripped the rifle a little tighter, but didn’t aim it. Most likely it was a farmer who had broken down on the road. “What are you doing here? Can I help you?”

The man uttered a single word. “Christine.”

Christine nearly fell backward as memories hit her like a tidal wave. She knew that voice. “Wyatt?”

He stepped closer to her, which caused Jake to rapid-fire bark and bounce from side to side.

“Jake, give it a rest.” Christine narrowed her eyes at the dog. The dog came to a sitting position beside her. His tail still twitched—an indication that he was ready to mount another assault of barking and bouncing.

Christine stared at the man in front of her, barely visible in the minimal light. What do you say to a man you thought you loved once upon a time? They had worked together and dated for almost two years. He was the one who had convinced her to apply to the FBI. And she had waited and hoped for a marriage proposal, waited and hoped for him to say he loved her, too. By the time she got her first field assignment ten miles from here in Roosevelt, she’d broken up with him knowing that he would never take the next step in their relationship … and then God had brought Dustin into her life. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s work related. I need your help,” he said.

“Work related?” Without knowing why, she found herself digging her heels in, feeling reluctant to invite him into her house. She’d have to explain who he was to Grandma Maggie and Eva if they were still up. “Why didn’t you just contact me at my office? You do know I’m the sheriff for Mohler County?”

“We’re trying to do this mission with as little disruption to the community as possible because of what happened ten years ago.” He took a step toward her. “It’s awful dark out here, don’t you think? Can we go inside and talk?”

When she’d met Dustin, she had left Wyatt and her past behind. She’d grown up in a Christian home, but Wyatt’s charm had caught her up in a whirlwind. Maybe she just didn’t want to revisit that part of her life again—maybe that was what the reluctance was about.

Wyatt rubbed his forearm and winced.

Even in the dim light, she could see that he was in pain. A rush of sympathy caused her to step toward him. “Did you hurt yourself?”

He shrugged. “Just landed funny, is all.”

The way he tried to hide the pain tugged at her heart. He always had to be a tough guy. “I suppose you can come inside and at least get a cold compress on that.” She led him to the back door and into the kitchen. The television was still on in the next room, but she didn’t know if Maggie had gone back to her program or not.

Still not feeling at ease, she turned toward the stove and twisted one of the knobs. The gas flame shot out, and she placed the kettle on it. “Have a chair. Can I get you a cup of hot tea or something?” After a quick intake of breath, she angled her head to look at him.

Wyatt waved the suggestion away with a hand. “I won’t take up too much of your time. I am sure you have family to attend to.” Instead of taking a chair, Wyatt wandered around the kitchen. He had never been one to sit still.

He hadn’t changed much in ten years, same muscular build, same hardened features. No gray showed yet in the jet-black hair. The other agents had nicknamed him “Street Fighter.” Two years in the military had made Wyatt Green disciplined and clean-cut, but something about him would always echo the tough streets of Las Vegas where he’d grown up.

Christine searched her freezer for the cold compresses with no luck. “I think my daughter has been taking the compresses for her stuffed animals. Frozen corn will do in a pinch.” She tossed it to him.

He caught the bag of corn and pressed it against his forearm. “Whatever works.”

She studied him for a moment, the angles and planes of his face, his square jaw. Only the tightening of his mouth gave away that he was hurting. “I know a little first aid. Let me have a look at it.”

“Be my guest.” He set the bag of frozen vegetables aside and held his arm out to her. Cupping his elbow, she palpated up his forearm. His skin was warm to the touch. She stood close enough to be engulfed in the soapy, clean scent. Her heartbeat quickened a little. She had always liked that smell.

“Ouch.” He winced and drew back, massaging the spot where she had pressed hard. “Thanks a lot, Nurse Christine.”

She smiled. “Don’t be such a baby. You definitely did something to it, but I don’t think it is broken. You probably just bruised or twisted it.” She handed him the bag of corn. “See if this helps at all.”

Silence descended between them. Christine freshened her cup of tea from the kettle that simmered on the stove. “So why has the Bureau sent you back here in such a clandestine way?”

Wyatt paced around the kitchen table as though he were trying to formulate how to answer her question. He stopped to examine a picture of Dustin and Christine standing in front of a row of tall sunflowers. She thought to tell him about the accident, but changed her mind. She felt the need to be guarded around him. The less personal they had to get, the better.

Wyatt didn’t say anything, but he flexed his hand and his jawline hardened. When he turned around to face her, he smiled. She knew him too well. The smile was an attempt to hide the pain that seeing the picture had caused. Even though they’d had to work the Roosevelt assignment together, she’d broken up with Wyatt before she had met Dustin. All Wyatt’s hurt over the breakup had come out as anger, which only confirmed that he was not emotionally mature enough to make any kind of a commitment to her. It didn’t look as if he’d changed much in the past ten years. He still buried his feelings.

She repeated her request. “You said you were here on agency business.”

Wyatt cleared his throat and squared his shoulders. “Yes, we have reason to believe that a man has taken his son to a militia training camp somewhere in this area. Emmett Lansky violated the conditions of his custody agreement when he took the boy across state lines. He was only supposed to have the kid for the weekend.”

Her breath caught in her throat. Handling the cases that involved children was always hard for her. “How old is the little boy?”

“He’s five.”

The same age as Eva. Christine set her cup of tea on the table as shock waves vibrated through her. She only hoped they made getting the child back their top priority. “Let me guess, though. The violation of the custody agreement allows you to gather some intel on this group and gives you some leverage for making Lansky talk. So far, you haven’t been able to catch them doing anything illegal, but you suspect they are up to something.”

“That kid needs to be back with his mom,” Wyatt said. “That’s the focus of the assignment.”

Christine pressed a little. “But you have probably been watching this guy, waiting for him to break some law, so you will at the very least have a reason to question him.”

“We’ve had eyes on Lansky and the group he’s a leader of for a long time. They are antigovernment, and judging from some emails we intercepted, they may be planning on doing harm to some elected officials they don’t like. It could just be talk, but we’d like to prevent an escalation. The normal pattern is for them to start looking for ways to fund their plans, usually through some illegal activity. If we can prevent that, we will have done our job.” He made his way around the kitchen table. “Either way, the kid gets home safe to his mom, and we rein in Emmett, which might cause the other members to back off.”

She crossed her arms and shook her head. “I just hope that little boy is okay.”

His expression became serious. “I intend to do everything I can to get that kid back in his mother’s arms.” He tapped his fingers on the table. “It’s not a bad thing if we’re able to prevent an act of domestic terrorism in the process.”

“I’m glad you take your job so seriously.” Wyatt’s strong need for justice had been one of the things that had drawn her to him in the first place. It was an admirable quality, but not enough to base a life together on. “I can’t say that I miss it—the agency, I mean.”

He stepped toward her. His eyes were full of fire. “Too bad. You had a nice start on being a great agent.” His voice had grown husky.

She could read the smoldering undercurrent of attraction in his words. He wasn’t really talking about her skills as an agent. He was talking about them, about their relationship. As always, though, Wyatt could never directly say how he felt, and she had to try to decipher the code he spoke in. Some things never changed. “I still have a lot to do tonight. What do you need from me?”

“You know the area. You know the people, and you are the sheriff. These guys must have built some ties to people around here. They may even have recruited members from the town. I need you to tell me of any people who have said things that sounded like they had a beef with the government. Anyone who has had long, unexplained absences that might indicate they’re at the camp. Has anyone been purchasing a lot of firearms? You know what to look for. If we could bring in a person who would give up the location of the camp, the assignment would be completed in two or three days.”

Christine felt herself growing defensive. He was asking her to betray the people she loved and cared about without cause or true evidence. She wasn’t about to point the finger at anyone just because of an offhand remark. “With airplanes, helicopters and cutting-edge surveillance equipment at your disposal, you can’t find one little training camp. Maybe it doesn’t exist.”

“You know better than I do that there are a thousand places a group of men could hide out here,” he asserted.

Christine pressed the palms of her hands together in an attempt to hide the rising anger. “You don’t understand these people. There’s a big difference between men who support each other and practice target shooting and men who are plotting to overthrow the government. Just because someone owns a gun and complains about paying taxes doesn’t make them an outlaw.”

An edginess entered Wyatt’s voice. “Look, we messed up bad ten years ago, I know that. We thought we would be a little more low-key this time. That’s why I came to you. I need your help.”

“The mistake the agency made ten years ago wasn’t just that poor kid getting shot. We came in as outsiders. We treated these good people like they were either stupid country folk or extremists. I’m not an outsider anymore. I can tell you these are good people here, smart and hard-working. They don’t want extremists here any more than you do.”

“I’m trying to protect the good people, too,” Wyatt insisted.

She stepped toward him. “These are my people now. They’ve put their trust in me when they elected me sheriff. I’m not going to betray them because one of them might have complained about the government at a church potluck.”

“I’m not saying they are bad people. I’m just saying sometimes there can be some rotten apples. And the bad guys look and act just like the good guys.”

“And what if I point the finger at somebody, and it turns out I’m wrong?” Christine set her teacup on the table. “I’ll do everything I can to help you get that child back, but I won’t make accusations without solid evidence. Reputation is everything around here. People are going to know if someone is brought in for questioning, and it won’t matter if the guy turned out to be innocent.”

“Mommy, I heard voices.” Eva stood in the doorway holding her favorite stuffed bear.

Christine swooped Eva up in her arms. “Sweetie, you are supposed to be in bed.”

Eva pointed to Wyatt. “Who are you?”

“He’s just an … old friend who came to ask Mommy for help she can’t give.” She couldn’t prevent the steely look she gave him.

“What kind of help?”

Christine rubbed noses with Eva. “You ask too many questions.” Her attempt at being playful sounded hollow. Wyatt had her so stirred up she probably wasn’t going to sleep at all tonight. “I have to put my daughter back to bed.”

“Good, I’ll just see myself out.” His voice lacked the defensiveness she had expected. Instead, she picked up on something conciliatory in his tone.

“Come on, Eva.” She took her daughter’s hand and led her down the hallway. As Christine settled Eva beneath her yellow quilt, she heard the door open and close. She kissed Eva and touched her sweet nose with her finger. “Now, for the last time, my dear, go to bed.”

She closed the door to Eva’s room and returned to the kitchen. Wyatt had left the bag of frozen corn on the table. She rushed outside. He stood at the end of the stone walkway, holding a phone in his hand.

“You can take this if it helps the pain in your arm.” His soft response had caused her to regret her own irritation.

“Thanks, and it’ll give me something to eat later.”

She smiled at his joke. “I didn’t mean to be so reactionary to your request. It’s just that … this is where I belong now.”

“Don’t worry about it. I understand.” The inflection in his voice seemed to communicate the exact opposite of what he said. He was hurt on a personal level by her reluctance to help.

“You helicoptered in, right? That was the lights we saw.”

He nodded. “We thought that would be quicker and less noticeable than a truck that nobody recognized.”

“So they are coming back for you?”

He waggled the phone. “Already got a rendezvous point established. Just got to hike out there.” Again, the tone of his voice betrayed him. She could detect the hurt underneath.

How easy it was to fall back into an old pattern.

Why did she even care about his feelings? She let out a sigh, crossed her arms against the spring cold and said, “I hope you are able to find the little boy … but I really don’t think he’s around here. There are other sheriffs in other counties. They may have seen something.” Again, she resented the position he had put her in. Still, the thought of the little boy separated from his mom pierced through her. “Of course, as the sheriff, I am obligated to cooperate … and I will if it is needed.”

Wyatt didn’t say anything, only pivoted and started jogging. As she listened to his footsteps fade in the distance, her emotions stirred up all over again. Only this time, she was upset with herself for the renewed intensity of attraction for a man she thought she would never see again.

TWO

Wyatt closed his Bible and massaged his chest where an intense ache had plagued him ever since he had left Christine’s. He had wanted to justify himself to her. To let her know that he was not the man she had dated ten years ago. But seeing the picture of Dustin with his arms wrapped around her had given him pause. She was a married woman. He questioned his motives in wanting her to view him in a different light … and knew he needed to back off.

His partner, Samuel Cranson, opened the motel-room door and stuck his head in. “Nice morning out there. Ready to go?” Samuel was almost twenty years Wyatt’s senior and close to retirement.

Wyatt tossed the Bible on top of his suitcase and rose to his feet after grabbing a wrap for his injured forearm. He didn’t have time to find a doctor. If he’d cracked a bone, it would mend on its own. “Let’s hope we get some kind of lead.”

The two men got into a battered pickup that had been purchased for them at a sheriff’s sale one county over. He doubted the pickup would fool anyone. In a town as small as Roosevelt, every stranger stood out like a sore thumb.

The plan had been made for Wyatt to try to probe Christine’s brain one more time while Samuel started questioning the law enforcement in neighboring counties. So much for easy in, easy out. Their investigation had just gone a little more aboveboard. Hopefully, though, no one would peg them as federal agents.

The safety of the little boy was not an issue. All the reports and even the ex-wife confirmed that Emmett doted on his son. Since it had been a point of contention in the divorce proceedings, Emmett’s desire to raise the little boy with the radical views had probably prompted him to take his son. The urgency came in finding the camp before the members found out they had been located and Emmett had a chance to find a new hiding place.

As they drove the few miles from the roadside motel into town, his thoughts returned to Christine. Ten years ago, he’d taken her for granted. He’d messed up. The better man had gotten her. Seeing her last night with her daughter was a cruel reminder of what he had missed out on.

Their breakup had been the start of his spiritual awakening and his decision to address his own issues. The wounds from his childhood ran deep and he was far from perfect. But with God’s help, he healed one day at a time.

Samuel lifted a finger off the steering wheel and pointed toward a squat brick building. “Sheriff’s office is over there.” He brought the truck to a stop. “I’ll call you in four or five hours, so we can update each other on our progress. Good luck.”

Wyatt got out of the truck and crossed the street. He entered the building where a dark-haired female deputy stood beside a file cabinet with an open drawer.

The deputy, whose name tag read Mitchell, studied Wyatt for a moment. “You’re the fed, right?”

Wyatt resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Despite their effort at blending in, something always gave them away. “Christine must have told you.”

Deputy Mitchell pulled a file. “Sheriff Norris said you might be stopping by and that I should help you as much as I could.”

At least that was encouraging. The deputy had been briefed, and Christine had laid out an expectation of cooperation. “Is Christine around?” He ran his hands through his dark hair.

“She has stepped out for a moment.” Mitchell opened the file and flipped through the loose pages. “She should be back shortly.”

“I’m right here.”

Wyatt whirled around to see Christine standing in the doorway. The hard line of her mouth and the narrowed eyes suggested that she wasn’t happy to see him. She must have known he wouldn’t give up easily or she wouldn’t have told the deputy about him.

Deputy Mitchell yanked her coat off the back of a chair and turned to Christine. “I’ve got a call about a fence dispute that has gotten ugly. If you want to hold down the fort, the two gentlemen have agreed to meet at the café across the street.”

“Sure, Lisa, that will be fine.” Christine took off her own coat and hung it on a rack as Lisa slipped out of the office. Her brown hair was pulled back in a pony-tail, and she looked sharp in the sheriff’s uniform. She picked up the file Deputy Mitchell had pulled out of the cabinet. “No luck finding the camp from the helicopter?”

Wyatt shook his head. “Not yet. Night searches allow us to look for lights in remote places. But we need to limit those. Don’t want to raise suspicions. Emmett and Tyler’s pictures are in every field office and resident agency in the Northwest, so he won’t get far once he decides to surface. We think he’ll stay hidden as long as he can, but we don’t want to spook him.”

She sat down at her desk and clicked on her computer. “If you like, we can look at a map together. I might be able to give you some insight into where to look.”

“We can do that, but I—” Despite the difficult position he had put her in, she was trying to be helpful. “What I really need is for you to think about everything you have dealt with since you got elected. Maybe even something you noticed before you took office. Groups like this often start out benign and become radicalized because of one or two members. They might start off with vandalism of federal property or something like that.” He detected the same flash of agitation in her features he had seen last night.

“I did think about it. I have the same thing to tell you this morning that I told you last night. There has not been any crime that set off alarm bells for me as being symptomatic of a buildup to domestic terrorism.” She looked away from him and tapped on her keyboard. “You will recall that I was trained to know what to look for with that sort of thing.”

Tension filled the air between them. She didn’t like being pressed, but he needed answers. He stepped toward her desk. “One of Lansky’s emails we intercepted specifically mentioned Mohler County. Roosevelt is symbolic to these guys because of what happened here ten years ago, like Ruby Ridge and Waco were for Timothy McVeigh. I thought maybe if you had a night to sleep on it, something would come to mind.”

Christine flipped open the file. “I checked on what has been done to find Tyler Lansky. We never got a missing-child report. Was an AMBER Alert even issued?”

Christine had always been a competent investigator. Whatever her feelings were toward him, she was concerned about the kid. “His dad isn’t going to hurt him. Tyler has been used as a ping-pong ball in a contentious divorce, but there is no indication there’s been any abuse.”

“Infecting your kid with violent philosophies is psychological abuse. I want to find that boy as bad as you do, but I think you are looking in the wrong place.”

They weren’t looking in the wrong place. She couldn’t see past her loyalty to the townspeople. “I need some kind of lead. If you could just point me to a person who might know something.”

“I am not aware of any extremist element around here. Most of the families that were a part of the siege ten years ago left the county in shame. But no one in town has forgotten about that boy being shot. I doubt they would trust an agent enough to tell you anything.”

That truth hit him like a rock thrown against his chest. He couldn’t go forward in the investigation without her. “You have a relationship with these people. They will talk to you.”

Christine drew her mouth into a tight line. “I can give you full access to all our arrest records and reports.” She paced across the floor to the coffeepot.

All her movements had been jerky and nervous since she’d come into the office. Though she maintained a professional demeanor, he knew her well enough to know she was upset about him showing up here. But was her irritation about the way they were running the case or about what they had been to each other ten years ago?

“Both Deputy Mitchell and I will help you with surveillance, or if you just need directions to someplace, or—” Her voice faltered when she spilled coffee on her hand. She cupped her other hand over it.

Sympathy surged through him as he bolted across the room. “Did you burn yourself? Let me see.” He reached for her.

She twisted and pulled her hand out of reach. “It’s nothing. I’ll take care of it.” She looked up at him, eyes like granite. “I’m still only going to deal in hard evidence, and I’m still telling you that I have not seen anything that makes me believe there is any kind of group around that is a threat.” Her voice strained to the point of breaking. She turned her back to him.

He was beginning to think that he was the worst person to send on this assignment. There was an elephant in the room that was getting in the way of the investigation. All the hurt he had caused her ten years ago was rising up to the surface. The undercurrent of tension in her voice told him he had pushed hard enough. Regret washed through him over the man he used to be … for how he had treated her. He reached out to touch her shoulder, but withdrew. She was a married woman. He didn’t want her to misinterpret the gesture. He softened his tone. “Guess I’ll look at those records.”

“Good.” She turned back to face him and offered him an artificial smile. “If you like, I can set you up in the next room. I can pull all the reports for the last six months. You can read through them to your heart’s content.”

Though she was trying hard to sound cordial, the lines in her forehead revealed her anguish.

“I suppose that is a place to start,” he said.

She wrote something on a piece of paper and handed it to him. “That’s where you access the most recent files.” She pointed. “If you go through that door, there’s a quiet room with a computer. You can work there.”

He had to be honest—no matter how hard he tried to dismiss it, who they had been to each other ten years ago was affecting how they related to each other now. “I’m sorry. I know this puts you in a difficult position.”

Christine’s tone softened. “It’s all right. We’re both just trying to do our job.”

Wyatt sat down at a wooden table that had a desktop computer on it. Except for a clock, the walls were bare. The only other furniture was a row of file cabinets.

Christine closed the door a few minutes after he sat down, but he could still hear her moving around and talking on the phone.

After three hours of reading, his only conclusion was that this was a place that didn’t have much crime. Mostly vandalism by teenagers and stolen farm equipment. But there was an illegal-weapons charge against a man named Angus Morrison that intrigued him.

Wyatt closed the window on the computer and rubbed his tired eyes. Considering that they thought this would be a two- or three-day assignment, this felt like a waste of time. He pushed his chair back, stood up and entered the main room.

Christine was gone, but the dark-haired deputy sat at her desk typing.

“Did you find anything that was helpful, Mr. Green?” She didn’t look up from her computer.

“Nothing that stands out. I don’t suppose you’ve noticed anything?”

“I can’t tell you anything more than Sheriff Norris did. She did ask me to offer to take you anywhere you needed to go or at least give you directions. It’s easy to get lost once you get out of town with no road signs.” She pushed her chair back and walked toward the coffeepot.

“That’s just the problem. Right now we are looking at thousands of acres of private and public land. We need a way to narrow down the possibilities. The best thing would be to ferret out someone who knows something and is ready to talk.”

Deputy Mitchell shrugged. “We’re not lying to you when we say we haven’t seen or heard anything. Are you sure you’re right about him coming up this way? Wouldn’t Lansky have come into town with his little boy if he’s here?”

“Not if he was being careful and didn’t want to risk being spotted.” He crossed his arms. “Emmett is not stupid. He knows we are looking for him. His plan is probably to lie low long enough for the intensity of the investigation to let up, then he’ll take his kid somewhere we can never find him. The window of opportunity for us to find Tyler is pretty narrow.”

After she poured herself a cup of coffee, Lisa sat back down in her chair. “That poor little boy. I do wish we could help.” She clutched her coffee cup and stared off into space.

Even the deputy seemed a little guarded around him. Maybe if he could tear down some walls, she’d be willing to prod her memory a little harder. He rocked back and forth, toe to heel. “So, a woman sheriff and a female deputy. That’s pretty forward thinking.”

Color rose up in Lisa’s cheeks as she sat her coffee cup down. “You mean since everyone in rural areas is backward thinking and behind the times.” The deputy stood up and faced Wyatt. Her tone was slightly confrontational. “We’re not as narrow-minded as you might think.”

Great, Wyatt. Open mouth, insert foot. His attempt at friendly conversation had had the opposite effect of what he had hoped. “I didn’t mean anything by my comment. I am sure you and Christine do a great job.” Did the young deputy know about the FBI disaster ten years ago? She couldn’t be more than in her early twenties. Maybe she was from around here and had been a kid when the whole thing had happened.

Deputy Mitchell maintained a stiff-shouldered stance. “Christine is a good officer. She got elected by a huge majority. With all her experience and training, we’re lucky to have her, and I know the extra income helps her out since Dustin died.”

A lump caught in Wyatt’s throat. Dustin was dead. As the shock spread through him, he struggled to keep his tone neutral. “Where did Christine go, anyway?” Confusion made it hard for him to think what he should do next. Christine wasn’t under obligation to give him an update on her life, but she’d had opportunity at the farmhouse to tell him and hadn’t.

“She went to drop some paperwork off over at the courthouse, and then she was going to the school for her daughter’s choir program.” Deputy Mitchell looked at the clock. “She should be headed up that way now. It’s just two blocks over and around the corner.”

The news about Dustin was like a tornado whirling through him. He managed a casual response. “Great, I’ll see if I can catch her.”

Christine buttoned her light coat against the spring chill. The morning had not been very productive. She kept staring at the door and wondering what Wyatt was doing. She hated herself for not being able to free herself from thoughts about him. She’d been young and naive when she’d first met him. How could he still have an emotional hold on her?

Despite being older and wiser, all the emotions that had kept her hanging on in a dead-end relationship ten years ago had coursed through her like a dam breaking the moment she’d seen him. The way she felt around him made her afraid of losing control. There’d been an opportunity to tell him about Dustin, but she had needed the safeguard of him thinking she was still a married woman.

Christine shoved her hands in her pockets as the high school came into view. The building that housed the lower grades and Eva’s kindergarten was just beyond that.

Maybe she was still feeling vulnerable. It had only been a year and a half since Dustin’s accident. Wyatt had probably had twenty girlfriends in the past ten years. The man was a rascal.

It would be easy enough to just let Deputy Mitchell assist him if he needed it. That would solve all her problems. Once Wyatt saw that the feds were looking in the wrong place, he’d be gone.

She heard footsteps behind her and glanced back. Wyatt ran to catch up with her. “Can’t this wait, Wyatt? I’m on my way to see Eva’s choir program.”

“I’ll walk with you. Just give me a minute.” He reached out and gripped her arm just above the elbow. He held her in his gaze like a laser locked on a target. He opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it.

What was he struggling to say? He hadn’t let go of her arm, and even through the thickness of the coat, she felt herself responding to his touch and remembering what it was like to be held by him. She managed a businesslike tone. “So did you find anything in the files that was helpful?”

“One of your reports was about confiscating a shotgun with the barrel sawed off.”

His reading of the reports had been very thorough, but they didn’t give the full picture. “Angus is an old man. He didn’t even know that what he was doing was illegal.”

“It’s my only lead. Who else does he know? Who does he hang out with?”

“I had procedural obligation to file a report on Angus.” A lump formed in her throat. “The Bureau researches behavior from sunup until sundown. But if you truly know someone, you know if they are capable of a crime.” She planted her feet. “Don’t make me point the finger of guilt at that old man.”

Wyatt spoke in almost a whisper. “His activity looks suspicious. Buying weapons and altering them is suspect.”

“On paper, yes, but I know Angus. I know his heart. I know his history, and that counts for something around here.” She turned away from him. “I’m sorry it’s not the lead you were hoping for.”

A noise from the parking lot caused them both to turn. Christine saw a flash of red as Randy Stiller ran away from an older-model car. Randy had been in trouble more than once. Christine had promised Randy’s mother she’d keep an eye on him. What was he up to now? “Randy, hey.” The boy stopped and made eye contact. The guilty look on his face told her everything she needed to know. The kid was up to something. “Stop right there, Randy.” She stepped out into the parking lot and chased after him.

She’d gone ten paces when an explosive boom surrounded her. A force of wind and heat threw her backward. Debris flew around her. Metal clattered as her body impacted with hard concrete. Everything went dark.

THREE

Even before the last piece of metal clattered to the ground, Wyatt dived into the fiery aftermath of the car bomb. He inhaled thick smoke, coughing.

He registered the fire that shot out from what remained of the car and heard the cacophony of panicked voices around him. But all of the noise and mayhem was like a radio turned down low. All he could see, all he could think about was Christine. The blast had tossed her sideways and now she lay motionless, forty feet from the burning car.

She wasn’t moving. The percussive thrum of his heart beating in his ears blocked out all other sound as though he were in a tunnel that led directly to her. He ran. Feet pounding pavement. He dived to the ground beside her and felt for a pulse at her neck.

She was alive.

With his hand still cupping her cheek, he leaned closer. She looked so pale and lifeless. “Christine, can you hear me?”

No response.

Dear God, let her be okay.

He jerked back when he saw the blood soaking through the collar of her torn coat.

A hand squeezed his shoulder. “What can I do?” The voice was calm, authoritative.

He looked up into the eyes of an older man in a suit. “She needs medical attention now.”

“The hospital is just down that way.” The older man pointed. “I can call.”

“How far is it?” He could see the two-story white building with the blue symbol for hospital over the other buildings.

“Three blocks. One down, two to the west.”

“It would be faster if I took her.” He lifted Christine. She was like a rag doll in his arms. He turned, finally able to absorb what was going on around him. A crowd had formed on the sidewalk not far from the burning car. “Do you work here?”

“I’m the principal of the high school. Is Christine going to be okay?”

Wyatt didn’t stay around to answer the question. Holding Christine close to his chest, he ran across the lot toward the sidewalk. Without slowing his pace, he crossed the street, grateful that the hospital was clearly marked.

Christine moaned. She opened her eyes. Her gaze was unfocused.

Still running and out of breath, Wyatt looked down at her. He could lose her. So much had gone unsaid between them. “Just for the record—” he gasped for air “—I did love you. I just didn’t know how to say it.”

As quickly as she had opened them, her eyes closed. He was only yards from the hospital entrance.

A woman in a nurse’s smock and a man stood outside the door. When they saw Wyatt coming, they pushed a gurney toward him.

The nurse spoke. “Principal Slater phoned ahead. Put her on this, and we’ll get her inside.”

He laid Christine’s limp body down. The medical team pushed her through the doors where a third man had come outside to hold the doors. Wyatt stepped inside, prepared to follow the gurney down the hall.

The third man gripped Wyatt’s elbow, stopping him. “They need to get her stabilized. It would be better if you waited out here.”

A sense of emptiness filled Wyatt as he watched the gurney disappear around a corner. “What?” He couldn’t comprehend what the man was saying. All he could think about was Christine. There had been no life in her eyes when she’d looked at him. He wanted to be with her.

“I’m sorry, sir, are you a relative?”

“I’m … I’m …” Who was he to her anymore? “I’m a friend. We knew each other years ago.”

“So, you’re not a relative.” The man scurried behind a desk and pulled forms out of file cabinets. “I know Maggie Norris. I’ll give her a call. She can come in and fill out the paperwork.”

Wyatt felt himself going numb as a sense of helplessness invaded his thoughts.

“Sir, why don’t you have a seat? As soon as we know something, we’ll let you know.” The man’s printer fired to life spewing out forms.

“I want to be with her.” Wyatt’s voice was barely above a whisper.

“I can appreciate that, but you are going to have to wait.”

His heart was still jackhammering in his chest from the exertion and the adrenaline. “When will they know?”

The phone rang, and the man behind the desk gave short, quick answers and then said, “All right, I’ll give Dr. Quaid a call.”

Wyatt rose to his feet. “Was that about Christine?”

The man held the phone in midair as though he were debating if he should tell Wyatt or not. “It looks like she is going to need a surgeon. We don’t have one on staff. This is only a twenty-bed facility.”

Desperation bombarded his thoughts. “How long will that take?”

“The more you interrupt me, the longer it will take.” The man’s words were forceful but calm. “I can see you are concerned about her.”

Wyatt backed down. Unable to sit still, he paced and waited and prayed. His breathing slowed and his heart rate returned to normal. Finally, he stumbled to the plastic waiting-room chairs and slumped down. His thoughts raced a hundred miles an hour.

What if she didn’t make it?

Christine awoke in a fog… not sure of where she was or what had happened. She opened her eyes, but shut them quickly in reaction to the bright light. As she struggled to orient herself, a strong, warm hand squeezed hers.

“Hey, sleepyhead. There you are. How are you doing?” The voice was filled with concern.

The voice was Wyatt’s. That rich tenor tone had always stirred her up inside. She turned her head, which caused pain to shoot through her shoulder. “Could you … could you … turn off those lights?”

“Sure, sure.” His warm touch faded, and a moment later, she heard clicking, and the room became darker.

The sterile smells and stiff sheets told her she was in a hospital bed. Wyatt returned, scooting the chair he’d been sitting in closer to her bed.

“How long have I been out?”

“About ten hours. They had to do some minor surgery on your shoulder … to extract some metal. And you have a concussion.”

She swallowed to produce some moisture in her mouth. “It was a bomb?”

“Yes.” Without her asking, Wyatt grabbed a cup off the tray beside her bed and placed it under her mouth. “Drink this. It’ll help. It’s just water.”

The water soothed her throat and moistened her dry mouth, bringing relief.

“Better?” He touched her forehead tenderly.

This was a side of Wyatt she had never seen before. He responded to her needs even before she voiced them.

As coherency returned, so did fear. “Eva. Where is Eva?” She lifted her head, let out an involuntary moan of pain and lay back down.

Wyatt made shushing sounds as he rubbed his knuckles over her cheek. “She and her grandma just went down the hall to get something to eat. They should be back any minute. They’ll be glad to see you’ve come around.”

“Is she doing okay with seeing me like this?”

Wyatt patted her hand. “She’s handling it just fine. Your deputy has popped in a couple of times, too … not to mention half the town.”

Christine’s heart warmed. People were like that around here.

Wyatt paused. He pulled his hand away. “Christine, I know you don’t want to hear this, but I sent Agent Cranson over to do a prelim investigation of the car bomb. A similar type of bomb was used in a judge’s car down in Wyoming. The militia group we are after, the one Lansky is linked to, took credit for it and said next time they would make sure the judge was in it when it went off.”

Christine stared at the ceiling. “It doesn’t make sense that this group would set off a car bomb if they are trying to hide out at a training camp. Why would they call attention to themselves like that?”

Wyatt cleared his throat. “That’s true. We are looking into the owner of the car, trying to find a motive.”

Christine took in a shallow breath. “Whether there’s a link or not, we need to investigate. The first thing to do would be to question Randy. He was standing by the car when I yelled at him. He might have seen something.”

“You mean the kid you were running after in the parking lot? He has disappeared … which makes him look suspicious. Your deputy has put out an alert to all local law enforcement to be on the lookout for him.”

A lot had happened in ten hours. Christine winced. Slicing pain in her shoulder made any kind of movement difficult. “Randy has had some petty-thievery problems. I doubt he knows anything about bomb making. I know his mother. Soon as I am out of here, we can go over and talk to her.”

“We?”

Still resting her head on the pillow, she turned to face him. “I know you want all the dots to connect, but I am not jumping to any conclusions. If you go over there to talk to Randy’s mom alone, she’ll clam up. Let’s face it, Green, you need me, even if you are a hotshot agent.”

Wyatt grinned. “I suppose you’re right about that.” His expression grew more serious. “One good thing about the bomb—it gives us as agents a reason for being here without anyone thinking we are looking for that camp.”

Christine tensed. “How many agents got called in? Swarms of feds descending on Roosevelt won’t do anyone any good. It’ll just open up old wounds.”

“We’ve got three bomb specialists flying in, and I thought it best to use some law enforcement from a nearby county to help with the evidence gathering,” Wyatt said. “A bomb blast scares people. I think we will get the cooperation we hope for.”

“I hope so.” She’d feel better once she could get out of this hospital bed and help facilitate the interaction between agents and townspeople. “I’ll help as much as I can to ensure things go smoothly. I don’t remember much of my training about bombs. It was kind of limited, and it’s been a long time.”

“You ever regret not using all of that training?” Wyatt fingered the wrap on his forearm.

“My priorities changed.” Trying to ignore the pain radiating from her shoulder, she let out a breath. “I wanted to be on the ranch with Dustin.”

As though someone had flipped a switch, Wyatt’s jovial expression darkened. He rose to his feet and turned away. His shoulders slumped as a tense silence spiraled through the room.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Why didn’t you tell me Dustin had died?”

So he had found out. “I … I just couldn’t find the right moment.”

“Mommy.” Eva’s sweet voice came from the doorway. She heard footsteps and then Eva’s bright face was right next to hers. “You woke up.”

She touched her daughter’s soft cheek. “Yes, sweetie, I woke up.”

Grandma Maggie, with her sweater folded over her forearm, came and stood at the end of the bed. “So good to see you perking up.” She patted Christine’s foot.

“Your family’s here. I’ll be going.” Hurt tainted Wyatt’s words.

Christine easily detected that Wyatt was upset over her not saying anything about Dustin. In the course of their relationship, she’d gotten good at reading his signals. “I’ll get in touch with you as soon as I check out, and we’ll go talk to Randy’s mom. That seems like the best place to start.”

“Your deputy can do it,” he said. “She wasn’t just caught in a car-bomb explosion.”

His words jabbed at her heart. Was he punishing her for not saying anything about Dustin? Christine felt conflicted over the suggestion that Lisa should help Wyatt. Earlier today that had seemed like the perfect solution, but she couldn’t let her personal feelings interfere with her professional judgment. Lisa was not an experienced investigator. “I’ll be out of here soon enough. I want to handle this.” She just hadn’t been prepared for the resurgence of emotions she thought long dead. Being with him made her … afraid. She didn’t trust herself not to fall into old patterns around him.

She couldn’t discern the look on his face as he opened the hospital-room door. He left without saying another word. She listened to his footsteps fade.

Eva climbed into the bed with Christine.

“Eva, be careful.” Grandma Maggie moved closer to the head of the bed.

“I want to be close to Mommy.” Eva touched a bandage on Christine’s forehead.

“She’s all right, Maggie.” She looked into her daughter’s sympathy-filled eyes. “Just watch the IV, honey.”

“The doctors said you can check out in the morning.” Maggie turned toward the door. “Mr. Green certainly left in a hurry after he had been so worried about you.”

“Really?”

Maggie moved closer to the head of the bed. “He carried you all the way to the hospital, and as soon as they would let him, he stayed by your side.”

Warmth swelled around Christine’s heart. Wyatt had never been that attentive to her before, but past experience made her reluctant to trust his actions. “He probably was just waiting until you guys got back.” She wasn’t sure what to think about Wyatt. He had always been about work. Maybe he just thought being nice to her would help him get his assignment done faster. Still, something about him was different.

Maggie patted her hand. “You look tired. Come on, Eva, let’s go home. You can see Mommy in the morning before I take you to school.”

A few minutes after they left, a nurse brought in a meal for Christine. She picked at her pudding and sandwich, but was able to finish the container of milk. Christine drowsed while some mindless show played on the television. When she was still half-asleep, a nurse came in and offered her a painkiller.

She awoke in the darkness hours later. The television had been turned off. Though the curtains were drawn, she could see through a sliver between them that it was black outside. Her brain told her body to wake up, but the painkiller made that order impossible to follow. Her limbs felt heavy, immobile. She fell asleep again.

Her eyes shot open. Had an hour passed or only minutes? She was sweating and chilled at the same time. Bits and pieces of what had happened during the blast had come back to her in her dreams. A loud boom had surrounded her.

In her dreams, she had remembered the strength of Wyatt’s arms. She had heard his frantic voice telling her she was going to be all right. His face had been very close to hers.

She’d opened her eyes for a moment. What had he said to her? Just for the record, I did love you. I just didn’t know how to say it.

She wiped the perspiration on her brow and shivered at the same time. No, Wyatt hadn’t said that to her. She had just dreamed it. Her mind was filling in the blank spaces of memory with wishful hoping.

The heaviness of sleep returned and she drifted off. When she awoke, she had no idea how much time had passed. Ten minutes? An hour? The room was dark and the view through the half-open curtain was black. The painkiller still weighted her limbs. Her mind moved in slow motion. She was shivering.

A rustling in the corner caused her to turn her head.

“Wyatt?” Her throat had gone dry.

The bulk of the figure told her it couldn’t be Wyatt, but someone was in the room. Must be a doctor. Her eyelids felt heavy. The painkiller made it hard to stay awake. She pulled the covers tighter around her neck.

As she drifted off again, she heard a harsh voice. “You better watch your step with these feds, Sheeer-iiiiiff.”

Chilled and frightened, Christine struggled to open her eyes. The voice had been a low whisper and had come from a few feet away. She hadn’t heard footsteps. Was he still here?

With her heart hammering in her chest, she reached for her call button.

A nurse appeared a few minutes later in the doorway. The dark room covered the nurse in shadow, making it hard to see her face. “Yes?”

“There was somebody in my room.” Christine lifted her uninjured hand and pointed to where she’d seen movement.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll turn on the lights.” The nurse spoke in that compassionate but noncommittal tone that medical people learned to master.

The lights went on. Christine winced from the bright ness. There was nothing in the corner but her coat thrown over a chair.

The nurse tilted her head to one side and offered Christine a quick smile. She pulled a blanket out of a closet and walked over to her. She put her face close to Christine’s as she smoothed out the blanket. “You must be cold.”

Christine closed her eyes. The look of pity on the nurse’s face was a little too much to take. She was a stable, clear-thinking adult. Why would she imagine someone was in her room? “You didn’t see anyone come in here or leave?”

The nurse shook her head. “We’ve only got two other patients besides you. It’s real quiet. So I would notice.”

“I just thought—” Now with the lights on and the nurse seeming so rational, Christine began to doubt herself.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself. You’ve been through a lot today and everybody is affected differently by the painkillers.” The nurse moved toward the door. “Would you like the lights out?”

“No, please, leave them on.” Real or imagined, Christine didn’t want to face what waited for her in the dark.

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