Close Proximity (19 page)

“L
ibby told me that she came to you about our suspicions.”

Kade Lummus looked at Rafe. “But she never mentioned Todd Lamb's name.”

Rafe said, “Well, now I have. You've got to find him. Send someone to the man's house, Sergeant.”

It was all Rafe could do to remain seated.

Evenly the officer said, “I've already asked you to call me Kade.” He looked up from the report form he was filling out. “What we both need to do is just calm down. We're not going to get anywhere if we're upset. Can I get you some coffee or something?”

“I don't want any coffee. I want you to find Libby.”

Lummus set down his pen. “Rafe, I've got an officer talking to the woman who's staying at the Corbett house. I've got another officer at the jail talking to David about
the threat he received against Libby. We want to find her just as much as you do.”

Rafe's frustration level was rising off the charts. “But Lamb is the key. Get someone to pick the man up!”

“Look.” Lummus sighed. “You've got to try to see things from where I'm sitting. We have no evidence that Todd Lamb is guilty of anything. The man could be innocent as a…well—” he shrugged “—as a lamb.”

He looked at Rafe, and seeing no response, the officer offered him a silent apology in his embarrassed grimace.

“I can't go banging on his door and accusing him of kidnapping without hard evidence to back up those claims. I've got a patrol car cruising past his house every fifteen minutes. If he's out on the prowl, up to anything at all that even begins to look suspicious, we'll bring him in for questioning. You can bet on it.”

Rafe knew the man was right. But sitting here doing nothing when Libby might be hurt, lying in some gutter bleeding…dying…

He couldn't stand it. He got up and paced the small office like a caged tiger. Every nerve in his body jangled. He'd never forgive himself if he lost her just when he'd finally allowed himself to open his heart to the amazing blessing fate was offering him in her.

Planting his palms on Lummus's desk, he steadied his tone. “Is there someone else I could talk to? Someone who has the authority to pick Lamb up
now?
”

Kade's eyes narrowed. Quietly he said, “Sit down and relax. Trust us to do this job right. Trust us to find her.”

He'd offended the man. Rafe sat down on the padded seat of the metal chair.

Trust us…trust us.

Libby had wanted to go to the police from the moment he'd told her his suspicions about Crooked Arrow being
the target for the contamination and Todd Lamb's involvement. But Rafe had talked her out of it.

If he'd been able to trust the authorities, it could be that Lummus would have put Lamb under some kind of surveillance weeks ago, just as he was doing now. Under police scrutiny, Lamb might not have had the freedom to break into Libby's house, to steal her away in the night.

Rafe looked around at the bustling station. Phones rang. Men scrambled. Knots of officers gathered to discuss strategies for searching the town and the surrounding area to locate Libby.

In that instant, Rafe realized that the color of his skin, his high cheekbones, his dark, deep-set eyes, his heritage, even his history of juvenile delinquency hadn't kept the police from believing and acting on his charge that Libby had been kidnapped. As he sat there with noise buzzing around him, he was struck with an amazing revelation. Racism never had been—and never would be—a one-sided issue. He harbored prejudices himself. He was ashamed of the realization, but it was the truth.

Cultivating a trustful spirit wasn't an easy task. Especially when there were so many bigoted and hateful people roaming the earth. People just like Todd Lamb. But Rafe had learned something tonight. He could no longer allow himself to nurture intolerance in his soul. In any form. No matter how others may behave, he would strive to treat his fellow man with the trust, respect and dignity that every human being had the right to expect.

A flurry of movement at the front of the room captured his attention. Upon seeing Jackson and Cheyenne, Rafe rose and strode toward them.

His sister was obviously shaken and distressed.

Jackson spoke first, keeping his voice as calm and low as possible. “Cheyenne had a vision. She had to see you.”

“What is it?” Rafe asked her. “What did you see? Is it Libby?”

She nodded, tears spilling from her dark eyes. Rafe felt nauseated. Never had he seen his sister this distraught by a vision.

“I felt pain,” Cheyenne said. “Shivered with both cold and fear.”

Trepidation solidified in Rafe's stomach until he ached with it.

His sister's dark eyes closed. “There is danger. Terrible danger. And water. Water is rushing. Flowing.”

Rafe was aware that Cheyenne had switched from past to present tense. It was almost as if she were in Libby's head, experiencing Libby's reality.

“It's d-dark. Too dark to see. C-cold. Confined.” Her tone was raspy as she added, “I'm g-going to die.”

Insanity threatened to overthrow his thoughts. But Rafe beat it back. He couldn't help Libby if he let himself get lost in his fear of losing her. He rewound the clues in his mind, trying valiantly to shut out Libby's physical and emotional torment.

Cold. Dark. Rushing water. Confined.

The sacred cave. She was tied up and being held in the cave. His gut told him.

But how could Lamb know about the Mokee-kittuun holy site? It made no sense. However, he had tremendous faith in his sister's gift. He would tell Lummus. Then he would go rescue his woman.

“But I have no jurisdiction on Crooked Arrow,” the sergeant said after Rafe had explained. “My men can't go onto reservation property without permission from the Mokee-kittuun police. I'll call.”

“You do that.” Rafe turned and started for the door.

“Wait!” Kade shouted. “Don't you go out there alone.”

Rafe ignored the man's advice.

 

His tires slid in the loose gravel at the foot of the hill when he brought his pickup to an abrupt halt. The vehicle had gotten him as close as it could. The rest of the journey would be on foot. He thanked The Great One when he looked for and found a flashlight in his glove compartment.

Rafe kept sweeping his glance in a wide arc. He saw nothing but rocks, vegetation and shadows. Heard nothing but the wind and the crunch of gravel beneath his boot heels as he raced along the path.

The question of how Lamb knew about the cave continued to niggle at his mind. Either Libby had told the man or else Todd was working with someone from the Mokee-kittuun tribe.

He slipped into the cave and hurried down the passageway as quietly as possible. He hadn't seen a vehicle at the foot of the hill, but that didn't mean Todd or someone else wasn't there guarding Libby.

Why guard her, a stark voice rose up in his head, if the intent was to kill her? Remove her from the case?

Dread pained him, shook him to the core.

Entering the chamber, Rafe paused. Listening—feeling—for human presence.

The faint sound of water flowing was all he heard. He frowned, sensing nothing but a confusing solitude.

“Libby?” His shout reverberated off rock. He turned on the light and swept the cave with it. The beam wasn't strong enough and faded into shadows. Feeling the need to be completely thorough, he searched the rocky ledges and crevices of the cave, moving to the far end where the
cascading waterfall drowned out his thoughts and all he had left in his head was pure panic.

“Where are you, Libby?” he whispered, emotion swelling, aching in his throat.

He lifted pleading eyes heavenward. “Oh, Great Father, please help me.”

Rafe let his lids close and he inhaled deeply, endeavoring to focus his mental energy away from the unnerving terror in him and onto the clues that Cheyenne had revealed.

Cold. Dark. Rushing water. Confined.

He'd taken the confined to mean she was secured in some way. Tied with ropes or tape. But what if the description meant something else? What if the place she was in was confined?

“She's cold,” he repeated aloud. “It's dark. There's water around her. And wherever she is, it's cramped.”

Rushing water. He thought of the Pacific tides ebbing and flowing. Waves pounding the surf.

But confined.

A boat? Could she be in the hull of a boat? Racing out into the sea where Todd meant to dispose of her body—

“No!” He raked his fingers through his hair. He couldn't think like that. “She's alive, damn it!”

Rushing water. Confined.

Flowing water. A cramped space with flowing water.

“The well.” The idea passed from his lips on a breath just as it entered his head. Libby was at the well site that Springer had been drilling for Crooked Arrow. There was a small sheet metal building there. That had to be it.

He dashed toward the cavern entrance, but paused near the center of the cave. The police were coming here. He had to leave word that she was located in the abandoned well site.

How could he leave a message when he had no paper, no writing utensil?

The beam of his flashlight illuminated the blackened circle where hundreds of fires had burned over the years.

Ash. Charcoal. Could he use it to leave the authorities a message?

“Kit-tan-it-to'wet,” Rafe whispered to the most Holy One, “forgive me. I'll come back and clean up the mess.” Using his index finger, he printed block letters right there on the floor. As he worked, he continued to pray. “Please grant me the wings of Brother Eagle, the swift feet of my totem, Brother Deer. I must reach Libby in time.”

He stood and surveyed his work. Certainly one of the policemen would see the message. He sprinted from the cave.

 

Large construction equipment, dark and dormant, littered the fenced-in area. Located seemingly out in the middle of nowhere, the abandoned well site was silent. But the chain used to secure the eight-foot-high steel link fence lay on the ground, snipped with metal cutters.

Every nerve in Rafe's body came alive. Leaving his truck just outside the gate, he cautiously approached the sheet metal building that had been temporarily constructed to protect the workers from the weather.

Somewhere on the far side of the makeshift building, metal flapped in the chilly breeze, clanging against metal. The rusted hinges squeaked like mice as he inched open the door. He slipped inside, flashlight in hand.

What would he do, a forlorn voice echoed in his head, if all he found was the lifeless body of the woman he loved? Immediately, he shoved the question from him.

All Rafe could hope was that Lamb had been unable to
actually hurt Libby. That he'd only left her here to freeze to death, or starve.

Hearing nothing but normal night sounds, Rafe snapped on the light and called out Libby's name.

“If you're here, honey,” Rafe shouted, pointing the light from one dark crevice to the next, “I need to hear from you. Call out, if you can. Kick something. Knock. Make some noise, honey. Help me find you, Libby.”

Moving counterclockwise, he searched the building. Construction debris littered the floor. Rafe was afraid to step on the pieces of sheet metal, fearing Libby just might be hidden beneath one.

Not until he reached the back of the building did his emotions begin to churn. Fear. Doubt. Panic. All of these feelings swirled inside him.

“Help me, Libby.” He heard his voice tremble. “You've been smarter than me all along,” he called out, lifting a large cardboard box and then tossing it aside. “You've known that this thing between us is special. Even before I begrudgingly admitted it, you knew. You tried to make me see that. I've been stubborn. Willful. I thought I could fight it. Well, now I know I've been wrong. Terribly wrong. And I need to know you forgive me.”

He peered beneath the huge crane. “I'll do anything, honey. I want you to know I'll go see a therapist. I'll talk about the past. I want to let it all go. That will be good, don't you think? And I do want to be a Running Deer again. I do. And I love you for suggesting it.”

This babble helped him to retain his grip on reason.

“You're here, Libby. I know you're here.” Louder he said, “I love you, woman. Do you hear me? We can't be together if you don't help me find you.”

Finally, his panic welled to the surface like dry volcanic ash, spewing from him in a wretched eruption.
“Libby!”

The echo of his voice hadn't died before a sound caught his attention. The narrow shaft of light spanned the dark interior. Some slight movement caught his eye. A rope hung down from the topmost reaches of the boom of the crane he'd searched under. The rope quivered just the slightest bit.

Rafe stepped over the metal barricade, then reached down to tug aside the sheet metal that covered the hole in the ground—the actual well that had been dug.

Libby's coppery hair glinted in the dim light thrown by the flashlight.

“Talk to me, honey,” he coaxed, now shoving the pieces of metal out of the way with renewed energy. “Look up at me, Libby. Show me those beautiful eyes of yours.”

She tipped her chin up then, and the tears streaming from her face both elated him and disturbed him mightily.

She was alive! And he had to get her out of there.

Laying flat on his belly, he reached for her. But she was dangling too far down.

Libby shivered. Her skin was pale as cream and she was filthy.

“I'm going to get you out of there,” he softly crooned. “Don't worry.”

The gag on her mouth kept her silent, but the pain in her gaze spoke volumes.

Her chin lowered back down to her chest, and Rafe realized how weak she was. The rope bit cruelly into her upper arms. Adrenaline streaming through his body, he shot to his feet, ran to the crane and climbed up into the huge piece of machinery. Shining his light across the console, he saw the ignition. No key.