Outlaw Lawman (5 page)

Or something.

“What’s the date?” she asked.

The officers seemed surprised, but Tinsley checked his watch. “The fourteenth.”

“It’s still
tomorrow,
” Harlan verified. “And I’m pretty sure the shooter was supposed to make that threat come true.”

Yes. And he nearly had. She’d lost count of how many shots he’d fired, but any one of them could have hit Harlan and her.

“He wasn’t an expert shot,” Harlan continued. “And it was personal.”

Caitlyn couldn’t argue with either of those points. “That leads us back to Farris.”

She was about to ask for a phone so she could make some calls to find out if Farris was indeed still in the institution, but she stopped when she spotted the truck just ahead. Not speeding away. Not even on the interstate.

But rather at a standstill in the emergency lane.

“That’s it,” Harlan told the officers.

Tinsley turned on the lights and siren, called for backup and eased to a stop behind the truck. Caitlyn tried to look inside the vehicle, but Harlan didn’t give her a chance. He caught the back of her neck and pushed her down on the seat.

“Stay put,” Harlan insisted.

Tinsley looked back at Harlan as if he might tell him the same thing, but he didn’t stop Harlan from getting out with him and his partner. Both cops drew their weapons, and they stayed behind the cover of their doors while they kept their attention fastened on the truck.

Caitlyn lifted her head just a little so she could look, too, but the back window on the truck had a heavy tint, and she couldn’t see inside the truck cab.

Tinsley called out for the driver to exit the vehicle. No response, though. Ditto for his second attempt.

The seconds dragged by, and even though Caitlyn tried to keep her heartbeat and breathing steady, she failed big-time. She’d known she was in danger before she even went to Harlan’s place, but she hadn’t considered that she could be bringing the danger to him.

He could be killed.

Right here, if the gunman started shooting.

Even though there was bad blood between them, the last thing she wanted was him to be hurt. Or involved in this. But then she rethought that, too.

Harlan was involved.

One of the threats had even mentioned what he’d said to her that night they’d had sex. So maybe the person behind all of this had written that knowing it would make her suspect Harlan. Knowing that she would go running to him.

If so, this was all her fault.

Her breath stalled again when the cops began to inch toward the truck door, and Harlan stayed right with them despite the fact that he wasn’t armed. Each step they took put her heart higher in her throat, but she could only sit there, watch and pray that this was all about to end. If they had the shooter, then they would know who was behind this.

And why.

Tinsley approached the driver’s side. His partner, the other. But Harlan moved even closer to Tinsley when the officer peered into the window. He said something to Harlan. Something she couldn’t hear, but Caitlyn didn’t need to hear the words to see the frustration in Tinsley’s body language.

It was Harlan who threw open the driver’s door, and again she didn’t need to hear what he said to know he was cursing a blue streak. That was the last straw.

Nothing could have held Caitlyn back at that point.

She bolted from the cruiser to see what had caused the profanity and frustration. And she soon saw.

The truck was empty.

She looked back to the interstate, hoping she’d catch a glimpse of the shooter—maybe on foot, maybe driving away in another vehicle. It was possible he was doing just that, but if so, he was nowhere in sight.

“He left something,” Harlan said.

Caitlyn followed his gaze and soon saw what had captured Harlan’s attention. A folded piece of paper was on the steering wheel.

“I want it processed for prints.” But Harlan didn’t touch it. No doubt because he didn’t want to disturb any evidence that the shooter might have left, not just on the paper but in the truck itself.

“Something’s written on it,” Tinsley pointed out.

“Yeah.” Harlan shook his head, repeated it. “It’s a message,” he said, looking at Caitlyn. “For you.”

Chapter Five

Harlan cursed the bad phone reception at the Maverick Springs Hospital, and everything else he could think of.

There was a lot on that particular list.

He could make out only half of what his brother Slade Becker was saying, but even so, Harlan wasn’t hearing anything good.

His other brother Declan had brought Harlan his phone from the house because it had all his contact numbers, but what he needed was to hear some good news.

According to Slade, there was no sign of the shooter and no security cameras at the motel in Cross Creek where he and Caitlyn had been taken, cuffed and left for a killer to finish them off. If the crappy news had ended there, it might not have been so bad.

But it didn’t.

Sergeant Tinsley had added to the growing heap of
bad
by telling Harlan that there didn’t appear to be any prints or traces in either the truck or on the note the SOB had left with Caitlyn’s name scrawled on the folded sheet of paper. A note with just a handful of words.

This isn’t over. You’re a dead woman.

Harlan wanted to disagree with that threat, but he couldn’t. As long as the shooter and his accomplice were out there, this was far from over for Caitlyn. And as for the dead part—well, that’s what he had to stop from happening.

“What about any info on Jay Farris?” Harlan asked his brother.

“Still trying. He was transferred to a private facility about a month ago—” And the rest was static gibberish, but Harlan thought Slade said something about the facility not giving them access to records without a court order. “You’ve got to call the Ranger back, Harlan.”

Now, that part came through loud and clear.

Figures.

It was the one thing in this conversation that he didn’t want relayed, because the Ranger in question was none other than Griffin Morris, who’d been assigned to investigate Jonah Webb’s murder. If Harlan had thought for one second that Morris had any info about this incident, he’d be on the phone to him, but no. Morris wanted to question Harlan as a possible suspect—accessory to Webb’s murder.

Harlan didn’t have time for that.

The door to the examining room opened finally, and Harlan told Slade that he would call him back. Right now he needed to make sure Caitlyn was all right, and judging from the glimpse that Harlan got of her face from over the doctor’s shoulder, she wasn’t. She was shades too pale and looked ready to collapse.

Dr. Cheryl Landry stopped in the doorway and met Harlan’s gaze. “She’ll be okay. Your turn now. Want to go into the examining room next door so I can give you a checkup?”

“It can wait.” Yet something else he didn’t have time for—and besides, he’d already done the important part. He’d had the lab draw a blood sample to see if they could identify what had been used to drug him.

The doctor frowned, but she didn’t look surprised. Probably because she’d been stitching up Harlan and his brothers for the better part of a decade. She knew cooperation wasn’t their strong suit.

“At least get some rest,” the doctor grumbled. “And that goes for both of you. I’ll call as soon as I have the lab results from the tox screens.” She walked away, still mumbling and scribbling something on a chart.

Caitlyn didn’t get up from the examining table. Practically limp, she sat there wearing green scrubs that were identical to Harlan’s. One of the first things on his to-do list was to get them a change of clothes, since theirs had been bagged for processing. He doubted there’d be any usable trace evidence on them, but their luck might change.

He sure as heck hoped so anyway.

Harlan walked closer, easing the door shut behind him so he could ask her a question that he wasn’t sure how to ask. He played with the words in his head, but Caitlyn beat him to it.

“I wasn’t sexually assaulted,” she volunteered. “No signs of recent sex, consensual or otherwise.”

Harlan was relieved but not surprised. Well, not surprised except for the recent-sex part. With Caitlyn’s looks, he figured she must have a current lover, but maybe Farris had destroyed that part of her life, too.

Thankfully, he’d seen no indications on her body of a violent attack, and he’d gotten an up-close-and-personal look at it, since she’d been wearing only panties and a bra in bed. Besides, if they’d had sex he would have remembered.

Even drugs wouldn’t have blocked that out.

Hell, bad blood and sixteen years hadn’t been able to make him forget having sex with her.

“I’m guessing there are no breaks in the investigation,” she mumbled, pushing her hair away from her face.

Harlan shook his head and caught her arm when she practically stumbled off the table. “There’s some red tape involved in getting more info about Farris at the private facility where he was transferred. Did you know he’d been moved?”

“No.” She gave a weary sigh and looked up at him with those equally weary blue eyes. “I went in the wrong direction on this. All those threats seemed to point to you.”

And he wasn’t too happy that she’d jumped to believe the worst about him. But then he mentally shrugged. She’d probably thought the worst because in their last conversation they’d been at each other’s throats.

He’d blasted her six ways to Sunday over that article she’d written about him.

“We can go back to my place and wait,” he insisted. “You need to get some rest and something to eat. And we can make a few calls to try to speed up all the wheels that are turning right now.”

He’d also have to put some time in at the office, but the adrenaline crash was getting to him, too.

“Is my car still at your house?” she asked.

“Yeah.” It was one of the things he’d managed to hear Slade confirm. Her car was there, and there’d been no damage to the place. “But you’re not driving anywhere. It’s not safe, Caitlyn.”

He braced himself for a big argument. Caitlyn was even more pigheaded than he was, but it had to be a sign of exhaustion when she only shrugged. “I just want to catch this bastard.”

Harlan was right there with her. Literally. She took a step but then stumbled again. And this time she fell into his arms. Except it was more than a fall. She was so weak, she didn’t hit him with a thud. She melted against him.

Not good.

Because their arms went around each other. Their bodies met. And she looked up at him. At the same moment he looked down at her.

Everything seemed to freeze.

In fact, lots of weird things happened. The memories came. Not those of the attack—something that should have been occupying his thoughts—but other memories. Those that involved kisses.

And more than kisses.

The corner of her mouth lifted, and that half smile seemed as wobbly as the rest of her. She gave his arm a pat, grazing his chest in the process. The rest of her did a little grazing, too. But she didn’t move away.

Neither did Harlan.

Oh, man. He didn’t need this now. Not ever. The memories were bad enough, but now his asinine body was starting to act as if it was about to get lucky.

It wasn’t.

And Harlan repeated that to himself.

“Even hate can’t cool
that
down,” Caitlyn mumbled. With that shocker of a remark, she brushed her mouth over his, opened the door and headed out.

Harlan was right behind her, but it took him a moment to get his tongue untangled over that blasted half kiss. Man, something that wussy shouldn’t have packed such a wallop.

“I don’t hate you,” he clarified, choosing to deal with the easier part of that shocker. He didn’t intend to touch the other with a ten-foot pole. “I hated what you did. I don’t like it when people screw around with my badge and career.”

“That article was my career,” she countered. “If I hadn’t written it, someone else would have.”

That was probably true, but this wasn’t a reasoning kind of thing here. Her article had painted him and the Marshals Service in a bad light, and he’d caught a boatload of flak over it. Flak he’d aimed right back at her when he’d called her.

“I’m not a jerk,” she added, “but sometimes I have to make decisions I don’t want to make.” Caitlyn stopped and looked out when they reached the door.

Just as Harlan did. He didn’t see anyone ready to gun them down, but his brother Declan was waiting, leaning against his truck, which was parked next to one of the standard-issue cars that Harlan had used to drive them from headquarters to the hospital.

“Declan,” Caitlyn said, and she hurried to him and pulled him into her arms for a hug.

Harlan wasn’t jealous of his little brother, but it was a little unnerving to see Caitlyn nestled there as if it were the most natural place on earth for her to be.

Declan smiled and lifted a strand of her hair. “Last time I saw you, it was pink, and you had a nose ring.”

She returned the smile. “Last time I saw you, you weren’t taller than me.”

Declan put his mouth to her ear, whispered something. When he was done, Caitlyn did the same and then they finally pulled away from each other.

“Best not to stand out here in the open like this,” Harlan grumbled.

He frowned, first because they were out in the open with a gunman loose and then because he was—hell’s bells—jealous.

Yeah, he was.

He didn’t want to be, but wanting the feelings to go away didn’t make it happen. He forced himself to remember that blasted article she’d written. And the fact that Caitlyn had thought he was a would-be killer.

That gave him the attitude adjustment he needed.

Harlan took her by the arm and pulled her toward the car. “Slade told me there was a problem getting info on Farris,” he said to Declan.

“There was. The facility wouldn’t confirm or deny they had a patient by that name. The court order was taking too long, so Dallas threatened to close them down for harboring a fugitive.”

“Good.” Harlan wished he’d been the one to do the threatening even if a threat like that was little more than a bluff. For Pete’s sake, this was an attempted-murder investigation, and in his book that should trump privacy issues of someone who shouldn’t have been granted privacy in the first place.

“Farris is out, isn’t he?” Caitlyn asked.

Harlan looked at his brother and wondered how she’d come to that conclusion. He didn’t see anything in Declan’s expression to indicate that particular piece of bad news.

But then Declan nodded. “He only spent a few days at the private facility before he was released to his personal shrink.”

Caitlyn didn’t make a sound, but she dropped onto the seat. “How did he get out?”

“Not sure yet. The court order should tell us that, but in the meantime, we have his name and his picture that we got from old articles on the internet.”

Old articles probably connected to the time he’d attacked Caitlyn. Harlan was looking forward to putting this guy right back where he belonged. It took a special piece of slime to try to kill a woman.

“Every law enforcement agency in the state will be looking for Farris,” Declan added.

Yeah, but according to Caitlyn, Farris was rich. That meant he had resources and could already be out of the country or at least hidden away. Well, if he didn’t still want to kill them, that was. If he did, then Farris wouldn’t go far. He’d continue to stalk Caitlyn.

“It might not be Farris,” Declan reminded them. “That’s why we need to take a harder look at all of this.”

Harlan couldn’t agree more. “I’ll be by the office later, and I can expand the search.”

“Not until tomorrow,” his brother corrected. “Saul’s orders. He put you on quarters for twenty-four hours and doesn’t want to see you before then. Made it official and everything with some paperwork.”

Great. Just great. Saul Warner, his boss, was forcing him to get some rest. Rest that Harlan needed badly. But he’d much rather be working the case, and the best place to do that was at the office.

Harlan hit the accelerator much harder than he’d planned and ended up peeling out of the parking lot.

“Is the anger for me, Farris or the fact you can’t go to work today?” she asked.

Harlan didn’t even try to lie. “All three.”

She made a sound to indicate she wasn’t surprised. “Don’t worry.” Caitlyn reached over and took the phone that was sticking out of his front pocket. “I’ll make arrangements to stay elsewhere.”

He snatched the phone back from her and headed for the ranch. “Elsewhere?”

“Yes. As in with a friend or something.”

“Sheez. Are you trying to get yourself and your
friend
killed? That last threat wasn’t a joke, Caitlyn. This whack job isn’t backing down.”

The color drained from her face again, and she swallowed hard. Okay. So he hadn’t meant to yell at her, but he also had to make it clear that the danger wasn’t over just because they were no longer cuffed together and half-naked in a motel room.

“We have ranch hands who can set up security,” he went on. “They can keep an eye out for this guy.” And he could do a better job of securing his own house. He didn’t have a burglar alarm, but he could lock all the windows and doors and keep watch.

“If I stay with you, I’ll put you in danger, too,” she said, her voice catching.

“I’m already in danger. The threats were meant to send you to me. The guy was waiting in my house with a Taser.” Not exactly a pleasant thought that someone had gotten the jump on him and that it could have cost them both their lives.

“Besides,” Harlan added, “I’m a marshal, and until we work out what’s going on, you’re not leaving my sight.”

Her left eyebrow swung up. “Really?” she said with a massive amount of skepticism. “You want to
protect
me?”

There it was again. That irritating nails-on-a-chalkboard effect, since she was questioning his intentions as a lawman.

“I
will
protect you,” he insisted. Wanting to do it was an entirely different matter. “And so will my brothers.”

Declan included. Not a surprise, but that encounter in the parking lot still was.

“What’d you whisper to Declan?” And why he was wasting time on this, he didn’t know. Oh, wait. Yeah, he did. Caitlyn was making him crazy, and not in a good way.