Queen (18 page)

Minutes later the mobile phone in his police car rang and he grabbed it, surprised by the sound.

"Hello?"

It was his dispatcher. "Sheriff… I think you need to hear what just came in over the fax."

"Can't it wait until I get back to the office?" Abel asked, trying to block out the image of Patrick's body from his mind as he swallowed the bile at the back of his throat. "And why the hell are you calling me on the phone? Why didn't you just use the radio?"

"Because of the scanners all the big ears out there probably have on," the dispatcher said. He was referring to the way the locals liked to tune their scanners to the police band so they could monitor the activity in their area without leaving the comfort of their homes to snoop. "I don't think you'll be wanting this to be broadcast… and it may have something to do with what you just found."

Abel inhaled sharply. "Let 'er rip, then."

The dispatcher began to read verbatim the fax that he'd just pulled off the wire.

"Virgil Stratton, white male, fifty-four years of age, six feet three inches, two hundred and forty pounds. Brown eyes, gray hair, and balding. Identifying marks: spider tattoo on his left cheek below his eye. Escaped from Denver while en route to another holding facility at fourteen hundred hours yesterday. Believed to be traveling south. Survivalist background. Must be considered armed and dangerous and believed to be traveling toward area in which he was raised."

"Oh, Lord," Abel said, and rested his forehead against the steering wheel while he contemplated this news. "Where did this Stratton grow up?"

"A little community up in the mountains called Nugget that no longer exists. It was once an old gold mining town, and it was played out in the late sixties." The dispatcher drew a breath before continuing. "Sheriff, I checked. Nugget was somewhere in the mountains between Denver and Snow Gap. I think we've got a problem."

"Okay! Then alert the proper authorities to the possibility that Stratton might be in this area, and get me some more men up here fast. We've got us a killer on the loose, that's already a fact. If it's this Stratton, then we've got ourselves another problem. If he knows the area and is a trained survivalist, it'll be hell pulling him out of these mountains in this goddamned snow."

"Yes, sir," the dispatcher said.

"And keep this quiet about Mooney. The last thing I need is a bunch of gawkers up here messing with my crime scene."

"Yes, sir."

"But… we've got no choice about issuing a bulletin that a killer is in the vicinity, whether it's Stratton or someone else. Get on the horn and contact the proper people. I don't want to have to investigate any more crime scenes like this one, you hear me?"

"Yes, sir!"

The line went dead, and Abel sighed. In his business it didn't take long to ruin a good day. He crawled out of his vehicle and headed for the tracks that he now knew belonged to the killer.

That the footprints still existed told Abel Miller that Patrick had died after the snowfall had ceased. The imprints left in the snow were still clean and sharp around the edges, although they'd already started to deteriorate from the wind and the glare of early morning sun. He stared into the tree line and then shuddered.

Cody grunted as he continued to shovel the last of the snow from the steps and then made his way across the yard, creating a small path to his Blazer in the process.

He'd become adept at traveling on snow-packed roads but had accepted the advice of locals and purchased a set of chains for his tires so that he would have less chance of being stranded during his periodic trips back and forth to Lowry Air Force Base.

Just thinking about the trips made him feel guilty. He knew that Queen was under the assumption that he was still seeing the base psychiatrist, although he'd been released some time ago. In actual fact, he'd been working on a project Dennis Macon had proposed weeks ago, on the day of his visit.

He had yet to accept the offer of heading the project, but the temptation to do so increased daily. Being in charge of the operation, and one so close to his home, was highly appealing. But he could not in all conscience give his word that he'd do it without the knowledge that his family would be well cared for, and that rested entirely on whether or not Queen Houston stayed. He was afraid to broach the subject, certain that it would only be adding yet another layer of responsibility on a woman who deserved better.

His shovel hit ice, jarring his shoulder, making him curse lightly as he repositioned and then scooped up another load of snow.

He figured that any way he turned he would be doing her an injustice. He lost sleep just thinking about making love to her and then lost more sleep thinking of the consequences of the act. How could he ask a woman to love him and commit herself to raising his sons when this was the kind of responsibility she had been running from?

Granted, the chemistry between them was explosive. There was no mistaking the ache in his body and the want in her eyes. He'd been around long enough to recognize lust when he saw it. And the difference in their ages bothered him. There was a big gap between forty-two and twenty-nine.

At this point, asking her to give up the rest of her life when she had yet to experience the first of it was more than he could bring himself to do. So he procrastinated and time passed as the trips to Denver continued.

He shoveled a path up to the door of the Blazer, then dropped against it with a weary sigh, resting while his legs quit shaking and his lungs quit burning. The early morning sun was so bright that the cold had been deceptive and he'd shoveled at too fast a pace.

He looked up, gauging the contents of the sky, and then decided that even if another front blew in, it wouldn't come before evening. That gave him time to still get to Denver and back before dark. He pushed himself away from the truck and walked back to the house using the narrow path he'd just dug.

Queen saw him coming and hurried away from the window, unwilling for him to know that she'd been watching him work. The power of his body was evident by the deep bites his shovel took in the snow and the speed with which he'd worked. Yet she feared that he wasn't hurrying for any reason other than the fact that he'd be leaving again. She'd come to recognize the signs before he ever announced his intentions and had convinced herself that she was partially to blame.

She'd already decided that he didn't like to be alone with her in the house. And after Dennis Macon's unexpected visit, she'd decided that he was sorry he'd taken early retirement from the service, that he missed flying and the camaraderie of his fellow officers.

Talking out what was going on would have saved both of them a lot of needless worry. But they hadn't, and judging from the way the subject was avoided altogether, it was unlikely to happen.

Cody stopped at the front door to clean his boots, carefully sweeping snow from the sides and tops before coming into the house. Queen had the hardwood floors gleaming with a mixture of oil and polish, and he had no desire to ruin her hard work.

She came into the hallway as he shut the door behind him, and she couldn't help staring at him in all his male glory. His hair was so black that it shined, his eyes so blue they burned, and he had an expression on his face that she'd come to dread. It was anticipation, and he got it every time he was planning to leave.

"Leaving so soon?" she asked, and then felt her stomach tilt at the guilty expression that swept across his features.

"I thought I'd run up to the base for the day. I might see Dennis. He called last night, remember?"

His gut wrenched. The look on her face made him sick. It was somewhere between accusation and acceptance. It made him mad as hell that she suspected he wasn't telling her everything. He shouldn't have to explain; after all, it was his damned life. And it hurt him like hell to think that she would stand there and take whatever he dished out without questioning or fighting. He had no idea that Queen Houston had fought her entire life for the right to simply exist. Asking for more had been beyond her ability.

So she stood and waited, letting him talk, unwilling to aid him in the lie she felt coming. She'd heard Johnny's lies all her life and told herself that this was just another man doing the same, that it shouldn't hurt. But it did, and she tried not to think of why it mattered.

She didn't want to love this big, dark-haired man and all that went with him. But she was afraid that it was already too late for what she wanted. Facts were facts, and what was in her heart was impossible to deny.

"Weatherman says more snow is coming," she said. "Be careful." With that she turned and walked out of the hall, leaving him standing in a puddle of melting snow with a knot of guilt growing in his belly.

He wiped his feet across the mat, then bolted after her, unwilling to leave on an awkward note. He caught her at the door to the kitchen.

"Do you want me to bring anything back with me? If you need something special… anything… I'll get it and damn the embarrassment."

She smiled at his offer, remembering months earlier when she'd given him a list of personal items he'd sent her to get instead. "No, I'm fine," she said. "There's nothing I need."

He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her toward him. She felt trapped in the intense stare of his eyes.

"But is there anything you want? All you have to do is ask and you'll have it."

Queen caught her breath and would have looked away, but breaking away from his gaze was impossible.

She'd heard the hidden message behind his question, she just didn't know if she had the guts to answer him truthfully.

She bit her lower lip and took a slow, deep breath. "Wanting and having are two different things, Cody. I learned long ago to never want what I couldn't have."

"Who says you can't have it, lady? I don't hear anyone around here telling you no. In fact, if memory serves, you're the one with the negative attitude. Am I right?" His voice had risen with each accusation until he was almost shouting.

"Oh, God, just let it be," she said, and buried her face in her hands. "You don't understand. I can't be casual about things like this. I can't just go with my feelings and then pick up what's left of them later and move on. I don't live on urges and promises."

"Neither do I, honey." Sorry that he'd lost his temper, he pulled her into his arms. "Neither do I. I just don't know how the hell to prove it to you."

With that he hugged her gently, kissed the top of her head, and walked out of the room.

"I'll be home before dark," he called back. "Take care."

He went upstairs to change. Minutes later he was gone as he followed the school bus down the mountain to Snow Gap and beyond, leaving Queen with nothing but her own fears.

The day felt crooked to Cody… somehow off center. From the moment he'd left with the argument hanging heavily between them to now, as he drove through the heavy-falling snow, he knew he should have stayed. He'd tried to get back to Snow Gap before school was out and had even been too late for that. His intention to catch the boys and save them the long bus ride home was futile, as traffic was beginning to pile up because of the snowstorm.

His radio was a mass of static and squawks, and he absently punched the seek button, hoping it would tune in on a station clear enough to hear, but in these mountains, in this weather, it would be unlikely. And then a station came in just in time for him to hear the last bits of the broadcasted bulletin.

"… must be considered armed and highly dangerous."

He frowned as the announcer finished and for a moment felt anxious that he hadn't heard it all. Then he reminded himself that there was never anything broadcast but bad news and promptly tuned it out, certain that it could not possibly pertain to anything concerning him or his.

By his calculations, he figured he had about eight miles of snow-packed road left to negotiate before he reached his driveway, and he thanked God for the friend who'd advised getting chains. They made all the difference.

As he negotiated a curve in the road, he was surprised to see the road ditch lined with emergency vehicles as well as several police cars. He frowned, fearing that someone must have had an accident.

Patrick Mooney's yard was full of cars and trucks, and Cody suspected that they'd used it as a central turning place to remove the victims. An officer stepped out from between two vehicles at the side of the road and waved him down.

"What happened?" Cody asked. "Did someone have an accident?"

"May I see some identification?" the officer asked.

Cody began digging his wallet from his pocket when Abel Miller walked up.

"It's okay," Sheriff Miller said, waving the deputy away. "I know this guy. He's shady, but I think we can let him pass."

Cody grinned, but something told him that the smile Abel gave him was forced and that something was terribly wrong.

"What's going on, Abel? Someone have an accident?"

"Not exactly," Abel said, and then scratched his chin, wishing he'd taken time to shave this morning. His whiskers itched like hell. "Patrick Mooney was murdered sometime early this morning. We have reason to believe that the perpetrator might be an escaped convict out of Denver. The guy's a wacko. One of those survivalist nuts."

Cody's belly lurched. He looked down at his watch, calculating the time it would take before his boys got home, and thought of Queen all alone in the house. "I've got to be going," he said. "I want to get home before dark."

Abel nodded. "We've been broadcasting warnings all day. I think everyone in the area knows what's going on and has taken the proper precautions… but you can't be too sure about something like this. I'd like to think the sonofabitch is on his way straight up the mountains and out of everyone's way."

Cody slammed the Blazer into gear and drove away, barely giving the sheriff time to step out of the way. Suddenly the instinct he'd been ignoring all day began to renew itself tenfold.

"Please, God, let her be all right," he said aloud. "Please let her be all right."