Mountain of Evidence Page 7
“Are you saying you don’t trust me?”
“I don’t trust Toby Masterson, and I don’t trust Dane Trask. You—I trust you.” His gaze searched her face, lingering on her lips.
She leaned into him, drawn by heat and masculinity and her own desire to be closer. To know more. When he dipped his head toward hers she rose up on tiptoe to meet him, her lips pressed to his. He slid his hand from her shoulders around to her back, and pulled her to him. The heat of contact seemed to melt into her, dissolving a stiffness she hadn’t even known she’d been holding.
The gentleness of his kiss surprised and touched her, yet when she pressed for more, he responded with a skill and passion that made her sigh. Sensation danced from her lips through the rest of her, until the tips of her fingers tingled and her toes no longer felt the ground. He tasted of wine and spices, and smelled of a subtle aftershave and a fragrance all his own, warm and male and undeniably attractive. She dug her fingers into his shoulders, feeling muscle, and surrendered to the joy of the moment. How long had she been waiting for this and hadn’t even realized?
He was the first to pull away, keeping hold of her but putting a little distance between them. “Are you sure you’ll be okay alone?” he asked.
Was he hinting that he’d like to stay? As nice as that kiss had been, she wasn’t ready for that yet. “I’ll be fine,” she said. “And thank you for everything.”
“Thank you.”
He bent his head again, but this time only brushed his lips to her cheek. Then he let himself out. She leaned against the closed door, smiling to herself when she thought she heard him whistle. Grant Sanderlin might be all wrong for her in the long run, but in this moment, he felt very right.
Chapter Eight
“Something’s very wrong with this picture,” Grant said. He studied the map of the Ranger Brigade’s territory, colored pins tracking locations where Dane Trask had supposedly been sighted. At least a dozen pins studded the map, scattered as much as a hundred miles apart.
“These are just the reports we thought were the most reliable,” Officer Hudson said. “We set aside all the obvious outliers, like the woman who said she saw an old man with a dog hitchhiking along the highway just outside the entrance to Curecanti Recreation Area. Or the guy who was sure he saw a man disguised as a woman in a café near the lake.”
“It doesn’t seem likely that one man, traveling on foot, would have covered so much territory in the month he’s been missing,” Lieutenant Dance said.
“Lotte and I tried tracking around some of the sightings,” Rand Knightbridge said, one hand on the head of his search and rescue dog. Lotte, a Belgian Malinois with black-tipped blond fur and brown eyes that looked as if they had been outlined in kohl, studied the map as intently as any of the human officers. “We didn’t find anything. Every trail went cold.”
“I put pressure on TDC to share any information they received from their reward hotline,” Officer Beck said. “They promised their full cooperation, but then they only turned over a handful of useless reports.”
“Maybe that’s all they’ve gotten,” Dance said.
“Or maybe they’re hoping to find Trask before we do,” Beck said. “They strike me as very anxious to have him contained.”
“Do you think he has some dirt on them?” Knightbridge asked.
“Don’t you?” Beck asked.
“Unless you believe knowing Trask’s motives for leaving will help us find him, let’s focus this discussion more productively,” Grant said. He picked up a pointer and indicated a spot on the national park’s southeastern section. “The largest concentration of sightings is in this area,” he said.
“It’s one of the accessible areas of the park to the public,” Dance said. “More people are going to equal more sightings or supposed sightings.”
“Why would Trask stay in such a populated area?” Hud asked. “He’s a former army ranger. Why not stay in the back country, and reduce the risk of discovery?”
“For a while someone—we assume Trask—was taking food from campers and leaving behind items as a form of payment,” Beck said. “The items left have been identified as belonging to Trask.”
“The last of those reports occurred ten days ago,” Beck said. “Has Trask moved on?”
“He strikes me as too smart to leave any traces behind unless he wants us to see them,” Hud said.
“I agree,” Grant said. Previously, Trask had left behind items that seemed to be deliberate messages for law enforcement, though Grant wasn’t sure they had interpreted all these communications correctly.
“We’ll concentrate today’s aerial search here.” Grant drew a circle an approximate fifty-mile radius from where Trask’s truck had crashed in the bottom of the Black Canyon of the Gunnison. “It’s unlikely Trask was in that truck when it was driven or pushed into the canyon, so we’ll focus our search above the canyon rim. We’ll stay away from the campgrounds for now.”
“The campground area has the most pins,” Hud said.
“We’ll be using FLIR to look for a heat signature of a human being,” Dance said. The Forward Looking Infrared goggles could be used day or night, and would allow them to see a man who wasn’t visible with the naked eye. “If we try that in the campground area, we’ll just spot every camper and their dog.”
“Trask might come into the campground for food,” Grant said. “But I’m betting he’s got a base set up somewhere close by but off the beaten path.”
“If he’s in a cave, you won’t spot him,” Knightbridge said.
“We may not spot him anyway,” Grant said. “He could be anywhere out here, or he might have left the country. We just don’t know. But we have to start somewhere.”
He turned away from the map. “Dance is with me. Beck and Knightbridge, I want you to check out the complaint we got from the Forest Service about traffic through the State Wildlife Area. A car theft ring was using that area last year as a place to stash vehicles until they could part them out or ship them to Mexico. I want to make sure they aren’t back in business. Hud, I want you to talk to Audra Trask. See if she’s heard anything from her dad, or remembered anything that might help us locate him. Reynolds, are you still working on that antiquities act violation?”
“Yes, sir. I’ve traced the stolen items to a buyer in Dallas. I have a phone conference set up with him and an agent in Texas this morning.” Theft of Native American and ancient peoples’ artifacts was an ongoing problem in part of their territory, Grant had learned.
“Good.” He checked the duty board. “Redhorse is off today and Reynolds is participating in Rigging for Rescue training over in Ouray. Spencer, you’ll need to hold down the fort here.”
“Yes, sir.”
He could have sent Spencer or anyone else on this surveillance mission. A stack of paperwork several inches thick required his attention and there were those who would have said doing the legwork on a case wasn’t the best use of his time. But he had taken a personal interest in this case, and he had never been one to spend all his time sitting behind his desk.
Or maybe it was only that he had a personal interest in Eve Shea. Finding Trask would set her mind at ease and maybe give the two of them a chance to move forward. Anything he could do to make that happen was time well spent in his book.
* * *
“YOU DO REALIZE that’s the third time you’ve watered that ivy, don’t you?”
Eve blinked at the puddle of water collecting at her feet. How long had she been standing here, drowning the poor plant? Embarrassed, she set aside the watering can and looked around for something to wipe up the spill.
“I’ve got it,” Sarah said, and began tearing off paper towels and using them to blot the spill. “Everything okay with you?”
“I’m fine,” Eve said, though in truth she was groggy from a lack of sleep. Her evening with Grant—and the kis
s that had ended the night—had left her tossing and turning. If only he were younger. If only he wasn’t already a father. If only, if only... When she had finally fallen asleep, she had been disturbed by dreams featuring the Ranger Brigade commander and Dane, facing off with swords in an arena full of spectators. By the time her alarm had gone off this morning, she had been anything but refreshed.
Sarah finished mopping up the water and stood. “Okay, I was going to keep quiet and not be my usual nosy self, but now I have to know. What happened on your date last night?”
It was a question she and Sarah had discussed dozens of times in the last six months. Eve had welcomed the chance to rehash and analyze her many dates.
But last night felt different. “It wasn’t a date,” she said. “He wanted to fill me in on some developments in the case.”
“Sure he did.” Sarah’s smile produced deep dimples at the corners of her mouth. “That’s why he showered and shaved and got dressed up to come see you in person instead of making a phone call.”
Eve didn’t try to argue. “We had a nice dinner at the Sherpa,” she said.
Sarah nodded. “Okay. Not fancy, but good. Did you enjoy it?”
“It was all right.” She stowed the watering can under the front counter and took out a roll of ribbon and scissors. With prom season just around the corner, it wouldn’t hurt to get a head start on making corsage bows.
“Did he kiss you?”
The scissors slipped and she narrowly missed nicking her wrist. She’d sliced the ribbon crookedly, and focused on evening it up. “That’s none of your business.”
“Which must mean yes.” Sarah didn’t sound offended. “And since you have never balked at sharing details with me before, I think this man must be someone special.”
“I hardly know him,” Eve protested.
“The heart knows before the mind does, sometimes.”
“Is that supposed to be profound?” Eve asked. “Because it doesn’t even make sense.”
Sarah smiled and disappeared into the back room. Eve glared after her. As much as she loved her friend, the woman could be insufferable.
The front door chimed and Cara Mead, dressed in a paisley wrap dress and chunky sandals, strolled in. “Cara, it’s good to see you,” Eve said, grateful as much for a reprieve from Sarah’s questions as she was to see her friend. “Did you come to talk about flowers for your wedding?” Yesterday, Cara had asked if Eve could provide the flowers for her wedding to Ranger Brigade officer Jason Beck in the fall.
“I don’t really have time today,” Cara said. “But we should definitely make time soon. I’m hoping you’ll have some ideas, because I’m drawing a blank.”
“It helps to consider the season and your budget. And you might try keeping a notebook where you jot down ideas of things you’ve seen or read about, and you want to copy for your wedding.”
Cara nodded. “I’ll ask Jason what he thinks, too.”
“Good idea.” Some grooms wanted to be more involved in weddings these days. “If you didn’t come to talk flowers, what else can I do for you?”
“I wanted to thank you for participating in our protest yesterday,” Cara said. “It really helped with our numbers. It looked good on TV, and the higher-ups like that.”
“I was glad to help,” Eve said.
“I’m hoping I can persuade you to do another favor for me,” Cara said, coming to stand across the front counter from Eve.
“Do you need a donation for a fundraiser?” Eve asked. “I could do that.”
“That’s very generous of you, but no,” Cara said. “I need a volunteer. Someone to go up to the mine with me to collect soil, water and rock samples for testing.”
“Is that legal?” Cara asked. “Isn’t that private property?”
“I own stock in TDC,” Cara said. “It was part of my compensation package. While the mine is private property, TDC is in charge of it while they’re doing mitigation. As a TDC stockholder, I think I have a right to check their work.”
“I’m not sure TDC would agree,” Eve said.
“Probably not.” She shrugged.
“What does Jason say?”
“I haven’t told him I plan to collect more samples,” she said. “I’m not sure he’d understand.”
“I don’t know,” Eve said.
“Please!” Cara leaned closer, her voice lower. “I can’t ask just anyone. It has to be someone I trust. And I really think this is important.”
“Of course protecting the environment is important, but—”
“I don’t mean for the environment,” Cara said. “I mean for Dane. I think he discovered something at the Mary Lee that wasn’t right, but when he tried to reveal his findings, his life was threatened and he had to go into hiding. If we can figure out what he found and go public with the information, Dane can come home.”
Eve stared at the younger woman. The whole proposal sounded like some wild fantasy. “Dane wasn’t the type to run from danger,” she said. Then again, he had never struck her as the type to be vague or play silly games. Which made his recent behavior all the more baffling.
“Dane is smart,” Cara said. “And resourceful. He’s doing what he believes he has to do.”
Then I wish he’d leave me out of it, Eve thought. But Cara had sparked her curiosity. “If I agree to help you, what do I have to do?” she asked.
“Go on a hike with me. I know a back way into the mine site. We’ll slip in, collect the samples and be gone in a matter of minutes.”
“Dane should have never involved either of us in this,” Eve said. “I wish he hadn’t.”
“But he did,” Cara said. “I think it’s because he knew we would help him.” She smiled. “Help me out and when he comes back home we’ll both chew him out about it.”
“Why are you so set on doing this?” Eve asked. “Do you think you’ll get your old job back when Dane returns? Do you even want that?”
“I just...” Cara shook her head, then took a deep breath and said, “My brother was murdered in Houston—years ago. His murderer was never found, and as bad as losing him was, knowing I couldn’t do anything to help him was worse. Now Dane is accused of all these things I don’t believe he did. If there’s something I can do to help him, I’m not going to pass up the chance.”
“I’m sorry about your brother,” Eve said. “But I can’t help you.” She would have done a lot for her former lover, but this was too much. And when she saw Dane again—and she had to believe she would—she would tell him so. Maybe they’d have a laugh about it.
Or maybe he would tell her she had let him down. It was a risk she was willing to take.
* * *
GRANT AND DANCE met the helicopter pilot at a crop-spraying outfit on the edge of town. When he wasn’t spraying farmers’ fields, the pilot subcontracted for the government for search and rescue, fire-spotting, and searches like this one.
“You’ve got a good clear day for this,” the pilot said as they readied for takeoff.
Grant said nothing, merely kept his focus straight ahead, intent on breathing evenly. He had never enjoyed flying, and the sensation of hovering over the earth in what he couldn’t help think of as a giant mechanical mosquito did nothing to ease his discomfort.
They soared out over rock canyons and alkaline washes, crossing into a landscape of pale green prairie dotted with clumps of dark green trees. Then suddenly, a dark gash split the earth below. The helicopter swung wide and they were over the canyon, a dark shape like a salamander winding beneath them, its legs side canyons, the thin sliver of the Gunnison River far below a silver stripe down its back.
“That’s a sight I never get tired of,” the pilot said in Grant’s headset. “We’re almost at your coordinates.”
“I’ve got the FLIR ready,” Dance said. “Do you want to take a look?”
“Bicyclist, along the park road,” Dance said, scanning with a pair of high-powered binoculars.
“Trask won’t be along the road,” Grant said. “Move out.”
The helicopter turned, chased by its own shadow across more barren terrain now. For ten minutes they flew in a broad arc, but the goggles—and Dance’s binoculars—registered no sign of life.
“Wait a minute, I’ve got something,” Dance said from his position behind the pilot. “Not a person, but something that shouldn’t be there. Can you bring us in a little lower?”
“Will do.”
Grant’s stomach lurched into his throat as the helicopter dropped. He pulled off the goggles and looked past the pilot as the aircraft tilted, giving him a view of what looked like a garbage dump.
“What is that?” Grant asked.
“Illegal dump site.” Dance lowered the binoculars, scowling. “Looks like construction waste. You can see the track the trucks hauling it have cut across the ground.” He indicated a route Grant had mistaken for a forest service road.
“Is that in the national park?” the pilot asked.
“It’s in the recreation area,” Dance said. “It wasn’t there the last time I was in this sector.”
“When was that?” Grant asked.
“Two and a half, maybe three months ago.”
“Want to take another look?” the pilot asked.
“Michael?” Grant asked Dance.
“I’ve got a good idea of where it’s located,” Dance said. “We’ll get more information on the ground.”
“Take us back to base,” Grant said. “I don’t think the man we’re looking for is here.” They would need a tremendous amount of luck to find someone who didn’t want to be found in this massive territory, but he had felt a flyover was worth a shot. Maybe Trask had seen them and realized they weren’t going to give up looking for him.