Up in Flames (30 page)

“What do you have?” Zane demanded.

“Coordinates. They pinged his phone and got something.” He sounded as excited as Zane felt. They both watched in tense silence as the screen brought up an aerial view of roads and landmarks.

“There,” Cal said, pointing to the screen as a green map came up, crisscrossed with black lines. There’s Ridgeline Road. We’re here. Emmett’s signal is . . .” His finger trailed across the screen. “Damn. It’s way over here. What the fuck is he doing way up there, fishing? Why would he bother to drag Sophie so far away when he could easily disappear twenty feet off the road?”

Zane leaned in closer, peering past Cal’s shoulder as he tried to form a mental picture of the area. Striker’s Road to the south, Deer Run to the north. Rocky slopes and thin forest in between, accessible only by an old fire trail.

The memory clicked into place with a punch to his gut, knocking him breathless. “That’s where he took her,” he croaked. “Let’s go.”

He had taken three strides toward his truck when Cal’s hand on his shoulder jerked him back. “Hold on,” he said. “We can’t waste time chasing into the wilderness just because you hate your brother. How can you be so sure he has her?”

“Trust me, he does.” He shook Cal’s hand loose, but the big cop didn’t move, waiting stubbornly for an answer. Zane realized he’d have to tell him. It wasn’t the kind of thing he was used to sharing with anyone, but for Sophie’s sake he had to. He needed Cal’s help.

“There’s a place up there, a flat clearing,” he said. “A lot of people use it for camping.”

“I’ve heard of it. So what?”

“Sophie and I were there once.” And the rest was private. But Cal still needed convincing. “Look, Emmett broke into my house a few days back and went through my things. I think he found some drawings I did ten years ago, sketches I made when we were up there.” He swallowed back bile at the thought of Emmett leering at them. “Pictures of Sophie.”

He could see comprehension register on Cal’s face as he realized the pictures were more intimate than Zane wanted to say. “He knows the place has significance for you.”

“Yes. This is all about hurting me, and he found the best way to do it.”

It was obvious to Zane, but he wasn’t sure Cal agreed until he gave one brisk nod. “We can use the old fire road.”

Zane didn’t have time to feel relief. “If it’s passable. We’ll still have to hike close to a mile after that.”

Cal was already heading for the Explorer. “Follow me until we have to go off the road,” he called over his shoulder. “Then you take the lead.”

They’d gone nearly half a mile before Sophie recognized the area, and realized what their destination was. She didn’t know how Emmett had found out about the night she and Zane had camped there, but the determined gleam in his eyes when she looked back at him, and the impatience in his stride, told her he knew he would somehow be defiling a place that was special to Zane. And a person.

Her stomach pitched at the thought. She hadn’t fooled herself about the danger she was in, but she’d refused to think she had no choice, that she had to be a willing victim. That hope was becoming more unrealistic with every step she took. Her feet left smears of blood from the cuts she’d suffered on sharp rocks. The pine cones were even worse. Running away was a ridiculous fantasy, one she’d been forced to give up ten yards into their hike.

But a sharp kick to his kneecaps wasn’t. It seemed to be the single option left. She only needed some level ground, and that lay dead ahead in the small clearing where they’d camped. Where Zane had first made love to her.

She’d be damned if she’d let Emmett leave her battered, broken body in that same spot for Zane to find.

Or let him kill her before ever getting to hear Zane admit that he loved her. Her heart knew the truth, but she desperately needed to hear the words, to feel them fill the hollow space inside her. She couldn’t let Emmett take that from her.

She could see the clearing between the last trees, even see the charred circle of stones from countless campfires. She listened closely to Emmett’s loud breaths behind her, judging the distance, and carefully preparing a pleading expression, the better to catch him off guard. She had to count on him expecting fear, not a fight.

She took ten steps into the clearing and stopped. Now. She turned.

Two darts hit her, one just above her left breast and the other below it. Before her brain could grasp the significance, electricity shook her like a rag doll, a jolting, agonizing current that dropped her in her tracks and left her writhing on the ground. It was over in seconds. She gasped and blinked watery eyes at the sky. Emmett’s grinning face came into view in time for her to see him raise the small box in his hand and move his thumb over it again.

“No!”

He didn’t listen.

Zane had wanted to jump Emmett as soon as he saw him, but Cal pulled him behind a large rock and whispered a harsh warning. Emmett would see him coming and have time to grab Sophie before he could get to them. They would wait for them to reach the clearing, using the thick bushes on the right side to hide their approach.

He saw the sense in it. Even curbed his anxiety enough to follow the plan, right up until the moment Sophie screamed. The ragged, high-pitched sound shook with fear and pain, and singed every nerve ending in his body. Screw the plan. He charged through a tangled mass of raspberry bushes just as a second jolt hit Sophie. Her body was jerking uncontrollably as he hit Emmett in a low tackle from behind.

They fell beside Sophie’s legs. Zane saw the Taser gun go flying, which took care of his first concern. The second was more personal—rising to his knees as Emmett struggled to do the same, he slugged his brother in the face. The crack of teeth was followed by the satisfying thud of Emmett’s face hitting the ground.

Zane pulled back his fist again, but it wasn’t necessary. Emmett lay slack jawed and unconscious, blood dribbling from his open mouth. Zane would gladly have hit him again anyway, but there was a more pressing concern.

He scrambled over Emmett’s prone body to kneel beside Sophie. She pushed herself up weakly with one arm, grimacing in pain. “Zane,” she breathed, surprise and confusion mixed together as she blinked at him.

“Don’t move, baby. You’re okay now.” He tried to believe it, even as his stomach sickened at the red mark on her jaw and the already darkening bruise below her eye. Maybe it wasn’t too late to kill Emmett.

Her gaze dropped to the barbs that pinned her shirt to her chest. Small spots of blood marked where they’d bitten into her flesh, the wires still trailing across the ground to the Taser gun. Her expression darkened with rage, and her hand went to one of the wires.

“No, sweetheart, don’t touch it. We’ll take you straight to the hospital—”

She didn’t listen, giving a hard yank. The barb flew out and Zane paled at her gasp of pain. “Jesus, Sophie! Those things are like little fishhooks. That’s why I asked you to wait—”

He broke off in shock as he realized she’d grabbed the second wire. Teeth gritted against the pain, she jerked it. The metal tube flew, bouncing off his arm. He picked it up in wonder, a slender bullet-shaped tube with a barbed needle sticking from the end like a miniature harpoon. A needle dipped in blood.

Sophie sat with her eyes squeezed shut, breathing in deep, chest-heaving gulps as tears slowly leaked onto her cheeks. A sudden ache clamped around his heart at the sight, tightening like vice grips. In a strangled voice he uttered, “Holy Christ, Sophie,” and gathered her in his arms, holding her close.

It had taken only seconds, but seemed to drain the last bit of fight from her. She sagged against him, burrowing her face against his neck, crying softly as he rocked her. Her tears shook him as much as her cuts and bruises, and he held her tightly, not sure if he was trying to soothe himself or her. It didn’t matter. He stroked her hair as he rocked and tried not to think about what might have happened if he’d arrived a minute later.

He barely heard a soft scrape behind him. Didn’t care, either, unless Emmett needed to be knocked out again. He’d do that with a vengeance.

“Drop it! Police!”

Cal. At his yell, Sophie merely stirred groggily against his shoulder, but Zane jerked his head up. Thirty feet away, Cal stood with his legs braced and gun drawn, pointed directly at him. His mind flashed on to the cop at the Blackstone who’d faced him with the same aggressive stance, as fear ripped through his gut. But not fear of Cal.

“Zane! Get down!”

He didn’t hesitate. Protecting Sophie as best he could with his arms and body, he dived and rolled. At what seemed like the same instant, a single shot cracked out, abrupt and loud. A muted echo bounced back from the top of Two Bears Mountain, the only sound in a world gone suddenly, eerily still.

Zane turned his head. Five feet away, Emmett swayed on his knees, his raised arms still gripping a knife while his sightless gaze stared at Zane. The neat hole in his chest hardly bled. Then the knife slipped from his fingers and, like a marionette cut loose from its strings, his body went slack, crumpling to the ground.

Zane hugged Sophie close as he watched Cal walk to Emmett’s body, kick the knife away, then stoop and lay two fingers against his neck. Cal looked up, regret pulling his mouth into a tight line. “I’m sorry, Zane.”

He glanced at his brother’s body, then held Cal’s eyes, calm and steady. “I’m not.” Then he turned away, kissing Sophie’s forehead and stroking her hair. He never looked back.

20

I
t had been
two days since she’d been terrified and captive at the hands of Emmett Thorson, and Sophie couldn’t help smiling at everything and nothing. At life.

Feeling safe in her own apartment again was a relief. Stopping by the Dairy Delight on the way there was an extra treat, a celebration for not having to constantly watch her back. For not needing to hide from life.

At least, that’s how she saw it. Zane didn’t seem to agree.

“If you want ice cream, we can stop at the store for a carton.”

“That’s not the same thing,” she said. “Come on, be impulsive. We both need to celebrate our freedom.”

His mouth tightened, but he didn’t argue, pulling into the parking lot. She took his hand as they walked to the order window, barely resisting the urge to swing their joined arms in joyous arcs because life felt so damn perfect. She had her freedom and she had Zane, with no barriers left between them. It didn’t get any better.

The air carried the first nip of fall, but people still lounged on the picnic tables in front of the small store, or leaned against car bumpers while licking their double-dip cones. Several gazes locked on to them as they approached the store, the usual people watching that was part of the entertainment at the B-Pass Dairy Delight.

“I’m tellin’ ya, something’s wrong with the legal system when they let murderers go free,” a man said, too loud to not have intended it to be overheard.

The smile fell from her face. She turned to see who had spoken, but Zane tugged her forward. “Leave it alone,” he muttered.

She hesitated, then decided he was right. She didn’t want to ruin her perfect day by arguing with an idiot. She kept walking, eyes forward.

“Thorson! You got some nerve coming here.” A different man’s voice.

Sophie’s heart rate shot up along with her blood pressure. She twisted her hand free of Zane’s and spun around, aiming a glare at two couples standing beside a green SUV. The men glared back. Zane stopped, too, but laid a firm hand on her shoulder. He stepped in front of her, facing the two men. “You got a problem, take it up with the police,” he told them. He snapped it out cleanly, but with more civility than she would have been able to manage.

He turned, pulling Sophie against his side and taking her with him.

“Hey! Screw the police, I’m talking to you, Thorson! Or do you hide behind women when you aren’t killing them?”

Zane halted abruptly enough to make her glance up in surprise. The muscles in his chest and arm went rock hard with tension, and for a fleeting second she saw his eyes close in pained resignation before he opened them with a stare gone hard and cold. He turned slowly, one arm holding her back as he stood between her and the two couples. Even from behind she could sense the temper radiating off him, controlled but on the verge of snapping. A family group at one of the picnic tables lowered their cones to watch.

Ten seconds ago she’d wanted to stand up to the two men and enlighten them about civil liberties and social niceties. Now, seeing the glint of increased interest on their faces as Zane faced them and the growing audience at the picnic area, she was more inclined to back off and take Zane up on that offer to stop at the supermarket. This could blow up, big, and Zane would be right back in jail.

She touched his back. “Zane . . .”

He didn’t seem to notice. “It’s a free country,” he growled at the men. “And this is public property. Anyone’s allowed here.” He dropped his voice so no one at the picnic tables could hear. “Even moronic assholes like you. It’s irritating, but I’ve learned to live with it.”

“Jerk,” one of the women muttered, presumably referring to Zane. But she edged around the bumper, putting the corner of the vehicle between her and the men. The other woman stared at Zane in petrified silence, as if afraid of what he might do next. Sophie knew the feeling.

“Zane . . . ,” she tried again.

“Free for some of us,” the first man taunted. “But not you, Thorson. Not much longer. You’re going down. Enjoy your freedom while you can, because pretty soon you’ll be locked up for good, where you belong. Maybe they’ll give you a cell next to dear old dad.”

The man’s friend agreed loudly, and one of the women laughed nervously. Sophie barely heard it, her taut nerves making zinging sounds in her head, as if they’d reached the breaking point.

Zane didn’t move. Not one twitch, not even when she tugged on his shirt. She stepped around to see his face, and didn’t feel reassured by his clenched jaw and narrowed eyes.

“Zane!” She said it loudly, gripping his forearm at the same time. His gaze slowly found hers. “I changed my mind. Let’s go.” She threw a disgusted look at the two men, the most she dared do. “I’ve lost my appetite.”

Muscles bunched beneath her hand, and she imagined the force he was exerting to make his mind switch gears. “Come on,” she prodded, tugging him toward the pickup. Only his arm moved. She waited several seconds as his eyes cleared and a deep breath moved his chest. “Take me home,” she said, softer now. She slipped her hand into his and squeezed. “Please,” she whispered.

He flicked a look at the two men, then nodded at her. She held his hand tightly as they walked back to the truck, tuning out the jeers from the two men, intent only on keeping Zane moving. But he walked without hesitation, opening her door before going around to get behind the wheel. Without a word, he pulled out of the lot and turned toward her apartment.

The drive took five minutes. Neither of them spoke.

Sophie broke the awkward silence as Zane put the truck in park. “I really did lose my appetite for ice cream,” she said, smiling self-consciously. “But I think there’s some cake in the freezer, and I have some pretty good coffee.”

“I’m not coming in, Sophie.”

It sounded so final a tiny chill ran down her back. “Why not? I thought we were going to watch a movie.” And more. It had only been a couple of days since she’d been in his bed, but it felt like a lifetime.

He turned toward her, and her heart dropped to her stomach at the shuttered look in his eyes. “We can’t pretend anything’s changed. I may not be in jail, but I’m still charged with murder, and they still have DNA evidence that places me with the victim. A woman I denied meeting. That guy at the Dairy Delight was right, Sophie. I’m going to end up in prison.”

Her throat closed, clogged by both anger and fear, and she swallowed hard to clear it. “Don’t talk like it’s hopeless!” she said, furious not only at his attitude, but that she knew how close it was to being true. “I’m not giving up.”

A sad smile touched his lips. “I know better than to ask you to. I’m just being realistic.”

She wouldn’t argue it; it was too depressing. So was what she had to say, but it was the truth, no matter how agonizing. “Then doesn’t that make our time together all the more precious?”

“It makes it dangerous. For you.”

Anger crept in. “Don’t give me that. There’s no danger; Emmett’s dead.”

Annoyance flickered in his eyes, and she was glad to see some emotion other than that infuriating look of defeat and resignation. “Sophie, I’m the one who’s putting you in danger. What you saw at the Dairy Delight is just a sample of what you’ll face every day in this town.”

“You think I care what ignorant bigots think?”

“
I
care, Sophie. I care how people treat you, and that was just a small sample. Being with me will also affect the job you get. Or can’t get. It will affect where you shop, where you eat, what you do in your free time. That’s my reality, but it doesn’t have to be yours.”

“I’d say that’s my choice to make.”

“I’m taking it out of your hands. I’m standing up for something I believe in—isn’t that what you wanted me to do?”

“I wanted you to stand up for yourself! To fight for yourself!”

The defeat on his face was painful to see. “There’s nothing to fight for, Sophie. I’m a murder suspect with no defense who’s most likely going to prison. But I will fight for
you
, because you were right. I love you.”

She’d wanted to hear it so badly it hurt, and it didn’t seem fair that hearing it now hurt even worse. “You love me, so you’re leaving me?” she said, nearly choking on the bitter words. “It’s a bad cliché, Zane.”

“It’s our reality.” He leaned close, lifting a hand to her face. She closed her eyes at the gentle stroke of his fingers along her jaw, opening them when he tilted her head up. “I do love you,” he repeated, his voice hoarse with emotion. “I always will. But I will never be the right man for you, not in this town.”

“Then we’ll leave! Find a new town.”

“I have to stand trial first, Sophie. And I don’t think I’ll be free to go anyplace after that.”

She stared, stunned, not knowing how to react. Then because there was nothing left to do, she got out of the truck. He drove away without looking back. She got all the way inside her apartment before the first angry tears clouded her vision.

Zane looked up as the police cruiser pulled up in front of the Natural Designs office, half amazed that a visit from the B-Pass police no longer raised the hackles on his neck. Not that it should—what more could they do to him? They’d put together their case and just had to wait for the trial to lock him away for good.

Cal got out and strolled through the open gate into the equipment yard. At least one member of the police force wasn’t intent on convicting him. Zane put down his wrench and wiped his hands.

“Problems with the loader?” Cal asked in greeting.

“No, just maintenance. Gotta be ready if a job comes in.” Or a buyer. Everything was going up for sale this week. Even pleading guilty would rack up more legal bills than he could manage, and he’d need whatever cash he could scrape together. Besides, what good was a backhoe loader once he was in prison?

Cal nodded, probably thinking the same thing but too polite to say it. Cal wasn’t half bad.

“I’ve been talking to the lead detective on your case,” Cal said. “Told him about Rena hanging out at the Moosehead and being free with her affection. He thinks it might be worth tracking some of those guys down, checking their alibis.”

It meant Cal not only believed Zane, he was working to convince other cops that their case might not be closed. It was more than he’d expected and he didn’t know what to say, especially since he doubted they could find anything before he told his lawyer to enter the guilty plea. He settled for, “Thanks.”

It felt odd to have the police on his side. It also felt good.

Cal tipped his head toward the loader. “You got a radio on that thing?”

“No. Wouldn’t be able to hear it.” It made him think of Sophie and how she’d wanted to play the “Blue Danube” waltz, probably just to piss him off. He smiled, then censored the memory. He tried not to think of Sophie. There was no point in torturing himself.

Cal wasn’t smiling. In fact, he looked uncomfortable. Zane waited, knowing he’d been working up to saying whatever was on his mind.

“I’ve got some names already,” he said. “And I’ll probably get more, so there’s a chance we’ll find a suspect. Or someone who knows something. But if we don’t . . .” He paused as if hating to say it. “It won’t be much help to your case. You’re still the only one we can put with Rena shortly before she died.”

He nodded, working on accepting his fate. “What about those other hairs they found on her body?”

“There’s no match in the system. All that means is whoever it is doesn’t have a record.”

That ruled out Emmett. “Didn’t they do a DNA profile on Reznick?”

“He’s going in to give a sample tomorrow. His lawyer raised hell, so who knows, maybe he has something to hide.”

“Maybe.” He wanted to hope so; Sophie had been sure Reznick was their guy. “Did they search his studio yet?”

“He’s fighting that warrant even harder than the DNA sample, but we’ll get it. In the meantime, I’ve asked around a bit and found a couple of actresses who’ve worked on films there. Well, they’re a waitress and a hotel concierge, but they have aspirations.”

He was surprised Cal had already been working on his behalf. “They worked on monster flicks? With giant insects?”

“No.” A hint of a smile touched Cal’s mouth. “Porn.”

“What?”

“Those’re the low-budget productions Reznick’s shooting back there. Probably why he’s in no hurry to have the place searched until he gets rid of his props. Might not make him too popular around here.”

Another scandal—Barringer’s Pass would love it, but it didn’t help him any. “He could still be doing the alien movies there.”

“Could be. We’ll find out.” He slapped Zane on the shoulder, surprising him so much with the good-buddy gesture that he had to catch his balance. “Don’t give up. If Reznick is our killer—and I think there’s a good chance he is—we’ll prove it.”

“Thanks,” he said, then added his name. “Cal.” As if they were friends. Surprisingly, it felt like they were.

For the first time in his life, he dared to believe the cops were on his side.

Too bad it had come too late to do him any good.