Heroes In Uniform (311 page)

Lori
. And didn’t
that
just figure. A goddamn
woman
. This case had been out to get him from the first.
Grizzly bear woman
. He’d just been wrong about which one.

He took a deep breath. Could it really be Lori?

“How long have you known about this?” he asked.

A look of betrayal filled her eyes. “I found out this morning. By accident. I've been trying to tell you all through lunch.”

“Surprised you even noticed I was there,” he mumbled, then looked over at her quick gasp.

“
Me
notice?” She exhaled sharply and turned to face the truck bed. “I'm trying to help, and all I get is insults. Well, fuck you.” She whirled and started marching back toward the house.

Cooper jerked the brim of his Stetson further down over his eyes, debated for two seconds, then went after her. He grabbed her arm and pulled her to a stop. “All right. I'm sorry. Tell me about Lori. Please.”

She didn’t turn around, and it took her so long to reply, he didn't think she would.

But finally, she took a shuddering breath, and said, “She was arguing with a man in the alley behind the Caf. Talking about cutting something off a bear, and making profits, and how the buyers are clamoring for more.”

He dropped Maggie’s arm and clenched his fists. “Tell me everything. Word for word.”

Barely Dangerous: Chapter One Hundred and Eight

Cooper leaned into a wall of the hallway next to the Caf’s kitchen, concealing himself as best he could. The short order cook stood ten feet away working the grill in the narrow galley kitchen. If anyone came to the back door, from either inside or out, he was blown.

He waited patiently, stuck precariously at the end of a set of industrial steel shelves across from the Caf's walk-in freezer, which was the object of this foray into foolishness.

At last, the cook slid two cheeseburgers—animal style—and a large order of home fries onto plates, then walked over to the pass-through, calling, “Order up!” to Lori.

Cooper skimmed across the kitchen, eased open the freezer door, and slipped inside. Wedging a piece of cardboard between the lock and the strike plate, he closed the massive door and was instantly gripped by the sub-zero temperature.

Holy shit
. He'd have to make this fast, or freeze solid in his thin summer clothing.

Swiftly and methodically, he lifted the lid of every box on every shelf. About mid-way through the search he started shivering, and toward the end, his teeth were clattering so loudly he was afraid the cook might hear. His hands were getting so cold they were now nearly useless.

He glanced around impatiently. There
had
to be some evidence here somewhere. Unless Maggie had gotten it all wrong. Could she have deliberately misled him?

No. Her details had been too clear and consistent.

He blew icy breath into his cupped fists, taking a last look around before he turned into a life-sized ice cube. A box of take-out cartons he'd skipped over earlier suddenly caught his eye.
Odd
. He hurried over to them. They were already put together. And full.

He opened one and looked in.

Oh, yeah. You are so fucking busted
.

Quickly, he replaced the carton as he'd found it, and went over to the freezer door. This was going to be the tricky part.

Carefully, he massaged it open a crack and peered out. The cook was at the grill again, showing no signs of moving any time soon. Coop clenched his teeth viciously to keep their chattering from giving him away.
He had to get out of there
. He wouldn't last much longer. Already, he had lost feeling nearly to his elbows and knees.

Taking a slow, warm breath through the crack in the door, he finessed it wider and wider until he could slide through. Praying the cook would keep his back turned for just one more minute because if Coop stopped now he'd collapse into a shivering heap of frozen mush on the floor. He slipped out, eased the freezer closed with useless fingers, and darted out through the back screen door.

If by darted he meant lumbered like Bigfoot through a stream of molasses.

Awkwardly, he slipped around the fence to the neighboring store where he'd parked the Indian, and dropped onto the stoop, burying his hands in his armpits and bending his chest to his knees until the icicles in his lungs melted.

Maggie had been right. Lori was the distributor of the poached bear parts. Using take-out cartons to deliver them was pretty ingenious. In hindsight, he now recalled seeing number of slick-looking take-out customers roll up to the Caf over the past few weeks.

He shook out the final chills from his stinging hands. Who was doing the actual killing, though? Not Lori.

Suspects flowed through his brain along with sun-warmed blood. Her husband, Dylan, and boyfriend, Doug, were the most likely, Coop finally decided. He thought briefly about the boot print he may have recognized at the Wilkins place earlier. Doug was definitely moving toward the top of the list.

Coop gingerly mounted the Indian and flexed his fingers in his gloves one last time before kicking on the engine. He had to call Jack and arrange for warrants and the rest of the paperwork to wind up the case. He pulled out his cell phone. Afterward, he’d grab a booth and sit in the Caf for a while. See what turned up.

Strapping on his helmet, it hit him. He was tying up the poaching case.

He'd be gone soon. Away from Marigold and back to Sacramento. Leaving the peace and tranquility of the Trinity forest, but also the headache of this frustrating case.

And walking away from the woman he loved.

Would he be abandoning his child, too? A child he wanted more than anything to watch growing large inside her...?

The pain in his heart was nearly unbearable.

Solve the case and get the girl, too?

Not this time,
amigo
.

Barely Dangerous: Chapter One Hundred and Nine

Maggie pulled the truck off the highway onto the tower service road. After she'd told Cooper about Lori, he had ridden off full bore toward town on the Indian. She had rejoined Wilkins and the others on the deck for another hour or so, then had driven around the mountains, thinking, for a long time before she finally ended up back here at the turnoff to Tower Eight.

Her heart was officially broken.

There was nothing to do except forget Cooper. Ignore her feelings. Purge his sweet loving from her memory.

Curl up and die
.

With her quivering chin held high, she turned the truck onto the gravel road. A gray compact crunched past going in the opposite direction. The men in the car looked familiar. One wore a silver Raiders baseball cap. The guy from the bar last night? The other man had a long, thin ponytail. She nodded a distracted greeting, and gunned the truck up the mountain, spraying gravel onto the compact.

Sorry about that
.

When she got to the top of the lookout tower, she went straight onto the catwalk and looked down at Cooper's camp. The Indian was parked below, but she couldn't see him anywhere. She wondered what he was doing. Would he break camp, now that he knew who the poacher was? She figured it wouldn't take more than a day or two to wrap up the case. And then he'd be gone for good.

Out of her life.

She continued to gaze over the serene mountain landscape, so solid and imperturbable, drawing on its strength to calm her in her despair.

Reluctantly, she turned back to the cab door, and went in.

Frowning, her eyes settled on the dresser. The drawers gaped open. Her freshly laundered clothes and her few possessions lay scattered all over the floor and bed.

My God!
What the hell?

She gave a little cry and ran over to the dresser. Her gun! It was gone. Instinctively, she reached down to her boot and checked her knife, grateful for her habit of carrying it there. She should have listened to Dinny and started carrying her gun, too.

A quick survey of the rest of the cab told her the culprit’s search had been thorough. But by whom? And for what?

Had Whitney found her? Had they been searching for something to confirm her identity before they killed her? Or was it the poachers, searching for the evidence she’d found at their kill site...?

She hurried to the Forest Service two-way radio and clicked it on.
Nothing
. With a curse, she realized the back panel hung off, suspended by one screw. Whoever had ransacked the cab and taken her gun had also disabled the radio. She whipped out her cell phone. No bars, as usual.

Damn it!

Panic squeezed her chest, rising like a flash flood.

My God, what should she do?

Wolf! He would help her.

She flew to the door. Suddenly, she caught sight of the two men from the gray compact slinking up the side of the service road, on foot. The way they ran, hunched over, hugging the forest edge, told her this was no social call.

Her skin crawled.

The ponytailed man turned his head to speak to the other, flipping his hair over his shoulder. Gasping, she realized why he looked familiar. He was the man from the ridge above the rattlesnakes! No doubt these were the culprits who’d ransacked the tower.

Oh. My. God
. And now they were coming back for
her
.

Barely Dangerous: Chapter One Hundred and Ten

Maggie didn't have time to think.
She had to hide
.

But where?

She rushed to the center of the cab. In terror, she searched for a hiding place. It was no use. The two men would easily find her, no matter where she hid. In desperation, she looked upward.

Please, God, help me...

Wait!

Maybe not!

Quick as a flash, she hopped up on the kitchen counter. Her head was a foot below the ceiling as she pushed up on the panel leading to the roof. Careful not to knock anything over with her boots, she gripped the frame around the opening and took a deep breath.

She had never been any good at chin-ups. She was scared to death she wouldn't be able to pull herself up to the roof.

She stooped down to check the road, and saw the men closing in on the final slope to the tower.
Oh, God
. She bent her knees and jumped as high as she could, hoisting herself up with her arms at the same time. For an endless moment she dangled precariously by her waist on the edge of the opening, struggling to gain purchase on the shingled roof with her hands. She felt herself slipping backward, down toward the cab and certain discovery.

Scratching at the layer of gravel covering the slightly pitched roof, she stretched out with all her might to grasp the anchoring leg of the rain catch-tank. She latched on, and pulled. Slowly, she dragged herself up out of the cab.

Breath ragged, she threw the panel back in place and seated it properly. She looked up at the rain catch-tank. A sob of relief squeezed past the thick lump in her throat. It could work...

The men below were clattering at top speed up the tower stairs. She lifted the lattice grate from the top of the water tank, wrenched herself up over the side, and hopped into the sun-warmed water. She sank up to her neck. Sitting on the pitted wooden floor of the cistern, she willed the water to stop sloshing. By the time the men burst through the cab door, the tank lay as quiet as a tomb.

A string of epithets filtered up through the roof, echoing hollowly in the tank before continuing out into the mountain air. She shut her eyes tight, not even daring to breathe. Her boot heels dug into the backs of her thighs, and she swore inwardly. Why hadn’t she taken them off? No way she could run in these water-filled boots.

She just prayed she'd live long enough to be able to run.

She heard one of the men step out onto the catwalk. “Shit. Not here, either,” he yelled to the one inside. “
Damn bitch
. I'm tired of her playing us for fools. And you know what Whitney said last night.”

Maggie's heart beat triple-time, and her hands began to shake under the water. Well, that answered that question.

Oh, God. I'm dead. I am so dead.

As the other man moved around inside the cab, she could hear cupboards opening and slamming, and furniture being tossed around. “Yeah. He said she has to be alone when we do it,” came his muffled voice. “Trouble is, there's always been someone around. That new boyfriend of hers was piss poor timing.”

“Fuck him. I'm not about to risk my ass waiting around anymore. The boss wants her taken care of. Boyfriend gets in the way, tough shit for him.”

Maggie's heart slammed against her chest and she stifled a whimper. No! Not Cooper!
This was her worst nightmare
. What she’d been afraid of since day one. That he’d be hurt because of her.

She wouldn't let them have him! She would give herself up right now rather than see him hurt.

“I'll bet the bitch is down there all cozy with him right now. Let's go.” Sneering laughter floated up as they jogged down the stairs. Standing slowly up in the tank so she could lift the grate and peer cautiously over the edge, she watched them hurry across the clearing to the path down to Cooper’s camp. Should she shout after them, to warn him?

No. It would be suicide. And he wasn't there, anyway.

Where was he?

She had to find some way of warning him before he came back.

Climbing gingerly out of the tank, she dropped back down into the cab, leaving streams and puddles of water in her wake. As she attempted to peel herself out of her sodden dress, she nervously scanned the area around the lake for Cooper.

She caught sight of him striding out of the forest toward his camp.

No!

She gave up on the dress and flew to the telescope, and trained it on the campsite. Horrified, she watched as the man with the Raiders cap quickly hid behind a tree. The ponytailed man casually greeted Cooper...who walked unsuspectingly into the clearing.

Barely Dangerous: Chapter One Hundred and Eleven