Lone Rider (12 page)

She shook her head as if realizing how stupid a question that had been.

“Sarah.” He reached for her, but she sidestepped away from him.

“You should stay clear of me,” she said in a small, frightened voice. “I don't know who I am.”

“
I
know who you are,” he said, even though he was realizing more and more that it might not be true.

“I need to go,” she said as she started up the bank.

“Sarah,” he called after her, but she kept moving without turning around. He thought about going after her, but he had a feeling she might be right. Staying clear of her was the smartest thing he could do for a variety of reasons. But it was one of the hardest things he had ever done.

Right now, though, it was the only thing he could do.

* * *

S
HERIFF
F
RANK
C
URRY
glanced up in surprise to see a local outfitter standing in his doorway. His mind had been miles away. Ever since Sarah Hamilton had returned from the grave, his thoughts were often on her. He'd turned the investigation over to the FBI, but they hadn't been concerned. That didn't keep him from worrying.

“John,” Frank said and got to his feet to extend a hand. John Cole had taken him down the Yellowstone River in his drift boat last summer for some of the best trout fishing Frank had ever experienced. John spent his summers guiding on the river and his winters guiding in the mountains.

“Frank, I was at one of my fall camps, the one on the Wilsall side of the Crazies, and someone had broken into my supplies and tack I keep up there. I was thinking it might be that escaped fugitive I'd seen on TV since one of my neighbor's horses was stolen, as well. The horse came out of the mountains a few days ago in bad shape. It had one of my stolen saddles on it.”

Raymond Spencer. Frank had heard that deputies on the other side of the mountains had been searching the area but had stopped when there'd been a sighting of Spencer in Butte. A few days later, there was another sighting in Reno. The general consensus was that he'd left the area.

“Thanks for letting me know,” the sheriff said. “I'll contact the Livingston sheriff's office. Any idea when this break-in might have taken place?”

John shook his head. “That rain a few nights ago wiped out any tracks. The camp and shack aren't far into the mountains. I heard he was from the area, so he might have known about it and is now several states away.”

Frank nodded. “Or he could still be in the Crazies.” He remembered a case years ago in which a man and his son had hidden in the mountains for months without anyone being the wiser. Their mistake had been coming down far enough to look for a woman for his son.

“I'll be going back into the mountains to check on my high camp in the next few days,” John was saying. “I'll keep an eye out.”

He didn't need to tell John to be careful, but he did anyway.

“Bo Hamilton is in there. Jace Calder went looking for her. We haven't heard from either of them.” Even if Bo was on the run, Jace should have caught up with her by now.

“I'll keep an eye out for them, as well,” John said.

After John left, Frank put in a call to search and rescue, making sure everyone was ready to move out first thing in the morning.

As he hung up, he told himself there was a lot of country back in there. What were the chances the three of them would cross paths? Had already crossed paths?

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

E
MILY
'
S
LANDLADY
CAME
over and fixed the window and screen. “Is anything missing?” Ruby asked.

“Not that I know of. I didn't think to look.”

Ruby glanced up at that.

“I...” Why hadn't she thought to look? “I just thought it was kids. It's not like I have anything anyone would want to steal.”

“Kids?” Ruby studied her for a long moment. “It looks to me like the footprints were man-size, not kids.”

Emily said nothing because she could tell that her landlady thought it was some man she knew sneaking in.

“I'll have someone install steel grates on the windows tomorrow.”

She nodded. “Thank you.”

That night she let Jodie sleep in her bed, not that she slept much. Someone had been in the house. Her first thought and worse thought was that it might be Harrison.

She quickly checked the browser on her phone. On the prison site, she saw that according to their latest records, he was still behind bars. Emily reminded herself that her lawyer had assured her she would get a call before he got out.

She tried to relax, but it was hard with Jace up in the mountains, Bo still on the lam and someone having broken into her house. What next?

“There have been a few break-ins in the past few weeks in the neighborhood,” Ruby had said before she'd left. “Must have been that.”

Emily hoped that was all it had been. A break-in by someone looking for money or items to sell sounded better than someone breaking in looking for her. Or worse, her daughter.

It wasn't until she climbed into bed beside her daughter that she realized she'd been wrong. Something was missing.

She stared at the spot on her nightstand where she kept the photograph of her and Jodie. It was gone. She got up quickly, telling herself it must have gotten knocked down.

But when she knelt on the floor, it wasn't there. It wasn't anywhere.

Why would someone break into her house for a photograph of her and Jodie? Her heart leaped to her throat. Harrison was still locked up. He couldn't even know about Jodie, could he? Was it possible he thought Jodie was his?

As she climbed up on the bed, she felt a fissure of fear move through her. If he'd heard she'd had a baby...

She moved closer to her daughter, snuggling against her. What would Harrison do if he thought Jodie was his? Surely he wouldn't try to get one of his no-count friends to take her, would he?

* * *

“W
HAT
DID
HE
do now?” Russell demanded angrily when Sarah got into his pickup.

She shook her head. “Please, can we just go? I can't talk about it right now.”

He started the truck and pulled away from the stream. She saw him glance back. Buck was standing where she'd left him, looking as shell-shocked as she felt.

“Would you mind taking me to the sheriff's office?” she asked.

Russell shot her a look of both surprise and concern. “I'm not sure what happened, but I have to ask. Are you sure that's a good idea?”

“In this case, it is. He has some answers that I need.”

“Buckmaster told you that?” Russell asked in surprise. “You didn't mention what I talked to you about?”

“Brain wiping?” She let out a laugh. “All I need to do is mention that to Buck or the sheriff. Everyone already thinks I'm unhinged. If I started talking conspiracy theories and brain wiping...” She shook her head.

“Then what—”

“I can't talk about it right now.” She reached over and touched his hand. “I'm sorry.” All she could think about was what Buck had told her.
She'd been dropped by parachute from a plane?
That was impossible. She was terrified of heights. Wasn't she? She wasn't even sure where the thought had come from. Buck would know. Or would he?

Her head ached, and she felt sick to her stomach. Her last memory had been of giving birth to her twins who were now college graduates. All she knew of the days after that were what she'd been told. She'd asked herself dozens of times why she would have left her children to drive into the Yellowstone River in the middle of winter. How could she leave her babies? It was what the media had been demanding to know for months. They'd labeled her a bad mother, a head case and a liar.

Russell was convinced something had happened between her and Buck to make her so...desperate? Scared? Out of her mind that she would do something like that. She couldn't imagine it and thought of that woman as another Sarah Hamilton, certainly not her.

The drive into Big Timber didn't take long. Russell had remained silent, although she could tell he was worried. He didn't think she should talk to the sheriff. She knew he was only trying to protect her because, like her, he feared what was in her past, and he didn't even know about the latest.

What would he say when she told him? She hated to think. He was the one who'd suggested she not give the sheriff her DNA or her fingerprints when Frank Curry had asked. She knew it made her look guilty of something, but then again, wasn't there a good chance she
was
guilty of something?

What fifty-eight-year-old woman parachuted back into her husband's and children's lives after twenty-two years with only dark, frightening flashes of memory? A woman with dangerous secrets.

* * *

F
RANK
PUT
IN
a call to the Livingston sheriff's department, hoping he would hear that Raymond Spencer Jr. had been caught and was now behind bars. “Any word on Raymond Spencer?”

“Last seen in Reno, Nevada,” he told him.

“You have a positive identification on that sighting?”

“Why do you ask?”

Frank explained about the camp, the stolen horse and supplies, and the outfitter's concern Spencer was in the Crazies.

“Spencer
is
from that area, but a used-car dealer in Reno sold a car to a guy matching Spencer's description a week ago. I can't see any reason he would return to Montana with everybody and his brother looking for him, can you?”

Frank couldn't. But no one had picked up the car that the salesman had sold the man. Nor was there a positive ID on the buyer. He wished he was as sure that Spencer was miles from the Crazy Mountains as the sheriff in Livingston was. He remembered that Spencer's father, Raymond Jay Spencer Sr., had done time recently at Montana State Prison. He put in a call to the warden up there.

“What do you know about Raymond Spencer?” he asked.

The warden laughed. “A model prisoner. Served in the military as a sniper. Got in a bar fight and ended up killing a man with his bare hands. Last I heard he'd become one of those antigovernment survivalists. Why are you asking about him? Isn't it his son who's in trouble?”

“I thought his father might know where he was. A local outfitter said a neighbor's horse was stolen, he lost supplies and a saddle, and he thought he might have stumbled across Spencer's camp up in the Crazies.”

“Possible, I suppose. His father was one of those militia guys who lived off the grid. Apparently he took Spencer with him from the time the kid was a boy. Not sure where the mother was or if she was even in the picture.”

“They were from Wilsall, right?” Just on the other side of the Crazies.

“Which means he knows the area.”

It made sense that if Spencer needed to disappear, he would go to land that he knew in a place that he was least likely to be discovered. But what about the car he'd allegedly bought in Reno?

“You thinking of sending some men up in the mountains to look for him?” the Livingston sheriff asked.

“I'm worried because he is listed as a violent criminal and we have a young woman possibly lost up there in the mountains.”

* * *

“D
O
YOU
WANT
me to talk to the sheriff with you?” Russell asked Sarah as he pulled into the sheriff's department parking lot and killed the engine. He wished she'd tell him what had happened at the stream with the senator, but Sarah clearly wasn't talking. At least not yet.

“If you don't mind, I need to do this alone.”

He nodded, tempted to tell her he thought this was a mistake. But he had no right to tell her anything.

“Are you sure you don't mind waiting?” she asked as she opened her door and climbed out. “I'm sure one of the deputies can give me a ride—”

“I'll be here if you need me.” He watched her close the pickup door and hurry into the sheriff's department, all his instincts telling him he should stop her. But only one person could stop her, the only person she listened to. Buck, as she called the senator.

Russell swore under his breath, something he seldom did. The sheriff had wanted her DNA and fingerprints. That alone told him that Sarah was being investigated.

Why investigate her? Shouldn't they be looking into Senator Buckmaster Hamilton? The man had said something to her that had her scared. Was that the senator's plan, to make her look even more crazy than she'd already been portrayed? What if he was behind all of this?

* * *

B
O
DIDN
'
T
KNOW
how long she'd ridden. At some point, she thought she might have fallen asleep in the saddle, because she jolted upright as the horse stopped. Her hands went to the noose around her neck, terrified that she was about to be pulled from the saddle and dragged behind the horse.

She sensed the change in Ray even before she saw his expression. He stopped walking, cursing under his breath, as he pulled off a boot to look at the soles. Even from the back of the horse, she could see that he had a large hole. The boots also seemed too big for him as if he'd borrowed them from a man with larger feet. Or took them.

Realizing that was probably exactly what he'd done, she felt another shudder. Who knew what this man had done before he'd crossed paths with her? When he looked up, she saw the anger and frustration and that ever-present lust. The other times he hadn't acted on it. This time she could see things were different.

He kept his hard gaze on her as he pulled on his boots. She tried not to move, not to breathe, as he got to his feet and limped toward her.

When he touched her leg, she willed herself not to, but she flinched. He grabbed the rope around her neck and jerked it hard toward him, almost dragging her from the saddle. “Ya got a problem?” he demanded, studying her.

“Just tired.”

“Yeah? Ya rode all day while I walked.” He sounded bitter, anger lacing the edge of his words, meanness in his eyes.

Was he really trying to make her feel guilty because she rode today instead of him? It was her horse! She didn't want to be here. He was the one holding her prisoner. A spark of anger wove through her exhaustion, but she quickly smothered it before it could burst into words. The irony of the situation would be lost on Ray Spencer.

He dragged her off the horse. Her legs felt weak. She leaned against her horse as Ray removed the rope from her neck. Like her wrists where the rope had worn through the tape, the skin on her neck was chafed and sore from the rough sisal. All she'd had to eat all day was a few spoonfuls of canned beans earlier that morning and the piece of dried jerky he'd given her in the afternoon. She hated to think how far they'd traveled. All day she kept thinking he would stop. He had to be getting tired. At one point after the sun had set, she saw that he was limping badly.

But nothing had stopped him until the growing darkness had forced him to call it a day, apparently. She looked around. The sky over the trees was a dusky gray. Here in the branches of the pines, pockets of inky black spread toward them on a cold breeze as the air quickly cooled without the sun.

Where were they? All she knew was that she'd never been this far back into these mountains. She felt as if they'd left all civilization behind. No one would ever be able to find her back in here.

The thought brought tears to her eyes.

“Ya start blubberin' and so help me...” Ray raised a hand, and she quickly wiped at her tears as she stepped back from him. He was tired and cross, and she sensed that it would take very little for him to take it out on her.

* * *

T
IRED
OF
WALKING
, tired of waiting, just plain tired of everything, Ray glared at the woman. That plane had definitely been searching for
her
. If her father really
did
have a lot of money, then this could be a problem unless the woman was found—or completely disappeared and soon.

On top of that, his father, RayJay, was on his way. Ray couldn't help but worry. His old man would be angry about this. The last thing his father had said was to make sure he didn't cross paths with anyone.

RayJay was no fool. He might have even heard about the search for the woman. Ray realized it had been a mistake taking her. If he had let her go on without her seeing him, then there wouldn't be anyone looking for her. He'd covered his own trail, getting a former inmate friend who resembled him to take a trip to Reno. Everyone would think he was still in Reno. No one would know he was up here.

He cursed his impulsiveness in taking her. Maybe he should just have some fun with her, kill her, bury her body and send her horse off. Once her searchers found her horse, they would think she was thrown. They might look for her, but they would never find her. But they might find
him
.

He swore again. No matter what he did now, he couldn't keep searchers from the mountains. He hated to think how furious that was going to make his father. Worse, now that he had her, he didn't want to give Bo up. He sure as hell couldn't release her. She'd go straight to the cops.