Tres Leches Cupcakes (32 page)

A gust of wind blew around the rocks, raising goose bumps on Sadie’s arms and making her shiver. She rubbed her upper arms in an attempt to warm herself up, but the coldness came from more than the night. She waited for him to speak again, but he didn’t, content to slowly smoke his cigarette instead.

“It’s a shame, really,” the Cowboy said after nearly a minute had drawn out between them. “Getting rid of such fiery women as you and Miss Margo. The world could use a little more temper, if you ask me, especially in the lady folk.”

“Then don’t kill me,” Sadie said dryly. His words about it being dangerous for her to know so much had hit home. Maybe she should have played dumb. But there was no reason for her to think they would keep her
alive.

He laughed then coughed, raising his cigarette-free hand to his mouth as he hacked. Horace was texting on his phone again, and suddenly Sadie had found her moment far sooner than she’d expected.

She bent down and rubbed her supposedly injured ankle, then picked up a rock, then two. Neither man noticed. She set her eyes on the creek bed that had led them here, then took a breath and made a run for it, throwing one rock at Horace as he looked up in surprise and the second one a moment later, aiming for his head.

He ducked and lost his balance on the rock he had been leaning against, but she wasn’t there to see the tumble. She thought she heard him swear as she ran past.

She was far more worried about the young, trim, Horace catching her than the smoking, potbellied Cowboy. As soon as she wasn’t in their view, she darted left through a narrow gap between the rock and a ponderosa pine, assuming they would expect her to run to the van. She focused all her attention directly ahead, running from one tree to one rock then setting her sights on a new goal. She could hear the two men yelling and hoped it would cover the sounds of her footsteps.

Soon, all she could hear was the drawing of her own ragged breath. Thank goodness for Caro’s fitness obsession and the weight loss she’d enjoyed because of it. Though she knew she wasn’t fast compared to some, by her own standards, she felt exceptionally quick.

She passed another tree and darted right, setting her sights on a new rock, then another tree. Point A to point B. Point B to point C. One at a time. Move as fast as possible. This wasn’t the first time she’d run through the mountains in an attempt to save her life, but this time her hands were free, and she had that past success to give her confidence. Confidence, however, was only one part of the equation. It was dark, there were
two
men behind her, and they
would
kill her if they caught up—of that she had no doubt.

She didn’t dare look back for fear that one misstep would bring on the sprained ankle she’d faked earlier. How far had she run? A hundred yards? Two hundred?

Not far enough.

One more tree,
she said, focusing her sights ahead as she felt her speed decreasing. The initial rush of adrenaline was wearing off, and she could feel the burning in her thighs and the bite of every rock beneath her feet—TOMS were not meant for running over rocks and sagebrush.

One more tree.
She was almost there. She could hear nothing from behind her. She passed the tree and searched for her next goal, and saw . . . nothing. She looked down at the same moment she pitched over the edge and couldn’t help but scream as the ground came at her.

Her flailing arms proved insufficient to catch her as she fell.

Chapter 31

Sadie was first aware of the rough stone beneath her fingers, followed quickly by the cold air and a growing sense of awareness, though her thoughts were splintered and frail.

Her head hurt. She was bleeding. She needed to hide until the panic of her body, and the memories of what had gotten her there, could combine and bring some sense. She felt as though she had been chased by a mountain lion—which she feared wasn’t far from the truth. Someone wanted her dead. Her whole body knew it.

She had to hide, even if she didn’t know why or who she was hiding from or even where she was. Wait, she did know where she was. She was in the desert. She’d been at the Balloon Fiesta in Albuquerque.

And she was hiding from the Cowboy. And the other man—what was his name?

“She went this way,” a voice said from somewhere above her.

Another voice answered—the Cowboy—but Sadie couldn’t hear what he said. Or were there three of them? Her head spun faster when she tried to stand. She rolled to her knees, then bit her tongue to keep from whimpering as shards of rock cut through her pants. She was so dizzy.

Within a few seconds, she realized she hadn’t rolled to the actual base of the hill; in fact, she was only about halfway down. A portion of rock jutted out of the slope, complete with a struggling cedar tree. The rock had broken her fall and possibly caused her loss of consciousness. One side of the rock allowed the continuation of the incline, which ended about twenty yards down in a dried-out riverbed. The other side of the hill leveled off slightly and disappeared into shadows that offered the most promising chance of shelter. She moved in that direction, careful not to fall the rest of the way down the hill.

A particularly sharp rock jabbed into her knee, sending pain through her leg and bringing tears to her eyes. She took a breath, held it, and forced herself forward. At any other time, the heavy shadows would have seemed ominous. Who knew what could be in the darkness? But whatever it was—snakes, scorpions, horrendously freaky spiders intent on scaring her to death before the venom could do the job—it couldn’t be worse than the Cowboy and his henchman.

For a moment she thought she saw a cave ahead, but quickly realized it was just rocks set against one another with a space in between. But it was enough to create an area of almost complete darkness amid the shadows of nightfall. She squeezed herself between two rocks. The air was colder by the stones, but they made her feel protected and hidden. She didn’t know how much more ground she could cover. Her head was killing her.

She told herself she was safe, and focused on her breathing until she didn’t feel like she was sucking air through a straw any longer. Now and then she’d hear a word carried to her on the wind. She’d hold her breath all over again, willing them not to come closer.

At one point she heard movement just beyond her rocks; she sat very still and breathed as quietly as she could. The person, or animal for all she knew, moved away. She pulled her arms inside her shirt and hugged her knees to her chest as best she could, holding her body tightly as she began to shiver. How cold would it get tonight? If they were still looking for her come morning, they’d surely discover her hiding place. What were her options? Was there no hope?

There was always hope.

She tried very hard to believe it. She
had
to believe it.

“I don’t see any sign of her.”

Sadie froze, and the name Horace came to mind. Was that his name? He wasn’t far away. She pulled her legs even closer to her body.

A voice answered him, but she couldn’t make out the words.

“Even with flashlights we’d have a hard time tracking her. Have you looked at this place?” He was close, less than ten yards away, she guessed. Would the moonlight reflect off her clothing? Off the silver-gray streaks in her hair?

Another answer she couldn’t hear.

“Wait,” Horace said. “There’s . . . there’s a cliff at the bottom of this hill and . . .” She heard his footsteps; was he coming closer? “There’s at least a thirty-foot drop. No way she survived that fall.”

“You sure she came this way?” She could barely hear the Cowboy’s words. He must be at the top of the hill. Did it really end in a cliff instead of the arroyo she thought she’d seen? Had she so narrowly escaped death twice in one night?

“I heard the scream and the fall, then nothing,” Horace said. “We’ll come back for her in the morning—assuming the coyotes haven’t finished her off by then.” She heard him turn away but didn’t dare believe it.

“We ain’t leavin’ till we know she’s dead.”

“She’s dead,” Horace said, sounding angry. “They’re all dead, just the way you like ’em.”

“You watch your mouth!”

“Or what? You’ll kill me too? We’ve put up with an awful lot we never counted on, but there’s no way you could talk yourself out of that one.

“No one’s going to find her body before morning,” Horace continued. “And
Padre
says he needs us at the Fiesta. He wants us to . . .”

The voices drifted away. Sadie was so tense, she felt sure her muscles were turning to the same stone currently embracing her. She strained to hear an indication of . . . anything.

Finally she began to relax. But each ache and pain her anxiety had masked while on high-alert came back, and she groaned under her breath and tried to shift her position. Those men had brought her all the way out here, she’d seen their faces, they’d admitted to killing Margo and Langley. Why would they so quickly believe she was dead without any proof? It might be a trick.

She pulled her arms and legs in even tighter, though they protested, and she whimpered. She needed to conserve as much body heat as possible. She didn’t dare come out and risk being discovered. She wasn’t sure she could muster up the adrenaline she’d need for another run should they be waiting for her. She dropped her head onto her knees and focused on remaining calm and warm. It was going to be a long night, but if her discomfort meant she would live to see another day, it would be a small price to pay.

Chapter 32

Sadie had to stay focused and awake even though her body wanted to sink into oblivion. She was more than tired. She was mentally and emotionally exhausted and overwhelmed. Teetering on the brink of panic for so long had worn through her reserves, and she found herself crying into her knees. For Margo. For Langley even. A fair amount of self-pity mingled with the tears as well. The self-pity, however, was a reminder of the escape she’d made—both escapes. One from the men who had kidnapped her, and the other from plummeting to her death. There had to be a reason for that, right? There must be purpose to her still being alive.

To keep from drifting off, she started whispering to herself, outlining everything she knew about anything that seemed the least bit related to Margo’s disappearance and Sadie’s eventual capture. There were so many details to track, and she wished she had a notebook she could write them down in to make sure she wasn’t missing anything.

Once she felt she’d verbalized everything she knew, she started putting the details together. Langley was Crossbones, and obviously he had some kind of a connection to the Standages, but Shel didn’t know that, despite his own connection to Ethan. Langley didn’t seem to have known about the bodies before Shel talked about them over too many beers. She didn’t think the Cowboy and Horace were working for Ethan—otherwise why would they be so threatened by her speaking to him at the Fiesta? Why would they be so curious as to what they’d talked about?

Margo had something Horace and the Cowboy wanted—or at least whoever hired them wanted it—but they hadn’t found it at Margo’s house. They were desperate enough to find it that they’d hunted down Sadie, thinking she had it. But she didn’t. She and Margo had only spent time together outside of work on Monday. One day. One hour, really. Why would anyone think that would create a relationship strong enough in Margo’s mind to trust Sadie with whatever it was Margo was supposedly hiding?

Unless Margo had hidden it from Sadie too.
Considering Margo’s past associations, maybe she knew the item wouldn’t be safe in her possession. The Cowboy had said Margo admitted to handing it off. But how would she have transferred this mystery item to Sadie without Sadie knowing? And what could the thing be? A computer disk full of incriminating information? Surveillance video? The item had to be of considerable value to draw so much attention.

They hadn’t driven in Sadie’s car, and Margo had only been to Sadie’s apartment once, and she’d been right there with Sadie the whole time. Margo hadn’t had an opportunity to hide anything. And Sadie had cleaned the room top to bottom just a couple of days ago and found nothing. Maybe Margo slipped the item into Sadie’s purse, but Sadie had reorganized her purse just last night and hadn’t found anything out of the ordinary. There simply was no opportunity for Margo to have handed anything off. Except . . .