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  Chapter Eleven

  The plastic bin sat on her bed, and Dory stood, hands on hips, chewing her bottom lip. What did you pack for in case of emergency? There were already two bins in the back of her Civic that held important papers and photos. Adrian was in his bedroom with orders to pack at least two changes of clothes, and then had to decide which were his most treasured toys. Good advice. She pulled open her dresser drawer that held folded jeans and shorts.

  She lugged the full bin to set next to the front door where the cat carrier and Tigger’s bag of food were ready. Adrian had strict orders not to let the cat out of the house so they wouldn’t have to look for him if they had to leave quickly. She kept an ear tuned to the radio and heard the announcement that all of Hangman’s Loss was now on voluntary evacuation status, with mandatory evacuation orders in effect for all areas south and east of the lake. A phone call from Emma had confirmed that she and Maddy were on their way to Bishop with their children, where they would stay with Maddy’s older sister, Jenny, and her family.

  Dory’s plan was to stay put with Adrian at their home for the time being. The fire was still a good distance away from her house, and many others were in more dire need of the space at the evacuation center than her and Adrian. Another evacuation center was being set up in Bishop in case the worst happened, and the entire town of Hangman’s Loss had to be evacuated.

  The roar of a vehicle coming up her driveway had her moving to her front door, where she spotted the Hangman’s Loss Police SUV traveling faster than it should have been. Before it had even come to a complete stop, Jack was out of the vehicle, slamming the door behind him.

  When she’d parted ways with Jack at her parents’ house, he’d let dispatch know he was going home to shower and change into uniform. Jack in uniform always got her a bit hot and bothered. Maybe it was the combination of the formality of the uniform overlaying the coiled strength of all those muscles. The short sleeves of the navy shirt stretched tight over his biceps, a patch of white showing the bandage on his left arm. As always, the bulletproof vest added another layer to already broad shoulders and wide chest.

  Dory stepped out onto her tiny stoop as he approached., careful to close the screen behind her to keep the cat in. The smell of smoke hung heavy, and the brown-tinged air obliterated the blue Sierra skies. Even this far from the fire, the air irritated her lungs. Jack stopped in front of her, a frown making furrow lines on his forehead.

  “Where’s Adrian?” he asked, his abrupt voice setting off warning signals.

  “He’s in his room, packing. What’s going on, Jack?”

  He took her hand, pulling her away from the open door. “I got a call from the commander of the camp where Rodrigo was placed.”

  Everything inside her stilled and Dory barely breathed, waiting for the words she knew were coming.

  “Rod and another inmate took off from the fire crew they were assigned to.”

  “He escaped. Rodrigo escaped.” A roaring started in the back of her head, and her field of vision started to narrow.

  “Dory.” Jack’s voice echoed sharply. He framed her face with big hands, long fingers spearing into her hair as he tilted back her head. “Focus on me. You’re not going to pass out.”

  She gripped his wrists and willed the blood back into her brain. “Sorry, I’m fine.”

  “You will be.” He held her face, thumbs rubbing gently along her cheekbones. After a long moment, he must have decided she would stay upright without support, because he loosened his hold, using one hand to brush her hair back.

  “Tell me.”

  “He was on the fire crew assigned to South Valley.”

  “I saw a Department of Corrections firetruck on the way to the Circle M. He was with that crew, wasn’t he?” She didn’t know how she managed to form the words when everything inside her felt frozen.

  “Yes. I stopped and talked to the supervisor before I left the ranch, and he was there. The supervisor is a lazy bastard. Rod was with them at that point, and I told the guy to keep an eye on him, that this was Rodrigo’s home turf and if he was going to run, this was where he’d do it.”

  “And he did.” Dory stepped back, and Jack dropped his hands. The comfort he offered was too seductive. She wouldn’t let herself be drawn in, wouldn’t let herself rely on him. She had to stand on her own. Even as she gave herself the mental talking-to, she wrapped her arms tightly around her middle as if she had to physically hold herself together. “Are the police searching for them?”

  “The situation is complicated by the fire. Since South Valley is in the county, not the city, the sheriff’s department is manning the checkpoint going into the valley. They’ve been notified and are on the lookout. But the decision was made not to send in officers to look for them. There’s too much risk that they could get trapped by the fire.”

  “Rodrigo knows the area enough to get around any checkpoint. What about the inmate he’s with?”

  “The commander thinks it was Rod’s idea to run. According to him, the other inmate, a guy doing three years for bank robbery, is a follower.” He cupped his hands around her elbows as if he couldn’t keep himself from contact with her. “I want you to come to my house and stay with me. You and Adrian can sleep in my bed and I’ll sleep on the couch.”

  “We can stay at my parents’.”

  He was already shaking his head. “Brad talked with your dad and made arrangements for them to stay with his mom. Rod knows where your parents live, and since you’ve moved from where you’d lived with him, if he’s looking for you or Adrian, he’ll likely start there.”

  Dory tried to focus on the details to keep her mind from leapfrogging to every conceivable scenario involving Rodrigo. Her parents were friends with Brad’s mom, Trish Gallagher, so that would work out. But Dory staying with Jack was a whole other deal.

  A call came over the radio hanging over Brad’s shoulder, and he let go of her to answer it. Dispatch was sending him to a domestic dispute at a cabin in the voluntary evacuation zone at the south end of the lake.

  “How can they send you in there?”

  “It’s safe for now.” He paused. “So what’s it going to be? Will you stay with me and Betty?”

  Given her current state of rollercoaster emotions concerning Jack Morgan, staying with him at his home was not a good idea. It would be too tempting to give in to the fantasies that had been plaguing her of late, fantasies starring her, Jack, and nakedness. Adrian’s presence would put a check on that, but still.

  She also understood herself enough to know she’d be a nervous wreck if she and Adrian stayed in their own house. She’d never sleep worrying that every little noise was her ex-husband intent on hurting her and their son. She never had gotten around to meeting with Brad and Jack about a plan to protect herself if Rodrigo was a threat, and now it was too late.

  “You’ll stay with me?”

  Despite her reservations, she found herself nodding. “Once I’ve packed the car, Adrian and I will go to the evacuation center to help out. Can you come by there this evening?”

  “I scheduled an hour of personal time to get you and Adrian settled at my house.”

  “That sounds good. Oh, Mom said you didn’t come by for your tetanus shot. You can get that when you’re at the middle school.”

  He winced but nodded. Dispatch sounded again over the radio, requesting a response to the call. He answered in the affirmative, then clicked off, giving Dory a long look. “I’ve got to go.”

  “Be careful, Jack.”

  “Worried about me, Isadora?” Despite his light tone, his eyes were serious.

  Dismissing the warning bell clanging away in her brain, she stood on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his lips. “Yes.”

  ***

  Jack drove along the twisting mountain road to the cabin situated deep in the pine forest, the memory of Dory’s lips on his giving him hope that maybe she was starting to see him as someone more than her abusive ex-husband’s ex-friend.

>   He turned into the driveway and pulled to a stop, scanning the cabin and surrounding area. Whoever had called for assistance had asked for him specifically, said that Jack had helped him before and knew the situation. If Jack had, the help hadn’t come at this residence, because he didn’t remember ever having been here. The cabin location was up a winding road that snaked into a canyon. The wind had picked up and the smoke was thicker, obscuring any of the tall pines more than a hundred feet away. Add the hot summer sun, and the air felt oppressive and left an acrid taste in his mouth. Most of the residents in the area had already evacuated, but there were always those who decided to make a stand and defend their property. That was usually a poor decision, as far as Jack was concerned.

  A battered pickup that had to be twenty years old sat parked in the dirt, with no license plates. He frowned. No plates raised a red flag, and most evacuees would have packed that truck with whatever they could fit in it to be ready to flee in front of the fire. He stepped out of his cruiser and walked over to place his hand on the hood of the truck. The metal was warm, and the quiet ticks of a cooling engine told him the truck had been recently driven. Caution had him scanning the surrounding terrain. He got on the radio. “Beth, this is Hangman Two. I’m on scene. Repeat the nature of the call.”

  The dispatcher responded, “Male caller claimed conflict with spouse over evacuation orders, over.”

  His gut was telling him there was something more. “Something is off here, send backup.”

  A pause, then Beth responded, “We’ll send another unit when available, but there’s no ETA. All officers are currently occupied. Be careful, Jack.”

  Jack sighed. “Copy that.” He was on his own.

  Senses on alert, he strode to the front door and used the brass knocker in the shape of a pinecone to rap on the door. He waited, then rapped again. When no one answered, he stepped off the covered porch and began to circle the structure. He peered through windows and gaps in the curtains. The inside looked neat, with none of the mess of daily living. There were no coffee mugs sitting on the breakfast bar, no TV remote on the coffee table, no newspapers piled near the recliner. If he had to guess, he’d say this place was a vacation home and not currently occupied.

  He skirted a trio of pines next to a large grouping of boulders to move toward the back of the house. Someone had made the call, had driven the truck. He paused, considering. A whisper of sound, or maybe the same gut instinct that had told him something was off, was his only warning, and was likely what saved him. Jack spun around and ducked as a heavy firefighter’s tool whizzed through the air where his head had been. It embedded into a tree trunk with a solid thunk.

  Rodrigo didn’t bother pulling it loose. He crouched, fists at the ready. “Hello, Jack. Long time, no see. Sorry I missed.”

  It only took an instant for Jack to take in the man who had once been a friend. The prison-hardened physique, the muscles bulging in his neck and filling out the too-tight shirt he wore. Jack’s hand went to his holster, but Rodrigo attacked before he could draw. He launched himself with a full-body tackle that slammed Jack against the granite boulders. He hit the rock with his upper arm and shoulder, the bulletproof vest not giving much protection to that part of his body.

  “I used to whoop your ass pretty regular, remember that, Jack? For a big bastard, you were a wuss when it came to fighting. Those were fun days.” Rodrigo’s lips turned in a sick twist.

  Jack’s memory clicked back to the pain of Rodrigo’s fists when they’d fought it out behind the Brew Pub. Fights where Jack had held back and let Rodrigo pound on him, hoping he’d release his aggressions before heading home to Dory.

  “Come on, you bastard. You like to beat up on women who don’t fight back. Let’s see how it goes when I’m not holding back.”

  Anger mixed with the adrenaline surging in Jack’s veins. Rodrigo feinted right, then left, but Jack remembered the move and landed a solid fist to his face that had blood spurting from his nose. Rodrigo moved in, grappling, until Jack felt the hand at his belt and knew getting his gun was Rodrigo’s goal. With short punches and an elbow to the face, Jack knocked the other man back a step. That allowed Jack more room to maneuver, and he landed a roundhouse punch that had Rodrigo reeling back.

  Rodrigo sneered through the blood dribbling from his nose and smearing his teeth. “You fight better than you used to, asshole.” He spit blood. “I’m still going to kill you, and when I’m done, I’ll go after my wife. Teach her a lesson about who she belongs to. You still got a thing for her?” he taunted. “Most likely you never had the balls to make a move in that direction.”

  Jack struggled to catch his breath in the smoky air, trying to keep an eye on Rodrigo and not let the fucker mess with his head, while at the same time being aware of his surroundings. Two men had escaped from the fire crew, and unless they had split up, the other guy was around somewhere. And that made Jack wary.

  He didn’t have long to worry about it. Jack spun around when a figure appeared at the top of the boulder, a shrill cry splitting the air as he leapt forward. Jack took the hit but stayed on his feet, using his attacker’s momentum to heave him toward Rodrigo. Jack wanted both men where he could see them. His hand went to his gun, ready to draw, but the wiry rebel yell guy scrambled to his feet and rushed him.

  Holy fucking hell. Jack had to rein in the dread and focus on his training. Number one rule: don’t let your opponent close enough to get your weapon. Escaped convict number two fought like a maniac, seemingly without thought of self-preservation. Jack did his best to evade the fists, elbows, and kicks raining down on him. The guy was concentrating his blows to the head and below the belt, areas not covered by the vest. He punched back, used his feet to sweep the guy’s legs out from under him, and when he bounced back up like a ping-pong ball, Jack slammed his fist in the guy’s throat. But it wasn’t until Jack caught him with a knee to the groin that he went down and stayed down, curled like a shrimp ready for cocktail. Even while he whipped his head around trying to spot Rodrigo, Jack managed to flip the shrimp onto his stomach and press a knee into the center of his back to keep him from moving.

  “Hey, you’re breaking my back,” the guy whined.

  “Yeah, you’re breaking my heart. Shut up.”

  Jack wiped his forehead with his sleeve, not really surprised to pull it back and find the material darkened with blood. He reached for his cuffs, all the while bracing for attack from Rodrigo. The unmistakable sound of a shotgun being racked stopped him cold.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Got you covered, Jack.” The grip of fear eased when he heard Brad’s voice.

  Using his handcuffs to secure the prisoner, Jack rose, drawing his own weapon. He whipped his head around. Shit. The Pulaski was gone, and so was Rodrigo.

  “Did you see Rodrigo?”

  Brad immediately began scanning the slope that rose behind the cabin, the dense stand of aspens offering plenty of cover. A firefighting helicopter flew low overhead, the air reverberating with the noise from the rotors. Shotgun ready, Brad circled the building. Jack was still trying to catch his breath when Brad returned.

  “Back door is open, glass broken in the window to get to the lock. There’s a landline so that’s how they made the nine-one-one call.” Brad had to raise his voice to be heard as the helicopter disappeared over the ridge. “You got a description of Rodrigo?”

  “Pretty much the same as he used to look, but more muscular and with cropped hair. He’s wearing too-big blue jeans and a gray t-shirt that’s tight around the shoulders. He’s got a fireman’s Pulaski.”

  “That all he’s armed with?”

  “Pretty sure. He would have used a gun or a knife on me if he’d had one. Tried to brain me with the axe, so I’m lucky to still have my head.”

  Brad clicked on his radio. “Base, this is Hangman One. I need all available units to be on the lookout for escaped inmate Rodrigo Calderon, carrying a Pulaski.” He passed on Rodrigo’s description.


  After signing off, he said, “Let’s get this guy into the cruiser. With the fire, we don’t have enough resources to deal with an escaped prisoner. I hate to say it but we’re going to have to call in for backup from the state.”

  Brad bent over and rolled the inmate onto his back. “What’s your name, son?”

  The guy sneered and tried to spit but ended up dribbling spittle down his chin. “Fuck you. Call me princess for all I care, I’m not telling you my name.” The guy had dark blond hair and blue eyes that bulged from his head.

  “Okay, princess, I’m going to read you your rights, so listen up.” Brad read the Miranda warning, and once done, he and Jack each grabbed an arm and dragged the loudly complaining prisoner around to the front of the cabin where Brad’s police SUV sat parked next to Jack’s.

  Jack opened the back door of his cruiser. Smoke billowed from behind the ridge, a sign the fire was burning closer. At least the winds were calmer so the fire wouldn’t move as fast.

  “Hey, you’re gonna get me out of here, aren’t you?” The guy strained against the cuffs. “That fire’s gonna come over the hill. I don’t want to burn up.”

  Ignoring him, Brad took a call from dispatch. With the seat belt secure around his prisoner, Jack stood at the open door, scanning the slope. There was no telling which way Rodrigo had gone. Best guess was not toward the fire, but that still left a lot of choices.

  When Brad ended his call, Jack crossed to the old pickup. The driver’s door was unlocked and he reached in to pull the hood release.

  “Disabling it?”

  “Yep, I don’t want Rod to circle around and come back for this truck. It had been recently driven when I showed up. My guess is he stole it and took off the plates to slow down identification once it’s reported. It’s not from the Circle M, but could be from the Broken Arrow or one of the vacation cabins in South Valley.” It took him a few minutes without tools, but he removed the distributor cap from the truck, then lowered the hood.