Official Duty. Doreen Roberts
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wait with you.” Jed tipped his hat back and scratched his head.
“Me, too,” Cory muttered.
“He’s gotta come out from Rapid City,” Cully reminded them. “That’s more than forty miles away.” As if echoing his words, the thin wail of a siren floated across the mountainside on the wings of a strong breeze.
“Reckon that’s him now,” Jed said quietly.
Still unable to accept what had happened, Cully drew an unsteady breath. “You’re sure. About down there, I mean.”
Jed’s face looked drawn in the ghostly moonlight. “Cully…”
Cully lifted his hand. “Okay. I just want to know, that’s all.”
He’d seen more than his share of death and destruction during his years in law enforcement. He was hardened by it, almost to the point of detachment. It was part of the job—a job he struggled to give his all.
The law and his horses. That was all he needed to make him happy. There was nothing better to keep his mind off the seamy side of life than taking a wild ride in the saddle under a western sky—head on into the clean, sharp winds that blew in from the mountains.
Right now he wished like hell that he was riding into that wind. Right now he didn’t want to look death in the face. No matter how tough a skin he’d grown, it couldn’t protect him now. Because down there, crushed inside what was left of the shattered pickup, lay the mangled bodies of two people who’d meant the world to him.
Normally his deputies wouldn’t have called him out to the scene of an accident. They would have handled it themselves and made their report in the morning. It had been Jed who’d recognized the pickup and figured he’d want to know about it. Half-asleep, Cully had thrown on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, grabbed his jacket and leaped into his Jeep to hightail it out to Gold Peak.
Jim and Mabel Corbett weren’t just friends and neighbors. They’d given him a home and stability when he’d needed it the most. They’d given him the chance to turn his life around and become a man.
“Cully?”
At the sound of Jed’s worried voice, Cully lifted his hat and settled it more firmly on his head. The siren wailed again, much closer. “They’re almost here,” he said shortly. “I’m going down there to wait for them.”
“I’ll come, too.”
Cully raised his hand. “No. Give me a moment alone with them.” Without waiting for an answer he plunged, half-sliding, half-leaping, down the gully.
He had to hold his breath as he directed the beam of his flashlight over the crumpled vehicle. Thank God it hadn’t caught fire. He’d prepared himself for what he might see but when he caught sight of Jim’s hand in a death grip on the wheel, his throat closed on him.
According to Jed, the call had come in more than an hour ago. A passing motorist had seen the headlights of the truck careening down the mountain road, then vanish. The witness had also reported the noise of the crash, echoing across the craggy peaks that had given the town its name.
Cully frowned. It was an odd time for Jim and Mabel to be going somewhere. The elderly couple rarely went out at night and usually went to bed after watching the local news at 10:00 p.m. For them to leave their house around two in the morning meant there had to be some kind of emergency.
He sat down on a small boulder and finally allowed himself to think beyond the stark details. Then, and only then, did he let the image of her into his mind.
Ginny.
This would break her heart.
It must have been twelve years since he’d last seen her, yet the very thought of her still jabbed at him like the sting of a scorpion.
She’d been barely nineteen back then. Tall and willowy, her dark hair flowing to her shoulders, her eyes blazing green fire, she’d faced him across the worn slats of the fence that bordered the Corbetts’ house, hurling a tirade of words designed to hurt.
They’d hurt all right, though he’d never let her see that. It had been the toughest thing he’d ever had to do in his life but he’d let her go. It had seemed the right thing to do at the time. He’d spent the past twelve years or so trying to convince himself of that.
He’d died a little when she’d left and he’d died a little more when he’d heard she’d married. It was the last time Mabel had mentioned her name and he’d been too damn proud to ask after that.
Ginny should know about this. She’d want to know. If only he knew how to get in touch with her. Even Jim and Mabel didn’t know where she was. Or so they’d said. Maybe they were just trying to save him from more heartache. In any case, it was too late now. The Corbetts were dead and he’d lost the last fragile connection to the woman he’d never been able to forget.
He sat there, head buried in his hands until the whine of the siren died above his head. He watched the medics work the best they could through the smashed windows of the truck. He wasn’t surprised by the verdict. Both victims apparently had died instantly. They’d know more when they got the bodies out, which wouldn’t be until the next day when they could get equipment down there to pry open the doors.
It wasn’t until much later when alone in his car on his way back home, something else occurred to him. A tiny detail maybe but enough to spark the instincts that had always served him so well in the past.
The more he thought about it, the more convinced he became that something was very wrong with the whole picture. Something that didn’t add up. He pressed his foot hard on the accelerator, knowing that now he wouldn’t rest easy again until he’d figured out exactly what had happened in the last hours of the lives of Jim and Mabel Corbett.
THE PUNCH CAME at her hard and fast, aimed straight at her face. She ducked but wasn’t quite quick enough. The cruel fist grazed her cheek, slamming her into the wall. Clutching her bruised shoulder, she faced the man advancing on her.
His contorted face was ugly with fury. He snarled at her, each word piercing her heart like lethal slivers of cold steel. If you ever try to leave me, I’ll hunt you down. I’ll mess up that pretty face of yours so that no man will ever look at you without shuddering.
He raised his hand, holding the pointed blade of the knife just inches from her face. Light glinted along the razor-sharp edge as he brought it closer. You’re mine, Virginia, and you’ll be mine until the day we die. Longer, because if you have the guts to outlive me, I’ll come right back to haunt you. You will never be rid of me. Never.
She tried to call out for help, knowing that none was there. And then she was awake, his mocking laughter still ringing in her ears. Her lunging hand found the lamp and light flooded the room.
She sat up, hugged her knees and rocked until the perspiration on her forehead dried and her heart slowed to its normal beat. The nightmare was nothing new. She’d endured it over and over again.
But then, as the fog of sleep cleared, memory returned. Brandon was dead. Things had changed after all.
She had nothing to fear now. He could never hurt her again. She was finally free.
Or was she? Three months and still the nightmares persisted. Why couldn’t she rid herself of the memories? Why couldn’t she just forget the past, put it all behind her and get on with her life?
You will never be rid of me. Never.
Shuddering, she lay back down and pulled the covers over her bare shoulders. He was right. He may well be dead but he still haunted her dreams and tormented her mind. God help her.
Reluctant to go back to sleep, she finally crawled out of bed and wandered into the kitchen. The digital clock on the wall told her it was a little past 5:00 a.m. Coffee would be awfully good right now.
As the welcome fragrance filled the organized kitchen of her elegant town house, she made