8

OLIVIA’S HEART POUNDED hard enough to hurt.

She winced during the thump that used to be Grueber—at least she hoped he was gone. His men had unfortunately leapt clear and now shot at her through what were apparently bulletproof windows.

Harding unbuckled his seatbelt and pressed a button that opened the sunroof.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Just drive.”

“Don’t go out there! Harding, please!” She drove faster, but speed didn’t dissuade him.

Gun in hand, he scrambled onto his knees, then pulled himself up until he was standing on the center console, shooting into the wind. All the while, the fasten seatbelt sign blinked on the dash, accompanied by an annoying ding that made the cacophony of pops and rapid-fire thunder worse than they already were.

The longer the battle raged, the more she held her breath. But then no matter what she tried, she couldn’t get enough air. What if Harding got himself shot again? How would she find her grandparents? Worse yet, how would she live in a world without him?

She reached for his nearest leg to drag him down when he lowered himself. But instead of looking terrified like he had back at those steep drop-offs, his expression read more of smug triumph. He held his chin high and those lips she could kiss for days turned up at the corners. What the hell? She’d been scared to death, and he looked as if he’d come inside from recess.

“Looks like I nailed two,” he said. “But Grueber must have just been knocked out. Switch sides with me, and I’ll do a U-turn to finish the job.”

“The job?” Stopping the car while the seatbelt ding worsened her insanity. Olivia pummeled the infuriating man. “This isn’t a job, Harding, but my life. What’s wrong with you?” She was crying. The agony of fearing she’d lost him months earlier the first time he’d been shot, mixed with current events. The pain of it all was too much to bear. She hit him again and again, but there was no power behind her punches. Only hurt and confusion and wishing he could be the kind of man who got a thrill out of playing video games rather than acting in a starring role.

“Hey . . .” He pushed the gearshift into park, then killed the engine, drenching them in sweet silence.

Exhaustion shimmered through her, making her chest ache and limbs feel like stone.

The headlights showcased swirling clouds of dust.

“You did good back there,” he said. “I know that wasn’t easy. It’s understandable that you’d be upset about your first time running someone down, but . . .”

“You think that’s what has me freaking out?” She laughed, but it came out sounding more like a strangled sob. “Harding, for all we know, that man could have killed my grandparents and has hurt countless other souls. I don’t give a shit about him. The man I care about is you, but you’re drawn to danger like kids to an ice cream truck. You’re not invincible. Your body was trying to tell you that through your reaction to those drop-offs. You’re not Superman. You can be killed. Why do you insist on stacking the odds against you?”

“Seriously?” He glanced behind them. “See those headlights coming up fast? That’s why I put myself in danger, Liv. To protect you, your grandparents—anyone else who can’t protect themselves. It’s what I do. All I do. I don’t know how to do anything else. And apparently, I did a shitty job back there or our new friends wouldn’t be itching to start Round Two.”

“What should I do?”

“Drive!”

Hands shaking, she pressed the ignition and punched the gas. But the gears were still in park, so all her efforts earned her was a nasty grinding sound and more of the incessant warning clangs from the seatbelt police.

A glance in the rearview showed the vehicle behind them closing in fast.

She slipped the gearshift into drive, lurching them forward fast enough to kill the engine.

“Ohmygod. Why is this happening?”

Harding leaned up and out of his seat to kiss her quietly, then in a ridiculously calm tone said, “Liv, you can do this. It’s no different than when you have a patient who’s coding. Different circumstance, but the same pressure to work through. Got it?”

Sucking her lower lip into her mouth, infused by his faith in her, she reworked the problem and this time got results when the vehicle performed as she’d wanted. Her grip on the wheel was hard enough to hurt through each bump and rut and dip in the crappy road, but she kept going, determined to drive them to safety—wherever that might be.

“Faster, hon. They’re still gaining.”

She nodded.

“You’re doing great. We’ve got no cell service, but from what I remember of Sawyer’s map, soon you’ll come up on a split in the road. Take a right. That should lead us to Randy’s compound. From sat photos, it looked like a mini-fortress.”

“But isn’t he a bad guy, too?”

“No clue. Just keep driving. My guess is that we’re dealing with varying degrees of evil. Human trafficking trumps Randy’s ex-sister-in-law sins. Once Grueber did a background check on us, he was smart enough to realize that if we vanish, there will be hell to pay. That’s why he let us go. Too bad he was also smart enough to realize ditching us wouldn’t be that easy.”

She glanced in the rearview. “They’ve almost caught up.”

“Stay calm. Own the center of the road. Whatever happens, don’t let them get alongside you.”

The cheeseburger that had been delicious an hour earlier now burned in her throat and stomach. The chase dragged on until her shoulders ached from her steely grip on the wheel.

“There it is,” Harding pointed toward a fork in the narrow road. “My guess is that they’ll try cutting you off. Claim your space.”

“Easy for you to say,” she mumbled. Her mouth had dried to the point that her tongue caught on the back of her teeth.

“You’re doing great. I’m assuming Randy will have a gate. When we see it, don’t stop until we’re right against it. I want you to climb out of the sunroof, scramble down the windshield, then use the hood as a boost to get you over whatever barrier he has in place.”

“What about you?” she asked, nearly to the turn.

“I’ll be right behind you. But you’ll need cover. We’ll only have a few seconds before Grueber and his crew catch up.”

Olivia groaned.

“Relax. You can do this. I have total faith in you.” Something about the tenor of his voice, the reassuring strength of his tone, calmed her. Filled her with quiet resolve to see this through.

Sure enough, the driver of the pick-up on their tail tried rocketing ahead of them, but not only did Olivia accelerate through the curve, she managed to give them a hard knock to their right front fender.

“Damn, Liv. Nice move. I might have to hire you once we get home.”

“Nice offer, but I’ll keep my day job.” It took another few minutes of hard driving down the narrow, bumpy lane, but she finally caught sight of a lighted, metal security gate. On either side stood eight-foot stone walls topped with razor-tipped accordion wire. She braked, but then the gate eased open. A man stood alongside it, waving her in.

“What do I do?” she asked Harding. A hundred yards remained to decide.

“Accept his invitation.”

Seventy-five yards.

“What if it’s a trap?”

Fifty yards.

“At this point, Randy’s our only option. We did drive all this way intent on paying him a visit.”

Twenty-five yards.

Instead of braking—or even slowing—she burst through the opening at fifty mph, then fishtailed to a stop on cobblestone, just shy of a seriously classy three-tiered fountain. She froze. Was Grueber still on their tail?

“I’ll be damned.” Harding shook his head and chuckled. “You all right?”

“I think so?” She was a little woozy from lack of oxygen but otherwise okay. “Where’s Grueber and gang?”

“Not with us. Come on.” Gun in hand, he left the vehicle.

“Are you sure it’s safe?”

“No. But it might be tough talking to Randy through the windshield.”

Fair enough. She cautiously emerged on legs too wobbly to properly stand. Took her a minute to regain her composure.

“Let us in, Randy!” Grueber and his men pounded on the now closed gate.

“When hell freezes over!”

“We’ve got no beef with you.”

“I’ve got plenty with you. Fair warning, I’m turning on the juice in three, two . . .” He flipped a switch that made the perimeter wall emit a low hum.

“Sweet,” Harding said under his breath. “He’s got the whole place electrified.”

“We’re not leaving till you give up our prizes!” Shots rang out.

“Hello. Welcome,” said a pot-bellied man with a handlebar mustache and a contagious smile. Crossing the courtyard to meet them, he held out his hand. “I’m Randy, and I’m guessing you’re the Harding and Olivia that have the entire town in an uproar?”

“Yes, sir.” Harding shook his hand. “Sorry to barge in like this.”

“After the trouble at my mine, I’ve been expecting you. Come in, come in.” He led them down a winding stone path to the veranda of a hacienda-style mansion. A low profile, coppery tiled roof complemented sandy toned plaster walls. Wide, paned windows were framed by black shutters and burnt orange flowerboxes overflowing with ivy. “This time of the year, my garden’s not much to look at, but give it a few months and it’s a stunner. You need to come back then.”

With Randy in the lead, Olivia and Harding shared a look.

Um yeah, Green Fork wasn’t high on either of their vacation lists.

He opened the door on paradise. Gleaming terra cotta tile welcomed them into a gracious home that smelled of lemon oil and a home-cooked meal. Stew? Facing the entry was a floor-to-ceiling glass wall looking out on a glowing turquoise infinity pool. Beyond that was a gasp worthy, awe inspiring moonlit view of buttes and rock towers that could have only been rivaled by those of the Grand Canyon. Cozy seating areas crowned what Olivia guessed were hand-woven Indian rugs. Bookshelves held leather-bound classics and current bestsellers. Lamps banished the darkness, lending teasing glimpses of oil paintings and sculptures of which she’d appreciate a closer view. Soft classical piano music played.

Wow, she mouthed to Harding.

He nodded.

“Come on into the kitchen,” Randy said over his shoulder. “Just took a roast from the oven, but I’m still working on my famous garlic mashed potatoes.”

Not stew, but roast sounded even better. Her earlier heartburn had settled. This incredible place filled her with hope, making her believe anything was possible—including finding her grandparents alive and unharmed.

“You’re a tough man to find,” Harding sat on a stool at a long, granite-topped counter in a kitchen lined with ornate, black lacquer cabinets.

Too anxious to sit, Olivia hovered alongside him.

“Not really,” Randy eased his hands into floral print potholders. “But I suppose you are the only ones who’ve been arrested in my shop before getting your tour. Remind me I owe you a refund.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Harding said.

“What can you tell us about my grandparents?” Olivia removed the photos she’d folded and stashed in her jeans pockets after leaving the police station.

“They were a great couple.” He retrieved a perfectly browned chunk of meat from the oven.

“Were?” she asked, eyebrows raised.

He set the roast atop the grated burners of a restaurant quality gas stove. “I don’t know what that motley crew down at Ollie’s told you, but just in case none of it was especially flattering, you should know my ex, Elise—Sharon’s sister—cheated on me. With another woman. When I didn’t think it was right to have to pay her alimony for the pleasure of her shacking up with a stripper, the whole family turned against me.”

“That’s quite a different story from the one Sharon tells.”

“Doesn’t surprise me.”

“Back to my grandparents,” Olivia said, “Sharon mentioned you ate with them at Ollie’s. That you all seemed in a jovial mood.”

“We were.” He shifted his attention from the roast to turning off the back-right burner on the stove, then draining the peeled potatoes that had been simmering in a stainless-steel pot. “Your grandfather found my guide services online. We’d just shaken on a deal to meet up in Goblin. They were going to finish stocking up on supplies, then I would take them to the X on his map. But it was funny, because the X wasn’t where I would have expected according to Navajo lore, but somewhere else.”

“He showed you his map? The new one?” Olivia had a tough time believing that bit of news. Dude hadn’t even shown Harding, and he loved him. Or, at least, had loved him before the break-up.

“Can’t say if it was new or not,” he returned the pot to the stove, “but I did see a map. He mentioned needing to find a certain cave that was only visible during the winter solstice. I asked around and for what I considered a fair price, told him that cave’s location, which was quite a ways from his original X. But . . .” He turned to a supersized fridge for a stick of butter, then pulled a potato masher from a drawer. With the butter on the counter, he proceeded to mash. “By the time I reached Goblin, your grandparents were already gone. As I’m sure you’re both aware, Green Fork isn’t the idyllic tourist town it appears to be. Goblin isn’t much better.”

“No kidding.” Harding glanced at his phone. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but when Olivia’s grandparents were with you at Ollie’s, they spent an awful lot of money for a single truck stop meal. Mind telling me what you ate?”

“We had steaks, but I offered to foot the bill. It couldn’t have been much over fifty or sixty bucks, maybe seventy with tip.”

“Add a couple hundred,” Olivia said.

Randy waved off her concern. “You can credit Sharon and her crew for that. They get kicks out of tagging as much as possible onto customers’ bills. It’s a sick game. If you ever see her again, check out her jewelry. Her and the girls make an annual trip to Vegas to spend their tip money.” He took fresh garlic from a wire basket hanging above the counter, then prepped individual cloves for putting through a press.

Harding whistled. “I did notice her jewelry but assumed it all was fake. How have any of these people not been caught? Sharon? Grueber? The lot of them?”

“Beats me. I’ve checked into the credit card fraud, but the Federal Trade Commission only handles cases over two grand. Ollie’s girls are careful enough to never get caught. For the customers who do file complaints, they turn all sweet and apologetic, giving prompt refunds for the accidental charges. Most customers never even notice. An extra piece of pie here, an iced tea there. It’s not much to diners, but over time, it adds up for the staff.” He added the garlic to his potatoes, then the butter. “Olivia, since I was with your grandparents, no doubt Sharon wanted to stick it to me through them. She’s a thief, but it’s not in her character to hurt anyone. I’m sorry Dude and Shirley were in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Me too.” Olivia, suddenly exhausted, pulled out the stool next to Harding and had a seat. “Sadly, this also means we’re at another dead end.”

“Not necessarily,” Harding said. “I suspect Grueber knows more than he’s letting on. Otherwise, why would he have wanted us out of town? Or dead?”

Randy stirred his potatoes, then added salt. “The sheriff’s dirty as they come. I’ve put in dozens of tips to Homeland Security, but they think I’m an old codger with an ax to grind. Those boys down at the station are real careful about who they choose for targets. Usually, they pluck loners or kids out of already remote spots. Hell, they blame disappearances on everything from mountain lions to psycho serial killers. I heard Grueber bragging about those twins he nabbed from Ollie’s. About how those two were worth the danger it took to grab them.”

“That’s disgusting,” Olivia said.

“Amen.” Randy wiped his hands on a dishrag then turned back to the counter next to the oven to slip on his mitts. “Hope you two are fans of roasted brussels sprouts.”

“Thanks,” Olivia said, “but I’m not hungry.”

“Suit yourself.” He removed a Pyrex baking dish from the oven, setting it alongside the meat on the stove.

Harding asked, “How much did you charge Dude and Shirley to play guide?”

“A grand. It’s my standard fee. It’s listed on my services menu in all of my brochures.”

True. “I want you to take us to the cave where you were taking them.”

“Not possible this time of year. According to the Navajo elder I spoke with, he made it very clear that this cave was sacred and could only be seen during the winter solstice. One day out of the entire year. All other days their Holy People make it invisible.”

“Could you at least get us into the vicinity?”

“Red Falls? I suppose. For a price.” He took a knife from a countertop holder and began carving the meat. “Trust me, more than anyone—well, aside from you, Olivia—I want Dude and Shirley found to clear my name. But if I’m away from my mine, that means no tours. No tours, means none of this . . .” He gestured to the cozy grandeur surrounding them. “I’m a humanitarian but also a business man.”

Harding reached for his wallet to withdraw a wad of hundreds. Beneath the counter, he counted ten, then set them in front of him on the polished granite. “There you go. Your standard rate.” He peeled off more bills from his thick stack. “If your pile triples, could we leave tonight?”