CHAPTER FIVE
AS THE DAY slipped away, all Buckmaster could think about was that Bo should have been back by now. He looked toward the mountains, imagining her riding out of the pines, back straight and head high, just as he’d taught her to ride. She would come back to face whatever problem she had at the foundation. She wouldn’t run.
Misappropriation of funds... Those were the words that kept circling in his brain, thanks to his lawyer.
As he entered the living room, he saw the television was on one of the news stations. Angelina had taken to watching the news nonstop from the time she awoke to when she finally went to bed.
“He looks like a hardened criminal, doesn’t he?” she asked, her gaze on the television screen.
He glanced at the mug shot of the man on the screen. Raymond Spencer looked still wet behind the ears. He had freckles, for hell’s sake, and baby blue eyes. He also looked as though he wanted to cry.
Another mug shot flashed on the screen. In this one, he looked older and doped up. He’d shaved off all of his blond hair. Something in his eyes had changed, as well.
“Turn that off,” Buckmaster snapped as the anchor said the man’s escape was blamed on a communication gap between Livingston, Montana, law officers.
“The manhunt continues for Spencer, who is wanted in the armed robbery and death of a convenience store attendant. Spencer escaped three weeks ago after—” The television screen went black as Buckmaster turned it off with the remote.
Angelina stared at the blank screen. “He escaped in handcuffs. He would have to go somewhere to get those off, right?”
What was this obsession she had with crime? The moment Buckmaster thought it, he knew this was her reaction to what her brother had done.
“Do you think you could kill someone?” she asked, turning to look at him for the first time since he’d entered the room.
He sighed. “If I had to.” He didn’t have to ask her the same question. He knew. When her blackmailer had been murdered, her brother had been arrested. But Buckmaster had suspected Angelina had given him the gun.
She’d denied it. But he’d come to know his wife. Angelina could be merciless. Understanding that had changed the way he looked at her, which in turn made him feel guilty. He loved this woman as much as he was capable of loving her, since Sarah had always been his true love.
But with Angelina came a debt. He owed her. He knew he wouldn’t have achieved his political standing without her. Also, he knew he should be glad that she was sticking with him, given what they’d been through lately. Better to have her on his side. She would make one brutal enemy.
“We should make sure the doors are locked,” she said, getting to her feet. “Livingston isn’t that far away. Who knows where that escaped killer is?”
“I’m sure they will catch him,” Buckmaster said. “I thought I read in the paper this morning that they had tracked him through a bus ticket.”
“To Reno, Nevada,” she said. “They think he bought a car down there and might have returned to Montana. There is concern he’s still in the area since he was raised on the other side of the Crazies in Wilsall. They’re calling him a violent criminal.”
“Angelina—”
“I just don’t understand what makes someone do something like that,” she said as if she hadn’t heard him speak.
That was the problem. He suspected she did know what made a person do horrible things. He stepped to her and took her in his arms. Her back was ramrod straight, her body stiff and unresponsive. They hadn’t made love in months. Not since Sarah had returned.
After a moment, she stepped from his arms, and he let her go.
* * *
AFTER SARAH’S APPOINTMENT with the doctor, Russell brought her back to the cabin. He’d questioned her on the way home about what the doctor had said, but she’d been evasive.
“The tests were inconclusive. He just doesn’t know.”
Now Sarah picked up one of the strawberries Russell had brought her earlier and took a bite. She closed her eyes as her teeth sank into it, a smile coming to her lips as she savored the fresh berry. Russell watched her, entranced. Since the moment she’d stumbled out of the woods in front of his pickup, she’d captivated him.
At first he’d thought she was an apparition, because he’d attended her funeral twenty-two years ago. This Sarah seemed so utterly vulnerable, lost and helpless. Since the day he’d found her, though, he’d glimpsed a strength and determination in her that astounded him. This woman was someone to be reckoned with.
As he watched her relish the strawberry and sigh with contentment, he wanted to wrap her in his arms and protect her from the world outside this cabin. But she wasn’t his. Fate might have brought them together and made him feel responsible, but ultimately, the woman was still in love with Buckmaster Hamilton. Because of that, Russell wasn’t sure where he fit into her life—if at all.
She’d made a point of not asking about Buckmaster. Did she think mentioning the man would upset Russell? Admittedly, it did. He knew what she was waiting to hear. “Buckmaster has been calling.”
Sarah looked up, her contented expression disappearing at just the mention of her ex-husband’s—scratch that—husband’s name. Buckmaster might have had Sarah declared dead after her body wasn’t recovered from the icy Yellowstone River, then remarried seven years later, but in Sarah’s mind and heart, Buckmaster was still her husband. Russell knew Buckmaster still thought of Sarah as his wife, as well.
“What does he want?” she asked as she pushed the small empty basket of strawberries aside.
He wants you, Russell thought. The senator, now with one too many wives, couldn’t stand that this was one part of his life he couldn’t control. At least in Russell’s humble opinion.
“He says he’s worried about you. He likes knowing where you are and if you’re all right.”
She smiled at that. “What did you tell him?”
“That you were safe and that he should worry more about his current wife.”
For the first time since he’d stumbled across this woman he’d thought dead for the past twenty-two years, she laughed a real laugh. It was rich, musical and delightful. He wanted to make her laugh for the rest of her life.
Quickly he quelled that thought, chalking it up to mere loneliness. His wife of more than forty years had died recently, leaving a hole that nothing had filled—until Sarah.
“None of this is Buck’s fault.”
Russell raised a brow. They’d had this discussion before. He thought all of this was Buckmaster’s fault and had said as much. “You tried to commit suicide twenty-two years ago,” he’d argued. “What happily married woman with six beautiful daughters, the twins only months old, drives her car into the Yellowstone River in the middle of winter in an attempt to kill herself?”
“Maybe one with postpartum depression or a houseful of young children and a husband who...”
“Who was distracted with his political career?” Russell suggested.
She shook her head. “He was involved only in local politics back then, and ranching.”
“Something was wrong, and even if he didn’t drive you into that river, he wasn’t around enough to notice that you needed help.”
Sarah sighed. “Unfortunately, I can’t remember, so I have no idea why I would do such a thing.”
Russell suspected something had happened to trigger her suicide attempt other than postpartum depression. He was betting Senator Buckmaster Hamilton was behind it. But Sarah didn’t believe it. Or didn’t want to believe it.
Russell didn’t want to fight with her, though, so he said, “He wants you to come stay on the ranch. He suggested I bring you late at night to avoid the press.”
“He can’t be serious,” she said, meeting his gaze.
Russell had said the same thing to the senator. “Apparently he is very serious. But you wouldn’t be staying in the big house with his other wife. You’d be living in the bunkhouse complex he built for the girls. He said it’s like a condo, and you would be comfortable and safe there.”
“Safe? Does he know the woman he’s married to at all?” She shook her head, looking miserable. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. Moving onto the ranch with him married to another woman? Can you imagine what the press would make of it?”
Russell couldn’t help his relief. “Are you going to tell Buckmaster about your visit to the neurologist?”
“What would be the point? Buck wants answers. The doctor didn’t give me any.” She let out a small, bitter laugh. “Buck won’t accept that I might never recall the past twenty-two years. That those years might be gone forever.”
Russell wondered if Buck might surprise her and be just as glad she couldn’t remember. He could see that a part of her hoped she wouldn’t remember the past. But he knew those years weren’t entirely gone. He’d seen her look startled on occasion, her eyes growing dark and cloudy, her hands balling into fists. But it was her expression that told him she was remembering. Wherever she’d been, whatever she’d been, the memories terrified her. Who she might have been terrified her.
“For Buck’s sake, I need to disappear again so I’m not such an issue with him running for president. But I want to have a relationship with my children. They already expect me to desert them again. The media has already made me out to be some flighty airhead who abandoned her husband and children, returning only because of my husband’s political success.”
“You could remarry,” Russell said and then bit down hard on his tongue.
* * *
HER HEART THUDDING against her ribs, Bo looked at the knife in the man’s right hand. Her arm ached from the grip of his fingers digging into her skin. She could feel his dirty fingernails biting into her flesh. Her attempts to talk him into letting her go had fallen on deaf ears.
Now his gaze followed hers to the knife and back to her face. “That’s right, sweetheart. Unless ya want this blade plunged into yer belly, ya do what I say.”
His words sent terror shooting through her. She fought to breathe as she met his eyes. Instantly she recoiled at the cold hatred she saw there. She didn’t need a reminder of who this man was and what he was capable of. A man who’d already killed once. A violent criminal.
“We’re goin’ to walk down to my camp,” he said and tugged on her arm.
All her instincts told her she had to think of a way to get away from this man. But he was big, a good six foot four or more, and solid as a new barn. Even if she could break free and avoid the knife, she doubted she could outrun him.
Looking around, she saw that her horse had stayed where the man had dragged her from it. If she could reach her horse—
“Ain’t going to happen, so ya might as well put it out of yer pretty little head. You ain’t goin’ nowhere. Yer mine now.”
She swallowed, terrified at the thought. “They’ll be looking for me. You would have a better chance without me. If you took my horse—”
He jerked her arm, dragging her over to a tree where he had hidden an oily green pack. She watched him lay down the knife and lean over to reach into the pack with his free hand. Her whole body was trembling with fear, but she had to at least try to get away.
She spun to the side, his fingers losing their grip on her arm as she flung herself in the direction of her horse. She took a step, then another, longer one, trying to run on her quaking legs. If she could just reach her horse—
The blow to her back flung her to the ground. She sprawled in the dirt, the fall knocking the air from her lungs. Gasping like a trout tossed up on the bank, she struggled for breath as she tried to get to her feet.
His knee landed in her back, the weight of him crushing her to the ground again. She let out a scream of pain. He wound his hand into the hair of her ponytail and jerked her head back.
“Maybe I weren’t clear. Yer with me now. Anybody comes lookin’ for ya? I’ll kill ’em. Ya want me to hurt ya bad? I will and I’ll have fun doin’ it. Try to get away agin? And ya will wish ya was never born.”
He rose and she was able to take a breath, then another. Her back ached. So did her arm and the roots of her hair as he dragged her to her feet by her ponytail.
“Me and Bo-Peep. Ain’t we a handsome couple?”
Bo felt sick to her stomach as he pulled her back over to his pack. He dug out a roll of duct tape, ripped a piece off with his teeth and, still holding on to her hair, one-handedly bound her wrists. She had the horrifying feeling that this wasn’t the first time he’d bound a woman with duct tape.