Colorado Bodyguard (13 page)

“This is getting nowhere,” Rand said.

“They haven't asked him about Alan Milbanks yet,” Marco said.

“What is your relationship with Alan Milbanks?” Graham asked.

“Who?” Prentice looked blank.

Michael slid a piece of paper across the table—Rand assumed it was the photograph.

Prentice studied the image without expression. “Who is that?” he asked.

“It's a picture of you and Alan Milbanks,” Rand said.

Prentice leaned over the picture, studying it closely. “I don't know who that is in the picture. It's not me.”

“Do you have a twin?” Michael asked.

Prentice merely glared.

“He's a cold one,” Rand said. “How can he look the captain in the eye and deny that's him in the photo?”

“Lying is like anything else,” Marco said. “You get better with practice.”

“Then I'd say Prentice has had a lot of practice,” Rand said.

“That is a dark, blurry photo of someone who vaguely resembles my client,” the older lawyer said. “My client has already denied it is him, and you have no proof that it is.”

“This picture shows a meeting between you and Alan Milbanks.” Michael stabbed a finger at the picture. “A known drug dealer who is now dead.”

“I don't know anyone named Milbanks and I certainly don't know anything about his death.”

“It's interesting to me that people you associate with keep dying.” Michael pulled out a chair and sat next to Prentice. “First your pilot, Bobby Pace, and now your friend Milbanks.”

“We're done here, gentlemen.” The older lawyer stood and the other lawyer and Prentice rose also.

Marco checked his watch. “Twenty minutes. That's longer than I thought we'd get.”

“Twenty minutes wasted,” Rand said.

“Not necessarily. We showed our hand. Now we see if we made him nervous enough to do something stupid.”

“Or maybe this just gives his lawyers more ammunition. We'll get to read in the papers tomorrow about our continued harassment of an innocent man.”

They moved back into the hallway in time to see Prentice walking out, flanked by his lawyers. Lotte growled low, under her breath. Rand rubbed behind her ears. “That's right. You know the bad guys when you see them.” They joined Graham and Michael in the interrogation room. “What do you think?” Rand asked.

“He's lying about Milbanks,” Graham said. “His eyebrow twitches when he's stressed—it's a tell Emma clued me into. It was twitching like crazy when I showed him the photograph.”

Rand hadn't picked up on that. “Anything when you asked about Lauren?”

Graham shook his head.

“So what now?” Michael asked.

“CSI towed Lauren's car this morning,” Graham said. “They're going to go over it again and see if we turn up anything new. How's her sister?”

“The scene at her hotel room yesterday shook her up some, but she's hanging tough.”

“Everything go okay last night?” Graham studied him intently.

“Fine.” He'd tossed and turned most of the night, kept awake by the memory of those incredible kisses, torn between the desire to get up and knock on the bedroom door and invite himself in, and worry that she'd reject him. In the end, his responsibility to protect her and help her through this overcame his desire.

“Let her know we aren't giving up,” Graham said.

“I will.”

His phone rang. He checked the display and felt a catch in his chest. “It's Sophie. She's probably calling to ask how things went with Prentice. How much can I tell her?”

“Tell her we didn't learn anything new, but we're still working on it.”

He punched the button to answer the call. “Hello, Sophie.”

“Rand, you have to get out to Richard Prentice's ranch right away.” She sounded out of breath, her voice an excited whisper.

“Why? What's going on?”

“I'm here now, in an upstairs bedroom. There's a closet with women's clothing and shoes, all in Lauren's size. The dresses smell of her perfume—I'm sure she's been wearing them. And I found a purse with one of her business cards in it.”

“Sophie, what are you doing there?” Disbelief and alarm made him speak more loudly than he'd intended, drawing attention from the others.

“I knew he'd be at the station with you, so I thought this would be the perfect opportunity to look around.”

“Sophie, you have to get out of there,” Rand said, his agitation growing.

“I promise I was careful with everything.”

“Sophie, get out of there now.” He couldn't believe she was taking such a terrible risk. “Prentice is on his way back there.”

“All right. But do you think this is enough to get a warrant to search the place? Lauren was here, I know it. She may still be here now.”

“We'll talk about it when you're safe.”

“Maybe I should look around a little longer.”

“No!” He almost shouted the word. Taking a deep breath, he tried to calm down. “That isn't safe.”

“All right, but... Okay. I have to go. Someone's coming.”

“Sophie? Sophie?” The line went dead.

Chapter Thirteen

Sophie pressed her ear against the closet door, listening to the footsteps approaching. A man's heavy tread. Was it the same guy as before, or someone new? Only one person, she thought, so the first man hadn't gone for help.

The steps headed straight for the bedroom. She held her breath, afraid to even breathe. The bed creaked, then two thunks—had he removed his shoes and dropped them on the floor? The mattress creaked again, and someone sighed. Was he settling in for a nap?

She waited for several minutes, straining to hear, but all was silent. Finally, she wrapped her hand around the doorknob and turned it ever so slowly, then eased it open, easy...easy...

She pressed one eye to the narrow opening and stared out at a bulky man in desert camo, stretched out on his back on the bed, hands folded on his chest like a corpse. Maybe he'd been the one who came into the room before, only a call had forced him to delay his nap. Another call could wake him at any time—especially a call that Prentice was returning to the ranch.

The man on the bed snored, making her jump. She shut the door and leaned her forehead against the smooth wood.
Think!
she silently commanded herself. She had to get out of here. Once Prentice returned, she'd be trapped. She'd probably only been able to get in because the guards had relaxed a little with their boss gone. When he returned, they'd be on their best—and sharpest—behavior.

The snoring continued, heavy and even. The guy was really out of it. This had to be her best chance to get by him.

She eased the door open once more, then slipped out of the closet. The sleeping man's chest rose and fell evenly, his snores like the rumble of a motorbike. On tiptoe, Sophie crossed the room. He'd shut the door, so she had to stop and deal with that. She turned the doorknob and tugged, expecting it to open easily, as all the other doors had. But this one stuck. She tugged again and it opened suddenly, sending her lurching back. Worse, the hinges let out a tortured squeal. Sophie cringed, and started into the hall.

“You there! Stop!” The voice, deep and commanding, had the force of a bullet hitting her back, but she hesitated only a moment before taking off down the hall. No sense worrying about being quiet now; she ran as hard as she could, feet pounding along the hall and down the stairs. Behind her, the guard shouted and raced after her.

She crossed the kitchen, slipping a little on the tile, then regained her balance and hurtled through the mudroom, hitting the back door hard, fumbling for the knob. Behind her a second guard had taken up the pursuit. “Stop, or I'll shoot!”

She stumbled down the steps and darted across the prairie, aiming for the fences and the road in the distance. She'd only gone a few dozen yards when the first bullets whistled past her. She'd read before that it was hard to hit a moving target, but that didn't mean it was impossible, was it?

Her side ached, and every breath was torture, her lungs burning. Why hadn't she kept up her New Year's resolution to go to the gym more? Maybe the bullets wouldn't have to kill her; she'd collapse on the prairie from exhaustion. She glanced over her shoulder and let out a wail when she saw the Jeep barreling toward her. Oh, God, they were going to catch her. What would they do to her?

She tried to run faster, but she stumbled and sprawled forward, the breath knocked from her. She lay facedown in the rocks and bunch grass, trying to breathe, waiting for the shot she was sure would end her life. Tears squeezed from beneath her closed eyes. So much for being brave; her foolishness had cost her everything.

The Jeep stopped somewhere behind her and footsteps approached. “Get up,” a man's voice commanded.

She didn't move. Maybe they'd think she was already dead and go away. Or did that only work with bears?

Rough hands grabbed her arms and hauled her to her feet. “Who are you?” the guard—the one who'd been napping on the bed—demanded. Up close, he looked much younger, only in his early twenties, she thought, with a sunburned, unlined face and blond stubble on choirboy rosy cheeks.

She kept her mouth shut. If she didn't say anything, they couldn't use the information against her.

“What are you doing here?” The other guard, older and beefier, like a linebacker, had climbed out of the Jeep and walked toward her.

She looked away and tried to assume a bored expression. She doubted she was fooling anybody, especially since her knees were visibly shaking.

“Were you trying to steal something?” the older guard asked. “Did you take anything?”

“Maybe we should search her.” The younger guard leered at her.

If he tried, she'd kick him where it hurt. Wasn't that what they taught in all those female self-defense classes at the Y?

Something behind them distracted them. She followed their gaze and saw the dust plume that indicated an approaching vehicle. “Mr. Prentice is back,” the older guard said.

“Come on.” The first guard dragged her toward the Jeep. “Let's go talk to him.”

“If you let me go, I won't tell him you were napping on the job,” she said.

The younger guard gave her a sour look but didn't stop walking. “I don't know what you're talking about,” he said.

The older guard shot them a curious look, but he didn't slow down, either. So she'd have to throw herself on Prentice's mercy. He'd been perfectly civil to her when he invited her to his home, but chances were he wouldn't view her return visit so favorably.

The Jeep and Prentice's SUV met in front of the house. The guards hauled her out and brought her to stand in front of Prentice and two men in dark suits. His lawyers, she guessed. All three men regarded her sourly. “Ms. Montgomery,” Prentice said. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you,” she said. “But you weren't at home.”

“How did you get past the guards?”

She shrugged. “Maybe they were occupied elsewhere. I didn't see any reason not to come up to the house.”

“Oh, you didn't?” Prentice looked her up and down, with the attitude of a man who had ordered a new suit and found it not to his liking. “You have no business on my property. I could have you jailed for trespassing.”

“I came to see you. That's not the same as trespassing.”

“She was in the house,” the younger guard said. “In the upstairs bedroom.”

Prentice's scowl deepened.

“I was waiting for you to come home,” Sophie said. “You have a very nice house, so I thought I'd look around. I didn't hurt anything. I didn't take anything.” Except pictures.

“We should search her, to be sure,” the older guard said.

“We should call the police and have her arrested,” one of the lawyers said.

“It seems someone has already summoned them.” The others followed Prentice's gaze to the vehicles speeding down the drive toward them. Sophie sagged with relief as she recognized the black-and-white FJ Cruisers used by The Ranger Brigade.

The SUVs stopped and Rand and Graham stepped out. They both wore dark sunglasses, so she couldn't read their expressions, but the hard set of their mouths told her they weren't pleased to be here. “We had a report of a trespasser,” Rand said.

“Who made the report?” Prentice asked. He showed no sign of recognizing Rand from his previous visit, when he'd posed as Sophie's boyfriend. Maybe the uniform, or Rand's commanding attitude, distracted him. “I didn't call anyone.”

“Then someone who works for you must have called us.” He moved toward her, long strides covering ground quickly.

“We know how much you value your privacy,” Graham said.

Rand wrapped his hand around her upper arm. The touch wasn't gentle, but it reassured her, nonetheless. He might be angry with her, but she trusted him to keep her safe. “We'll take her now,” he said. “Do you want to press charges?”

Prentice regarded her coldly for a long moment, as if weighing his options. “No charges,” he said. “But I want to know what she is doing here.”

“I told you. I wanted to talk to you—about my sister.”

“I've already told you everything I know about your sister,” Prentice said.

“I was hoping you might have remembered something else. Something that would help us find her.”

“Maybe your sister doesn't want to be found,” he said. “Maybe she's started a new life and is happy with her new circumstances.”

“She knows I only want her to be happy,” Sophie said. “Why would she hide that from me?”

“Sometimes the best way to start over is to cut all ties with the past,” Prentice said.

“Not with the only family you have,” Sophie said. “Lauren wouldn't do that.”

“My advice to you is to go back to Wisconsin and get on with your life,” he said. “I'm sure Lauren is fine.”

“Do you know something we don't?” Rand asked.

“I'm merely being logical. You haven't found a body or anything to indicate that Lauren Starling is dead. She was at a difficult place in her life. Why not make a fresh start, perhaps with a new name, in a new place? It happens more than most people think. There's nothing criminal in it.”

“Lauren wouldn't turn her back on me,” Sophie said. “I know she wouldn't.”

Prentice turned to the Rangers. “Take her away,” he said. “Then all of you, get off my property.”

She and Rand followed Graham out of the house. “I'll see you at headquarters,” Graham said, and climbed into his vehicle.

Rand dragged her toward his FJ Cruiser, where Lotte greeted them with a sharp bark. She hardly noticed the dog, she was so focused on the man beside her. Gone was the gentleness he'd shown her earlier. He held his body rigid, his jaw clenched, as he started the vehicle and pulled away, tires squealing and gravel pinging against the undercarriage. “I'm sorry I upset you,” she said when they'd cleared the ranch gates.

“Upset me?” He slammed on the brakes and skidded to the side of the road, so violently she clutched the dashboard to keep from being thrown forward. “Of all the stupid, ill-conceived, foolhardy stunts—you could have been killed.” His voice shook with some emotion she couldn't name—anger, frustration...fear?

“But I wasn't killed.” She struggled to keep her own voice even. “You showed up at just the right time. And I'm very grateful for that.” She'd never been so glad to see anyone in her life.

“Didn't what happened yesterday at your hotel teach you anything about the kind of people we're dealing with here?” he asked. “I thought you were smart enough to be afraid.”

“Of course I'm scared,” she said. “But I'm more afraid of what will happen to Lauren if we don't find her soon. I had to do something.”

“It's my job to find your sister.” The anger had left his voice, and his expression grew gentle again.

“I know you're doing what you can, but it's not enough.” She swallowed against the sudden threat of tears. “Maybe what I did wasn't smart, but I got the proof you need to get a warrant to search Prentice's house.”

“You obtained the proof illegally. We can't use it in court.”

“But you can use it to get your warrant.”

“What proof do you have?” he asked a little more calmly.

“I have pictures.” She held up her phone and he leaned over to peer at the image.

“What am I looking at?” he asked.

“It's a woman's purse, with a business card inside. Lauren's card. It proves she was in the house—I know it.”

* * *

R
AND
 
DIDN
'
T
 
KNOW
 
whether to kiss Sophie or shake her. She really thought she'd done the best thing, going into Prentice's house when he wasn't home, but she could have jeopardized their whole case, not to mention her life. He shook his head and put the vehicle in gear again. “We'll talk about it more at headquarters.” Maybe the captain could explain it to her better. He was obviously too emotionally involved to view anything she did impartially.

“Are you really arresting me for trespassing?” she asked when he turned into the lot in front of the Ranger headquarters.

“I ought to.” He shut off the engine but made no move to get out of the vehicle. “What you did was incredibly foolish and dangerous.” And he broke into a cold sweat, just thinking about it.

“Playing it safe isn't finding Lauren.”

She sounded stubborn now. He turned to her. “I don't think you realize that what you did could jeopardize the whole investigation.”

“Or it could solve all your problems.”

“Your sister's disappearance isn't the only crime we're trying to solve here. If it is a crime.”

She stiffened. “What do you mean?”

“What if Lauren is with Prentice—but she's with him voluntarily? What if it's like he said—she's trying to start over and cut ties to the past?”

“She wouldn't do that.” Was that doubt in her voice?

“Why not?” he asked. “The man's a billionaire. He's always being photographed with beautiful women, so he must have some charms. His last girlfriend was a Venezuelan fashion model. Maybe Lauren really likes him.”

“She wouldn't disappear without telling me.”

“Didn't you say she'd dropped out of sight for a while once before?”

“That was before her diagnosis. Now she's being careful, taking her medication...”

“People relapse. I don't know a lot about bipolar, but I've been doing a little reading. Apparently, sometimes people enjoy the manic periods so much they're reluctant to let them go. They go off their medication, believing they can handle themselves this time, but then they fall back into the old cycles. Maybe that's what happened to your sister.”