Death on Heels (20 page)

“What’s that?” Tucker stabbed unhappily at the stew.

“Time.”

“T-Rex has got nothing but time to hang me out to dry. And I bet he’s already got the CBI doing the heavy lifting on this thing.”

Lacey had dealt with agents from the Colorado Bureau of Investigation on a few stories. Rural counties and municipalities routinely called on the CBI for investigative help and forensics services. They were no doubt working right now to find Tucker, and her.

“When they catch you—and Tucker, they
will
catch you—when they do, you’ve got to have some kind of theory for your defense. So I need to know where those places are—line camps, cabins, whatever—where Ally, Rae, and Corazon might have been murdered.”

“Did you just jump to a big old conclusion, Lacey? What if they were all killed in different places?”

“Best guess, Tucker. You just told me you know every inch of this county.”

He shook his head. “Okay. What kind of place are we looking for, Lacey?”

“Someplace like this.” They looked around the candlelit cabin in silence for a moment. “Someplace where someone would feel safe taking an abducted woman. Where she couldn’t easily escape. Where he wouldn’t be disturbed, and maybe where the bodies could be dumped nearby afterward.” She stopped for a moment. “But the bodies would be dumped far enough away so the cabin wouldn’t come into the picture. I guess it depends on how far a killer wants to travel with a dead body in the car. Or on horseback.”

“Nobody’s going to do that on horseback.”

Tucker put his fork down and took her pen and notebook. He drew a rough map extending north and west of Sagebrush. He filled it with five county roads and the two main highways, the one that headed west to Utah and east toward Denver, and the other that went north to Wyoming.

“Corazon was found along Firebrush Road. That’s what the paper said. I can’t say for sure where the others were, but from what I heard I think they may have been found on Elkhorn, and Old Gunslinger’s. Maybe five miles from each other. This is where we are now.” Tucker marked a tiny square for the cabin they were in, and a square each for two line camps he had described. “You need a horse or a four-wheel-drive to get to those cabins. In the winter, a snowmobile.” He put down the pen.

She took up the map and held it to the lamp. “So this is where we are now, and that’s Sagebrush.”

They weren’t as far away from town as she thought. They’d made a wide loop out west toward Brown’s Park and then back northeast. Lacey felt as if she could have gone to the moon and back in the time she’d spent with Tucker. Maybe this
was
the moon: The moon
might
be covered with snow and sagebrush, so far as she knew. And she was still furious with him for abducting her. Yet they had fallen into the rhythm of each other’s company. They were almost friends again. If Lacey wasn’t exactly comfortable, she wasn’t afraid.

“I’m taking the heel with me,” she said.

Tucker dug into the stew again. “All yours. What do you plan to do with it?”

“I have to show this to the cops.”

“How are you going to do that?”

“You have to let me go back, Tucker. You know that, don’t you?”

“I guess this isn’t really your idea of a good time.”

Someday this might be quite the story, Lacey knew, suitable for amusing audiences at cocktail parties.
If I live through the experience.
Right now, though, it wasn’t a charming story yet. It was painful and ridiculous and
humiliating. She laughed at the thought it could be a good time. She laughed again and laughed longer, until tears came to her eyes.

“A good time? Oh, Tucker.” She wiped the tears away. The laughs finally subsided in a lamentable sigh. “No, it’s not my idea of a good time. I really prefer my cabins with plumbing and heat, and not being chased by the law.” She was laughed out, and drained. Close to tears.

He smiled sadly, and pushed the hair from her face. He let his hand linger. “I’m real sorry, Chantilly Lace. I know it’s been hard, but I’ve been thinking about the old days, when we were a couple, and I have not been hating this day. Not at all. Even with you mad as a hornet.”

“So help me, if you tell me I’m cute when I’m mad I will kick you where it counts.”

“I won’t say it, then. Cowboy’s life can be solitary, but I didn’t feel lonely today.”

They fell quiet and the howl of the coyote sounded again. This time not as close as before, but it echoed like a heartbroken lament in the night.

“Listen, Chantilly Lace,” Tucker said at last. “If you really think this silver heel will help T-Rex look at this business in a new way, then I’ll help get you back to town. First thing in the morning.”

“The bootheel, and your map, and what you’ve told me, it could change everything—”

“Let’s see how the heel goes over first. There’s no sense in giving them everything all at once.” He gave her half a smile.

“There’s a chance the sheriff won’t listen to me, and who knows about the cops and the CBI. But Vic will listen to me, Tucker. He’ll believe me.”
I hope
.

God, how she wanted to see Vic, talk over the day’s events with him, feel his arms around her.
And maybe a steak and some sautéed mushrooms and a glass of wine, some hot bread with butter, maybe a Caesar salad—

“I do wish you hadn’t brought his name up, Chantilly. I really do.” Tucker scowled at her and brought her back to reality.

“Vic thinks just as highly of you too. But Tucker, you have to accept it. Vic Donovan is my guy now.”

“Well, I don’t have to like it. Tell me, Chantilly, what’s he done for you?”

Where do I begin?
“For one thing, he taught me how to shoot a gun.”

Tucker chuckled. “He’s probably wishing you had a gun with you right now.”

“I imagine so.” She didn’t want to have to use a gun. Ever again.

“Well, sunshine, I’m glad you don’t have a gun. You don’t need one. You can slay me with a look. And I taught you how to ride and rope, so there.”

Lacey thought about roping the lawn chair with her sister two nights before.
That went well.
“I’m a little out of practice, Cole. I could barely hang on to Buttercup. As for me and a lasso—”

He took her hand and stroked it. “It’s all in the wrist, and the hands, and the rope and knot. You gotta concentrate. Anyway, as I recollect, you were getting pretty good at roping a fence post.”

“Yeah, fence posts just quiver in fear when they see Lacey Smithsonian coming.”

“It’ll come back to you. Like Buttercup. Stick around—we’ll get in some practice.”

Lacey had spent most of two years keeping company with Cole Tucker. She hoped she wouldn’t have to spend an equal amount of time talking about Tucker to the authorities. She did not relish the idea of chatting with Sheriff Theodore Rexford about her unwilling part in Tucker’s escape from the courthouse. Sheriff T-Rex never cared for any media of any description, be it print or radio or television, or Lacey Smithsonian. He liked Dodd Muldoon and
The Sagebrush Daily
Press
even less. She wondered if T-Rex had mellowed. That seemed doubtful.

“Tucker, you have to take me back to Sagebrush.”

“I said I’d help get you back to town, Chantilly. I didn’t say I’d personally deliver you into the lion’s den. Or Vic Donovan’s arms.”

Lacey squinted at Tucker. “You know, I never liked
that woman you married either. I thought she was a trailer-trash gold digger. She couldn’t wait to take you away from me. She had bad hair. And a big butt.”
Oh, Tucker, how could you!

He put up his hands in surrender. “Okay, truce.”

“If I could get to a highway, one with some actual traffic,” Lacey said, “I could hitch a ride.”

“Here you’re talking about highway killers and you want to catch a ride with a stranger? Why don’t you let me worry about all this in the morning?”

“No. I’m worrying about it now. I need a plan. For crying out loud, Cole, aren’t you worried? They’re out there hunting us like rabid dogs! And there’s a killer out there too, and whoever it is has got just as much reason to want you back behind bars!”

“I’m worried plenty. Worried sick. But no one’s going anywhere tonight. It’s cold outside and it’ll snow again. I know how much you love that. No, tonight the search party and the posse will all be at the bar somewhere, swapping war stories about how brave they are and what happened back in ’98 or some such bull. I reckon they’ll regroup in the morning, when they call out the dogs and refuel the copter. Maybe call out snowmobiles to search up in the high country, where the snow is still too deep for the sagebrush to poke through.”

“Oh, God, you think—”

“If it was me out searching for
you
, that’s what I’d do. Of course, there is Sheriff T-Rex. We know he’s not all that fond of you reporter types. So maybe he didn’t pull out all the big guns. You should never embarrass a man in print. Especially when it goes on the Internet.”

“It’s not my fault he fell asleep at every county commission meeting,” Lacey said. She scooped stew out of the pan.

“T-Rex didn’t take kindly to that picture you took of him, snoozing with his mouth open. Drooling too.”

Lacey grinned. “It was a public meeting. Fair game.”

“That picture sure would look great on a campaign poster. ‘Theodore Rexford for Sheriff! Asleep at the Switch! Your Tax Dollars at Work!’”

“Stop teasing me.”

“Chantilly Lace, it’s so easy.”

“The sheriff may not care about finding
me
. But
you’re
a fugitive on the run.”

Tucker leaned back in his chair. “T-Rex knows I didn’t do it.”

“Oh, yeah? How do you know he knows that?”

“He was there when I was arrested. He told me he didn’t see how I could have done it, but evidence was evidence. Something about the way he said it makes me think he’s got doubts. He knows, Lacey.”

“You think he’s part of the conspiracy?”

Tucker shook his head and speared a piece of potato with his fork. “Nope, I don’t. T-Rex is an honest man. He’s a cranky old coot and hard to take, and maybe not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but he’s honest. He kept staring at Grady when they put the cuffs on me. T-Rex didn’t like it—he just doesn’t know what to do about it.”

They finished the pot of stew in silence. “How am I going to get back to Sagebrush?” she asked.

“Same way you got here.”

Lacey looked up in surprise. “Steal a car?”

“I
borrowed
those cars. Tasso Petrus probably got his Jeep back by now. All he’s out is some bagels and a little gas, and he’s a celebrity for a day. No, my Chantilly Lace. You’re going back on Buttercup. Just the two of you.”

Ride a horse back to Sagebrush?
It was one thing to ride along with Tucker, who was born to the saddle, a cowboy who could help out if she got into trouble.

“Alone! You’re kidding, right? What if I get lost?”

“Ride next to the road, on the soft ground. Ride gentle and follow the signs.”

“The ones riddled with bullet holes?” This wasn’t making her feel any better.

“You got it.”

“It could take hours.”

“Yeah, but you get to take some shortcuts. And you’ll have Buttercup. It’ll be a gentle ride. Just let her stop whenever she needs to. Maybe three, four hours. Now get your coat on.” Tucker held out her leather jacket.

“Now? In the middle of the night? I thought we weren’t going anywhere till morning.”

“I have to check on the horses. And you probably want to visit the outhouse before turning in. Course, we might be able to scare up a chamber pot for you, milady. Or a bucket.”

“This adventure just gets better and better,” Lacey growled at him. All she wanted in life, she decided, was modern plumbing and a hot bath. And a clean bed.
Oh, and justice for the innocent and retribution for the wicked. That’s all.
She grabbed her coat.

It was bitter cold outside, and stars were twinkling like ice crystals scattered on black velvet. When they got back inside, Tucker dragged the mattress from the bedroom to a spot in front of the stove. “I’ll stay here, so I can stoke the fire. You can join me if you like. Stay warmer that way.”

“No, thanks. I’ll take the sofa.”

“Last chance. You gonna be warm enough?” he asked.

“Sure. Got my coat and my shawl, and this shabby blanket, and it feels a lot better in here. But I’m keeping my boots on too. But what about you?”

“I got my fleece jacket. And a couple of these old spreads.” He shook them out in the bedroom, raising clouds of dust. “I’ll be toasty. Don’t you worry about me. Sleep tight.”

Despite her exhaustion, Lacey did not sleep well the second time. Her head was full of a thousand contradictory ideas and emotions. Whenever she dozed off, it seemed she was awakened by the lonesome cry of a coyote. And one time, deep in the night—she couldn’t be sure; she might have been dreaming—but she thought she heard Tucker whisper softly, “I love you, Chantilly Lace.”

“Time to ride, sunshine,” Tucker said. “You ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” Lacey squinted into the early-morning sun as she rummaged through her tote bag for her sunglasses. She would be angling east into the sun all morning. The day was bright and cold, with fresh snow on the ground, but it held the promise of warmer weather. She double-checked to make sure the silver bootheel was tucked inside her bag, at the very bottom, next to her little camera and the article about Ally Newport. Tucker’s map was slipped into a slit in the tote bag’s lining.

Tucker was gentle with the horses. He simply had a way with them. Ricochet was impatient and ready to run, while Buttercup was placid and a little curious.

Lacey tried not to think about how filthy she felt wearing the same clothes as the day, and night, before. By now, she was thoroughly rumpled. She made do with some towelettes and a dab of makeup on the circles under her eyes, some eye shadow and mascara, and she’d combed her hair, pulling it back into a ponytail. Not her favorite look.

“You sure do look pretty this morning, Chantilly.”

“I feel like I’ve been dragged through the mud.”