Forsaken (7 page)

“Thank you.” Riley leaned close to Gage. “Eat my biscuit and die,” she said in a low voice, pairing the words with a saccharine grin.

He nodded, bemusement lighting his face. It was still there when she glanced in his direction before the door closed.

When she returned less than five minutes later, she had a full breakfast waiting on the counter for her—the ham biscuit she requested plus another biscuit with sausage gravy, two slices of bacon, a pile of steaming scrambled eggs, and grits. Melted butter crept over them in tiny rivulets.

“Thought you might be hungry, sweetie.” Gage said, pulling out a stool for her. “All of your favorites.”

“Thanks,
darling
. How thoughtful of you.” And smart, not that he needed his ego stroked. A full breakfast gave them a reason to stick around and make small talk with the regulars. Even better, their patronage would likely garner some information, if there was any to be had.

The woman behind the counter—Adele, by the nametag—returned with coffee. “You say you’re looking for someone?”

“Yeah, guy did some volunteer work at a hospital in Tehcotah. We’d like to thank him, if we can find him.”

Adele set the coffee pot down and wiped her hands on a towel. “Does he have a name?”

“Tom Rigby.”

Next to Gage, a man with gray hair sticking out from under his ball cap snorted. “That worthless son of a bitch? He doesn’t have a selfless bone in his body. He wouldn’t volunteer unless he was sentenced to community service—if that.” He shook his head. “Tom don’t do nothing that don’t benefit Tom.”

Riley and Gage traded glances. “You sure?” she asked. “I don’t know how we’d have gotten through those first weeks without him.”

“You got the right fella?” Adele asked.

Riley told her the address they’d staked out that morning.

“That’s the place. Haven’t seen him in a spell, though.”

“You know where we might find him?”

“He had a boy living with him.” Adele paused and called to one of the guys down the counter. “Bobby? Tom still have that boy living with him?”

“Ain’t seen him,” came the reply.

“Well, he did have a fella living with him. Not much came by way of rumor, if you can believe it, so that’s about all I know.”

“Maybe we’ll just go knock on the door, then,” Gage said. “Sure would like to thank him for all he did.”

That earned another snort from the guy down the counter.

“Interesting,” Gage said under his breath, just before filling his mouth with a forkful of eggs. When Riley didn’t look away, he smiled. The gesture was so simple, so
normal
, it warmed her.

In the moment, she forgot to be mad…or maybe she just didn’t want to be. The feeling tangled with the first moments of real peace she’d experienced since the accident, and the irony didn’t get past her. Only she and Gage could reach a pinnacle of their relationship on the heels of two murders while sidestepping—if not flat out running from—the law. She hadn’t asked for specifics on their legal status, and she didn’t particularly want to know.

They finished breakfast, and Gage left a tip larger than the bill itself. “Maybe that extra cash will buy us some favor with them, should anyone ask questions down the road,” he said under his breath once they were out of earshot of the locals. He held the door open for her.

The late morning air already felt like an oven.

“Yeah,” Riley said, falling in step beside him. “Although it doesn’t sound like their loyalties side with Tom, anyway.”

“Sure doesn’t sound like he’s the charitable type. I guess he could have them fooled, but not many folks try to hide the good with the bad.”

They climbed in the truck, Riley shifting so she angled toward him. “Maybe he thought he’d ruin his bad reputation if word of the good stuff got out.”

“Isn’t that what I just said?” he asked, firing the engine and heading back in the direction of Tom’s house.

“No, you said people probably wouldn’t pretend they were jackasses when they weren’t. I said maybe he wanted to protect his jackass reputation.”

“There’s a difference?”

“It’s a nuance.”

Gage snorted. “I’d tell you I’ve missed this about you, but the last thing you need is encouragement.”

“Too late, Lawton. You wear your heart on your sleeve.”

“So much for protecting my jackass reputation then,” he said, smiling. “At any rate, Tom doesn’t sound like the generous type. Something was definitely going on between him and Colt.”

To that, Riley would have to agree. She just couldn’t say it. There was already enough blame and suspicion darkening her world. She didn’t want to think Colt could have anything to do with the missing gun, but the alternatives numbered few. It was either Colt or her father, and the latter was less likely than the first.

The options sickened her.

This time, Gage parked several houses away alongside a patch of trees, likely planted to shade the playground—overgrown and seemingly long abandoned—at their roots. He tucked his gun in his waistband, shifting so he could do so before exiting the truck. “If you want to stay out here…”

“Forget it,” she said.

“Figured as much.” He grinned, sending tingles of awareness cajoling with the nerves she was already wrestling. Their unspoken truce strengthened under the warmth of his gaze. “We should be able to follow the tree line to the house,” he said as they climbed out. “Maybe if anyone sees us, they won’t connect us to the truck.”

“So we’re just regular loitering burglar types. That makes me feel better,” she said. Her stomach turned at the idea of coming face-to-face with Tom.

Gage responded by lacing his fingers through hers. It felt right.

Too right.

The trip through the shallow stand of trees was short and uneventful, aside from the butterflies in her stomach caused by strolling hand in hand with Gage. Nevertheless, as they approached the house, Riley grew tense, her senses on edge. She couldn’t decide if she wanted Tom to answer the door or not. All jokes aside, he didn’t sound like the greatest of characters, and she had no idea what kind of mood he might be in—or whether her connection to Colt was a good or bad thing.

She followed Gage across the unkempt lawn—at some points thigh deep in weeds—and tried not to wonder how many snakes might be under foot. “You just gonna knock?” she asked as they rounded the side of the house toward the front door.

“Yes, I’m just going to knock. I don’t think anyone’s home, but maybe it’ll keep the old biddy across the street happy.”

“Old biddy? Nice.”

“Hey, you saw how she was looking into my truck. She’s a one-woman neighborhood watch.”

Riley didn’t respond. Picking her way through the junk on the front porch required all of her attention.

“Here goes nothing.” Gage rapped his knuckles on the dull aluminum screen door. After a minute, with no signs of life from inside, he leaned over and peered through a rip in the curtain. “Don’t see anything but a mess,” he said.

“Not surprising, considering the state of affairs on the porch.”

He knocked again, but didn’t wait by the door. Instead, he herded her off the porch. “Let’s check out the rest of the house.”

She sighed and turned, walking ahead of him. When she reached the broken sidewalk, she gestured for him to lead the way. “What are we going to do? Look in the windows?”

“Exactly,” he said, as if there wasn’t a thing in the world wrong with adding trespassing to their list of crimes.

“Yeah, because walking the perimeter with our faces pressed to the glass won’t look at all suspicious. What are we looking for?”

“A reason for him to visit Colt.”

“You think you’re going to find that squinting through dirty window panes?”

He appraised her with laughing eyes. “Do you have a better idea?”

To her relief, he skipped the front windows, sparing the neighbor lady any easy entertainment value.

Riley figured the old woman would have the cops on their heels the second she saw them round the corner of the house, but she followed him anyway. Whatever Gage thought they’d get away with, Riley figured it was better to be at his side than not.

The first two windows revealed more junk. “You think he actually lives here?” she asked. “Looks more like storage.”

“I’ve seen worse living conditions.” Gage snorted. “What, you think this is his vacation home or something?”

“Maybe it’s an unwanted inheritance. Could be sleeping in his truck or on a buddy’s sofa.”

“True, but why? His name is on the deed. I’d hang out at my own place before I’d crash elsewhere. Last thing a guy needs is his buddies dogging him for not having his own roof.” Gage stood on tiptoe to peer through a high window.

“Bathroom?” Riley guessed, her curiosity piqued by his dogged interest in what lay beyond the dirty glass.

“No.”

Silence.

“You want me to keep guessing?”

“No need to. We’re going inside.”

“Inside the house?” Clearly she wasn’t up for a life as a career criminal.

“As opposed to…”

Lacking other options, she ignored the question. “What do you see?”

“A reason to go in the house.”

Riley tamped down the urge to smack him across the back of the head. “You realize this is actual breaking and entering this time, right? Or do you have a key here too?”

Gage made his way through the tall grass to the back door, pausing only a moment to squint through another window. “Is it my fault if he forgot to lock the back door? And it just happens to open when I knock?”

“And the odds of that are what? Besides, it’s still not legal.”

Gage tossed a disarming smile in her direction. “Says the woman wanted by the law.”

“Which is whose fault?”

The grin disappeared. “Tom Rigby better hope like hell it’s not his.” Gage tried the knob but it didn’t turn. “Hmm.” Armed with another smug grin, he kicked the door.

It flew inward, the broken lock hitting the linoleum beneath.

Great
.

She followed him into a dated, cluttered kitchen. Once they cleared the path of the door, they found piles of stuff teetered every which way, leaving her gulping stale air with unease. Thirty seconds in and she’d had enough. “Okay, what was so interesting?”

He looked around for just a moment before turning left, in the direction of whatever was on the other side of the window.

The hairs on the back of Riley’s neck stood up. The towering junk in the small house threatened to suffocate, choking the oxygen from the space. The air smelled of infestation, and the meager footpath weaving from one room to the next disappeared. They were left to search for footing through stacks of boxes, many of which had spilled their contents into unruly heaps. There was plenty to bother her, but obvious discomforts aside, something didn’t feel right.

“Damn.” He couldn’t move out of the way, but he turned so she could see past him. There, in the center of the room in a clearing of sorts, was a hospital bed. “Coincidence?” he asked, but he didn’t wait for an answer. He climbed over a minefield of toppled boxes, Riley close on his heels.

“So he’s got a hospital bed. Could have belonged to a relative.” Riley took a deep breath, this time sucking in more than the scent of vermin. “Gage, I smell smoke.”

The scent grew stronger with every passing second. There hadn’t been a trace of it when they walked through the back door, and already the odor was unmistakable.

He paused, his hand on a stack of papers. “Me too. Out, now.”

She whirled around, swallowing panic when she saw the sea of boxes and junk they’d climbed over blocking the way to the door. Smoke navigated the ceiling-high junk like clouds maneuvering mountaintops, the acrid scent thickening and growing heavy in the air.

Seconds later, flames followed, attacking both exits once.

They were trapped.

Chapter Eight

Time froze, but the flames did not. Through the smoke and the squalor, the fire inexplicably licked both of the room’s doorways—one near the front of the house, and the one Riley and Gage had entered near the back.

It made no sense. What kind of fire started everywhere at once? Gage jerked around, his attention immediately drawn to a window. He tugged on the back of Riley’s shirt.

She spun, eyes wide. She’d already pulled her shirt over her mouth and nose, but the dry fabric wouldn’t help long.

He pointed to the window and without waiting for a response, waded through the junk, falling twice, fighting coughs, and trying not to breathe. An upended wooden chair made for a nice battering ram, so he grabbed and shoved it through the glass. Then, without missing a beat, he yanked the flimsy metal curtain rod from the wall. He ran the pole across the bottom of the pane in an effort to knock out the remaining shards of glass, grateful the cheap casements held one big thin panel, which saved them valuable time.

With the escape route as clear as it was going to get, he turned to Riley. The flames were spreading fast, the smoke so thick he didn’t see her at first. One, then two desperate steps back and he saw her, crouched near the floor. He waved at her to approach, then ushered her ahead to their improvised escape.

Riley pushed her feet through the opening, kicking loose glass off the sill as she went. Seeing that she’d rolled to safety, Gage followed after her. The drop was meager, but the shock of fresh air was almost startling—as much as he wanted stop and feast on it, he didn’t. Instead, he stayed on Riley’s heels, first crawling, and then fleeing the burning house.

“Trees.” Still gasping for breath, he choked on the word. His gunshot arm burned as much as his lungs did. He focused on staving off a coughing fit.
Just get to the trees
, he told himself.
Then we can worry about the rest.
He was no expert on fires, but he’d bet his good arm there’d been an accelerant in that house—even with the boxes and papers all over the place, fire didn’t simultaneously land in two spots at once—and he wasn’t taking chances an explosion wouldn’t follow.

Something more than coincidence triggered that fire. Tom Rigby had something to hide, and he was doing an impressive job of hiding it.

Riley stopped at the tree line, edging into the shadows. When she turned to Gage, her eyes were rimmed with red, her skin streaked with dirt.

He wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her hair. She smelled of smoke and that frightened him, made him realize how close they came to the unthinkable. He could not—
would not—
lose her again. “You okay?”

She nodded. “That was close,” she said, echoing his thoughts.

“Too close. You ready to make a run for the truck?”

“Is that wise? Fleeing the scene?”

Even tacked with fear, her voice hadn’t lost that wry quality he adored. Gage held her tighter, scared at how he felt in that moment. He loved her. God, he loved her. But he laughed, trying to settle his own nerves and hoping he’d ease hers in the process. “Versus what?” he asked. “Waiting for the authorities to arrive?”

“Don’t you think that woman reported your license plate by now? I bet she had it memorized before the sun came up. Even if she hasn’t noticed we’re back, I kind of doubt she’ll chalk this up to an unrelated incident.”

Gage snorted. He reached for her hand as he stepped away. Threading his fingers through hers, he gave a tug and she followed, matching his fast pace.

“Truck is registered to a Chuck Weston. He’s an upstanding citizen without any arrest warrants, nor is he a person of interest in a murder investigation.”

“What if they track down the truck and ask for a driver’s license to go with that registration?”

“They probably won’t have the chance, but I can assure you, it looks good. And it’s not mine, other than the photo.”

“Then why not wait and tell your side of the story? His house is burning down, Gage. I feel terrible.” She sounded watery, on the verge of tears.

“Because,” he said, nearing the edge of the woods. “Once they get Chuck in their system, Maverick’s got to set up a whole new good ol’ boy identity. We’re not supposed to use them unless we have to.”

“And if—or should I say
when
—they run the license plate?”

He sighed. “Right. Let’s just stay off the radar if we can. No need to make it any worse. There is the little matter of breaking and entering.”

Riley snorted. “
Now
it’s breaking and entering.”

Gage turned to look at the house. The fire was still contained within the walls, only a wisp of smoke trailing upward from the backside of the house where he’d broken the window. Unless Old Biddy had her binoculars keyed in, the fire might not be obvious…yet. They still had time.

Twenty yards stood between them and escape. “Try to look casual,” he said. “We’re going to get in the truck and go. We’ll call the fire department once we’re on the road.”

“Shouldn’t you call them now? Before the whole house burns down?”

“Nope.”

“Gage—”

“That fire was rigged. There’s no way it just happened to catch fire with us in it, especially not all over at once. Did you see how the fire almost instantly blocked both doors—one at the front, one at the back? Not an accident.”

“Okay, a coincidence might be a stretch, but how does that work? Rigging a fire, I mean.”

He shrugged. “No telling. My guess is either some sort of a trip-wire or a motion detector. I don’t know about you, but with all of that junk in there I wouldn’t have noticed a trigger mechanism. Hell, if the guy is good, it’s not something a person would notice even without the stuff everywhere.”

They reached the truck. The street was still quiet, but the house was beginning to show outward signs of fire. The calm wouldn’t last.

She didn’t say anything until her seat belt was on. “Trip wires? Motion detectors? Where do you come up with this stuff?”

He placed his gun in the cardboard box console and slid his phone from his pocket. Handing it to Riley, he said, “Call it in. Anonymously.”

She took it, hesitating. “The fire…we caused it, then? We’re the reason his house is burning down?”

“There was something in there he didn’t want anyone to see. Burning to the ground is exactly what Tom Rigby wanted. The house and whatever damned secrets went with it.”

Maverick’s ability to spew profanity had improved significantly in the handful of months since Gage signed on. It took a good sixty seconds before Gage could understand a word Maverick said…or maybe it just took that long for him to say anything intelligible. Either way, it was impressive.

“What the hell were you thinking going into his house? I told you—”

“You told me not to kill him,” Gage said, cutting him off and earning a sharp look of alarm from Riley. “And I didn’t touch him.”

“You burned down his house.”

“No,
he
burned down his house. The question is, why.”

Tense silence filled the connection. “I’ll give you that one. There’s something there he—or someone—doesn’t want anyone to know about. It may have something to do with that hospital bed, but it’s unlikely it ends with it.”

“There’s no way he was living there, much less anyone with mobility issues. Why not just destroy whatever evidence or get it out of the house? Why take the whole house down?”

“Maybe there wasn’t any evidence left,” Maverick said. “Maybe he just wanted warning someone might be on to him.”

“Some warning. Either way, it doesn’t make sense. If there was nothing to hide, why does he need a heads up?” Frowning, Gage picked at a crack in the vinyl covering the steering wheel. They were parked a good hour out of Purvis, headed nowhere except
away
. They’d stopped for cold drinks to wash away the taste of smoke, at which point Gage swapped the license plate on the truck. Riley hadn’t looked convinced a mere plate switch would keep them off yet another most-wanted list, but when he pointed out the rampant supply of beat-up pickups on the Oklahoma highway system—and the coinciding likelihood they’d never been noticed—she relented to stubborn silence.

Which was more than he could say for Maverick.

“We don’t know if there’s anything to hide. A hospital bed is hardly a matter for conviction. My grandma had one in her bedroom for years.”

“Come on, man. First he’s sneaking into Colt’s hospital room after hours. Then he disappears off the planet—not even his neighbors have seen him—and then we find a gurney in his living room. Which goes up in flames shortly after we pay him a visit? He had some other medical-looking equipment, but I had to dodge flames before I could get nosy. But if you want my wasn’t-born-yesterday opinion, he’s hiding something.”

Maverick blew a disgruntled breath over the line. “I probably shouldn’t say anything because the last thing you need is encouragement, but I have preliminary reports from the scene—off the record, of course. It looks like he had a motion detector rigged to fixtures packed with something along the lines of Napalm. I’ve seen a similar setup before. Motion detector sends a spark to the wires, which light the fuel. And once it goes, you’re screwed. Firebombs. It’s like putting out a grease fire. Water just spreads it, and by the time the fire department figures out water isn’t helping, the damage to the area is thorough.”

Maverick had contacts everywhere, but Gage was still impressed. “How did you find out all of that?”

“It’s my business to stay on top of your shit.” Maverick paused and then spit out a sarcastic laugh. “That, and there was a hit on the tags. My friend with DPS was kind enough to give me a heads up. Needless to say, once I knew you were involved I made a few phone calls.”

“Don’t suppose you know anyone who can track down Rigby?”

“You think I’d tell you if I did?”

“That depends. You want to do this the hard way or the easy way? I’m afraid I don’t have your talent for discretion…”

Maverick sighed. “The hospital liaison, Genevieve Steele. She hooked up Tom and Colt. If anyone knows a connection between Rigby and paralysis, she’s the one to ask. Her office is in Tehcotah.” He shared the address, his tone wary.

Gage’s internal celebration at the lead hit a quick snag. “Can she tell me anything?”

“She’s not a doctor. She’s a volunteer coordinator. I don’t know what she’ll tell you, but there’s only one way to find out.” And Maverick sounded none too pleased about it. “By the way?”

Gage smiled. “Don’t kill Rigby. Got it.”

In spite of all she’d seen in the last two days, Riley was genuinely surprised when Gage flashed yet another fake ID at the Sunrise Motel just outside of Tehcotah. He’d tucked his shoulder-length hair under a baseball hat to resemble the photo on the driver’s license, but it was probably for naught, as the kid who gave them a room at the low-rent establishment barely glanced in his direction.

“Checkout by eleven. Channel seventeen porn’s on the house. You want the good stuff, it’s extra.” The desk clerk didn’t bother to look up as he slapped a key on the counter. It was attached to a lime green key chain advertising a local tattoo parlor.

“Thanks man.” Gage palmed the key.

Riley wasn’t sure she’d have touched it at all.

The man pointed down the lone hallway. “Room’s that way.”

“Classy,” Riley muttered as soon as they’d put distance between themselves and the front desk.

“Relax. At least I didn’t pay the hourly rate.” He laughed, clearly finding more amusement in the idea than she did. “We need to shower somewhere, and it’s here or a truck stop. You can’t go just anywhere this filthy and reeking of smoke.”

Riley stared at the threadbare carpet running the length of the hallway and snorted. “Looks to me like ‘just anywhere’ is exactly where we ended up.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve gone high maintenance on me.” Gage stopped in front of a door featuring chipped paint and the words
Room 34
. The four hung upside down, but someone had corrected it by drawing in the number right-side-up with a marker. “This is us.” He opened the door and flipped the light switch.

Riley peered into the room. Both the dark brown carpet and faded floral bedspread boasted stains of questionable origin. The wallpaper—an unfortunate blend of orange and avocado green—had probably been there longer than she’d been alive. Yellow light emanated from a dust-covered lamp, highlighting a Bible on the bedside table. “This is…great.”

“Sarcasm?”

“You think?”

“Let’s wash up and run next door to get some decent clothes. No point in showering if we’re going to have to wear the same stuff.” He touched her nose. “You’re cute when you’re filthy, you know.”

Riley groaned inwardly. Was this what her life had come to? Disgusting motels and an escalating crime spree? And now there was going to be a frantic rummaging through racks of miscellany hoping she’d find something—anything—in her size. Worse, she needed underwear, and as far as she knew they didn’t sell that secondhand, not that she’d want it anyway. The attention they’d draw in the store wouldn’t be good for them either, but they had to find clothes.
And
, she thought as she looked around,
to get out of this motel room
.

After they’d each taken a turn at the bathroom sink—Riley left it feeling dirtier than when she entered, although she had to concede she smelled better—they left via the rear exit and headed for the thrift store in the next parking lot. Although the outside of the retail establishment left plenty to be desired with its plywood signs, faded paint, and one boarded window, the inside was bright and the cashier friendly. Riley was thrilled to find clothes she’d have bought under less dire circumstances, although she was still without clean underwear.

They grabbed lunch and ate in the truck before going back into the motel room. There, she showered and changed, grateful on second thought for the general filth of the motel room. Gage didn’t say as much, but she’d bet not even he would throw her down and have his way with her on a comforter that might literally be crawling with someone else’s DNA. But he did look at her with a sweetness and intensity she just couldn’t ignore.