Appalachian Abduction (Lavender Mountain Book 2; Appalachian Magic) Page 8

  “Hell, no.” Her breathing was jagged and raspy, her forehead scratched and bleeding. “My side hurts.”

  No blood that he could observe. Gently he ran a hand down her left rib cage. “Here?”

  Charlotte moaned and batted his hand away.

  “Probably cracked ribs,” he said. “And maybe even internal injury.”

  “Who cares? Just go. Don’t let those guys get away.”

  “You sure?”

  She waved a hand. “Go!”

  The siren wails grew louder—the cavalry would arrive soon enough.

  “I’ll send the backup your way,” she urged.

  He nodded and scrambled down the incline. Two men dressed in black pants and navy T-shirts crawled out of the sedan. One ran for the tree line, cradling his arm, and the other tried to run, but clutched his right leg and limped along at a slower clip.

  James picked up his pace, half sliding and half jogging downward. What rotten luck that a tree hadn’t broken the sedan’s fall. Instead, it had rolled to a stop twenty yards from the edge of the woods. Gray smoke from its engine spiraled upward. Damn, the sedan could go up in flames at any moment.

  The smell of leaking fuel brought him to a standstill. A whoosh of dizziness descended and he was again sucked into that quicksand of a flashback. A merciless sun beat down on the top of his head and his skin gritted and stung from an Afghan sandstorm. The enemy jeep approached and he was powerless to escape. Brain, body and lungs tightened into paralysis. He couldn’t move or think past the boa-constricting fear that wrapped around his chest and squeezed and squeezed and squeezed.

  “Look out!” Charlotte called, the words barely audible in the heavy gusts. But her voice cut through the time and distance his mind had created. The constriction in his chest loosened and he ran to the side of the smoking sedan, keeping plenty of distance between the smoking vehicle and himself. A curl of fire arose, licking the engine.

  He ran as fast as he could, yet when the sedan exploded, the heat from the conflagration scorched his body like a blast furnace. How long had he been standing there, body present but his mind a thousand miles away? Probably enough time for the men to escape. They were nowhere in sight. He couldn’t let them disappear and perhaps ruin their best chance of cracking the ring.

  He ran into the woods, the brightness of the day dropping away. James withdrew his gun, stepped behind a tree, and surveyed the area. The men could be standing behind one of the wider oaks or curled down behind dense shrubbery and foliage. “Drop your weapons and give yourselves up!” he shouted.

  The wind whistled and tree limbs rattled, but no other sounds emerged. How far had they managed to run?

  At the distant shouts from behind him, James turned to find several officers making a slow descent down the mountain. Once more backup arrived, they could all spread out and search the area, but the sinking despair in his stomach said it would be fruitless. He knew only too well that it was easy for a man to hide out in these parts. The land was wild and tangled, populated with caves and plenty of nooks and crannies for desperate—or lucky—fugitives.

  Damn it to hell. When were they going to catch a break in this case?

  Chapter Seven

  A helicopter roared overhead in the almost black sky, making conversation difficult. Harlan gestured for James and Charlotte to follow him to his cruiser. Inside, James took the back seat with Charlotte while Harlan started the engine and cranked up the heater. He took off his gloves and warmed his hands over the vent.

  “Sure you don’t want to go to the hospital and have your injuries looked at?” he asked, spinning around and addressing Charlotte.

  “For the last time, no. All I’ve got is a scratch on the forehead and some bruised ribs.”

  Despite his misery of self-disgust over the PTSD issues, James’s lips quirked upward. The woman obviously had a thing against doctors.

  “No point in you both hanging around all night,” Harlan said. “I’m keeping an officer on patrol at Falling Rock in case the men return there on foot. And I’m sending the rest of the search party home, helicopter included. I’ll deploy men again at first light. For now, we’ve done all we can do.”

  James ran a hand through his close-cropped hair. “How about we question Les one more time—”

  “Forget it. He’s told us all he knows. Thanks to him, we have the sedan’s tag number, at least.”

  “For all the good that did,” Charlotte grumbled.

  Another dead end in the case. The sedan was rented from an Atlanta company, but the driver had provided a fake ID. Shame lanced through him yet again. That damn PTSD. So far, Charlotte hadn’t brought up today’s failure, but he couldn’t let it go.

  “More bad news,” Harlan continued. “Sammy got ahold of the Stowerses. He and his wife are still in Atlanta, and he claims no knowledge of who the men could be. I tend to believe him. Listen, y’all go ahead and crash for the evening. You’ve had enough excitement for one day. And you’re bound to be bruised and sore come morning.”

  James was fine and wound-up enough to work all night, to make up for his lapse. But despite her bravado, Charlotte’s eyes sported half moons of dark shadows, and she kept rubbing her temples as if trying to ward off a headache.

  “I agree.” Charlotte’s mouth opened to object, and James sped up to stop her argument. “The best course is for us to get a good night’s sleep and start fresh in the morning.” He ached to reach an arm around Charlotte, but if Harlan saw the attraction between them, he’d more than likely assign another officer to work with her.

  James wasn’t about to let that happen.

  Harlan nodded approval and pulled out onto the road. “I’ll give you a lift home. Come to the station as soon as you’re able in the morning, and we’ll work out a plan of attack.”

  They left behind the strobing blue lights of a dozen cop cars and entered the thick blackness of unlit country roads. In the crystal coldness, the stars and moon were lit like a jeweled candelabra. At the edge of town, Harlan pulled into James’s driveway. A familiar red car was parked outside, and the lights inside were on.

  “Lilah’s here,” Harlan explained. “Soon as she heard you were okay after the accident, she insisted on cooking y’all a hearty dinner. You know how she is.”

  And Lilah was no doubt dying to meet his new, live-in partner. He and Harlan exchanged an amused glance. She was curious as a cat, and nothing deterred her from exploring the unknown. A trait that had almost cost Lilah her life.

  “Here’s something for you to think about, Sheriff,” Charlotte suddenly said. “Those men who chased us were tipped off that we were exploring Falling Rock. Soon as we announced at the office that we were going to patrol the area, the men were lying in wait. It’s time you considered whether one of your own officers alerted them.”

  Harlan’s spine straightened, and his jaw clenched. Oh, hell, he took those kinds of remarks personally and was about to flip. After the corruption of the previous sheriff, he was hypersensitive to criticism. “Could have been the gatekeeper or just plain bad luck,” James said quickly, hoping to diffuse the bomb before it went off.

  Charlotte shot him a thanks-for-backing-me-up smirk. “Sticking your head in the sand never helps the situation.”

  “Don’t be so quick to judge,” Harlan said, snapping his fingers. “I run a clean operation and personally vetted every officer when I became sheriff.”

  “Still doesn’t mean one of your staff isn’t on the take,” Charlotte said.

  Harlan jerked the car to an abrupt halt.

  James opened the back door, eager to forestall the argument. “Thanks for the lift. We’ll see you in the morning.”

  Charlotte shot Harlan another sharp glance but climbed out without further comment.

  Before James could follow her, Harlan muttered, “Like to speak to you a moment. In private.�
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  Great. Just what he needed after this long, hellacious day. “Be there in a minute,” he called to Charlotte. She continued walking to the porch without bothering to turn around and acknowledge him.

  “No wonder she’s been suspended for insubordination,” Harlan remarked drily.

  He leaped to her defense. “Look, she’s got trust issues, okay? Probably had a few rats and sour deals go down after all those years working undercover. Their lives depend on suspecting the worst of everyone.”

  “I don’t give a damn about her attitude. It’s her...state of mind that concerns me. I spoke with her boss today in Atlanta. He insinuated Detective Helms has emotional issues. Her behavior has been erratic of late—refusing to be reassigned new duties, anger with a couple of other cops she claimed abandoned her during a drug bust, and taking an interest in one particular victim way too personally.”

  “Her best friend’s daughter is one of the kidnapped children. You can’t blame her for refusing to give up and taking it to heart. Didn’t you take it personally when Lilah was in danger?”

  Harlan blew out a deep breath. “Yeah, that’s true. You don’t have to keep bringing that up.”

  “And you broke every rule J.D. laid down during his past few weeks as sheriff. You even managed to get yourself fired. Imagine if another agency looked at your record during that time to evaluate your trustworthiness as a potential employee.”

  “Point taken.”

  James stuck his hands in his jacket and stared ahead. “There’s something you should know. I messed up today. I was in pursuit of those men, but when I got near their vehicle and smelled gasoline...well, I froze.”

  “The PTSD got to you?”

  “Yeah. I warned you about it before I took the job. If you want my badge, it’s yours.”

  Harlan stared straight ahead, as well. “Still seeing that counselor?”

  “Twice a month.”

  He nodded. “If it gets worse, or you want out, let me know. Until then, I have no complaints about your job performance. The men probably would have escaped no matter what.”

  “We’ll never know. But I wanted to set the record straight. I’m the screwup around here, not Charlotte.”

  Harlan gave him a considering appraisal. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you’ve been looking at her. Just remember that she’s only here temporarily.”

  He knew that, but Harlan’s warning still twisted his gut.

  “She might as well be from across the country,” Harlan continued. “The differences between here and Atlanta couldn’t be greater.”

  “I know,” he said wearily. “I’m not stupid enough to think she’d ever want to stay in Lavender Mountain.” Unless one was born and raised in Appalachia, it wasn’t an area one often wanted to move to—usually, people want to move out. He understood this. And Charlotte wasn’t seeing the mountains at their greenest and proudest time of year, either.

  “This is ridiculous,” he muttered, more to himself than Harlan. “I barely know her.”

  “That’s the spirit,” Harlan said as James headed to the porch. “Tell my wife not to stay too long, ya hear?”

  As if Lilah would listen to either one of them. She pretty much did as she pleased.

  He waved a hand in dismissal and entered the house. The scent of chicken and dumplings almost made him weak in the knees. He hadn’t even realized he was hungry.

  Charlotte was already seated at the kitchen table and blowing on a spoon to cool the dumplings. “I’m starving,” she admitted. “Your sister is an angel.”

  “You might be the first to ever call her that,” he said with a snort. “Where’s Ellie?” Lilah was almost never without his niece on her hip.

  “With the babysitter,” said Lilah. “She’s under the weather, so I didn’t want to take her out.”

  “What’s wrong?” he asked quickly. He hated that little Ellie wasn’t her usual bright, babbling self. He’d never figured himself for the liking-kids type, but since the day she was born, Ellie had enchanted him.

  “A bit of a cold and sore throat. She’ll be fine.”

  Assured Ellie was going to be okay, he fixed a bowl of dumplings and sat across from Charlotte. Under the kitchen light, her red hair shone with a heat that his fingers itched to stroke. The bright warmth of the kitchen and intimacy of the home-cooked meal loosened the tension of the day.

  He could get used to this.

  And that scared him more than any high-speed chase.

  * * *

  “WE NEED TO do something about this. James told me your red hair really stood out. It’s beautiful, but not practical for undercover work, huh?” Lilah reached across the table and twirled a strand of Charlotte’s hair. “Picked up some temporary hair dye for you in town, the brown tank tops you requested and a few little extra somethings.”

  If by “a few little somethings” she meant underwear, Charlotte would be eternally grateful. She hadn’t packed enough clothes, and there’d been no time to do laundry, which landed her in a desperate situation. Going commando wasn’t her style.

  James stood and peeked in the store bags on the counter, then pulled out a box. “Are you going blond or brunette?”

  Charlotte eyed it warily. “Appears I’m going brunette.” A wig would have been simpler and less fuss, but this wouldn’t be her first dye job to go under the radar.

  James continued rustling about in the bag.

  “There’s nothing in there for you,” Lilah said. “Stop—”

  He pulled out a six-pack of women’s panties and a box of tampons. He dropped both items back into the bag as if it’d scalded his fingers and handed the purchases to Charlotte. “For you,” he said drily.

  “There’s a peach pie for dessert,” Lilah commented. “Why don’t you get some and go watch television or something?”

  “You don’t have to tell me twice to get out of the way,” he mumbled.

  Charlotte suppressed a giggle before a wave of nostalgia washed over her. How long had it been since she’d enjoyed sparring with her two brothers? She did a quick mental calculation. It’d been two Christmases ago.

  Way too long.

  “Shall we get started?” Lilah asked, opening the hair color box and eyeing the directions.

  “No need. I’ve done this before.”

  Disappointed blue eyes nailed her. “But I want to help. I’ve been shut in with a sick baby for two days and could use some serious girl time.”

  Dang. James’s sister was as easy to like as he was. But Harlan’s scowling face came to mind. “Your husband probably wants you to head on home.”

  “Harlan? Nah.” She flicked her wrist. “His supper’s in the oven, and he can fend for himself for one evening.”

  Was it wrong that she took a little pleasure in Harlan’s forced solitude? She rose and headed to the bathroom. “Let’s do this.”

  Ten minutes later, Charlotte cracked the bathroom window to air out the peroxide fumes. She wrinkled her nose at the mirrored reflection. The dye looked like shellacked tar coating her locks. This couldn’t be good. “Maybe we should rinse this out in twenty minutes instead of thirty,” she said, dubiously eyeing the mess.

  Lilah bit her lip. “The saleslady helped me pick out the color. Made it sound real easy, too.”

  “It’ll be fine,” Charlotte reassured her, adjusting the towel around her neck. “It’s just hair. It can always be fixed.”

  “If you say so.”

  Her tone did not inspire confidence.

  Charlotte emptied out the shopping bag, glad to see all the essentials—panties, tampons, shampoo, conditioner, body wash. “Thanks so much.”

  “You need anything else, let me know. Do you already have a dress for the fund-raiser party?”

  “I’ve got one in my Atlanta apartment I can fetch later. You going?”<
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  “As the sheriff’s wife, it’s expected. Besides the cash infusion for Harlan’s office, those property owners wield lots of political power. Much as my husband hates politics, it’d be foolish not to hobnob with them.”

  No wonder everyone was so cautious about descending on Falling Rock. “Wouldn’t want to tick them off in any way,” she slowly agreed.

  Lilah nodded. “Not unless absolutely necessary. But Harlan will do whatever it takes to solve this case. Even if it means angering the wrong people.”

  “He’s told you about the trafficking ring?”

  “Of course. The whole thought of something so evil happening close by makes me sick.” Lilah shrugged and took a deep breath. “I didn’t come to talk shop. Y’all have enough of that on the job. Honestly, I’m looking forward to the fund-raising ball. Wouldn’t miss it for the world. I’ve never gone before. Last year, I had the baby the night before the ball.”

  “They hire musicians?”

  “Only the best. Or so I’ve heard.” Her eyes grew dreamy. “I’ve always wanted to go inside one of the mansions on Blood Mountain. When I was a little girl, I thought the whole neighborhood was a fairyland of castles.”

  “Surprised you’ve never had the opportunity to go in one over the years.”

  The dreamy expression vanished. “Me? Not hardly.”

  “Why?”

  Lilah let out a long sigh. “You’re not from around here, so you wouldn’t know. But you’ve seen the tiny cabin where I grew up. For a whole lot of reasons, the Tedder name isn’t one to land you a ticket to a fancy ball.”

  “Sounds like class bias is everywhere.”

  “It wasn’t just the poverty,” Lilah explained. “James hasn’t told you our illustrious family history? I thought you two were close.”

  “He hasn’t said much.” Charlotte hesitated to bring up the past, but Lilah had broached it first. “I do read the papers, though. The serial killer incident made the Atlanta news.”

  Lilah’s blue eyes darkened, but in spite of the painful memory, she seemed to quickly shrug it off. “Growing up in our household wasn’t easy. My dad was a moonshiner with a monster temper, and my parents argued constantly until Mom moved out.”