No one. He’d made damn sure of that.

  But once again he thought about leaving that kid behind and just getting out of here.

  Then he thought about Etta. He wanted that woman back where she belonged, and the brat was the price of taking her back.

  She’d want the kid. Of course she would. After they’d lost their own, she’d never stopped sniveling no matter how many times he hit her. That had been almost as infuriating as that kid inside the hut.

  Settled in his own mind, he went back inside to enjoy a little quiet. He’d have liked a fire, but that was too dangerous, smoke coming out of an abandoned hut.

  He was too smart to make that mistake. Then he decided he was a pretty smart man.

  There was no way on earth that they knew who had taken the kid, and they had no way to find him.

  Satisfied, he even let himself sleep in an ancient chair. The silence from the brat was a relief.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Morning’s gray light began to glow dimly in the east. Guy rubbed his eyes to clear the grit out of them, then returned to watching the house.

  Soon the sky grew brighter, a crystalline light purified by yesterday’s storm. Probably pretty, but he was in no mood to notice. The night’s cold and damp had made him ache a bit, and he longed to stand up and move around, but didn’t dare for fear of being spotted.

  Instead he had to work on squirming a limb at a time. It wasn’t enough, but it had to do, at least until the sun began to warm him.

  He wished he dared turn on his radio, to see if he could get any news, but if Margolis was anywhere nearby that would be as stupid as standing up in case he heard it. He trusted his people, but even trust had its limits when you hungered for information.

  He wondered about Valerie, about how miserable she must be as well. He doubted she’d slept any better than he had. Something had to happen soon or they’d both become useless.

  But given all the empty time, all the time when his immediate concerns weren’t enough, he thought about Valerie in a different way.

  She was beautiful. No question. But she was more than just a sexy woman. A confident, experienced cop. A woman full of a determination that he admired. A woman who shared some of his own interests.

  A woman who’d found a way to cross a threshold that was important to him. She’d found a way to believe Gray Cloud.

  But was that enough?

  He reminded himself that once this case concluded she’d head back to Gunnison. No reason for her to stay here.

  So maybe it was okay to while the time by having thoughts he shouldn’t be having. Neither of them would be in danger from that.

  But she was still a woman he wanted to hold close. To cradle in his arms. To claim with both his mind and body. He remembered as if it were etched into his mind the one time he’d held her to comfort her. Not the same at all, but his body kept wanting to remember anyway.

  Had he ever felt this way before? He couldn’t say he had. Not like this. Not even with his first girlfriend so long ago. Indigenous like himself, making her a much wiser choice, a woman who shared his culture.

  But she hadn’t drawn him the way Val did.

  Hell’s bells.

  *

  THE HOURS CONTINUED to drag. The perfectly blue sky seemed to sneer at Valerie. She wanted to step outside and look around but knew that wouldn’t be sensible. Her tension, already bad enough, rose even more.

  Worse, now that she wasn’t at the staging area, she’d give almost anything to know what was happening there. News of any kind?

  Instead she shared a breakfast of stale cereal and coffee with Etta.

  “I eat it without milk,” Etta said apologetically. “I don’t get to town often and milk spoils too fast. That Pastor Molly takes care of a lot for me. She brings me bags of groceries when she can. A few times she took me to the store. She’s a good woman.”

  “The cereal’s okay,” Val answered. “It tastes good anyway.” She was hungry enough to think hay would taste good right now. “So you get television out here?” She pointed to the ancient tube TV on its stand across the room.

  “Satellite,” Etta answered. “Since Phillip left I ain’t been able to adjust it, though. Picture’s getting snowy.”

  “Maybe after all this is done I can get somebody to fix it for you.”

  Etta nodded. “Sure would be nice. I used to have a kitchen garden. When I was out there working on it...well, that was the only time Phillip left me alone. He liked them fresh veggies, too. So I could be out there and for a little while I could be safe.”

  Valerie’s heart squeezed. “But you don’t do it anymore?”

  Etta shrugged. “Too hard for me to keep up the compost pile. Needed Phillip to turn it over with the pitchfork. But I still throw scraps on it anyway. Habit, I s’pose.”

  Etta stared off into space and Valerie wondered what she was thinking about. She didn’t feel she could ask, though. Etta’s thoughts were her own, and Valerie had no right to pry.

  Etta scooped up the cereal bowls and put them in the sink. Then she poured more coffee. “I’m gonna be leavin’ soon.”

  Val drew a sharp breath. “Why?” Her mind was already scrambling, dredging up awful ideas.

  “Cuz I can’t to keep the place up. Ran out of money a while ago so I don’t do the repairs. The rancher who owns it, Mr. Dawson, all he asked was for us to keep up the place. One of these days he’s gonna notice I ain’t doing it. He’ll be wanting to get some other folks in here.”

  “But where will you go? What will you do?”

  Etta shrugged. “Don’t make no mind.”

  But it did matter, Valerie thought. This woman had reached the end of her rope in every way possible. If she hadn’t been so worried about Lizzie, she’d worry a whole lot about what was going to happen to Etta Margolis. Her life appeared to be on a permanent downward spiral.

  “I wish that man would get here,” Etta said angrily. “I want this over. I want him over.”

  “Me, too, Etta.”

  The woman eyed her. “Bet you do. As much as me. She’s your niece, huh?”

  “She is.”

  “Then maybe you ought to shoot him more’n once.”

  “Don’t tempt me.”

  * * *

  MARGOLIS WOULDN’T BE traveling on foot across rough ground with Lizzie. Not unless he’d tipped over his own mental edge.

  Guy knew that in his bones. However the man approached, he was going to need to do it in his vehicle. Whether he drove by road or over land made no difference. Unless he left Lizzie behind for some reason.

  Like he wanted to get rid of the little girl. A band clamped around Guy’s chest. Or maybe the guy would want to scout first. Also a possibility.

  But there was no reason for Phillip Margolis to suspect they knew he was the kidnapper. Maybe he’d drive up to Etta’s door bold as you please.

  Finally, as the day’s breeze woke in the sun’s heat, he dared to turn on his radio and contact the operation trailer. The voice that answered was Gage Dalton’s, to Guy’s surprise. Apparently the sheriff couldn’t sit this one out at his desk.

  “How’s it going?” Gage asked without preamble.

  “Nothing yet.”

  “Same here, so far. The cordon you set is tightening around the Margolis house. Reckon he’s got to move soon. He’s been getting closer.”

  “He was getting closer. Now we don’t know. Has anyone seen that sod hut someone thought they recalled yesterday?” Not that he had much hope it’d be easy to find a sod hut. After a hundred and fifty years, grasses and brush would have grown on it, concealing it.

  “Not a peep,” Gage replied. “Valerie still in the house with Etta?”

  “Yup.”

  “Good. Just let me know if you want eyes in the sky.”

  Oh, man, would he like a helicopter searching out there. “I don’t want to scare him, Gage. He might do something to Lizzie. You know what Margolis is like.”

  Gage’s sigh was audible over the airwaves. “Too much risk at this point,” he agreed finally. “Hard to be so close yet so far.”

  “Tell me about it. I’m going dark again.”

  Then he switched off the radio and took another scan of the area through his binoculars. No sign of any vehicle. No sign of anyone crossing the open ground.

  Guy was getting tired of the sound of his own smothered cussing. Nothing creative or helpful there.

  Nothing helpful from the heavens either. Just so deep, clear and blue that it hurt his eyes to look up at it.

  Regardless, Guy rolled on his back to stare up into it anyway and pulled a piece of deer jerky from his pocket. His jaws ached as he chewed it.

  Well, hell, what didn’t ache? His heart sure did.

  *

  VALERIE TRIED TO practice some deep breathing and muscle relaxation, almost like meditation, but she was having trouble keeping at it.

  She kept eyeing that shotgun beside the front door. It would be too deadly in this confined space. It would spread its load everywhere, endangering everyone. She wondered if she should conceal it somewhere and rely on her own semiautomatic.

  But removing that gun might scare Etta. She obviously felt a strong need to be able to protect herself from her husband. Facing him filled her at once with terror and a strong urge to kill him.

  What if she didn’t take Lizzie away from Phillip? What if she just reacted to her own instinct to kill that bastard?

  So once again she reiterated the plan to Etta, who managed a scornful look.

  “You think I’m stupid? I want to kill that man but I don’t want to kill no baby. Gotta be able to live with myself, even if it’s in jail for the rest of my livelong days.”

  Valerie appreciated the sentiment. She’d spend the rest of her life in jail, too, if it meant taking out that SOB. Pay him back for all he’d done to Lizzie and May. Never before had she felt such a strong murderous urge. She’d always relied on the law to take care of the monsters, even if it never seemed like enough payback.

  But she’d had to face the fact, a long time ago, that these monsters were human, too. Not another species. Just one of the worst expressions of the human race. Perfectly human, in other words.

  But like most people, she still thought of them as monsters. Other than human. Still, it was no excuse for the rest of the people who occupied this planet. Some crimes were heinous, but that didn’t mean others weren’t capable of them.

  That ugliness dwelt in everyone, rarely evoked, rarely acted upon. Just look at her right now. She wanted to kill and hoped she’d find some justification if the chance arose.

  Feeling a whole load of self-disgust, she walked from window to window, standing far enough back that she wouldn’t show through the glass.

  What was happening out there? What was Guy doing?

  * * *

  GUY WAS BELLY-CRAWLING closer to the house. He’d decided to get into a better range to act when Margolis showed up. Needing a place where he couldn’t be seen through one of those windows.

  He felt some self-disgust, too. He’d fallen asleep on watch. Not for long. Probably eased by the conviction he’d hear any kind of motor approach.

  No excuse anyway, even though the nap had freshened his mind, made him feel stronger. The only part of this he really hated was that he was probably leaving a clear trail in the soggy ground behind him. Giving himself away if Margolis happened along here in his truck.

  He didn’t want the man to hightail it.

  But there was always the chopper. Even if Margolis tried to run, they’d be able to follow him. Small comfort.

  And Lizzie? Tossed from a moving vehicle to cover the crime?

  Guy’s stomach churned then settled into a tight, leaden knot. He felt hamstrung.

  * * *

  MAY HAD BEGUN to feel even more frantic. No word from Val since yesterday. No news from the police except they thought they were closing in.

  How could they be sure of that? How could anyone? Then one of the people who again started filling her house turned on the TV. As soon as she saw the bulletin about Phillip Margolis, she knew. Knew with absolute certainty.

  “I’m going out to his house,” she announced.

  More than one of her friends said she couldn’t.

  She glared at them. “Are you going to stop me? How?” Into her panic, into her determination, came one calm voice.

  “May?” said Pastor Molly. “May, you shouldn’t do that.”

  “Why the hell not?”

  “Because you might interfere with the police operation.”

  May shook her head. “What operation? They haven’t found her yet.”

  Molly nodded to the TV. “Now they know who they’re looking for. Trust them to take care of it. Trust your sister.”

  “Oh, God,” May wailed. “Trust? I don’t trust anyone at all!”

  The people around her froze.

  Molly approached her and took her into a gentle hug. “Yes, you do. You trust Val.”

  At last May started to sag against Molly. “I’ve got to do something!”

  “But you don’t want to risk getting in the way. To risk complicating things by involving yourself. They’ve got enough to worry about with Lizzie and that man. They don’t need to be worrying about you, too.”

  * * *

  JUST THEN, CHET walked into the house, his eyes seeking May.

  May straightened, pulling away from Molly. “This is all your fault. All of it.” Then she stormed away to her bedroom.

  Everyone in the room stared at him, apparently agreeing with May. Except for Pastor Molly. At least she didn’t offer some anodyne that wouldn’t have worked. Clenching and unclenching his fists, he looked from face to face, taking in the silent accusation.

  He left, but not before he saw the bulletin on the TV screen. Standing out front under a brilliant sky, trees rustling in the breeze, a memory grabbed him.

  Phillip Margolis. Chet remembered that case all too well. The fury he’d endured from Margolis, the threats. The wild grief from Etta. Those godawful moments when he’d had to deliver unthinkable news and then withstand the reaction.

  One of the times he wished he hadn’t gone into obstetrics. One of the many times he’d been sure it wasn’t his fault. Not that the knowledge helped him deal with their pain, or his own.

  His fists clenched again as he stared into the past.

  He wasn’t at all sure that May wasn’t right. Maybe it was all his fault.

  * * *

  PHILLIP MARGOLIS WAS getting far past the end of his tether. The brat was screaming again. She spat out the mashed peas he tried to give her.

  He changed a stinky diaper again, a diaper that was stinkier that the first ones, trying to ignore the crying that drilled into his brain.

  Even his inexperienced eyes could tell the kid was losing weight.

  Damnation. He had to get this kid to Etta or he wouldn’t get a chance with her. What if the kid was sick and died? Then what?

  His aching head couldn’t think about the and then.

  Go! his brain was shrieking. Get the kid out of here and to Etta. Make her take care of this.

  Riding in the truck always made the brat shut up. Always put her to sleep. Besides, nobody’d be looking for him. He could just drive up to his own front door. Which maybe he should have done first thing except he’d been afraid of leaving a trail. No, he wanted to be sure no one was on his tail.

  Desperate, he stepped outside and looked around. No one in sight. He checked the firming ground and made up his mind.

  Running around to the back of the hut, he pulled the clay-stiffened brown tarp from the old pickup. Rusty and ancient, it ran good, which was the whole reason he’d stolen it from a scrap yard. Perfectly good engine in there, with a little tweaking.

  Four more miles and he could dump the kid on Etta, who’d get what she’d always wanted. A baby. A squalling brat. A pain in the head and neck. She could take care of it and him, too.

  She’d get that crying to stop.

  Then he went back around front and saw the kid halfway out the front door.

  He should have gotten one that couldn’t walk yet. But Chet Chamberlain didn’t have a slew to pick from.

  He grabbed the kid, wrapped it in a filthy blanket then went around to stuff her in the truck. For some reason he suddenly recalled the baby seat that had been given to them by the sheriff’s department. A freebie, coming with a bunch of instruction and warnings about how it was important to use it for the child’s safety. How thrilled Etta had been with it, how often she had touched it. Then he shrugged it off and put the struggling bundle on the truck’s floor in front of the ratty passenger seat.

  Chamberlain deserved everything he got. Then Margolis looked at the drying ground again.

  Now or never.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Now that midday approached and with it the breezy sounds that would help cover the radio, Guy checked in again. Gage was still out there at the operations trailer.

  “One of the searchers spied a truck headed south on the county road in the direction of the Margolis place. Moving slow.”

  Adrenaline hit Guy like a punch. “We’re ready.” He wished he could give Val a heads-up, but she was still dark. No sounds that might warn anyone. Because she had no way of knowing for sure that Margolis wouldn’t come on foot.

  Guy was sure now. He disconnected, turned off the phone, going dark again.

  But now he had a direction to guide him. The bastard was going to pull up to his own front door, deluded into thinking that no one was looking for him.