Black Canyon Conspiracy

He walked around to the side of the car and knelt beside the front tire. He reached over the tire and grasped the flexible hose that led to the brakes. It felt intact, but as he ran his finger along the hose, he found a moon-shaped slit—the kind of damage that could be made by someone reaching over the tire and stabbing the brake hose with a knife.

“What is it?” she asked, following him around to the other side of the car.

He knelt and checked that hose. “Someone punctured the brake line on both sides,” he said. “The brake fluid drained out, and that caused the brakes to fail.”

She steadied herself with one hand on the fender of the car. “The bird-watcher?”

“Maybe. Or it could have been done while we were at lunch.” Big failure on his part. He should have taken the physical threat to her more seriously.

“The parking lot at my apartment has a surveillance camera,” she said. “I mean, don’t they all, these days?”

“Maybe, but a lot of places use dummy cameras that don’t really film anything.” He’d bet her apartment complex fell into that category. “And whoever did this is probably smart enough to avoid any cameras.”

“We should call the police,” she said.

He glanced around them, getting his bearings. Drying rabbit brush covered an open expanse of prairie, only the occasionally stunted piñon providing shade. Here and there purple aster offered a surprising blot of color against an otherwise brown landscape. “This is the edge of national park land,” he said.

“Ranger territory.” She completed the idea for him and managed a weak smile. “Well, that’s something. I wasn’t looking forward to talking to the police.”

He pulled out his phone. “I’ll call someone to give us a ride, then get a wrecker to haul the car to headquarters where we can take a closer look at it.”

Her hand on his wrist stopped him. He looked down at the slender, white fingers, nails perfectly shaped and painted a soft pink. “Before anyone else gets here, I just wanted to say thank you,” she said. “You saved my life—again.”

He covered her hand briefly with his own. “It’s going to be okay,” he said. “Everything that happens brings us one step closer to stopping Prentice.”

“Thank you, too, for not freaking out about my illness,” she said. “I’m getting better at working at controlling it, but sometimes...”

“I know. It’s okay.”

Her head snapped up, her gaze searching. “How do you know?”

“I did some reading.” He shrugged. “I like to understand what’s going on around me.”

“There’s nothing understandable about this disease.”

“No, but you’re doing great. A lot of people would crack under the stress you’ve been under, but you’re hanging in there. You’re tough.”

“Yeah, I’m tough as a marshmallow.” She moved her hand away and squared her shoulders. “But I won’t let that stop me. And I won’t let Richard Prentice stop me. Maybe he’s done me a favor, getting me fired from the station. Now going after him is going to be my job.”

“I’m already on it,” he said.

“Then, with both of us on his case, he doesn’t stand a chance.”

* * *

LAUREN WISHED SHE was as confident as Marco sounded. She’d meant what she’d said about making convicting Richard Prentice her full-time job. She desperately needed the focus on work to quell her anxiety and tamp down the threatening mania, but the idea that the man she was investigating wanted her dead shook her to the core.

All she wanted was a normal life—a job and a husband and maybe a family one day. But all those things seemed so out of reach. Her own brain had betrayed her, and while the doctors and therapists had assured her that she could live a normal, productive life with bipolar disorder, she suspected them of lying to make her feel better. Or was that just the depressive side of her disorder pulling her down? She couldn’t even trust her own thoughts these days.

While Marco contacted Ranger headquarters and summoned a wrecker, she walked around to the other side of the car and phoned Sophie. “Hey, I was just on my way back to the apartment,” Sophie said when the call connected. “I thought maybe we could take in a movie or something.”

“I’m not there.”

“Where are you?”

“With Marco. My car broke down and we’re headed over to Ranger headquarters.”

“What happened? What’s wrong with the car?”

“Marco thinks someone sabotaged the brakes. We’re okay,” she hastened to add. “The car’s kind of beat up, but we’re fine.”

“Was Marco with you when it happened?” Sophie asked.

“Yes. I’m going to stay with him a few days.”

“With Marco?” Sophie’s surprise was clear.

“He thinks it will be safer. There was someone watching our apartment earlier.” She didn’t tell Sophie about the package with its implied death threat. Thank goodness Marco had taken it with them. She didn’t want to upset her sister, but also talking about the note made it too real.

“I’m sure it is safer.” Sophie sounded amused. “That should be interesting. I think he’s attracted to you.”

She shifted her gaze to Marco. Did all her friends think that he was interested in her? Then, why couldn’t she see it? He stood with his back to her, giving her a great view of his broad shoulders, muscular arms, narrow waist and admittedly perfect backside. He looked like the after photo in the advertisement for a workout program. Physically fit and totally together. The perfect match for a basket case like her—not. “He wants to get Prentice,” she said. “I’m the quickest route to that goal. It’s nothing personal.”

“I don’t know about that. He’s good at hiding his feelings, but he’s bound to have some, somewhere beneath that stoic facade.”

“You should consider staying with Rand,” Lauren said. “At least for a few days.” She didn’t want someone coming to the apartment looking for her and finding Sophie there alone.

“Not a bad idea,” Sophie said.

“Make him go back to the apartment with you to get your things,” Lauren said.

“Do you really think it’s that dangerous?”

She glanced at her destroyed car, the paint scraped from the side in a jagged, violent wound. “Yes,” she said simply.

Marco tucked his phone back into his pocket and turned toward Lauren. “I have to go,” she said. The last thing she wanted was for him to overhear Sophie’s analysis of his potential as a love interest. “I’ll call you later.”

“Someone will be here to pick us up in a few minutes,” Marco said once she’d hung up. “Everything okay?”

“Yes. I was just letting Sophie know what was happening.”

“Good idea.” He leaned back against the car and scanned the horizon. He had a stillness about him she envied, as if whenever he wanted he could quiet all the busyness and distraction that plagued her.

“What are you thinking?” she asked.

“That it would be hard for a sniper to position himself here. The country’s too open.”

Her knees went weak, and she joined him in leaning against the car. “You think someone might be out there, ready to shoot us?”