Camouflage Cowboy

He swallowed, trying to alleviate the knot of gratitude that squeezed in his chest. He had Bart to thank, along with every man sitting at the table right now. Because of them, he was almost whole again. He reined in his emotions and tried to focus on the case at hand. Trevor Lewis’s autopsy report was decisive. He’d been injected with a large dose of potassium chloride, enough to stop an elephant’s heart, and the hospital’s surveillance footage had confirmed the man they’d seen running across the parking lot had been in Lewis’s room moments before Nolan and Harlan arrived. He’d also been the one who followed Matt into the vending-machine room and tried to make him a human pancake with a sandwich cooler.

“None of the vehicles Nick and I spotted came back with an owner who matched the perpetrator’s height and build. We’ve got nothing.” Harlan leaned back in his chair.

“So what do we know about Trevor Lewis, other than someone wanted him dead before he could talk to us?” Nolan Law questioned from his seat at the head of the table where Bart usually sat.

“From a simple background check we know he spent a couple of years in Iraq,” team member Wade Coltrane said. “Other than that, he’s flown under the radar. Sheriff Hale has agreed to release Lewis’s personal effects to us tomorrow morning since no one has come forward to claim them. It includes his cell phone. We should be able to find out who he’s been communicating with. If we get lucky, a name will pop.”

Nolan nodded. “Good work. Parker, I want you, Matteo and Harlan to double your protection and surveillance efforts on Governor Lockhart. She’s planning to spend a considerable amount of time this month out at Twin Harts Ranch rather than in Austin. She’ll be here right up until Thanksgiving. Bart has given us carte blanche to do whatever it takes to keep her and those around her safe.” Nolan shoved his paperwork into a folder and stood up.

“Nick’s working on a special assignment for the governor, but he’ll fill in where needed on this case. Everyone, stay on your toes. We’re dealing with a determined individual here, and I don’t have to tell you how unpredictable someone like that can be.”

A mutual round of agreement prevailed in the room as each team member gathered their paperwork and their thoughts.

“I want you all back here at 0600 hours on Monday morning to cover discovery and a plan of action.” Everyone filed out of the conference room.

Nick took up the rear and flipped the lights off on his way out. He needed to grab a bite to eat before he headed out to his special reconnaissance assignment. He’d been monitoring Grace Marshall’s movements for the past week since seeing her and Caleb at Holy Cross. She was predictable, but she’d yet to make any attempt to contact Governor Lila Lockhart with a blackmail demand, and considering Caleb’s health situation was growing more desperate with each passing day, he expected her to make a move soon. That was, if she knew the governor’s identity….

GRACE GLANCED IN HER REARVIEW mirror, her stare focused on the headlights of the black sedan following her an eighth of a mile back. A knot cinched in her stomach. She’d seen the vehicle several times this week, but had never gotten a look at the driver inside. Now she was sure the same car had pulled in behind her as she left the parking lot behind the Talk of the Town Café after turning in her employment application to Faith Scott.

There was really only one way to find out.

She stepped down on the gas pedal. The car picked up speed. Hesitation tempered the caution ricocheting around inside of her, but she had to be sure. She couldn’t risk having her and Caleb’s trail picked up again. Not when she was sure she was close to finding the only woman in Freedom who might be able to save Caleb’s life.

Glancing at the gas gauge, she watched the needle bobbing near a quarter of a tank. How far could she go? How fast could she run before her past caught up with her?

Caleb’s voice reached her ears from where he played with his toy truck in the backseat. He sputtered and rumbled, imitating the noise of the motor as the truck made a fictitious trail across his knees and up his leg. The screech of a sudden stop, before the rumbling resumed.

She couldn’t let her son down. Not when she was so close.

If she could lose the car and driver in the confusing confines of the Chisholm Trail subdivision, she could backtrack and make it home undetected. She couldn’t risk ever letting Rodney Marshall get as close to them as he had in Amarillo.

The speedometer climbed as she floored the Camry and raced out of town, past the turn that would have taken her to her condo complex.

Gearing down into Third without touching her brake pedal just like she’d practiced, Grace made the sweeping corner into the subdivision without slowing. Ahead of her on the road she could see a set of taillights similar to her Camry’s.

The squeal of brakes behind her made her heartbeat kick up a notch and the car’s taillights screamed red in her left peripheral. He’d failed to anticipate her quick move. It would take him thirty seconds to turn around.

Buoyed by her success, she took a hard right and killed the car’s lights as she aimed for the eastern side of the subdivision with its rows upon rows of unfinished homes and dark streetlamps.

She’d taken the route a hundred times during the day. Memorized every turn, so she could use it to evade him if the day ever came. That day was here.

In her rearview mirror she saw the black sedan zip past as she made the corner and drove parallel with him, but she didn’t let up. She would only have a few minutes before he discovered she’d given him the slip.

Gearing down into Second, Grace turned at the fifth house on the right and shot past the unfinished garage and onto the worn path that led across a field and onto her street.

Hope stirred inside of her, but it was quickly dashed when she spotted a set of car lights coming around the corner on the north end of the street.

Silently she prayed the dust rolling out behind her would settle before he could pick up her trail.

Focused on the last hundred feet, she nosed the car in between the first couple of condo units and drove out onto the paved street. Turning sharply to the right she reached up and hit her garage-door opener before gearing down to a crawl and slipping inside. Only then did she apply the brakes and hit the close button. She didn’t take a deep breath until she heard the overhead door lock in place behind her.

“Where’s the light, Mommy?” Caleb’s tiny voice sliced through the fear holding her in place. She released her seat belt and turned toward him.

“In a minute, I’ll turn it on. Can you hold on?” She reached out and touched her son’s leg to reassure him. She wasn’t sure how determined the maniac following her was, but even a hint of light could alert him to their location inside of the garage.

“Yeah.”

“Good boy.” She patted his leg and listened to him start up his toy-truck sounds again.

Above the rumbling, she listened, but it was the brief flash of light outside in the street that made every muscle in her body tense.

Had he discovered where they lived? Fear slid down her spine and spilled into her body. Rodney Marshall had vowed to kill her for what she’d done. She didn’t doubt that he would, if he got the chance.

Chilled to the bone, Grace shuddered and shoved her hands into the pockets of her sweater, where she came in contact with the business card Nick Cavanaugh had given her at the café a week ago. She closed her fingers around it and slowly pulled it out of its hiding place.

Maybe there was hope after all.

WHAT THE…? NICK HELD his position, curiosity welding him to the spot. He’d parked his pickup on Grace’s street of identical condo units, one after another, until they all looked the same. He’d seen her car roll past him without the headlights on, then slow and disappear into the open garage compartment of her condo unit.

The door had instantly come down, moments before he spotted lights in his side mirror.

Caution welled inside of him as the black sedan crept past his location, braking every so often, before driving forward again. The same black car with Montana plates he’d seen a week ago on Main Street, the day of the purse-snatching ruse.

Nick picked up the notepad he kept on the seat in the truck and jotted down the license-plate number. If he’d doubted it before, he didn’t doubt it anymore.

Grace Marshall was being followed. And she knew it, judging by the practiced evasive move he’d just witnessed.

The car coasted past her house without stopping, flipped a U-turn in the cul-de-sac several blocks ahead and came back for a second pass.

Reaching down, Nick flipped on his lights and caught the driver in the face with his high beams. Just before he dimmed them, he got a good look at the man behind the wheel. White male, mid-to-late thirties, dark brown hair. He stored the description in his memory as he turned the key and fired the engine.

He pulled out into the street, headed in the opposite direction. With any luck he’d pick up the sedan’s trail once he made the cul-de-sac and came around to the main road. That should put some distance between them to avoid the driver’s suspicion.

Nick saw the car’s brake lights come on along with his left-turn signal. He was heading back toward Freedom.

A zip of anticipation buzzed over Nick’s nerves, reminding him of his glory days as a U.S. Army Ranger. He’d been good at his job, one of the best, until a mistake had cost several of his buddies their lives.

His mistake.

Gripping the wheel until his fingers stung, he braked at the stop sign and watched a single car pass, then he pulled out behind it. The added buffer would assure that his pursuit went undetected.

He loosened his stranglehold on the steering wheel, but the emotions inside of him refused to relent. Sucking in a deep breath, he focused on the taillights of the black sedan, determined to follow it. Out-of-state plates probably meant he’d make a beeline for one of the half a dozen motels scattered along the main artery into Freedom.

Nick’s suspicions were confirmed when the sedan’s blinker popped on. He braked and took a right into the parking lot of the Sundown Motel.

Nick rolled past just as the man exited the car. Satisfied, he decided to call it a night, and headed for the ranch on the other end of town. Whoever the man was, he’d at least been able to peg the general location of Grace and Caleb’s home. Concern adhered to Nick’s nerves. Whatever the guy wanted, it couldn’t be good.

A sudden and insatiable need to protect Grace and Caleb Marshall welled from deep inside of him.