Bucking Bronc Lodge 04 - Cowboy Cop (18 page)

Chapter Fifteen

Miles stared at the scene in front of him in horror. Jordan on the ground. Blood on her blouse. Not moving.

Timmy in the clutches of the sadistic monster who’d killed his mother.

Dammit, what had gone wrong? The gunshot...the deputy barging in...

“Daddy?”

Timmy’s choked voice dragged Miles back to the moment—his son had actually spoken.

“It’s okay, bud. I’m right here.” He cleared his throat of the emotions threatening to consume him. “Don’t hurt him, Dugan.”

“Then stay back.” Dugan’s hand trembled, which made Miles even more nervous. “Is that chopper outside?”

Miles forced himself to rein in his temper. “Not yet but it’s on its way.”

The deputy groaned and panic flared in Dugan’s eyes. “Where’s your car, Deputy?”

Miles glanced at the deputy who was pressing his hand over his thigh to stem the blood flow. “On the hill out back.”

“Keys?” Dugan asked.

The deputy dangled them.

“Toss them to me,” Dugan ordered.

Timmy struggled but Dugan tightened his grip. “Be still, kid, or your dad will get it.”

His harshly spoken words froze Timmy with fear.

Miles silently cursed but gestured for the deputy to toss Dugan the keys. They jangled then fell at Dugan’s feet. He stooped down and stuffed them in his pocket.

Miles had to reason with him. “Come on, Dugan, you can get away faster if you’re by yourself. Everyone will be looking for you if you kidnap a child.”

“Yeah, but no one will shoot.” The glow of victory lit Dugan’s eyes.

Miles took a step forward. “Taking me hostage serves the same purpose.” He rested his hand on the handcuffs at his belt. “Come on, let Timmy go and you can handcuff me.”

He’d trade his life for his little boy’s any day.

Dugan’s mouth crinkled with a smile as he looked down at Timmy. His expression was twisted and demonic.

Then, for a moment, almost affectionate.

What the hell... The sick bastard.

“Sorry, McGregor, but the kid is my best chance.” He rubbed one hand over Timmy’s head. “Besides, your girlfriend made me start thinking about things. How I never had a kid of my own. How I could have done better than my mother.”

Miles’s blood ran cold. What was he going to do? Kill him then raise Timmy as his own?

* * *

J
ORDAN SHOOK THE REMNANTS
of fog from her mind as she stirred. Her brain felt fuzzy, her temple was throbbing, her arm burning. What had happened?

She heard voices and looked up to see Dugan holding Timmy at gunpoint. Miles was trying to talk him down. The deputy lay injured across from her.

Then Dugan started backing toward the barn door with Timmy as a shield.

“Dugan, don’t.” Miles lurched forward, but Dugan raised his gun to fire. Jordan had to do something. She couldn’t let him kill Miles.

Especially in front of his son.

Summoning all the strength she possessed, she shoved herself up and threw her body at Dugan, knocking the gun upward so it discharged into the air. Timmy yelped, Miles ducked, and the bullet pinged off the roof. Dugan swung his hand back and pushed Jordan back again, then dragged Timmy out the door.

“Stop!” Miles yelled.

But Dugan fired again, and they were helpless to do anything but watch him drag the little boy up the hill toward the woods. Jordan staggered to the door while Miles inched outside, raising his gun and following Dugan.

Seconds later, an engine cut through the night, and she sagged against the doorway as Miles’s bellow of frustration echoed through the air.

Jordan ran toward him. Miles looked crazed and swung around to her in a blind panic. “I have to go. Are you all right?”

“Yes, I’ll go with you.”

“No.” Miles touched her head and came away with bloody fingers, then gestured toward her shoulder. “You need a doctor. I’ll call an ambulance for you and the deputy while I drive.”

Jordan caught his arm. “Please, Miles. I connected with Dugan. I might be able to help.”

His gaze latched with hers for a brief moment, then he nodded, took her hand and they raced to his Jeep. She jumped in the passenger side and he tossed her his phone while he peeled down the road after Dugan.

Jordan called Brody and got him on the line “The deputy is alive but was shot in the leg,” Jordan said. “Miles and I are chasing Dugan now. He’s headed east off the ranch in the deputy’s car.” Which would make it harder to pinpoint and stop. But hopefully the sheriff was alerting other authorities that he was in a stolen police vehicle.

“I’ll call Johnny and tell him to use his chopper and see if he can spot him from the air.”

The police siren wailed as his taillights disappeared over the hill. Miles pressed the accelerator, engine redlining as he swerved off the road and took a shortcut across the land.

“We’ll catch him,” Jordan said, more to reassure herself than him.

He snapped his eyes toward her. “Are you really okay? You look like hell.”

“Thanks,” Jordan said sarcastically.

His jaw tightened even more if that were possible. “I mean it. You have a head injury and you’ve been shot. I should be driving you to the emergency room.”

“My head is fine. It’s just a scratch.” She barely resisted rubbing her shoulder. She thought it was just a graze, but the wound stung like fire and a dull ache had rolled through her arm.

Pain underscored his tone. “It damn well better be.”

“I’m tougher than I look,” she said, desperate to lighten his guilt. For God’s sake, he had enough to worry about without being concerned for her.

The Jeep bounced over the ruts and grooves in the terrain, jolting her as he steered it onto the main road from the ranch toward town.

“You certainly are,” Miles said, although this time a note of admiration softened his voice. Then he reached out and squeezed her hand. “You nearly got killed trying to protect Timmy.”

“We are not going to lose him,” Jordan said, injecting confidence into her voice. “We will get him back, Miles.” She pointed to the right where Dugan was making a turn.

Miles sped up, skimming the edge of the road and nearly spinning out as he tried to keep up. They chased and followed him for half an hour, twisting onto side roads, veering down alleys in the small town they passed through, driving through the desolate area near the reservation, but when he made it onto the highway toward Mexico, he sped up and maneuvered around traffic.

Minutes later, just as the first rays of sun broke through the night, Dugan disappeared out of sight.

Miles raced across the intersection, tires screeching as a truck roared toward them head-on. The Jeep spun a hundred and eighty degrees, skidded through the traffic light, scraping the side of a parked car along the edge, then careened toward oncoming traffic.

Jordan gripped the dashboard with white knuckles. If Miles didn’t get the car under control, they were going to collide.

* * *

M
ILES JERKED THE
J
EEP
to the right, steering into the skid, trying to regain control. Tires squealed, brakes locked, and the wheels screeched as he rode the embankment.

The truck flew toward them, full speed, the thick fog blurring the driver’s vision.

Miles swerved again, skimmed the side rail and barreled around a sedan, then swung toward the exit. Free and clear, he skidded to a stop on the side of the road.

He slammed his fist on the steering wheel with a curse. “Dammit, we lost him.”

Jordan sighed with relief, her hand still clenching the dash. “Maybe the police will spot him.”

“I’ll call Johnny. The chopper is our best chance.” Miles punched in Johnny’s number, praying he was on Dugan’s tail. “I lost him,” Miles said. “Where are you?”

“I’m flying over the highway, but it’s so foggy I can’t see a damn thing.”

“I’ll phone the sheriff and see if they’re tailing him.” Miles’s stomach churned. They had to find him. He couldn’t lose Timmy.

When he hung up, Jordan was watching him. She looked pale, her face bruised from the blows Dugan had inflicted. Dried blood still dotted her forehead and hair, and she was gripping her arm at an odd angle.

“What do we do now?” Jordan asked.

Flashes of his son haunted him. Timmy’s scared face. His mother’s dead body.

Dugan holding the gun to Timmy’s head.

He fought through the blaze of panic paralyzing him and forced himself to think like a cop. “There’s no need to just drive around. We’ll go back to the ranch, pick up our passports and take care of your injuries.”

Jordan touched his arm. “Miles, we don’t have to take the time to do that.”

Miles grunted. “What else can we do now?”

A pained silence fell between them.

“Maybe the police are on him,” Jordan said.

Her calm voice snapped him from the overwhelming terror holding him prisoner, and he nodded, then dialed the sheriff’s number.

A pause while he waited on the sheriff to pick up. “Sheriff, it’s Detective McGregor. We lost Dugan. Have any of your men spotted him?”

“No, but I’ve put out a statewide alert for him and the deputy’s car.”

“And an Amber Alert?” Miles asked.

“Yes, I’ve already put it on the news, but if you have a picture of the boy I’ll get that out, too.”

Miles started the engine and turned the car back toward the ranch. “I’m on my way there now. Ask Brody and he can give you one of the pictures from the camp. They took photographs the first day.”

“I’m on it,” the sheriff said.

“Thanks, Sheriff, I have to go.”

He disconnected the call, then turned to Jordan. “Did Dugan tell you where he might be headed?”

“Not exactly.” Jordan pursed her lips. “We talked about his family. He kept saying you ruined his life, that everyone believed he was guilty, even the woman he loved.”

“The only woman we know about is Renee Balwinger, the one who gave him an alibi, but she’s dead.”

Jordan shook her head. “I think there’s someone else he was involved with. Maybe back before the murders and trial. Her first name was Janet.”

Miles’s pulse jumped. “Did he mention a last name?”

“No,” Jordan said. “But perhaps she attended the trial. There would be records. Or maybe she visited him in prison.”

“I’ll ask Blackpaw to look into it.” Miles sped up, anxious now to reach the ranch. “What else did he say?”

Jordan leaned her head back against the headrest. She looked exhausted and scared, but he knew she wouldn’t give up. “I think his mother lives in Mexico, too.”

Miles raised a brow. “So he’s going to see her?”

“It’s possible.” Jordan twisted her hands together. “Judging from our conversation, he was abused. And she might have been a prostitute.”

Miles sucked in a sharp breath.

“That abuse triggered his hatred of women. He kept referring to his victims as whores.”

“He’s killing women who look like his mother.”

Jordan glanced his way, her eyes glinting with worry. “Yes. Because she’s the one he really wanted to kill all along.”

Hell. “So he’s going to Mexico now to finally make her pay.”

Jordan nodded again, resignation in her eyes this time.

Miles accelerated. God. Poor Timmy. He’d already witnessed one murder, and now...would Dugan force him to watch another?

And when he was finished with his mother, what would he do with Timmy?

* * *

T
IMMY HUGGED THE DOOR.
He wanted to get out. Open the door and jump. But he was too scared. If he did, he might get runned over by the other cars. Or the mean man might shoot him.

He was going so fast the tires made noises. The car bumped over rocks and swerved. The man said dirty words and went faster.

Timmy hated him ’cause he hurted Miss Jordan.

Was he the monster that hurted his mommy, too?

He wished he could remember. Then he’d tell on him.

He needed his daddy. His daddy was a good guy. He was a cop. Maybe he’d catch him and put him in jail.

He closed his eyes. Tried to think back.

The red came in splatters. Big puddles. Splashes on the wall. On the floor.

His mommy’s face...

He tried to make it go away. To see something else. The monster’s face. But it was dark and the black came then.

He rolled his hands into fists. He had to think of a way to get out. To get back to his daddy.

He was mad at him that day his mommy went away. He remembered that. But his daddy had been nice since he brought him to the ranch. And he liked Miss Jordan.

And the horses.

He wanted to go back there now.

Tears burned his eyes, but he scrubbed them away with the backs of his hands. He wasn’t no crybaby, not anymore. He wanted to be big and strong like Carlos.

And his daddy.

They would find him. They had to.

But what if they didn’t?

He looked up at the mean man. He had weird eyes. And he was saying more dirty words.

“Don’t worry, kid,” the man said. “We’re going to Mexico and no one will ever find us.”

Timmy bit his lip to keep from crying. That was what he was afraid of.

Chapter Sixteen

Miles phoned Blackpaw as he drove back to the ranch. “Have you located Ables?”

“No, but I have an address for him and I’m en route there as we speak.”

“Good.” He explained Jordan’s theory about Dugan’s former girlfriend and his mother. “I know you’re busy, Mason. But I’m wondering if this Janet woman might have been in the courthouse during Dugan’s trial. I would call the lieutenant but—”

“You’re supposed to be off the case. I’ll fill him in on what’s happened, then have him fax you a list of the people who attended the trial along with a list of the visitors at the prison. Maybe there will be a crossover.”

“Thanks. I have a feeling he might pay her a visit before he goes to his mother’s.”

“I’ll get back to you ASAP.”

“Thanks.” Miles disconnected the call, turned down the road leading onto the ranch, then drove to the dining hall. “Wait in the Jeep,” he told Jordan. “I’m going to check in with Brody then take you home to clean up and check that wound.”