“Sure.”
“I have to admit I was a little jealous of your friendship with Alex,” he said, then sighed. “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to dredge up all that junk.”
She shrugged. “If you don’t mind, let’s leave the past in the past.”
“Of course.”
At least when it came to her past where Jack was concerned. However, Terra would still like to know what had happened to Jack in the FBI, but she was absolutely certain he wouldn’t be willing to share with the line she’d just drawn. Terra was still working through so much—would it take a lifetime to heal?
“Erin’s in Seattle right now, but she comes to see her mom. She’s coming up this weekend, in fact.” Terra wouldn’t bring up that one of Jack’s coworkers, Detective Nathan Campbell, and Erin had experienced a heart-wrenching breakup. Terra believed that Nathan was the reason Erin moved. That and more opportunities in the city, but he was definitely the catalyst that sent her away.
“And Alex?”
Terra stopped.
His expression softened. “By your reaction, it would seem something’s going on between you two.”
Terra realized there’d been no jealousy in his tone.
“Not that it’s any of your business, but no. There’s nothing going on between us. He thinks of me like a sister.” She hiked past him. “Don’t you need to focus on finding Jim’s killer?”
“You’re right.” Jack stayed behind her and said nothing more.
She’d shut him down, so why did she still want to know what he was thinking? He probably wouldn’t ask for her help again.
Terra wanted to be involved in the investigation, and she’d just blown her best chance.
SEVEN
At the Outskirts Motel, where Chance had paid cash for a room, he counted out what was left of the few bills he always kept with him for emergencies. If this wasn’t an emergency, he didn’t know what was. He’d at least purchased a cheap burner phone. Depending on how long it took him to get out of this situation, he wasn’t sure he could live on a hundred and fifty bucks. If he survived this, he would make sure to increase his emergency cash on hand.
If Chance didn’t figure out who was behind the deliveries, he would be dead. But there were worse things than death.
Chance stared at the phone. What an idiot he’d been nearly twenty years ago. One simple mistake born of greed and stupidity had brought him to this point in his life—the ripple effect of one stone tossed on a pond.
He set the phone aside, piled the two shabby pillows behind his head on the bed, and rested his aching body while he surfed the television for a local news channel. Maybe he would learn more about his plane crash. He’d communicated with the NTSB that he’d been in the hospital and would call them soon.
Maybe his delivery contact had seen the news that the plane had crashed, but Chance doubted that, even then, he would be given mercy if he didn’t deliver the package. This one last delivery that was to secure his freedom forever might be the delivery that put the nails in his coffin.
Chance sat forward as a news story played about a body found in the forest, and the images revealed a vaguely familiar face.
Fuzzy memories came back.
He’d been twisted up in the cockpit for how long, he didn’t know, when a concerned face appeared, the voice gruff as the man had spoken.
“Don’t worry, buddy. Help is on the way. You hang in there. You’re going to be all right.” That man’s face now appeared on the television.
A sick feeling engulfed Chance.
He had no doubt that saving Chance’s life had cost Jim Raymond his own.
EIGHT
The next morning, Jack rose early and showered. He tried to get Terra out of his mind, but he couldn’t shake images of the past that collided with yesterday’s encounter. Distance and time had never completely removed her from his thoughts. Pulling on a T-shirt, he thought back to her words. She wanted to put the past behind them. Could they ever truly do that? Facing Terra and interacting with her had taken all his mental muscle. Emotional dexterity too.
Last night, he’d only been trying to make conversation to ease the pained look on her face at seeing the memorial again, nothing more, and she’d admonished him.
He forced his thoughts back to what mattered—finding Jim Raymond’s killer. Was the killer still in the area? The county or state? Had Jim sold someone insurance that hadn’t paid as promised and they had taken revenge?
Jack read a text from Deputy Sarnes—more information about Jim’s activities that might or might not be related. His head was spinning in too many directions. He thought through his next steps. Sheriff Gibson had told Jim’s wife, Pauline, the news last night and instructed Jack to hold off on talking to her until the morning. Said she was too upset to be coherent and that a doctor had given her a sedative. Jack was as compassionate as the next guy—or detective or special agent—but would have preferred to speak to her last night.
Regardless, news of a killer on the mountain would spread like a Montana wildfire through the county seat, Big Rapids, where Jim was known and loved, and eventually throughout Grayback County.
The pressure was on to find a killer.
Jack had grown up here, and had only been back in the area for about three months, working in his new capacity as a detective. While many of the same rules applied, the job was a lot different from his position as Special Agent Jack Tanner, or
