Duncan eyed her steadily for a long moment. “Would you have agreed to marry him if he had?”
“No.” The word popped out of her mouth before she could stop it. She grimaced and looked away. “You know I was having doubts anyway. If he had told me anything about witnessing a crime, or entering witness protection I would have ended things long ago.”
“We don’t know for sure when Brett stumbled across the criminal activity,” Duncan said reasonably. “Could be it all happened fast, in the last couple of weeks.”
“Maybe. Looking back, it seems like Brett changed about three weeks ago. He became, I don’t know, edgy. Impatient but then overly apologetic.” She shrugged. “At the time I chalked it all up to prewedding jitters, but now it seems as if that must have been the time this all started.”
Three weeks. She couldn’t believe Brett had kept all of this a secret for nearly a month.
“We can verify with Slade when he returns with our breakfast.” Duncan looked thoughtful. “But one thing that doesn’t make a lot of sense to me is why the US Marshals didn’t approach you sooner.”
A chill snaked down her spine. “You—don’t think Slade is faking being a US marshal, do you?”
Duncan blew out a breath. “No, I don’t. After all, he helped us escape the mountain by calling the park services. But we need information. He hasn’t told us everything he knows. I was so exhausted yesterday, I hadn’t really considered the timeline until now.”
She sat quietly for a few minutes, trying to think back to those days she’d spent with Brett prior to the wedding. He’d been spending less time in Cheyenne—because he was avoiding the men who he’d witnessed commit a crime? And what exactly had Brett seen?
Duncan was right. They needed answers.
A phone rang. Chelsey instinctively patted her pockets, even though she knew she didn’t have a phone. Brides generally didn’t have a secret pocket in their wedding dress for a phone.
Although now she wished she’d thought of such a thing.
“Okay, thanks.” Duncan disconnected from the call. “Slade is on his way with our food, and we’ll be able to move into the cabin rental by ten.”
“Is it far from here?” She wasn’t sure it was necessary to move into a cabin. The motel rooms worked fine, unless maybe it was cheaper.
“Just a mile or so, and more isolated from the rest of town which is probably a good thing.” Duncan rose to his feet and went over to the window overlooking the parking lot. “This feels too close for comfort.”
She didn’t answer, because she liked being around people. It wouldn’t be long before she’d be starting over with a new name and new identity. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d had to start over: the move from Milwaukee, Wisconsin, to Jackson, Wyoming, twelve years ago had been a culture shock. The wide-open spaces with the Rocky Mountains in the distance very different than living in the suburbs of Milwaukee.
Where would she end up this time? Hopefully not Florida, she thought with a grimace. California had decent weather, but there were earthquakes to contend with. Maybe back to the Midwest area, Kansas or Nebraska.
None of the options filled her with enthusiasm.
Duncan opened the door for Slade who came in carrying several cardboard containers of food. He handed one to her, then set the others on the desk.
She bowed her head and silently thanked God for providing her food, a bed and support from Duncan and Slade. When she lifted her head, she saw that both Duncan and Slade were waiting for her before eating their meals.
“It’s a blessing to be here with you both,” she murmured. “I want you to know how grateful I am for everything you’ve done for me.”
Duncan glanced at Slade who looked just as uncomfortable with her expression of gratitude.
“It’s my job to keep you safe, Chelsey,” Slade said gruffly.
“I feel the same way, Chelsey. You’re my friend and I’ll do whatever is necessary to keep you from harm,” Duncan added.
“Okay, then. Let’s eat.”
They all dug into their eggs, toast and bacon. Chelsey thought the food tasted amazing—maybe because she now realized the can of cold beef stew had been awful in comparison.
“Did you find a computer?” Duncan asked, glancing at Slade.
The marshal nodded. “I began a quick search on the rancher’s property, was able to identify the buyer as a corporation, not a person.”
Duncan frowned. “What sort of corporation?”
“Not Coyote Creek Construction,” Slade replied dryly. “Something called Elkhorn Estates.”
“Elkhorn Estates?” Chelsey looked askance. “Is that some kind of joke?”
“No, that’s the listing,” Slade replied. “But I have to admit it sounds fake. I didn’t have time to dig into it to find the principal owners.”
Elkhorn Estates. There were plenty of elk living in the mountains and elk hunting was a big deal in Wyoming. People came from all over the United States to hunt here starting mid-September and going well into November.
But she’d never heard of anything called Elkhorn Estates. “Maybe the plan was to build a subdivision on the land.”
“Anything is possible,” Slade agreed. “How would that have impacted your hotel business?”
She winced. “Not in a good way, that’s for sure. People come to vacation in Jackson, Wyoming, because of the rural setting and the mountains. These are generally people who like to camp, hunt and fish.” She waved her plastic fork. “Besides, there aren’t enough year-round residents in Jackson to justify a brand new subdivision.”
“Unless there was some sort of new business coming into the area to support something like that,” Duncan countered. “If a new company opened up shop here, then there would be more employees—some with families, right?”
She nodded slowly. “Yes, but enough to build a subdivision of homes? That seems like a stretch.”
“Do you know how many acres of land Elroy Lansing owned?” Duncan asked.
“At least five hundred, maybe more.”
Slade
