“To get the girl? Or to kill her?” Duncan asked.
The guy turned and looked directly at Chelsey. A ripple of fear skittered down her spine at the sheer hatred in his eyes.
Never in her life had she been targeted by men who didn’t hesitate to kill to get what they wanted.
But looking at this man, she knew he’d intended to kill her. And that he was only sorry about getting caught.
TWELVE
“To get her, or kill her?” Duncan repeated. It wasn’t easy to control his anger when he saw the marks this jerk had left on Chelsey’s face and neck.
The assailant shrugged. “Doesn’t matter.”
It did matter to Duncan, very much. He stared at the guy, trying to mesh his face with that of the man who’d assaulted him on the side of the mountain. But he was certain they weren’t the same.
“Your team failed several times now,” Duncan said. “And we’ve always gotten the upper hand, right? I’m pretty sure Wesley Strand isn’t going to be impressed at how your cohort failed to kill us.”
Their perp looked away, and Duncan knew the guy didn’t like being reminded of his shortcomings.
“You don’t want to talk? That’s fine,” Slade drawled. “We can book you for one count of assault and battery against Chelsey. When we find the others, we’ll add conspiracy to commit murder.”
A flicker of concern shadowed the guy’s gaze but then vanished. “Whatever.”
“You’re going to jail,” Slade said. “You can either choose to cooperate or do the time, makes no difference to me.” He jerked the guy to his feet. “Let’s put him in the spare bedroom, the one he didn’t breach, until we can hand him over to the authorities.”
Duncan stepped back to give Slade room. Colt was still standing guard in the hallway between the two bedrooms, just in case someone else tried the same trick.
Duncan stood for a moment, willing his heart rate to return to normal. Then he approached Chelsey, lifting his palm to cup her cheek. “I’m sorry he hurt you.”
“I’m fine.” Chelsey’s stricken expression contradicted her claim, so he gently pulled her into his arms. She melted against him, burying her face against his chest. He lightly stroked her soft curls. “This will never stop, will it?”
“It will stop if we find and arrest the people involved.” Starting, he thought, with Wesley Strand and ultimately nailing Anthony Nettles.
Not to mention whatever role millionaire Travis Wolfe played in this. Too many suspects and not enough evidence.
Chelsey clung to him for a long time, then pulled herself together. She tipped her head back to gaze up at him. “Thanks, Duncan. For being my rock through this.”
“I’m glad to be here for you.” His voice was low and gravelly, and he cleared his throat to cover the emotional roller coaster he was experiencing. He cared about Chelsey, far more than he should.
Knowing they had so little time together didn’t help.
She stepped back and drew a hand through her hair. “Before you ask, I’ve never heard Brett talk about anyone by the name of Wesley Strand.”
He drew her into the kitchen, nudging her into a chair. “Let’s see if we can find him online.”
Slade and Colt returned to the kitchen wearing grim expressions. “We’ve secured the two bedrooms as best we can for now. We need to turn this guy over to the authorities, but we’re not exactly sure who to trust,” Slade said. “If there’s a leak in the Jackson Police Department, I’m afraid this guy will slip away.”
Duncan glanced up. “What about the park rangers? The attack on me was in the Grand Teton National Park, doesn’t that give them some jurisdiction? We know this guy is working with the guy who attacked me.”
“We can’t prove he’s part of the attack on the mountain, but the park rangers have a jail.” Slade shrugged. “But they mostly hold criminals until the local law enforcement agency can take custody.”
“Maybe we can convince Ranger Eric Connolly to hang on to him for a few days,” Duncan suggested.
“It would be great if they’d hold him long enough to run his fingerprints through the database to get an ID,” Slade said.
“He refuses to say anything else without his lawyer,” Colt added. “I’m surprised he gave us Wesley Strand’s name.”
“Yeah, except he could very well be lying,” Duncan said. “I’m trying to pull up information on Wesley Strand now.”
The marshals crowded around him to see the screen, the only sound from the tapping of computer keys. Images bloomed on the screen, and he quickly narrowed his search to include Anthony Nettles and Travis Wolfe.
Bingo. A photo came up showing Anthony Nettles standing in front of a building with Travis Wolfe and Wolfe’s chief of security, Wesley Strand.
“Got him.” Duncan blew up the image on the screen and turned the computer toward Chelsey. “Does this guy look familiar?”
She wrinkled her forehead. “No.”
“Head of security for Travis Wolfe?” Slade echoed. “That’s interesting.”
“If it’s true he really set up the hit,” Duncan cautioned. “We can only trust the guy so far.”
Colt let out a heavy sigh. “Okay, let’s just say our perp is telling the truth. How does that fit in with the idea of organized crime? If Wolfe is already a multimillionaire, why does he need to get involved with Coyote Creek Construction?”
“Maybe crime is how he got to be so rich,” Slade said thoughtfully. “We know that organized crime rings often have legitimate businesses intermingled with their illegal activities. It’s the best way to launder money.”
“But they also typically stay off the radar,” Duncan pointed out. “Rather than flaunt their wealth.”
The group fell silent, as they pondered the impact of what they’d learned.
Finally, Chelsey spoke up. “I still think we need to get to the Teton Valley Hotel to find Brett’s folder.”
Duncan glanced at her. “You have a point. The fact that this guy took a chance in slipping into the cabin in broad daylight reeks of desperation. The sooner we get out of Moose,
