Then privately, Brett had claimed to have a new job that would enable him to live here in the valley with Chelsey. It had struck him as odd to hear that Chelsey hadn’t known anything about it.
Too many things that didn’t add up. As a former soldier and current cop with the Milwaukee Police Department, Duncan trusted his ability to keep Chelsey safe, but he also had a driving need to solve the puzzle of Brett’s murder—and to uncover the reason Chelsey was in danger. Because he firmly believed the shooter wasn’t finished with his plan. No doubt, the shooter would consider Chelsey a loose end.
Duncan added another log to the fire, then took a few minutes to rub dirt over his white shirt and light gray slacks. When he’d camouflaged himself as much as possible, he stretched out alongside Chelsey. He wanted to pull her into his arms but knew it was inappropriate. Instead, he edged as close as he dared to share his body heat.
As a former special ops soldier, Duncan knew how to rest while keeping his sixth sense on alert for a sign of the enemy. After his deployment, he’d had trouble sleeping and working as a police officer didn’t help. Milwaukee had a high crime rate—not nearly as bad as Los Angeles or Chicago, but bad enough that he remained on high alert at all times.
Being in the mountains of Wyoming actually felt a little safer to him. It offered more hiding places than the urban environment of Milwaukee ever could. And was not nearly as dangerous as being in the mountains of Afghanistan.
He thought about his dad, Ian O’Hare, and his sister, Shayla Callahan, who had married her high school sweetheart, Mike Callahan. It would be nice to have the Callahans with him now, covering his back, but they were far away. As were Hawk and Ryker, his special ops army buddies.
Never in a million years did he expect to run into trouble in Jackson, Wyoming, of all places. That standing up for Brett and Chelsey’s wedding would end up in a shooting that would send him and Chelsey running from gunfire.
If he’d known, he would have brought Ryker, Hawk or any of the Callahans along with him. The idea of calling his friends made him realize he had his cell phone in his pocket. Without disturbing Chelsey, he shifted enough to pull out his phone.
The bright light of the screen hurt his eyes, and he had to look away, giving his eyes time to adjust. But his hope deflated when he saw the tiny words along the top of the phone.
No service.
It figured. The Teton mountains were beautiful, but they didn’t make for good cell reception. He shut down the phone to preserve the battery, since there was only thirty percent of a charge remaining, and slid the device back in his pocket.
A satellite phone would be handy right about now. Along with a hunting rifle. A bigger knife. And a few water bottles.
While he was at it, why didn’t he ask for world peace and the solution to world hunger? The items he longed for were just as far out of reach.
He shook off the despair and focused on next steps. If he was alone, he wouldn’t be so concerned. He’d survived and thrived under worse conditions.
Having Chelsey along increased the risk. Not just because she was wearing a wedding dress that stood out like a sore thumb, but because she wasn’t used to roughing it in the woods.
They needed to rest until daylight, drink more water and find some sort of food source, not to mention going on the move to find another shelter.
Was he wrong to avoid returning to the hotel? It might be safe if there were enough cops hanging around. Chelsey had a point about the shooter being long gone.
Yet his gut screamed at him to keep Chelsey hidden. At least for a couple of days. Although how he’d manage to find out who the shooter was while stealthily moving along the mountainside was a good question.
He must have dozed because a strange rustling off in the distance jarred him awake. Easing away from Chelsey, he sat up, peering through the darkness. Wild animals were not uncommon, especially deer, elk, moose and bears.
Straining to listen, he tried to distinguish between the normal sounds of the night. The fire was nice and warm, but it was also a beacon to anyone who might be out there searching for them.
The embers glowed red hot, but instead of adding wood, he kicked dirt over the fire, putting it out.
In minutes they were surrounded in darkness, only slivers of light from the moon shining through the trees offering relief.
The silence stretched in a way that was abnormal. The tiny hairs on the back of his neck lifted in warning. He desperately wished he had a decent weapon on hand but hadn’t anticipated needing one at a wedding.
Since the penknife was all he had, he opened the blade and clutched it lightly in his right hand, keeping himself positioned in front of Chelsey. He wanted to go on the move, to get as far away from here as possible, but knew her dress would hinder their ability to make a clean getaway.
Better to stand his ground, taking out the enemy if that was the source of the rustling. He’d prefer any other animal to the shooter, except maybe a bear.
“Duncan? I’m cold.”
Chelsey’s plaintive tone sounded as loud as a scream ripping through the night. “Shh,” he whispered, without taking his gaze from the wooded area surrounding them.
He was close enough to feel her go tense. “What’s out there?”
“Don’t talk.” He bent down to put his mouth near her ear, in an effort to keep his voice as quiet as possible. “Scoot back into the crevasse as far as you can.”
There was a slight rustling from her dress as she did as he’d asked.
He thought about his phone, and quickly pulled it out
