couple of their cattle had been stolen. After I was elected, Judge Parker explained that his wife takes hospitality seriously, and he’d appreciate it if I accepted in the future.”
“You should have told me Parker was a judge. I didn’t even remember he was an attorney.”
“Nonpracticing at the time. He was on the Board of Supervisors. Now, he’s a state Superior Court justice. Word is he’s up for consideration to the Appellate Court.”
“That’s a big jump.”
Nick shrugged. “He has friends in high places.”
“Wonderful,” Quinn said cynically.
Nick shot him a glance. “You’re not thinking that Richard Parker has anything to do with what’s been happening to these girls?”
Quinn didn’t say anything for a minute. “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “We have no witnesses, and Miranda only had vague impressions of her attacker’s shape and size.”
The Butcher not only kept his victims bound in chains to the floor, but he blindfolded them. Miranda swore she would know him by smell, but a man’s scent would be next to impossible to get a conviction on. They needed hard evidence.
Quinn hadn’t realized how much he had missed Miranda until he saw her today. He’d wanted to touch her, make sure she was really there, in the flesh and not another dream.
“She led us to the shack she’d been held in,” Nick continued. “She tracked down where the Croft sisters had been imprisoned. Miranda has led us to more evidence than anything you or I could have done on our own.”
Quinn knew it, and he knew why. The very reasons why Miranda would have made a damn good FBI agent were the same reasons why she would likely have gotten herself killed.
Miranda was driven, steadfast, unwavering in her pursuit of a killer. But she was obsessed with the Butcher. The case ate at her until it consumed her existence. Quinn didn’t blame her. Hell, who would? The bastard had destroyed her life. She’d had to rebuild it, brick by brick. And, amazingly, she had become an intensely strong woman. No longer a victim, but someone whom Quinn greatly admired for her ability to heal.
While she had dealt with being raped and tortured better than any victim he’d ever met, she hadn’t handled the survivor’s guilt. She blamed herself for Sharon’s murder, and her decision to join the FBI was more to avenge Sharon than to become an agent. And, ultimately, it was her need for vengeance that showed up in the psychological tests. Quinn had gone to bat for her time and time again, but when faced with the results of repeated sessions with the shrink, he had to agree Miranda wasn’t ready.
He ran a hand over his face and closed his eyes. Because he’d loved her, and because his recommendation as much as her qualifications led to her acceptance into the Academy in the first place, he’d insisted that he be the one to tell her.
It hadn’t gone well.
He would never forget the look of betrayal in Miranda’s deep blue eyes when he told her she was out of the Academy. Was it really ten years ago? Damn, he missed her.
“Shit,” Nick muttered as he slammed on the brakes. Quinn jerked in the passenger seat, opened his eyes.
There were at least thirty Jeeps, trucks, and cars parked along Route 84. Quinn scanned the area. “Miranda finally gained some sense. Her Jeep isn’t here.”
Nick glanced at Quinn as he carefully turned onto the rough logging road. “You think she didn’t just drive in?”
“You said no unauthorized personnel could use the old road,” Quinn said. “I would-”
“Quinn, she
“It has nothing to do with protection, and everything to do with jeopardizing this case.”
“Miranda knows these woods better than anyone, including me. I’d be surprised if she didn’t have every hill and crevice memorized. She has a frickin’ map on her bedroom wall! She sleeps and rises to six red pins staring at her, reminding her that she survived.” Nick took a deep breath. “Seven. Seven pins now.”
Quinn glanced at Nick’s hard profile, but couldn’t miss the emotion tightening his expression. He didn’t know whether it was his naked emotions or the rawness in his voice, but Quinn knew with certainty that Nick was still in love with Miranda. He pictured Nick in Miranda’s bedroom staring at the map that had become such a focal point in her life. Nick would be wanting to help Miranda find peace, but unable to tear her away from her nightmares. Quinn shifted uncomfortably.
He’d heard about their relationship from his partner, Colleen Thorne, when she returned from investigating the Croft sisters’ murder. Years after Miranda stopped speaking to him, refused to see him, it still hurt to think about her with another man. Even one he liked and respected.
Damn, he’d loved her! Few women could compare to Miranda. Her intensity, her laugh, her strength, her strong sense of right and wrong. Everything about Miranda was passionate, from how she lived her life to her quest for justice.
That she’d turned to Nick when she was ready for another relationship irritated and hurt him. She’d forced him to give her space, and against his better judgment he did. But she never came back to Quantico, never returned his calls, never accepted that he’d made the only decision possible. Then, she started seeing Nick.
He didn’t want to know about their relationship, but he couldn’t stop himself from asking, “What happened?”
“What?”
“Why’d you two break up?”
Nick shrugged. “Lots of things. Mostly, I couldn’t stand not being able to protect her.”
“Hmm.” Miranda didn’t need protection, except from herself. What she needed was to get over the guilt. But she never recognized her obsession, let alone did anything to fix it.
“I think what did it was I wanted to take her away from Montana,” Nick said. “I could be a cop anywhere. I’d always thought Texas would be a good place to live. A helluva lot warmer than the Gallatin Valley.”
“I can just picture you with a white ten-gallon hat,” Quinn said with a half-smile.
“Miranda wouldn’t leave. She’s determined to do what she can to protect the women of Bozeman. She teaches a self-defense class every week at the University. She heads up the search and rescue-not just when another co-ed turns up missing, but when hikers are lost, skiers disappear in an avalanche, anything. Last year two little girls wandered off from their campsite just this side of the Wyoming border, in Yellowstone. Miranda tracked them, found them, and brought them to safety.”
Quinn said nothing. What could he say? He had no claim to Miranda, no right to know anything about her. But dammit, he wanted to. He wanted to know everything that had happened in her life during the ten years since he’d last seen her.
“Thanks for coming, Quinn,” Nick said several moments later. “I know it’s not easy on you to work with her.”
As Nick stopped the truck behind Miranda’s red Jeep, Quinn said, “I have no problem working with Miranda, but if she crosses the line she has to be pulled.”
“Agreed.”
They got out of the SUV and the first thing Quinn noticed was Miranda standing up on a ledge, hands on her hips.
“Where have you been?” She bounded down the embankment and stood in front of them, jaw set. “You said two hours, it’s been nearly three!”
Though pale and thin, her deep blue eyes rimmed with fatigue, Miranda was a beautiful woman. A bundle of barely contained energy and strength Quinn had always admired.
“We went to interview the boys who found the body,” Nick said.
Quinn wanted to ask Miranda what business it was of hers, but bit his tongue. She was part of the investigation, at least for the time being. Nick had already established her role and Quinn wasn’t going to step on his toes.
Not yet, anyway.
So the sheriff had brought in the Feds again.
