Page 54 of River Justice

“He’s still alive, but he’s in critical condition,” Elaine told her. “He’s been airlifted to Billings. The kidnapper got away with half of the ransom money. There’s been no sign of Holly Jo.”

Charlotte had begun to cry. This woman who had spent years refusing to let one tear drop for Holden McKenna sat down and bawled. All she could think about was the last time she’d seen him. She couldn’t bear the thought that she might never see him again. That he would die with things the way they were between them.

“He’s not dead,” Elaine said, quickly trying to comfort her. “You know how strong he is. If anyone can pull through this, it’s Holden.”

Charlotte knew it was true, but she had to see him, had to tell him how sorry she was, had to beg him to forgive her. She choked back the sobs, wiped at her tears and tried to pull herself together. “How are you?”

“I’m worried about Holden, worried about Holly Jo. Cooper’s at the ranch, waiting to see if the kidnapper calls. If he still has Holly Jo, he might. If he’s greedy enough, he might want to make a deal for the other briefcase full of money.”

“I have to see Holden.”

“He hasn’t regained consciousness after the surgeries to remove the bullets,” Elaine said.

“I’m coming to Billings. I will stay in the waiting room down the hall until he wakes up.”

Her friend sighed, aware how single-minded the woman was. Charlotte was capable of just about anything when she wanted something badly enough. “Take your time driving to Billings. With luck, he will be conscious by the time you get here. But, Charlotte, he might not want to see you.”

Those last words struck like a poison arrow to her heart. “I know. I’ll take my chances.”

“Call me when you get to the hospital. Also, I’ll have a better chance of getting you in to see him if there isn’t a scene.”

“You know me so well.” Charlotte felt a lightness in her chest as she disconnected. She’d never appreciated Elaine’s friendship more than she did at this moment. They’d gotten close over the years, even though their face-to-face time had always been limited. It often amazed her how the friendship had started, let alone grown over the years.

“Hang on, Holden,” she said as she hurried to get dressed for the trip to the hospital. “Don’t you dare die.” She packed an overnight bag, knowing she would stay as long as it took.

BIRDIEOPENEDHEReyes and blinked at the bright sunshine coming through the passenger-side window of her SUV. She sat up, confused for a moment about why she’d just spent the night in the middle of nowhere in her car.

As she looked up the road, she spotted Brand walking toward her, carrying what appeared to be a red gas can. Realization dawned. Driving out of this rugged country last night, she’d hoped there was enough gas to get back to town after Brand had changed the tire in the dark. It appeared she’d been wrong.

She climbed out of the SUV and stretched, wondering how far he’d had to hike to the nearest ranch for gas—and why he hadn’t awakened her. Smiling to herself, she walked toward him. She admired the way he moved, that lean, muscular body, those long legs, those broad shoulders and the tilt of his Stetson. She felt a hard tug at her heart again and couldn’t help but remember his kiss. The man was dangerous. She didn’t need her grandmother to tell her that.

Dangerous to her heart, yes, but otherwise, her hero, she thought as he grew closer. He’d supported her yesterday. She wouldn’t have dragged him along if she hadn’t been sure they were going to find Holly Jo. It was a feeling she hadn’t been able to shake after her run-in with the woman believed to be Melanie Baker.

That she’d been wrong made her question what she was doing—not just with Brand Stafford but with this quest of hers to prove the kind of man her father had been and see that his killer and accomplice went to prison. Brand was right. She was too impulsive, jumping in before seeing how deep the water was. She’d told herself that she’d never been a risk-taker when it came to men, though—until she came to Powder Crossing. Before that, she’d done everything that her grandmother would have expected of her, gone to a good college, done well, graduated and gotten herself a good job.

The only thing she hadn’t found was that good man.

Then she’d come to the Powder River Basin and had thrown caution to the wind the first time she’d laid eyes on Brand Stafford.

Birdie was almost to him when she heard something rustle in the morning breeze and glanced in the tall weeds beside the road. She’d heard stories of the size of the rattlesnakes that lived in the badlands.

But to her relief, the sound came from a torn scrap of fabric caught on the top of a weed. Her eyes widened when she saw that the fabric was white with little pink horses on it—except where the dark color of dried blood had left a stain.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

ASTHESHERIFFpulled in behind Birdie Malone’s green SUV, he saw that she and Brand had actually listened. They were waiting in the vehicle. They got out as soon as he stopped. By the time he opened his door, they had climbed out as well.

“Down there,” Brand said. “On the right side of the road in the weeds.”

He looked to where the rancher pointed and saw a piece of cloth fluttering in the breeze. Even from a distance, he could see what appeared to be part of the top Holly Jo had been wearing when she was kidnapped.

Moving closer, he saw the splattered blood and swallowed hard. He’d feared there was a reason she wasn’t in the kidnapper’s pickup last night. Because she was already dead.

Stuart squinted up at the rugged mountains and the Jeep trail that led back into them. He felt a chill. “What made you drive back in here?” he asked Birdie. He’d known yesterday that she wasn’t going to quit looking for the girl.

“Just a feeling,” she said.

He nodded. “Have you two been out here all night?”

---