Page 10 of Cry Wolf

“Beside you,” she replied. Deputy Marshal Bonnie Burton peered up at him through her wire-rimmed glasses. She held a steno pad in one hand and the unicorn-topped pen her four-year-old daughter had given her in the other.

“Let’s set command up over there.” He pointed next to Olivia’s car and started walking with his golden retriever beside him. BB followed, taking notes. Char and Coop were on his right. Still talking to BB, he said, “Get ahold of your contact at the American Trucker Associations and have their drivers be on the lookout for our two escapees. Tell them to report anything that might help us. I want phone tabs on all the relatives and friends of both convicts and a car at each of their houses. Also send one to stake out Dania Black’s house. It’s been empty for quite a while, and I doubt Dania would be foolish enough to return there, but who knows?”

“This will be expensive. Is the chief okay with this?” BB wrote her list while she talked.

“He doesn’t want Attorney General Tyler on his back. Believe me, Gabe will be okay with the extra expense.” Brett stopped by the open door on the driver’s side of Olivia’s car. She loved her Charger. She’d be so upset to see it riddled with bullet holes. Jasper sniffed the ground.

“Okay, I’m on it.” BB whirled around, and while punching numbers into her cell phone, she began giving orders to the officers who weren’t part of the search team. Char and Coop stayed with Brett.

Looking at Coop, Brett said, “So, fill me in. How do you suppose this happened?”

Going to the front of the car, Coop said, “Another vehicle stopped Olivia. There are skid marks where she slammed on her brakes to avoid crashing into them.” He pointed at red flares on the road. “It looks like Ted got out and tried to defend them from behind the passenger door. We found several casings from his Glock. He took a bullet in the head and neck. And we found these.” With his gloved hand, Coop held up two sets of handcuffs.

“Well, they did have access to the keys, didn’t they?” He looked to Char, who patiently stood by him, waiting her turn. This had to be hard on her. Olivia had been—no, still was—her good friend. She’d be eager to catch whoever had done this, just like the rest of them. If they were a bigger department, he’d sideline her for a conflict of interest. Brett should be too. But they weren’t a big department. Gabe had already notified the district office for more help. In the meantime, they needed all hands on deck. “What do you have?” he asked her.

“Olivia must have gotten out and fired as well.” She pointed to some flagged casings. “And you know her. She wasn’t wearing her vest. The first-aid kit had been opened.” She pointed to the white box with a redcrossupside down on the ground. “Someone put a compression bandage on her wound, which probably saved her life.”

Brett knew exactly who that someone had been. “Dania’s an RN. I’m sure she stayed to help Olivia until she heard sirens. She can’t be very far away.”

“Unless she hitched a ride.” Coop walked to where the coroner worked.

“True.” Brett shrugged. “But not many people offer rides to someone dressed in a prison uniform.”

“She could have pulled a gun on them,” Char piped up.

Brett highly doubted it, but he kept that to himself.

Guilt nipped at his heels. Brett had been on assignment in Colombia three years ago when Dania had been convicted of Matt’s murder. When he’d finally returned, he had done everything he could to help her, until Gabe had found out. His boss had forbidden him from using time from his job to work on a closed case that wasn’t even marshal business. Yet Brett had done what he could on his off hours. But then Gran had died, and Brett had had to let the case go.

And now—now he had to hunt down the woman he’d been trying to set free.

Chapter Four

The full moon lit Dania’sway as she powered through the ache in her side. Her feet were sore from pounding the ground. The canvas slip-ons issued at Stone Quarry Prison gave little support. What she’d give for a pair of running shoes. The Glock she’d stolen from the dead marshal for protection weighed heavy in her pocket. She wasn’t a fan of Glocks. Matthew had had one, and it had forever been jamming. Even though Olivia had been unconscious, Dania had left the Smith & Wesson with her, along with the flashlight, just in case she needed them.

Finally, the path Dania had prayed for every day and every night that would help her find Matthew’s murderer had opened. All she had to do was lie low until the authorities moved on to search for her somewhere else, then she could start tracking the real killer. Grateful her late father, who had been an avid hunter, had taught her how to traverse the forest at night, she dodged around bushes and trees. What time was it anyway? It had to be around three or four in the morning. She’d been running for hours.

How she wished her father were still alive so she could call and ask his advice. His wisdom had always guided her to make better decisions during difficult times. He would have stood by her through all the chaos. But he’d died before her life had turned on its head.

She stopped, sucking in deep drafts of air as she leaned against a lodgepole pine. Would there be any way she could possibly see her son? Giving birth to Jacob had been a blessing. She’d been able to hold him only a little while before the nurse had whisked him away to Matthew’s parents’ care. Walter had used his influence to mandate she not be able to stay with her baby the usual twenty-four hours other prisoners had when they delivered their infants. Oh, how she yearned to hold her child now and tell him how much she loved him.

Now that she was free, she desperately needed to clear her name so she could finally have that moment with her son.

She took a deep breath and started running again. Who could she call for help? She needed a plan. A strategy. She could count on Cynthia, but she didn’t want to put her in a tough spot with her husband and kids. She needed someone with fewer entanglements.

Vanessa Cromwell?

She’d been so supportive through the entire ordeal of the trial. And had told Dania many times after her conviction that if she needed anything, to call her. What would she do when she learned Dania was on the run? Would she be willing to help her? Dania hoped so. But first, she had to get as far away from here as possible.

Dania left the forest and stepped into a field with wheat as high as her thighs. In the distance, a light shone. It had to be a barnyard. Maybe she could ditch these clothes, change into something else, and find food there before anyone got up.

She headed for the light until she got to an irrigation ditch at the end of the field. A house stood less than fifty feet away, a barn about a hundred.

Leaping across the ditch, she crouched to make herself less visible as she made a mad dash toward the barn. However, she couldn’t help stopping when she came to a clothesline, where some towels, sheets, denim overalls, and a man’s flannel shirt had been left out overnight. She grabbed the overalls and shirt. They were damp from dew and most likely too big for her, but she didn’t care. At least she could get out of these prison clothes.

Locating a side entrance to the barn, she slipped in, and the sweet smell of hay met her. She quickly latched the door but froze when she heard movement.

She stood, waiting. Listening. Barely breathing.

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