Chasing the Tumbleweed (2 page)

“He wasn’t nearby the car?”

The trooper shook his head. “We had the choppers up, but didn’t see anything. But this guy, Eli Crenshaw, he could’ve carjacked someone.”

Jeff ate the last of his pancakes. “I’ll keep an eye out.”

“Do that. Where you off to today?”

“Got to file some reports, then run up to Grantsville this afternoon. We have reports of vandalism, maybe a fire started in one of the old houses up there.”

“Bad news,   fires, this time of year. The whole state could go up. Never seen it so dry.”

Jeff threw a ten dollar bill on the counter. “See ya.”

He stuffed his hat on his head as he walked out the door. Even at seven-thirty the sun was already making itself felt in the high desert. He pulled himself into his Jeep, cranked up the air conditioning and the satellite radio opera station, and left Austin.

The reports took longer than he’d anticipated.
Damn paperwork.

It was almost four by the time he climbed the dusty trail to the scattered ruins of Grantsville. Not many people made the trek—there were better ghost towns in Nevada, but this ghost town was one of several that fell under his jurisdiction.

A cabin in a gully yielded some evidence of habitation. An old bed-roll stuffed in a corner gave him pause. How long had it been there? The trooper’s words came back to him. Was Crenshaw living here? If so, how come no one ever saw him?

The spot between his shoulder blades itched.

He tossed the bedroll in the back of the Jeep and drove to another section of the old town. Here he found what he’d been looking for—charred remains where someone had tried to start a fire. Fortunately, they hadn’t been any good at it.

Jeff shrugged his shoulders. Not much he could do. The perpetrators were long gone. That was the nature of his job— to keep a lid on things so they didn’t get out of hand.   He rarely dealt with any real trouble, for which he was grateful. His life was good the way it was—peaceful and virtually people-free.

Maybe I’m getting too soft. If real trouble ever hit, could I handle it? 

He made a mental note to get back to the target range as he climbed back into the Jeep. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. Maybe he should go down some of the back roads to check things out. He doubted Crenshaw would pick this out-of-the-way place, but Jeff had the time.

And the itch.

An hour later he spotted a vehicle’s tracks. It looked like a car had come into the forest from the east side and turned north. He stopped the Jeep and stared at the tracks ascending the fire road. From the wheel base, the car looked like a small foreign job. The wrong thing to have on these roads. They’d be lucky if they didn’t bottom out.

Why had they gone that way? It was a dead end.

He turned to follow the tracks. Most locals had trucks or four- wheel-drive vans. The occasional tourist off the beaten track didn’t come up here.

That left Crenshaw.

And the itch between Jeff’s shoulder blades.

A few miles up, he reached the dead end.  No sign of the car. It must have turned off one of the side roads and he’d missed it.

Jeff turned the Jeep around, inched it back down the hill, and kept a sharp eye out for any possible turnoff.

There.  Faint tracks on the hardpan led from the main fire road. He pulled to the side, not wanting the noise of the engine to alert anyone to his presence.

Clambering from the Jeep, he unsnapped his holster and followed the tracks, hugging the slight brush at the edge of the road.

Not much cover, but if it worked for the mule deer...

He spotted the rear tire of the parked car about a mile from the turnoff.  The brush used to hide it was old and brittle; a branch easily snapped off in his hand.

How long had the car been there?

He put his hand on the hood. Warm. Pulling down the brim of his hat to shade his eyes from the western sun, he studied the area around him. A white square stood out from the duff surrounding the car. He picked it up with a glove and sniffed it. Disinfectant.

After putting it in an evidence bag, he scanned the area again and saw two sets of footprints, one smaller than the other, heading down a trail.

They couldn’t be far ahead.

He took his walkie-talkie from the loop on the back of his belt and walked a bit back down the road before he made the call.

“Dawson checking in.”

“Yes.”

“There’s a hidden car up here just off One-oh-eight near Richmond Hill. Looks like two people took a trail. I’m going to follow them.”

“You alone?”

“Yeah.”

“Wait for backup.”

“How long?”

The dispatcher covered the mike, but Jeff could hear the chatter in the background.

“’Bout three hours.  Sorry. No one’s near enough.”

The problem with Nevada. Damn big state and all the people clustered in Reno and Las Vegas.

“Too late. I’ve got a bad feeling about this. My Jeep’s by the turnoff.  Tell the backup to go down the road a bit and they’ll see the abandoned car.  Trail leads northeast from there.”

“You should wait.”

“I probably should.” Jeff clicked off the device, put it in his belt and started back up the road.

The sun was close to the western horizon when he heard the whisper of voices. He stilled and listened.

“I can’t go any further,” a young woman’s voice said.

“Would you prefer to die here?” a bland voice asked.

“I’d prefer not to die at all.”

“Ooh, she does have a spine. I was beginning to wonder if you were going to have enough spunk for me.”

Has to be Crenshaw.

“Just a little while longer, honey. Right over that ridge and we can camp for the night. Just the two of us, all snuggled together like man and wife.” The sugary sweetness of the voice made Jeff’s chest tighten.

“Now move.” The man’s voice became rough again.

Jeff waited until the sound traveled away from him before he followed at a safe distance behind them.

If they really were going to make camp over the next ridge, that would be the place to take them.

Once night fell.

Jeff leaned against the tree and waited, his mind drifting. It had been eight years since his fiancée had left him, claiming he was too morose to be around. She told him it was time he got over being raised in a foster home. He supposed she’d been right, but he wasn’t able to change for her.

And so she’d left.

The sun gave way to a three-quarter moon and the sky darkened. The Milky Way blazed a path across the heavens.

He walked toward the ridge, dropped to his belly, and crawled the last few feet to the top of the ridge. He made out the beam of a lantern flashlight and heard the murmur of low voices.

What’s the best approach?

The flash of a match brought the answer. The idiot was lighting a fire in the middle of the driest summer on record. Jeff’s pulse increased.

But what excuse can I give for wandering around in the middle of the night looking for illegal fires?

He’d think of something. He crawled back down the ridge and then, making as much noise as possible, he crested the ridge and started down the other side. He didn’t need Crenshaw getting trigger happy—assuming he carried a weapon.

He didn’t doubt the murderer had several.

By the time Jeff reached the small camp, Crenshaw was alert, the girl tight by his left side, his right hand flattened on his thigh. The girl’s face was drained of color.

“Howdy,” Crenshaw said. “Little late to be out looking for poachers, isn’t it?”

“You got a permit to camp on Forest Service lands?”

Crenshaw shifted. “Didn’t know I needed one.  Me and my girlfriend were just lookin’ to get out and see the stars.” He looked up at the sky. “Know what I mean?”

On a normal person, the smile would have been reassuring.

“Yes, but you still need a permit.” Jeff took a step closer. “How about you, ma’am? Everything okay here?”

He saw her stiffen as Crenshaw’s shoulder flexed.

“Yes, officer...sir...all good,” she said. The panic in her eyes belied her words.

“You need to put this fire out,” Jeff said, hoping to separate the two.

“Why’s that...officer?” Crenshaw’s voice had developed an edge.

“You’ll burn the whole damn forest down. It’s a tinderbox.” Jeff risked another step closer.

“Stop there.” The glint of a knife shown in the firelight. Crenshaw put the point to the girl’s throat. “I don’t think you just happened by, but you can happen on out of here right now. I’ll put the fire out and get out of your precious forest as soon as you leave my camp.” He yanked the girl closer.

She gasped and a tear slipped from her eye.

Jeff stepped back and put up his hands, calculating the time he’d have to put a bullet in Crenshaw’s shoulder and spin him away from the girl.

Crenshaw must have anticipated his action. He thrust the girl at Jeff, grabbed a rifle from beside a tree, and ran off into the night.

The crash of the girl’s weight sent Jeff sprawling. His back slammed into a boulder where he landed on the walkie-talkie.

The girl landed on top of him and all time stopped for a moment when he looked into the deepest gray eyes he’d ever seen.

The instant passed when a throbbing pain from the radio pressed into his back radiated to the rest of his body.

“Uh...can you get off me?”

“Oh. Sure.” She scrambled back and held out her hand.

He looked her slight build up and down and shook his head. “Thanks, but I think we’d be back in the same situation.” He groaned as he lifted himself from the ground. “I’m heavier than I look.”

She dropped her hand. “Who are you?”

“I might ask you the same question,” he said. Then he saw the weariness on her face and relented. “Jeff Dawson.  I’m with the Forest Service.”

“Yes, I can see that. Why are you here? How did you find me?” She tilted her head. “Not that I’m not grateful. This whole thing’s been a nightmare.”

He glanced around the area. Bright stars allowed him to make out a few shadows, but the darkness could also hide Crenshaw if he decided to come back. Jeff doubted Crenshaw would give up easily. He didn’t seem the type.

Best to be prepared.

Putting his arm around the girl, he guided her toward the trail. “I think it’s better if we talk on the way. Let’s head down this way. I’m expecting backup.”

“Wait a minute. Let me grab my pack.”

While she scurried to the other side of the small clearing, he pulled out his walkie-talkie and tried to raise Dispatch. His fall had cracked it. He tried to make the call anyway, but he didn’t even get the satisfaction of static.

After the girl returned with a scarlet-colored tote, he motioned her down the trail and then followed, distracted by the swish of her hips as she walked.

Get over it, Dawson. No woman could put up with your moods. And this one’s a total stranger.

“I found you by accident.” He needed to fill the air with words to distract himself from other thoughts: Crenshaw. The whereabouts of the backup team. Her butt. “I was investigating some vandalism over at Grantsville. I had time to kill and took a drive. Saw your tracks and followed them.”

“Oh”

“Where are you from?” he asked

“Salt Lake. I’m on my way to visit my parents in LA.”

“Why didn’t you take the interstate?”

She stopped and turned around. “Don’t think I haven’t been asking myself that for the past four hours. At least on the interstate they have civilized rest stops, not outhouses with bloody knives and crazy murderers.”

His lips twitched at her fierceness. “That’s true. So why didn’t you take the interstate?” He gestured for her to continue down the path.

“I needed to think. My boyfriend broke up with me and I wanted some time to get over it— not that you really get over from being told you’re worthless in every area, and I mean
every
area of your life.”

Her shoulders slumped, but she continued to walk. “I guess being kidnapped by a madman does kinda put it in perspective.”

Now his smile was the real deal. She had spunk, although he suspected she wasn’t aware how attractive the trait was. “You never told me your name,” he reminded her.

She stopped again.  “Oh, Laurie Bevin.” She held out her hand. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Dawson. I can’t tell you how pleased.” She pulled him close and kissed his cheek. “Thank you for saving my life.”

After she released his hand, she spun around and walked down the trail.  “Coming?” Her voice wafted over her shoulder.

An hour later, they reached her car. It looked different than the last time Jeff saw it. Once he knelt down, he discovered why. All four tires had been slashed.

“Oh, no,” Laurie wailed. “My poor car.”

“Don’t worry. We can get it towed out of here.”

Where was that backup?

“My Jeep’s down the road a bit.” Hopefully, Crenshaw hadn’t found it. “Let’s go.”

“Okay.” Her steps were less energetic during the short walk to the intersection.

Jeff’s Jeep was gone. “Shit.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Laurie said.

Chapter Three

Laurie took a deep breath and trudged down the road.

“Where are you going?” Jeff called after her.

“To civilization,” she said. “Even if I have to walk all the way to LA, I’m getting out of this godforsaken state.”
At least I hope I am.

“Wait!”

The deep command of Jeff’s voice made her turn around.

He trotted toward her. “Crenshaw probably went that way.”

“So? He’s probably long gone.”

Jeff shook his head. “I wouldn’t count on it. He wanted you for a reason and he came here with a plan.”

She remembered Eli’s comment about a man’s needs and shuddered.

“What?”

“Just something he said...when we were in the car...made me think he was going to...um...” She couldn’t say the word.

“Rape you?”