Collecting Evidence

She gave him a wary look, but nodded. A second later, she curled up against the door and fell asleep, but even in sleep, her body seemed wound tight and braced for battle as if she expected her attacker to reappear any minute and end her life as he’d tried to do before.

THE NIGHTMARES RETURNED AGAIN.

Aspen struggled to wake herself, determined not to let them suck her into the darkness, but the heavy pull of fear yanked her back to the day she’d been running.

Running, but from whom?

If she could only see the man’s face…

She crawled along the steep rocks, fighting to steady herself as the river raged below, the snow-capped ridges reminding her that the water would be dangerous and freezing. That although she was an excellent swimmer, there was no way she could survive the icy temperatures or strong current.

Then the hands were upon her, clenching, hitting, choking her, dragging her into the murky depths of death.

She screamed, snippets of her life flashing in front of her. The Ute reservation, the casino, the Trading Post, the children gathering for a Ute celebration. The Bear Dance in the spring and the Sun Dance at Mesa Verde.

Her mother teaching her the ways of the people. The childhood stories of the Sky People, the legend of the Sleeping Ute Mountain, and the ghost stories her mother insisted she pass on about the sacrifices of their ancestors.

Then she was drowning, the icy water sucking her down to the bottom, the rocks beating against her skin, the whisper of death calling her name.

She jerked awake, shaking and disoriented. Suddenly she felt the agent’s hand on hers again. “More nightmares, Aspen?”

She lifted her head, pushed a strand of hair that had escaped her braid from her eyes and tried to steady her labored breathing. “Yes.” She glanced down at his hand, aching to cling to him for protection, but she hardly knew the man. Still, he made her feel safe as if he wouldn’t leave her to the terrifying memories that hacked at her sanity, tapping at the fringes of her conscience yet evading her.

While she’d slept, the weather had changed. Dark ominous clouds hovered above the ridges, the mountain runoff filling the potholes and shoulder with rising water. A chill filled the car, the temperatures dropping as they neared the canyon.

The road was virtually deserted, the landscape colored with shadows, prairie grass and scattered rocks. In the distance, the sound of a coyote rent the air, the slap of the windshield wipers battling the light rain eerie in the silence.

Occasionally they passed a pueblo style house, the elements having beaten its beauty to a muddy brownish orange. The story she’d told the children earlier reminded her that this area was dangerous territory for the reemergence of the grizzly bear.

And the ghost town that had once been a miner’s haven made her anxious to return to civilization.

A gust of wind that sounded like a freight train sent tumbleweed swirling across the road, then suddenly bright headlights appeared behind them, racing up on their tail.

Aspen tensed as Dylan swerved, the car bounced over a rut in the road and hit a wet patch. The car behind them rammed into their tail, sending the sedan fishtailing across the dark highway, skimming rocks and spewing gravel and dirt.

Dylan cursed in Spanish and steered into the skid in an attempt to regain control.

But the car raced up behind them, rammed them again, then swerved to their right and a gunshot pierced the side of the car.

Aspen screamed, and Dylan shoved her head down. “Stay low!”

Dylan sped up, weaving left then right, as if he intended to outsmart their attacker at his own game of cat and mouse. The sedan sent the other car sliding off the road toward the creek, which looked as if it was about to flood from the mountain runoff.

Aspen covered her head with her hands, leaning down so her forehead touched her knees. But a second later, the other car’s tires squealed and the vehicle slammed into them again. Another shot shattered the window on the passenger side, sending glass raining down on top of her.

She cried out again, and Dylan shouted another obscenity, losing control as the sedan careened off the road, bounced over shrubs and rocks and hit a tall rock formation. Metal screeched and gears ground together as they spun toward the ridge out of control. The car flipped on its side, rolled and landed upside down in the creek bed. The air bag exploded, knocking the wind out of her and trapping her in the seat.

Aspen thought she might have passed out for a moment, and when she recovered, her breath huffed out in tiny pants as water began to seep through the window.

“Are you okay?” Dylan shouted.

They were both hanging upside down, the seat belt cutting into her neck. She glanced sideways and noticed blood dotting his hands, and felt it trickling down her arm where glass had pelted them.

“Aspen?”

“Yes, I’m okay,” she rasped. “But water’s coming in.”

“I know. Hang on to the seat belt and side of the car while I cut you out.”

She sucked in a sharp breath and braced herself with one hand on the roof of the car and another on the door. Dylan retrieved a knife from his pocket and sawed at her air bag, puncturing it. It deflated with a whoosh, then he sawed at her seat belt. The icy water gurgled and spewed through the window, dripping onto the roof and soaking her.

“Hurry!” she whispered hoarsely as déjà vu struck her. She’d been in another crash and had almost drowned…

Her dreams of running, of being cold—they weren’t just nightmares. They had been very real.

“Almost got it,” Dylan said between clenched teeth.

The belt finally snapped, and she slid downward, her head hitting the roof. “Try to climb out,” he said. “I need to cut my belt.”

Terror seized her. She didn’t want to go out there alone.

“Go, Aspen!”

His sharp voice jerked her from the fear gripping her, and she maneuvered sideways, then kicked the rest of the glass free with her feet. Water gushed inside the vehicle, and she held her breath, grabbed the seat and shoved her weight through the window. The freezing water swallowed her, and numbness claimed her, but her foot connected with rock, and she used it as a spring-board to propel her. Teeth chattering, she waded to the embankment.

Dragging in huge gulping breaths, her limbs shaking, she searched the creek and finally saw Dylan wading toward her in the waist-deep cold water.

He crawled from the creek, carrying the crime-scene kit in one hand. Another gunshot blasted the rock beside her, and Dylan grabbed her hand. “Come on, let’s go!”

Her legs felt like Jell-O as he yanked her to her feet and dragged her across the embankment. She stumbled over rocks, and her ankle twisted but she plunged on, ducking low to dodge another bullet.

She couldn’t die now, not when she’d just found out her name, and that she had family waiting for her.

Chapter Four (#ulink_43de11e7-1769-511f-ade3-9e8cfec3026a)

Dylan stuffed the evidence box beneath a boulder, then buried Aspen in the crook of his arm to protect her from the gunshots as they raced in an upward climb into the mountains. The terrain was rocky and pitted with shrubs and brush, the jagged ridges posing their own danger.

It was also a good place to hide.

Another shot pinged off a stone jutting out from the ridge, and they ducked, dodging it as he pushed her behind a boulder. The dark sky and mixture of rain and snow added to the dangers, making their footing slippery. A second later, he steered her toward another indentation carved into the red stone, pushing her to climb higher as they dodged more bullets.

Dylan crouched beside her, removed his gun and braced it to fire. “Stay down,” he whispered. “I’m going after the bastard.”

She grabbed his arm. “No. Don’t leave me alone.”

The cold terror in her voice and eyes made his chest clench, and he hated the shooter for putting it there. All the more reason to catch the SOB.

He brushed his hand against her bruised cheek. “I’ll be back.”