“My son. Chase. He was killed.”
Each word hurt coming out of her mouth.
“That’s awful. I—”
“You knew. I know Henry told Lucas.”
“He didn’t. I mean, he didn’t say anything other than you lost your son. Lucas didn’t want to pry.”
Regan had appreciated that. Yet...she’d been thinking a lot about her son this week. Maybe because her divorce was final. Maybe because Chase’s birthday was coming up. Or maybe because he was her son and she would always think about him.
“I had tracked a fugitive, found him, put him back in prison. Two years later he was released—that’s another long story. He should never have been released, but someone screwed up in court and he got out.” She took a deep breath. “He came for my family. Later, he said he wanted to kill my husband. Instead, he shot and killed my son.”
Lizzy, thankfully, didn’t say anything.
“I didn’t believe him. Nothing added up. I was a marshal. I hadn’t arrested him in the first place, I just tracked him when he escaped from a minimum security facility. I didn’t prosecute him or testify against him. I couldn’t see where he had a beef with me. And yet—he stole from me the only thing I loved more than my life.”
Regan blinked away her emotions. She had to focus on the task at hand.
It was the only way she could make it through the day. As Tripp said, one day at a time.
“What happened to him? The man who killed your son?”
“He was killed in prison. And I never got answers. And that’s been hard to accept. Not knowing the why is more than a little difficult to live with.”
“You understand Lucas. And the Overtons. And Chrissy Swain.”
“I do. Someday I will know why Chase was killed. Not today. Maybe not tomorrow.”
But someday.
“I’m not going to let Lucas die,” she said.
Out of the corner of her eye, Regan saw something. She immediately stopped, causing Lizzy to almost hit her head on the window.
“Sorry,” Regan muttered and glanced out her side window.
Below her, around the bend in the fire road, through the pine trees, she saw a flash of black and chrome.
A Jeep.
She took a deep breath.
“Lizzy,” she said.
“Are we stuck?”
“No. But I want to get out here.”
“What? Why?”
“The mine is around this bend. I’m afraid if she sees the truck, she’ll panic. I’m going to sneak down the mountainside, using the trees for coverage, and come at her from the other side.” She pulled the truck over to the side so that the sheriff’s vehicles could get by when they arrived. “Stay in the truck, okay? I can’t protect you and save Lucas at the same time.”
“Just save him. Please.”
She didn’t answer that because she was thinking about Chase. She hadn’t been able to save her son. With all her training, all her street smarts, her son had still died.
She didn’t want Lucas’s mother to suffer the same pain. She had to save Lucas, her friend, a smart, compassionate kid with a future.
She got out of the truck and grabbed an extra magazine of bullets for her .45 that she secured in its holster. She also retrieved her Kevlar vest. It wasn’t the protection issued by the US Marshals, but it was one of the best you could buy on the civilian market. She strapped it on and hoped she didn’t have to draw. She wanted to resolve this peaceably, but she feared Rachel wouldn’t allow it.
Regan came down the mountainside at an angle so she could control her descent. It was damp, but not too steep. She used the trees for both support and to hide her approach, glancing down into the valley to gauge where she was in relation to the mine and what Rachel was doing.
She was two-thirds down the hill when she heard a car door shut. She paused, leaned against a tree, and looked down. The Jeep was there, close to the entrance of the mine.
The mine was cut into the mountainside and had long been closed, like most of the mines in the area. Regan didn’t know the history of this particular mine, but either they had shut down because of the danger it posed to the miners, or they had gotten everything out they could.
An old federal sign, tarnished with age, warned that the mine was dangerous and to keep out. The area in front of it was overgrown with weeds and shrubs, and trees grew around, so high and thick that if you didn’t know the mine was there, you wouldn’t see it from any road or even the air.
Regan needed to give big kudos to Lizzy for identifying this based on very limited data.
It was cold, even though the sun had crept up ninety minutes ago. Partly cloudy with a wind that benefited Regan because it masked any sound she made.
Rachel was out of the Jeep and had a confused Lucas staggering in front of her. She held his arm tight, and she had a knife.
A knife could easily kill Lucas. Regan saw some blood on his shirt, but not enough to suggest that he’d been fatally stabbed.
Yet, if Rachel felt trapped, she would kill him just out of spite.
Regan half slid, half ran down the mountain as Rachel pushed Lucas toward the mine entrance. Regan hoped she made it to the Jeep before Rachel saw her, but no such luck. As soon as she emerged from the trees into the flat valley that fronted the mine, Rachel spun around, keeping Lucas between her and Regan.
“Leave,” Rachel said. She sounded more angry than scared. Her grip on Lucas was firm. She might not have a gun visible, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have one, in addition to the knife that Regan saw in her hand.
Regan kept her hands visible, not wanting to spook Rachel, but out of habit, her right hand rested on the butt of her holstered gun, ready to draw.
“Don’t come any closer,” Rachel said, holding the knife under Lucas’s armpit, against his rib cage. One thrust sideways and it would cut into his chest, slicing his lungs. He would likely not survive.
Regan stopped.
“Let him go.”