Читать книгу Black Canyon Conspiracy - Cindi Myers - Страница 11

Chapter Four

Lauren blinked, sure she had heard the captain wrong. He must mean the grand jury had indicted Richard Prentice, right? She turned to Marco, his face the stone mask of an Aztec warrior. “What’s happening?” she asked.

“Somehow, Prentice managed to get off,” he said.

“I don’t understand,” she said, still dazed. “He kidnapped me. He held me prisoner. You saw where he was keeping me.”

“We saw.” Rand’s expression was as grim as everyone else’s. Even Lotte, who stood by his side, looked upset. “We know you’re telling the truth, not just about the kidnapping, but about the other crimes he’s involved in.”

“At least you believe me,” Lauren said. “The jury obviously didn’t. They believed Richard when he said I was making everything up.”

“Maybe it wasn’t you,” Marco said. “Maybe it was something else.”

“They didn’t believe me because they think I’m crazy,” she said. “I’m mentally ill, so of course I must be a liar, too. I made the whole thing up. It was a wild fantasy I concocted just to get attention.” Online columnists and bloggers had already wasted plenty of bandwidth speculating on the reasons for Lauren’s “obsession” with the billionaire. Because of course, why would he ever be obsessed with her? Sure, she was pretty, they said. But she had a history of wild behavior. So of course, her side of the story couldn’t be trusted.

“Prentice is trying to distract people by making this case about you,” Marco said. “It’s a game he’s playing, but it’s a game he isn’t going to win.”

“What will you do?” she asked.

“We’ll have to start over.” Captain Ellison joined them. “We’re going to work the case as if it’s brand-new, reexamining every lead, taking a second look at every bit of evidence. I want everyone focused on this. It’s going to take a lot of long days and hard work, but we’ll build a case the prosecution can’t deny.”

Around her, heads lifted and shoulders straightened. The anger they’d felt moments earlier transformed into determination to see justice done. Lauren wished their energy was contagious, but she was still reeling from the knowledge that what had happened to her had been so easily dismissed by the twenty-three members of the grand jury. She touched Marco’s arm. “I’ll go now and let you get to work.”

“Let me go with you,” he said. He pulled keys from his pocket.

“No, you’re needed here.” She looked around the room. Already, members of the task force were pulling out files and booting up computers, ready to get to work.

“It’s not safe for you to be alone,” Marco said.

“I’ll be fine. I’ll call Sophie to come pick me up.” It wasn’t as if she could drive her wrecked car. “Now that he’s swayed the grand jury, Prentice knows I’m no threat.”

He was going to argue with her, she could tell, but the door burst open and Emma stalked in, the heels of her stilettos striking the tile floor so hard Lauren expected to see sparks. Jaw clenched, eyes blazing, she looked ready to punch someone. “Hello, Emma,” Graham said, as calm as ever. “I take it you heard the news about Richard Prentice.”

Emma set her bag down on the edge of a desk. “Officially, I’m here to get your statement on this turn of events for my story,” she said. “Unofficially, I need to vent to someone who understands my frustration. How could they do this? How could they ignore all the evidence you had against him?”

“We’ll never know for sure, but I’m guessing they interpreted everything as circumstantial,” Graham said. “We don’t have fingerprints, tape recordings or any written records, and only one eyewitness.”

“Whom they don’t consider reliable,” Lauren said. She blocked any protests they might have made. “Don’t deny it. I’m not.”

“He is doing a smear campaign against you,” Emma said. “My editor sent me a copy of the press release Prentice issued this afternoon.”

“What does it say?” Michael asked.

She leaned against the desk and pulled up the press release on her phone. “There’s a bunch of malarkey about justice being done, proves his innocence, blah, blah, blah.” She waved her hand. “But here’s the part about Lauren. ‘It is painful to know my friend Lauren Starling is so ill. I can find no other explanation for why she would attack the one man who truly tried to help her. I hope she will find the help she needs to get well. On her behalf I am making a generous donation toward mental health research.’” She made a face. “Excuse me while I vomit. The man is disgusting.”

Everyone gathered around Emma to examine the press release and rehash the grand jury’s ruling. Lauren took the opportunity to slip outside, where she texted Sophie to pick her up at Ranger headquarters.

She slipped the phone back into her purse and walked over to the gazebo at the far end of the parking lot, which offered a view of the canyon that gave the park its name. The Black Canyon of the Gunnison plunged more than twenty-five hundred feet down to the Gunnison River. Sun penetrated the bottom for only a few hours each day, giving the canyon its name. The land around the gorge shimmered in the early August sun, wind rustling the silvery leaves of sage and rattling the dry cones of stunted piñons.

When Lauren had first arrived here over two months ago the harsh landscape had repelled, even frightened her. She saw nothing beautiful in dry grasses and empty land. The quiet and emptiness of this place made her feel too small and alone.

But her weeks of captivity had changed her opinion of this place. With nothing to do in the early days of her stay at Prentice’s mansion—before he moved her into the abandoned mine—she’d spent hours staring out at the prairie. She’d learned to appreciate the stillness of the land, which had called forth a similar stillness within her. She began to see beauty in the thousand shades of green and brown in the grasses and trees. Now the emptiness that had once repelled her calmed her.

The squeal of brakes announced the arrival of a car. Lauren turned to see Sophie’s blue sedan pulling into the lot. She hurried to her sister and slid into the passenger seat.

“I can’t believe it,” Sophie said before Lauren could speak. “Rand just called and told me Richard Prentice is getting off scot-free.”

“I guess so.” Lauren buckled her seat belt and leaned back against the headrest.

“What are we going to do?” Sophie asked.

Lauren closed her eyes. She was so tired. “Right now, I just want to go home,” she said.

Sophie put the car in gear and backed out of the lot. “Is something wrong?” she asked after a moment. “Are you not feeling well?”

“I’m okay. I took an extra pill and it’s making me a little sleepy.” She hoped that was all it was. Sometimes lethargy was a sign of depression.

“Why did you take an extra pill? Should you be doing that?” Sophie’s voice rose in alarm.

Lauren opened her eyes. “It’s okay. That’s what the doctor said to do.”

“You talked to your doctor? Why?”

She knew better than to ignore the question. Sophie wouldn’t let it go. She’d always been like that, never giving in on anything. Lauren should be grateful; Sophie’s refusal to give up on her had led to her coming to Montrose and prodding the Rangers into finding her.

“I had a minor manic episode this morning. Nothing big, and it’s under control now.”

“When was this? What happened?”

“After you and Emma left. After Abby left, too. I think it was just the stress of finding out about my job.” Though her life had been nothing but stress for months now.

“What happened?”

“Nothing. I just got a little...giddy. Feeling out of control. Marco was there, and he helped calm me down.”

“Marco was there?”

“I called him when I realized someone was watching the apartment.”

“That must be why he left the café in such a hurry,” Sophie said. “Who was the watcher?”

“I don’t know. Marco didn’t know him, either, and the man left. But there was something else—something I didn’t tell you before.”

“What’s that?” Sophie kept her eyes on the road, her expression calm.

“The guy who was watching delivered a package. Like a gift box, but all it had in it was a dried-up flower and a note.”

“What did the note say?”

“It was like one of those memorial cards you sometimes see at funerals, with the words in memory of written on it. It had my name on it.” She shuddered at the memory. “The Rangers are going to look into it, but I doubt they’ll find anything. Someone was trying to scare me.”

Sophie didn’t say anything for a long while, taking it in. Lauren closed her eyes again.

“I’m glad Marco was with you,” Sophie said. “The guy doesn’t say much, but he’s deep. And any bad guy would think twice before tangling with him.”

That was true enough. Beyond his physical strength, Marco had perfected an intimidating attitude. Which made his gentleness with her all the more touching.

“Hey, I thought you were going to stay with him,” Sophie said.

“I was, but we’ve had a change of plans. He needs to devote himself to the investigation. And now that Richard has gotten the charges against him dropped, I’m no longer a threat.”

“Aren’t you?” Sophie asked. “You aren’t going to give up because of one grand jury’s mistakes, are you?”

“I don’t know.” She was just so tired—of always fighting, of having to be strong when she felt so weak.

“You can’t give up,” Sophie said. “Giving up means he wins—that the lies he’s told about you are true.”

She opened her eyes again and forced herself to sit up straight and look at her sister. “Then, what do we do?”

“We do what we can to help with the investigation,” Sophie said. “We talk to people, find out what they know.”

“Who do we talk to?” Her one contact on the case, Alan Milbanks, was dead.

“Why don’t we start with Phil? We’ll find out if Prentice paid him to tell the press those lies about you.”

The last person Lauren wanted to see was her ex-husband, but Sophie’s reasoning made sense. Talking to Phil was a smart and relatively safe place to start. “All right,” she said. “We’ll talk to him.”

“Do you know where he’s staying?”

She took out her phone and scrolled through her list of contacts until she found the address of the rehab facility in Grand Junction where Phil was staying. She read it off to Sophie.

“Great. We can be there in an hour.” She punched the address into her GPS. “Why don’t you take a nap while I drive? I’ll wake you when we get there.”

Lauren closed her eyes again and tried to get more comfortable in her seat. If only she’d wake up from her nap to find the past few months had been nothing but a nightmare—not the awful reality she had to keep surviving.

* * *

LATER THAT AFTERNOON Marco trained the high-powered binoculars on Richard Prentice’s mansion. The gray stone castle, complete with crenellated towers and a fake drawbridge, was the billionaire’s way of giving the finger to the county officials who had thwarted his plans to sell the park in-holding to them at inflated prices. The castle blocked a park visitor’s best view of the Curecanti Needle, a famous rock formation. Now, instead of marveling at the beauty of nature, visitors standing at the Pioneer Point overlook in the park saw this monstrosity.

“See anything?” Rand asked, crouched next to Marco on a rocky outcropping of land just across the boundary line from Prentice’s ranch.

“Nope.” He swung the binoculars to the left and focused on two muscular men in desert camo, who lounged against a tricked-out black Jeep. One of the men had an AR-15 casually slung over one shoulder. “The troops are taking it easy,” Marco said.

Rand grunted. “Their boss is probably feeling pretty secure since the grand jury let him off the hook.”

“Something tells me insecurity isn’t one of Prentice’s problems, ever.” He shifted the binoculars farther to the left, to the pile of rubble that marked the entrance to the mine where Lauren had been held. No telling what other illegal booty had been stored in the maze of tunnels. Prentice had been worried enough to order his men to set off explosives and collapse the mine, almost trapping Lauren and her rescuers inside.

Rand must have been thinking about that night, too. “Why didn’t the grand jury believe Lauren when she told them what he’d done to her?” he asked.

“People are afraid of mental illness. Prentice and his experts played on that fear.”

“What about you?”

Marco lowered the binoculars and stared at his friend. “Are you asking if I’m afraid of Lauren?”

“Not afraid, but do you worry about getting involved with someone who’s dealing with something like this?”

He shifted his backpack from his shoulder and stowed the binoculars. “I don’t lose sleep worrying about it.”

“Sophie told me you volunteered to be her bodyguard. I thought maybe it was because you were interested in her. You know, romantically.”

Marco zipped up the pack and shrugged back into it. “She needs protecting. I can protect her. That’s all.” That was all there could ever be between him and Lauren Starling.

“So you’re just above all those messy emotions the rest of us mortals have to deal with,” Rand said.

“I don’t have time for them.” Those “messy emotions” brought complications and distractions he didn’t want or need. He turned back to the view of Prentice’s castle. “We have a job to do.”

Rand stiffened and put a hand on the pistol at his side. “What’s that noise?”

The low whine, like the humming of a large mosquito, grew louder. Marco looked around, then up, and spotted what at first looked like a toy plane or one of those radio-controlled aircraft hobbyists flew. “I think it’s a drone,” he said as the craft hovered over them.

Rand scowled at the intruder. “Is it armed?”

“No, but I think it’s spotted us.”

“The captain said Prentice had one of these. What do you think it’s doing?”

Marco trained the binoculars on the craft. “It looks as if there’s a camera attached to the underside, so I’d say it’s taking pictures.”

“Pictures of what?”

“Of us. Evidence that we’re harassing the poor little rich guy.”

“Nothing wrong with being rich.” Rand gave a big, cheesy smile and waved up at the drone.

Marco lowered the binoculars, resisting the urge to make an obscene gesture at the camera. “No, but there’s a lot wrong with being a jerk.” And a jerk who used a beautiful, vulnerable woman in his sick games had to be stopped.