Escape From the Badlands (8 page)

“So you really think someone messed with your bike?”

Shane nodded.

“Why would they do that?”

“I don’t know.”

Gleeson eyed him. “You sure?”

Shane stopped. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing—it’s just that maybe you’ve got an ulterior motive in being here. Maybe you’re here to stir up trouble, and somebody wants to prevent you from doing that.”

The two eyed each other silently until Shane spoke. “Or maybe someone here has a guilty conscience.”

Gleeson’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Who doesn’t?” He continued on a few paces. “Strange that the bike is missing, the one that would prove or disprove your sabotage story.”

“Very strange. Do you have any idea where it might be?”

“No. I’d tell you if I did. We’re partners, right?”

As they approached the campground, Shane wondered. Partners? Or enemies?

The day finally caught up with Shane, and his legs felt like lead as he walked toward his trailer. Gleeson was lying—he knew that. Maybe he’d cut the spokes himself, but how would he benefit from Shane getting hurt—or worse? Had Ackerman figured out Shane’s real motive and paid Gleeson to get rid of him?

He was so deep in thought, he almost didn’t see her at first. Kelly sat on the step to her trailer with Paddy Paws on her lap, both of them motionless, except for the stroking of her fingers on the cat’s fur. She didn’t seem to notice his approach, her eyes riveted to a spot on the ground.

“Hey, Kell,” he said softly.

She looked up, but there was no light in her face, none of the sparkling vivacity that he loved in her. He gave the cat a scratch behind the ears. “Remember me, cat? We took a swim together, only I did all the paddling.” He eased onto the step next to Kelly. A new veil of clouds danced across the moon. “We might get some rain soon.”

She didn’t answer.

Bring up the weather. Smooth, Shane.
He remembered a time when he could talk to her about anything. Well, almost anything.

“News?” he asked.

She shook her head.

He sighed. “If there’s anything I can do—anything at all, I hope you’ll tell me.”

She gave him a quick look and caught her lip between her teeth. “I just keep sitting here thinking that it might really be over and feeling guilty because…”

“Why would you feel guilty about any of this?”

She got up, the cat cradled in her arms, and walked aimlessly. He followed. “Tell me, Kell. Why would you feel like this was your fault in any way?”

She looked at him, eyes brimming, and he was struck again by how beautiful she was. She had always been the most exquisite woman he had ever laid eyes on. And what he knew about the sterling quality of her character made her even more breathtaking in his eyes. He pressed on. “Talk to me.”

She shook her head and one tear slipped down her cheek. “I never believed in Rose.”

“What do you mean?”

“She told me so many times she’d get sober, find a steady job. And then she had Charlie.” Kelly paced back and forth. “She had a child, a perfect little boy. If that isn’t reason enough to change, then nothing is.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that deep down in my heart, I never believed she would really beat it.” She looked at him full-on then. “I spent so many years praying that my mother would. She did, you know. Well, I guess you probably didn’t know that, but my mother did get clean. She was murdered, and it was made to look like an OD. My uncle almost died bringing the guy to justice.”

He cringed. A bombshell truth, and he hadn’t even known about it.

“So you had reasons for worrying that your sister wouldn’t straighten out. Good reasons. No guilt in that.”

“Maybe if I had had more faith, if I had trusted that the Lord would bring her home…”

He touched her shoulder and squeezed. “This isn’t about you or the Lord. Rose made her own choices, and now…”

“And now my sister is dead.”

Shane didn’t get a chance to respond. They were both startled by a thunk. Whirling, Shane saw Gwen standing a few feet away, a look of horror on her face, a basket of spilled laundry at her feet.

EIGHT

“W
hat did you say?” she whispered. “Your sister is dead?”

Kelly appeared too startled to answer.

“We’re not certain,” Shane said. “Did you know Rose?”

Gwen’s eyes shifted from Shane to Kelly. “No, no. I don’t know her. It startled me, is all. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”

Kelly took a step closer. “Gwen, I feel like you’re not telling me something. Why are you so interested in my sister? And Charlie?”

She bent over and began shoveling the laundry back into the basket. “No reason. I felt bad when I heard you say that about your sister. I was thinking about the little boy and how he wouldn’t have his mother. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

Kelly frowned at her. She was about to press the woman further, but Shane sensed that Gwen was ready to bolt.

He gave her a friendly smile. “This your first race?”

She nodded, looking slightly more relaxed. “My cousin talked me into it. I watched a little of the race last year, and I figured I could manage it.”

“A nice group of people, don’t you think? Betsy must have friends here since she helped out last year.”

She didn’t answer.

“Did you ever get to meet a gal from last year’s race? A friend of Betsy’s, I think. Ellen Brown. A blonde…”

It was impossible to tell in the gloom, but he thought he saw a flitter of something in her face at the mention of the name.

“No. I don’t think I ever met her.”

“Gwen…” Kelly started to say, but the woman had already turned and hurried away.

Kelly stared at Shane. “What do you make of that?”

He following the departing figure with his eyes. “Strange.”

“I feel somehow as if she’s connected to my sister, but she couldn’t be, could she?”

“Certainly not that she’s going to admit to.”

Kelly chewed her lip, nuzzling Paddy under her chin. “I get the oddest feeling from her. Am I imagining things?”

He could find no words. Though he tried his best to think of comforting things to say, he came up with nothing. She said goodnight and closed the door. He found his way back to his own trailer and fixed himself a sandwich that he didn’t really taste.

Gleeson, Gwen, Betsy, Ackerman, Chenko. They all raced around in his mind, pulling his thoughts in different directions. In spite of the confusion, one face rose to the top.

Kelly.

Tomorrow the race would start in earnest. Whoever had tried to sideline him today would have another chance soon. And tomorrow, Kelly would find out if her sister Rose was dead or alive.

He wished he had a prayer to offer to ease the anguish in her heart, but he had nothing to give God but rage and resentment.

Tomorrow he would be on his own to face whatever was in store for him.

Kelly awoke before sunup, drenched in sweat. Had the phone rung? She listened, heart pounding. No. It was just in her dream.

She dragged herself out of bed, careful not to wake Charlie, and went to fix some coffee. Aunt Jean was already up, hands folded across her lap, lost in thought.

“Did you get any sleep?” Kelly whispered.

“Not much, honey. You?”

Kelly sank down with a sigh into the chair across from her. “I’m scared.”

“Me, too.”

“I prayed and prayed.”

“Same here.” Jean reached over and gripped Kelly’s hand. “We’ll get through this. I’m praying the Lord didn’t call Rosie home, not while her little boy needs her, but if He did…”

“If He did…” Kelly felt her eyes fill, so she forced a deep breath. “I’ll be as good a parent to Charlie as I can.”

“I know.”

Kelly thought about how she would tell Charlie that his mother had died. The little boy had asked a few times who his father was, but Kelly could honestly say she did not know. Rose had never shared that information, and now Kelly might never get the chance to ask. Turning away, she looked at the clock. Six fifteen. The racers would have a light breakfast at 7:30 and head to the site. The mountain-biking event was set to kick off at 9:00 and last until after sunset. She would be there, checking in on the racers, on standby for any injuries.

She noticed a tray with two coffees, juice and a plateful of bagels.

“Where did that come from?”

“It was on the doorstep when I got up, along with a note.” Aunt Jean pointed to a scrap on the counter.

Thought you might want to have breakfast in your trailer. Let me know if you need anything. S

Kelly sighed. It was just the sort of thing Shane would do, had done often in the time they were together. Once he’d even had a pizza and two dozen roses delivered to her apartment during an intense cram session before her chemistry exam. She felt Jean’s eyes on her.

“So where exactly do you and Shane stand?” she asked, taking the coffee Kelly handed her.

“Nowhere.”

She eyed the bagels. “He must think highly of you.”

“Not highly enough to stay.” Kelly picked at a bagel. “As soon as I took Charlie in, he ran. He never wanted to be a father. I knew that, but I thought…I imagined…never mind.”

Charlie padded sleepily into the kitchen and climbed up to the table. Both Aunt Jean and Kelly kissed him.

“So you’re going to stay with Aunt Jean today, Charlie, while I go to work. Will you be a good boy for her?”

He nodded solemnly and sipped the orange juice.

Kelly raised an eyebrow. “And you’ll call me as soon as there’s news,” she whispered.

“Yes.”

“Promise?”

Aunt Jean held up her fingers in a Girl Scout salute. “I promise.”

A quick shower and Kelly was in a fresh pair of pants borrowed from Betsy. She didn’t see Shane as she drove up to the starting line with a car full of medical supplies. Had the bike turned up anywhere, she wondered? If Shane was right, then someone really had been trying to frighten him…or worse.

She pushed down a pang of fear. Shane could take care of himself. Most likely he’d been wrong about the spokes. Still, the feeling of unease stuck with her. She saw Shane looking closely at his bike, and Betsy, seemingly in good spirits in spite of the bandage on her face. She lost them in the crowd for a moment.

Devin appeared at her shoulder. “Hi there. Sleep okay?”

“Sure. Did you? I imagine you were worried about Betsy.”

He took the lens cap off his camera. “She assured me she was okay. Hard to know what to believe sometimes,” he mumbled.

“Oh?” Kelly caught the subtle current of anger in the words.

“Never mind,” he said brightly. “It’s race day and I’ve got pictures to take. Got your radio?”

“Yes.” She waved the antenna at him. “Right here.”

“Great. After we get them started, I can show you a great midpoint to keep an eye on the action.” He snapped a picture of her before she could turn away. “Gotcha.”

“Can I ask a question?”

“You can ask me anything.”

Kelly leaned slightly away. “I was looking through the files, and you had a racer leave last year due to illness.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Um, yes. I remember that.”

“What sort of illness was it?”

His eyebrows quirked. “Why do you want to know?”

She shrugged. “Professional curiosity. I wondered if it was something contagious, and how it was handled by the previous medic.”

He thought for a moment. “I think it was a flu or something like that. She went to the hospital overnight and then decided to quit the race. Nothing too dramatic.” He waved his camera. “Gotta go.”

She watched him trot to the starting line and scope out a spot to catch the racers as they took off. She spotted Shane and Gleeson among the group, red helmets shining in the sunlight. Shane waved at her as Chenko climbed atop a rock, starting gun in hand.

The shot rang out and the racers surged forward in an untidy pack, clumping together along the first mile, which was relatively flat. They began to slow and spread out as they approached the descent that led to the turn where Betsy had gone down.

Her stomach tightened. She’d knew Shane would go over his new bike meticulously, filling the tires, lubing the chain, until he was satisfied that no accident would occur during the race.

She wasn’t so sure. A feeling of dread clung to her and would not be shaken off. Was it her fear that Uncle Bill would return with news that Rose was dead? She shut the anxious thoughts down, busying herself checking her clipboard to make sure she had all the racers accounted for and rechecking her medical supplies for the umpteenth time.

Whatever would happen in the next few hours, she could not make it better by stewing on it.

Lord, help me take care of these racers today.

She wondered why the only racer who popped into her mind was the blue-eyed man who had broken her heart.

Shane relished the feel of being in the pack of bikers and the satisfying moment when he pulled away, establishing his place early on among the leaders. Gleeson was the third racer to start the descent and Shane kept a good five yards behind him. The first ten miles comprised a rough single-track descent. The rocky downhill required him to weight back, but not so far back that he lost traction. Wrists low on the bars, pedals even to the ground, bike in third gear. Chenko had done a good job picking the course. It took all Shane’s powers of concentration to keep from wiping out. After an hour or so, the harsh downslope gradually evened out into several miles of flat grassland, which gave him time to collect his thoughts. He knew they would be headed into a wooded section next, which would be peppered with obstacles, as well.

None of the obstacles seemed to be nearly as difficult as the ones he’d already encountered. The steady motion of his feet pressing the bike forward eased him into reviewing the issues prickling at his mind. There was no info in the race files to point to Ellen Brown. Dead end there. But what about Betsy? She knew Ellen, though there was no love lost between them. Her temperament was volatile, and if he could get her talking, she just might reveal what she meant when she’d said Ellen was a liar.

He shifted to second gear as a prairie dog poked his head out of a hole to check out the racers. Ahead, the trail narrowed to a small gap, hemmed in by trees as it dropped down near the riverbed. He didn’t hear the approach, but suddenly there was a biker pulling up alongside him. Surely whoever it was would fall in behind as they approached the gap.

Instead, the biker pulled forward, crowding Shane to the gravelly periphery of the path. He fought to keep the bike from slipping on the loose gravel. Betsy edged by him, so close he could see the sweat glistening on her forehead.

“Hey,” he yelled. Unwilling to give in, he pushed on until both of them were hurtling toward the narrow opening. She shot him a quick look and lowered her head, driving hard on the pedals. They were only a few feet from the gap, and she showed no signs of slowing. He caught a feverish look on her face, a focus so determined it seemed to exclude everything around her.

Two feet to go, and they would smash into each other. Anger humming in his veins, Shane slowed and let Betsy by. She shot forward through the gap and disappeared into the trees. As he rolled down onto the shaded path, he wondered about the look on her face.

Betsy Falco was determined to win.

Deadly determined.

He filed the thought away as he navigated the various logs and stumps that lined the route. They were a good ten miles into the race. The river was nearly full, rushing along, a companion to him as he went. He savored the rich smell of damp earth and leaves, especially considering that the next section would take him out of the river valley and into a bone-crunching climb in a barren moonscape. Betsy and Gleeson were ahead on the trail somewhere. He wondered who would back down if they met in a similar showdown. Gleeson was tough as nails. His bearing spoke of a military background. There was a lot more to him than met the eye. Somehow, Shane knew that Gleeson had an ulterior motive in the Desert Quest, just as he did. As the miles passed, he came no closer to figuring it out.

The last few miles, the geology shifted in front of his eyes from lush and green to arid and parched. He’d ridden a relatively flat section for almost an hour, passing a racer repairing a tire and looking as tired as Shane no doubt did. Now the route began to rise quickly. It was past noon and the sunlight illuminated the jagged rocks, which shone golden. He thought about a phrase he’d heard once about the Badlands, that it was the land God forgot, but watching the rich palette of golds and browns glittering around him and the vibrant blue sky atop it all, he had an unfamiliar stirring inside—a strange feeling of awe that did not in any way fit the circumstances of his life or Kelly’s at the moment. He felt something he could only identify as gratefulness, a surge of glory at being there, forging through the fantastic landscape.

He weighted forward and, as the slope grew steeper, his progress slowed until each stroke of the pedals was a great labor. The shrubs grew spotty; soon there was hardly a plant to be seen anywhere as he passed pinnacles of rock, twisted like arthritic fingers. As he stood on the pedals, grinding his way up the harsh path, the walls seemed to close in like giant stony fists, painting Shane in gloomy shadow. Ahead he could hear the occasional squeak of a laboring bike, but he could not see Betsy or Gleeson, nor could he hear any of the racers that he knew must be a couple of miles or so behind him.