Page 49 of Out of Time (Undaunted Courage #3)

TWENTY-EIGHT

THIS MUST BE THE MONTH for missing children.

And finding a child who had vanished was more urgent than a conversation with Steven, eager as he was to talk to the man.

Brad ended his exchange with the dispatcher on the radio, put his phone on hands-free, and called Natalie again.

She answered on the first ring.

After he identified himself, he got straight to business. “Any sign of Steven?”

“No. I’m in my room, and I have a clear view of the yard behind the house. He hasn’t come back yet.”

“Slight change in plans. I just had a call about a missing child. That has to take precedence. I may not get to your place until later in the afternoon. I’d still like you to wait and let me talk to Steven first about his nighttime excursions on the property.

It ties into the other questions I have for him. ”

“About Micah’s death?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve been thinking about that since your first call. You must be mistaken, Brad. If he knew anything about what happened to Micah, he would have told us.”

Not if he’d killed the man.

But he couldn’t drop that bombshell on Natalie over the phone.

“You know him better than I do.” He kept his tone conversational. “But I’m obligated to investigate any evidence that turns up.”

“I understand. That’s your job. I’m sure he’ll have an explanation for whatever you found, though.”

Yes, he would—especially if he had time to conjure one up.

That was why it was important to catch him by surprise.

“Let’s hope we can clear it up later this afternoon. Would you hold off talking to him about your concerns until after he and I chat?”

“It will be a bit awkward. But I suppose I could go to the study and work. He never interrupts if I shut the door, and it would be far less suspicious than me hiding in my room all afternoon.”

“Sounds like a plan. I’ll get there as soon as I can.”

The instant they said their goodbyes, he hit the siren and picked up speed.

Hopefully the missing six-year-old would be found safe and unharmed fast so he could move on to Natalie’s.

And as long as she didn’t alert her cousin to the fact that he was on the sheriff’s radar, there shouldn’t be any imminent danger on the Boyer property.

PULLING HIS GUN HAD BEEN A MISTAKE.

And now he’d have to deal with it.

Stifling a curse as Cara gaped at him from ten feet away, Steven tried to work through the muddle in his brain.

Failed.

There was no simple fix for this problem.

With Micah, he’d had time to plan. Working on the fly had never been his strong suit.

“W-what’s going on?”

At Cara’s question, he closed the distance between them. “Shut up and let me think. Don’t get any ideas about screaming, either. Natalie won’t hear you inside the house, and I won’t hesitate to pull the trigger. With all the hunting that goes on around here, one more shot won’t even be noticed.”

Her gaze dropped to his pistol, and sweat beaded on her forehead despite the chill in the air.

She was scared.

Good.

That should keep her in line while he figured out what to do next.

If he’d let her walk away a minute ago, he wouldn’t be in this mess—except that would have been a mistake too.

Her expression had telegraphed her suspicions loud and clear, making it obvious she hadn’t bought his explanation about the bracelet.

And who could blame her? No one took an expensive piece of jewelry on a spelunking expedition.

If she wasn’t best buds with the sheriff, their encounter might not have been as much of an issue. Natalie wouldn’t have questioned his explanation if Cara brought the incident up to her.

But Brad Mitchell would.

And he didn’t want the man asking any more questions.

Mitchell had grilled him about his whereabouts the day Micah died, and while his alibi was sound, anything that cast further suspicion on him could be damaging.

The sheriff might dig deeper. What if he somehow found out the identity of the late-night trespasser?

That would open a whole new can of worms.

No, Cara couldn’t talk to him about this.

And there was only one way to stop her from doing that—just as there’d been only one way to stop Micah from potentially thwarting his plans.

Cara had to die.

There was no choice.

His stomach gurgled, and he swallowed past the sour taste in his mouth.

Another killing hadn’t been in his plans. No killings had ever been in his plans.

But he was in too deep to back out.

What he needed to do was put other concerns aside and focus on how to accomplish the task.

It had to look like an accident, as Micah’s had. That was a given.

With the lake close at hand, that was the easiest solution. But drowning wouldn’t work a second time.

So what could happen to a healthy young woman that would appear accidental and raise no red flags?

“Steven, whatever is wrong can be fixed.” A tremor ran through Cara’s voice. “You don’t have to—”

“I said, shut up!”

Hands clenched at her sides, she pressed her lips together and watched him.

Keeping the pistol pointed at her, he considered scenarios.

A car crash could work. The narrow, winding roads in this area were accident alley.

That would be hard to stage without advance planning, though.

She could trip on the path while hiking, hit her head. That kind of injury could be fatal.

But it was possible she’d survive that—and survival wasn’t an option.

What could he do that would—

He froze.

Of course!

Why hadn’t he thought of that immediately?

The perfect weapon was close at hand.

It would be easy to pull off too. And unlike the situation with Micah, there would be no blood on his hands.

This go-round, he could accomplish the distasteful deed without having to worry about losing his breakfast.

CRISIS AVERTED.

Brad finished the call with dispatch, swung into a gravel driveway on his right, backed out onto the road, and reversed course.

With the six-year-old found safely asleep beside the family dog in the woods abutting the field beside his house, the situation with Steven once more took top billing.

Natalie answered his call on the first ring, as she had before. “I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon.”

“The situation I had to deal with resolved itself. I should be at your place within fifteen minutes. Any sign of Steven?”

“No. All’s quiet here. I haven’t heard him come back yet.”

“Stay put if you do. I’ll be there shortly.”

As soon as he ended that conversation, Brad called Cara’s cell and pressed on the accelerator. She was probably heads-down in the cottage with her research, but it wouldn’t hurt to advise her to lock her doors until he’d had an opportunity to talk to Steven.

Besides, it was a legitimate excuse to hear her voice, even if he’d be swinging back by the property in a mere six hours to pick her up for their much-delayed dinner date.

Brad’s lips bowed as he took a curve at a fast clip, keeping a firm grip on the wheel.

The gourmet restaurant where he’d reserved an intimate table for two would surprise her. The eatery was a hidden gem, out in the middle of nowhere, but it attracted patrons from a huge radius. The tab would set him back a hefty amount, but it would be well worth it to—

Cara’s cell rolled to voicemail.

Huh.

Why wasn’t she answering?

He ended the call without leaving a message.

Five minutes later, he tried her again.

Same result.

A tingle of unease slithered up his spine.

She always kept her phone close at hand. Unless she was taking a shower, she should have noticed the call. But how many people took showers in the middle of the day?

In all likelihood there was a logical explanation for her lack of response. Absent his concerns over Steven, the lapse would only cause the tiniest blip on his worry meter.

But Steven was a big worry—and he was on the premises.

Still, he’d have no reason to bother Cara.

Then again, he’d had no apparent reason to bother Micah, either. And he’d done more than bother the groundskeeper, if the red alerts the DNA results had set off were accurate.

So as soon as he checked in with Natalie at the house, he’d circle around to the cottage and make sure Cara was okay before he shared a cup of tea with the older woman and waited for her cousin to finish his trek around the lake.

THIS WAS SURREAL.

As Cara faced off with Steven on the path to the lake, mind processing at warp speed, the pieces began to fall into place.

Steven had never found caves appealing. He’d told her that on their first hike.

Either he’d been lying, or there was another explanation for his sudden interest in visiting the subterranean space.

Did it have anything to do with the bracelet in his pocket?

And could all of this be connected to the late-night lights she’d seen on the property?

Was Steven the trespasser?

“Stop thinking so hard, Cara.”

At Steven’s comment, she studied him.

He wasn’t quite as agitated as he’d been moments ago.

Why not?

He didn’t wait long to give her an answer.

“Let’s take a walk.” He motioned to the trail behind her. The one that led back to the cottage and the house.

What?

He was going to take her at gunpoint to a place where Natalie could see them?

That didn’t make sense.

Because Cara would bet her life the older woman didn’t have a clue her cousin had a dark side. Why would Steven want to risk changing that?

“Move.” Steven extended his hand, aiming the gun at her center mass.

Her breath hitched, and she turned around. Started up the path.

She had to do something.

But what?

This scenario was more the bailiwick of her siblings. Jack would already have the situation in hand, and Bri wouldn’t be far behind. Either of them would be capable of kicking the gun out of Steven’s—

Wait.

She could kick.

While she didn’t have the self-defense moves her siblings had mastered, her ballet experience ought to give her the tools to deliver a kick that would dislodge the gun from Steven’s hand if the opportunity presented itself.

Of course, after that, her only defense would be to run.

Unless ... was it possible she could talk her way out of this?

Even as that thought crossed her mind, she dismissed it. What Steven was doing was a criminal offense. He wasn’t going to want to pay the price for that.

And who knew what else he’d done, this man with jewels in his pocket, who was likely the person who’d been skulking around in the dark that she’d assumed was Micah.

Micah.

Cara’s stomach began to churn.

All along, Natalie had been skeptical about the circumstances around her trusted groundskeeper’s death. The same man who’d left her a warning to be careful, which she’d attributed to the kitchen fire.

But maybe Micah had discovered there was underhanded activity on the premises.

Maybe he’d known Steven was involved.

Maybe Steven had found out he’d known.

And maybe Steven had eliminated that threat because he didn’t want his project, whatever it was, to be exposed.

Cara’s pulse spiked, and she stumbled on a rock.

Could Steven be a ... a murderer?

The notion seemed absurd.

But if he was ... if he’d killed Micah ... then there was little chance he’d hesitate to kill again.

And right now, she was literally in his sights.

Bile rose in her throat as she struggled to get her fear under control. To engage the left side of her brain and think this through. To try to anticipate his next steps.

Shooting her would be a mistake. He had to know that. It would obviously be murder. And if he’d killed Micah, he’d gone to great lengths to make it seem like an accident. No matter how he framed it, a gunshot wound wouldn’t be an accident.

So how was he going to—

“Turn right.”

She paused. Stared at the narrow trail that had become overgrown since Micah’s death.

And with sudden, sickening certainty, she realized what he had in store for her.

Steven was taking her up to the cliff where Marie and Paul’s grandfather had held their trysts.

To the cliff from which that despondent young woman had jumped to her death.

The cliff where Steven no doubt intended to stage a fall by the visiting professor who’d wandered up there to see the view and gotten a tad too close to the edge.

“Go up the trail, Cara.” He bent down and tucked his flashlight among the foliage, perhaps to keep his hands free so he could deal with her on the hike if she decided to object to his plan.

A hard object nudged her in the kidney, and she lurched forward as her respiration went haywire and fear clogged her throat.

She could scream, but Steven was right. Natalie would never hear her inside the house, and the closest neighbors were too far away to pick up a cry for help.

“Keep walking—and remember, I’ll use this gun if I have to. The shot won’t be noticed, and a few minutes after that, the gun will be at the bottom of the lake. The shooter will never be identified.”

“They’ll ... they’ll suspect you. You’re on site.” Somehow she choked out the reply.

“Suspicions are useless without proof.”

True. But there would be proof. Trace evidence on her body, if nothing else. Like his skin under her fingernails.

Because she wasn’t going over the edge without a fight.

In the critical minutes ahead, however, she intended to do everything in her power to ensure that history didn’t repeat itself.

Marie had chosen to die.

But she intended to live.