Too late, Tate thought. Too damned late.
He watched Connell disappear through the snowfall, slipping like a ghost through the veil of icy flakes.
Tate smiled to himself. Slipped his sunglasses over the bridge of his nose.
Despite his objections, Connell had taken the bait.
Could be that Connell had wrapped his acquiescence in all kinds of do-gooding rhetoric, but the truth of the matter was that Connell was intrigued. Mystified. And there was nothing more he liked than figuring out a puzzle—through legitimate means or not. Yeah, he was definitely on the side of justice, which was just fine, but he was intrigued.
Stuffing his hands deep into his pockets, Tate stared at the water as it tumbled and fell over the time-worn stones below the surface.
Whether he knew it or not, Wayne Connell was in.
CHAPTER 14
“Jonas?” Kara whispered, fear nearly strangling her.
Her heart knocked frantically against her rib cage, her lungs tight. Fear sliding down her spine as she drove ever downward, the steep cliffs rising on the passenger side of the car, a sheer canyon on the other, two narrow lanes carved into the packed ice and snow.
Her brother was in the Jeep with her? Her ex-con of a brother?
Hiding in the back seat like they do in all those stupid horror flicks?
For a split second she wondered if he had a weapon. A gun or a knife or . . . or . . . God, whatever it was that sliced Merritt’s throat.
Trying not to freak out, Kara kept one eye on the road, the other on Jonas, lurking in the seat behind her.
“Drive, Kara,” he commanded.
“What the hell are you doing here?” She grasped the steering wheel in a death grip, trying to force herself to concentrate on her driving. The pass was treacherous. Narrow. Cut into the side of the mountain with sheer rock rising on one side and a deep canyon on the other. All that separated her Jeep from that dark, yawning abyss was a slice of icy pavement, a short guard rail and the tops of giant firs, branches glistening with ice. She had to drive. Had to keep the Cherokee on the road, but she was panicking, her pulse was skyrocketing, her mouth dry as cotton and her mind spinning in desperate circles. This couldn’t be happening! Merritt couldn’t be dead, his throat slashed so violently. Jonas couldn’t be—
Stop it. Get a grip. It’s all real. Deal with it, Kara.
“What am I doing here?” Jonas repeated. “What does it look like? Oh, shit.” He dropped out of sight.
Another cop car sped by, lights blazing, siren blasting, only inches separating the two vehicles.
Kara gasped, her heart knocking crazily, the sound of the siren fading.
She glanced in the rearview again. “You’re hiding from the police?”
“Hell, yeah, I am. You were in Margrove’s trailer. You saw him. I heard you call the cops. What do you think they’d do if they pieced it together that I was there? Just out of prison and my attorney ends up dead. Murdered.” His gaze held hers in the mirror. “And just so we’re straight about it. I didn’t kill him. I know it’s what you’re thinking, but I didn’t kill him.” He let out a sharp breath. “Son of a bitch. Son of a goddamned bitch. This is a nightmare. I mean, I’m finally out. Finally, and now . . . now . . . fuck!”
“Merritt is dead,” she reminded him. “This isn’t about you!”
“Isn’t it? Hey, watch the road!”
“I am.” She slowed slightly as the road jogged, the downgrade steepened. “You scared the hell out of me!”
“Couldn’t be helped.”
“Of course it could have been! You didn’t have to pop up in my car like some serial killer in a slasher movie, for Christ’s sake.”
“A slasher movie,” he repeated, and she immediately regretted her words.
“You know what I mean.” She was still trying to calm down, to bring down her racing pulse, but adrenaline was firing her blood and anger was seeping in. “So where have you been, Jonas?” she said, catching his eye in the mirror. “Why the hell were you at Margrove’s? Why didn’t you let me know you were up there?”
“Margrove wanted to meet somewhere private. You know, just him and me.”
“In the middle of nowhere? Why?”
“To avoid the press.”
She squinted through the windshield, adjusted the defrost, the fan whirring loudly. If what Jonas was saying was true, then there was some sense to it. Margrove could hardly have found a more isolated spot. Even now, they’d hardly met a car on the road, the landscape muted, but still—