Colton's Fugitive Family
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Jennifer Morey
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Chapter 1
White Christmas lights twinkled in the otherwise dimly lit log cabin; a fire crackled; It’s a Wonderful Life played on a DVD. Demetria “Demi” Colton hung the last ornament she’d picked up in town. Stepping back, she admired the end result. She folded her arms and smiled, feeling a welcome upturn of the corners of her lips.
Perfect.
Teal, magenta, blue and lime-green round ornaments mixed with other fun, animated character ornaments and sparkly sprigs of blue-colored berries. She’d wondered if the end result would be too gaudy but the tree looked beautiful. She’d put it in the corner of the living room, flanked by windows. Only she and Wolf would enjoy viewing the lights from outside—hopefully. She didn’t want company.
She had worried she wouldn’t be able to have a tree this year, but she’d come up with a disguise so she could go into the little town not far from here. She’d changed the color of her hair from red to black and cut it into a pixie almost a year ago, when she’d first gone on the run. A brown wig, black-rimmed glasses and hippie-themed clothes were diametrically different from how she had dressed before. Working as an independent bounty hunter she had worn practical clothes—clean, neat and tidy—but she also liked to dress up and go out. She did not turn away from a Little Black Dress when the occasion fit.
Thinking she heard something outside, Demi moved to the front window and parted the heavy drapes that reached the floor. She saw nothing other than darkness beyond the porch lights. On one side of the cabin the front entry jutted out farther than the living area inside, one thing she really liked about the place. There was room to remove winter clothes, put shoes under the white bench and hang jackets on hooks above. She’d bought a no-slip multicolored rug to put over the wood floor.
The weather forecast had called for snow tonight and tomorrow. She loved snowstorms, one positive about being forced into hiding with a five-month-old baby, and this storm had prompted her to stock up on essentials since it was predicted that over a foot would fall. The single-lane driveway that wound its way a quarter of a mile from the highway would be impassable for days, shaded by a dense, dark forest.
Snowflakes drifted down right now, nothing too ominous, but a light layer of white already covered the ground. She’d be safe tonight, a rarity.
Letting the drape fall back into place, she turned toward the living room of the small cabin and shut off the lamp beside the sofa. She left the light on over the stove all night. With the Christmas lights, it was just bright enough to see. The cabin wasn’t big, with a kitchen, dining area and living room, and two bedrooms down a short hallway. One bathroom.
She had constructed a secret room where Wolf slept, and a baby monitor on the kitchen counter kept her apprised of his well-being. She’d created a hidden entrance in her bedroom closet. She’d divided the second bedroom into two. Call her paranoid, but given her fugitive situation, her first priority was Wolf’s safety. And she had an escape plan if anything went wrong. She slept easier at night knowing her son was locked in a secure place. She shouldn’t have to do any of that. She shouldn’t even be in this preposterous situation.
Anger flared. Innocent of the alleged murder of her ex-fiancé, framed unjustly, she had no way of finding evidence to clear her name. That infuriated her. It would infuriate anyone in this situation, but her temper demanded some extra control. She screamed into pillows on occasion, banged on the mattress. Sometimes she just did a few laps around the cabin to vent steam. The real killer better not get too close. The least she’d like to do was give him a bloody nose.
“We aren’t succumbing to anger anymore,” she said aloud. She didn’t feel like going to bed yet, too restless and in one of those moods where, bored and caged, she didn’t know what to do with herself.
She tried to take in her home, to let it soothe her nerves as it often did. The living room took up the front, with the kitchen to the rear left and the smaller dining room to the right, the hallway between. She’d found a used furniture store in town and used the cash she’d taken from her account to survive on the run. That had been another sore point. She should not have had to tap into her savings, most of which had come from an inheritance from her mother, who had ended up marrying someone with money after she divorced Demi’s father. She had died in a car accident a few years ago.
A tall dark-wood bistro table with white trim and very few scratches stood in the dining room. She hadn’t hung anything on the log walls. The blue patterned sofa was against the wall near the entry, and two high-backed chairs flanked a wood-burning fireplace near the dining room. A cream and tan area rug warmed the room.
The kitchen had come with stainless steel appliances and beautiful gray granite countertops with white cabinets and pendant lighting above the snack bar. She sat at one of the two blue-cushioned stools each night for dinner, after she fed her adorable baby.
If she had to spend a lot of time isolated and on the run, she needed a calming environment, and this cabin had provided that, thanks to a good friend. Being alone had its challenges, however.
“I just need to be around people more.” Maybe she’d started to go a little crazy being cooped up in this place for so many months.
If she could socialize again, then she could stop talking to herself. She had Wolf, but a five-month-old couldn’t talk back yet.
Thankfully, her inventive disguise allowed her to go to the nearby small town for supplies and visits to the library where she kept tabs on the Groom Killer investigation. She’d used the computer there to read news reports and dig into the background of the bogus witness who claimed to have seen her fleeing the scene of her ex-fiancé’s murder back in January. She’d believed he would lead her to whoever framed her. And why. And she’d been right.
Hearing that sound again—a sort of thump—Demi returned to the window, but when she pushed back the drape a bit, the Christmas lights were reflected on the glass. She saw nothing, but heard a muffled scraping on the other window.
Heart leaping into faster beats, she hurried to the fireplace mantel where she kept a wooden box containing a pistol. She had mounted a rifle on the wall in the hallway and kept another pistol in her bedroom, on the top shelf of her closet.
When she heard a piece of glass part from the window and the sound of a gathering winter storm grew louder, she realized that whoever had carved a hole in the glass, A, had specialized equipment, and B, was a professional. Although she didn’t see him, she listened as he unlocked the window and slid it open.
Flipping off the safety, she racked the slide and moved out from behind the Christmas tree.
“Come one more inch into this cabin, I’ll shoot and keep shooting,” she said.
The man had already climbed inside and when he heard her, he rolled or fell onto his behind, brushing the branches of the tree and jingling ornaments. The drapes slid off him to reveal a familiar face.
Lucas Gage looked up at her with his sexy dark eyes. His chestnut hair was mostly hidden by a black beanie, but the scars on his left cheek and above his right eye were a clear identifier. A bounty hunter, like her, he’d been her nemesis for years. He must be feeling mighty triumphant right now. He’d found her.
Instead of gloating, however, he let out a long breath and said, “You’re okay.”
He hadn’t expected her to be? And was that relief she saw and heard? Surely he hadn’t worried about her.
“Get your hands where I can see them,” she ordered.
He held up his hands, amusement spreading over his face. That always annoyed her. He was always so cocksure of himself and seemed to enjoy riling her. It didn’t help that he was a good bounty hunter—a legitimate Red Ridge Police Department bounty hunter with a K-9. Whenever she felt spurts of envy or insecurity, she reminded herself that she didn’t have to play by any PD rules.
“Thanks to you, I’m going to have to find another place to stay,” she said a bit harshly.
“You don’t have to run anymore.”
What was he saying? Was that some kind of ploy to get her to trust him? If so, it was weak. How would she get away? How would she snatch up Wolf and get out of here?
She gestured toward the window. “You have a backpack or something out there? Handcuffs?” She’d tie him up and leave. By the time he got free, she’d be long gone.
“I didn’t come here to take you in, Demi. You don’t have to tie me up and run.”
As if she’d believe him. A man like him would say anything with a gun pointed at his head.
“I came here to tell you the Red Ridge PD is almost a hundred percent sure you’re innocent.”
“Almost?” That was rich. Did he really expect her to melt in relief and blithely go with him?
He let out a long exhale, no longer so amused. “It’s Devlin Harrington who’s been killing all the grooms. Police just need the missing gun and hopefully prints or other evidence that will link him.”
The police had no evidence against Devlin and he still thought she’d be safe returning to Red Ridge? “I know it’s Devlin.” She’d known for quite some time.
Devlin had behaved strangely toward her after she rejected his invitation to dinner one night. A few months later, she found herself accused of murder. While that hadn’t made the connection for her, recalling that Hayley Patton had rejected him as well made her begin to wonder if that meant something. Sure enough, it did.
“I also know he’s obsessed with Hayley Patton and a witness claimed to see me kill the last groom victim,” she continued. “A low-level drug dealer with a rap sheet said he saw me fleeing Bo’s murder scene. Really? That’s a credible witness? Another witness was killed. Can no one see a pattern here?”
“The police do.” Lucas moved slowly and began to rise, keeping his hands up and looking at her warily, testing her.
“Stay on the floor.” She took a step back. She’d never get away from him if he got the upper hand.
Lucas stood all the way up, his hands shoulder height. “I’m not going to take you in, Demi.”
“How can you expect me to trust you?”
“You don’t have to. Just believe me when I say you’ll be safe in Red Ridge.”
She wavered a few seconds before she skittered back to caution. She could not trust him.
“How did you know Devlin was obsessed with Hayley?” he asked. “One of the witnesses confessed to being paid, and that story was in the news, but what about Hayley?”
“I remembered how he used to watch Hayley. His girlfriend, Gemma Colton, brought him to a rare family gathering that her branch of the family deigned to attend. It was as though he forgot all about her when Hayley showed up. He had a creepy way of just staring at her. Then he’d make derogatory comments about Hayley, strange comments, like her dress was too short or she had on too much makeup. It was as though he thought she should be more modest. One or two comments like that and I wouldn’t have noticed, but he always criticized the way she looked and he did in a weird way, as though he was offended. I also found a social media webpage of his. He assumed a different name but I recognized him in a couple of photos he had posted. He posted a lot about his girlfriend and never mentioned her name, but he had many, many photos of Hayley and made up stories about things they did together that clearly never happened.”
“You need to give me the link. That’s more evidence against him.”
He was just trying to get her to lower her guard. He’d do anything to have another successful bounty to add to his rock-solid reputation.
They proceeded to have a stare down. Demi wasn’t one to be uncomfortable, but Lucas’s handsome face always threw her off. Not to mention his tall, muscular and fit body. She looked away first.
“The police won’t arrest you, Demi. You can go home,” Lucas said. Smooth talker.
Demi spotted the baby monitor on the kitchen counter and experienced a flash of panic. What if Wolf made a sound? Lucas might redouble his effort to haul her in if he found out she had his nephew in a hidden room.
“You say the police don’t have the evidence they need to arrest Devlin. Well, they have evidence against me.”
“They know the necklace was planted and the killer wrote your name in Bo’s blood, making it look as though Bo wrote it as he was dying. They know the witness who claimed to see you running from the crime scene lied.”
“How do they know that?”
“Everything came out because of a sexual harassment case last month. No one even realized it was connected until the pieces starting fitting together. Hunter Black—he’s a cop with the PD—found out that an employee of Colton Energy lied about bigwig Layla Colton sexually harassing him. Her phone and email were hacked. Only one person would have a motive to ruin her and that’s Devlin Harrington. He didn’t want his father marrying her. Hunter found proof of the hacking and, in turn, other evidence was dug up—evidence that connected him to being the Groom Killer. Devlin is now on the run, like you.”
Demi lowered her gun, stunned by this revelation. “What evidence?”
“A gun was found buried in his backyard. It’s the same gun used to kill some of the victims, but there were no prints.”
That further interested her. She resisted. This was Lucas Gage, Bo’s brother and her longtime enemy and professional competitor. He could be playing her until he found Wolf—his nephew—and subdued her long enough to take her into custody. He had ample reason to want to get her, and get her good.
A gust of wind reminded her a storm was underway. If she didn’t make a move now, she’d never get away. She walked into the kitchen and stopped at the counter with her back to Lucas. Blocking his sight of the monitor, she slid it between the coffee maker and the toaster oven. Then she turned to face him.
“That’s very compelling, Lucas, but I’m not going anywhere with you.”
When Lucas had first seen Demi from his vantage point on the floor, he hadn’t recognized her. He’d thought he’d wound up at another dead end, breaking into a strange woman’s cabin. Then the changes registered, the shorter hair she’d colored dark, the baggy hippie-like clothes. Her pretty green eyes were still the same, all full of fiery courage and defiance. She was the most fearless woman he’d ever met. The most competitive, too. She annoyed him as much as she intrigued him. He was sure she felt the same about him.
He still sat at the kitchen island and she stood on the other side, distrusting, still holding the gun. She might dress up as a hippie, but she looked casual but modern right now. The jeans flattered her shape, long legs and narrow hips. A soft blue thermal top was both practical on this cold night and attractive, molding to her form and reminding him that he’d always been attracted to those breasts.
He’d been so relieved when he realized he’d finally found her, relieved that she was the woman supposedly named Chelsey Carter whom he’d been tracking, and unable to deny that his relief stemmed from something much more emotional. She could handle herself and he felt bad for doubting her innocence, for going after her with more determination than he’d ever had for any other fugitive. Devlin Harrington had proved himself very dangerous, paying off fake witnesses and killing all those grooms. He’d do anything to preserve his evil way of life. More than he wanted to make amends for doubting her, Lucas wanted to protect Demi until the real Groom Killer was captured. One problem with that? Demi hadn’t liked him before he started hunting for her.
“How did you find me?” Demi asked.
Her demeanor had changed. She’d softened. Had she begun to believe him? He studied her unreadable mouth and the slight angle of her face. Were her eyebrows raised a little more? The easing of tension would do that. But Lucas knew this woman more than she realized. She might have dropped some of her guard, but she most definitely did not believe him.
“Do you mind putting that gun away?”
She still held it aimed at him.
“If I was going to hurt you, or bring you back to Red Ridge against your will, I’d have already done it, Demi.”
“You always were so sure of yourself.”
He was a good bounty hunter. “I could say the same about you.”
Her eyebrows twitched as though she hadn’t expected him to say that, as though doubting his subtle compliment.
“How did you find me?” she asked again.
He moved away from the window and the Christmas tree, nearly certain she wouldn’t shoot him. He took in her cabin. Simply furnished, but tastefully done, she’d made herself a home while she hid. At the kitchen island, he pulled a stool out and sat.
Demi stayed where she was with her gun still ready, waiting for an answer.
“I checked new and recent residents of surrounding towns and only one name came up as having no history until a few years ago—Chelsey Carter. The timing was off, of course, since you’ve only been on the run for a year. But I knew you could have found a way to fudge dates, so it was worth checking out. I wasn’t sure if it was you,” he said.
“That explains why you seemed surprised to see me,” she said.
“How did you manage to get set up here? The false name. This cabin.” He glanced around. “This is nice.”
“I didn’t have to fudge dates. I helped a fugitive escape a few years ago. She was innocent. This cabin belonged to her under a false name. She helped me the way I helped her.”
“What fugitive?”
“Maddie Morrison. When she was on the run, she came here. One of her family members gave her enough money to buy this place and helped her clear her name. I assumed her fake identity, the one she set up for herself as Chelsey Carter. She took all the furniture with her when she left, so all I had to do was furnish and decorate.”
“Didn’t anyone in town get suspicious about another Chelsey Carter appearing every now and then?”
Demi smiled. “I went to town in disguise. I bought some hippie attire and a wig so I looked more like Chelsey. We have the same eye color. She’s a little shorter than me, but not by much. Also, Chelsey didn’t go into town very much, just to buy food. She never talked to anyone, either. No one noticed me, at least, not in a suspicious or curious way.”
There was only one question left to ask.
Where was the baby?
Police had found a positive pregnancy test in her bathroom the day she’d fled. And just a few months ago, when she’d texted her brother from a burner phone to declare her innocence, Shane Colton had asked how the baby was, and Demi replied that he was fine.
Lucas looked around and saw no sign an infant lived here. He would have found her sooner if she’d had the baby under her own name. She must have gone to the hospital as Chelsey Carter. For months, until Demi had confirmed it herself via that text, her being pregnant, giving birth on the run, were rumors. He’d always hoped the rumors were true—and that the father of the baby was Bo, her ex-fiancé, his late brother. When he’d believed her guilty, he’d thought Bo getting her pregnant and then dumping her served as great motive to want to kill him. After he realized she hadn’t killed his brother, he’d wanted the rumors to be true. A part of Bo would live on. Lucas’s nephew.
“Where’s the baby?” he asked.
“What baby?”
He watched her face closely. She’d answered deadpan. But he knew about her text to her brother Shane, who worked closely with the RRPD. Why was she lying?
“Is it Bo’s?” he asked as though he didn’t believe her.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
There it was, that ever-so-slight flinch of her eyes. She often did that when he made her falter.
“Come on, Demi, everyone knows you were pregnant when you fled. You were spotted—definitely pregnant—before you came here.”
Could she have lied to her brother about the baby? Maybe she’d lost the baby. He swallowed.
“I did move a lot, from hotel to hotel and town to town. I adopted disguises.”
She’d disguised herself as a pregnant woman? Disappointment filled him. So, there was no baby? No nephew? Bo would be gone forever, leaving no trace of the younger man with whom Lucas had been so close.
But what about the pregnancy test?
She put the pistol down on the counter and leaned her hip against the edge. She seemed entirely too relaxed. He began to suspect an act.
“I’m a little chilled.” She rubbed her arms and left the kitchen. “I’m just going to get a sweater.”
He watched her disappear down the hall. He leaned to the right but couldn’t see all the way to the end. Standing, he walked to the threshold. A light was on in one room. Another door led to a bathroom and the one next to it must be for a second bedroom. Passing the bathroom, he peered into the first bedroom. It contained a twin bed and a dresser and not much more. It was a small room. At the end of the hall, he looked into the lit bedroom. A queen-sized bed with a colorful quilt, dresser and chair filled it. He looked back toward the entrance to the spare bedroom. The wall ended before the linen closet.
Where had Demi gone?
He entered her bedroom. There was no bathroom off this room. He opened the closet. Just clothes hanging and some folded on an upper shelf. Shoes lined the floor. He parted the clothes. No passage there. Hurrying to the hall, he opened the linen closet. Nothing unusual here.
In the spare bedroom he noticed there was no window on the left wall and the window straight ahead was right at the room’s corner. He went there and looked outside. Snow fell much thicker now, but when he looked left, he saw the house extended farther than this room.
Going back to Demi’s closet, he shoved the clothes aside and searched the back wall. There had to be a hidden entrance in here. He felt the paneling until his fingers caught on a latch. Opening that, he found himself inside a nursery. The cradle was empty and the barred window was open. He shut it to keep out the cold.
He ran to the front of the cabin. Bursting through the front door, he saw Demi running for the Jeep through the heavy fall of snow. She held a bundle in front of her—the baby.
She had lied to him. She did have a baby.
“Demi! Wait!” he shouted.
Just then, gunfire erupted through the blowing wind and snow. Demi shrieked and had to duck in front of the Jeep. Lucas took out his gun and tried to determine the location of the gunman. It was difficult to see.
More bullets followed. Glass shattered and the Jeep sank as its front tire was blown out.
Lucas shot in the general direction of the gunfire. The gunman returned fire. Lucas pulled his head behind the pillar of the front porch where he’d taken cover, then leaned out and shot back several times.
Taking shelter again, he heard no more gunshots. He left the protection of the post and ran for the woods, seeing Demi with a crying baby still crouched in front of the Jeep.
Lucas slowed at the origin of the gunshots and saw footprints.
