Carla Cassidy – The Coltons: Fisher, Ryder & Quinn: Soldier's Secret Child (страница 22)
“I’ve been offered a teaching post at West Point.”
“And had you given any thought to it?” she asked, turning toward him once again, the resoluteness in her brown-eyed gaze drilling into him, daring him to lie to her, but he couldn’t.
“I had given it some thought,” he admitted and that seemed to be enough for her for the moment.
“I think it’s time we got some rest,” she said and flipped onto her side.
He nestled against her, his front to her back, spooned as close as he could be, and dropped his arm to rest across her waist while pillowing his head on his other arm.
“Good night, Mace.”
“Good night, Fisher,” she said and laid her arm over his.
For long moments he lay there, listening to her breathe until the rhythm of it deepened and lengthened, confirming to him that she slept. Even then he clung onto wakefulness, trying to experience this peaceful interlude. Wondering how it might be if she lay beside him every night. What it would be like to sample the passion he had experienced but for a brief moment earlier that night.
As he drifted off, the taste of her on his lips and the memory of her pressed close, it occurred to him that maybe family life might not be such a bad thing.
That maybe it was worth giving that teaching position more than just a thought.
He awoke to the smell of fresh coffee and Macy. Her scent lingered on the sheets long after she had left the bed.
He took his time to snuggle her pillow close and savor that rose-filled scent. Maybe even memorize for the future if it turned out to be that his nights were meant to be without her.
Realizing he couldn’t dawdle for long, however, he rose and went to the bathroom where he relieved himself and after, washed his face and hands. Put a little of her toothpaste on his finger and scrubbed his mouth out the best he could.
Thankfully, it took just his fingers to rake smooth the short strands of his hair and then he was on his way downstairs and to the kitchen, where Macy was standing at the counter, fork-splitting some English muffins.
“Good morning,” he said and came up behind her, dropped a quick kiss on the side of her face.
“Mornin’, Fisher. I walked over to the corner store and got some more eggs. Figured I’d make us a bite to eat while we decided what to do today.”
“Let me help,” he said, grabbed the muffins and brought them to the toaster while Macy cracked the eggs.
After he popped the muffins into the toaster oven and got it cranking, he leaned back against the counter and asked, “Have you given any thought to where T.J. might have taken Sara?”
She shook her head as she scrambled the eggs and said, “I’ve been thinking about that ever since yesterday. Joe said T.J. thought no one would find her there…”
Her voice trailed off and she stopped whipping. She put down the fork and bowl and said, “We used to go hiking and camping about thirty miles from here in the Texas hill country.”
Wiping her hands on her apron, she headed toward a side door in the kitchen and he followed.
The door opened into the two-car garage which had a recessed area on one side. Shelves and a large plastic storage bin were tucked into the recess and Macy immediately went to the storage bin and pulled up the top.
“The camping equipment and knapsacks are gone. T.J. must have taken them and if he did that…I bet that’s where he took her. We used to go up in the hills and camp. We even found a cave one time.”
“Was the cave big enough for someone to hide in or stay for any length of time?” he asked.
“Definitely. We slept there one night when it was raining,” she said with a quick bob of her head. “T.J. and his dad used to go there often until…I only went a few times, though. Hiking and camping were not my thing.”
“Do you think you could take us there? Find the trail that T.J. would be most likely to use to get to the cave?”
“I think so. It’s been a while, but I’m good at remembering places. We’ll need some supplies—”
“I’ve got camping gear back at Dad’s house and we can stop by the feed and supply to pick up some MREs.”
“MREs?” she questioned, clearly unfamiliar with the term.
“Ready to eat meals. Dad has everything we need in his camping section,” he explained.
“I’ll get changed and pack some warmer clothes. It can get cold in the hills.”
“And they’re predicting heavy rains. I hope T.J. knows enough to stay to the high ground and away from those arroyos. They can be dangerous if there’s a flash flood.”
Macy paled a little, but kept her cool. “I hope he knows that as well. I’ll be down in a few minutes.”
“I’ll finish cooking breakfast. The food will help us to be prepared for a long day.”
As Macy walked back into the kitchen and he went about finishing the meal, he only hoped that by the end of the day, they would have a better idea of where T.J. and Sara might be.
Fisher had called Buck Yates ahead of time and his dad had a few days worth of rations as well as some maps of the area ready for them when they arrived at his feed and supply store on the outskirts of town. Combined with the camping equipment that Fisher had picked up at his dad’s house, they would be well-prepared for a trip into the hill country.
As Buck helped them stow supplies in their knapsacks, Fisher asked, “Is Jericho still due home tomorrow?”
Buck nodded. “As far as I know he is.”
Fisher shot a look at her and said, “Tell him that we think T.J.’s helping Sara and that they’re hiding up in the state park. We’ll check in with the park ranger when we get there, but Jericho should try and reach me on the cell phone as soon as he can.”
When their bags were packed, they tossed them into the back of Fisher’s Jeep, climbed in and started the ride to the state park. It was about thirty miles away in the hill country and easily reached along a small interstate.
The weather station had predicted torrential rains for that afternoon. Macy hoped that they could reach the park and pick up T.J.’s trail before the rains came and obliterated any sign of him and Sara.
The weather forecast was on her mind during the entire ride along with concerns about what would happen if Deputy Rawlings decided to come by the house to question T.J. Would he assume the worst if he found them all gone? If he did, would he issue an all points bulletin for T.J. as if he were a fugitive?
At her prolonged silence during the ride, Fisher glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “Don’t worry. We’ll find them before there’s any more problems,” he reassured her.
“If Deputy Rawlings—”
“Jericho will be home soon enough and I think Rawlings is smart enough to know that Jericho would be less than pleased with the kind of grief he’s already given you. He’s not going to escalate this.”
She shook her head, recalling the dour look on the deputy’s handsome face when she had gone to pick up T.J. “He seemed pretty determined to me.”
“Focus on what we’ll do once we get to the park. Which trail we’ll take and where T.J. might have hidden Sara,” he urged and she did, forcing herself to remember the two or three trips she had taken with Tim and T.J. up into the hills. Trusting that between that and Fisher’s military expertise in tracking, they could find where T.J. and Sara might have gone.
Hoping that whoever it was that had tried to run down T.J. or had been asking questions back at the honky tonk would not already be on the teen’s trail.
When Fisher pulled into the main lot of the state park, her heart skipped a beat.
Stationed at the farthest corner, beneath some thick oaks, was T.J.’s GTO. She pointed at it and Fisher drove to the car and parked beside it. As she stood beneath the canopy of the oaks, she realized why he had chosen the spot. It would be difficult for anyone searching from above to spot the car.
Fisher kneeled by the driver’s side door, observing some impressions in the gravel by the car. He tracked the impressions to a dirt path besides the gnarly pines surrounding the parking lot. “The footprints lead from the car to here, but there’s only one set that I can see.”
“From last night when he came back to where he’d hidden Sara,” she said.
He nodded, lifted his hand and pointed to the small ranger station about thirty feet away on the opposite side of the lot. “Why don’t you stay here while I talk to the ranger?”
If someone was chasing the teens, they might also have a picture of her and be showing it around. Better she lay low as well, she thought and eased back into the Jeep to wait for Fisher’s return.
Nearly half an hour went by as she sat there, tapping her foot and fidgeting with her cell phone. She was on the verge of calling Fisher when she saw him via the rearview mirror, exiting the ranger station. He had a piece of paper in his hand which he glanced at once or twice as he came closer.
When he reached the car, he eased back in and laid out the paper—a map of the park areas—in the space between the two seats. “The ranger says there’s at least three trails into the hills. One of them starts right here where T.J. parked.”
He pointed to a spot on the map and she leaned over, followed the meandering uphill path of the trail on the paper until it arrived at an overlook.