“What’s going on?” called a woman’s voice from behind him.
“No fucking idea,” he told her. “Stay there.”
Cara didn’t stop to consider whether the command was for the other woman or for her. Grabbing the Clif bar and the beach towel, and holding the second shoe, she dove behind a bushy clump of sagebrush.
“You’re stealing ourshoes?” he said incredulously as he rushed toward the Range Rover, undoubtedly for his own shoes, and possibly a gun.
As he did, his towel dropped to the ground.
He was also less manscaped than she’d imagined.
As he fumbled to cover himself up, Cara stopped to put on and tie the second shoe, then trotted, knee pain and all, toward a ridge. No way the man was going to catch her barefootandalmost naked.
Before she disappeared over the crest, she stopped and shouted down to him, “I’m sorry and thank you! I really,reallyneeded these.”
SIX
JORDAN
Secluded rustic A-frame near Yosemite. 2 beds, 1 bath. Great weekend getaway or seasonal rental. Dogs welcome!
—Airbnb listing #1239485 (3.25 stars)
As burly firemen lugged their hydraulic cutters and spreaders toward him, Jordan touched Bree’s cheek and told her he’d see her soon. He desperately hoped it was true. But he could do nothing for her and had an escaped prisoner to catch.
Jordan jogged over to Beto—Alberto Soto, his chief deputy—who was standing in the patchy weeds along the shoulder by the back half of the prison van.
Beto held up an empty set of shackles. “She can’t have gotten far on foot.”
“Do we have any idea who she is?”
“I’m working on it.”
Judging by the number of incoming sirens, Gracia had sent every available unit and then some.
“I’ll go,” Jordan told him. “You direct traffic.”
Beto nodded. “Go get her, Sheriff.”
Behind the wheel, Jordan rolled north, away from the crash site, figuring the runner would flee from the first responders. But she would not be far from the road, and she would not want to get lost in the forest. Most offenders were neither criminal masterminds nor survivalists—they were opportunists. An escaped prisoner would look for civilian clothes and a car. He had to find her before she got mobile and left the area.
The first place he passed was a rundown prefab ringed by weather-beaten outbuildings. The compound was inside a climbable chain-link fence. When he slowed and rolled down his window, though, he heard the woofing of at least three or four big dogs. Even though he couldn’t see them, he knew the sound would be enough to deter an escapee.
He lowered the rest of his windows and gunned it, swiveling his head as he watched for movement. If she was smart, even if she was following the road, she would stay off it as much as possible. Again, he hadn’t met that many smart ones.
The next driveway was blocked with a cattle gate between two stone pillars, easy enough to climb over. Spotting an intercom, he pulled over and pressed the button.
“Yes?” The voice was female, a housekeeper if he had to guess.
“This is the sheriff. There is an escaped prisoner in the area, probably still wearing an orange jumpsuit. Have you seen anyone on your property?”
“N-no. I don’t see anything.”
“Lock your doors, and if you have dogs, let them out. If you see anything at all unusual, call 911.”
He pulled out faster than he meant to, fishtailing on the dirt before his tires grabbed the asphalt.
The prisoner would be looking for a house with no signs of life. But Jordan was already reaching the limit of how far she could have run in the time since the crash.
