Page 76 of Three Steps Behind

She climbed inside and he draped his arm on top of the door. “I really believe so.”

He turned on the engine and cranked up the heat. “We’ll get him. It might just take time.” He truly believed they would—his cynical inner voice finally shushing on the matter. God was a God of justice, and Deck trusted Nick would face it one way or another.

“If he thinks we’re on to him, he’ll probably run.”

Deck reversed out of the spot and turned onto the road. “Then we’ll just have to run faster.”

Thirty

DECK GLANCED in the rearview mirror, then repeated the action a few seconds later.

Harper shifted, looking over the back of her seat at a pair of headlights. Check that. Two pairs of headlights in the distance. Not uncommon, but when Deck looked back for a third time, worry settled into her gut.

“What is it?” she asked.

The car right behind them took a right, which left one vehicle, but two more entered the freeway at the next ramp.

“I’m watching the third car back,” he said. “May be nothing, but . . .” He let his words fall off as they wound their way up the curvy, two-lane road. One lane veered off, lined by a small track of native plants covered in snow.

They continued up the ice-patched, now-treacherous mountain slope. Deckard shifted the truck into four-wheel drive, gaining traction up the steep, inclined pass on the far end of Jeopardy Falls.

He again flashed his gaze to the rearview mirror, and Harper turned to look over her shoulder a second time.

The car in question banked right, entering the last neighborhood before the dirt road leading to the family ranch.

“I don’t see the car anymore. Must have just been driving home,” she said, shifting to face forward, her tight shoulders relaxing.

“Yep,” Deck said.

She narrowed her eyes. “But your gut says otherwise?”

“I don’t know. Who would bother following us? Nick could have no way of knowing what we found . . . unless he went to use the lower fire pit and noticed the ashes and logs had been disturbed.”

“That is possible, or perhaps he didn’t like us talking to George. . . . I mean, what are the chances two guys from the same college, same fraternity, both have wives die in their thirties only a year apart?”

“Good point.” Deckard tapped the wheel. “We might have to look deeper into George.”

“Agreed.”

Her returning tension eased as they passed under the Second Chances Ranch sign on Deck’s property.

She let out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

They were home—at least her temporary lodging, but something about it felt like home. She couldn’t help but wonder if it was the house itself or the man opening the truck door for her. He offered his hand, and she took hold—growing evermore accustomed to his touch. It was a good sign, but the buzzing sound overhead was not.

She narrowed her eyes, peering into the cloudy night sky. “Is that a—”

“Drone.” Deck reached for her hand. “Let’s get inside.”

She watched the drone as it followed them to the door.

Deck hurried them inside the house, the inner warmth hitting her like a wall. Riley must have the fire up, and it heated her chilled bones immediately.

“I’ll be right back,” Deck said, grabbing his rifle.

“Are you going to—”

He strode out the door before she finished her sentence.