latte with extra foam, reading—okay, she’d probably be reading a murder mystery or a true-crime book about a serial killer. The Pacific Northwest seemed to have those in spades.
A piece of soggy, yellow tape stirring in the breeze indicated that she’d reached the spot. Law enforcement had drilled orange caution cones into the ground around the mine opening and had boarded over the top. Nobody would be able to use this abandoned mine for any kind of nefarious purpose again.
She nudged one of the cones with the toe of her boot—it didn’t budge. Wedging her hands on her hips, she surveyed the area. No recognition pinged in her chest. Her breathing remained calm, too, so nothing here was sending her into overdrive.
Not that she’d really expected it. Wyatt Carson had chosen this place to stash his victims because he’d discovered it or had searched for someplace to hide the children, not because he’d known it from twenty-five years before when he was just a child himself, when his own brother Stevie Carson had been snatched.
But one kidnap story might lead to another. Maybe the Timberline Trio had been held here before...before what? If she really were one of the Timberline Trio, those children obviously weren’t dead. So, why had they been kidnapped? Why had she been kidnapped?
There was something about this place—Timberline—that struck a chord within her. As soon as she’d seen that stuffed frog in the window of the tourist shop during a TV news story about the Wyatt Carson kidnappings, she’d known she had to come here. She could be Heather Brice, and she had to find out.
Crouching down, she scooted closer to the entrance of the mine. When Carson had found it, the mine had a cover that he’d then blocked with a boulder. All that had been removed and cleared out.
She flattened herself onto her belly and army-crawled between the cones. Someone had already pried back and snapped off a piece of wood covering the entrance.
With her arms at her sides, she placed her forehead against one slat of wood and peered into the darkness below. She’d like to get down there just to have a look around. Maybe the local sheriff’s department would allow it if she promised to get their mugs on TV.
A swishing noise coming up behind her had her digging the toes of her boots into the mushy earth. She’d just put herself into an extremely vulnerable position—an idiotic thing to do with that ex-con roaming the woods. A branch snapped. She slipped her hand inside her pocket and gripped the pepper spray, her finger in position.
A man’s voice yelled out. “Hey!”
Then a strong vise clamped around her ankle. This was it. In one fluid motion, she dragged the pepper spray from her pocket, rolled to her back, aimed and fired.
The man released her ankle immediately and staggered back, one arm flung over his face.
Beth jumped to her feet, holding the spray in front of her with a shaky hand, ready to shoot again.
Her attacker cursed and spit.
Beth’s eyebrows shot up. The ex-con had gotten bigger...and meaner.
Then he lowered his hands from his face and glared at her through dark eyes streaming with tears. Those eyes widened and he cursed again.
He cleared his throat and coughed. “Beth St. Regis. I should’ve known it was you.”
Beth dropped her pepper spray and clasped her hand over her heart. She’d rather be facing a tiger right now than Duke Harper—the man she’d loved and betrayed.
Duke’s eyes stung and his nose burned, lighting his lungs on fire with every breath he took. Even through his tears, he couldn’t mistake the woman standing in front of him, her shoulder-length, strawberry blond hair disheveled and her camera-ready features distorted by surprise and...fear.
She should be afraid—very afraid after the way she’d used him.
He kicked at the pepper spray nestled in the green carpet between them. “Is that the stuff I gave you?”
“I...I think so.”
“Then I’ll count myself lucky because that’s expired. You should’ve replaced it last year, but if you had, I wouldn’t be standing upright forming words.” He pulled up the hem of his T-shirt to his face and wiped his tears and his nose.
Miss Perfect would hate that he’d just used his shirt as a handkerchief—and that was fine with him. He peered at her through blurry eyes and she still looked perfect—damn it.
She wrinkled her nose. “I’m sorry. I thought you were an ex-con attacking me.”
She must be referring to Gary Binder, unless there were other ex-cons in Timberline who lived out this way. He’d already done his homework on the case but he had no intention of sharing his info with her. Oh, God, she had to be here for the same case he’d been assigned to investigate.
He narrowed his already-narrowed eyes. “You’re doing a story for your stupid show on the Timberline Trio, aren’t you?”
“That stupid show, as you call it, got a point-six rating last year, more than half of those viewers in the prime demographic.” She tossed her hair over one shoulder as only Beth St. Regis could.
“Junk TV.”
She clapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide. “Oh, my God. That’s why you’re here. You’re investigating the Timberline Trio.”
“What else would I be doing here?” He lifted one eyebrow and crossed his arms. “Do you think I followed you to Timberline?”
Red flags blazed in her cheeks. “Of course not. Why would I think that? What we had was...”
“Over.”
“Yeah, over.” She waved her hand in the general direction of his face. “Are you okay? I really did think you were that ex-con coming after me. Why did you grab my leg?”
“I thought you were falling in.”
“Through that small space?”
“I couldn’t see how big it was.”
“I was fine. As soon as I heard you coming, I got ready for the attack. You told me once I needed to be more careful, more aware of my surroundings.”
“Good to see you’re taking my advice...about something.” He ran a hand across his face once more and sniffled. “Where’s the rest of your crew, or are you a one-woman show now? I guess Beth St. Regis doesn’t need other people—unless she’s using them.”
Her nostrils flared but she ignored the barb. “I’m doing some prep work. My cameraman and producer will be coming out later.”
“And the circus will ensue.”
“If the FBI is involved, there really must be something to investigate.”
She brushed off her jeans that fit her a little too closely, so he kept his blurry eyes pinned to her face.
“Isn’t that why this case is on your radar? You must’ve heard about the new information we got during the investigation of the copycat kidnappings.” He cocked his head. “Come to think of it, I have a hard time believing the old Timberline Trio case is sexy enough for Cold Case Chronicles. Maybe you followed me out here.”
Her sky blue eyes widened for a split second and then she giggled nervously, her hand hovering near her mouth. “I have no idea what happened to you after...that last case, Duke Harper. You dumped me, and it’s not like I’ve been following your career or anything like a stalker.”
A thrill of pleasure winged through his body at her lie. So she’d been tracking him. What did that say about him that the thought gave him satisfaction? It also meant she knew about the royal screwup that had resulted in the death of his