“How would Bitty get that?” he asked in disbelief. “I doubt she knew much about usin’ a computer let alone how to find a deleted history.”

“What if she didn’t need the history? She brought me lunch in Max’s office. I’m pretty sure I was on the video cam website, Wyatt.”

He inhaled sharply. “But she’d still need the username.”

“You told me the email address out loud. She could have heard it. I said the numbers out loud too.” How could I have been so careless?

“And she gave the information to one of the murderers,” he said. “Maybe she thought she was meetin’ him to get her reward, but instead of money, she got a bullet to her head.”

Sadly, I suspected he was right.

“Shit.” He shot me a glance. “Someone’s tyin’ up loose ends.”

My stomach dropped.

He hit the brakes and pulled to the side of the road, making a screeching U-turn before heading back to Drum.

“What are you doing?” I asked, starting to panic.

“Gettin’ you the hell out of this town.” He hit the gas and started to speed.

“Wyatt, slow down. We can’t risk getting pulled over.”

“I’m not slowing down until we’re out of this county,” he said, his hands tight on the steering wheel.

But he did adjust his speed as we passed through Drum. I cast a glance at the motel as we slowly pulled past it. The crime scene tape was gone, and so was the old station wagon.

“Who owns that old station wagon that’s always there?” I asked, my voice tight. “I’ve never seen it gone.”

“It’s Jerry’s.”

“Where’s Jerry?” I asked in a panic. “What if someone kills him next?”

“We can’t worry about Jerry right now,” Wyatt said, reaching over and snagging my hand. “You are my main concern. Once I know you’re safe, I’ll find him.”

“What about Hank? Who’s going to take care of him tonight?”

“He’s fine on his own. After Max called and said Bingham had you cornered, he practically kicked me out the door with his remaining foot.” He gave me a reassuring smile. “Hank will be fine. That man knows how to take care of himself.”

We’d made it through to the other side of Drum, and Wyatt increased his speed but kept to the speed limit on the winding road. As we approached the turnoff to Ewing, red flashing lights appeared behind us.

I turned in my seat, trying to see into the windshield of the pursuing car, but the glare of the headlights made it impossible. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m not speeding,” Wyatt said. “They have no reason to pull me over.”

My stomach churned. “So you’re not pulling over?”

“No.”

Wyatt was a convicted felon. What kind of trouble could he get into if he didn’t obey an officer of the law?

I started to cry.

He grabbed my hand and squeezed. “Don’t worry. I’m gonna make sure you’re safe.”

“I’m more worried about you.”

He shot me a grin. “I knew you liked me,” he said, repeating what I’d told him when I was saving him from the truck.

“Wyatt.”

He eyed the rearview mirror.

Desperate for a solution that wouldn’t end in his arrest, I said, “If we pull over and Deputy Spigot gets out of the car, we’ll take off before he reaches your door. Or we can call ahead somewhere and tell them we’re worried for our safety. That way we can prove we had just cause to not pull over.”

He frowned but gave it a couple of seconds of consideration. Moments later, he made a hard right onto the county road toward Ewing and picked up his radio. It shocked the hell out of me when I heard him say, “Drummond Ranch. Do you copy?”

“You’re calling your father?”

He cast a glance at the sheriff car that was still trailing us. “Other than Bingham, he’s the only one powerful enough to help us, and I’d rather not be askin’ any favors from Bingham.”

“The devil you know,” I said, my heart sinking. This was all my fault.

“Drummond Ranch,” Wyatt said, more insistently. “This is Wyatt Drummond needing emergency assistance. Copy?”

“Wyatt?” Carson’s voice crackled over the radio. “Where are you?”

“On Highway 25, heading toward Ewing. I have a deputy with lights following us, and I don’t think it’s legit. I have Carly with me, and I suspect Seth Chalmers’ murderers are tyin’ up loose ends.”

“I’m coming back from Ewing,” Carson said, “I have a few men with me. Pull into the parking lot for Balder Mountain Trailhead, and I’ll meet you there in five minutes with reinforcements.”

“Roger,” Wyatt said, but he didn’t look reassured.

“Do you trust him?”

“While there’s no love lost between me and my father, my mother is a different story.” He cast me a quick glance. “She’s why I came back. She’s sick. Cancer.”

A lump formed in my throat. “Wyatt. I’m sorry.”

He gave a quick shake of his head. “I’m only tellin’ you because Carson has a soft spot for her. He won’t let anything happen to me. It would kill her if something happened to me.”

“Then we’ll do as he says and meet him there.”

He nodded. “Okay.”

The sheriff’s car still followed us, but it wasn’t gaining on us. The driver didn’t seem too worried about the possibility of losing us.

“What if the sheriff car’s legit?” I asked.

“I don’t see how,” Wyatt said. “I didn’t do anything wrong.” He made the turnoff for the trailhead, then pulled into the lot and parked the truck sideways in front of the trail. “Come on,” he said, unfastening his seatbelt while I did the same. “We’re sittin’ ducks here. We’ll hide in the trees until Carson shows up.”

I fumbled with the door handle, then practically fell out, remembering to grab my purse at the last minute. Wyatt took my hand and pulled me into the darkness. The path was smooth at the entrance, but less than ten feet in, my boot hit a stone and I nearly face-planted. Wyatt caught me just before I hit, but my ankle screamed with pain.

The sheriff car pulled to a halt, and a few seconds later a man called out, “Wyatt! It’s Marco! Max’s friend!”

Wyatt froze as though weighing his options. He positioned us behind a tree, pressing my belly into the trunk while his body completely covered mine from behind.

“Why were you tryin’ to pull me over?” he yelled back.

“Detective White is worried about Carly. She thinks someone is going to try to kill her. I’m supposed to bring her to the sheriff’s station until the state troopers arrive.”

“Why is she involving the state troopers?” Wyatt shouted back.

“Because we’ve tied Deputy Spigot to Seth Chalmers’ murder with the bullet casings found in the parking lot. She thinks the department needs outside supervision.”

Wyatt was silent for a moment. “This is your call,” he whispered.