The worst kind, Jake thought, glancing in Buzz’s direction. A killer on the run with nothing to lose.
“Looks like that pretty wife of yours is keeping you up nights, Maitland.”
Both men turned their heads to see Tony “Flyboy” Colorosa, RMSAR’s Bell 412 helicopter pilot—and resident Romeo—splash coffee into a cup.
“You look like you had a late one yourself, Flyboy,” Jake said.
“What can I say, Jake? Some of us actually have social lives.” Tony whistled a tune as he spooned sugar into his coffee. “You should try it sometime. Might improve that surly attitude of yours.”
“Yeah, and it might stop snowing in Colorado one of these days.” Grinning, Maitland slapped Jake on the back.
Trying not to grimace, Jake blew on his coffee.
“Gentlemen, take a seat.” Buzz moved to the head of the table. “We’re on a tight clock this morning, so I’ll keep this brief.”
Jake took the chair next to junior medic Pete Scully.
Buzz continued. “The State of Colorado Department of Corrections has asked for our help in locating an escapee from prison. Robert Singletary and Jim Neels are with D.O.C., which is our designated agency-in-charge. Jim is going to brief you on our mission objectives.” Buzz gave the floor to the man standing beside him.
Jim Neels was a middle-aged man with hound-dog features and the build of a retired linebacker. His hopelessly wrinkled suit coupled with the half moons beneath his eyes revealed he’d already had a long night. His dour expression suggested he knew the day ahead would be even longer.
“Sometime between ten last night and three-thirty this morning, an inmate escaped from the Buena Vista Corrections Center for Women,” he began. “Abigail Nichols, twenty-seven years old, is a convicted murderer serving a life sentence at our facility. We’re in the process of setting up a perimeter, but there’s a lot of country to cover and we need your help.” Neels scanned the men. “This is a search-only operation, gentlemen. If you come in contact with Nichols, you are advised to use extreme caution.” His gaze fell to Jake. “Mr. Madigan, you’re the only law enforcement officer on the team?”
“I’m a deputy sheriff with Chaffee County.”
Nodding, Neels continued. “Aside from Deputy Madigan, if you come in contact with the subject, do not attempt to detain her or to take her into custody. Call D.O.C. for backup. RMSAR dispatch has been informed to patch you straight through. Is that understood?”
Tony Colorosa yawned. John Maitland drained the last of his coffee from his cup. Even Pete Scully looked bored. Trying not to smile, Jake leaned back in his chair, crossed his legs at his ankles and studied his boots. The men of RMSAR didn’t like some suit from D.O.C. coming in and telling them how to do their jobs. They were the best of the best and had yet to encounter a search-and-rescue mission they couldn’t pull off.
“This woman has a history of mental illness,” Neels added. “She may have an accomplice, but we don’t know who that person is at this time. Be advised that she may be armed and should be considered dangerous.”
“Do you have a location?” Jake asked. “Any sightings?”
Buzz walked to an easel where a topography map illustrated the five-county area surrounding the prison. Suit Number Two came to life and pointed out the corrections facility. “This is our facility at Buena Vista. We’ve got a five-hour window. The average person travels at about 3.2 miles per hour on foot. We think she went west.” He indicated a highlighted area. “That should put her somewhere in this yellow area here.”
“Does she have a vehicle?” Jake asked.
“Not that we know of, but it’s possible her accomplice left one at a predesignated point.”
Jake snorted. “If she’s on foot and went west, she’s not going to make very good time. It’s rugged country up there.”
Suit Number Two grimaced. “Nichols is very…determined.”
Jake wasn’t sure exactly what the other man meant, but he let it go. No matter how determined, a human being on foot could only cover so much ground. “What about gear?”
“State-issue jumpsuit—gray. Blue jacket. White sneakers. That’s all she’s got unless someone left clothing for her at a predesignated drop-off point.”
“Anyone bringing in dogs?” Buzz asked.
“Chaffee County is covering that. Forest service has notified all the area ranger stations.”
“What about a physical description?” John asked.
The suit flipped the easel page, and the room fell abruptly silent. The mug shot of a young woman with a mane of curly brown hair streaked generously with platinum blond arrested the attention of every man. Jake saw wide eyes the color of a mountain lake reflecting a violet sky. Thin, dark brows. A full mouth with just enough pout to keep a man on his toes. A graceful neck that called every man in the room to crane forward to see the rest of the package.
Jake broke a sweat beneath his flannel shirt and long johns. He stared, more than a little surprised and a hell of a lot more intrigued than he wanted to be. The lovely creature staring back at him didn’t look like an escaped con. Maybe a shampoo commercial model with all that wild, sun-bleached hair.
“She’s five feet five inches,” Suit Number Two said. “One hundred fifteen pounds. Violet eyes. Blond hair.”
The voice faded as Jake’s attention zeroed in on the mug shot. Her skin was flawless and pale as sweet cream. Her expression reflected defiance and an attitude that took a hard left just short of good. Her eyes spoke of a woman’s secrets and beckoned the unwary to trust her.
Jake definitely didn’t fall into the unwary category. Two years ago he’d played the fool for a woman with a pretty face and a tale of woe. Her betrayal still cut him on occasion, when he let himself think about it. He knew better than most that looks could be deceiving. And he knew firsthand what it was like to be on the receiving end of deceit. He felt the knife in his back to this day, and he’d sworn a hundred times he’d never be taken in again.
“Any questions?”
Jake cleared the cobwebs from his throat. “Any idea where she’s heading?”
“We found a map in her cell with a penciled-in route that indicated east. But we think it was a ploy to throw us off. We’re setting up patrols to the east, but as I already mentioned we suspect she’s heading west, into the higher elevations.” Checking his watch, the suit turned the floor over to Buzz.
Buzz looked at Tony Colorosa. “Flyboy, what’s the situation on the weather?”
Tony came to attention. He might be the resident Romeo, but he took his job as chopper pilot serious to the extreme. “Weather Service put out an advisory about an hour ago. There’s a low-pressure system to the northwest, building up steam and heading this way. It’s packing two feet of snow and high winds that’ll hit fifty knots by this afternoon. Gusts are at thirty-five right now. I’d say we have about two hours of fly time, four max before I’ll have to recall to base.”
Buzz didn’t look happy about sending his pilot out in iffy weather. “That gives us four hours with the chopper, gentlemen. The rest of the search will be conducted on the ground. Tell your mommies and girlfriends you’re not going to be home for breakfast, lunch or dinner.” Buzz made eye contact with Jake. “Where do you want to start?”
Jake looked at the map, took a few seconds to put himself in the subject’s head. “I’ll drop the trailer west of Buena Vista, see if I can pick up some tracks.”
Buzz’s attention shot back to his pilot. “Flyboy, you and Scully take the chopper northwest and do a sweep. Once we hit forty knots, I want you in. Got it?”
Tony