Going to Extremes Page 8

  Okay, enough with the obsessing!

  With an effort, Kaitlyn turned her attention to the menu as a slender, pretty waitress brought over glasses of water.

  As she bent to place them on the table, Kaitlyn said, “Hi, Patty.”

  “Hey, Kaitlyn. Heard about what happened to you out on Route 9. You okay?”

  “I’m fine. Starving, though. I’ll have my usual.”

  The waitress shook her head. “Where you put it all, I’ll never know.” She turned to Aidan and said quite seriously, “In case you’re picking up the check, I’d better warn you about this girl. She eats like a horse.”

  What a lovely image Patty had just planted in Aidan Campbell’s head. Perhaps it was just as well, Kaitlyn decided.

  “Patty, this is Aidan Campbell. He and a colleague are the ones who rescued me. Patty and I went to high school together.”

  Aidan extended his hand and the two of them shook.

  “You must be new in town,” Patty commented. “I don’t think I’ve seen you in here before.” And I’m sure I would have remembered, her expression implied.

  “I travel a lot.”

  “That so?”

  Instead of commenting further, as her tone invited, Aidan glanced down at the menu. “I’ll have a stack of pancakes and a side order of sausage.”

  “You want hash browns with that?”

  He glanced at Kaitlyn, who shrugged. “Go for it. You won’t catch me passing judgment. I’m having the Hungry Man Special.”

  “Bring me the hash browns,” he said with a wink.

  Patty got all flustered as she gathered up the menus, then giving Kaitlyn a knowing look, hurried off to the kitchen.

  “So,” Aidan said as he straightened his silverware, “you’re a hometown girl.”

  “More or less. My family lived in Washington, D.C., until I was a teenager, but we always spent summers here. When my parents divorced, my mother and I moved out here full-time.”

  “That must have been quite a culture shock,” he said. “This place is about as far removed from the Beltway as you can get.”

  Unrolling her own silverware, Kaitlyn placed her napkin on her lap. “Not really. I already had a lot of friends here, and I’ve always loved Montana. There’s just something about it that keeps you—I don’t know—grounded.”

  “Not a lot of opportunities for an ambitious reporter, I wouldn’t think.”

  Kaitlyn tried not to stare at him as they talked. If he had a flaw, she had yet to find it. “Who said anything about being ambitious?”

  “You told me you’ve been trying to get an interview with Cameron Murphy for years, and I know firsthand how blunt he can be. Plus, you braved some of the worst flooding this area has seen in years to get to Warden Green’s press conference. I’d say that’s pretty ambitious.”

  “Really? I call it doing my job.” Kaitlyn took a sip of her water. “Besides, good reporting is good reporting, no matter where you are. Working for a small paper is not easy. People don’t realize. We don’t have all the modern technology that the big news organizations employ these days. We don’t use stringers and we don’t rely solely on the wire services for our leads. We do our own research and legwork, conduct our own interviews, and we maintain a distinction between the news section and the editorial pages. You can’t always say that about some of the larger papers these days.”

  “Not only ambitious, but passionate,” Aidan murmured.

  The way he said passionate made her think of that kiss again. Honestly, how old was she? Twelve? “Is there anything wrong with being passionate?” she demanded.

  “Not at all. You seem to be pretty passionate about a lot of things.”

  Her gaze narrowed. Was that some kind of crack?

  “I’m talking about food.” He nodded toward the counter. “Looks like your friend is having some trouble fitting everything onto one tray.”

  Kaitlyn supposed she should have been embarrassed by the size of her order, but she’d always been a big eater and she hadn’t had a decent meal in days. If Aidan was turned off by her appetite, then so be it. Who cared what he thought anyway? He was just a guy who’d saved her life. She didn’t need to impress Aidan Campbell. Besides, if that kiss hadn’t impressed him, nothing would. She’d kind of impressed herself even.

  Kaitlyn took another sip of her water as Patty unloaded the tray: plates of pancakes dripping with real butter, hash browns fried to a golden crisp, fluffy scrambled eggs seasoned with green peppers and onions, sides of sausage and bacon, and, for good measure, homemade biscuits.

  “Good God,” Aidan muttered, his expression ranging from shock to admiration and finally settling on dismay. “Don’t tell me you’re going to eat all that.”

  “Shut up and pass the syrup,” Kaitlyn said as she munched on a piece of bacon. It was the perfect amount of doneness—not too crisp, not too limp—and she sighed happily. “I’ve always had a fast metabolism so I figure I’ve got another five years before I have to start watching my weight. Until then I fully intend to enjoy my carbs.”

  He eyed her plate. “I think carbs are the least of your worries.”

  She shrugged. “Whatever. I like food. So sue me.”

  “You’re passionate about food and you’re passionate about your job. What else should I know about you?”

  Oh, no, you don’t, Kaitlyn thought. You are not going to draw me out. We are not going to exchange intimacies. You are not going to make me like you.

  “You were right earlier when you said that I’m ambitious. For a lot of reasons, I’ve been playing it safe. Pretending that I don’t care about success and recognition. But lately I’ve been thinking that maybe it’s time to go after what I want, because I don’t want to look back ten or twenty years from now and have regrets.” What the hell? Now why had she told him all that?

  “Here’s to bigger and better things then.”

  “To different challenges.”

  “I’ll drink to that.” He lifted his water glass and eyed her over the rim. “So how does your father figure into all this new ambition?”

  Kaitlyn stared at him in surprise. “You know my father?”

  “Only by reputation. Logan Wilson, right? The war correspondent.” He paused. “Those are some mighty big shoes to fill.”

  His insinuation irritated the heck out of Kaitlyn and she thought almost in relief, Oh, yeah, this guy’s Mr. Perfect, all right. Except for the insensitive bastard part. “For your information, I’m not trying to follow in my father’s footsteps,” she snapped. “Some of us like to make our own way in the world.”

  “Whoa, time out. I didn’t mean to hit a nerve.”

  She lifted her chin. “You didn’t.” But, of course, he had hit a nerve.

  “Look, I’m sorry.” He set aside his fork and leaned toward her. “That was a stupid thing to say.”

  “It’s okay.” And oddly enough, it was.

  Kaitlyn blinked, surprised that her anger—not to mention her pride—could be pacified so easily by such a wimpy apology. Where was the groveling she usually expected? Where was a little righteous indignation when a girl needed it the most?

  Damn those eyes of his. They could melt a heart at twenty paces.

  “That’s okay,” she managed to say primly. “It’s just…”

  “You don’t owe me an explanation. You don’t owe me anything. I really am sorry.”

  Yes, you are, would have been her response to any other man on the planet. With Aidan Campbell, she just wanted to kiss and make up. Over and over and over.

  She was so in trouble here.

  “Okay, you did touch a nerve,” she admitted, rubbing the back of her neck. “My father has been on the ground in every war this country has been involved in for the past forty years. He won a Pulitzer for his reporting from Vietnam and another for a series he did during the Gulf War. He even interviewed Saddam Hussein a few months before the fall of Baghdad, and he’s one of the few western journalists that King Aleksandr has a
llowed to stay in Lukinburg while he prepares the country for war. So, yeah, you’re right. Those are some big shoes to fill.”

  Aidan said slowly, “Your father is in Lukinburg?”

  She shrugged. “Kind of ironic, isn’t it, considering that Aleksandr’s son, the crown prince, is right here in Montana, of all places. I have a contact in the governor’s office who’s trying to set up an interview for me.”

  “Shouldn’t be too hard,” Aidan said dryly. “Nikolai Petrov loves publicity.”

  “He’s a regular PR machine,” Kaitlyn agreed. “But he doesn’t do that many one-on-one interviews, and I’m not exactly Diane Sawyer or Katie Couric here. If I could pull off an exclusive at the same time my father is reporting from Lukinburg…” She trailed off, letting Aidan draw his own conclusion.

  “It would be quite the family coup,” he finished.

  “Wouldn’t it just?”

  “You’d pretty much be able to write your own ticket anywhere you want to go.”

  “That thought has occurred to me,” she admitted.

  “So if the Petrov interview means that much to you, why weren’t you in Helena covering his arrival instead of stranded in a flood on your way to the warden’s press conference?”

  “Because the prison break is a huge story, too, and because…” She glanced out the window.

  “Go on.”

  “I have my reasons, okay? Let’s just leave it at that.”

  He started to say something else, but Patty came to clear the table just then, and thankfully, the interruption provided Kaitlyn an excuse to change the subject. She didn’t want to talk about her connection to Boone Fowler, or her intense need to see the man returned to prison where he belonged. She didn’t want to explain why she’d betrayed her best friend or the part she’d played in Jenny’s death. She didn’t want to explain any of that to Aidan Campbell because, suddenly, she didn’t want him to know the kind of person she’d once been. The man had risked his life to save hers. Call her crazy, but she didn’t want him to think it had been a big waste of his time.

  “My turn,” she said, glancing back at him.

  He lifted a brow. “Your turn?”

  “To ask the questions.” She blotted a water ring on the table with her napkin. “That’s what we ambitious reporters do, you know. We ask questions. Lots and lots of questions.”

  He seemed a bit wary all of a sudden. “What is it you want to know?”

  Where to begin? “Why did you decide to become a bounty hunter?”

  “I needed a job and Murphy offered me one. Next question.”

  “Hold on, I have a follow-up.”

  “No follow-ups.”

  She gave him a wry look. “You’ve done this before, I see. Okay, consider this a separate question then. Did the two of you serve together in the military?”

  “He was my commanding officer before he resigned his commission five years ago.”

  “After his sister was killed in the bombing, right? He came back here to look for Boone Fowler.”

  “You’ll have to ask him about his motives. I don’t make it a habit of answering for someone else.” He was definitely being cagey now, which wasn’t fair considering she’d practically spilled her guts to him.

  Kaitlyn had so much more she wanted to ask him, but she put the interrogation on hold as Patty came over again to bring the check. Kaitlyn reached for it, but Aidan beat her to it.

  “You should let me get that,” she protested. “I owe you.”

  “You can get it the next time.” He grabbed his wallet and pulled out some bills.

  Wait a minute, Kaitlyn thought. Was there going to be a next time?

  Did she want a next time?

  Now that was an excellent question.

  LATE THAT AFTERNOON, Aidan and Powell returned to the canyon where they’d found Kaitlyn two days earlier. Michael Clark accompanied them, and after Powell established a hover, Aidan and Clark fast-roped down to the edge of the canyon to have a look around.

  Aidan didn’t really believe they’d find evidence of Kaitlyn’s complicity with the fugitives. Even if she had gone up there to meet Boone Fowler—which he still seriously doubted—any footprints or ATV tracks that would have proved she hadn’t been alone would have been washed away by the rain.

  Aidan agreed with Powell on one thing, though. Fowler and his gang were getting help from someone. It had been more than four days since the escape, and in spite of roadblocks, aerial surveillance and an all-out manhunt by local, state and federal law-enforcement—not to mention Big Sky Bounty Hunters—the fugitives remained at large. Dozens of leads continued to pour in, but most of them had yet to pan out.

  Given the tight net that had quickly dropped over the area, Aidan doubted the fugitives had managed to make it across the state line. More than likely, they were holed up somewhere nearby, which led him back to the original question. Who the hell was helping them?

  They had to have a hideout where someone brought supplies and information. Aidan figured the accomplice was someone local, someone familiar with the terrain, and if that someone turned out to be Kaitlyn, she would be in big trouble, no matter her reason. Even he wouldn’t be able to save her in that case.

  But the woman wasn’t stupid. No matter how much she wanted to impress her father, she hadn’t come across as desperate. Ambitious, yes, and judging by her actions, she could also be impulsive. But making a deal with Boone Fowler for a story would be akin to selling her soul to the devil.

  Still…there had been that moment in their conversation when she had evaded his question about her decision to cover the prison-break story over Petrov. “I have my reasons, okay? Let’s just leave it at that.”

  Finishing their exploration along the canyon rim, Aidan and Clark widened the perimeter of their search. The abandoned hunting lodge he’d pointed out from the air was about a hundred yards or so straight back into the woods. Making sure the surrounding area was secure, they approached the building with caution. Climbing the rickety steps, Aidan kicked open the door, and then, weapons drawn, they both went in.

  On first glance, the place looked as if it hadn’t been occupied in years. The large room reeked of mold and dust, and a layer of grime on the glass filtered the sunlight coming in through the windows.

  The only furnishings in the room were a table and two wooden chairs, and the only outside door was the one they’d come through. Both Aidan and Clark made sure they didn’t put their backs to it.

  Moving stealthily about the room, Aidan took out his flashlight and probed the dim corners. Cobwebs hung from the beamed ceiling, but the stone floor was surprisingly clean.

  He knelt and ran his hand over the surface. Nothing. Not even so much as a film of dust.

  “What do you make of this?”

  Clark came over and squatted beside him. He was dressed in fatigues the same as Aidan, and his dark hair was hidden by a cap pulled low over his features. “Someone’s been busy.”

  “It’s not just clean, it’s been scrubbed,” Aidan said. “Now, why would someone go to that kind of trouble?”

  “Because they wanted to get rid of something, obviously.” Clark took out his own flashlight. He bent low as he angled his beam across the floor. “Looks like they missed a spot.” He got up and walked over to the table and chairs, then knelt again to run his light over the wooden legs. “Take a look at this.”

  Aidan crouched beside him to examine the dark splotches. Moistening the tip of his finger, he touched one of the spots, then brought it to his nose. “Blood,” he said. “I’d say it’s fairly fresh.”

  Clark’s expression turned grim. “Maybe we’d better have a closer look outside. I’ll take the back.”

  They exited the lodge, and while Clark headed around the building, Aidan stood at the bottom of the steps and tried to map the area in his head.

  Route 9 lay south of the lodge. According to Kaitlyn’s story, she’d followed an old hunting path northward up the mountain. Aidan knew t
he trail she meant, and assuming she’d more or less stayed on course, she would have ended up at the lodge. The ravine was a hundred yards to the west. For some reason, she’d veered off course and ended up on that ledge.

  Locating the trail, Aidan stood at the edge of the woods and studied the area, trying to imagine what Kaitlyn might have seen when she came out of the trees. By then she’d probably been walking for at least a couple of hours through bad weather and difficult terrain. When she reached the lodge, she would have been cold, wet and exhausted. The logical thing to do would be to seek shelter inside from the storm.

  Aidan traced what he imagined were her steps across the clearing, but instead of going inside, he walked over to the front window. He couldn’t predict exactly how Kaitlyn would have reacted, but he’d seen her in action and knew that she wasn’t prone to panic. She might be impulsive at times, but she also knew how to keep her head. He’d stake his life that, rather than rushing headlong into the lodge, she would have checked things out first, especially if she had reason to believe someone else might be inside.

  The window was several feet from the ground, but even someone as tiny as Kaitlyn would have been able to peer inside. The grime on the glass would have inhibited her view, but if a light had been on inside, she would have been able to see well enough.

  Crouching beneath the window, Aidan searched the still-damp ground, not really expecting to find footprints, but what he did spot was even more interesting.

  Digging the cell phone out of the mud, he cleaned it on his fatigues, then pressed the on button. Nothing happened. He wasn’t surprised. The phone had obviously been there for a while. At least a few days.

  He started to slip it into his jacket pocket, then paused as a conversation with Kaitlyn came back to him.

  “If you hadn’t had the presence of mind to use your flashlight to signal us, we would never have spotted you.”