Out of the Storm (Buckhorn, Montana #1) - B.J. Daniels Page 0,67

Ray sounded as weak as his voice. “But it has been several days since she’s talked to her sister. Danielle’s cell has been going straight to voice mail. Nor has Danielle been in class the past two days.”

Jon swore. “She’s got to be the one.”

“My thought exactly. I have someone going to her apartment. Don’t worry. He knows how to handle it. I’ll keep in touch. And I have someone watching Mia. Once both young women are safe, I’ll let you know.”

“Thanks, but how are you?”

“Strong as an ox,” Earl Ray said before Bessie took the phone from him.

“He’s going to be okay, the doctor said. It was a minor attack. He doesn’t want you to worry. I have to go.” Before Bessie hung up, he heard Earl Ray in the background. The man was strong. Hopefully, he would be fine. Once both of Kate’s daughters were safe, Jon could get Kate. Until then, it was too dangerous.

He drove toward the border. He hadn’t called Homeland Security to stop Matthews at the border because he had no evidence that the man was about to break the law. Second, he couldn’t put Kate in danger along with her daughters.

He’d been banking on Earl Ray finding Mia and Danielle and making sure they were safe before he did anything. Once he knew, he could get Kate out. Or at least try. He had no idea how many men Matthews was meeting in Canada or what kind of firepower they might have. If he was right about the drugs, then they would all be armed and dangerous.

All he could do, he told himself, was keep going. The Opheim/West Poplar River border crossing was ahead. He knew he would be stopped, his old pickup checked and rechecked along with his passport in the name of Jon Harper. It would take time, time he had—at least for the moment.

He pulled up and put down his window, handing over his passport as if this was old hat. His was the only vehicle in the line this time of the evening. The border would close within the hour.

“Where are you headed?” the blue-suited Homeland Security cop asked.

“Moose Jaw to catch up with some friends, and then maybe over to Regina for a day or two.” He had no idea where Matthews would take him. He was covering his bets.

The cop nodded, pulled out a long stick with a mirror at the end and began inspecting the undercarriage of his pickup. “Can you pop the hood, please?”

He did and sat waiting, hoping he looked more bored than worried. He had nothing to hide—except for the weapons taped surreptitiously under his seat.

“You can close your hood,” the cop said as he peered behind the pickup’s seat. “I see you have some tools in the back?”

“Carpenter,” he said without hesitation. “I make furniture.”

“Planning on leaving anything in Canada?” No. “Planning on bringing anything back?” No.

“Not planning on anything but food, a motel room and some Canadian whiskey.”

“Okay,” the cop said, handing back his passport. “Drive carefully.”

“Will do,” he called out of the window as he drove into Canada.

The next time he checked his phone, the signals on Matthew’s SUV had stopped in the middle of nowhere. He waited for them to move. They didn’t.

* * *

KATE LOOKED OUT at the growing darkness as the officer approached the driver’s-side door, her heart in her throat. Why had Collin been pulled over? He hadn’t been speeding. Maybe he’d been red-flagged at the border. Was it possible they’d been waiting for him? That this whole thing had been a setup, and Collin had brought her into his scheme? Were they now both going to jail?

She wanted to yell at the officer that she’d been brought across the border with basically a gun to her head. She opened her mouth, her pulse a thunder in her ears.

“Just wanted to let you know you have a taillight out,” the officer said without bending down to look at either of them.

“Thanks,” Collin said. “I’ll get that fixed.”

“Officer,” Kate cried, but the rest of her words died on her lips as, with horror, she watched the uniformed man slip Collin a note, which he quickly pocketed. Kate stared in disbelief, telling herself she’d been seeing things. Maybe the cop had written Collin a warning, but she knew there hadn’t been time.

Collin put up his window as the Canadian version of highway patrol walked back to his rig, got in and pulled away with a flash of his