She didn't turn on the light in the bedroom as she took off her pants. The shirt was too much trouble with her bad shoulder and she was too tired to bother. She just pulled the cover over her and plumped up the pillow.
It had been a terrible, frightening day, as she'd told Morgan. A day of terror and revelation and a wild mixture of emotion. A day that had drawn her closer to Morgan than she was comfortable with.
She shouldn't be that surprised. In life-threatening situations, sexuality often raised its head. She had experienced it once before with a young doctor on the flooded plains of Bangladesh. It had vanished as quickly as the danger.
But it hadn't been this strong.
It didn't matter. She could handle it. And Morgan was clearly not going to pursue that intimacy. Jesus, she was actually disappointed, she realized in disgust. All she needed was to jump into bed with a man like Morgan.
Except there was no other man like Morgan. She had never met anyone this complex, and the more she learned about him, the fewer weapons she had against him. His ways were not her ways, but it was difficult to condemn a man who—
Stop thinking about him. If she had to stay awake, think of something that would help her get out of this predicament.
Z-1. No, the picture was bigger now. Bigger and more bewildering. If Z-1 was Arapahoe Dam and that target had been destroyed . . .
Wouldn't Z-2 be next?
“What's the progress on Z-2?” Betworth asked. “You haven't got much time, Powers.”
“No problem. We'll meet the deadline.”
“But with what kind of success?”
“I think you should know that I'll follow through. The only reason there's been any delay is that you told me to go after Graham.”
“But that's not an excuse now. I gave that assignment to Jurgens.”
“And he hasn't been too successful, has he?”
“He'll get her. You concentrate on Z-2.” He hung up and leaned back in his chair. Keep calm. Everything would go as planned. He was handling all the details with his usual skill. Jurgens would find Graham and Morgan and take them out. Everything would be—
His phone rang.
“I can't find him, Betworth.”
Runne.
“For God's sake, why haven't you returned my calls?”
“I need to find him. I've run out of leads. You get me one.”
He drew a deep breath. No excuses. The arrogant, fanatical bastard was giving him orders. “Perhaps if you'd returned my calls, I could have given you some assistance.”
“Can you?”
He wanted to hang up on him. That would be a mistake. Runne was a wild card, but Betworth had plans for him. Besides, he might be the one who could bring in Morgan. “He was in Colorado a few days ago. He might still be there, but I doubt it. Wherever he is, he's with a woman, Alex Graham.”
“You're sure?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Can you send me a photo of her?”
“I don't have to. Pick up a newspaper. Don't you ever read a newspaper or watch television?”
“No.”
“Well, she's very hot. So it won't do any good to give you addresses or phone numbers.”
“Then what good is she to me?”
“It's pretty obvious Morgan isn't going to abandon her, so that makes her an albatross. She'll slow him down. He doesn't have to slow down much for you to catch him, does he?”
“No, but fax me the information anyway. I'll call you back and give you the fax number in the town I'm in. I might be able to go through her people to locate her.”
“I told you, everyone's searching for her.”
“That doesn't make any difference. They'll stop, they'll hesitate, they'll wonder if they'll get caught if they go too far. I have the advantage. I don't care.” He hung up.
“Okay.” Judd gazed out over the mountains. “I'll give you fifteen minutes' head start. You take off and hide from me. Get going.”
“You're tracking me?” Alex said. “How am I going to learn anything?”
“You make the trail and then we go back over it and see what you did wrong.”
“What I did wrong?”
“Sorry, wrong phrase. I'm used to hunting prey who don't want to be found. But it's the only way I know how to teach you. Take it or leave it.”
“I'll take it.” She took off running down the slope.
“Found.” Judd pulled Alex out of the brush. “You must be getting tired. You were really clumsy that time.”
“Thanks.” She grimaced. “That's the third time. I'm getting depressed. If it's that easy to track someone, why couldn't we find that little girl?”
“It's not easy. It takes practice. There are all kinds of things that obscure signs. She might have wandered in the shallow part of the river for a while. Rain could have washed the signs away. Children don't weigh much, and her feet probably made little impression in the grass. If she walked for a long time in the mud, she might have picked up enough of it on her shoes to form a pillow of mud. That makes it almost impossible to identify a human footstep except by the stride. A large animal might have walked over her prints and destroyed them. Or maybe you were at the wrong place at the wrong time.”