Undercut

by Heather Day Gilbert

  A lone man slouched against a tree not far from her Honda. He stood as she came closer. She fumbled in her roomy purse for her keys, hearing her sister’s lecturing voice in her head. Always be prepared, Katie would say. Have your keys ready and your finger on the car alarm. Make sure you constantly scan your environment.

  The large man walked toward her, causing her to search more frantically through her leather tote. Her hand skimmed past cough drops, lipsticks, and tissue packets. She had to find her keys.

  Just as the man stopped short in front of her, her fingers closed around her Greenbrier keychain. She withdrew the keys, gripping one between her fingers like a weapon, just the way Katie had shown her.

  “Excuse me, ma’am?” He was wearing a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes. His brown leather jacket looked well-worn. And his hand was in his pocket.

  The urge to respond politely was so deeply ingrained, she nearly answered him. But Katie’s voice rang even more loudly in her thoughts. Run and scream! Get as far away as you can!

  Kicking off her heels, Molly turned and did just that. And when one of the groundskeepers hurried to her aid, she pointed toward her car and dropped into a heap on the grass, all her remaining energy spent.

  He went to investigate, but came back shrugging. “No one’s there, and I don’t see anyone around,” he said. “Maybe you’d better report it.”

  The man stood by as she shakily pulled out her cell phone and called Katie. Oh, she’d report it, all right—to her sister’s fiancé Ace Calhoun, who happened to be a police officer.

  Molly could tell Katie was upset when she walked into the lobby. Although her face reflected her normal librarian calm, Katie’s long red hair had been tossed into a crooked ponytail and she wore a pair of oversized leather flip flops that probably belonged to their brother.

  Ace, on the other hand, looked like a superhero with his dark, short hair and blue police uniform. He ran his icy gaze over the lobby, flexing his jaw occasionally. Molly didn’t care for guns, but she was relieved to see that Ace carried his, and she knew Katie always had a concealed gun somewhere on her person. Her sister didn’t like to be caught unawares.

  As she herself had been.

  She stood and hugged Katie. “I’m so sorry to bother—”

  “Don’t you dare say that. Who was that creep? What did he do? Ace didn’t tell me much.”

  Molly met Ace’s serious blue gaze, then focused on Katie again. “Honestly, not much to tell. Just some guy in a baseball hat who approached me and started talking. I got worried because his hand was in his pocket and he was blocking my way to my car. I couldn’t really make out his face.”

  Katie squeezed her hand. “Go on.”

  “Well, I heard your voice in my head, sis. So I started screaming and I hightailed it out of there.”

  “Good job! Nice to know all my self-defense lectures weren’t in vain.”

  Ace’s deep voice piped in. “The fact that he ran when you screamed means he was probably planning something. Anything unusual happen today? See anyone strange lurking around?”

  “Just a regular day.” Molly twirled one of her curls as she mentally rehashed the events of the day. “Well, just one unusual thing.” She stopped abruptly.

  “And that was?” Katie probed.

  Molly didn’t want to tell Katie about Zane. In fact, she’d never even mentioned that they’d dated last year. Katie would find endless ways to tease her about her lumberjack obsession, then she would tell their brother Brandon, and he would be even worse.

  She turned to Ace. “Could I talk to you alone for a minute?”

  Katie placed her hands on her hips. “Oh no, you don’t. You know perfectly well that Ace tells me everything. We’ll be married before you know it. No secrets, sis.”

  Molly’s deep sigh drew even more attention their way than Ace’s uniform had. “Okay. You remember Zane Boone from school? Went into the Marines right after graduation?” She rambled on before Katie could guess there was more to the story. “Anyway, I ran into him today—he’s doing some kind of contract work at The Greenbrier. While we were talking in the lobby, he saw this man who was acting strange, so he sort of shoved me out of the way in case the guy was a threat. He really seemed to get his hackles up.”

  “And you think this strange man was the same guy you saw outside?” Ace asked.

  She pondered a moment, then shook her head. “No, not really. That guy was all dressed up and thinner than the man by my car. But it was the only out-of-the-ordinary thing that happened today.”

  Katie scrunched her nose, a sure sign she was thinking hard. “Zane Boone, you say? Wasn’t he that guy who played nearly every sport—you know, the one who looked like Heath Ledger? It seems like you had this huge crush on him…”

  Actually, now he better resembled Captain America with a beard, but she wouldn’t elaborate. “I’m trying to explain about the guy in the parking lot.”

  Her forbidding tone must’ve been clear, because Ace gave her a long look. “I’ll go check around your car.” He paced toward the front door. He’d been around the McClure family long enough to sense when a sisterly tiff was brewing.

  “We’ll be right behind you,” Katie shouted toward his back. She took Molly’s arm and lowered her voice. “Come on. Tell me everything, because you know I’ll find out anyway.”

  By the time they reached Molly’s apartment, Molly was having the visual aura that usually preceded her migraines. She was glad she’d let Katie drive for her, because the flashing lights and temporary loss of vision always forced her to pull over. Of course, this meant she’d been trapped with her younger sister, who had easily deduced that her high school infatuation with Zane was still in full swing. Luckily, she was too tired and out of it to care.

  She hugged Katie and gave Ace’s arm a friendly pat before they left. “Thank you so much for coming to help. Just tell Mom it was nothing, okay?”

  Ace muttered something noncommittal and Katie shrugged. “We’ll tell her the truth. Mom can handle more than you think.”

  Molly closed the door firmly, turning her deadbolt. She was ready for some pain relievers, a candlelit hot bath, and cozying into her favorite silk pajamas, even though it was hardly dark outside yet. Had she overreacted? Ace hadn’t thought so. But sometimes she wished she didn’t have to look out for herself quite so much. She worked hard to make her own money. Yes, she could buy all the upscale clothing and take-out she wanted. But at the end of the day, her heart was lonely because she had no one to share things with. Katie was engrossed in wedding plans, and Brandon lived in Arizona. Mom had always been a willing confidante when it came to romantic struggles, but now she was preoccupied with Katie’s wedding, too.

  The intoxicating thing about Zane was that even if she could hardly get beyond that impenetrable exterior, he was the kind of listener who seemed to genuinely care what she said. He wasn’t playing an angle to get close to her, like most of the men she’d dated. He was one of the few men she’d ever met who would dare to contradict her.

  As she sat by the tub and drew her bath, she wished she could call Zane to tell him about her mysterious run-in today. But she tamped down the urge to pick up her phone. She had to admit that Zane had the air of a taken man. Was it possible he still carried a torch for his lame ex-wife?

  What Molly wouldn’t give to have a chat with that woman.

  As she slid into the hot, jasmine-scented water, her skin pinked up. She closed her eyes and let her thoughts drift, but they returned time and time again to Zane’s thoughtful gray gaze. Friday night couldn’t come soon enough.

  3

  Zane’s dad pushed the salad bowl across the farmhouse-style table, his forehead wrinkling when Zane didn’t take any. “Not hungry, son?”

  Zane forced a smile that probably looked as fake as it felt. “I caught a late lunch with the guys.”

  In reality, he couldn’t stop rehashing his run-in with Molly, wondering what he could have said differently. W
hile it was true he’d cut things off abruptly after that last date, it wasn’t out of callousness. It was because he wasn’t ready to have his heart trampled again so soon after the divorce, and he knew a rejection by Molly would do him in. Molly was like those mythical women he’d read about as a kid—maybe Calypso or Helen of Troy—and he was certain that when she turned her full attention on you, it would be so intoxicating you could never return to your old life.

  He redirected the conversation to safer ground—the logging business. “I figure I’ll take that job over on Ellison Mountain.”

  Dad took a sip of iced tea. “You sure? Might be dangerous. Some tall trees up that way.”

  “We’ve got the equipment and our guys are experienced. Only one I’d worry about is Trevor because he’s so young, and Brett keeps a close eye on him.”

  Mom returned to the table with a basket of rolls. “Fresh from the oven. Sorry it took a little longer to get those done inside.”

  Zane broke a roll open and applied a liberal pat of butter, his mom’s home cooking whetting his appetite. “They look great. How’s Basil?”

  He’d never been close with his brother, who was ten years his elder. Basil had lived in Maine for seven years, and in that time, Zane had only seen his brother’s wife twice.

  Mom frowned. “He’s afraid they’re going to downsize at work, so he’s job-hunting. Your father is trying to talk him into coming home and partnering with you in the business.”

  “Oh, really? Sure, that would be an option.” Zane tried to feign excitement. Basil knew next to nothing about logging, and he was the type who didn’t negotiate. It was his way or the highway.

  Dad stole a glance at Mom, then fixed Zane with a serious look. “I should tell you that Krista called. She’s worried that you might be under too much stress. I started thinking maybe Basil could handle some of your load. Besides, you always said you didn’t want an office job. You could be out in the woods, chopping with your men.”

  Zane pushed his empty plate back, irritated that Krista went behind his back. “I’m out enough to suit me.”

  Mom leaned closer and covered his hand with hers. “You’d tell us if you were having problems, wouldn’t you?”

  His lips twisted. It was clear that Krista had given his parents an earful, but he didn’t feel like chitchatting about his personal life. He began to gather dirty plates. “Lola might stay over Friday night, if that’s okay?”

  “Of course.” Mom’s concerned look was replaced with a smile of excitement. “You know she’s the joy of our lives. What’s going on Friday?”

  He turned from the dishwasher. He might as well be candid, since his parents would find out sooner or later. “I’m going out with Molly McClure again.”

  “That beautiful redhead?” Dad asked. “I wondered why you dropped her last year.”

  “John!” Mom nudged Dad’s elbow.

  “Well, I felt bad for her. The McClures are a good solid family. I had a lot of respect for Sean McClure.”

  “Sad he died so young.” Mom’s voice was subdued.

  Zane nodded, but was forced to stifle an inconvenient yawn.

  “You’re not getting enough sleep,” Mom scolded.

  It was the truth. Ever since he’d realized someone was following him, he’d been on edge. His emotions were like a grenade, and one real or perceived threat was all it would take to pull the pin.

  “I’m not,” he acknowledged. “I’m going to head back now. Thanks for the meal, Mom.”

  Zane’s rental cottage sat on the outskirts of the tiny town of Hemlock Creek. Although he didn’t have a view of his neighbor’s house, the fact he had a neighbor at all made him antsy. As he shoved his key in the door, he realized he hadn’t stopped scanning the perimeter of his house for anything amiss.

  And something was amiss.

  He straightened, hand instinctively resting on his Colt 1911. The twilight was falling fast, but he could tell his front window was barely cracked. He was sure he’d locked it in the morning—it was one of his rituals, securing everything before he walked out the door.

  Striding around the small front porch, he checked the gravel turnaround behind the house for another vehicle, but there was none.

  Wiping sweat that beaded his brow, he looked at the window again. It was flush to the sill—closed.

  He was seeing things.

  He was losing it.

  He forced himself to focus on something trivial. The pale blue paint chipping off the wooden steps. He needed to repaint. Maybe he’d pick some up tomorrow.

  Resisting the uncalled-for urge to pull his gun, he stepped to the door and unlocked it.

  He entered the living room and flipped on a light. After searching the open area, he did a quick sweep of the kitchen. Once he was satisfied the front rooms were empty, he turned to check the window. It was down completely.

  But it wasn’t locked.

  He slid his Colt out, on full alert. And not without reason, because a metal shower curtain hook shifted in his bathroom.

  Noiselessly edging toward the bathroom door, he used the toe of his boot to push it open. The camouflage curtain hung partially open, even though he’d pulled it closed after his last shower.

  At the sound of a movement nearby, he spun to face the intruder who must have hidden in the laundry basket cubbyhole under the bathroom shelves. The masked man loomed toward him and Zane caught sight of a long, serrated knife. He fired the same moment the man lunged for his gun hand, so his shot went wide.

  The edge of the knife caught the top of Zane’s hand and drew blood, but the stranger’s weapon hand had lost strength. Zane could see blood pooling near the man’s shoulder, so his bullet hadn’t been totally ineffective.

  Seeing his opportunity, Zane grabbed the stranger’s wrist and yanked him toward him, then brought his own elbow down into the crook of the man’s arm. The man screeched and his knife clattered to the floor. He tried to squirm away, but Zane had no intention of letting him escape. Here was proof positive that he wasn’t crazy, that someone had targeted him.

  Wrapping an arm around the man’s neck, Zane dragged him toward the bathroom door. Too late, he noticed the stranger pulling something from his belt with his left hand. He felt a sharp blade sliding across his stomach, and his grip loosened.

  Taking the split-second opportunity, the stranger broke free and staggered toward the front door. Clasping his shirt to his seeping stomach wound, Zane tried to catch up with him, but the man picked up speed and hurtled down the steps toward a silver car that had raced up the driveway. Weakening, Zane made it to the porch, but the car was already throwing gravel as it tore back toward the main road.

  He stumbled inside and managed to grab his phone before sinking into his faded couch. He dialed 9-1-1 and shakily explained his situation.

  He didn’t want to look directly at the bleeding gash for fear he might pass out. Grabbing the soft quilt his grandma had made, he whispered an apology to her before shoving it up against his stomach. At least his hand seemed to have stopped bleeding so he only had to focus on one injury.

  Adrenaline kept him wired until he heard the ambulance wailing up his driveway, then his eyelids flickered closed. Voices surrounded him and he felt himself being lifted onto a stretcher, but the only thought in his head was that he hadn’t called Lola today.

  Zane drifted in and out as his wounds were cleaned and stitched, rousing only when they moved him to a hospital bed. Mom’s face swam into focus, and she rushed to cover his bandaged hand with hers.

  “Oh, my dear, dear boy. Who did this to you? They said just a tiny bit deeper and that cut would’ve gone right into your stomach muscle.”

  Dad stepped closer, placing a hand on Mom’s shoulder. “Now, let’s not drown him with questions just yet.” Although Dad’s tone was teasing, Zane saw the relief in his gaze.

  “Break-in,” Zane croaked. One of the last things he’d noticed was his video game system, lying on the floor. His big-screen TV had
also been unplugged, as if they’d planned on taking those before he’d shown up and thwarted their plans.

  A burglary attempt seemed the most likely explanation. It probably had nothing to do with him personally, as he’d initially suspected. Yet who would be willing to kill for such mediocre plunder?

  “Did you see him?” Dad asked.

  Before he could answer, a uniformed police officer stepped into the room. “He’s talking?”

  Mom nodded.

  The cop held up a hand, as if to halt Zane from saying anything else. He looked at Zane’s parents. “I’ll need to ask him some questions. I’m sure you understand.”

  Mom’s brow crinkled and worry edged her tone. She gripped Zane’s hand protectively. “Are you up for that, sweetie?”

  Zane took in the tall cop’s serious blue gaze. The man was quiet but intimidating and built like he worked out daily.

  “Mom, I’m a grown man and a police interrogation isn’t going to hurt me. Thanks, but I’m okay.”

  The cop strode closer, flashing his badge. “Deputy Ace Calhoun, city police. Tell me what happened.”

  Zane liked the man’s easy manner and straightforward approach. He recounted the events of his evening, finishing with an apology that he never managed to tear the intruder’s mask off or get a license number. When he finished speaking, Deputy Calhoun rubbed his chin.

  “Just to clarify—you said someone tried to run you off the road this morning, but instead of reporting this event, you went straight to The Greenbrier to handle business for your logging company?”

  An uncomfortable silence fell over the room. Zane adjusted his thin sheet and blanket. Finally, he met the deputy’s scrutinizing gaze.

  “Yes, that’s what I’m saying.”

  The deputy didn’t smile. “You thought you could handle it.”

  “I guess so.”

  Mom interrupted, her cheeks pinked with pride. “Zane was a Marine, so he can handle most anything.”

  New respect flooded the deputy’s features. “Sorry to be so pointed, but we had an incident at The Greenbrier today. I’m just trying to see if these events are linked somehow.”