by Unknown
Brenda Huber
footprint?”
Cam remained silent and focused as he took a walk through the crime scene. His narrow-eyed stare followed the steady sweep of his flashlight beam.
Then, with the blinding kick of a sucker-punch to the gut, Red’s next words stopped Cam on a dime.
“You suppose this might have something to do with last summer?”
Cam’s alarmed gaze swung around to the young deputy. “What do you mean?”
Red’s eyes swept over the surrounding woods, as if he expected eavesdroppers to tumble from the treetops. “You know… Lori didn’t exactly live like a nun when she split with Steve last spring. She spent damned near all summer kickin’ her heels up with just about any man she could lay hands on.” Red’s troubled gaze dropped to the toes of his boots.
“Cam…”
Uneasy, Cam tilted his head, his brow creased.
A nasty taste crawled up the back of Cam’s throat as Red looked up at him from beneath lowered brows and admitted, “Cam, I should have said something before now. I should have told you that I…” He paused, swore beneath his breath. “I never told anyone. I didn’t figure people would approve if they heard she was steppin’ out with one of Sutter Hollow’s finest…”
Cam’s palms began sweating inside his latex gloves. His heart thumped just a little harder. “Look, Red—”
“No,” Red interrupted, holding his hand up. “Let me get this out. I know it was wrong. I must have been out of my mind. I knew about her and Austin. I knew I… I never—”
Lori and Austin?
Cam stuttered, “Austin? But I—”
“—never should have slept with her. She was a friend’s wife, damn it, even if they weren’t together 42
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at the time. Then they reconciled, and I couldn’t say anything—”
“What?” Cam stared at Red in open-mouthed shock. Red had been with Lori too? And Austin?
Cam knew he hadn’t been the only man to tangle the sheets with her last summer, but, good Lord, how many others had there been?
“I didn’t kill her, Cam. I swear I didn’t.” Red’s grief-filled eyes pleaded with Cam for understanding.
Slinging his head back on his shoulders, staring for a moment at the dusky sky, Cam drew a long breath. Letting it out on a long slow whistle, he straightened and crossed the clearing to stand at his deputy’s side. “Red—”
“Cam, I’m—”
“Will you just shut up for one damned minute?” He glared Red silent, then closed his eyes, forcing his nerves to level out. When he opened his eyes, Red stood before him with a hang-dogged expression.
At any moment, Cam half expected him to thrust both wrists out to be cuffed.
“I didn’t figure you killed her. And no, I didn’t know you’d been with her. Or Austin either, for that matter. Hell, Red…last summer… Shit.” Cam kicked at a small pile of leaves. “I was with her myself.
Once. I had too much to drink and… Well, it doesn’t matter. What matters is half the damned town was probably with her, but it won’t do any good to start pointing fingers.” Cam turned away from the raw, stunned disbelief etched on Red’s face. Cam had clearly tumbled from his pedestal. “We treat this crime scene just like any other. We do our jobs, and we find her killer.”
Silent and pensive, Red fell into step beside Cam as they resumed their sweep.
“When we finish up here, I want you to head back to the station. Take whatever evidence we have 43
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back to my office and lock the door. I don’t want any of this stuff compromised by curious hands. I’ll head over to the Watson place to talk with Steve. Write up your report. By then I should be back, and we can go through this stuff together.”
That prospect, in and of itself, left a cold ball of dread swimming in the pit of his stomach. Steve Watson’s moods ran the gamut from maudlin to lashing fury. His unpredictable moods had been one of the reasons for the split with Lori last summer, one among many. There was no telling how he’d take the news of his wife’s murder. Heaven help them all if he found out about the men she’d been sleeping with…including a sizable portion of the Fulwick County Sheriff’s Department by recent account.
Unable to stand the guilt in Red’s eyes for a second longer, unable to deal with his own remorse, Cam motioned toward the east. “You sweep that way. Don’t go farther than the Dutton barn, though.
Holler if you find anything…otherwise meet me back at the scene. Be careful.”
Nodding, Red set off as instructed. Then he stopped dead. “Shit, Cam…” The beam of his flashlight cut around to catch Cam dead in the eyes before he recalled himself and aimed the light toward the ground. “You don’t think Steve would’ve…”
Gritting his teeth with grim resignation, Cam returned to his work, but his words hung in the air between them, heavy with dismay. “As of right now, he’s at the top of the list of suspects.” 44
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Chapter 4
JJ bounced off the doorframe of the small utility room and lurched inside. As she skidded into the cold metal casing of the washing machine, tingling pain burst in her elbow, shot through her toes. The upright freezer loomed nearby, but there wasn’t enough space to squeeze between it and the wall. The wicker laundry basket in the corner offered no hope of concealment, and she wasn’t exactly a kid who could climb inside the dryer.
That left her three options…only three. The kitchen she’d just staggered through. Even now, his booted heels creaked over the old linoleum near the stove.
He was getting closer.
The basement door shot past her gaze, a blur without a second thought. Any idiot who’d ever watched a horror flick knew that path lead to certain, agonizing death. The squeaky floorboard near the sink gave beneath his weight. She could almost feel his frenzied breath on the back of her neck. On shaking legs, she edged toward the back stairwell leading to the second floor. If she made it upstairs, maybe she could get to the main staircase leading down to the front door, and then outside…
Creak, creak. Creak, creak. Creak, squish . Her eyelids sagged closed, and bile slammed into the back of the throat. Bloody footprints... Hysteria gurgled ever closer, filling her mind with vivid images. He’d track bloody footprints all over Sarah’s pine-scented, spotless kitchen floor.
JJ bolted upright on the sofa, clutching the 45
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cushion beneath her in one fist and her throat with the other. Her breath sawed in and out, her chest heaved. The darkened room spun before her blinking eyes, then righted itself. Where was she? How had she gotten here? She had to get away. She had to hide. Run, JJ. Run…
Halfway to the door, she tripped on a pile of dingy, lemon-scented rags, banging her shin on the stepstool. The bright slash of pain brought the room into crisp focus, snapping reality into place. She must have fallen asleep on the sofa when she’d sprawled to take a break. She was safe. She didn’t need to run. Not this time.
Still, it was next thing to impossible not to give in to instinct. Her hands trembled with the need to feel the cold bite of her car keys against her palm.
Drawing a shaky breath, she made her way to the kitchen. Jerking open the prehistoric refrigerator door, she thrust her arm inside, groping blindly, and yanked out a bottle of water. Fumbling the cap off, she put the bottle to her lips and guzzled.
The chilled water slid along her burning throat, dislodging the hot ball of terror on its way down.
When the bottle was empty, she crossed the room on quivering legs and tossed the bottle into the recycling bin beneath the sink. Turning the faucet on, she bent over the sink, using both hands to splash water onto her face, over and over, until the cold sting cleared away the last haze of panic.
Feeling infinitesimally better, JJ reached for the towel and blotted her face dry. Then something caught her eye. Whatever it was, it flashed and bobbed in the dark, out in the woods just past her back
yard. She went up on tiptoe and leaned over the sink, closer to the window, straining her eyes.
There it was again. And that glow farther off, it was…eerie.
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Like a freakin’ space ship had landed in the woods.
Oh, yeah, that was rational… not. Maybe instead of standing here, staring out the window, thinking about going out there to investigate, she ought to be dialing Dr. Greene. What would the good doctor have to say about aliens?
Have you been taking your medications, Jillian?
Well, that’d be a big hell no. She hadn’t been able to take another minute of pharmaceutically induced tranquility, and so she’d ditched the pills two months ago, bottle and all, and she hadn’t looked back once.
Chewing her bottom lip, JJ watched another, smaller light separate from the eerie glow, bobbing in a different direction. Dare she go out there? Or should she dial 911 and pray they didn’t haul her off to the nearest loony bin? One of those lights was coming closer, its arc slithering back and forth over the ground in slow, methodical patterns. Damn it.
Someone was out there, trespassing on her property.
Find your backbone, JJ, it’s around here somewhere.
Jerry is dead and buried.
Literally.
She was not a victim. Not anymore.
It was, in all likelihood, nothing more than some kids out searching for a good place to get a buzz on.
She rocked back on her heels and planted fists to hips. Well, not on her property. Narrowing her eyes, she dug through one drawer after another until she found the flashlight she’d stowed away earlier. At least she’d thought to replace the batteries this afternoon.
Glancing out the window, JJ bit down on her lower lip. The light was still there, still moving closer. It might just be kids, but she had no way of knowing that for sure. No. She’d rather be safe than 47
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sorry.
She went to the back door, stopping long enough to pull on a light jacket. With a spare moment’s hesitation, she squared her shoulders, and slipped down the back steps, around the side of the house, and across the yard. Her vehicle sat, cold and dark, in the night. Safety—protection—nestled in the glove box. Careful not to rattle the keys, she opened the door and snatched the gun from its hiding place.
The brush of cool metal against her skin bolstered her courage.
She was taking control of her life, wasn’t she? If this was where she had to start, then so be it.
Jerry’s dead. Jerry’s dead. Jerry’s dead.
She repeated the litany—over and over—as she tucked the gun into the back of her waistband.
It didn’t help much. ****
A muffled pop in the darkness somewhere to the west brought Cam’s palm to the butt of his gun in a patent move of pure instinct, though he didn’t draw.
Those same instincts that had him reaching for his gun—his survival instincts—also urged him to shift.
Primal instinct was harder to control than trained instinct. He crouched and froze, thumbing the switch to kill the power to his flashlight.
Straining to hear the slightest noise, attuned to the very shift of the wind, he crept forward on silent feet, relying now on his keener-than-your-average-human senses. His lungs burned, but he fought to keep his breathing slow and shallow. Someone was out there, slipping in and out of the shadows. He shoved his flashlight into his back pocket, freeing up one hand while he kept the other close to his gun.
Ready. With cautious steps, he eased around the thick trunk of a tree, slinking deeper into the night, peering into the shadows.
Slipping closer to becoming the predator he’d 48
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been born.
Snap. A low, muttered curse. A shadow wavered, moving closer.
He slipped back, pressing his spine against unyielding, rough bark. Drawing a measured, quiet breath, Cam tensed, poised to spring.
****
“Damn it,” JJ muttered beneath her breath as another twig snapped under her heel. She may as well have tramped out here with a full marching band for as much noise as she was making.
Holding her breath, she paused. When deafening silence met her ears, she moved forward.
The lights had disappeared completely. Holy crap.
Whoever’d been out here, they apparently suspected they were no longer alone. Damn it. She should have dialed 911.
JJ took another step forward and stopped. A chilly breeze stirred the loose tangles of hair against her neck, sending goose bumps scooting over her flesh and unease snaking down her spine. The night had been deceptive in the back yard. There, moonlight had taken the edge off fear. Here in the woods, the shadows were so deep, so dense she couldn’t see three feet in front of her face. Tree branches came alive, snagging at her jacket and tweaking her cheek with hungry, questing fingers.
They danced in the breeze, swaying and stretching into the night sky, like giant arms preparing to strike.
It was so very silent here. Deathly still. She’d expected some kind of noise, a rustle, a hoot, a symphony of crickets, or…or something. But there was nothing. And the silence hurt her ears.
JJ eased forward. Quietly. Gingerly. Shifting her weight, she put one foot after another, faster and faster. The toe of her boot caught in something solid, something that refused to budge. Her momentum 49
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carried her onward without her feet. She went sprawling, face first, with a soft whoosh of expelled breath into a thin scattering of leaves and twigs.
Damn it, could she be any more clumsy tonight?
Muttering foul curses beneath her breath, she swiftly rolled over, twisted around and picked herself up. Passing the flashlight from one hand to the other, she brushed her palms over her thighs, dislodging dirt and pieces of dead leaves.
Did something move? She swung to the right.
There? She wheeled to the left. No, just there? She dare not turn on her flashlight. It wouldn’t be wise to give away her location on the off chance whoever was out here had less than innocent intentions. Her nostrils flared, and she sucked in a sharp breath, her wide-eyed gaze darting this way and that.
The air was pure and layered here. The tang of pine and the clean wash of approaching rain hung in the air. Beneath that, honeysuckle and some nameless, cloying-scented flower perfumed the night. And beneath that layer hovered moldering grass and fallen, decomposing vegetation. If her nerves hadn’t been strung so tight, she might well have stopped where she was to drag in lungful after lungful of the heady stuff.
As it was, panic made it difficult to breathe.
A soft crackle nearby spun her on her heel. Her heart vaulted into her throat, and then hung there, thundering like a racecar, revved and ready to cut loose. She clutched the flashlight like a club, but, she refused to turn it on. She wouldn’t draw any more attention to herself than she already had. A shadow shifted, and her head whipped around. She reached for her gun. Panic surged through her. It was gone.
Oh God, it was gone. Where was it? Dare she drop to her knees and shuffle around in the leave trying to find it?
A soft shushing sound filtered closer. The sound 50
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of stirring leaves.
The instinct to cut and run swelled. Yeah, 911
sounded damned good right about now. She’d worry about finding her lost gun tomorrow. In the daylight.
Spinning on her heel, disoriented, she took a quick, measured step.
She smacked into a brick wall.
Or rather, the brick wall slammed into her. It flew through the night with a dark growl and the force of a freight train, knocking the breath from her lungs, slapping stars into her eyes. She hit the ground, hard, too stunned to move, with a terrifying weight planted firmly astride her. Panic, hysteria warred with angry incredulity. She’d survived Jerry only to come here—to this picturesque little community—to die?
Oh, unfair.
/>
Her heart slammed against her ribs, reminding her there was life in her still. She hadn’t gone down without a fight the last time. She sure as certain wasn’t going to go like a meek little lamb this time around either. Gun or no gun. Curling her fingers into claws, she flailed her arms and kicked with all her might. Thrashing and wiggling, clawing for her freedom, JJ snapped her teeth at anything unwise enough to get close to her face.
The dark shadow grunted as she connected a knee with a hard thigh. Large hands grabbed and grappled. A solid, heavy chest pressed into hers, and her wrists were pinned above her head in a viselike grip. Thrusting her head forward, she snapped her teeth again. This time she caught more than air. Her teeth clamped down hard, and through the cotton, she caught her attacker’s collarbone.
He jerked back leaving her with nothing but his shirt in her mouth. A deep voice barked with violent insult near her ear, “Son of a bitch!” An angry hand fisted in her hair, yanking her 51
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head down against the ground, and the hand pinning her wrists tightened, threatening her circulation. Threatening to crush bone. That rock solid chest crushed hers now, deliberately, restricting her very ability to breathe. A heavy leg flopped over her straining legs, and slid down, clamping one of them between hard thighs. Ragged breath rasped against her cheek. Sandpaper bristles on a hard jaw scraped her neck.
Then her assailant’s ragged breathing went utterly silent, just for a sliver of a moment.
His chest expanded against her as he buried his nose in the side of her neck, just below her earlobe.
Was he smelling her? His entire body went rigid.
The low rumble began deep in his chest, vibrating its way up until it escaped him in a wary growl. His nose nuzzled her flesh a second time, and he drew another impossibly deep breath. The ominous rumble altered, shifted, slid into a definitive purr of approval, and she shivered beneath him.