0968348001325302640 brenda huber shadows

by Unknown

  Shadows

  to the stairs in the hallway.

  JJ’s skin crawled at the very idea, but she forced herself to ascend them. Déjà vu was a sticky poison, damned near paralyzing, and she couldn’t quite shake free of it.

  She had to hide. At this point, every one of the downstairs rooms held potential danger. She had nowhere to go…nowhere but up. Remembering the large chest of drawers in the second bedroom on the left, she scrabbled up the stairs, skidded inside, and dragged the door closed as quietly as possible. After pushing the old lock below the doorknob into place, she rushed to the side of the chest, pushing and shoving with every ounce of adrenaline coursing in her hypothermic veins. At last, with the chest lodged in place, JJ crouched in the dark on the far side of the bed and flipped the phone open, blindly jabbing at numbers. Her fingers were trembling with such force, though, that she punched the eight instead of the nine. Cursing, she started over.

  The call took an eon to connect. She sobbed aloud when a cool female voice vibrated through the line. “911…do you have an emergency?”

  “Help me.” Her hoarse croak ended on a humiliating sob. She swiped at a damp cheek, sagging against the side of the mattress. Falling apart now wouldn’t help.

  “Ma’am, you have to tell me what’s wrong,” the confident, soothing voice advised. “Are you injured?”

  “Yes—no.” The air was like soup—like stew—

  and she couldn’t draw enough in to make her lungs work properly. “No, no. I’m not hurt.”

  “Has there been an accident?” The voice was patient, reassuring. The clacking of computer keys in the background settled JJ’s nerves, somewhat.

  The dispatcher needed facts, information. She had to keep her head.

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  “No. My name is JJ Frost. I live at 123 Shady Lane in Sutter Hollow,” she stammered. Good. At least if he killed her now, they’d know where to look for the body.

  Shaking her head at her own morbidity, JJ

  pushed on, “There was a strange light in the woods behind my house.” Oh yeah, that sounded sane. Now they were going to think she was calling to report a UFO. Instead of sending the cops, they’d be radioing the little men in white lab coats for a straightjacket.

  “I…I went out to look around, and a man…jumped me. He knocked me down, but I…I managed to get away.”

  “Are you inside your home now, ma’am?” The clacking increased in speed. “Are you alone in the house?”

  “Yes, I’m inside. But all the windows are open downstairs,” she rushed to explain. “I…I think I’m alone, but…I don’t know for sure. He could have…climbed inside.”

  “Okay, ma’am. This is what I want you to do.

  Can you stay on the line and still make it into a closet or a room that you can hide, somewhere you can barricade yourself inside?”

  “Yes,” JJ mumbled, letting out a ragged breath.

  “I’m already in a second floor bedroom. I shoved the chest of drawers in front of the door.”

  “Good, that’s very good. Okay. Stay on the line with me, ma’am. It’s important that you stay calm,” the voice cajoled. “We have a unit nearby. I’m sending an officer over right now.” The dispatcher’s voice drifted away from the phone, began rattling codes and JJ’s address in a level, professional tone. The scratchy response of a police radio replied in the distance, and the female voice came back to JJ. “Do you have a weapon, ma’am? It’s important that you do not use it on the responding officer by accident.” 64

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  “Pepper spray. I have pep—”

  A crash from below, the reverberating clang of metal against the hardwood floor, cut her words off on a sharp hiss. Her startled gaze flew to the door as she edged the top half of her face up over the side of the mattress.

  “Ma’am? Are you still there, ma’am?”

  “Yes. I… Oh, no…” She tamped down on the fierce urge to curl up into a ball and sob. “He’s inside. I think he’s…inside the house. Something crashed…down there. Oh, shit… He’s armed. In the woods…he had a gun.”

  The voice drifted away to the dispatch mike to report the latest development to the responding unit, but JJ couldn’t make sense of the words. He was inside the house. He’d kill her and be gone before help arrived. A broken sob clogged her throat. Then a wild swirl of red and blue burst across the walls, and JJ’s forehead dropped to the bed.

  “Ma’am, the officer is on the scene now. Where are you?”

  “Second floor bedroom…on the left,” JJ

  responded without conscious thought. Rolling waves of relief sucked the last of her strength from her.

  The voice transmitted her location to the deputy.

  “I’ll wait with you, ma’am, while he searches the house. Stay on the line with me, can you do that?” JJ mumbled what she hoped would pass for a positive response, her relief making coherent speech next thing to impossible. The next several minutes crawled by. A creak on the stairs lifted the fine hairs on the back of her neck. A door opened and closed nearby, and her stomach clutched. Then another and another. The scratchy radio echoed over the phone line. “Ma’am,” the dispatcher’s voice broke the silence. “The officer is on the second floor with you.

  The house is secure, but I’ll stay on the line until you 65

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  have visual confirmation of the officer. It’s safe to open the door now.”

  “Miss Frost,” a deep male voice called out from the other side of the door. “I’m Deputy Austin Perry with the Fulwick County Sheriff’s Department. Are you all right, ma’am?”

  “Okay,” she mumbled to the dispatcher, pushing to her feet. “I’m here,” she croaked.

  Her knees wobbled, and she steadied herself against the bed for a moment. On shaking legs, she crossed to the chest and braced her back against it, shoving for all she was worth. Wood grated on wood and the chest gave way with groaning reluctance.

  Unable to force any more words through her dry throat, she fumbled with the lock and opened the door.

  Light flooded into the room from the hallway, and she blinked, squinting at the man standing before her. He was tall and spindly, with wisps of silver streaked through his dark hair. The badge pinned to his uniform brought a surge of tears to her eyes. She sagged against the doorjamb. Her gaze swept over the hallway before catching on the small bundle he cradled in the crook of his arm.

  Remembering the dispatcher, she pressed the phone to her ear. “I see him. Thank you.” Once dispatch acknowledged her words, she snapped the phone closed, only now aware that the fingers of the hand holding the pepper spray had cramped so tight she wasn’t sure she could release the can.

  “Ma’am, I found your noisemaker,” the deputy assured her, holding his bundle of gray fluff up for her inspection. To his credit, he held the smile in his kind brown eyes locked firmly away. “I’m assuming this little critter don’t belong to you?” Straightening, JJ’s mouth fell open in surprise.

  The fluffy gray shape shifted in his hands. A tiny 66

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  nose poked out and sniffed the air. The animal in question peered at her with unmistakable curiosity through a white-ringed black mask.

  “A raccoon…” A raccoon? Holy crap, she was an idiot.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he responded. “A young one, barely weaned, I’d guess. Musta climbed in through a window. His mama’s probably lookin’ all over for him. You’re gonna want to get yourself some screens if you’re gonna leave the windows open all the time, ma’am.”

  No shit, Sherlock.

  JJ caught herself before she opened her mouth, or rolled her eyes, but the thought was there all the same. She stepped out into the hall, the raccoon forgotten. “There was a man, out in the woods.” Her eyes flew to the officer’s face, gauging his reaction.

  After the whole raccoon thing, he probably thought she was some delusional crackpot. “I know who it was. I’ve seen him in
the diner. I can give you a description.”

  “How about we head down to the kitchen? If you don’t mind my saying so, Miss Frost, you look like you could use a good stiff drink.” Then he paused, his eyes rounding as if he’d made some tactical error, and he mumbled, “Ah, tea, or…or something. I can take your statement there.”

  Nodding, she led the way down to the kitchen.

  The deputy was right. She did need a drink. Tea sounded divine right about now. She’d use it as a chaser for the Cuervo. But then she remembered there wasn’t any Cuervo in the house. Or Jack, or Jim, or Captain. Not unless the old lady had a stash the grandkids hadn’t found.

  Unfortunately, she hadn’t found it either. Not that it would have done her much good. She’d tried that route once before, just after Sarah’s murder.

  She’d learned—the hard way—she didn’t have the 67

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  stomach for oblivion via liquor. Every time she had more than a drink or two, she was immediately ill.

  JJ let out an aggrieved sigh. Tea it was…straight up. The mud had begun drying in her hair, plastering her clothing to her skin. Muscles, already stiff and sore from her efforts with the house, began to protest in earnest. She wouldn’t be the least surprised, once she stripped down later, if she had one big, long bruise from hip to shoulder.

  Just as JJ lifted the teakettle, the back door rattled beneath the weight of an angry fist. She jumped, her heart screeched to a halt, and the kettle clattered to the floor. Drawing an unsteady breath, she chastised herself for her reaction. Her attacker was hardly likely to come knocking on her door. Yet her hands still shook as she retrieved the kettle.

  “That’s probably Red…ah, Deputy Thorpe,” her companion remarked in reassuring tones. “He was investigating a…ah… Ah, he was nearby. I’m sure he’s just checking in on the radio call since he was so close.” Deputy Perry slipped from the kitchen to answer the summons at the back door.

  JJ filled the teapot and returned it to the burner as male voices spoke in hushed tones on her back porch. A shuffle of footsteps moved toward the kitchen, and JJ glanced at the teapot with sudden uncertainty. Maybe she should be making coffee instead. Cops drank coffee, didn’t they? What did a little caffeine really matter to her anyway? It wasn’t as if sleep held any appeal to her. Ever again.

  Shrugging, she set the full kettle on the stovetop and returned to the table on liquid legs. Lowering herself to one of the kitchen chairs, she glanced to the door as the deputy stepped back inside the room.

  Close on his heels was another officer in uniform.

  She didn’t have to wonder long why he carried the name Red. His hair was close cropped, and red as a 68

  Shadows

  fire engine. He was young and well built, but not so tall she could miss the man behind him.

  She shot from the chair, vibrating with livid indignation as the three men filed into the room.

  What in the hell was wrong with these deputies?

  They hadn’t even put the bastard in cuffs yet. She was so stunned, so angry she couldn’t speak.

  “Thanks for taking the call tonight, Austin,” her attacker addressed Deputy Perry, though his fulminous emerald eyes never left hers. “If you want to go on back to the station now, we can take it from here. Take care of the coon on your way.” She gaped in astonishment as the deputy nodded, assured her she was in good hands, and shuffled out the door with a lazy yawn, the raccoon tucked securely beneath his arm like a football. She couldn’t believe her eyes. What kind of law enforcement did they have around here? Why were they allowing the criminal to run the show? Damn it, what was going on?

  His cold emerald stare drilled clean through her, and she shrank back despite her resolve not to cower. His voice dipped another degree…or ten, every bit as chilling as his stare. “Have a seat, Miss Frost.”

  JJ remained on her feet, her chin jutting stubbornly. She shot a wide-eyed stare to the remaining deputy, jabbed a finger in the handyman’s direction, and demanded, “Get him out of my house and put him in a cell where he belongs.”

  “Now, just hold on a minute,” the young deputy coaxed, spreading his hands, palms out. “I think it’d be best if we all just sit down and talk this out.”

  “The hell I will,” she exploded. “That man attacked me. He knocked me down and held be against my will. It’s your duty to arrest him, officer.” The handyman rocked back on his heels, crossed his arms over his chest, and narrowed distinctly 69

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  unfriendly eyes at her. The same mud covering her backside coated the entire left side of his body, both forearms, and both his knees. A smudge of blue was beginning to form high on his cheek, just beneath his left eye. She took small comfort in that. At least he’d received some punishment for his crimes, as it didn’t appear the law around here intended to dole out any.

  The deputy motioned her to take her seat. Hell would freeze over before she sat down to tea with this jerk. “Now, Miss Frost—”

  “JJ,” she corrected out of hand, all the while glaring at her assailant.

  “JJ,” the deputy obliged her. “There’s been a mistake made here tonight. Cam—”

  “You’re damned right there’s been a mistake made,” she interjected with enough heat to steam the faded wallpaper clean off the walls. “The mistake is yours if you think for one damn minute I’m just gonna let this go because he’s one of the good old boys.”

  She paused to draw breath, but before she could comment further, the infernally sexy handyman stalked forward, stopping mere inches from her. Had she been able to draw a deep breath, her breasts would have pushed against his chest. As it was, she had to tilt her head back—way back—in order to maintain eye contact. She scooted back a step, purely out of self-preservation, halting when the back of her knee connected with the seat of the chair. Her chin thrust up a notch. She wouldn’t cower to him. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

  The deputy didn’t move a muscle, didn’t even blink. Lot of help he was. Or was that the point?

  Was he here to help with the clean up? Two shovels dug a hole faster than one did.

  Oh, Lord, what had she gotten herself into?

  He towered over her, glaring down at her with glittering, entrancing eyes. The muscle in his jaw 70

  Shadows

  jumped with a steady beat. With studied deliberation, the man reached behind his back and drew forth a slim, black leather wallet. Flipping the leather open, his blistering eyes locked on hers, he slapped the wallet onto the table with enough force to send the small centerpiece dancing. Furious emerald pierced clear through to the back of her skull, challenging her to look away. Forcing a cautious swallow, she lowered her gaze to his hand where it rested on the table. Her eyes just about rolled out of her head when he lifted his hand away to reveal his identification badge.

  Holy crap.

  It was a good thing she was so close to a chair, because her knees buckled without warning.

  Dropping to the seat, she closed her eyes and groaned aloud. Her shoulders sagged. Dragging air into her lungs, she turned back to face him and opened her eyes, intent on offering embarrassed apologies. He hadn’t moved back even half a step, and his fly was now at eye level. Instant heat burst in her face as that moment she’d lain beneath him, enthralled by the irrefutable desire on his face—with his unmistakable erection pressed hard against her—flooded her mind.

  He must have remembered too, because he took a hasty step back. Hot color rose in his cheeks as well. Then again, maybe he was remembering her parting shot before she’d left him lying in the mud, and sought to avoid more of the same.

  “Miss Frost…JJ.” Deputy Thorpe’s voice rang hollowly in her ears as the room spun. “Allow me to introduce…Sheriff Cameron Walker.” 71

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  Chapter 6

  The way she dropped onto her chair gave him no small amount of satisfaction. Finally, she’d shut up long enough for him to get a word in
edgewise.

  However, when her eyes popped open and leveled on points south of his belt—the way her face flamed with instant awareness—his uninhibited reaction to her in the woods came back to haunt him, and he backpedaled. Never before had he behaved so unprofessionally. Damn it, he’d been ready to kiss her senseless—and a whole hell of a lot more, truth be told—like some horny teenager his first time out of the starting gates.

  Like a Werewolf who’d found his mate, a niggling, unwanted voice in the back of his head chimed in.

  And with crime-scene tape still fluttering from the trees where a body had been found just a couple hundred yards away. Shit, what the hell had possessed him?

  Even now, as angry as he was with her—as badly as his groin still throbbed from her cruel blow—he wanted her still. And not just with an ordinary, boy-meets-pretty-girl want. No, this was a pagan, snapping-at-the-leashes-of-restraint need.

  She was a stranger—prickly as the back end of a porcupine—but, Lord Almighty, was she sexy…and soft in all the right places.

  She’d kneed him in the balls and walloped him a good one, damn it.

  And still, he wanted the hell out of her.

  Not freakin’ cool, Cam. Not cool at all.

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  She was covered in damp forest floor and grungy as a person could be. Her attitude rubbed him raw.

  But the fire in her eyes provoked him, and he’d never seen anyone so drop-dead beautiful. Vivid images slammed through him like another knee to the groin. It was all too easy to picture himself scooping her up in his arms and carrying her off to the nearest shower, where he’d strip her down and…

  Sweat beaded on his brow before he could cut the vision short.

  Shit. Get a grip, Cam.

  He shook his head and retreated to drop onto another kitchen chair, praying she hadn’t noticed the significant tightening in his jeans. The full length of the table rested between them like a defensive barrier, but, as he caught her stunned gaze, that flimsy obstacle didn’t seem near formidable enough. Something about her called to him on an elemental level. Primal. Feral. Damned if he knew what it was.