Wolf at the Door: A Novel of Suspense

by JD Salyers

  The side of his skull was already swelling, and she thought she heard him groan a little, but she didn't wait around to find out. She dropped the crowbar, grabbed the tractor's steering wheel and pulled herself up and over, dropping to the other side on wobbly knees. Then she ran for the house, still fighting nausea.

  She was on the porch, pushing open the door, when she heard his struggling, rasping voice yell, “Hey! Hey, you!”

  She let out a scream and slammed the door behind her.

  Locks. She needed to lock everything. The back door had two - the regular knob lock and the dead bolt. The front door had four - two deadbolts for good measure and a slider over the regular lock. She was sucking in air, tripping over the dogs, and sobbing, hard enough that her chest hurt.

  But then she could stop - the dogs were here, the guns were here, and there was no noise from Abel outside.

  She sank to the floor in front of the fireplace and let the dogs press against her. Their bodies warmed her and their rough doggy kisses were a comfort. Ethan was still out there, but she couldn't do anything about that right now, no matter how guilty she felt about it. She just had to hope that the smell of Abel would keep away the coyotes and any other scavenging critters.

  Low thumps made her squeak again. Burns and Retro both turned and growled at the back door. Their fur rose high on their backs. Burns took a step in that direction, but she tucked her fingers into his collar to hold him there with her. She didn't want him to step away.

  All three of them jumped when Abel yelled, “Hey, bitch!” and pounded hard on the door. Boom, boom. Twice. Then silence.

  She held her breath and tried to listen.

  The silence was almost worse than the noise, because it meant she didn't know where he was, or what he might be doing. She would have thought that a crowbar would have knocked him out for longer, but apparently that article about drunks was true.

  She got up and ran to yank the curtains in the room closed. At every window, she took the half-second to check the lock - a small half-moon shaped contraption that closed easily. The dogs stayed right with her, even though she was only moving a few feet at a time. She practically waded through them to get from window to window, stressing her tired muscles that much more.

  She thought about him shooting through the glass, and realized that he had come after her with both hands. Where had his gun gone? Had he ever had one? Her mind reeled unable to remember. Hadn’t he been aiming the gun at the dog? Had her eyes tricked her? Maybe he had a gun and lost it. As long as he wasn't armed, she had a chance.

  The cabin was well-built, but no structure could keep a man out if he really wanted to come inside. There was always a way. It was her job to think faster than Abel and bar those ways.

  Reflexively, she snatched up the phone as she made her way past the sofa and tried for a dial tone, but it was still sickeningly dead. How could she -.

  The lights went out. One of the dogs whined. The light on the phone in her hand went out.

  Quinn froze. Her skin tingled and she swallowed a whimper. She sucked in a very quiet, very deep breath, then let it out. “OK,” she whispered. “OK. Now what?”

  Had the storm snapped a line somewhere? It happened fairly often here, once a week if the weather was particularly bad. The electric company usually came and fixed it within a couple of hours. That could mean help was on the way.

  Or had Abel cut the lights somehow?

  She started to panic, but then forced it back. First things first.

  The breaker box was in the master bedroom, behind the door. “Retro,” she half-whispered. He snuffled and came to bump against her leg. She took his collar and half led, half leaned on him to get to the bedroom. She found the little latch and clicked it open. She shielded the flashlight with her hand and aimed it at the breakers. They were all lined up, just as they should be, so it wasn't a simple trip.

  That narrowed things down a little. Either the electric went out as it usually did, or Abel was messing with the box outside. She somehow doubted that he was that smart, or that brave. He was just a drunk. Right?

  If it wasn't Abel that was good news. She just needed to keep him out, then watch for the electric truck, and she was saved.

  She clicked the breaker box closed again and walked around the bed to lock that window and close the curtains.

  A soft thump from somewhere near the other end of the house startled her. Retro let out a gruff bark. On the other end of the house, Burns went crazy, barking and digging at the front door. She could hear his claws making mincemeat of the wood.

  She started to call out to him, then realized that if she did, Abel would know her exact location in the house. Instead, she let out a whistle.

  She heard him stop digging, heard his claws on the kitchen floor as he made his way to her. He was still growling, but he came.

  Something heavy hit the front door. Quinn bit the inside of her lip and listened.

  All of this uncertainty was wearing at her nerves. She was aching with sustained tension and her stomach roiled with worry. She needed help, and there was no way to get it.

  She went to the bed and sat down, staring at nothing while she tried to think. What could she do right here and right now to solve this problem?

  A million things went through her mind, and most of them were ridiculous. She could offer Abel money to go away - guys like that loved money - but she doubted that would work right now. He wanted something else. She could scream at him, shoot at him, or set the dogs on him....

  Wait a minute. Burns was ready to tear the guy limb from limb - why didn't she let him? That's why they bought the dogs, wasn't it?

  But if Burns got hurt, she'd feel guilty for the rest of her life.

  Then again, if Abel got in here, her life wouldn't be very long, would it? She remembered something that Ethan had told her once. It had been a beautiful day in December, cold but sunny. She'd been sitting on the porch, watching Ethan work with Retro. He would give a variety of commands in rapid fire fashion, and the dog jumped into action, reacting and moving and doing everything he was told. He was all quick and precise, like a well-designed machine. When it was over Ethan, his cheeks red but bunched into a grin, had given Quinn a delighted thumbs up. “I think he's got it,” he yelled from the yard.

  Later, when Ethan had given Retro his treats and penned him, he came up onto the porch to join Quinn.

  “How does he respond so perfectly?” she asked, still in awe at the dog-plus-man show she'd just seen.

  “He loves it.” Ethan had taken her hand. “Did you see how excited he acted? Dogs are happiest when they're working. When they're doing what they are trained to do, and doing it well.”

  That had been a good day, the kind of day she would remember forever. Ethan had been right - Retro was never so happy as when he was doing something. Burns either. She didn't know why that was, but she had seen the truth of it that day, and every day she went to watch them work. They were at their happiest after a good, strong workout. Like true soldiers.

  She sank to her knees and gave Burns a hug. His thick neck muscles were taut against her arms. He gave her an absent-minded lick on the ear, then went back to staring down the hall, toward the front door.

  Should she let both dogs out?

  No, she decided, almost without thinking about it. No. She would be terrified without one of them in here with her, and Burns was the more aggressive of the two. Ethan had always warned her against spoiling Retro too often, but she hadn't paid attention. Not that he wouldn't do the job, he was just more willing to be swayed with a treat or a chance to play.

  “Burns,” she whispered, running his soft ears through her fingers. The heat from his body felt good against her hands. “Buddy, I need you to work now, all right?

  Burns whined, trying to divide his attention between her and the rest of the house.

  “I need you to get rid of this guy. He's going to hurt us.” She realized that she could be sending the dog into danger, bu
t deep down, she hoped that the sight of those teeth would send Abel Welch running for his life.

  Chapter Nine

  Abel Welch didn't feel the cold. He barely felt the side of the house when he bounced off it to make his way around to the front door. The snow was breaking his stride, making him push through with every step. He cursed at it silently, but kept kicking it out of the way until he got to the front steps.

  The man lying in the snow beside them gave him pause. He spent a good bit of time staring down at Ethan Galloway's body, waiting for him to get up. When he didn't, Abel spent more time trying to figure out if this was real at all. Maybe it was a decoy, as if she could scare him away with a toy.

  He toed the head of the dead guy. It flopped over some, enough that Abel could see the damage done by the rifle.

  Speaking of which...he bent to get a closer look. There was a rifle, laying just under the dead man's shoulder, as if he'd rolled on it in his sleep. Abel used his foot to roll the man's body and picked up the weapon. It was as real as the corpse He grinned at it and held it up to the small amount of light from the dusk to dawn in the yard.

  Then he checked the chamber. It wasn't loaded. Dude had probably just brought enough bullets to off himself, and that was it.

  That made him frown. He swayed a little and leaned against the side of the house, thinking. The snow blew into his face and he swiped it away impatiently.

  What could he do with an empty rifle to get her out here?

  It was then that another thought crossed his mind. What if the dead dude hadn't offed himself? What if little miss crowbar in there did it? What if she was on her way to bury him when Abel interrupted her?

  It didn't really matter, he supposed. The rifle was out here with him now, wasn't it? That brought the grin back for a second, until he realized that a home with a gun usually had several more stashed away. It would be good to assume that she was armed in there.

  So why hadn't she shot him yet? She had all the advantages - sight, sound, time to aim. What was stopping her, other than that most important of all the facts - women were pussies?

  He chuckled at that, which made him sway so hard that he almost fell on top of the dead guy before he managed to catch himself with a hand on the siding.

  Abel wasn't known for his suave abilities with the ladies. He wasn't actually known for much, to be honest, except small time in the local lock-up and a few dalliances with the wives of his friends. He came from the wrong side of everything - wrong neighborhood, wrong education, wrong upbringing. He didn't much care, either, as long as he had a roof over his head and some sweet whiskey to warm his bones. Thanks to Patty's stupid fool heart, he had both.

  Rick had already tried to kick him out twice, but Patty, a nursing assistant at the senior home, had stepped in both times to stop that shit from happening. It was too cold, she'd told her husband, to let a man freeze. It didn't hurt for Abel to stay here.

  Except that, yeah, it had hurt, hadn't it? Ricky-boy had tried this morning to kick old Abel out of the house, since Patty was off to work. But that hadn't been in the cards for Rick. No, sir. In fact, Abel had spilled Ricky-boy's whole deck. Now Patty's husband was probably tangled pretty well in the brush downriver, hidden pretty good. The current had swiped him right away. Easy as pie. It would be awhile before anybody found him.

  At first, after he had used Ricky's own hunting knife to cut his throat, Abel had figured on waiting around for Patty. When she got home there'd most likely be hell to pay, but that was all right. His own wife Annabelle had tried that shit, and he'd shut her down, back in the day. It wasn't that hard - men were bigger and stronger for a reason, weren't they? Annabelle had run off to mama with three cracked ribs, two black eyes, and a swollen wrist, but she had run, and Abel really hadn't thought she was worth chasing.

  Of course, mama was in Richmond, about three hundred miles away, so Patty wouldn't know this. Good thing, too, or her heart might have listened to Ricky's red flags. Now, Patty was the proud owner of fifteen river front acres and no husband. Abel had already decided – he would pat her on the back and help her mourn the loss, but then he'd take Rick's place. It was a good place, too. Patty didn't even make Ricky work. All in good time. Patty would see how it was meant to be, how much better Abel was than Rick. He was bigger, stronger, and more willing to protect what was his, for starters. Right now, he considered Patty, her house, and her land all his. There for the taking. He chuckled to himself, thinking how easy it was when a man was willing to do what it took.

  In the end, she would thank him. He'd raise those boys right and raise the girl to be a proper woman. She would be proud of her kids when he was done with them.

  But now this new opportunity had fallen into his lap, hadn't it? This woman didn't have kids to worry about, far as he could see. She didn't have a beat up old rustbucket in the driveway or - evidently - a husband to worry about. Abel glanced down at Ethan Galloway and snorted. Nope. This gal had taken care of the old man herself. That was the kind of woman Abel really needed.

  And now he could have it, if he played his cards right.

  Course, that would leave poor Patty all alone down there by the river, wouldn't it? A waste. Maybe Killer Lady up here on the mountain would be willing to share.

  Maybe it didn't matter. He'd share if he damned well felt like it.

  That got another chuckle out of Abel and this time when he started swaying, he sat down hard on the next-to-bottom step with a grunt. He laughed anyway. Life was suddenly looking pretty damned good from here.

  In the middle of imagining his new status, Abel happened to glance down at the dead dude, and something occurred to him. Setting the rifle aside, he dropped off the step to his knees on the wet snow and started going through Ethan Galloway's pockets, a look of determined confusion on his face.

  When he got to the blood-soaked front pocket of the dead man's jeans, the confusion cleared and the gruff grin came back. He pulled out a handful of shells and laughed out loud.

  Chapter Ten

  She gave Burns a final kiss, stood up, and, holding tightly to his collar, tiptoed to the back door in the hall. Slowly, wincing at every little sound, she disabled the locks.

  If she was right, Abel would still be at the front door, and he couldn't see her release the dog. A blast of freezing air hit her face when she peeked out. There was no sound or movement at the back of the house. The barn lights were still on, lighting up the snow with a warm yellow glow. It might have been festive under better circumstances, but right now it was just another threat. Less light meant that Abel couldn't see any movement, either.

  It didn't matter - she certainly wasn't about to risk her life to turn out the barn lights.

  She released Burns's collar and started to speak the word Ethan had trained n him so well. “Jump” was the command he had given them, and it was the one she knew Burns would respond to immediately.

  But when she turned loose of his collar, no words were necessary. He was straining against her hold anyway, so when she opened the door he was gone before the word could leave her mouth. He jumped from the back porch - a drop of at least three feet, into two feet of snow. Only his head, tail and the top of his back were visible, and then he was gone, around the side of the house.

  She slammed the door again, locked the locks, and listened for...anything,

  The waiting, holding her breath, was as scary as the noise. What was Burns doing?

  Something slammed against the front door and seemed to jar the whole house. Burns barked.

  That set Retro off. He tore through the house to the front door before she could stop him. When she caught up, he was barking hard enough to crack his ribs, it seemed, and glaring at the front door. When he glanced back at her, the look in his eyes told her to hurry up, to open it, but she didn't dare. Not until she was sure Abel was out of commission.

  She called Retro to her side and stood in the center of the dark living room, trying to think, but that was nearly impossible. All
she could focus on was Burns and the growling, barking struggle going on outside. Something slammed against that end of the house. A curse rang through the air. She made out what sounded like scuffling - or scraping, as if something was being dragged across the porch floorboards. She cringed when a sharp scream cut the air.

  Retro pressed against her leg, hard enough to knock her over if she didn't steady herself against Ethan's big recliner. He growled low in his throat, and the fur on his back was bristling under her palm. He wouldn't take his eyes off the front door, not even when she spoke his name.

  Should she have let him out, too? Was she wrong to send Burns out alone? He was the stronger and more protective of the two, but was that enough? The nails of her free hand bit into her palms and her heartbeat thumped in her ears.

  Good or bad, it was too late to call back the decision.

  Think, Quinn. You need to think. What next? She started toward the window in the front, but then something slammed against the front door. Another bout of cursing and then she heard Abel yell her name.

  She jumped, nearly biting her tongue. How had he known her name? She knew she hadn't given it to him. She doubted that his hosts even knew it, but she supposed that was possible. Had Ethan ever spoken to this man? Maybe ran across him in the woods? Maybe they chatted for a while, the way people around here did, even if they didn't know each other at all.

  She'd always considered that dimension of small town life a little creepy, but Ethan considered it charming. Of course he would - he loved people and never met a stranger, as his dad said so often.

  Well, she had, and this Abel character was stranger than most. It felt like he came out of nowhere, at the worst moment possible. Any other time, he would have been one of those friendly helpful country folks that Ethan liked so much. This time, though, when she was at her most vulnerable, the Universe sent her a Catch.

  She made her way back to the bedroom, to the gun cabinet. Retro had stayed behind, frozen in front of the door, baring his teeth like he could rip through the wood with his will alone.