Wolf at the Door: A Novel of Suspense

by JD Salyers

  The gun cabinet - a safe, really - was locked tight. She remembered Ethan saying that the gun cabinet would be better in the bedroom for another reason, too. He'd won the argument handily by explaining that if someone broke in during the night, he wanted those guns as close to him as possible. “It just makes sense,” he explained patiently, in that way of his. “Do you want them to find the guns on the way to our room?”

  She reluctantly agreed, but she still hated it. Now, she was kind of glad it was back here, away from the drama taking place at the front of the house. Burns was still on the attack, and Abel was apparently still holding his own. She felt the urge to hurry, though. Burns wasn't going to be able to fight Abel off indefinitely. He may even need her help right now.

  She got to the bedroom door and stopped. The key. Ethan kept it on the nightstand on his side of the bed - toward the window, another safety measure. She hurried around the foot of the bed and reached for the lamp, then stopped herself. The last thing she needed was to give Abel such a clear target. Instead, she felt underneath, patting with her palm all around the surface. It should be right here.

  She checked again. The key was gone. She dropped to her knees, just in case it had been knocked to the floor, but running her hands over the carpet turned up no cold metal, rubber duck keychain. She could see it in her mind's eye. Right here. Since they had moved in, it had always been right here...

  She stood up again and opened the drawer. It must have fallen in with Ethan's socks. The drawer was a mess - he thought folding socks was the biggest waste of time ever, and he just stuffed them into balls - so she started grabbing the balls and tossing them onto the bed to her right. As she emptied the drawer, she felt along the corners and way in the back, although how the key would have gotten there she didn't know.

  When the drawer was empty and she still hadn't found it, she straightened up. Where else...?

  Under the bed! Maybe Ethan knocked it off the table and didn't notice. Maybe he kicked it under the bed...She dropped to her knees again and reached as far as she could, her biceps pressing against the cold metal frame. Patting, patting...she almost screamed when her fingers touched rubber.

  She caught the flat rubber duck-shaped ring and pulled it out, but already her heart was sinking. It was too light. She felt where the little chain attached, felt the ring, and then she felt it was empty.

  That wasn't possible. The key was always here. Ethan had showed it to her every day for a week when they first moved in - “It's right here, Quinn. Don't forget.” She had come to the side of the bed and touched it, every time, to make him happy. She was glad he wanted to protect her, glad he wanted her to know.

  He had promised to teach her more about the guns this coming spring, and she'd been glad about that, too. It was his way of caring. He'd wanted to start earlier, before hunting season, but it was too cold out -.

  Hunting season. Just rabbits and squirrels this time of year, and Ethan wasn't much of a hunter, but he would have taken a gun into the woods with him. He always took a gun. She imagined him getting ready in the mornings. Putting on his coat and hat, walking through the hall to the bedroom in his sock feet, and getting a weapon from the gun safe. Sometimes it was a shotgun, sometimes a rifle. Once in a while he took a pistol, too, checking if it was loaded and sliding the holster along his belt.

  How many times had she seen him absent-mindedly stick that small copper key into his pocket, realize what he'd done, laugh at himself and then put it back on the side table? How many times had she seen him do it? Ten? Twenty? Fifty?

  She sank onto the bed and sucked in a ragged breath. Tears burned her eyes and she swiped at them. Her throat closed against air and she clutched at the blanket under her on the edge of the bed - she didn't need a panic attack, not right now. Breathe, Quinn. Breathe and think.

  But the sudden terror fought back, clawing through her chest, pushing small whimpers past her lips. She felt unable to move, unable to even stand, much less try to make rational thought happen. Her mind swirled with images of Burns, dead, Ethan dead, her dead in a few minutes. Retro would be alone if Abel didn't kill him. He would starve, or get lost in the woods. Maybe he could find his way to the neighbors by the -.

  The neighbors. What had Abel called them? Rick and Patty? Her mind latched onto the names and brought them into sharp focus. Her eyes went to the window. Rick and Patty. They were help, less than a mile away. Within reach, if she could just be strong. If she could catch her breath and get herself together, if she could...

  The sound of a gunshot pulled her off the bed to her knees on the floor. Her arms flew over her head and her throat let loose a strangled scream. Burns. She snorted a sob. “No, no, no...” she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut, like she could stop the truth.

  She listened as carefully as she could, but no sound other than her own fearful heartbeat reached her ears. That bastard had killed Burns. Anger fought with fear in her gut, and for a moment she fought back a throat-full of vomit.

  Pounding on the door made her cover her head again. Abel said something, his voice deep but too muffled. Retro broke into a barking fit. She heard his claws ticking toward her, down the hall, but then he stopped and turned again, still barking. Her instinct was to call to him, to snuggle his head and soothe his confusion and worry, but she couldn't risk Abel pinpointing her here in the house. As hard as it was, she needed to be still. She squeezed her lips together and willed Retro to come to her. For the first time, really, since the beginning of this terrible day, it occurred to her that she might die.

  Another gunshot sounded again, and she heard a new sound. It took her a moment to place it, but then she did - splintering wood.

  Abel was shooting the locks on the door.

  Chapter Eleven

  Abel staggered against the door and tried the lock. The damned dog - he hadn't seen that coming - had ripped most of his coat off and sank those God-awful teeth into his thigh, his forearm, and his calf. Abel’s muscles burned enough that he was pretty sure there was blood, but he didn't bother checking. Time enough for that later.

  He fell back from the door and leaned against the porch banister to steady himself. In the process he kicked over a little birdhouse looking thing that sat on the edge of the porch. It was a tiny house that looked kind of like this one, except on the side in fancy letters and red ink it said, Ethan and Quinn Galloway. He grunted at it, thinking nice-ta-meecha, Quinn. Then he lifted the rifle and took aim.

  Woman wouldn't get away from him. She'd lied about her husband, hadn't she? She'd busted him in the head with a damned crowbar, of all things. He should have seen it coming, and he hadn't. It made him feel stupid, and Abel hated feeling stupid.

  From the ruckus inside, he knew he'd have to shoot a second dog before he could get to Quinn. It was a shame. He liked dogs, and the German shepherd laying at the foot of the stairs was a beautiful specimen. Reminded him of a pup his best friend had a long time ago, when he was just a kid. That had been a good dog, and he'd wanted to own one just like it since he could remember. Maybe one day, but not today. He would kill the dog as soon as he got the door open. He was ignoring his wounds for now, but he also knew that he wouldn't be able to handle much more damage.

  The woman would be worth it. She would have access to the money, the cars...everything he needed. Once he had that, he'd be all set. Of course, he wouldn't be able to keep her around like he'd thought. He could see that now. She was too much trouble.

  The rifle kicked, but nothing he couldn't handle. Wood flew from a spot about two inches left of the door knob. He cursed, spread his stance a little, and aimed again. This time the knob twisted. He let out a satisfied grunt, aimed, and shot again.

  The door knob stayed put, but he heard a small clink as the inner part of it fell to the hardwood floor inside. That brought a smile to his face. Then he heard Quinn whistle. His smile widened. The dog stopped barking.

  His first instinct was to knock out the rest of the knob, put his eye to the ho
le and look inside. But Abel wasn't stupid and he knew that she might have a gun pointed at that eye hole. It wasn't likely, she wouldn't be thinking that clearly, but it was possible.

  He shifted against the banister again. The burning in his calf was getting worse. He would need to do something about it soon, but right now he was too close.

  It was funny how rich people moved to the back country, thinking they were some kind of farmer, when they were really just sitting ducks for guys like him. He wasn't special or fancy or even moral, and he knew it. It was the only way for guys like him to get ahead, wasn't it? He didn't have the good TV parents or the private schools or the car at graduation. The system had kept families like his poor and dumb, and whose fault was that?

  The same rich people who were moving in here and buying up land, playing farmer, like they knew anything about living in the real world. They were the ones who never gave him a chance, and they were the ones who taught him that if he wanted anything, he might as well just take it.

  Nobody was handing out the good life, were they? Like his daddy always said, “Fight for what you want, and never run from a fight.”

  So he ignored his pain, stood up tall against the porch post, and fired again. The door blew open like he'd kicked it.

  Abel grinned and lowered the gun. Then he stuck his head inside, carefully, just in case the dog jumped at him. He didn't see anything, but his body was getting stiff, thanks to his wounds. No matter. He'd be finished here soon, and he could rest in that fine recliner he spotted in there. It better be worth the trouble. “Quinn Galloway!”

  As soon as he yelled, he saw a flash of light from the corner of his eye. Turning, he picked out a set of headlights coming around a bend in the road. That would be Patty, coming home from work. It was too cold for anyone to be out running around for the fun of it, especially on roads as treacherous as these.

  He knelt down until he was below the banister level and waited for her car to pass. It disappeared into the tree again, headed down the mountain and he turned his attention back to the house.

  Chapter Twelve

  Her first instinct was to roll under the bed, but then she immediately realized how stupid that was. The house wasn't large, and he would be able to find her in a matter of minutes if she tried that.

  She had to get out. And she had to do it before he got to her.

  Another gunshot pierced the air.

  She jumped of course - it sounded like he was aiming a cannon down the hall. She pushed up from the floor and, before she could talk herself out of it, whistled.

  The ticking of Retro's claws told her he'd heard. Thank God.

  His head poked in through the bedroom door. He barked once, and she shushed him. What was the command for him to be silent? Ethan had told her, but her mind was too scattered to remember. “Retro,” she whispered. He came to her.

  Another shot startled them both, but this time she thought fast enough, when Retro turned away, to grab his collar. She was going to need him with her.

  “Quinn Galloway.” Abel’s voice was sharp, angry.

  The air whooshed out of her lungs. She gripped Retro's collar that much harder.

  Her coat was in the living room. No way she was going after it. She glanced toward the closet, but did she really have time to worry about layers, or finding one of Ethan's old coats that had been shoved to the back?

  No, she didn't. In fact, her feet had made the decision for her - she was already moving through the doorway, into the hall. It was less than a mile to the neighbors' house. She was wearing a sweater with a t-shirt under it. She could survive that. She had to - there was no time left. At least she was still wearing her boots.

  She thought she heard a faint hum, but didn't take time to figure out what it was - probably the refrigerator running, and she wasn't about to die because of a refrigerator.

  Abel had gained entrance, and she was without a weapon. She reached the door, found the knob. and slipped outside, dragging Retro with her. Hopefully Abel was busy out front and wouldn't know she was gone. He'd have to hunt. That would buy her time.

  There was another problem, and now that she was out here, standing on the porch, she immediately realized the flaw in her thinking. It might be only a mile to the neighbors, but that was by road, and she couldn't get to the road, not without going around to the front of the house. Not without Abel seeing her.

  That left the woods. The way she needed to go was steep and dangerous, full of briars and sharp drops where the rocks had given way long before America was a country. The biggest hurdle was a steep ravine, at least eighty feet deep, with a small creek at the bottom. The whole mess was scattered with loose stones, wet leaves under the deep snow, and about ten small crevices in the rock - not quite caves, but deep enough to hide any number of possibly dangerous animals. Getting to the bottom without breaking her ankles would be a feat, all by itself. Then she would have to climb the other side, make her way to the river and travel the bank to the neighbor’s house.

  She and Ethan had talked about clearing off this part of the land, thinking that water running out of the mountains would form a beautiful waterfall there. They even considered renting some equipment and making a nice walking trail to the bottom.

  So many plans, and they were just getting started. Now it was over already, and it had all been for nothing. All the planning, the dreaming, the tossing around ideas and double and triple checking their finances. Ethan had given up a new truck last year, so they would have that much extra in the bank. Now Quinn wished that he'd bought that truck. She wished they still lived in Atlanta, where Ethan was secretly miserable but still alive.

  Still gripping Retro's collar, just in case he decided to go back, she crouched and ran for the woods behind the dog pen. The air was frigid and immediately hurt her chest, but she ignored it and crunched through the knee high snow until she could slip behind a tree. At least it had stopped snowing for now. She desperately wished that the clouds would clear a little and offer her a few slivers of moonlight, because her flashlight was still in her coat pocket in the house.

  She paused behind the tree, pulling Retro around in front of her so that he was hidden, too. As long as he didn't bark, they should be concealed well enough for the moment. She'd only run about fifty feet from the house to the trees cover, but her legs were already shaking with the effort of kicking snow out of her path and slogging through the wet. Her pants were soaked to the knees, about six inches above the boots she thought would be fine when she bought them.

  This was not going to be a pleasant trip.

  The sky stayed dark, but her eyes began to adjust a little. Still, she could only see about ten feet in front of her, and most of that was impassable. She noted a couple of fallen logs in her path and looked for a way around them. If she fell here, she would basically roll to the bottom of the ravine - that is, if she didn't slam her head against a tree and die first. The thought made her shudder and she pushed off, before she lost her nerve.

  One lucky thing she noticed was the natural trails - small, clear areas, almost holes in the brambles, where deer and other critters made their way to the river from here. She could see two for sure, and maybe a third. All of them were small and hard to see, but she thought that if she looked closely and tried to be very careful, she could follow these trails to her destination.

  One night not long after they'd moved in, she was coming from the chicken house when Ethan met her halfway across the yard for a kiss. She had snuggled in close and given him what he was after, but then they heard something froze them both. A scream. It wasn't exactly human, but it wasn't animal, either. They had stared at each other wide eyed, and she remembered the hair all over her body standing on end as the wavering high-pitched noise penetrated her ears.

  “What is that?” she managed to get out, before Ethan shook his head and shushed her.

  In the end, he didn't know either, and it took an hour of YouTube videos to figure it out. A mountain lion.

&
nbsp; Retro looked around the woods and then whined up at her. He licked her hand, and she didn't know if he was worried, or just trying to reassure her. She didn't know - she was just thankful beyond belief to have him here. If she had to travel these woods alone...well, she wasn't sure she'd have the guts, to be honest.

  She listened for a moment, and when she didn't hear anything but the rustle of Retro's fur against her and her own breathing, she pushed off the tree and headed away from the house.

  The land began to slope downward almost immediately, making her feel a little bit like she was going to tumble head first into the ravine. Keeping one hand on various trees as she passed and the other firmly around Retro's collar in case he ran, she was walking blind and relying on the dog to let her know if she needed to stop or go around something. He wasn't trained for this, of course, but she knew that he wouldn't walk blindly off a cliff, either. If he stopped, she would, too. It was as simple and as dangerous as that.

  Her boots crunched loudly in the snow, and if Abel was anywhere close she would be in real trouble. It wouldn't take much to pinpoint her out here, while she was too blind to see anyone if they were more than a few feet away. If he somehow got in front of her, she would slam right into him without Retro's input.

  The thought almost paralyzed her, but she shook the thought out of her head and forced her feet forward.

  The land was sloping farther now, enough that she had to slow down. In order to keep her balance, she reluctantly let go of Retro's collar. Thankfully, he stayed close. If she listened closely she could hear him panting. When a sharp branch caught her cheek, she hissed but didn't stop moving.

  The first time her foot slipped out from under her, she was on her ass before she even knew what happened. Her arm had caught a slim tree trunk instinctively, but she still slid on her butt for a second before she got stopped. At the same time, she gasped hard enough that the shot of cold air in her lungs made her head hurt immediately, like a sort of brain freeze without the ice cream.