by Kim McMahill
The sound of shattering glass from several locations in the house confirmed their suspicions. Rather than panic, Grace readied her shotgun, glanced out the window, and then looked to Logan for instructions.
“Watch the guy out front while I cover the back,” Logan stated as he peered around the corner at a man tumbling through the broken glass door.
Shots from three different directions forced Logan to dive back out of sight. The sounds of gunfire confirmed all unaccounted for men had made it into the house. With one man blocking the front, and three preventing any escape out the back, they were trapped.
“You okay?” Logan asked, forcing the flashbacks to Arizona out of his mind while timing his shots to keep the men from rushing forward.
“For now,” she replied.
“Let’s just try and keep them pinned back and hope the sheriff is getting close.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Grace caught movement outside. The man who had taken cover behind Moss’s truck was making a run for the front door. She stepped back several paces and raised her weapon, praying the door would hold. Nothing stood between Logan and the entryway as he focused on the threat coming from the rear of the house. Her arms shook, but she held firm.
A person slammed into the door with a powerful thud, but it held. Grace exhaled, but didn’t lower her guard. A second, harder hit rammed the door, and this time she could hear the frame crack. The third contact caused the door to collapse, sending splinters of wood shooting through the air, followed by a large man stumbling into the house in the wake of the destruction. He quickly regained his balance, lifted his pistol, and aimed at Logan’s back.
Grace saw no other alternative. Logan couldn’t pull his attention from the three men firing at him from the rear of the house, so she pulled the trigger.
The damage from discharging both barrels at such close range was so horrific Grace had to struggle to keep the bile down as her world began to spin. The impact had pushed the man nearly all the way back out of the house, leaving a trail of blood across the hardwood floors, marking his retreat and leaving a spattering of red on the windows and walls.
Pushing back the fear, shock, and revulsion, Grace quickly reloaded her weapon and inched toward Logan. No longer concerned about intrusion through the front door, she reigned in her fear and horror and focused on staying alive.
“Fish a clip out of my pocket and when I say ‘switch,’ hand me your shotgun and put a new clip in my handgun, quickly. If they hear much of a pause, they’ll make their move.”
Grace forced her trembling fingers to function and pulled the last clip out of Logan’s coat pocket. When he gave her the signal, she popped the used clip out and slipped a new one in while he fired one barrel at a time to keep the men at bay until she could reload.
“Take my place. Fire just enough to prevent them from rushing us, as I’ve been doing, and don’t show yourself,” he stated as he slipped away and left her alone at the corner leading into the living room.
Her eyes followed Logan long enough to see him remove the dead guy’s gun and disappear out the door and into the cold, dark night. Timing her shots to make the final clip last as long as possible, Grace continued to fire, realizing she was inflicting no damage since she wasn’t getting a visual on her target or aiming at anything in particular.
The sound of more glass breaking and shots coming from a different part of the house told her Logan had circled around to get a more advantageous position and turn the tables on the enemy. She had no way to know if anyone had taken a bullet, but until she was out of ammo, or Logan told her differently, she’d continue with the plan.
Grace hated firing blindly, not knowing where Logan was, but she had to trust he would stay out of her line of fire since he knew she couldn’t see anything. She heard breaking furniture, thuds, grunts, curses, and soon shots were more sporadic and sounded closer and from a different angle.
Acknowledging she had to be nearly out of ammunition, Grace decided she needed to conserve and make every shot count. She waited until the next shot was fired. It embedded in a log close to her head. The shooter was definitely working his way around the room and would soon have a less obstructed angle to reach her. Gauging where he must be by the trajectory of his last shot, she adjusted her stance, and exposing herself only enough to search for her target, she peeked around the corner, took aim, and fired.
Her panicked shot landed low, but the bullet grazed the man’s leg. He instinctively reached for the wound. He lifted his head, and the evil in his eyes made Grace gasp and stumble backward.
In the moment of the man’s distraction, Logan exploded out of the office doorway and tackled the guy. Both men landed on the floor with a bone-jarring thud. Logan quickly gained the advantage, straddling the wounded man. He grasped the man’s wrist and slammed his hand against the floor repeatedly, forcing the gun from his grasp.
Despite the wound, the man wasn’t giving up. He was clearly an experienced fighter. With his free hand, he grabbed Logan around the throat in a vise-like grip. Logan gasped but managed to land several punches to the man’s jaw, dislodging the hold.
As Grace stood by helplessly, she feared for Logan. The men looked evenly matched in size, and it was difficult to determine whose blows were doing the most damage. Her eyes landed on the invader’s gun, but as the men continued to exchange blows, she realized there was no way to discharge a weapon without the risk of hitting Logan.
The struggle continued. It looked as if Logan was finally getting the upper hand when the man’s fist slammed into Logan’s kidney, and the deputy slumped forward. The man took advantage of the momentary lapse and flipped Logan onto his back flat on the floor, gaining the dominant position.
This time Grace didn’t hesitate. She grabbed the fireplace poker and swung with all her might at the man’s head.
Chapter Forty-Three
The sound of approaching snow machines stole Grace’s attention. As Logan struggled to push the limp weight off him, Grace retrieved the man’s gun from the floor and ran for the door being held ajar by a lifeless body. Someone’s reinforcements had arrived, but were the riders the sheriff and his deputies or more assassins coming to finish the job?
Three machines sped toward them at a nearly out of control rate of speed, sliding to a stop in front of the house, blinding her with lights. Turning away from the glare, Grace pinched her eyes shut and reopened them, avoiding direct line of sight with the illumination. With her vision restored, she lifted the unfamiliar handgun, hoping for the best but prepared for the worst.
Slipping up behind her, Logan pried the weapon from her fingers, put his free arm around her, and pulled her close. “It’s over,” he whispered in her ear.
Grace’s eyes focused on the five persons abandoning their sleds, fanning out, and taking cover. Logan’s arm slipped from her shoulder, and stepping over the corpse blocking the doorway, he walked out onto the porch. He motioned to the solo rider, and as the man approached, Grace realized he was Sheriff Harris.
Logan was right. The immediate threat was over, but for how long?
She turned from the grisly scene and retreated to the garage. Both dogs were hidden under a workbench, and the cats were nowhere in sight. Charlotte huddled in one corner of the pen, shaking, while the other two pigs raced in frantic little circles through the straw, sliding on the concrete concealed beneath. Charlotte’s behavior concerned her. The others seemed frightened, but otherwise unharmed, which was normal under the circumstances, so she focused on the dogs.
Sitting on the cold concrete in front of the work bench, she talked in soothing tones until Aussie shyly crept out. Grace hugged the dog and cried.
When Logan entered the garage ten minutes later, he found Grace sitting on the floor holding one of the mutts with her shoulders shaking and the tears flowing. The scene broke his heart.
Would she ever recover from the horror and tragedy? Would he ever see her smile again? Would she want to put everything behind he
r, including him?
Not knowing what else to do, he knelt down and gently pulled Blue out from under the workbench. Cradling the shaking canine on its back like a baby, Logan found the shard of glass embedded in the dog’s paw and carefully pulled it out. Blue yelped but didn’t fight as Logan located a clean rag and wrapped the wound to stop the bleeding, and then lowered the dog into his bed.
Grace looked up at him with tear-filled eyes. She lifted her arms. He took her hands and pulled her to her feet and into his embrace.
“I don’t even know where to begin,” she choked.
“We’ve got a mess, but help is here. We just have to take everything one step at a time, and together we’ll get through it, I promise.”
A sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob escaped her lips. “Thinking about the disaster on the other side of the door, I have a difficult time sharing your optimism, but I’ll try.”
Easing Grace back, he tipped her chin up, forcing her to look at him. “Forget about what’s on the other side of the door and tell me what we can do here for the animals, right now. Blue and Aussie are calming down, but what’s the deal with the pigs?”
Grace forced a weak smile to her lips. She didn’t know if he was really concerned about the animals or just distracting her from the chaos. The sound of snowmobiles racing around, vehicles approaching, and muffled voices were impossible to push from her mind, but as her eyes landed on Charlotte she knew she had to try to do something constructive. “You can get a bucket of slop from that bin. If you feed the pigs, they’ll forget why they are so upset.”
As Logan retrieved food to calm the frantic pigs, Grace gathered her supplies and climbed into the pen. Kneeling down next to Charlotte, she talked in soft, soothing tones as she drew blood from the pig, gathered tissue samples, listened to her heart, and gave her a thorough exam.
“Is she okay?” Logan asked as he joined her. “She looks a bit bluish.”
“I don’t know. She should be frantic like the other two, but she almost seems to be lacking the energy to behave naturally. It could be the stress, but Charlotte hasn’t been herself ever since I arrived. Moss noticed her weight has leveled off over the past week, and she seems a little lethargic.”
Grace crawled out of the pen with Logan close behind. She prepared the blood and tissue samples for transport and documented the pig’s vitals and overall condition. She wasn’t sure how to get the samples to a lab, or who she could trust with the analysis. With Dr. Clark missing and Kathleen and Jonah dead, she was at a loss but needed answers immediately.
Grieving would have to wait. If her suspicions were correct, Charlotte’s life depended on quick action. Saving Charlotte was one thing that might still be within her control.
The nearby sound of hammering pulled her out of her dilemma. “What are they doing?”
“I imagine boarding up the windows.” Logan replied.
“With what? All the plywood burned up in the barn, and the Hickman brothers haven’t delivered the lumber for the new barn yet.”
“Don Matthews brought over a truckload of supplies he had on hand.”
“H-he’s here?” Her voice quivered. “I imagine he j-just wants to revel in our tragedy,” Grace stated, choking back the tears.
Logan placed his hands on her shoulders, and waited until she looked up at him. “Grace, when you told the sheriff I’d left, he called Don and asked him to put a scope on the place and report what he was seeing. Don couldn’t see the house, but he spotted a vehicle blocking the lane with an empty snowmobile trailer. When he saw my flashing lights he hightailed it over here with a sled, knowing I couldn’t drive around the parked rig. The snow was too deep to go off road.”
Grace took in the information, but didn’t respond.
“He took my truck back to his place, rounded up Bob Johnson and his son, and your neighbors had three more sleds waiting at the highway by the time the sheriff arrived.”
Tears slid down her cheeks. When a knock on the door sounded, she turned away from Logan to wipe the evidence of her raging emotions from her face.
“Wanted to let you know we’ve shuttled your rig over here, boarded up the windows, and Bob and I are headed home. I just wanted to, um, well, see how Grace is holding up?”
Grace walked up to Don Matthews and wrapped her arms around him. “Thank you. You saved my life. If Logan hadn’t arrived when he did, it would have been too late.”
“Didn’t do anything you or Moss wouldn’t have done for me or mine if the tables were turned. Despite past grudges, we take care of our own up here. Since you are Moss’s pride and joy, hopefully he’ll consider us even for the grazing incident, and we can move on. Tonight was a very harsh reminder life is too short to hold grudges.”
“I agree, and I’ll put in a good word for you,” Grace replied, forcing a smile.
“In the meantime, Doris has coffee on, a big batch of homemade cinnamon rolls in the oven, and she’s got the fixings for biscuits and gravy for everyone who has been out all night in this cold nasty weather. The sheriff thinks it would be a good idea if you rode home with me and waited until they finished up here.”
Grace looked up at Logan and could tell he wanted her to go. It would be a while before she could enter the house, and hiding out in the unheated garage for too long wasn’t really an option. She was cold and emotionally and physically drained. There was an investigation to complete and a lot of blood and glass to clean up, making the house currently uninhabitable. Besides, she had no doubt she was keeping Logan from doing his job.
“I appreciate the offer, and I’m sure Logan will be surprised and happy that I’ll go willingly. Just let me check on the dogs and pigs one more time, and we can be on our way.”
Chapter Forty-Four
The sky was beginning to lighten with the approaching dawn as Devyn reached the turnoff to the Talbot Ranch. She wished she had kept quiet about Nick’s driving. The roads had been treacherous all the way, and she had the kinks in her neck and aches in her shoulders to prove it. He looked immaculately groomed, as usual, and rested.
Pulling off the highway, Devyn stopped the vehicle and examined the scene. The snow lining the lane was crisscrossed with what looked to be a multitude of snowmobile tracks, but a rise prevented them from seeing the ranch house from their vantage point. Taking her cue from Nick, she pulled out her service weapon, rechecked the load out of habit, and set it on the seat next to her before continuing on, not knowing what they would find.
Neither spoke as they navigated the lane. Devyn wasn’t used to driving in so much snow, so she focused on making sure they didn’t get stuck rather than speculating on what they would see once they crested the incline.
“Holy crap!” Nick gasped.
Devyn could think of no more appropriate response as she took in three sheriff’s department vehicles, the burnt-out shell of what she assumed must be the white Suburban they had been tracking, another truck with an empty snowmobile trailer, an upside down snowmobile just off the end of the porch, boarded up windows all across the front of the house, and four body bags lined up in a morbid row.
As she got out of the vehicle and stretched, she spotted Gage Harris approaching. Memories flooded through her as she watched his long, purposeful stride quickly close the distance between them. The heavy coat made his already broad shoulders seem out of proportion with his lean, long legs. He always looked so masculine, strong, and sure of himself that it took a bit of an effort whenever she was around him to maintain the aloof demeanor she was known for, and avoid behaving like a teenage girl at a high school pep rally fawning over the quarterback.
“Devyn, good to see you, but I’m sorry to report you’re a little late for the party,” Gage stated with a crooked little smile on his face as he took her outstretched hand.
His familiar deep voice, which had haunted many of her dreams, made her heart skip a beat. Quickly regaining her composure, she took his hand and gave it a firm shake. Then she turned away from his
warm smile and mischievous gaze which always made her feel a little weak in the knees.
“Hopefully not too late for a friendly interview. Is this everyone?” She motioned to the bodies on the ground. “Or did you save some for me?”
“Three survived. One probably has a broken back from a high speed collision with a tree, and another took a bullet through his shoulder just above his heart. Between his heavy clothes and laying out in the cold, which slowed down the blood flow, he’ll probably survive. I don’t believe they’ll be of much help. They’re clearly low-level flunkies, but we do believe they are the two who torched the barn and killed Butch. They match the description of two strangers the Hickman brothers helped in the road.”
“And the third?” Devyn asked.
“He’s been fading in and out of consciousness, but Carlson got the impression he was the ringleader. So far, I haven’t been able to get anything out of him.”
“Special Agent Nick Melonis,” Nick stated, inserting himself between Devyn and the tall man, offering his hand to the sheriff.
“Nice to meet you. I see Devyn still isn’t much on social etiquette,” Gage replied.
Nick chuckled as Devyn glared at him impatiently.
“Do you have an ID on the leader?” she asked.
“Frank Smith, Don Jones, Mike Martin. Take your pick. He had all three driver’s licenses on him.”
“Why am I not surprised? Where’s he at?”
Wasting no more words, Gage turned and Devyn followed closely on his heels. When she spotted the bleeding man stretched out on the living room floor, she knelt down and his eyes fluttered open.
“We’ll go with Frank, okay. Who are you working for, and what’s worth all this killing?”
The man grimaced in pain and shut his eyes.
“How about, I start and you can fill in the gaps,” Devyn stated. “You were hired by a pharmaceutical or medical research company. This isn’t your first job for them. At a minimum, you’ve blown up a lab, manufactured a fatal skiing accident, and assisted a researcher in putting a gun in his mouth and pulling the trigger. Am I getting close?”