by Linda Conrad
And where he wanted to go was not back to the highway. He was counting on that being what the bad guys would figure. That he would make a beeline for the highway, trying to escape. But Jericho knew the stretch of highway running in front of his acreage was always pretty deserted at this time of night. So he turned his truck in the other direction and headed toward the old homesite.
He spared a swift glance toward Rosie and saw her hanging on to the door with all her might. She was badly shaken by this bumpy ride. But at least she was alive.
As the pickup neared the relic of the ancient cabin, Jericho cut the engine and let it glide up to the clearing. When he thought they were in the best spot not to be seen through the woods, he parked and took the first breath he’d had since the original rifle shot had hit the truck.
“We’re right behind my cabin—out a few yards behind those targets I set up.” He shifted and drew his service weapon. “Here. This is similar to the gun you were using to practice this morning. I want you to keep it and stay with the truck.” He handed the Glock over and then turned to bring down his rifle.
“You’re not leaving me here.” Even in the darkness he could see her trembling.
“You’ll be safer here. I’m going to sneak up to the house and get in through a hidden basement door. I won’t be able to move as fast or as quietly with you in tow. Stay here where I know you’ll be safe.”
“Why are you going to the cabin? Why aren’t we running for our lives in the other direction?”
“Trust me,” he said. “They won’t be expecting me to head right for them. This’ll be the best way—a real surprise.”
Hefting the rifle with one hand, he quietly eased open the door but flipped off the overhead light. Then he reached around under his seat with his free hand.
When he straightened, he held up something small. “Here’s my cell phone.” He shoved it at her. “Call 911 the minute I’m out of sight. Tell them Sheriff Yates needs help at his cabin. And also tell them you’re waiting in my pickup by the old Gaston place. They’ll come, but it may take twenty minutes.”
Before he stepped out, Jericho shifted close and seared a quick kiss across her lips. “Please stay put. No matter what you hear. I’ll come back for you as soon as I can.”
She blinked a couple of times and then stared down at the weapon still fisted in her hand. “Okay,” she answered in a shaky voice.
Rosie watched Jericho slide noiselessly out of the truck and shut the door behind him. Within seconds he disappeared into the darkness.
She called 911 and the operator also told her to stay where she was. After hanging up, she was all alone again.
Her heart thudded so loudly in her chest that she was afraid it would give her away. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, but every shadow seemed to move. The black night began closing in on her.
She couldn’t just sit here. If one of those men happened to spot the truck, they’d have her captured in an instant. Not sure she could use the gun and sorry she had promised to stay put, Rosie made the decision to move. To hide in the trees, away from the pickup.
Easing out her door, she carefully shut it again. Then, putting the phone in her pocket and holding the gun with both hands, she tiptoed across the caliche and into the forest in the same direction as she’d last seen Jericho.
Shaking badly and with her back against the rough surface of a tree, she stopped to catch her breath and listened for any sounds. Nothing. No night noises of any kind. No car engines. No whispers or footsteps close enough that she could hear.
She closed her eyes and tried to calm down. But then it happened. A loud click sounded through the night. Close by. Had it come from over by the truck? Was it the sound of a weapon being prepared to fire? Or was it someone’s footsteps breaking a twig beneath their shoes?
It didn’t matter which one. She had to get away. Adrenaline shot through her veins, giving her false courage and agility as she stepped out and made her move.
Chapter 8
R osie had been holding her breath for the last fifteen minutes. Hadn’t she? Hiding behind the largest target Jericho had set up in his backyard, she exhaled and peered toward the back of his cabin through the spotty moonlight.
Suddenly staccato bursts, which she thought must be guns firing, echoed through the night. But they seemed a long way away. Were sounds deceiving out here? And who had been doing the shooting—and who may have been shot? The next moment brought total silence again.
Weren’t there outside lights in the back as well as the front of the cabin? It seemed as though this morning she’d noticed a few tall posts at the edges of Jericho’s backyard that she’d assumed were lights or electricity. Now there was nothing but darkness.
Curiosity got the better of her. She had to find out what was going on.
Creeping out from her hiding place, Rosie wondered if she would be too exposed even in the dark by cutting across Jericho’s yard. She slipped the gun into her waistband and dropped to all fours. Crawling might cause her hands and knees some damage, but maybe she would live longer by keeping a lower profile.
After slithering a few feet, her hands were covered in nasty burrs from the sticker bushes. Another yard and her skin began to sting. Ants! Cripes.
Was it worth it to stay low? Someone from above must’ve been watching out for her, because right then she felt the raindrops start against her back and neck.
Rain would be a good cover, she thought. So she stood, dusted off the ants and stickers as best she could and moved on through the windy mists, hopefully still in the direction of the cabin.
Did she know how to pray? Had she been a churchgoer in her previous life? Rosie couldn’t say, but still, she tried begging for mercy in the only way she could imagine.
Please, God. If I was a bad person, then don’t help me now for myself. But keep me safe for Jericho’s sake. She knew the sheriff well enough by now to know if he lost her, it would devastate him.
The rain began coming down in sheets then, and she gave thanks for the shield it provided. But in the next moment she found herself totally turned around. What direction was the cabin? Rosie could barely tell up from down.
Frozen in panic, she swiped the water out of her eyes and tried to reason. Should she keep on going straight ahead? Had she turned her body at all after she’d stood up and the rain started?
A disturbing noise reached her ears through the sounds of rain splashing against the dirt. It sounded for all the world like someone moaning. Jericho?
Had he been injured? If so, he would need her help.
Sucking up all her courage, Rosie put her hands straight out in front of her body to run interference in case she smashed into any trees or walls. And then she took her first tentative steps, going in what seemed to be the same direction as the moaning sounds.
Shuffling along, she went quite a few yards, totally blinded by the rain. Then the weather eased up a bit, allowing her to see the dark shape of the cabin straight ahead. She stopped to listen.
There. The same unsettling moans. Closer to the cabin’s back wall. She inched ahead again.
Nearby. She felt she was almost on top of the sounds now. Did she dare call out?
Dear Lord, what shall I do?
Out of nowhere a siren’s scream pealed through the night. Help was coming! Thank heaven. They were saved.
“Jericho,” she rasped in as loud a whisper as she dared. “Where are you?”
Another blind step and Rosie tripped over something large and inert, lying on the ground. She put her hands out in front of her body to take the brunt of her fall. But it wasn’t any use.
Down she went. In the next instant, her nose buried itself in mud and muck. Ugh. As fast as possible, she pushed herself up and tried to roll over to catch her breath. The mud clung to her, sucked her back down.
Damn it. All she could think was had that inert object been Jericho’s body? Rosie forced herself up to crawl backward. She had to find out.
Quic
kly losing his grip on self-control, Jericho slammed the door to his empty pickup, still sitting exactly where he’d left it, and cussed under his breath. Where the hell was she? She’d promised to stay here.
He knew the bad guys hadn’t had a chance to kidnap her. He’d been keeping them plenty busy over the last half hour. First with the surprise of having to fight off his firepower. And then with trying to get away after they’d heard the sirens heading their way.
At least they hadn’t gotten away totally clean. He’d winged one of them as the guy had been making a dash toward his buddy in the SUV. Jericho was sure of it. He was also positive their SUV had taken several hits as he’d fired at their retreating backside.
Both Deputy Rawlins and a deputy from another part of the county had arrived at the scene at the same time. The other deputy had taken off in pursuit, but Jericho didn’t figure he would have much of a chance of catching the SUV that’d had a few minutes head start.
Now where the hell was Rosie?
“Lend me your cell, Adam,” he said to his deputy.
“Sure thing, boss.” Adam threw him a phone and then began edging around the clearing with his flashlight studying the ground.
“There won’t be any decent prints left after that rainstorm,” Jericho told him. “I’m going through the woods toward the rear of my cabin. You go on back to the house by way of the highway and see if you can spot Rosie anywhere along the road.”
They split up and Adam retreated carefully down the ancient caliche road in the direction of the highway. Jericho flicked on his own flashlight and headed into the woods at approximately the same spot where he’d gone in an hour ago.
In a few minutes, he came out at the edge of his property line. Going left, he found the emergency shutoff for the outside lights and turned them back on. Earlier darkness had saved his ass. Now it was keeping him from finding Rosie. She had to be somewhere close.
He stood for a second, letting his eyes become accustomed to the floodlight. Then, thinking he heard a snuffling noise, Jericho moved closer to his cabin. In the direction of that noise. Pulling out his deputy’s phone, he put it to his ear and punched in his own cell number.
It began to ring, but the ringing was much clearer in his free ear than in the ear next to the phone. His own phone had to be somewhere nearby.
“Hello?” He heard Rosie whispering into the phone.
“Where are you?” he demanded. “You were supposed to stay put.”
“Jericho? I need you. I’m out behind….”
Her sentence was interrupted when Jericho’s flashlight beam roamed across her face. “Here I am. Help me, please.”
Through the beam of light, Jericho saw her sitting on the ground in half shadow just a few feet behind his cabin. She looked like someone had covered her in mud and weeds. Her tear-streaked face was caked and intense. If he wasn’t mistaken, she also seemed to be holding his old shepherd’s head in her lap.
“What the hell?” He bent on one knee. Sure enough, Shep’s body lay perfectly still and Rosie was murmuring something quietly in the old dog’s ear.
“I think he’s still alive,” she said. “But…but…”
“They poisoned him.” Jericho’s blood raged. He had to grit his teeth against the idea of anyone hurting his animals.
Thrusting the flashlight into Rosie’s hand, he carefully scooped up the dog. “Lead the way toward the kitchen door. As soon as we get him inside, I’ll call for help. Then I’ll need to come back out and look for Chet.”
At the mention of his name, the collie appeared out of the shadows. With his tail between his legs and shaking his head as though to clear it, the collie didn’t look all that strong, either.
“Good boy, Chet. We’ve got your buddy now. Don’t worry. Come inside.”
Rosie opened the door, flipped on the kitchen overhead light and stood aside so he could bring both dogs across the threshold. Jericho took one look at her in the bright light, and his heart sank.
Not only hadn’t he managed to keep his dogs safe, but the one person he’d been determined to save tonight looked like she’d been dragged through hell.
Nice night’s work, Sheriff.
“Thanks, Quinn. I appreciate it.” In the early hours of the morning, Jericho stood at his front door, saying goodbye to his neighbor, Quinn Logan, a large animal vet. “I know dogs aren’t really your business, but I’m not sure mine would’ve made it without your help.”
Rosie stood back a few feet and listened as Quinn prepared to leave. She ached all over. And even though she’d washed her face and hands, her body was still covered in mud. However, she was much more concerned for her host than for herself. He’d been so pale and quiet as they’d tried to make the dogs comfortable and waited for the vet.
At first, after they’d come into the dry, safe house, he’d been all business and strong as he’d dealt with the deputies and made phone calls about their attackers. Then a little later, when they were sitting on the floor with the dogs in the kitchen, she’d caught Jericho trembling while he stroked the coat of his old shepherd. She almost knew how he felt. If Shep died because someone was after her, she would never be able to live with herself.
“Well, I didn’t do much,” Quinn told Jericho. “I wish I could’ve done more for the shepherd. Your collie should be fine by tomorrow. But it may be touch and go with the older dog for a few days.”
“What kind of poison do you think they used?”
Quinn, a man about Jericho’s height but with an easygoing manner and sensitive eyes, shook his head and took a breath. “Not sure. But if I had to guess, I’d say it was probably an illegal human drug. Maybe something like PCP, which is easy to get on the street, and acts like an anesthetic in animals. As a powder, it would’ve been simple to add it to hamburger and feed it to the dogs.
“If it’d been anything like a real poison, the dogs wouldn’t have lived for this long.”
Jericho cleared his throat and looked down at his boots. “Yeah, well…”
Quinn clapped him on the shoulder with a gentle hand. “There’s nothing else you can do but wait. Get some rest yourself.”
The vet tilted his head in Rosie’s direction. “I’m thinking the humans in this house need as much attention as the animals. Both of you look like a strong wind might blow you over.”
Jericho shot her a quick glance. His eyes softened as they took in her messy appearance. Then he turned to finish telling the vet good-night.
After he locked the door and set the security alarms, Jericho took a few steps in her direction. He held his hands out, and Rosie thought he might take her into his arms. But something stopped him and he dropped his hands limply to his sides, shaking his head with hesitation.
“Why don’t you take a shower and hit the sack?” he said as he brushed past her, heading for the kitchen. “You heard Quinn. I’m just going to check on the dogs once more then collapse myself.”
“Aren’t you worried about those men coming back?”
“Not tonight.” Jericho’s lips actually quirked up into the semblance of a smile as he stopped and turned. “I’d bet those goons are going to be busy finding a way of tending their wounds without going to a legit doctor who would be bound to turn them in. They won’t even think of us again tonight. Then, for tomorrow night and every night until we come up with answers, I’ve already lined up a watch system. My brother, Fisher, and a couple of deputies from other parts of the county have already volunteered to stand guard in shifts. I’m sure a couple of our neighbors wouldn’t mind helping out, either.”
“Oh, no. That’s too much trouble because of me. Maybe I should leave. Go…” Where? Where could she go?
Jericho’s expression tensed as he shook his head. “You’re safer here than anywhere else. Let us watch out for you while we figure out where you came from. None of the people around here mind taking up the cause of your safety. It’s what we do in these parts. We watch out for each other.”
Rosie brushed
her fingers over her burning eyes. “Thank you, Sheriff. I suspect your friends and neighbors will help because of you, not me.
“But I don’t seem to have a lot of choices, do I?”
He stood watching her intently for several moments without answering. “Go on to bed. We’ll figure out something eventually. And in the meantime, just remember you’re safe.”
Turning his back then, Jericho headed into the kitchen to look after his animals. Miserable, but out of both choices and energy, Rosie forced one foot in front of the other and made her way toward the shower.
At the very least she could clean up. It was one of the only things she could do to help herself.
A half hour later, Jericho stood barefoot in front of his bedroom mirror, staring at his own image. Naked to the waist, he bent over the dresser and beat his fisted hands against the top. What a jerk he was. Damn it! He’d been so scared when he’d thought he might’ve lost Rosie. It made him sick to his stomach to think of it.
Gulping in air, he wondered what the hell was the matter with him. She wasn’t his to lose. She didn’t belong to him. In fact, she clearly belonged to someone else.
His dogs were resting easy now. He couldn’t worry too much about them for what was left of the night. But he had a feeling he wasn’t going to be faring as well as they did, what with Rosie right next to him in the other bedroom.
After he took a couple more deep, calming breaths, an odd noise reached his ears. Someone seemed to be in trouble nearby.
He stepped out into the darkened hallway and stood still to listen. The noise was much clearer from this spot. What he’d been hearing with the door closed was definitely the sound of a woman’s sobs. Coming from his bathroom.
He’d thought Rosie was already asleep in her room. Something must be wrong with her. But what should he do about it?
It sounded for all the world as if her heart were broken. But maybe she’d been hurt. What if she’d cut herself and really needed his help?
Hell.
In three big strides, he was at the bathroom door. He tried the knob, hoping to peek in and check on her without her noticing him. The door was unlocked, so he held his breath and opened it.