She grabbed his arm, realizing he was about to confront this man. He had no idea what he was getting into. “You can’t. He’s dangerous.”
Jaxon stared at her another moment as if trying to get a proper read on the situation. “We don’t know that this is our guy.”
“But what if it is?” Her voice cracked.
Jaxon wasn’t going to let someone else bully him or his guest. He grabbed a loaded gun from a drawer in his living room. Making sure Abby was tucked away safe, he opened the front door to step back outside.
“Jaxon . . .” Abby said.
The look in her eyes clutched his heart and transported him back in time. Back to Iraq. Back to—
Not now. He didn’t have time to go there. Focus was everything in situations like these.
“I’ll be okay,” he assured Abby.
“But . . .”
“Stay here.”
Bracing himself for a confrontation, Jaxon stepped outside. He closed the door behind him and put his hands on his hips as he watched the man in the distance.
The man certainly didn’t move like somebody who was threatening. He seemed to be on a leisurely stroll.
As he got closer, Jaxon noticed that he was probably in his early sixties. He saw the wrinkles on his face, his neat beard, and the salt-and-pepper hair beneath his hat. He reminded Jaxon more of a grandfather . . .
The man offered a smile. “Beautiful day out here, isn’t it?”
Jaxon remained on the porch, placing himself between the door and the man. “It sure is. A little breezy, though.”
The man chuckled and took another step closer, still not giving off any type of dangerous vibe. But Jaxon wouldn’t let his guard down yet.
“I’m looking for my dog. Name is Hunter, and he’s a chocolate lab. You seen him?”
“Sorry, I haven’t seen any dogs out here today.”
“Well, if you do see him, I’m staying at a cabin about a half a mile from here. He ran away from me when I let him out to go to the bathroom this morning, and he hasn’t come back since.”
“I’ll keep my eyes open,” Jaxon said.
The man nodded and tipped his hat. “Thanks, I appreciate it.”
Jaxon watched as the man walked away, continuing down the lake. No, he definitely didn’t seem threatening. So what was with Abby’s reaction?
He waited until the man was out of sight before going back inside. Jaxon’s gaze scanned his cabin.
Where had Abby gone? She was nowhere to be seen.
Alarm rushed through him. Had she run? Or had that man looped back around to find her?
Chapter Ten
Abby pressed herself against the wall in the closet, muttering prayers. Trying to count backward. Trying to do anything so that fear wouldn’t consume her.
What was happening out there? What if that man hurt Jaxon? What if he’d come inside now to finish her?
A moan escaped from her lips. How much longer could she live like this?
If the Executioner had his way, Abby wouldn’t have to worry about that much longer.
She pulled her arms closer and waited, listened.
Nothing.
Except . . . were those footprints?
Her heartbeats came faster, harder, louder.
What if it was the killer?
She glanced around, looking for something to defend herself with. There was nothing except some clothes hangers and a vacuum. But maybe . . .
She grabbed one of the attachments on the vacuum.
Just as the door opened, she raised it like a baseball bat and began to swing. A guttural cry escaped from her as she fought back, determined not to let this guy take her too easily.
“Whoa,” a deep voice muttered.
The man grabbed her wrists. In one motion, he’d subdued her. Taken away her defenses.
And now she was at his mercy.
Except . . . as the face came into view, she realized it wasn’t the Executioner.
“It’s just me,” Jaxon murmured. “You’re okay.”
She let out her breath so quickly that she nearly passed out. Only the wall behind her kept her upright. Jaxon took her arm and led her to the couch, his worried gaze on her.
As she settled on the cushions there, Abby’s eyes met Jaxon’s. “Sorry about that. I suppose I’m on edge.”
“It’s okay. That man was just looking for his dog. He’s gone now.”
Abby watched Jaxon’s expression, looking for any signs of irritation. She saw only a long, studious gaze. He clearly wanted answers she couldn’t give him.
“I suppose I need to call to have my car towed today, so I can get out of your hair.”
“You’re not in my hair. But I would be happy to call Lewy for you. He’s pretty much the only tow truck driver in town.”
“I appreciate that.” Abby ran a hand through her hair again. “Do you mind if I go clean myself up?”
He handed her a paper sack from the kitchen table. “I had my sister bring a few things over. I figured you would need some clothes and other supplies to get you by. Hopefully there’s something in there that you can use.”
“Thank you.” Abby took the bag from him, thankful for Jaxon’s thoughtfulness. “I really appreciate this.”
“Just head up the steps and you should be able to figure everything out in the apartment. Or, if you’d prefer, you can use my bathroom downstairs. It has a heated towel holder that’s pretty fantastic if I do say so myself.”
“I have never been able to resist a heated towel holder.” She flashed a smile. The truth was, the closer she was to Jaxon, the safer she felt.
“Help yourself. There’s a hair dryer beneath the sink also and clean towels in the cabinet.”
A few minutes later, Abby was under the steady spray of the shower. As she carefully washed her hair, her mind drifted back in time. Drifted to the moment she met Patrick.
It had been a year and a half ago. She was living in Georgia and running her bakery in the quaint downtown area of the Atlanta suburb where she lived. He was in Minnesota. They’d met online and had seemed like a perfect match. After talking on the phone and emailing for four months, they finally decided to meet face-to-face.
From the moment Abby had first laid eyes on Patrick, she’d been smitten. He was a former college football star, with a broad chest and a smile that could melt anyone’s heart. He worked in the tech world, and money never seemed to be an issue.
They’d talked nonstop. The two of them seemed to have so much in common that it seemed like the online website where they’d been introduced had some type of magic formula that had proved to be a smashing success.
After that first meeting, their phone calls had increased. They’d talked nearly every day. A month later, Patrick came to her hometown in Georgia. Abby had shown him around, taken him into her bakery, and introduced him to her friends. Everything seemed so perfect.
Despite the warm spray of the shower, Abby suddenly felt cold.
She and Patrick continued to meet like that over the next six months. Each time they met, her feelings became stronger and stronger until Abby thought that she’d eventually marry this guy.
They had talked about it. They had talked about what they would like their wedding to be like—on the beach. Maybe even Hawaii, with just a few family members and friends. They’d talked about their honeymoon—also in Hawaii. They’d even talked about how many kids they wanted—three was the perfect number, they’d agreed.
After years of being single, after being accused of being too picky, Abby finally felt like she had met her dream guy. Her patience had finally paid off.
She shut the water off and felt the remaining moisture trickle down her skin. As she did, she closed her eyes and lifted her head. What she wouldn’t give to go back in time. To know then what she knew today.
But life didn’t work like that, and now everything had been turned upside down.
Meeting Patrick had been the worst thing to ever happen to her.
He was the reason she was in this mess right now.
Jaxon put some bacon on the griddle and, while it sizzled, began cracking some eggs. He had to make breakfast for himself anyway, so why not make enough for both him and Abby? His guest needed to eat.
The incident from earlier today kept replaying in his mind. Abby was obviously shaken after everything that happened, and no one could blame her for that. It had been quite the ordeal she’d gone through. Seeing that stranger outside the cabin had nearly made her have a panic attack.
For a moment, Jaxon considered doing a Google search on her, but he changed his mind. Abby would tell him the truth about what was going on whenever she was ready.
As he began chopping some onions for an omelet, his phone rang. He looked down at the screen and smiled when he saw the number. He hit the speaker button, and his mom’s voice came over the line.
“Hello, Son, how are you doing?”
“Doing okay, Mom. How about you?”
“I’ve been busy with the renovations on the house, but otherwise I’m doing fine. Are we still on for lunch later today?”
With everything going on, it had slipped Jaxon’s mind. “Is there any way we could reschedule? Maybe until next week?”
They hadn’t missed once in the four months since he’d returned to town. They always chose a location in Pigeon Forge or Gatlinburg, away from the small-town gossips in Fog Lake. It allowed them a small amount of privacy.
“Of course. Is everything okay?”
He set down his knife and flipped the bacon. “Everything is fine. Something just came up that I need to address.”
“I’ll just check in next week, and we can look at our schedules then, okay?”
“Sounds good, Mom. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
As he ended the call, his heart pounded.
His brothers and sister didn’t know that he was still in contact with their mom. It was one of the reasons Jaxon felt like he had to leave seven years ago. His mom had betrayed the family so badly that his siblings said they would never forgive her. But, to Jaxon, his mom was his mom. He wanted her in his life, and he knew the power of forgiveness.
Still, he couldn’t tell his brothers or sister about it because he knew how they’d feel. Instead, he remained in the middle, pulled between both sides and empathizing with each opposing viewpoint.
He looked up as Abby stepped from the hallway. Her hair was dry and clean, and she wore some of Ansley’s old jeans and a flannel shirt. Abby was a very attractive woman. Slender. Petite. Long, silky hair. High cheekbones.
“You look like you’re a regular around here,” Jaxon said as he poured some eggs onto the skillet and listened as they cooked.
She tugged the red flannel shirt. “The clothes fit perfectly. Thank you.” She glanced at the food. “Can I help with anything?”
“Nope. I’ve got this covered.”
She took a seat on the barstool across from him and watched him. “You look like you know what you’re doing.”
“I always ended up being the designated cook around my friends. Breakfast became my specialty.” He added some veggies to the omelet.
“It smells great.”
He glanced up at her, wondering what she was like beyond the events of yesterday. “How about you? You like to cook?”
“Cook? Not so much. But I love baking.”
His honesty meter registered. This wasn’t one of her veiled truths, but she was being real with him now. “Is that right? What do you like to bake?”
“Cookies are my specialty. Sugar cookies with icing, for that matter.”
“You’ll have to make some before you leave if you have time. The previous owner left all kinds of baking supplies—bags and tips and pans. I stuck them up in a cabinet somewhere.”
She smiled. “I would love to. Funny enough, I actually went to college on a soccer scholarship.”
Another truth. He raised an eyebrow. “Did you?”
“That’s right. But I got into the habit of making cookies before our practices and matches. Unfortunately, I spent so much time in the kitchen that I was often late getting to where I needed to be. I ended up losing my scholarship. But I kept all my friends on the team. They kept coming back for the cookies, I suppose.” She smiled.
The action looked nice on her.
Jaxon couldn’t help but smile also. “If you’re going to get kicked off a soccer team, then cookies are good reason for it.”
“That’s what I always said. My dad didn’t quite feel the same way when I lost my scholarship.”
“I suppose I can see that also.”
He set a plate with bacon and an omelet in front of her. “I’m assuming you eat meat? I really shouldn’t assume these types of things these days.”
“I do. I love meat. And sugar. And flour. Lots of sugar and flour. I wish I didn’t.”
“Well, it hasn’t seemed to affect your weight so I think you’re doing okay.”
No, her weight seemed just fine. Not that Jaxon had noticed. But it was hard not to in those jeans and that shirt.
“How long have you been back here in Fog Lake?” Abby picked up her fork.
“About four months.”
“Did you decide not to reenlist?”
He swallowed hard, his food not quite as appetizing at the moment. “No, it was just time for me to get out. When you know, you know.”
“What have you been doing since you got out?” Abby took a bite of her omelet.
“Sometimes I help out my brother Boone in his store. I do some volunteer firefighting as well. I figure I have some time to sort things out. I have some money saved up, enough that I’ll be comfortable for a while.”
“It’s always good to have time to figure out what you want to do.”
They ate for a few minutes in silence. There was so much more that Jaxon wanted to ask, but he didn’t want to sound like he was interrogating her again. Why didn’t she have anyone in her life to help her? The woman was nice, personable, kind. It didn’t make sense.
His phone rang, and he saw Luke’s number.
“Excuse me for a minute.” Jaxon stepped away and put the phone to his ear. “What’s up?”
“Hey, I just got a call from Lewy about Abby’s car.”
Based on the sound of Luke’s voice, something hadn’t gone as planned. “Okay . . .”
“You’re going to want to come down to the station. Bring Abby with you.”
Chapter Eleven
Abby felt the anxiety churning in her stomach as she rode with Jaxon to the station. Apparently, the sheriff hadn’t given any more details about why he’d summoned them. Either that or Jaxon wasn’t sharing. What could have happened that Abby would be needed down at the sheriff’s?
Her gut told her it was something bad.
“It’s probably nothing to be nervous over.” Jaxon seemed to sense her anxiety.
She nodded but said nothing. It was kind of him to try to make her feel better, but nothing could make her feel more relaxed at this point.
A blur of scenic landscape passed the windows. Mountains lined the road, along with barren trees. Fog still settled in the crevices and near the lake, the clouds sometimes invading the road on this bleak day.
Jaxon pulled his truck in front of the station and put it in Park. As they stepped out, Abby paused on the sidewalk and glanced around.
What if the Executioner was here? What if he was watching her now? A chill swept over her.
Since she had no idea what the man’s face looked like, everyone seemed suspect. Plus, this man was smart. He always seemed to know what she was doing, when she was doing it, and what she would do next. It wouldn’t surprise her in the least if he had his eyes on her right now.
She shivered again at the thought.
Jaxon appeared beside her and placed his hand on the small of her back. His touch made Abby flinch—not because it was intrusive. It just surprised her.
Either Jaxo
n didn’t notice or he didn’t say anything. Instead, he led her inside the sheriff’s office. Sheriff Wilder greeted them with a stern glance and nodded that they should follow. Jaxon and Abby walked through the station to a back lot.
Every step made Abby’s stomach tighten even more. The beat-up sedan she’d borrowed from an old friend waited outside. Nothing looked amiss about it, at least from this angle. Abby could see that the tires were still flat, but the back window was intact and not shattered.
So why had Sheriff Wilder called her out here?
“When Lewy got there to tow your car this morning, a message had been left on the windshield,” Sheriff Wilder started.
Abby felt the blood drain from her face. “Is that right?”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
She and Jaxon followed the sheriff to the front of the vehicle. What she saw there made her head spin.
The word KILLER had been written in what appeared to be blood. Remnants of each letter dripped down the windshield, sending terror through anyone looking at it.
Abby got the message loud and clear. The Executioner was still here in town. He knew she was alive, and he was still looking for her, determined to spread his own brand of justice into her life.
“Any idea why someone would do this?” Sheriff Wilder turned to Abby, studying her face unapologetically.
Her mind raced. Maybe she should tell them. Tell them everything.
But she knew how things would change if she did that. People here wouldn’t look at her the same way, and she couldn’t blame them.
That was why she decided to stay silent on the matter.
“It must be the man who’s been coming after me.” She rubbed her throat, feeling the burn inside. “He goes by the Executioner.”
Disappointment—and skepticism—flooded the sheriff’s gaze. “You failed to mention anything about this earlier.”
“I know . . . and I’m sorry.”
He stared at her another moment before saying, “I’m going to need some more information on him.”
“Of course,” Abby said. “Anything you need.”
Line of Duty (Fog Lake Suspense Book 4) Page 5