But Amy was terrified for Cain. It was entirely possible that he could die trying to defend the bitch who’d caused all this trouble. If only Sheridan had gone home….
Deciding to radio her brother from the car, she held up a hand to protect herself from the branches that scratched at her face as she ran. But when she reached the road, a dark figure darted out of the trees ahead of her.
Heart pounding, she raised her gun and placed her finger on the trigger. If it meant saving herself or Cain, she could kill without a doubt. But in that split second the moonlight hit the man’s face and she recognized him.
“It’s you,” she said, holstering her gun in relief. “Damn, you scared me. What are you doing out here?”
He lifted the rifle he was carrying. “Probably the same thing you are. Cain called me about half an hour ago. Said he’d heard a strange noise. I came to help him check it out.”
Breathing a huge sigh of relief, she studied the surrounding land. “Why didn’t you call me?”
“I thought we could handle it.”
“You haven’t seen anything?”
He leaned his gun against her car. “No. And I’ve scoured this whole place. If somebody was here, they’re gone now.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Why not?”
She rested her hand on the butt of her gun as she continued to eye the trees. “He nearly hit me a few minutes ago.”
“You’re kidding!”
“I wish I was. We have to keep searching.” The sooner they apprehended whoever it was, the sooner Sheridan might be satisfied and go back to California.
“Then let’s go.”
He shoved off from the car and came toward her.
She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could say anything he grabbed her and yanked her back, pulling her pistol from its holster. Then he pressed the barrel to her temple.
“What’re you doing?” She tried to resist, but it was useless. He was too strong. “Stop it! You—you’re scaring me. This isn’t funny.”
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
The anguish in his voice terrified her. But this had to be a joke. He wouldn’t really shoot her—he wouldn’t shoot anyone. “Let go!”
“I can’t. Say your prayers, Amy.”
Tears scalded her eyes. “But…I—I don’t understand. W-why are you doing this?”
“Because you’re in the wrong place at the wrong time,” he said and pulled the trigger.
14
The crack of gunfire made Cain halt in his tracks. What was the reason for that shot? It wasn’t aimed at him; it hadn’t come from anywhere nearby. And it hadn’t come from the direction of the house. Both of these facts brought him comfort—but not complete relief. Someone was still out there. Someone with a gun, and this time it hadn’t sounded like a rifle.
Following the sound, he hurried through the woods, but when he reached the road he saw nothing unusual. Amy’s car was there, but that was all.
With his rifle ready, he stepped cautiously beyond the cover of the trees, into the open. Silence. No movement or light or sound except for a sluggish wind that caused a dry leaf to skitter across the ground. He seemed to be the only person here. But he was positive that shot had come from this direction.
What was going on? Backing up so he could keep an eye out in case someone tried to surprise him, he felt the rear panel of the cruiser on the driver’s side, then took two more steps and opened the door.
The keys hung in the ignition, but the cabin light revealed nothing other than an empty car. Everything looked just as it should—until he closed the door and crept to the front. Then he could make out the shape of a person lying on the ground about ten feet away, partially in the road, partially in the underbrush. And from the dark pant-legs of a police uniform, he knew exactly who it was.
Cain rushed back to the house. He wasn’t leaving Sheridan alone, unable to defend herself or even run, the dogs out cold. He couldn’t do anything for Amy; he’d already checked. She’d been shot in the head at close range and the bullet had probably killed her instantly.
Whoever had shot her had to be covered in blood, which meant he couldn’t go unnoticed.
Or maybe he could. It was dark. All he had to do was slink off somewhere and wash up.
Cain wanted to search for the bastard before he could get away, but without his dogs he could tramp around the forest all night and find nothing. He couldn’t risk the possibility that the culprit hadn’t run away and was, right now, making another attempt on Sheridan’s life.
“Cain! Cain, where are you?”
It was her. He could hear her calling him before he reached the clearing.
“Get in the house!” he shouted, but she was so unsteady on her feet he caught up with her before she managed to climb the porch steps. She was clomping around in his boots, which were way too big for her, and dragging his tranq gun.
“Why the hell are you out here?” he snapped. He was angry she’d made herself such an easy target. But he didn’t wait for her answer. He grabbed her around the waist with one arm, carried her the last few yards to the house, and slammed the door behind them. Then he turned the dead bolt, brought her into his bedroom and sat her on the floor next to him, where he might be able to protect her. At least in the bedroom he had only one window to worry about and he could use the bed as a barrier.
“Did you call the police?” he asked.
“Y-yes.” She was ghost-white and shaking. Was she in shock? It had to be much too soon to deal with something so traumatic.
“Where’d you find my tranq gun?”
“On the—the ground, at the edge of the clearing.”
He took it and checked it over. His first thought was that he’d arm Sheridan, too, but it was out of darts. “Shit.”
“What?”
“Nothing. Everything’s going to be fine.” He still had his rifle.
“You c-call this f-fine?” she said, laughing a little hysterically.
“Let me clarify. We have a weapon, and I’ll use it if I have to.”
The minutes passed with no noise from outside. Fairly certain that whoever it was had fled, he finally lowered his rifle and took one of her hands. It was ice-cold. “Are you okay?”
“The dogs…the dogs are dead.” She sounded like she was hyperventilating. “I saw them—”
“No, they’re just drugged. They’ll be okay when it wears off.”