Fatal Threat

by Valerie Hansen

  “That’s why we’re not going to their house,” Adam explained. “I want you to stay as far from Helen as possible.”

  “You won’t get any argument from me.” A shiver danced up her spine and the hair at the nape of her neck tingled. “If she hadn’t been hospitalized for exhaustion when my tires were slashed and my apartment painted red, I might think she was to blame.”

  Sara saw Adam start as if he’d received an electric shock from a cattle prod. He scowled. “Are you sure?”

  “Positive. I heard she’d been treated and looked it up, just to be certain.”

  “So, it did occur to you that the Babcocks could be harassing you, too.”

  “Of course. Particularly after Helen attacked me at the store. But like I said, she couldn’t have done it.” Watching Adam’s expression she added, “And I don’t think Will did it, either, okay? He’s a banker, for one thing. He has his career and reputation to consider.”

  “All right. If we assume you’re right, that means the last three Texans taken into custody drugged the dogs and tied up Kurt.”

  “Works for me.”

  “Not for me. It doesn’t explain who or what frightened them enough to run off.”

  Sara’s mouth felt like cotton. She struggled to swallow. “Maybe they heard us coming home.”

  “Not according to my brother. He’s sure they’d been gone for hours before we found him.”

  “If the gang heard someone coming then Kurt must have, too. What did he say about it?”

  “Just that he overheard muffled arguing. At first he thought it was coming from the same people who had taped him up. Later, after they’d gone, he suspected otherwise.”

  “That’s it? That’s all?”

  “Yeah.” Adam shrugged again. “Come on. Let’s go in the house. Mrs. K says she’s not coming back until the dust settles and it’s my turn to make supper.”

  Sara followed him but she wasn’t happy about the way he’d abruptly diverted their conversation. First he’d suggested more enemies, then he’d left her in limbo with no idea who her additional nemeses might be.

  Knowing your enemies was bad enough. Imagining additional threats around every corner and hidden in every shadow was nearly enough to drive her ’round the bend, as locals like to say. She was just plain tired. Tired of being scared. Tired of making excuses for innocent past actions. Tired of visualizing Vicki’s last breaths. And tired of wondering what was going to happen with regard to Adam.

  If she could be certain they’d come out of this mess unscathed and ready to start a new life—together—she knew she’d be able to cope with just about anything. Any enemy. Any nameless, faceless evil.

  But she didn’t know that, did she? Adam used to be a solicitous friend who had hugged and touched her without qualm. Now, he seemed to be avoiding her. And she missed him. He could be standing right next to her and she’d still miss him as long as he continued to act so aloof.

  Take my hand. Circle my shoulders with your strong arms. Guide me as we walk together. You don’t have to kiss me again. Just be with me, she thought, wishing she were brave enough to say all that aloud.

  Swiveling her head she scanned the yard between the back of the house and the barn. To her dismay, she almost wished some new threat would appear, something that would trigger Adam’s protective instincts once more and cause him to draw her closer.

  And then she realized how illogical she was being. To wish for danger was to complain about the divine guardianship she’d been receiving all along. She didn’t really want to manipulate Adam; she merely wanted him to go back to being her concerned friend. Or did she?

  Sara almost snorted in disgust. Prayers that Adam would stop viewing and treating her like an old buddy had been answered. She’d gotten exactly what she had asked for.

  I’m sorry, Father, she prayed silently. I was wrong about Adam. I was wrong about everything. Give me my friend back. Please?

  An unexpected gust of icy wind blew in from the northwest and made her shiver. She glanced at the sky and noted a new gathering of dark clouds. Her first thought was that nature was setting the scene for another attack. Or warning her that one was imminent. But that notion was foolish. Wasn’t it?

  Pausing two steps below Adam as he opened the kitchen door, Sara wondered if her imagination was running away with her or if she was truly still in danger. Her skin crawled. The fine hair on her arms prickled.

  Even the farm dogs were acting odd. Some circled the porch. Others sniffed the air as if they were expecting something. One began to bark, triggering all the others to join in.

  That was enough for Sara. She ran up the steps, pushed past Adam and beat him through the door. The trouble was, she didn’t stop there. Passing through the living room she pounded up the stairs to her room, shut the door and whipped the curtains closed.

  Now that she was safe in the darkening room she felt foolish. She also wasn’t ready to come out and go back downstairs. Not when she might be asked to explain herself.

  It hardly mattered whether her actions were based on a flesh-and-blood enemy or on her confusion about her relationship with Adam. Either way, all she wanted to do was pull the bedcovers over her head and hide like a frightened child.

  That wasn’t the way people of faith met challenges, she lectured herself as she stood there alone. Scripture said if God was for her, no one could stand against her. So why did she feel as if her whole world was about to implode?

  The only prayer she managed was, “God, help me.”

  TWENTY-ONE

  Adam asked his brother to fetch Sara at suppertime. The ploy worked. She joined them for the meal. Conversation was so stilted and sparse, however, the tension was palpable.

  Kurt did most of the talking, finally asking, “So, what’s wrong with you two? Did you have a fight or something?”

  Sara said, “No,” while Adam merely shook his head.

  “Great. Whatever.” Kurt scraped up the last of his potatoes and leftover chicken, pushed back from the table and took his plate to the sink. When the farm dogs began a fresh chorus he looked out the window. “We have company.”

  Adam was on his feet immediately, hand and arm extended in a silent order for Sara to stay where she was. It didn’t surprise him that she moved. What was a surprise was who their visitor turned out to be.

  “It looks like Will Babcock,” Kurt said.

  Sara pushed in beside him to peer out. “Really? Maybe he brought the journal.”

  “I told him to take it to the sheriff,” Adam grumbled, slamming out the back door and jogging to the fancy truck that had stopped between the house and barn.

  Another surprise awaited him there. Will had brought his mother along.

  Adam nodded at her to be polite, then focused on Will. “Did you get it?”

  “Yes.” Will stepped out and passed a slim notebook to Adam.

  As he did so, Helen sat still as a statue, eyes forward, spine stiff. Adam knew he should invite them in for coffee but ignored pleasantries. The last thing they needed was for Helen to lose control and attack Sara again. It was bad enough that Will had brought her in the first place.

  “I think I found the references you wanted,” Will said. “Mother understands that it will help convict the men who hurt my sister.”

  Glancing past him, Adam studied Helen. She seemed to be coping. She looked stalwart but not violent. Will was speaking but between the barking of the dogs and thunder booming from the clouds, it was hard to hear what he had to say.

  Will winced as lightning flashed. “Can we go in for a second so I can show you?”

  Adam wanted to deny the request. Once he and Sara had a chance to read Vicki’s thoughts for themselves they would surely come to the same conclusions. So would the sheriff. Nevertheless, he supposed it wouldn’t hurt if Will stepped into the kitchen. Seeing and interac
ting with him might actually soothe Sara. Besides, only fools stood outside when there was a thunderstorm in the offing.

  Adam eyed the truck, hoping Will understood his unspoken question.

  He did. “Mom wants to stay out here. She just came along to keep an eye on this.” He tapped the hard cover of the journal. “It was the only way she’d let me take it out of the house.”

  “You know who else is inside, right?”

  Will turned away from his mother and nodded. “I know. And I want to apologize to her, too.”

  “All right.” Adam led the way. “If you’re sure Helen will be okay out here by herself. It’s fixing to rain.”

  “We talked about that on the drive out here. She isn’t ready to socialize but she’ll be safe and dry in the cab of the truck. I thought it would do her good to be part of the solution to the mystery of my sister’s passing.”

  Drops the size of nickels were beginning to dot the porch. Adam opened the door and gave it a push. “After you.”

  * * *

  Sara stayed by the sink, leaning against the counter for support. Since Adam had obviously invited Will in, he must think it was for the best, yet she had misgivings.

  Will didn’t smile but he did nod to her. “Sara. I want you to know how sorry I am for blaming you. I finally read every word my sister wrote for myself. It’s clear other forces were at work—providing her death wasn’t accidental the way we first thought.”

  Her lips were dry, her throat constricted with emotion. She managed to say, “Thank you,” before tears choked away more words.

  The men carried the familiar journal to the kitchen table and opened it. Will pointed. “Here. And here. She even names names, although she says the proof is hidden in some office, wherever that is.”

  Sara cleared her throat. “It was washed away in the flood. That’s why Vicki insisted on going out that night. She wanted to bring back the signed receipts. I tried to talk her out of it.” Again, her voice broke.

  “We know,” Adam said flatly. “Let me read this, then we’ll talk about it.”

  Rather than be upset, Sara was thankful for his interruption. Retelling that awful night made the loss fresh, made her ache almost as badly as she had at the time. Instead of arguing, she took a couple of deep, settling breaths and thanked God for the answers they were now receiving. The criminals could be prosecuted. Vicki’s findings would help prove their guilt and they’d be sent to prison. Hopefully, even more of them would pay the price than were currently cooling their heels in the tiny Paradise jail.

  A new calm enveloped her, wrapping her in a cocoon of healing and pouring warmth over her head in a soothing cascade of peace. Soon all her trials would be over. The threats would be removed and she could go back to the uncomplicated life she’d once taken for granted.

  Sara smiled to herself. And when she did go home, she wouldn’t be alone. She’d have a new pet. One of the darling striped kittens would go with her. So sweet. So precious and cuddly—when they kept their claws sheathed.

  The smile widened. Sighing with contentment she turned toward the kitchen window and imagined those beautiful, blue-eyed babies tucked in between their favorite bales of hay.

  Eyes wide she blinked, disbelieving. Gasped. No! No! It couldn’t be. She had to be hallucinating. Her jaw dropped open. Choking, gulping air, she pointed. Seconds later she managed to yell, “Fire!”

  * * *

  Adam was moving before the others finished processing the warning. He shouted, “Call 9-1-1,” to Kurt as he burst out the door, sailed off the porch and splashed through the rain and mud toward the glow.

  There was one fire extinguisher mounted by the entrance and another back where they kept the tack. A quick assessment told him that the second unit was already inaccessible. Adam grabbed the closer one, inverted it and started to attack the base of the fire.

  That hotspot was almost out when he noticed other starts within the wooden structure. This was no accidental fire. This was arson. How many gang members had they missed arresting?

  Continuing to beat back the flames he shouted to Kurt, “Get the horses out! I’ll try to hold this.”

  Kurt snapped lead ropes on two mares’ halters and started to lead them to safety. Adam saw him pass those leads to Will as soon as the flames were behind them, then go back for more.

  Will? Helen! Where was Helen? Will Babcock was in the clear because he’d been in the house. Had his mother been sitting in his truck when they’d run past just now? Adam had been so focused on putting out the fire he hadn’t noticed.

  Kurt started to pass him again, leading a mare with a foal. The baby panicked and ran the wrong way, scattering chickens and making his dam go berserk. Kurt hung onto the rope. The mare reared, lifting him off the ground.

  Knowing that the extinguisher was nearly out of chemicals and there was no possible way he could get the fire under control by himself, Adam tossed it aside and went to his brother’s aid. He smacked the mare on her rump and she ran for safety with her foal and a flock of hens at her heels.

  “How many more?” Adam shouted.

  “Two!”

  “Okay, you take the stallion.” A brief glance out the door showed Sara, her hair plastered down by rain, holding on to the mare’s halter and trying to soothe her as she urged her and the foal farther away.

  Gratitude toward God swelled, bringing more tears to Adam’s stinging eyes than the smoke already had. A barn could be rebuilt. Loved ones were irreplaceable. When all this was over...

  “I got ’em both,” Kurt shouted. He passed one of the lead ropes to his brother. “Let’s get out of here!”

  Adam was all for that. Some fires were impossible to defeat, even when professionals tackled them. Had he had his engine and enough water at the outset, he figured he could have squelched the flames. By now, it was too late to save the barn.

  Sirens in the distance gave him some hope. So did the rain. It had become a deluge, pounding the metal roof as if a hundred men with hammers were up there swinging as hard and as fast as they could. He hurried out the door to where everyone else waited.

  Suddenly, a figure passed him at a run and disappeared into the billowing smoke. He wouldn’t have been positive who it was if he hadn’t heard her screech, “My kittens!”

  * * *

  Sara had been in the barn often enough to navigate it blind. She knew to stay low, as much beneath the layer of smoke as possible. It wasn’t necessary to crawl—yet—but it wouldn’t be long before the good air near the floor was all there was left.

  She made straight for the hidey-hole, hoping the kittens hadn’t fled deeper into the stack where she’d never find them in time. Coughing, she bent to reach into the slit, mindless of scratches from the dry stems. Her fingers touched softness. She hooked two fingers around the kitten’s head and gently lifted, the way its mother would. That one she tucked into a jacket pocket for safekeeping while she probed again.

  “Come on, babies. You know me. Please?” she cooed, reaching and patting with her hand. A paw? Was that a paw? It had withdrawn but she was certain it had been there. Dropping to her knees with her chest lying on the lowest bale, she reached as far as she could. Normally she wouldn’t have grabbed the kitten by one leg but this was a matter of life and death.

  Sara hauled it out, set it on the bale so they were nose to nose and reassured it gently. “That’s right, baby. You’re okay. Come on. Let’s go in my pocket with your brother or sister.”

  Except two wouldn’t fit securely, she discovered, transferring the second little cat to the opposite side and hoping both would stay put until she located the third.

  Once again she bent down. Something tangled in her wet hair. Yanked so hard she yelped. “Ow!”

  What in the world? Was she caught on a hay hook or some other discarded tool? Sara twisted and reached for her scalp.

  T
here was a hand clenched there; bony fingers that felt like the talons of a bird of prey. Only it wasn’t. It was human. And the human was screaming as if being scorched by the encroaching flames.

  Sara grabbed the wrist. Held as tightly as she could and lurched up toward it, putting her whole body behind the move. She heard a crack. The fingers released her. Now her assailant was howling.

  Strong hands grabbed Sara’s shoulders from behind and lifted her. She struggled. “No!”

  Through reddened, smarting eyes she saw Will picking up his mother. Adam had hold of Sara. He swung her into his arms and whirled, racing for the door in a bent-over stance.

  All she could think of was the last kitten. As soon as Adam set her on her feet outside the burning barn she checked her pockets and withdrew the two she had rescued. “There’s one more,” she wailed, focusing on Adam. “I didn’t get them all!”

  His hesitation was brief. In moments he had spun and reentered the barn. The fire had reached the rafters by now and was licking out the top of the door with red and orange tongues of superheated flame.

  Sara gasped. “Adam!” What had she done? He’d never have taken a chance like that if she hadn’t yelled at him.

  Behind her, a Paradise fire engine was engaging their pump. Firefighters in full gear ran toward the fire. A nozzle blossomed, showering the open door with a mist that steamed and sizzled, fogging the interior.

  “Adam!” Sheltering the kittens inside her jacket Sara wept openly. Every thought was of the man she loved, every word an echo of his name. “A-dam!”

  He couldn’t be gone. Not her Adam. Not when she had finally admitted how much she loved him. At that moment it didn’t matter whether he loved her or not. All she wanted was to see him again, to know he had survived.

  Tears clouded her vision. She lifted her face to heaven and let the rain wash away her weeping as she clasped her hands and silently pled for his life.

  Smoke was replaced by the steam as firefighters continued to shower the open doorway. A shadow moved. Took shape. It was Adam. He was staggering but alive.