by Elle James
Sitting in the Jeep wouldn’t get her inside the cabin. She needed to see what was there. Granted, she wouldn’t go inside if the doors were locked. That would be breaking and entering, and she wasn’t going to violate a law to get a good look. That’s what windows were for.
If she thought it was worth further investigation, she’d have the sheriff come out and take a look inside. He could go through the trouble of getting a warrant to search the property.
Jenna pushed open her door and slid out of the driver’s seat onto ground spongy with moss. Thankfully, she wore sturdy boots. Too often, she had to hike around properties, showing potential clients what the land had to offer. Since Eagle Rock was tucked into the foothills of the Crazy Mountains, that means she had to deal with all types of terrain from open fields to craggy bluffs and boulder-strewn ravines.
With a great awareness of her surroundings, her ears perked to any sound, Jenna approached the cabin and climbed the steps to the rickety porch. As she placed her foot on the top step, the board gave against her weight and split.
She grabbed at the post beside her, which held her weight, preventing her from falling through the rotted board.
Her heart pounding against her ribs, she pulled herself upright and tested the boards of the porch before placing her faith and her full weight on them. The porch held.
As she approached the windows, she realized they weren’t dark from dirt and grime, but shadowy because they’d been covered from the inside with black sheeting.
A trickle of fear slithered down the back of Jenna’s neck.
Why would the owner cover the windows with dark sheeting? Or had he? A squatter wouldn’t want anyone to see inside a house he was illegally occupying.
Jenna reached for the doorknob and gave it a gentle twist.
She let out a sigh when the handle didn’t budge. Going in wasn’t an option. The longer she was there, the creepier the cabin seemed.
Her instinct was to leave the property, climb into her Jeep and go home to a hot shower, a cup of hot cocoa and a romantic comedy DVD to chase away the heebie-jeebies this place was giving her.
She picked her way down the steps, avoiding the broken one and reached the ground safely. Halfway to her Jeep, she stopped.
The front windows were covered, which made sense, since anyone driving up to the house would see them first. She couldn’t leave without checking out the back windows. What kind of investigator was she if she didn’t give the cabin a complete three-hundred-sixty-degree look?
Jenna pulled her gun out of her holster, flicked the safety off and held it out in front of her. She was alone…but not thoughtless. The cabin was just the kind of place those women who were too stupid to live walked into in one of those horror movies she refused to watch. She’d lived her own horror movie married to Corley Ferguson. What hadn’t killed her had made her much stronger. She’d replace fear with action.
Well, most of the fear. Right now, a little fear was healthy. It made all of her senses hyper-aware. She listened to every sound, every creak of the cabin settling, branches rubbing against each other and squirrels racing from the ground to a tree and back to the ground.
As she rounded the moss-covered north end of the cabin, she studied the woods bordering what was left of the yard. No movement, nothing making sounds that shouldn’t be there. Yet, she felt as if someone were watching her. For a long moment, she stared into the shadows beneath the trees.
Nothing moved. Nobody emerged.
Keeping a watch through her peripheral vision, Jenna eased around the corner of the building to the back of the cabin. The windows here were harder to see into. The back of the cabin didn’t have the same porch as the front.
Jenna leaned up on her tiptoes. The windows in the back didn’t have the same dark sheeting covering them, but all she could see was the ceiling from her angle. An old set of wooden stairs led up to the back door, beckoning her to at least try the back door.
Praying it was locked, she eased up the steps, careful to test the boards before putting her full weight on them. Reaching the top without falling through was the first hurdle.
When she tried the door handle, it didn’t turn.
Jenna breathed a sigh and was about to let go of the handle when the door inched open.
Her breath caught and held in her lungs as she nudged the door wider, her gun held in front of her, her pulse hammering so hard against her eardrums, she couldn’t hear herself think.
Nothing moved in the house, but the door swung wide now on creaking hinges.
She should have pulled the door closed and left in that very moment. Because she’d let go of the doorknob, she now had to enter the cabin to reach it. When she stepped inside, her gaze swept what had once been a living area. The floor had been made of solid planks of wood that had stood the test of time. The walls were a dark, wood paneling reminiscent of 1970’s décor.
What drew her attention was the single wooden armchair set in the middle of the plank flooring. The chair itself wasn’t what made her stare. It was the ropes tied to the chair that made her blood run cold through her veins.
In front of the chair was what appeared to be a car battery and a set of jumper cables.
Jenna stepped into the room, the gun shaking in her hand. She crossed to the chair and stared down at a dark stain on the chair’s arms. When she stepped back, her boots stuck slightly to the floor in something sticky.
She glanced down. A patch of something dark covered the floor, and splatters of droplets of the sticky stuff spread out around the chair.
Blood.
Sweet Jesus. Someone had been tortured here. That could be the only explanation for what she saw.
Her heartbeat raced as she backed out of the cabin and ran down the steps. She had to get to the sheriff and let him know.
As she rounded the north corner of the house, she heard the sound of engines coming up the drive.
She slowed as she reached the corner of the cabin and peeked around the edge.
Two motorcycles drove up and parked beside her Jeep. The men driving them wore black clothing and black helmets. They appeared to be studying her Jeep, then both of their heads turned toward the cabin.
Jenna ducked back behind the corner, her heart pounding. Those men could be the ones who’d tortured someone in the cabin. If they found her…
She couldn’t get to her car, not with them standing there. With no time to plan, she ran to the back of the house and kept running deep into the woods.
A shout sounded behind her.
Jenna dared to look back.
The two men dressed in black had shed their helmets but wore black ski masks. They were running toward her.
Jenna ran faster, leaping over deadfall, zigzagging through the trees. She had training in self-defense, but her training would be useless against two hulking men. One-on-one, maybe. She wasn’t prepared to fight off two men. And she might only get a chance to shoot one before the other caught up to her.
She wasn’t going to wait around to find out what they would do to her if they caught her. She ran as fast as she could, going deeper into the shadowy woods.
When she couldn’t run another step, and her lungs felt like they might burst, she slowed to a stop and ducked behind a tree, breathing so hard, she didn’t hear the footsteps until too late.
A hand clamped over her mouth, and she was dragged to the ground and shoved beneath a bush.
She struggled to free herself, but the weight of the man holding her down trapped her beneath him and cut off the air to her lungs. She couldn’t move and couldn’t scream for help.
Chapter 2
Jenna lay face down, crushed beneath a man who smelled like an animal, musky and dirty. She could barely breathe, and movement was impossible. She squirmed but couldn’t manage more than to barely rock the body lying on top of her.
All her self-defense training came back to her in that moment, but none of it would work unless she could free something…an arm…
a leg…anything she could use to throw her attacker off guard.
The sounds of more footsteps pounding through the woods toward them made her go still and listen.
The man on top of her whispered a soft, “Shh.” His breath was rank, nearly making her gag.
He’d tackled her and rolled her beneath a bush to the side of the animal trail she’d been following through the forest.
As the footsteps grew nearer, Jenna could see the legs of the men running toward them. Men in black boots and pants ran past.
Jenna’s heart skipped several beats when she realized they were carrying what appeared to be military-grade semi-automatic rifles. She held her breath, praying they would keep going.
Thankfully, they continued on until the sounds of their footsteps faded.
Once she could no longer hear them, the man on top of her rolled to the side and sat up.
Jenna dragged in deep breaths, bunched her legs beneath her and shot to her feet.
The man who’d knocked her down and rolled her beneath him pushed to his feet. He wore an old pair of overalls and a bulky jacket over them. His beard was long, gray and scraggly, and his hair was also long, gray and unkempt, like it hadn’t been cut in a very long time.
He held a finger to his lips. Then he pointed in the direction the two men in black had run. He cupped a hand to his ear and tilted his head to the side, his eyes widening.
That’s when Jenna heard a shout and the pounding of footsteps crushing leaves and sticks as the two men headed back in their direction.
She glanced around, desperate to find a place to hide.
The bearded man dropped down and scooted back beneath the bush they’d hidden beneath when the pair had run past minutes before. He waved frantically for her to follow him, a frown denting his brow.
Knowing she couldn’t outrun the men in black, Jenna had to choose between this stranger and the two men.
She chose the stranger who’d hidden her the first time. Jenna dove beneath the bush.
Her rescuer, pushed leaves up in front of them to hide them from view.
Once again, the men in black came into view, still wearing the ski masks. Anyone who ran through the woods wearing ski masks that covered their faces couldn’t be up to any good. They slowed to a swift walk, their heads turning right and left as if they were scanning the trees and underbrush, looking for something, or in this case, someone.
Her.
Jenna lay as flat against the ground as she could, afraid to breathe. The man closest to where they were hidden carried his rifle in his left hand.
Something about his left wrist caught Jenna’s attention. A tattoo? She squinted, hoping to identify it. It looked like an elaborate snake, or maybe a dragon wrapped around his wrist. She couldn’t be sure.
And then he was past her.
Though it only took about five seconds for the men to pass, it seemed an eternity as Jenna hid in the woods with a bearded stranger.
Several minutes after the men in black disappeared down the trail, the bearded mountain man stirred, climbing out from beneath the brush. He held out a dirt-smeared hand to Jenna.
She placed her hand in his, and he brought her to her feet then let go.
Fully ready to defend herself against this one man, Jenna was relieved when the mountain man turned and started to walk away.
Relief rushed through her until she realized she would be left alone in the woods, with two men standing in the way of her reaching her Jeep.
The mountain man turned and beckoned her to follow.
She hesitated for a moment. No way could she go back to her Jeep. Not now. Not without backup from the sheriff and half a dozen highly trained law enforcement personnel.
Jenna couldn’t remain alone in the woods, and she wouldn’t be able to cut through to the road without risking getting lost or being found by the men in black. With nowhere else to turn and no one else she could trust, she set off after the bearded mountain man. If he was going to harm her, surely he would already have tried. Instead, he’d saved her from discovery by the two evil-looking men who could very well be the people who’d tortured some poor individual to the point he’d bled all over the cabin floor.
Jenna shivered. Who had they tortured? Had he survived? Why would someone do that? What kind of animal would do such a thing?
And was she insane to follow a perfect stranger into the woods?
Putting her faith in the kindness he’d already displayed by saving her, she followed the older man. “Hey,” she whispered as she caught up to him. “Who are you?”
The man ducked his head, refusing to meet her gaze.
She gave him a tentative smile. “I’d like to know the name of the man who saved me so I can thank him properly.”
Still, the old man refused to make eye contact, and he didn’t respond.
Jenna grabbed his arm and brought him to a stop. “I need to know who you are. I can’t follow a stranger into the woods.”
The man met her gaze briefly and looked away, clearly uncomfortable with her in his personal space. He pulled free of her hold and walked away.
He didn’t turn to motion for her to follow.
“I don’t know where I am,” she said, hurrying to catch up to him. “You wouldn’t leave me out here alone, would you?”
He shook his head but refused to make a sound.
The mountain man continued through the woods without slowing to see if she kept up.
An hour later, when Jenna thought they would never stop walking, the mountain man came to a halt at what appeared to be a trail leading east.
He pointed to her and then to the trail and waved his hands in a motion indicating she should follow the trail.
Jenna frowned. “Aren’t you going with me?”
He shook his head and motioned for her to go.
“But I don’t know where I am,” she protested.
The mountain man pointed at her chest, and then gave her the okay signal.
“I’m going to be okay?” she asked.
He nodded and waved her toward the path.
“But what about you?” she asked. “Won’t you go with me?”
He shook his head and backed away.
Hesitant to leave the man, and unsure about where he was sending her, Jenna hesitated.
She glanced at the trail. It disappeared into the woods.
What if she got lost? What if the two men in black appeared and tried to hurt her?
“I’d rather go with you,” she said and turned back to the mountain man.
He was gone.
Chapter 3
After loading the four-wheelers onto the trailer, Bastian drove the truck into town in search of Sheriff Barron.
He pulled up to the side of the road in front of the sheriff’s office, not wanting to get stuck in the parking lot with a trailer in tow.
Angus and Bastian climbed down from the truck and entered the office.
“Can I help you?” a deputy asked from behind the front counter.
Angus stepped forward. “We’d like to see Sheriff Barron.”
“Angus, Sebastian, what brings you to my office?” Sheriff Barron stepped out of an office behind the front desk and approached them with his hand held out.
Angus shook his hand, then Bastian.
“We were out at the cave where William Reed’s body was found,” Angus started.
“And someone shot at us,” Bastian finished.
The sheriff pulled a note pad out of his pocket. “Give me all the details.”
Bastian told him what had happened, and Angus described the man on the dirt bike.
“Can you describe the bike?” the sheriff asked.
Angus shook his head. “At first, he was so far away I couldn’t tell if it was a certain color. When I got closer, his bike was spitting up so much dust, it was all I could do to keep up without falling off a cliff.”
“Any idea what kind of weapon he used?”
“He was at a pretty good di
stance. He had to have used a rifle with a scope to hit me,” Angus said, his hand going to the wound on his arm.
“You need to have that seen by a doctor. Did the bullet lodge in the wound?” the sheriff asked, his brow furrowing as he studied Angus’s arm.
“No, sir,” Angus said. “It just scraped my arm.”
“Go to the clinic and have them treat it. I’ll have my deputies check around with some of the local dirt bike riders.”
“Yeah, good luck with that,” Bastian said. “If it’s like when we were teens, there’s a lot of those around. Not much else to do but hunt, and it’s not hunting season.”
“Unless you’re hunting people,” Angus muttered.
“Have you heard anything else regarding our father’s missing persons case?” Bastian asked.
The sheriff shook his head. “Nothing. The trail has gone cold since you found your father’s ring. We have the FBI checking into the lead your friend Hank Patterson gave us on the corporation that fed into Alex Tremont’s bank account. Seems Tremont was the accountant for some pretty shady characters.”
“And he paid the ultimate price for it,” Angus said.
“Speaking of Alex, how’s his widow doing?” the sheriff asked. “I hear she’s engaged to your brother Colin.”
Bastian nodded. “They announced their plan to marry soon.”
“I remember the three of them were inseparable during high school. I’m glad Emily has someone to look after her. She’s too nice a girl to have been caught up in all that trouble her husband was into.”
“Colin will make sure she’s safe,” Angus said. “Could you let us know what you find out about the dirt bike shooter, if you’re able to find anything?”
“You bet.” The sheriff followed them out of the office onto the sidewalk out front. “We haven’t given up on finding your father. I’ve had my deputies checking out hunting cabins, abandoned mines and some of the caves out in the hills.” He shrugged. “We’re looking, but there’s so much territory to cover.”
“We understand.” Bastian turned toward his truck and frowned.
A woman walked toward the sheriff’s office, limping slightly, her hair a mess, with leaves and twigs sticking out of the strands. He almost didn’t recognize her with the smudges of dirt on her cheeks and chin. When he did, he hurried forward.
