She bit her tongue until she could keep her voice placid. Her lungs fought her but she kept breathing smoothly. “I’m not playing games, Jack. Are you watching me?” What was he doing in northern Idaho? How long had he been there? Was Quint in danger? Was she?
“I am not spying on you. But you don’t think you’re going to start dating a mountain man, do you? Get serious, Heather. You and I belong together. You know that. Don’t make me show you.”
Bile rolled around in her belly. “If you keep bothering me, I will call the police.” She ended the call and set the phone next to her on the sofa.
Then she waited.
After about fifteen minutes, she stood and double-checked that the doors and windows were all locked, hopping around the house. Then she chose several knives from the kitchen and went to her bedroom, locking that door and stashing the knives where she could get to them easily.
Then she shook her head. Maybe she was a little paranoid.
Even so, she got settled onto her knees to push a dresser in front of the door, knowing she wouldn’t get a second of sleep until she got it into place. Her cast rested on the wooden floor, and she was careful not to twist her injured ankle while pushing with her arms and torso. Then she grasped the side of the dresser and pulled herself up.
What about the window?
It faced the fenced back yard, trees, and quiet creek. A bar attached to the base kept it from being forced open. If Jack somehow tried to break the glass, she’d awaken for sure. Although she needed to get her hands on a gun.
Was she overreacting?
Probably.
But she’d rather be safe than sorry. She looked at the phone she’d placed on her bedside table. The urge to call Quint was overwhelming, and not just because he’d probably kiss her again. Although if Jack had gone nutty, she was placing Quint in danger by just hanging out with him.
She needed to stop watching Stalker Snapped on the crime channel. Her imagination was going too wild. Jack was an ass who had a big ego she’d dented, and he was just messing with her. Although, either he was having her watched, or he actually was in town, so his actions had elevated him to a threat. Maybe a dorky one, but sometimes people went crazy.
Was she being stalked, or was she overreacting? Either way, Jack hadn’t done anything yet that she could put in a police report. Unless following her to Silverville counted, and she doubted that was enough. Even so, she’d go down to the station in the morning and file a preliminary report or whatever they were called. Just in case.
Yeah. She really did have to stop watching true crime shows.
After she got a gun.
Chapter 8
Quint reached his cabin and sighed at seeing the woman sitting on the front porch swing his mama had insisted he install. The eaves protected her from the falling snow. Zena looked up from the passenger seat, and her tail didn’t wag. “I know. I should’ve listened to you,” he murmured, opening his door and letting the dog jump to the ground. His body was on fire from kissing Heather, and his temper wasn’t far behind.
Even so, he calmly shut his door and strode up his snowy walk. His Christmas lights were on and sparkling since he’d scheduled them on a timer. “Jolene? Why are you on my front porch?”
She’d wrapped herself in a heavy jacket, but her nose was red from the chilly evening. “I wanted to talk to you. You’re home later than I expected.” There was a clear question in the statement.
He shoved his hands in his pockets. “We don’t have anything to talk about on a Sunday night. I really don’t want to be featured in the newspaper.” Chasing glory wasn’t something he’d ever tried, even when he’d been a pretty good running back in high school and college. It was the strategy and joy of the game he’d loved. Now he loved fighting nature and outmaneuvering fires to help people. “You have to understand me that much.”
“I understand you well enough.” She stood and pushed away from the swing. “Are you going to ask me inside or not?”
“No, but I will walk you to your car.” He glanced to see it parked on the side of his metal shop near the trees and out of the way. “Let’s go.”
She pouted her bright red lips and strode down the three wooden steps to stand in front of him. “I have a better idea. How about bourbon by the fireplace…inside?”
He fully planned to have a bourbon by the fire after she was on her way. “Come on.” He turned with his hands still in his pockets to walk to her car, keeping his stride short so she could keep up in the heels.
She tottered next to him and slid her hand between his arm and his ribcage to hold on. “You’re mean.”
He sighed and kept walking. “No, I’m not. You wrote a hit piece on my cousin based on something I told you confidentially, and that ended things for us.” Not that they’d been going anywhere, anyway. While he liked ambitious people, Jolene didn’t care who she hurt, and he couldn’t get on board with that.
“We’re still friends, aren’t we?” She pressed closer to him, and her breast brushed his upper arm.
“Not really.” He’d learned a long time ago not to play games with women. Except chess. Did Heather play chess? He enjoyed the strategy of the game. She’d probably be pretty good at it.
Jolene huffed out air. “Fine. I’m sorry I wrote that story about Anna, but it was all true.”
“True and slanted in a way to hurt her. What’s your problem with Anna?” Quint reached the car and opened the driver’s side door for her, wiping snow off the window with his hand.
“She makes for a good story,” Jolene admitted, not looking at him.
Quint didn’t care if Jolene still had the hots for Aiden because that guy was so wrapped up in Anna he couldn’t see straight. In fact, Quint could feel a little sorry for him because Anna’s life was anything but calm. Ever. “You might want to leave her alone,” he suggested. “You and Aiden dated for a short time way back in high school, and you should leave the past where it belongs.”
Jolene scoffed. “Please. I’m not writing stories about Anna because of Aiden. It’s because of Anna.”
Yeah, Quint could see that, too. “All right. Drive carefully home. This snow is only going to get thicker and the roads are already icy.”
She released him and turned fully into him, her hands sliding up his chest. “I have a much better idea.”
The wrong woman had her hands on him. He knew it without a doubt, and he was going to have to figure that out by himself at the fire.
Zena barked from the porch. Yeah, he definitely should’ve taken his cue from his dog. She’d never liked Jolene.
Quint gently extracted himself.
Zena barked louder.
That was odd. A truck rumbled up the drive, and Quint’s instincts kicked in. He grabbed Jolene around the waist and threw them both over the hood of her car as bullets exploded against the metal. They landed on the snow-covered gravel, and pain burst through his elbow. She screamed and struggled beneath him.
He scrambled up and shoved her around the side. “Keep your back to the tire and your head down,” he barked.
She whimpered and hunkered down.
He measured the distance to the house, where he could get a gun. Then he levered up to see the taillights of the truck speeding down his driveway and away. He could probably catch the guy. “Are you okay?” He stood, ready to run.
“No,” she said, crying. “I think I was shot.”
Shit. He forgot all about pursuit and rushed around the car, dropping to his haunches. “Where?” He gingerly ran his hand down her arms. She sat with her knees bent and her arms wrapped around them. “Are you bleeding?” Damn it. He needed to get her into the house where he could see. “Hold on.” He lifted her and ran across the lawn toward the porch, clearing it and opening his door to rush inside, where he laid her on the sofa.
Then he flipped on the lights and returned to her. “Where are you hit?”
Her hair was all over and her eyes wide. She looked down at her jeans, which w
ere ripped at the knees. Blood welled from them. “Oh. I’m sorry. I’m just scratched from the gravel.” Was she going into shock?
He looked her over and then grabbed a blanket to cover her. “What hurts, Jolene? Were you hit?”
She slowly shook her head and cuddled into the blanket. “No. I don’t think so.”
He exhaled as relief buzzed through his veins. “Okay.” Tugging out his phone from his back pocket, he quickly dialed 9-1-1.
It was too late to chase the shooter.
The morning halted the freezing snowstorm for a least a little while. Heather used her crutches to make her way out of the brick building housing the Silverville City Police Department to find Anna Albertini leaning against her red Touareg, her nose red from the cold. “Anna? What’s up?” She moved closer.
Anna straightened, today wearing jeans and a heavy green parka. “I saw your car. What’s going on?” Her eyes were more gray than green today, and her brunette hair was up in a casual ponytail. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah.” Heather paused and stood on her good foot, straightening so the crutches didn’t bite into her armpits.
Anna looked closer. “All right. How about breakfast? Sunshine Eats is just down the street.”
On cue, Heather’s stomach growled. “Sounds good. What are you doing in Silverville? I thought you were headed over the pass last night for work.”
Anna rolled her eyes and fell into step beside her. “I got called in and questioned because of the shooting at Quint’s house last night. Can you believe that?”
Heather stumbled, and the ground fell out beneath her. “What? Quint was shot?” Panic grabbed her around the throat.
Anna stopped. “No. He’s fine.” She moved for the door to Sunshine’s and opened it. “The sheriff is pretty sure the shooter was after Jolene, and Quint just happened to be there. Jolene has a few investigative stories in the hopper, and she thought she recognized the truck after she’d calmed down. Something to do with bank fraud.” She gestured Heather inside the quiet family restaurant that had winter designs on all of the windows.
Heather’s head spun and she hitched inside, moving for the nearest green booth to slide along the smooth leather. Christmas music tinkled in the background. Once Anna had seated herself, Heather stared at her. “Are you telling me that Jolene was at Quint’s house. Last night?” After he’d kissed her?
Anna blinked and a slow smile tipped her lips. “Well, yeah. Apparently he got home and she was waiting for him. Then somebody shot at them from a truck that no longer had a license plate. You can’t believe Quint is interested in Jolene any longer.”
Couldn’t she? Heather reached for a menu. It didn’t matter to her. Even if Quint wasn’t interested in Jolene, Heather had been smart to put him in the friend zone. Life was crazy right now, and it appeared that Quint’s life included women who waited all night for him to show up. “What’s good here?”
“Everything,” Anna said.
Figured. They ordered from a cute waitress with purple hair before sipping happily on flavored coffee.
The door opened behind Heather with a tinkle of the bell above it, but she didn’t turn around. Until the sheriff strode up to the table. “Miss Davis?”
She set her cup down and looked up at the grizzly older man. “Hi, Sheriff. Was there a problem with my report?” She’d placed a report about Jack and the flowers and phone calls with a younger deputy before meeting Anna on the street.
“No. We’ve had a report against you.” He pushed back his cowboy hat to reveal thick white hair. “Sorry about that, but I need to take you in.” He had a gun and badge at his belt, and even though he had to be in his late sixties, the man looked like he could take on a grizzly bear.
She blinked, and her stomach dropped. “A report against me? For what?”
“Vandalism and malicious mischief,” the sheriff said. “You’re on video destroying a couple of cars at Molly’s Motel last night.”
Anna burst out laughing. “She’s on crutches, Sheriff.”
He nodded, his faded eyes sober. “I know. She’s on crutches in the video.”
Anna lost the smile. “Heather?”
Heather’s mouth gaped open, and she could only shake her head.
Anna’s eyes sharpened. “All right. Let’s see this video.” She stood and handed Heather the crutches. “There’s no way my client committed any of those crimes last night, Sheriff.” She waited until Heather had bundled back into her coat before drawing on her own parka. “This is ridiculous.”
Heather used the crutches to head out of the restaurant and down the salted and shoveled sidewalk to go back into the sheriff’s building, her mind reeling. “Whose cars did I supposedly destroy?” Then her gaze caught sight of Jack sitting in the same chair she’d sat in earlier at the deputy’s desk. “Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” she muttered, the hair on the back of her neck rising. “Have you lost your mind?” she snapped.
Jack’s light brown hair was wet from melting snow, and his eyes gleamed. “You can’t do things like that, Heather. I know you’re grieving from your grandmother’s death, and I know you’re not in your right mind, but you have to let me help you.” He stood, earnestness spreading across a face she’d once considered handsome. He was tall and thin, and for the weather today he wore a brown coat, tan pants, and dark boots.
Anna cocked her head to the side. “Who are you?”
“Oh, sorry.” He hurried forward and held out a hand. “I’m Jack Allen, Heather’s boyfriend.”
Anna shook his hand, her gaze appraising.
“Ex-boyfriend,” Heather corrected, her armpits aching from the stupid crutches. “I have no idea what you’re up to, Jack, but you need to stop it right now.”
His face dropped in a sympathetic expression that made her want to vomit. “You’re not in your right mind, honey.”
Anna released his hand. “You do realize that filing a false police report carries jail time in Idaho?” Without waiting for an answer, she turned to the sheriff. “We’d like to see the video.” She turned and strode through the hub of three desks to a conference room as if she knew exactly what she was doing.
Heather followed her, acutely aware of the sheriff behind her. When she sat in a dark leather chair by a well-worn table, she sighed and fought the urge to throw the crutches across the room. Stupid things.
The sheriff punched keys on a laptop, and the screen at the far end of the room lit up. Heather ducked her head to see better. A woman dressed in a dark coat like hers, with a hoodie covering her face and head, keyed a couple of cars in front of a hotel while the snow billowed down. She used crutches and took her time, and not once did her face show.
“That’s Jack’s SUV.” Heather pointed to a blue SUV. “I don’t know who owns the other car.”
“A guy named Phil Lightenship who’s in town from Helena,” the sheriff said. “Is that you?”
Heather shook her head. “No. I don’t move that well with the crutches.” The woman was good at keeping her face off-camera. “Although she’s my size and that looks like my coat. Or at least it’s close to my coat.”
Anna sat back. “You don’t have enough to arrest her, Sheriff. You can’t tell who that is.” She looked sideways at him. “I need a copy of that.”
“I’ll email it to you,” he agreed, no expression on his gnarled face. “The complainant wants to talk to you. This would be so much easier if you all agreed that it wasn’t you. What do you say?”
Heather shook her head, but Anna stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.
“Oh, bring him in,” Anna said, her smile shark-like. “We’d love to talk to him.”
Heather shivered.
Chapter 9
Snow fell lightly to continue covering the forest service road in the middle of nowhere. Silence abounded with peace and the sense of winter as the tree boughs filled with white around them. “I want to work on ballistics,” Quint said, putting the collar on Zena next to his tr
uck. “She can find shell casings and the wad, but I haven’t had time to work with her lately to hunt down shells.”
His brother finished securing the collar around his puppy. “Sounds good to me. Opal here is almost ready to start with search and rescue, but she needs a little tempering first.” He patted the yellow lab on the head, and the dog yipped happily. “Or maybe a lot of tempering.” Vince grinned. “I came out earlier and shot at a tree, so there’s a shell casing to the north and the wad should be close to that nearest tamarack. Go for it.”
Quint looked down at his dog. “Sit.”
Zena sat, and her body vibrated. She wore the collar and not the search and rescue vest, so she should know what her job was today.
“Are you ready to work?” Quint asked.
She stiffened.
“Go to it. Find.” He gestured toward the trees.
The dog took off, running in a zig-zag pattern. While her main focus would always be search and rescue or finding cadavers, sometimes Quint got the chance to assist the sheriff or local fish and game with cases, and Zena was one of the best at scouting.
Vince watched the dog go as his dog played around his boots. “Are you thinking of making a job change?”
A pit dropped into Quint’s gut. “No. Well, I don’t think so.”
Vince’s dark eyebrows rose nearly to his black hair. His eyes were a deep blue, unlike the rest of the brothers. “That was uncertain. What’s up with you?”
Quint shrugged. “Find it, girl,” he called out as Zena plunged into the trees.
Vince sighed. “Quint? Give.”
Quint shoved his hands in his pockets against the freezing snow. “Someday I’m going to have to find another line of work. Not yet, but I don’t know.”
Vince rolled his eyes. “It’s the new girl, isn’t it?”
“She’s a woman and not a girl,” Quint said, easily deflecting.
“Whatever. You like her, but if she likes you, she won’t get in the way of your job. You know that,” Vince said, angling his head to better see Zena. “She’s caught the scent.”
Holiday Rescue Page 6
