Fatal Burn

by Roxanne Rustand

  Even after just two days of adequate food, fresh water and warm, clean housing, the Bascomb dogs seemed to be looking a little perkier, though the vet had said it might take a month or more of care before some of the pressure sores would heal.

  Yesterday, Kris had worked her way through the entire pack, bathing them and gently cleansing wounds. Not one of them had tried to snap at her, perhaps realizing that she was only trying to help. She’d been near tears over some of them—the young ones who feared her touch. The old ones, too weak to care.

  Today she felt a sense of deep contentment just walking past and seeing their eyes were a little brighter. Satisfied that all was well, she left the building and went out to meet the Randalls.

  Carrie waved gaily and turned to pull a large picnic basket out of the backseat of the truck. She thrust it into Trace’s arms, then retrieved a large plastic container and pushed the door shut.

  “Tell me that you haven’t eaten lunch yet,” she called out. “I have enough for an army here, and Gina couldn’t stay.”

  The aromas drifting on the light breeze made Kris’s mouth water. “It smells heavenly. And no. I haven’t eaten—not even breakfast. We had quite a morning, once the vet arrived.”

  She followed Carrie and Trace into the kitchen, where Carrie began reaching into the basket and pulling out a nine-by-thirteen pan heaped with chicken and covered with aluminum foil, followed by several serving dishes. She put them all in the center of the round oak table in the kitchen.

  “I figured you don’t have much time to cook these days, and it was time for us to be neighborly.” Carrie grinned at her brother. “We can’t stay too awfully long, though, ’cause Trace has his hands full back at the ranch. It was the coconut cake that lured him here.”

  The laugh lines bracketing his eyes deepened. “That sounds pathetic.”

  She nodded. “He is, actually, when it comes to this cake and my fried chicken.”

  “I don’t blame him a bit.” Kris pulled plates and silverware from the cupboards and set them on the table, then pulled a pitcher of iced tea from the refrigerator. “I hope this’ll do.”

  “Perfect. Can we say grace?” Carrie reached out to hold hands.

  Kris accepted the gesture, then tentatively reached for Trace, suddenly feeling a little shy and awkward. His hand was large and strong and calloused. Little shimmers of awareness made her own hand tingle and sent a rush of warmth through her. Their eyes met for a split second, then he bowed his head.

  But in that brief moment, she saw something beyond the casual, indifferent expression he usually wore. Was that really a flash of…interest?

  Carrie closed her eyes. “Dear Lord, thanks so much for bringing Kris into our lives. Please bless her work here and help her prosper while caring for all of Your creatures in need. Please keep her safe and well, and help her find happiness in our midst. Please bless Trace in all he does, and keep us all safe. Thank You for this food and for all the joy and love You have brought us. Amen.”

  “Amen.”

  Trace’s husky voice rumbled across Kris’s skin and she pulled her hand back, a little too quickly.

  “Well, dig in,” Carrie urged. “This is family-style, and we sure don’t stand on formality.”

  The chicken was incredible—juicy, plump and well seasoned with a wonderful crispy coating. The potato salad held a hint of dill, garlic and sour cream, unlike any other recipe Kris had tried.

  Throughout the meal, she mostly sat back and listened to the easy banter between Trace and his sister.

  “This was just amazing,” she murmured when she couldn’t eat another bite. “And your dinner rolls—they’re light as a cloud. Whenever I’ve tried, I end up with doorstops.”

  Carrie laughed. “Practice, my dear. That’s all it takes…along with too many failures to count.”

  “Though even your failures beat my best, six ways to Sunday,” Trace retorted. “And that…well, that’s the best thing this side of heaven.”

  He leaned back in his chair and looked longingly at the tall plastic cake container on the counter, looking so boyish that it made Kris smile.

  Taking the hint, she rose to clear the plates and dishes from the table, while Carrie uncovered the cake and cut it into thick slabs.

  He was right—Carrie’s cake was well beyond delicious.

  “How are things going for you over here?” he asked after polishing off the last crumb. “Busy?”

  Kris toyed with her fork, wishing she had enough appetite to finish her serving. “The kennel is full right now. A couple dozen animals are here after a seizure due to neglect and are essentially impounded for the next thirty days. Otherwise, word is starting to spread. There’ve been four canine adoptions and three kittens so far…but more keep coming in.”

  “Any…trouble?”

  Carrie looked up from her cake, her gaze darting between them. “Trouble?”

  “Nothing, really. Trace saw some footprints up on the hill, but they were just from some hiker. Or someone coming out for some nature photography.”

  Allan’s phone call still haunted her; still made her wonder if he could have told his buddies about her location. But surely, if they were free now, they wouldn’t risk that freedom for revenge.

  “You don’t look like everything is all right.” Carrie studied her face. “You look worried. Is there anything we can do?”

  “I’m good. Really. Between all the dogs barking and the security system at the house, no one could sneak in here. And Trace has told me I can call him if I’m ever uneasy.”

  “I sure hope you do.” Trace shoved away from the table and headed for the door. “I’m going to take a walk around the buildings. Can we be ready to go in maybe twenty minutes?”

  Carrie nodded, then rose and began putting the leftovers into the refrigerator. “This’ll keep you in meals for a couple days.” She grinned and nudged Kris with her elbow as she wrapped the foil around the remaining chicken. “The cake might even bring Trace back over for another visit, and then you can put him to work.”

  “I couldn’t. I mean…”

  “Are you blushing?” Carrie wiggled an eyebrow.

  “Of course not. I mean, he’s been a good neighbor, but…”

  “Well, for the record, I think you two would be a great couple. And,” Carrie added with a mischievous smile, “I think I’m gonna tell him.”

  If Kris hadn’t been blushing before, she surely was now. She could feel the heat climbing up her neck. “Please don’t. I get the feeling he can’t wait to escape, whenever he’s over here.” She hesitated. “I’m curious, though. The vet said something about him having troubles, in the past.”

  Carrie abruptly turned away to search under the kitchen sink, and pulled out a bottle of dish detergent. “You…should probably ask him.”

  “That’s what Gina said. I hope I haven’t inadvertently said something wrong to him.”

  Carrie closed the sink drain and poured in some detergent, then started running the hot water. After a moment she shut off the faucet and turned around. “Trace…wouldn’t like me talking about him. You should let him tell you, when he’s ready. But I can say this—he’s a man who shoulders responsibility too heavily. I wish I could lift his burdens, but I can’t—and that’s just something he and God need to work out someday. God is always ready to forgive…but it’s Trace who just can’t forgive himself.”

  Kris mulled over Carrie’s words after the Randalls left. What on earth would trouble Trace so much that he couldn’t forgive himself?

  Her cell phone rang just as she reached the kennel. Her heart skipped a beat—then settled into a steadier rhythm when she saw Megan’s name on the screen.

  “Sorry I didn’t get back to you sooner. I’ve been working overtime.” Something crackled in the back-ground—probably her patrol car radio—and she fell silent for a moment before continuing, her voice weary. “How are things?”

  “You sound swamped, Meg.”

  “That and mo
re, but I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t love it. Have you heard from Allan since we last met?”

  “No…”

  After a pause, Megan sighed. “You didn’t give him any money. Please tell me you didn’t.”

  “I’m not stupid. But he said he knew something about Emma. So, yeah…I sent him a little.”

  “And then you learned all about your sister. After all these years.”

  “Well, no…but he did have some information he could only have gotten from her. And he said he wouldn’t keep track of her if I didn’t help him.”

  “He knows your hot buttons, sweetie. He knows less about Emma than even you do—I can guarantee it. He probably just recited something you said about her years ago. He’s nothing if not smart—but he only uses those brain cells to find an easy way through life.”

  “That’s exactly what my brain tells me. It’s just that sometimes, my heart gets in the way. Emma means everything to me. She’s the only relative I have left.” Again, Kris heard a burst of static in the background. “Are you okay?”

  “I have to go. But I want to tell you that Allan’s buddies are definitely out on parole. They’ve both failed recent meetings with their parole officers, so now they’re under warrants for arrest. No one has seen them for several months.”

  A shudder worked its way through Kris’s midsection. “Not what I wanted to hear.”

  “They’d be stupid to come after you, but no one said all criminals are smart. I want you to talk to your local sheriff and give him the details. Got that? And do it now. The local agencies need to know that you were once threatened by these guys, so they can be on alert. I—oops, gotta go.”

  The line went dead.

  Kris debated, then called the sheriff’s office and left a message, though it didn’t seem plausible that Jay and Tom would come clear over to Montana to retaliate. Her testimony during their trial was still safely stored in old court records. It would provide an obvious link. And surely the last thing they’d want was to risk capture and end up back in the slammer. But, if she hadn’t followed through, Megan would’ve hounded her relentlessly until she did.

  The rest of the day flew by. A family arrived for a joyous reunion with their missing cocker spaniel—a dog the sheriff had brought in yesterday after he found it wandering far out in the country.

  Another owner arrived, relieved to find his missing coonhound, but he became testy about the forty-dollar charge to get it back.

  And—something that made her smile during the late afternoon—she looked out the window by her desk in the office and saw a familiar minivan pull in with three small girls and their clearly embarrassed father.

  After their last visit, Kris had worried about how he treated his family, but as he walked to the building, the girls held his hands while they skipped and chattered excitedly. Good.

  As soon as he opened the door, the girls ran down the aisle to look for their favorite calico kitten, but he lingered in front of her desk, his hands shoved in his pockets, until Kris looked up from the papers on her desk. “Yes?”

  “I…uh…guess I need to apologize.” His face was the picture of contrition, and he could barely look her in the eye. “I was a little rude when we were here a few days ago. My wife hasn’t been speaking to me and the girls have been crying ever since over the kitten they wanted. Is…is it still here?”

  “I believe so.”

  “Thank God.” His shoulders slumped with obvious relief. “All three girls have been adding this onto their bedtime prayers for days.”

  She tried to hide her smile. “If you want you can go out to see her, to make sure it’s the right decision, then you can sign the adoption application. There’s a four-day wait after that, or you can wait another week and the kitten would be spayed here.”

  “I promise we’ll follow through, but for any peace at our house, I’d sure like to pick her up as soon as we can.”

  “No problem.” Kris swiveled her chair and retrieved a folder from the cabinet behind her desk. “I’ll definitely hold that kitten for you—but the four days start once you fill this out, so you might want to do it now.” She glanced at the calendar. “Then you could come back on…Tuesday.”

  “Again—I’m sorry.” He ventured a tentative smile. “I’d had a hard day at work, and I took it out on you. My wife wasted no time in letting me know what she thought of me.”

  Little feet came thundering back down the aisle, then his three girls burst into the office, grinning from ear to ear.

  “She’s here, Daddy!”

  “Please, can we have her? Please?”

  The older girl’s eyes sparkled with tears. “It’s the one, Daddy. It’s the right one.”

  They gathered around him, hugging his waist, and burst into childish cheers when he said yes.

  Those children and their father weren’t far from Kris’s thoughts late on Sunday evening, while she sat on the floor and tackled yet another box of Thalia’s possessions that were still stacked in the living room.

  Those sweet little faces.

  Their excitement.

  Their complete adoration and forgiveness of their father, even if he’d been abominably rude.

  What was it like to experience such complete and forgiving love? To be the most important person in a small child’s life? She caught her reflection in the windows as she took a pile of linens to the back door to be donated and stopped short.

  She was still young. There were still possibilities for her out there…but the person looking back at her in reflection looked grim. Tired. Older than her years.

  The polar opposite of perky little Carrie, who seemed to face each day with boundless joy and energy.

  Remembering the easy banter between Carrie and her brother, Kris felt a flash of longing for the camaraderie she would likely never have. With her own sister gone and one failed marriage under her belt, she was probably destined to end up as a loony old lady living alone with twenty cats and a parakeet.

  Despite the senseless fluttering of those butterflies in her stomach when Trace showed up, guys like him didn’t settle for women with a lot of baggage…or the kind of secrets she didn’t want to reveal.

  And women like her knew it wasn’t worth the risk of even trying…because it just meant facing an inevitable sense of loss.

  Lost in her thoughts, she started on another box…then froze as she lifted her gaze to the windows. It was pitch-black outside. Way after midnight.

  And outside, the dogs in the kennel were going absolutely crazy.

  TEN

  When the furious barking out in the kennel rose to an even higher crescendo, Kris realized three things.

  The dogs heard wildlife coming into the clearing, or they sensed a two-footed predator.

  And the only weapon she had—Thalia’s Winchester—was in the kennel and far out of reach.

  Her heart pounding, she slowly rose to her knees, then moved to the kitchen, where the lights were off and she’d be less easily seen.

  The single security light cast a pool of light over the front door of the main entrance to the kennels, fading to darkness at either end.

  Through the window of the office she could see the glow of the single light she always left on inside.

  Nothing was moving. Yet the dogs suddenly grew louder, and far more frantic.

  And then she saw it—a dim, crouching shadow moving along the side of the building, just outside the pool of light. Animal…or human?

  Her heart jerked upward into her throat, making it hard to breathe. To think.

  Rushing out there would be stupid. Unarmed, defenseless, she would be an easy target…or easy prey. But what if something—or someone—was after the dogs, trapped?

  Yet if she called 911 or Trace and it was nothing but a random coyote or wolf, she’d seem like some hysterical, ridiculous woman who couldn’t handle running the shelter on her own…news that could well spread from the sheriff to the county board of supervisors and endanger her provisional contr
act.

  Unclipping the cell phone at her waist, she waited. Strained to listen past the howling erupting from the kennel. Toenails clicked across the kitchen floor and Bailey shoved his nose under her hand, whining. He went to the back door, whined, and came back to her, edgy and uncertain.

  But the old dog was no match for a wolf, much less a pack if one was near. “Not this time, buddy.”

  God—I don’t talk to You near enough, but I’m begging You now. Please—tell me what to do.

  Whatever the damage to her credibility, she had to call.

  With shaking fingers she punched in 911, then gave her name to the dispatcher. “I hear something outside. The dogs are going berserk, and I’m unarmed.”

  “Kris Donaldson?” he asked after a brief pause. “This number is coming up as out-of-state.”

  “It’s my cell. I’m living at Wind Hill Ranch, west of Battle Creek.”

  “Have you seen an intruder? Have you been directly threatened?”

  “No…but someone, or something, is out there.”

  A brief silence. “Officer Gardner is within a few miles of your location. He’s on his way. Stay on the line, ma’am. Tell me what you’re seeing now.”

  Kris spoke rapidly into the phone, keeping her eyes fixed on the murky landscape outside. After what seemed like a lifetime, a pair of headlights briefly twinkled through the trees along the lane coming from the highway, then came bouncing into view.

  The patrol car pulled in and did a slow circle in the parking area, its spotlight scanning the entire clearing, and then the buildings from one end to another.

  The tenor of the barking changed, then quieted altogether when the patrol car halted under the light by the house.

  Kris ended her 911 call and moved to the front entryway, waiting until she saw Ken’s familiar bulk climbing out of the car. She opened the door.

  “Sorry about this,” she called out.

  He smiled as he trudged up the porch steps. “It’s my job, ma’am. Did you see someone?”