by Debra Kayn
"He—" Anders cleared his throat. "He said we can't go inside. The place is booby-trapped."
"We need to do one thing first." Mark stared at the dogs. "If you look closely, Jaster and McCloud tied them with a frayed rope. If we step out of the hummer and try to get close to the cabin, we'll rile them, and they'll break loose."
Quint stared at the front of the cabin. Each of them understood dogs better than most people, having trained and been the bait for more dogfights than they could count.
"We'll have to shoot them from a distance," he said.
"You forget that Will said the cabin is booby-trapped. We don't know if noise will activate a bomb or if the dogs straining against the porch will set something off." Anders inhaled deeply. "If we're dead, we can't get into the cabin to get Will."
Will was already dead. Nobody had to tell them what they'd find inside. The proof was on the phone.
He shut off the pain, the questions, the anger. There was only one thing to do.
Quint glanced over at Katelynn in the truck. She sat looking forward at the dogs, moving in circles around the posts. As long as she remained in the vehicle, she'd be safe. He'd left his phone beside her on the seat. She could call 911 for help if something happened to him.
Refusing to look at Anders and Mark in case they read his thoughts, he wrapped his fingers around the barrel of the shotgun. He swung the door open and marched forward.
Anders and Mark yelled for him to get back. He kept going until he was halfway to the cabin, then he stopped, raised the rifle, and shot one of the dogs. He kept going down the line.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
The last cartridge fell to the ground. His ears, deafened from the shots, couldn't hear the silence but it was there. Hovering around him like death.
He was still alive.
Anders and Mark rushed to his side at the same time Katelynn's screams reached his ears. His body hardened. He couldn't push her away. He couldn't keep her safe. He couldn't put the sound of her fear out of his mind.
Chapter 28
Quint lowered the rifle and stumbled, almost losing his balance. Panic and sobs fought against Katelyn. She broke a fingernail in her struggle to get the door to the truck open.
Practically falling out of the vehicle, she scrambled forward. Running to Quint, she'd almost made it to him when Anders caught her around the waist, holding her back.
"Give him a second." Anders dragged her backward.
"Let me go!" She flung her arm out, shaken over Quint's behavior. "He shot the dogs."
"Quiet." Anders blocked her from seeing Quint. "You're going to have to trust him. He'll explain what is happening, just give him time."
"She needs to go back in the truck. It's not safe." Mark frowned. "She shouldn't be here."
"What's wrong with him?" Her body trembled, wanting to run away, wanting to stay, wanting to scream. She needed to know how, out of the blue, Quint had gone crazy.
Her Quint wouldn't shoot someone's pets.
Quint came into view but walked away from her toward the house. Anders held her back, moving her one step at a time until she bumped into a vehicle. Unable to stop him when he put her in the seat and the door shut, she kept her gaze on Quint.
Anders climbed into the rig with her. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't move.
Without looking at him, she said, "Please, please, tell me what is going on."
"I can't," he said.
Her muscles tensed even tighter. She snapped her gaze to him. Infuriated, she sneered. What kind of friend was he not to help Quint?
None of this made any sense.
When Quint received the phone call, he'd rushed over here. She'd assumed Will needed help or was hurt. Something terrible that had made Quint shut down and concentrate on driving.
Instead, he arrived and shot four dogs. Dogs tied to the porch. Anders and Mark acted calmly about the situation as if they'd planned everything.
"Where's Will?" She looked back out the windshield at Quint in front of the porch.
After several seconds, Anders said, "Listen, Katelynn. You need—"
"Don't tell me what I need to do," she said, her voice quaking with anger. "Tell me where Will is?"
"Inside the cabin."
Her heart pounded. There was no way that Will couldn't hear the commotion outside, the gun blasts, her yelling. "Why hasn't he come out?"
"Because he's dead," said Anders softly.
She stared at him, wondering if she heard him right in her panic. His mouth remained firm. His eyes steady. Emotionless and factual, he lacked any reaction to losing his friend.
"I don't believe you." She opened the door and jumped out before he could stop her.
Running, she yelled Quint's name. He stepped onto the porch and turned toward her. A wall of debris erupted behind him before an ear-splitting explosion reached her and she lost sight of him. Pain spread in her head before a heaviness settled atop her, pressing her against the hard ground.
Wood cracking and volatile bangs split in her ears. She opened her eyes. A fiery orange wall of flames rose up where Quint had stood seconds ago.
"Quint," she screamed.
More explosions came. She ducked her head, or maybe she closed her eyes. Unable to move from the weight on her, she couldn't do anything but yell for Quint until she lost her voice or maybe she'd gone deaf. Her senses gone, she choked on her tears.
"Katelynn, come on." Anders shifted on top of her. "Keep your head down and stay close to me."
The abuse of being held down gone, she scrambled to her hands and knees, crawling toward the fire.
Dragged back by her leg, she yelled for someone to help Quint.
The flames roared higher, obscuring her view. She didn't know what to do, only that Quint was in the fire and away from her.
Anders picked her up around the waist and carried her struggling to the vehicles. Pushing her against the truck, he gazed at her with lowered brows. "I need to go find them. Stay here."
"Go." When he hesitated, studying her, she pushed him. "Just go. Go."
Helpless to run into the flames, she latched on to any help. Pacing near the vehicles, she stayed back from the fire. Even from a hundred feet away, the heat from the flames shooting through the cabin's roof warmed her skin. She coughed as smoke blew her way.
Covering her mouth, she squinted against the burning in her eyes. She couldn't see Anders or Mark. Had they gone inside the house? Had they found Quint?
She tried to dismiss her fears, telling herself that Quint hadn't shot the dogs and the fire was only on the porch, not inside. That Quint found a way to escape the explosion. H-he probably found some place to seek cover from the flames.
Breaking her promise to stay by the vehicles, she darted between the river and the cabin, looking for any place Quint could've gone. Maybe he was hurt and couldn't come to her, or a piece of flying wood knocked him out.
Another explosion rocked her. She stumbled, falling to her knees.
Crying out in pain as debris from the fire hit her shoulder. The sound of gunfire rapidly firing came over the roar of the flames. Sucking in a terrified breath, she strangled on the smoke as her lungs filled.
A collection of explosions shook the ground, she flattened herself on the rocks and covered her head, afraid more of the cabin would land on her. For what seemed like hours, she waited, coughing and crying in despair, as bursts continued coming from the house.
After each discharge, she strained to hear through the echoing in her ears, hoping for it to all end, only to grow frustrated the longer the gun-like explosions happened.
Quint had to be okay. She'd seen him on the porch. His gaze connected with her eyes when the blast happened. Then, everything had gone away. The cabin. Quint.
She lifted her head. Only the crackle of wood burning filled the air.
Getting to her feet, she swayed. Lightheaded, she tried not to breathe the smoke and
inched her way toward the side of the house. The whole cabin was burning.
A hand clamped on her mouth, and her back slammed against a hard surface. "Don't scream or I'll kill you."
Not recognizing the voice, she struggled against the arms holding her tight. Dragged backward away from the fire, the vehicles, the others.
She mentally snapped. Someone was taking her away from Quint.
Her shoe came off. The cry of pain as gravel dug into her heel snuffed out by the hand across her face. She tried to get her feet under her and failed. Pulled away, she fought violently to get away. She needed to find Quint.
Her torment left her breathless and tears blinded her. Her throat raw from the smoke and screaming, she sucked air through her nose, trying to fill her lungs. In a last-ditch effort, she reached up behind her, and scratched in the general area of the man's face, barely making any contact.
His steps slowed and then stopped. She kicked out behind her and stabbed her elbow at his stomach. The man loosened his grip. She used all her weight to pitch herself forward, needing to get away from him. Disoriented and unprepared when his hold on her broke, she fell out of his arms and hit the ground, landing on her sore shoulder.
Out of her peripheral vision, he reached down for her. She rolled and scrambled to her feet, seeing the river a few feet away, an empty motorboat halfway on the bank. As soon as the realization that the man planned to take her away, she turned and ran over the rocks, stumbling and pushing herself to run as fast as she could with stiff muscles and one bare foot toward the burning building.
Afraid to look back, she gazed forward searching for Quint or Anders or Mark. She sobbed at the extent of the fire. The whole cabin was engulfed.
Flames billowed out all sides of the structure and the roof. She tripped, almost falling before she righted herself on the run.
A loud crack reached her ears, and part of the porch fell. She scanned the area looking for Quint, terror flooding her.
Her head jerked back, almost slowing her down, as the man behind her tried to grab her hair and failed.
A sob escaped. Panic seized her, knowing the stranger gave chase. "Quint!"
The man's fingers brushed through the back of her hair and found purchase. Slammed to a stop, she swung her arm, and her fist slid off his cheek, startling him that he let go.
She jumped away from him, keeping the stranger in front of her to dodge his next move. "Quint!"
The stranger stood six feet tall. The strength from being three times her weight more than made up for his age. He had to be sixty-five years old with a hard, wrinkled face and a bald forehead and thinning gray hair.
"Quint," she screamed.
Escaping the man would be impossible. Eventually, he would catch her or hurt her. But, she wouldn't go down without fighting for her life.
The man took out a pistol and aimed it at her chest. "You're going to come with me. We're going to walk to the boat."
"I'm not going anywhere with you." She stared at the gun and screamed, "Quint."
"He can't help you. Nobody can save you. They're all gone." The man waved the weapon and stepped toward her. "I took one of them out, and like fucking dogs—loyal to the end, they all followed and burned in the explosion."
"No," she whispered, shaking her head. "I don't believe you."
Her legs trembled. She reached out and grasped air. Quint was dead? Will? Anders? Mark?
Smoke stung her eyes. She stared down the barrel of the pistol. Roaring filled her ears. She was going to die, and Quint wasn't here to protect and keep her safe.
All the strength left her spine. She blinked slowly to stop time. Earlier, she and Quint had been together.
She should've convinced him to stay at home. If they'd stayed at the cabin, he'd still be with her. She'd still be with him.
"Katelynn?" yelled Quint.
Elation filled her, hearing the best sound in the world. She turned on instinct, catching sight of Quint running from the front of the truck.
"He's got a gun," she screamed.
The man grabbed her upper arm, hauling her against him. "You can watch me finally kill Quint Mathews."
She gasped as what he said sunk in. Quint had saved her life once when he took care of her mistake. She wouldn't allow him to lose his life because of her.
Screaming, she swung her arms, pounding the man's chest, not letting him aim the pistol. She wouldn't allow him to take the man she loved away from her.
A gun blast cut through the air. She froze and lifted her gaze. The man's mouth opened, and his hands fell off her. She stepped back, afraid he'd shot Quint when a spot of red grew on the front of the man's shirt.
She stumbled back in horror. It was too much.
Cord.
Dogs.
Will.
Fire.
Stranger.
Falling on her ass, she stared as death rolled into the man's eyes, and he fell.
Chapter 29
Katelynn sat in the cab of the truck. Quint stood in the open doorway making sure she stayed put. She'd gone into shock when he'd shot Sam McCloud.
Knowing McCloud would kill her to make him suffer, he'd taken the only chance he had, and luckily hit him right in the heart, killing him, before he could harm Katelynn.
Mark touched Quint's arm. "The fire department is coming."
"Who called it in?" Quint shook his head. "Nevermind."
It was fire season in the Bitterroot Mountains. Anyone who spotted the smoke would call 911. Will lived...had lived away from everyone. His closest neighbor was four miles down the river. It could've been a passing fisherman floating the river or someone out hiking who noticed the smoke from one of the nearby mountain peaks.
Anders jogged over, wiping soot from his face, only smearing the blackness to more parts of his body. "McCloud is hidden until we can come back and bury the body. What should we do with the dogs?"
"It's a volunteer fire department who will respond to the call. They'll assume the animals perished in the fire because they were tied to the porch. They won't do an autopsy." Mark stared at the smoldering fire. "But, they'll perform one on Will, and they'll believe he hung himself before the fire broke out."
Quint closed his eyes and turned his back to where the cabin once stood. They were unable to get Will out of the building. The only thing that had kept Quint from rushing inside to save him was the explosion. With the boobytrap McCloud planted to go off, the stockpile of ammunition ignited, making it impossible to get inside.
But, Will had already died.
The fire hadn't hurt him. He'd been cremated on his land.
He opened his eyes and looked at Katelynn. She had yet to say a word or show any awareness of the conversations taking place around her. From the moment he picked her up and carried her to the truck, she'd sat in one position, staring out the windshield. She wouldn't even look at him.
"They can only do an autopsy if there's something left of him," whispered Quint. "The cabin was filled with ammunition that we stored here, plus Will's own stock. There's a wood stove. The place wasn't built to code. Will kept fuel for his boat stored at the side of the house, and he had a propane tank as another form of heat, and who knows what other chemicals he used in his business inside the cabin. Whatever device McCloud and Jaster used to blow the fucking place up is probably gone. I doubt if the fire department will even investigate because of the obvious."
"We need to make sure she doesn't talk," said Anders, glancing at Katelynn. "I'm sorry, Quint, but we've got our backs against the wall. This is the closest we've come to losing everything."
He turned around and lowered his voice. "What the hell does that mean? Are you going to shut her up if she speaks to the authorities? Because if you try to—"
"Calm the fuck down." Mark stepped between him and Anders. "I hear sirens."
He shared a look with the others. They'd been through hell tonight. It wasn't the first time they'd faced their past or had to cover up crimes that should
never have happened.
He couldn't think about Will right now. Later, he'd deal with another loss.
"Jesus," he mumbled turning to Katelynn.
He slid his hand into hers and squeezed. She refused to look at him, or maybe she wasn't even aware he stood beside her.
"Katelynn?" He leaned inside the truck and stroked her face. "The fire department is coming to put out the fire."
She never blinked. Never looked at him. Never showed any reaction to his voice.
He swallowed, kissed her forehead, and whispered, "I know things are all kinds of fucked up right now. I'll never tell you that you can't scream to the world about what I've done, but I hope someday, you'll let me explain."
The pain of what he'd done to her cut deep. He wasn't sure he could tell her about his life. Since he turned fifteen years old, the only ones who knew what he'd lived through were standing behind him.
"I want to ask that you not tell anyone about the man I shot, but I can't do that to you." He pressed his forehead against her temple. "Just don't ruin your life by confessing anything else. I will never speak of what happened with Miller."
Katelynn continued to stare out at the smoke. He inhaled deeply, regretting it instantly as his lungs seized and he started coughing. His future was in her hands. Whatever the outcome, he wouldn't do anything to cause her more hurt. She needed to heal from Miller, and now the events of tonight weighed heavily on her.
If she confessed to killing Cord Miller and his part in covering up the murder and all that she'd witnessed, he'd pay for the crimes. He would protect her.
Tonight, they'd all go down if she spoke of what happened. He couldn't protect the others because he couldn't ask Katelynn to bury what she'd seen and lived through.
He straightened, wiping his mouth. The urge to cough burned in his throat.
"I can't ask her," he whispered.
Anders turned away and held his head. Quint's head pounded. He understood the frustration. Iliana was waiting at the Lair for Anders to return.
"They're here." Mark stepped away from the vehicle and cleared his throat, spitting on the ground.
