by Debby Giusti
Kelly shoved her hair away from her face. Luckily she had moved beyond the pain of growing up in a dysfunctional family and being the only one to have at least a smattering of common sense, which she needed to use today instead of returning to memories that should remain buried under a thick layer of Mississippi Delta mud.
She glanced once again at the odometer. Another mile until she would reach the turnoff for the farm, if the first sergeant’s directions were accurate. Just in case he had guesstimated the mileage, she watched for a mailbox at the roadside along with a split rail fence, which supposedly were the only landmarks that identified the long driveway that led to the Taylor home.
Up ahead, the road curved to the right. Kelly eased her foot off the gas. Halfway into the turn, a teenager dashed out from nowhere and ran across the road. For a second, he was spotlighted in the beam of her headlights.
Shaved head, tattoos, body piercings and blood.
Her heart jolted.
Kelly stomped on the brakes and gripped the steering wheel as the tires skidded over the pavement, narrowly missing the boy.
In the blink of an eye, he was gone.
Adrenaline coursed through her veins and rammed her pulse into high gear. Gasping at the close call, she steered the car to the edge of the road and leaned back against the head-rest. A roar of disbelief filled her ears at what had almost happened.
Kyle Foglio?
The teen had visited his lieutenant colonel father on post more than two years ago when Kelly had first hauled him in for questioning. Kyle had turned explosive, and the father had sent him back to be with his first wife, the boy’s mother, who lived up north. On one other occasion Kelly had run into the teen on Fort Rickman property, but that, too, hadn’t ended well.
Doing an instant rewind of the near miss, Kelly watched in her mind’s eye as Kyle raised his right hand to his face to block the glare of the headlights. Easy enough to recognize the tattoos and body metal. She had seen him in the bleachers today at the live-fire demonstration, sitting next to a teenage girl, so she had known he was in the area. The kid could be trouble, and Kelly had made sure on his previous two visits that he toed a straight line while he was on post. Not that Kyle had appreciated her intervention.
What she hadn’t expected tonight were the cuts that slashed through the underside of his forearms and the blood that had spattered his shirt. How had he been injured, and why had he run into the underbrush?
Reaching under her seat, Kelly grabbed her Maglite and stepped onto the pavement. The temperature had dropped, and she pulled her navy-blue windbreaker closed and shined the light over the roadway, picking out the droplets of blood that had splattered across the asphalt. The kid should be at the emergency room getting medical treatment instead of running through the woods.
“Kyle?” She shined the light into the woods. An eerie sense of foreboding tingled along her spine. “I want to help you, Kyle.”
Hearing no response, she followed the trail of blood. The smell of Georgia clay and rotting leaves rose from the dew-dampened earth. She pushed into the dense forest where prickly thorns scraped against her hand as she shoved her way deeper into the darkness.
“Kyle?”
Even the cicadas and tree frogs were silent tonight.
She aimed the Maglite into the underbrush. The beam flickered. Giving the flashlight a firm shake, she was rewarded with the return of a powerful beam that eventually revealed a dirt path and a clearing beyond.
Kelly headed for the open space. Her foot stepped onto a bed of fallen leaves. Something wrapped around her ankle. Her heart pounded an instant warning.
Before she could glance down, a whoosh of air and a powerful jerk knocked the flashlight from her hand and propelled her airborne in a topsy-turvy swirl of motion.
A gasp escaped her lips, and her stomach roiled in protest. The forest twirled around her. Heart pounding in her throat, she saw the earth below and realized she was dangling upside down. Her leg burned with pain from the jolt and the rope that tightened around her ankle. What had she gotten tangled up in? Some type of animal trap?
Blood rushed to her head. She tried to reach up and grab the thick hemp that held her bound. When that failed, she grasped her holster and unsheathed her weapon. Her fingers latched onto the cold steel. The only way to get down was to shoot the rope in two.
The sound of twigs breaking and the crackle of leaves came from the dense underbrush. A small animal was skittering for shelter or—?
Footsteps.
Her already erratic heartbeat cranked up a notch.
Friend or foe?
On the ground far below where she had dropped it, the flashlight dimmed and the beam faded into darkness. Her pulse hammered in her ears.
She gripped the gun, her finger firm against the trigger. Was Kyle coming back for her or was someone else roaming through the forest? And if so, why?
Surely Phil would still be talking to the two Mrs. Taylors. Hopefully, he’d see her car when he left the farmhouse and headed back to town, but no telling how soon that would be.
She listened for the sound of a car engine, hearing nothing except the silent forest that seemed to close in around her. The stillness was more frightening than the rustling had been moments earlier. Where was he…or it?
Something slithered through the dried leaves. Her gut tightened with revulsion. She hated snakes.
Another twig snapped. Something larger than a snake was headed her way.
She shivered as a cold chill wrapped her in fear thick enough to taste. Holding the gun, she tried to steady her aim.
Branches parted. In the darkness, she couldn’t identify much more than a huge bulk that stepped toward the clearing.
Never let them know you’re afraid. The thought rattled through her mind. She mustered her courage, raised her gun and took aim.
THREE
“What are you doing in that tree, Kelly?”
“Phil?”
His eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and even from this distance, he could make out her slender body as well as the barrel of the Sig Sauer aimed directly at him.
“Don’t just stand there. Get me down.” She sounded piqued.
“No, ma’am. Not until you holster your weapon.”
“What?”
“The gun, Kelly. I don’t trust anyone who’s pointing a nine-millimeter at my midsection.”
She harrumphed. “I wasn’t planning to shoot you. I heard a noise and thought—”
The words stuck in her throat, but she complied with his request and returned the weapon to her hip holster.
Phil reached for her just as he had wanted to do the moment he had stepped into the clearing and had seen she was in trouble. “Wrap your arms around my neck.”
She complied without an outburst, for which he was grateful. Her leg had to hurt, and her skin felt cold and clammy. He wouldn’t mention shock, but that was a concern. The dropping temperature and her lightweight jacket didn’t help.
Pulling a knife from his pocket, he sawed through the rope and gently lowered her feet to the ground while his arms remained clasped around her waist. She felt soft and fragile and…well, like a woman.
His own pulse raced as he held her tight against his chest, trying to transmit the heat from his body back into hers. She closed her eyes, and a thread of worry coursed along his spine. “Kelly?”
Her breath fanned his flesh and wreaked havoc with his nerve endings. “Kelly? Answer me.”
Thankfully, her eyes blinked open, but she appeared dazed. Then, before he could say anything to reassure her, she pushed her hands against his chest with such force that he took a step back to balance the shift in weight.
Her erratic behavior sent up a warning flag. “You blacked out.”
She put her hands on her hips and rolled her eyes. “You saw me hanging upside down, Phil. Did I look unconscious?”
Relieved by her outburst, he almost laughed. “Next time remind me to leave you in the tree.”
“Right.”
Hearing a hint of levity mixed with her frustration, he pulled his cell phone from his pocket and hit speed dial. “Chaplain Sanchez, this is Captain Thibodeaux. I found Agent McQueen. We’ll meet you back at her car.”
Phil flipped his cell closed and stared down at Kelly. Her blond hair was disheveled, but she was trying to maintain some semblance of composure.
“The chaplain checked the other side of the roadway while I headed this direction,” Phil said. “Now tell me what you were doing out here.”
She quickly explained about almost running into the teenager. “He was sitting in the bleachers with a teenage girl at the live-fire exercise today and looked like he might have cleaned up his image a bit. But tonight there was blood on his shirt, and the inside of his arms appeared to have been cut.”
Phil’s eyes searched the darkness in case the injured teen was still around. “Did he recognize you?”
“Probably not with the glare of the headlights. After the near miss, he had to be as shook up as I was.” She glanced down at her Maglite. “If you’ve got a flashlight or extra batteries for mine, we can search the area.”
She took a step to retrieve the light and almost fell.
He grabbed her elbow to steady her. “Hold up a minute.”
Kelly pulled her arm out of his grasp. “I’m fine, Phil.”
But he knew she wasn’t. He looked down and saw the determination she tried to hold in place. “We’ll search the area in daylight, Kelly. Right now you need to get off that leg.”
She took another step, only to stumble again. “It’s a pulled muscle, nothing more.”
Phil had had enough of her attempt to walk. He leaned over and grabbed her flashlight, then, before she could object, he lifted her into his arms.
“Put me down.” She struggled to free herself.
“I will when we get to your car. Right now, save both of us some energy and cooperate.”
She let out an exasperated breath and thankfully didn’t utter another word until he stepped onto the pavement.
“I can walk across the street by myself.” She wiggled to free herself from his hold.
“Humor me, Agent McQueen.”
“It’s Kelly.”
“Okay. Humor me, Kelly.”
Sanchez stood by her car. He opened the passenger door and stepped aside as Phil placed her carefully on the front seat.
Kelly’s brow wrinkled. “I thought both of you were already at the farmhouse.”
“We got hung up on post. Lieutenant Bellows went on ahead of us. He’s probably waiting at the turnoff to the farm.” Phil bent to examine her leg.
She tried to swat his hands away. “That’s not necessary.”
He sat back on his haunches and stared at her. “Here’s the deal. Either I examine your ankle now or I drive you back to the emergency room on post and have the doctor on duty take a look at you.”
She raised her chin and closed her eyes for a long moment. When she opened them, she nodded. “All right. Check my leg. Then I’m going with you to the farmhouse.”
“If your leg’s not broken,” he said.
“It’s merely a sprain.”
Phil worked his fingers over her narrow ankle until his thumb gently pressed a tender spot. She jerked.
“Chaplain, there’s a first aid kit in the back of my pickup. Would you get it for me?”
Once Sanchez handed the kit to Phil, he pulled out an ACE bandage and wrapped it snugly around her ankle. “That should help. At least until I can get you home.”
“You have to talk to Mrs. Taylor, and I’m going with you.”
The woman could be stubborn, but he knew better than to voice that observation. Instead he remained quiet as he handed the first aid kit back to Sanchez. “I’ll drive Agent McQueen’s vehicle. You follow in my truck.”
Once Phil slipped behind the wheel, he glanced at her and then in the rearview mirror to ensure the chaplain was ready before he started the engine. “We’ll pay Mrs. Taylor a visit and tell her about her husband. When we return tomorrow, we’ll ask her why a series of traps was rigged on the land not far from her mother-in-law’s property line.”
Kelly’s eyes widened. “You saw more than one?”
“As dark as it was, I can’t be sure, but I thought I passed a couple of rigged snares on my way to find you.”
“Animal traps?”
Phil shrugged. “Could be, but if so, they were looking for mighty big critters. Any bear sightings in the area?”
“I haven’t heard of any.”
“Tigers or lions?”
He could see a hint of a smile tug at her sweet lips. “Not recently.”
“Then as near as I can determine, the traps were set to catch another type of game.”
Kelly’s smile faded. “You mean the human kind.”
“Roger that.” Phil steered the car onto the road. “Wonder what’s going on in these woods that someone wants to keep off-limits?”
“And why,” Kelly added, “was a teenage boy, who was at a live-fire demonstration on post earlier today, wandering around in the night?”
Kelly’s leg hurt. Not that she would mention her discomfort to Phil. The mishap in the woods had caused him too much of a delay already. He and the chaplain needed to notify Taylor’s widow of what had happened as soon as possible. A difficult task, to say the least.
Still concerned about the wounded teen, Kelly called the Freemont police and told the dispatcher about the injured youth. He promised to send an officer to check the woods in case Kyle was still in the area.
“I’ll call them back tomorrow and see if they found Kyle,” Kelly said once she hung up.
Phil nodded, then pulled his eyes from the road and glanced at her injured leg. “How are you doing?”
“Fine.”
“Really?”
“It smarts a bit, but nothing I can’t handle.”
“I still think you need to have it X-rayed.”
“A couple doses of ibuprofen and I’ll be good as new.”
“Right.”
As they rounded a bend in the road, Kelly spied the mailbox and the split rail fence. Phil pulled up next to another car that had stopped just before the narrow dirt driveway.
Lieutenant Bellows lowered his window. “I was beginning to get worried, sir, when you didn’t show up. Everything okay?”
“We had a slight delay. Is this the place?”
“Yes, sir. As I mentioned, Corporal Taylor and his wife lived with his mom.”
Phil glanced at the farmhouse sitting on a knoll in the distance. “Let’s get this done.”
“Yes, sir.”
The three vehicles turned onto the drive and headed along a path marked with potholes to a gravel-covered parking area to the left of the house. A porch light illuminated the clearing, sending long shadows into the darkness.
“Stay put and I’ll come around the car to help you,” Phil said to Kelly as he opened his own door. Before he could reach the passenger side, she had stepped onto the gravel.
Putting weight on her ankle sent a razor-sharp pain straight up her leg. She groaned. Not loud, but loud enough for him to extend his arm and grab her elbow.
“I said I’d help you.” He closed her door.
She was grateful the darkness hid her flushed cheeks. She didn’t need the handsome captain, who was standing way too close, to realize she was anything but composed at the present moment.
“I’m fine, really.” She tried to extricate her arm from his hold, but he continued to support her.
“The gravel is uneven, Kelly.”
She shoved her chin up a notch and averted his gaze. Her body’s reaction to his nearness must be the result of the upside-down tumble she’d had in the woods. Everything inside her was out of kilter, including her ability to remain focused on anything except the tall, broad-shouldered guy who had become her shadow.
Surely he was aware of the effect he had on women. Kelly had seen him numerous
times at the club on post surrounded by a gaggle of beautiful women. Okay, maybe that was stretching the point. After all, she wasn’t even sure how many women constituted a gaggle. Three? Four? Maybe five?
But the women she had seen fawning over Phil had been tall and svelte and drop-dead gorgeous. Thinking of her own petite frame, Kelly knew she was anything but svelte. Slender, maybe. Intelligent, yes. But svelte? Definitely not!
Squaring her shoulders, she limped toward the porch and grasped the railing as she climbed the stairs with Phil at her side, his hand supporting her. He leaned closer to ensure she could navigate the last step, causing her knees to almost buckle. Seemed the attentive captain had a strange effect on her equilibrium.
At least she remained upright thanks to his hold on her arm, which proved the captain was good for something. Instantly, she regretted the internal sarcasm.
“You’re too critical of men.” Her mother’s words came back to taunt her. Kelly didn’t need the mental recollection of a chastisement she had heard too often growing up, which was usually followed by, “Your father loves you in his own way.”
Her mother painted a picture of their little family that was anything but pretty to Kelly. Invariably, she chose to ignore the very obvious fact that Kelly’s father had never seen the need to marry her mother.
Kelly was a McQueen—her mother’s maiden name—instead of a LeBlanc. In Kelly’s opinion, the lack of a marriage certificate proved her father, Charles LeBlanc, was only interested in sweet-talking her mother and not establishing a long-term relationship with either her mother or his only child.
Daddy dearest had died thirteen years ago on a dismal night she tried to block out of her mind. Not that she was always successful.
Still holding her elbow, Phil raised his hand to knock just as the farmhouse door flew open. A woman with chestnut hair stood in the doorway, her green eyes alight with expectation. Confusion quickly took the place of the initial glimmer of hope. Her forehead wrinkled and her hand flew to her heart.
“It’s Rick, isn’t it? What happened?”
“I’m Captain Thibodeaux, ma’am. Commander of C Company. We met at the family picnic shortly after the unit returned from Afghanistan.”
