After feeding the menagerie and herself breakfast, Lorie noticed the rural postal delivery pickup stop at her mailbox. Hannah was early today.
“Want to go to the mailbox?”
Colleen wagged and pranced by the door.
Throwing on a straw cowboy hat, Lorie opened the door for Colleen. The three cats raced outside, almost tripping her. Winken, Blinken and Nod had been impulse names that seemed to fit when she first met them, but proved to be appropriate only half the time. When they were awake, they were in constant motion. Off on a critter hunt now, no doubt. As long as they didn’t bring home any rodents or birds, Lorie had no objections.
The morning air smelled of Old Blush China roses and magnolia blossoms. The tree-lined lane was alive with birdsong.
Then, suddenly, it wasn’t.
Stopping in the middle of the lane, Colleen growled.
“What is it, girl?”
Nerves heightening, Lorie scanned the lane and the road for signs of intruders. Straining her ears to listen, Lorie could hear only the distant whine of a semi changing gears on Bobcat Hill.
No crashing in the underbrush. Only silence, with Colleen’s low growl an undertone.
Lorie was halfway to the mailbox. Glancing back at the house, the sensation of being watched grew too strong to ignore.
“Colleen. Come.”
Heading back toward the house, Lorie broke into a run. Something loud buzzed near her ear as her hat flew off her head. A split second later, she heard the report of a rifle.
Lord, help!
Lorie ran, Colleen keeping pace.
Another gunshot ripped through the meadow, a bullet thudding into the magnolia. Lorie ducked behind an oak. Why had she left her cell phone on the nightstand?
After darting from tree to tree, Lorie hesitated. There was little cover in front of the house. Could she make it inside without getting shot?
Wishing she had more experience with dodging and running, Lorie prayed and dashed for the front door. As she tripped on the step, a bullet struck the door frame where she should have been standing and ricocheted into the porch overhang. Lorie threw open the screen. Colleen bounded inside with Lorie on her heels.
Slamming the front door and locking it, Lorie raced to the phone and dialed 911. The emergency operator sounded rational and calm.
“I’m being shot at!” Tossing grammar to the wind, Lorie explained the situation in a few terse words.
“Can you see the shooter?”
“No. Please send someone soon.”
“Relax, ma’am, and stay on the line. I’ve already notified the sheriff’s department, and they have a deputy en route.”
Lorie barely heard the reassurance, straining every part of her to listen for another shot. Colleen padded over to the window and looked out. Noticing, fear stole Lorie’s breath for a moment, but she forced herself to speak.
“Colleen, come!”
The dog hurried to her side by the phone table and leaned into her.
The 911 operator was saying something else.
“What? I’m sorry.”
“I asked if you have anyone with you.”
Lorie reached down to pat Colleen’s elegant head. “Just my dog. The cats are outside.” The realization of their danger slammed a blow to her stomach. “Oh, no, my cats are outside.” Please, Lord, keep them safe.
In the distance, the sound of a siren reached her ears. Please protect the deputy, Lord. The metallic slam of a door up on the road preceded a motor suddenly roaring to life.
“Tell the deputy I think the shooter is headed his way.”
*
Matt was near the southern end of his regular patrol when the call came in from dispatch. The address on Wolf Hollow Trail didn’t strike an immediate chord, but earlier in the month, he’d busted a marijuana growing operation south of there, in Oak Hill. Wondering if this call of shots fired was related, Matt turned left onto the Trail.
Moments later, Dispatch crackled over the radio again.
“The shooter may be headed your way. Do you copy?”
Before Matt could reach for the mike, a black Camaro blew past him at three times the speed limit. Trying to turn on this narrow gravel-and-seal road halfway down a hill would be a nightmare. Frustrating gnawing at his stomach, Matt kept going till he came to the first driveway and did a quick three-point turn.
“Dispatch, this is Unit 5. I am in pursuit of a late-model, black Camaro, license unknown, heading eastbound on Wolf Hollow Trail. Suspect is presumed armed and dangerous.”
Matt sent a prayer heavenward that whoever was driving the car was the assumed shooter. Otherwise, whoever had called in the incident was still in danger.
By the time Matt reached Highway 14, the car had disappeared. With hills in either direction, finding the driver was a fifty-fifty proposition.
“Dispatch, suspect vehicle is no longer in sight. What other units are in the vicinity?”
A burst of static answered him, followed almost immediately with words. “Unit 2 is southbound in your direction. Unit 15 is northbound.” Another moment of silence, and then Dispatch came back on the line.
“Unit 15 has spotted the vehicle and is in pursuit southbound. Unit 5, see the woman. 153 Wolf Hollow Trail.”
“Roger.”
Matt switched off the mike and pounded the steering wheel. He’d come so close to apprehending the guy. Letting out a harsh breath, he reversed the car at the intersection and headed back toward the house in question.
Something about the address bugged him. It was on the edge of his brain. The knowledge eluded him as he drove slowly down the narrow country road.
Passing the mailbox with its numbers clearly attached to the side, Matt turned down the long gravel driveway and arrived at a once-white clapboard house that looked as if it needed more than just a coat of paint. A few of the shingles had blown off the roof. They appeared ancient, as if they’d been there since the higgledy-piggledy house was built. Massive oaks surrounded the place.
As he approached the house, the carport came into view. That blue Mustang looked familiar.
California plate.
It couldn’t be. Could it?
What were the odds?
Parking the patrol unit, Matt got out and walked up onto the porch. He could hear a dog barking on the other side of the door. He was just raising his hand to knock on the screen door when the inner door opened.
The look of surprise on Lorie’s face suggested she’d expected a different deputy.
“Matt.” Her features relaxed, and she gave him a wary smile as she unlatched the old-fashioned wooden screen door.
“You’re the one who reported shots being fired?”
“I was on my way to the mailbox, and I felt—I don’t know, suddenly I thought I was being watched. When I turned to head back to the house, I heard a shot. My hat got knocked off.”
“Show me where.”
Lorie opened the screen door, its rusty springs squawking in protest.
A dog bounded out of the house ahead of Lorie. Making straight for Matt, the dog pranced around him as he held out his fist for her to sniff. A moment later, he petted her, ruffling the fur around her ears.
“Yeah, you’re a good dog, aren’t you?”
Lorie scanned the area, as if trying to sense whether the person who’d shot at her was still anywhere nearby.
A moment later, she apparently spotted the hat and ran to it.
“Wait! Don’t touch it.”
Lorie froze with her hand halfway to the ground.
No popgun had made that hole in the tall-crowned straw hat. Had the bullet struck just a few inches lower—Matt sent a silent prayer of thanks to the Lord that Lorie was still alive.
Lorie’s case had just escalated from stalking to attempted murder.
Matt looked at Lorie as he pulled on latex gloves. “Please go back in the house and wait for me. I’ll be in when I finish processing the scene.” Lorie nodded and headed back to the ho
use. As he watched her go, he noticed an additional shot that had bounced off the door frame. Right at Lorie’s height.
After retrieving the digital camera from the unit, Matt began by photographing the bullet embedded in the porch overhang. He documented the entire area as he searched for the bullet that had struck Lorie’s hat. When he found it lying next to the fence, twenty yards from the house, Matt whistled. The .338 caliber bullet had come from a long-range rifle. Whoever the shooter was, he or she meant business. It was only by God’s grace that Lorie was still alive.
Matt picked up the bullet with latex-gloved hands. Sealing it into an evidence bag, he went to dig out the one that had struck the magnolia tree. Anger rose in his gut. He prayed he could catch this guy, before it was too late.
After he finished cataloging the evidence and stowing it in Unit 5, Matt tapped on the sagging wooden screen door. “Lorie?”
Lorie appeared with a glass of iced tea. “Perfect timing. It’s sweet. I’m having to get back in the habit, after living so long in Southern California.”
Matt accepted the tall glass, ignoring the sweat from the melting ice cubes. He took a long swig, swallowed and smiled. “You haven’t lost your touch.”
She held the door open for him, meaning he had to brush directly by her to reenter the living room. Even the fright she’d had couldn’t overpower her sweet fragrance. Awareness twitched at him.
Get it under control, Matt. Losing your head again is the last thing you need—especially since you need your focus for the case.
Matt took another swallow of tea to clear his thoughts and refocus. He stared at the old upright piano, decked out in Victorian style, with an old-timey swivel seat set before it. So, he’d been right. She did still play an instrument.
Lorie waved a hand at an ancient horsehair sofa that might have been part of the original furnishings of the old house, if it hadn’t actually been on the Ark, and seated herself on a fragile-looking rocking chair. Matt sat and immediately had to reach a hand to steady himself on the sofa’s arm. Old as it was, the horsehair was still slippery.
“Sorry. I should have warned you about Dobbin.”
Matt glanced a question at Lorie as he braced himself against sliding.
“It was my grandparents’ wedding present from well-meaning relatives. Papaw named it for the song.”
“Song?”
“One of their wedding songs had a line about hitching old Dobbin to the shay. Papaw said since he was sure they’d have a golden wedding day, it would be appropriate. I understand Mamaw tried to dissuade him, but once it took root with all their siblings and cousins, well…”
Matt chuckled. “Your grandfather sounds like he had a great sense of humor.”
“He did.” Lorie sniffed once and blinked rapidly. She tucked her feet up onto an ancient hassock that must once have been red and leaned back in the rickety rocking chair. “Much as I miss him, I’m glad he wasn’t around for the trial.”
Setting down the glass of tea, Matt leaned forward. “I’ve read the transcripts. I’m sorry it got so ugly.”
“Thanks. God and my family got me through it, but it wasn’t easy.” Lorie ran a hand over her hair, ending the gesture by looking at her watch. “Oh, my, the time—I have to call Jen and get her to open without me, unless…?”
“I just have a few more questions. Call Jen. It shouldn’t be long.”
Lorie fetched her cell phone and completed the call with just a few short words, not explaining anything. Genuine admiration warmed Matt’s chest. Not many people could manage to keep Jen Burkhalter to a one-minute call.
“Now.” Lorie laid the phone on the coffee table. “You have more questions?”
Seeing her looking like this, so vulnerable and, aside from the dog, alone, Matt wished he didn’t have to ask her anything about a case. Resigned, he pulled the notebook he still preferred to his smartphone out of his shirt pocket.
“Just a few. Particularly, one. Who wants you dead?”
SIX
Matt’s question rocked Lorie.
“I’ve asked myself that repeatedly. According to everything the press could dig up, Carl had no family. His mother in Colombia was dead. The grandparents who raised him were murdered just outside Bogotá.”
“Birth father?”
Lorie shrugged. “Who knows?”
“No siblings, cousins?”
Lorie shook her head. “He appeared to be the last of his line. As for his job, the hole in leadership must have filled immediately, though his death definitely slowed the flow of drugs for a long time. When I was in San Diego, I figured the harassment was because of the notoriety of the case. But here? I can’t imagine.”
“How did you first get involved with Grayson Carl?”
“Involved is the wrong word. We didn’t move in the same circles at all. Before that night, I barely knew who he was. Afterward, most of what I learned came from the local news media. There was speculation, rumor, but never any real, hard evidence that he was the drug lord people suspected he might be. He had plenty of legitimate interests and was on a lot of charitable boards.”
Lorie huddled deeper in her chair as her mind replayed the fateful night her life had changed forever.
“The library board decided to have a charity auction. Since Carl was a well-known patron of the arts, they invited him to participate. That was their first mistake. Then they insisted all the senior librarians attend. Their second mistake. Why they thought big shots would want to hobnob with the ‘little’ people beats me. Believe it or not, I thought my biggest problem was going to be what to wear.” Lorie could hear the bitter tone in her voice, but she was beyond caring.
“We librarians had a table at the back of the room, not quite by the kitchen doors, but close. All the VIPs were nearer the front, including Grayson Carl. What nobody knew was that Candace Montoya, one of the county library board members, was apparently having an affair with Carl.”
“Go on.”
Lorie’s stomach twisted and her heart began to race at the memories. “Near the end of the auction, Candace went to the ladies’ room. I decided to freshen up at the same moment. Bad timing.”
Lorie’s head began to pound at what was coming next. She would have loved to banish the memory forever, but it always hovered just under the surface.
“Carl followed her into the bathroom lobby. From the raised voices I heard, it sounded like she’d uncovered his illegal activities and was threatening to expose him. All I wanted was to escape. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. When I finished drying my hands and entered the lobby, they were struggling over a gun. He made her drop it, and it slid straight to me.”
Lorie shuddered. “When he saw the gun at my feet, he lunged at me. I tried to keep it away from him but we struggled over it. I can’t remember exactly what happened, but the gun went off. The force knocked me to the floor. I can still hear his curses as he lay dying.”
“Surely the local police assessed the situation.”
“Yes. But Candace said the gun was Carl’s. It turned out to be unregistered, no telling where it came from. They tried to turn that against me at the trial. They also used the fact that Candace Montoya wasn’t there to testify on my behalf.”
“She wasn’t?”
“No. After I saved her life, she ran away. She never showed up at the trial at all. The P.I. my lawyer hired tried to find her, but it was as if she’d vanished in a puff of smoke. She didn’t even try to help me. I have such a hard time trying to forgive her for that.”
“Anyone would.”
“But how can I call myself a Christian and not forgive her? She must have been terrified the cartel would come after her.” Another shiver racked her body. “I know I was.”
Matt reached out and took her hands in his. Her hands were so cold. Warmth radiated into her.
“The police shouldn’t have blamed you.”
“Look at it from their point of view. The altercation took place in a bathroom, so there were
no surveillance cameras to tell my side of the story. People embroidered freely, connecting me with Carl. Somehow, his people managed to plant evidence that he’d been sending me messages, to an email address I seldom used. I have no idea how they did that and managed to get the dates correct, but they did it.”
“Hackers are good at what they do.”
Lorie pulled her hands from Matt’s warm ones and petted Colleen as if her life depended on it. “The trial was a circus. It’s only God’s grace I got off. Carl’s people were outraged, and my life in San Diego County was basically over.” A wave of nostalgia for all she’d lost washed over her.
“I moved as soon as I could get a buyer for my house. That took months. Sent off an application to the county board here, and since I got the job, I’ve been gradually fixing up my grandparents’ old house. Now this. I don’t want to have to move again. If it comes to a showdown… This place has always been home. I don’t know where else I could go.”
Of course, that decision could be taken out of her hands at any moment.
“We’re gonna get this guy, whoever he is,” Matt promised.
Those wonderful blue eyes were so sincere. Lorie wished she could believe him, but, like the news media, the law had caused her nothing but trouble. She had no reason to believe this time was any different.
*
Back at the station, Matt carried the bullets he’d found to ballistics. Deputy DeShaun Bonney accepted the bag, grimacing at it.
“Hey, man. We got a backlog, you know?”
“I figured. But get to it as soon as you can, yeah? See if you can match it to any recent shootings, especially drug-cartel related. It’s important.”
Bonney raised a brunet eyebrow. “Cartel, huh? Your little meth-lab investigation getting interesting?”
“I wish!” Matt let out a sigh. “Probably not. It’s another case. Put a rush on it if you can.”
Heading to his desk to tackle the rest of his workload, Matt was disgruntled to realize he couldn’t get Lorie the Librarian off his mind. Her story had been unsettling. From everything he could see concerning the confusing case, it was only answered prayer Lorie hadn’t been convicted of premeditated murder.
Love Inspired Suspense June 2014 Bundle 2 of 2: Forced AllianceOut for JusticeNo Place to Run Page 48
