He squeezed her fingers. “Good.”
Wynter turned to walk out of the greenhouse, waiting for Noah to join her before she closed the flaps. Together they climbed the dirt path that led to her grandpa’s house.
“Is there a reason you stopped by this morning?” she asked.
“Yes.”
Silence. She turned her head to study him with a frown. “Are you going to tell me why?”
His lips twisted into a wry smile. “I can’t remember.”
Wynter flushed, feeling oddly vulnerable. Picking up her pace, she watched her grandpa pull his car to a halt in front of the porch. She’d offered to help put a down payment on a new vehicle a few years ago, but he’d gruffly refused. He had several tractors and an ATV that he used around the farm, and since he rarely went into town, he didn’t see the need for a new car.
She hadn’t pressed. Sander would do whatever Sander wanted to do. End of story.
“Don’t you have to work today?” She pointedly glanced toward his casual clothes.
“Nope. I’m officially off-duty for today, this weekend, and through next week.”
She sent him a startled glance. “I thought you always took your vacation in the summer so you could go deep-sea fishing in Florida?”
He shrugged. “I had some personal time coming to me so I decided to take it.”
A suspicion formed as he deliberately turned his head to study Sander who was getting out of his car. Was he trying to hide his expression?
“Are you going on a trip?” she demanded.
“Nope. I have some long-overdue repairs around the cabin.”
She made a sound of annoyance. She didn’t doubt he had repairs that needed to be made at his cabin, but Noah never took off work. Not unless it was to travel to Florida to go fishing and visit his cousins who still lived in Miami.
“You took off because of me, didn’t you?”
“Does it matter?”
They reached the top of the hill and Wynter pulled her companion to a halt. The last thing she wanted was for him to waste his time off on her. It wasn’t like she needed a babysitter. “Noah—”
“Your grandpa’s glaring at me,” he interrupted with a lift of his brows. “I think it’s time for me to leave.”
“My grandpa glares at everyone.”
“True, but he scares the hell out of me.”
On cue, Sander stomped his way across the driveway to stare at the younger man with a jaundiced frown. “Noah.”
“Hello, Sander,” Noah murmured.
“It’s kinda early for a visit, ain’t it?”
“Grandpa,” Wynter chided. She wasn’t sure the older man realized that she was twenty-nine, not sixteen.
“It’s okay.” Noah shrugged, heading toward his nearby Jeep.
“I’ll see you later,” Wynter called out.
Noah glanced over his shoulder to send her a smile. “Count on it.”
He was turning back when Wynter saw him come to a sharp halt. Almost as if he’d been frozen in place. Then, with a raw shout of alarm, he spun on his heel and lunged back toward her.
“Get down!” he bellowed, slamming into her with shocking force.
Wynter cried out as she hit the ground, banging her head with enough force to make pain explode through her brain. And that wasn’t the only explosion.
She was still flat on the ground with Noah perched on top of her when the concussive blast echoed through the dell below. It sounded like her grandpa’s rusty old car backfiring, but she knew it wasn’t.
Only a rifle could reverberate that loudly.
Had the weapon fallen over? How else would it fire? Struggling to think through the pain, Wynter glanced up in confusion. She expected Noah to be staring down at her. He had, after all, just tackled her like a linebacker. Her ribs were throbbing from the impact. Instead he was glancing to the side, his face tight with an intense emotion.
Ignoring the dull ache at the back of her skull, Wynter forced herself to turn her head to see what had captured his attention.
“No!” The word was a broken cry of disbelief as Wynter caught sight of her grandpa’s slender body crumpled on the driveway, the side of his face stained a brilliant red.
Chapter 10
The waiting room in the small hospital north of Larkin was an exact replica of every other hospital waiting room, Noah decided with a grimace.
A narrow space lined with sofas and chairs built for durability not comfort. A few windows that were covered with blinds. A worn carpet that muffled sound. And a low ceiling with muted lighting that was no doubt expected to offer a sense of calm.
Noah was standing in a corner, silently watching Wynter pace from one end of the long room to the other. It’d been eight hours since they’d rushed behind the ambulance to this hospital. Sander had been treated for the gaping wound where the bullet had grazed the side of his head, along with his busted skull from smacking it against the hard ground. Now he was resting in the ICU.
The doctors assured Wynter and her father that the older man was stable, but Wynter continued to pace. He understood. Her tension wasn’t just concern for her grandfather. And the worst part was that there was nothing he could do. Nothing but stay close and make sure she was safe.
A movement near the entrance to the waiting room captured Noah’s attention, and, shoving away from the wall, he crossed the short distance to stand next to Chelle Simpson. He’d called the policewoman after they’d arrived at the hospital and explained what’d happened. She’d promised she’d head over to the farm to investigate.
“Any word on Sander?” she asked, her expression coolly composed. As if they were strangers, not long time friends.
Noah fully approved of her professional demeanor. He often had to deal with people he’d known for years. When he was in his uniform, he was a conservation officer. That was clearly Chelle’s attitude as well.
“He’s out of surgery, but the doctors have him in an induced coma to prevent his brain from swelling.”
“Do they think he’s going to make it?”
He nodded. The doctor had been in to speak with Wynter and her father less than an hour ago.
“He has as good a chance as any seventy-nine-year-old man who was shot,” he said. “Thankfully he is in reasonably good health and the bullet just scraped the side of his head. He has blood loss from the wound, of course, but most of the damage happened when he fell and hit his head against a rock in the driveway. It cracked his skull.”
“What about Wynter?”
Noah glanced over his shoulder. Wynter was staring in his direction, as if waiting to see if she was needed. Noah gave a small shake of his head. She had enough on her mind right now. He could deal with the police.
He turned back to Chelle. “She’s tired. Terrified for her grandfather. And blaming herself.”
“Blaming herself for what?”
“She’s convinced that she put her grandfather in danger,” he said, his jaw clenching with frustration. He’d done his best to reassure Wynter, but he couldn’t deny a mounting suspicion that Sander wouldn’t be in the hospital fighting for his life if there hadn’t been some lunatic trying to stop Wynter from poking into the past. “Have you been to the farm?”
“Yeah. The rifle was still in the greenhouse,” Chelle told him. “I have it at the lab.”
“Can you tell if it was the weapon used to shoot Sander?”
She shrugged. “It’s impossible to know without having it tested.”
Noah didn’t need any lab results. What were the odds that there’d been a rifle left in the greenhouse and less than ten minutes later Sander had been shot by someone using a rifle from that precise location? “Was there anything that might give a clue to who was responsible?”
“It’s too remote for any security cameras and the roads are all gravel. There’s no way to pull a single tire track.”
Chelle’s expression never changed, but Noah noticed her jaw tightening. She was a good cop, but
this area made any investigation difficult. The very lack of crime meant that people didn’t take the same precautions as those in big cities.
“They do it on TV all the time,” he teased, hoping to lighten her mood.
She didn’t smile, but her lips twitched. “Yeah, they do a lot of stuff on TV,” she admitted. She tilted her head to the side, studying him with a searching gaze. “You didn’t see anything?”
Noah shook his head. He’d been over those brief seconds a hundred times, desperately hoping that he could recall some clue, no matter how minuscule, that might help reveal who’d been in that greenhouse.
“No. I was headed toward my Jeep when the sunlight glinted off the barrel of the rifle sticking out of the side of the greenhouse. Otherwise . . .” His words died on his lips.
He still hadn’t allowed himself to consider what might have happened if he hadn’t glanced back at that precise moment. If he hadn’t managed to knock Wynter to the ground before the bullet whizzed past to hit Sander.
It was too unbearable.
“There wasn’t a vehicle?” Chelle asked.
“I didn’t see one.” Noah was trained to notice his surroundings, especially when he was under stress. There hadn’t been a vehicle in view, but that didn’t mean there hadn’t been one nearby. “There’s a wooded area behind the barns where someone might have parked. If they had been watching Wynter, they could easily have circled down to the greenhouse while we climbed the hill to the house.”
Chelle looked resigned. As if his answer was exactly what she’d been expecting to hear.
“We’re interviewing the neighbors. They’re too far away to be witnesses to the shooting, but they might have noticed a vehicle driving past around the time of the crime,” she said. “And once Sander is able to speak, he might be able to tell us where he spent the morning and if he noticed anyone following him home.”
Noah frowned at her words. “Have you considered the possibility it has something to do with her mother’s death?”
Chelle planted her hands on her hips, as if preparing for a fight. “I’m not ready to jump to conclusions.”
Logical advice. The sort of advice he was struggling to follow. “No one tried to kill Wynter before she started asking questions about the night Laurel was murdered,” he ground out. “Not to mention the fact she’d just received a threatening note.”
“Exactly. Why risk breaking into her apartment to leave a note if the suspect was going to try to kill her hours later? Wouldn’t it make more sense to wait and see if the threat succeeded?” Chelle demanded. “Besides, Wynter wasn’t alone this morning.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re assuming the shooter was aiming at Wynter.”
Noah frowned in confusion. “Who else? It couldn’t have been Sander,” he said. “Or me.”
Chelle arched a brow. “You don’t have any enemies?”
Noah snorted. He’d been a conservation officer for almost nine years in an area where ninety percent of the population hunted, fished, or drove ATVs for sport. He’d pissed off most of them at one time or another. “Plenty, but they wouldn’t follow me to the Moore farm to shoot me,” he pointed out in dry tones. “How often am I alone in the woods? There would be endless opportunities to bump me off without risk of being noticed.”
Chelle rolled her eyes. “Like I said, I don’t want to jump to conclusions. All possibilities are on the table until I have evidence to take them off.” She held up her hand as his lips parted. “Including someone trying to keep Wynter from prying into the past.”
Dammit. She was right. Following the facts was the only way to discover the truth. But that didn’t make it any easier to accept. He hated the feeling they were stumbling in the dark. Noah wanted answers, and he wanted them now.
“We need to narrow down the possibilities ASAP,” he growled.
“I’m working on it.”
There was a tense silence as Noah glanced toward Wynter who continued her pacing, her face as pale as the Easter lilies that used to grow in his grandma’s backyard.
“Did you get the file from the sheriff in Pike?” he abruptly demanded, turning his attention back to Chelle.
He couldn’t do anything to ease Wynter’s fears until they discovered who and why she was being threatened.
“No, but I made the request. I should hear something in the next day or two,” she assured him. She hesitated before adding, “I found out that Tillie Lyddon died shortly after she arrived at the hospital.”
“Damn.” Noah shook his head in regret. “What can I do to help?”
Chelle nodded toward the end of the bustling hallway. “The hospital has a guard on duty here, and as long as Sander is in intensive care, they’ll limit visitors. But I can’t keep a constant eye on Wynter.”
“I can do that,” Noah said without hesitation.
“You’ll take her to the cabin?”
“Yeah.” He’d already warned Wynter she wasn’t returning to the farm or her apartment.
Thankfully she was too shocked to argue.
Chelle’s expression softened. “I assume you still have your mangy pack of mongrels?”
Noah smiled at the mention of the rescue dogs who he’d acquired over the years. They roamed his property and provided more protection than any alarm system he could buy.
“I’ve added two,” he admitted.
Chelle chuckled. Although she was an outdoorsy sort of woman, she’d been less than fond of his dogs. Probably because they tended to swarm any visitor with an overabundance of enthusiasm.
“Of course you have.” She looked like she was going to say more when her phone pinged and she pulled it out to read a message. “I need to head out,” she said.
“Can I go to the farm?”
She sent him a startled glance. “The area where Sander was shot is marked off as a crime scene, along with the greenhouse.”
“I just want to get Wynter’s bag.”
Chelle nodded. “Yeah, you can go in the house. Just avoid the driveway. And bring Wynter by the station tomorrow. I’ll need a formal statement.”
“Thanks, Chelle.”
* * *
Wynter was aware of Chelle and Noah near the entrance to the waiting room, but she couldn’t force herself to join the conversation. Not only was she too distracted with worry for her grandpa, but she knew the policewoman would have insisted on speaking with her if they’d discovered any new information.
The fact that she’d turned to leave with nothing more than a distracted nod meant there was nothing to report.
She swallowed an urge to scream in frustration.
Less than a week ago she’d been going about her business with nothing more to worry about than getting her freezer repaired and replanting the heirloom tomatoes that had early blight. Her life had been predictable to the point of sheer boredom. Now she felt as if the ground was crumbling beneath her feet.
Nothing was as she believed it to be. Her mom wasn’t the woman she had imagined. And the mugging that had taken her away was no longer a tragic accident. Worse, there was some crazy person who had broken into Wynter’s apartment to leave a threatening note before potentially trying to kill her.
At the very least, they’d fired a warning shot.
One that had nearly killed her grandpa.
Pain stabbed through Wynter, but before she could relive that god-awful moment she’d seen Sander lying on the ground with blood covering his face, Noah was thankfully stepping in front of her.
Coming to a halt, she sucked in a slow, deep breath and forced herself to meet his searching gaze with a faint smile. She knew he’d stuck around because he was worried about her, and if she was honest, just knowing he was close by had eased the panic that threatened to overwhelm her. And his offer to allow her to stay at his cabin meant she didn’t have to fret about spending the night alone.
Still, she couldn’t reasonably expect him to be with her 24/7.
“Are you taking off?�
� she asked, her voice artificially bright.
“I’m going to get your bag from the farm,” he told her. “Is there someone I can call to take care of the chores? I’d offer, but I have no idea what needs to be done.”
“Ollie said he would take care of them,” she said. The older man had stopped by a few hours ago, staying until Sander had been out of surgery and on his way to the ICU. “At least for the next few days.”
“That was generous,” Noah murmured.
Wynter hadn’t been surprised. During high school Ollie spent the majority of his time at the farm, working side by side with Sander. They were as close as any father and son.
“He worked for Grandpa for years. To be honest, he was more a part of our family than his own.”
Noah nodded, obviously relieved he wasn’t going to be spending the next several hours hauling around feed and mucking stalls. Wynter didn’t blame him. As much as she loved spending time at the farm, she hated dealing with the tedious everyday tasks it demanded.
“Is there anything else you need?” Noah asked.
“No.”
Stepping close enough to surround her in his rich pine scent, Noah brushed his fingers over her shoulder and down the length of her arm.
“I’ll be back to take you to the cabin. Don’t leave this waiting room.” He grasped her fingers, giving them a squeeze. “Promise?”
She didn’t hesitate. She had no intention of going anywhere until she was convinced her grandpa was in stable condition. Plus, she wasn’t an idiot. Wandering around alone after someone had just taken a shot at her wasn’t in the foreseeable future.
“Yeah, I promise.”
“Good.” Noah brushed his lips lightly over her forehead before he turned to stride out of the room.
Bemused by his casual intimacy, Wynter lifted a hand to touch the skin that tingled from his touch. When had they started kissing good-bye? Not that she was complaining. It felt . . . right. As if the friend zone she’d placed around Noah had been shattered. He wasn’t just a comfortable companion, but a sexy, gloriously perfect man that any woman would be eager to have as a lover.
Still grappling with the implications of her changing relationship with the man who’d been a part of her life for so long, Wynter nearly jumped out of her skin when her father spoke directly in her ear.
Faceless Page 10
