Читать книгу Defender for Hire - Shirlee McCoy - Страница 11

TWO

Go. Don’t look back...

The words echoed through Tessa’s mind as she ran up the steep hill that overlooked her house. Sweat slipped down her neck and pooled in the hollow of her throat, her breath heaving as she crested the rise and headed down the path that led to the Spokane River. Her dog, Bentley, panted along beside her, his muscular body relaxed, his one good ear upright. At nearly a hundred pounds, the huge mutt was large enough to discourage unwanted attention. He was also smart and alert enough to warn her of danger.

She’d chosen him for that and for his sweet, goofy ugliness. Long black fur over a homely face, one blue eye and one brown, he’d been abused by a previous owner but had still had the exuberance of a puppy when she’d found him at a shelter two years ago.

And now it was the five-year anniversary of Daniel’s and Andrew’s murders.

Don’t look back.

But how could she not when everything she loved was in the past?

She picked up her pace, running until her muscles cramped and her body ached. Finally, she couldn’t run another step and she pressed her elbows to her knees, trying to catch her breath.

Darkness had fallen, purple-black and thick. No moon. No streetlights. Just the Spokane River lapping softly at its banks and the distant lights of the city hinting at civilization. Dear God, how she wished she could find a place she could stay for longer than a few months or a year.

She straightened, a half-formed prayer nudging at the back of her mind, a cry from the heart that she didn’t want to acknowledge. God hadn’t answered her prayers five years ago, and she didn’t expect Him to now. She didn’t even want to bring her hopes and dreams before Him because she’d been devastated when He hadn’t answered before, despondent when everything she’d ever cared about had been yanked away.

She couldn’t lay the responsibility for that in God’s hands, but she couldn’t take it out of His hands, either. He could have changed things, could have saved her husband and brother-in-law or taken her with them.

She still didn’t understand why He hadn’t.

“Come on, Bentley. Let’s go home,” she said, hoping that her voice would chase away the melancholy mood. Every year, she got the rose. Every year she felt this way.

This year had been different, though.

This year, she’d gotten the spider.

Despite what she’d told Seth, she didn’t think it had been sent by mistake. Someone knew that her brother-in-law had kept a pet tarantula when they were on mission to Kenya. Someone had wanted to remind her of that.

As if she needed any reminders.

Her legs trembled as she jogged back up the hill and into the deep woods that separated her from home. Sweat cooled on her cheeks and she shivered. Early November, and the temperature was already in the thirties. This would be her first winter in eastern Washington. If she stayed.

Five years. Five towns.

Soon, it would be six, then seven and eight.

How many before she could finally stop running?

Bentley growled low in his throat, tugging furiously against the leash. It almost slipped from Tessa’s grip, and she tightened her hold.

“What is it, Bentley?”

The dog growled again, his muscles taut, his body angled to the left. The night was silent and heavy, the woods and path still, but something whispered through the darkness, a quiet breath of movement that rustled the thick carpet of dry leaves.

“Hello?” Tessa called, her heart slamming against her ribs, her body numb with terror. She’d never felt as if she were in danger before—the roses had always seemed like a reminder of what would happen if she ever told the world the truth, which of course, she wouldn’t. She had Daniel’s legacy to protect. The work they’d done together, the children and villagers that they’d helped. She wouldn’t risk those things.

Bentley let out a sharp warning, and she knew she’d better heed it. She pivoted away from the deep shadows, racing down the path toward home, Bentley lunging against her hold, snarling as he tried to get at whatever was coming up behind them.

Branches snapped, leaves crackled, feet pounded. Hers? Someone else’s?

Pop!

Something whizzed through the darkness and Bentley yelped, stumbling. Tessa turned and saw something coming toward them. Black and broad against the navy sky, swooping in. She screamed, dropping the leash as Bentley snarled again and tried to run.

Another high pitched yelp, and then silence except for Tessa’s ragged breaths and the thud of her pulse in her ears. Something slammed into her back and she fell hard, her hands and knees skidding across leaves and dirt, her mind sliding back five years. A tiny hut on the outskirts of a Kenyan village. Screams and terror and Daniel whispering for her to run.

She tried to shut it out, shut it off, force her mind and her body back to the present moment and the fight, but hands were around her throat, lips pressing close to her ear.

“I haven’t forgotten. Have you?”

How could I? She wanted to ask, but she had no air, no thoughts. Blackness edged in, and she bucked against her captor, trying to use her weight to throw him off.

She had no strength.

Bentley snarled, the sound echoing in Tessa’s ears.

Run! she wanted to shout. Go home!

Her attacker’s hands tightened, then released. Gone. As if he had never been there at all.

Tessa wasn’t sure if she was in the past or the present. In Africa or Pine Bluff. Didn’t know if she was hurt or okay. Silence settled as thick as the darkness that pressed in all around her. She drifted in it, cold seeping through her clothes and settling in her bones.

Bentley whimpered, his nose nudging her cheek before he collapsed beside her.

She reached for him, her movements sluggish and uncoordinated. Warm fur, and something sticky and wet. Blood?

She had to get him home.

Had to call the police and get help.

First, she had to move.

She rolled to her side and pushed up to her knees, touching Bentley’s silky head. “We need to get out of here.”

She stood, her legs shaking, and Bentley struggled to his feet, huffing quietly in the darkness. He limped beside her as they maneuvered down the steep path.

She pulled out her cell phone and called 911, her voice raw as she explained the situation and gave her address. Her throat ached, her head pounded and she shivered with cold and fear, but Bentley was her first priority.

She disconnected, cutting the 911 operator off midsentence and dialing Bentley’s veterinarian. Dr. Amy Spenser was almost as new to Pine Bluff as Tessa was. Neither of them had family or kids, and it had seemed natural to strike up a friendship. They’d gone shopping for furniture together, accepting that each had her secrets and a limit to how deep a connection she wanted to make.

“Hello?” Amy answered on the first ring, her voice soft and smooth with just a hint of an accent.

“It’s Tessa. Bentley’s been hurt.” Tessa didn’t have time for long explanations. Sirens were already blaring through the quiet night. Tessa’s house loomed ahead, lights shining out from every window. Since Daniel’s murder, she always left the lights on. Tonight, she was more than grateful for the habit.

“What happened?”

“I don’t know. We were out on a run and someone attacked me. Bentley tried to help...” She recalled the pop and Bentley’s whimper. Tried to make sense of it. “He may have been shot.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll be at your place in ten minutes.” Amy hung up, and Tessa shoved the phone back into the pocket of her running vest.

“You’ll be okay, boy,” she murmured, more to reassure herself than Bentley. He limped beside her, slower than usual, but still moving.

That had to be a good sign.

Didn’t it?

The woods opened out into her backyard, the long expanse of grass unobstructed by trees or shrubs. No sign of anyone lurking nearby, but her heart raced as she urged Bentley across the half-acre lot.

She rounded the side of the house and froze as Bentley barked.

A man sat in the old porch swing, his dark blond hair gleaming in the porch light, his scarred face familiar.

Seth Sinclair.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, taking a quick step back.

Seth watched Tessa back away from the porch and from him. The sirens he’d been hearing for the past few minutes grew louder, the sound blaring though the darkness.

“I brought the tarantula to the pet store.” He held up the white envelope he’d come to deliver. “I thought you might want this.”

“Just leave it on the swing.” She eyed him warily, her hand clutching the leash of an oversize dog. Loose hair fell across her cheeks but didn’t hide what looked like bruises on her neck.

Something was wrong. Very wrong.

Seth stood slowly, afraid if he moved too quickly, she’d run. “What happened?” he asked, walking down the porch stairs, the sirens still screaming.

“We ran into some trouble in the woods.”

Seth thought they’d run into more than “some trouble.” Tessa’s running pants were ripped at the knee, her vest covered with dead leaves. “You need to sit down before you fall down.”

He touched her arm, and she jerked back, her eyes wide with fear. “Who gave you my address, Seth?”

“I asked around. It wasn’t difficult to find you in a town this size.” He took her arm as gently as he could and tried to urge her up the porch stairs, but she held her ground.

“You can go home. Bentley and I will be fine.” She tugged at the dog’s leash, calling to him as she tried to walk to the house.

The dog whined but refused to move.

“He’s hurt,” Seth pointed out, though he was sure that Tessa already knew it.

“The vet is on the way.” Her voice sounded hollow, her face so white, he thought she might collapse.

He needed to get her inside, and he needed to do it now. He crouched next to the dog and let Bentley sniff his hand. He’d seen some homely mutts before, but Tessa’s was about as ugly as they came. Ugly and huge.

“Come on, boy. Let’s get you inside where it’s safe.” He slid his arms under the dog and was rewarded with a sloppy kiss that he would have wiped away if he’d had a free hand.

“You can’t carry him. You’ll hurt your shoulder,” Tessa protested.

“It’s already hurt,” he grunted, the strain of the hundred-pound dog dragging at his injured arm. “And if you don’t open the door so I can get inside now, it’s going to hurt more.”

She frowned, but ran to the door. Dirt clung to her pants and her down vest. Her elbow peeked through a rip in her long sleeved T-shirt, the skin raw and bleeding. She was worried about her dog’s well-being—Seth was worried about her.

She ushered him through a large foyer and into a nearly empty living room. A dark brown couch stood against a wall and a rocking chair sat in front of a fireplace. A throw rug in muted greens and blues lay in the middle of the floor. No coffee table. No shelves. No books or magazines or photographs. A blank slate with cream-colored walls and dark wood trim.

“You can put him on the couch,” Tessa said, her voice trembling. “He’s bleeding. I really hope his vet gets here soon.”

He placed the dog on the couch and took Tessa’s arm. “Let’s worry about you now, okay? Sit,” he commanded, leading her to the rocking chair.

“The police—”

“I’ll handle it,” he cut in.

She leaned her head back against the rocking chair and closed her eyes.

“For the record,” she murmured, “I’m not good at taking orders.”

“I’m not ordering. I’m helping. But I’ll keep that in mind for the future.” He pulled a throw from the back of the rocking chair and tucked it around her. She still smelled like vanilla, under the musty aroma of earth, dead leaves and fear.

He shoved the envelope he’d brought her into his pocket and opened the front door, waiting impatiently as a police car pulled up in front of the house.

Seth knew the officer who got out of the car. Deputy Sheriff Logan Randal had a reputation for fairness and a drive for justice. Seth had worked with him on a few occasions, and he had a lot of respect for the guy.

“We got a call that someone was assaulted?” Randal asked as he approached the house, his eyes narrowing at Seth. “What are you doing here, Sinclair?”

“I know the home owner.”

“You’re the boyfriend?”

“No, he’s not my boyfriend.” Tessa edged in beside Seth, her shoulder brushing his arm. “Not that that has anything to do with what happened.”

“It has a lot to do with it, ma’am. Most victims know their attacker.” Randal moved forward, forcing them both to step back into the foyer.

“I didn’t know mine,” Tessa insisted.

“How about we sit down, and you can explain what happened?” Randal suggested. He placed a hand on Tessa’s shoulder and led her down the wide hall.

Seth could have taken that has his cue to leave, but Randal would want to interview him when he finished with Tessa.

That was as good an excuse as any to follow them into a large kitchen. Like the living room, it was pristine and nearly empty, the walls light yellow, the cupboards bright white. A small round table sat in the center of the oversize room, four chairs positioned at perfect intervals around it.

Randal pulled one out for Tessa and motioned for her to sit, his gaze on Seth.

“If you want to go home, I can send an officer to your place,” he suggested.

“I don’t mind waiting.” As a matter of fact, Seth was set on sticking around. He didn’t know what had happened out in the woods, but it was obvious Tess was in trouble. It wasn’t his problem, but if he could help out, he planned to.

“Then how about you wait in the living room or in your car? Another officer should be here shortly. He’ll take your statement if I’m not finished with Tessa by then.”

“How long will this take? My dog is injured, and I need to make sure he’s seen by the vet,” Tess cut in, her fingers tapping against the tabletop.

“You said the vet was on the way,” Seth reminded her.

She nodded. “She is, but I don’t want Bentley to injure himself more while he’s waiting.”

“I’ll wait with him,” Seth offered.

That would make Tessa and Randal happy. Seth wasn’t so sure it would make him happy. He wanted to know what had happened to Tessa, and he wanted to know who to blame. Tessa had been quick to deny knowledge of her attacker, but that didn’t mean she’d been attacked by a stranger.

He fingered the envelope, half tempted to toss it on the kitchen table and let Tessa explain who it was from and how it was possible that the tarantula and the attack weren’t connected.

He’d wait, though. Give her a chance to tell Randal what she needed to. She was almost a stranger, after all, and he had no right to barge into her life and take control.

That’s what his sister, Piper, would probably say. His three brothers would have a different view of the situation.

But Tessa’s opinion was all that mattered. She’d tell the deputy sheriff what she needed to. With or without Seth’s prodding.

He hoped.

The doorbell rang as he walked into the living room, and the front door swung open. A mousy brunette rushed inside. She glanced in Seth’s direction, her gaze dropping to Bentley, who lay still and quiet on the sofa.

She hurried to the dog’s side, putting her hand on his head, sliding it down toward an area on Bentley’s haunch that was glossy and slick with blood. “Where’s Tessa?”

“Speaking with the police.”

“I’m Amy Spenser. Bentley’s veterinarian.” She opened the dog’s mouth, examined his gums. “He’s in shock. I’m going to have to take him to the clinic. Tessa!” she called, her attention focused on the dog, her dark eyes nearly hidden behind the thick lenses of her glasses.

“Right here.” Tessa hurried into the room with Deputy Sheriff Randal right behind her.

Amy’s gaze cut from one to the other, then settled on Tessa. “I’m going to take him to the clinic and start some fluids. You said you thought he was shot?”

“I heard a pop. Nothing like other gunfire I’ve heard, but I don’t know what else it could have been.” Tessa touched the dog’s scruffy chin, her red hair sliding over her shoulder, nearly hiding the bruises on her neck.

“If it’s a gunshot wound, the perpetrator might have used a silencer.” Randal leaned over Bentley, touching the bloodied area. “We’ll need the bullet if there is one.”

“I’ll keep it for you,” the vet responded. “Right now, though, I need to get Bentley stabilized.”

“I’ll carry him out to your car,” Tess said, patting the dog’s big head, her hand trembling.

If he’d known her well, Seth would have taken her hand, tried to still the tremors.

“Let me,” he said instead, sliding his arms under the dog and lifting him from the couch. The poor mutt didn’t even whimper.

Cold wind knifed through Seth’s jacket as he followed Dr. Spenser to an SUV and lowered Bentley into the back. The dog licked his hand, its tail thumping. No wonder Tessa had given him a home.

Seth closed the hatch, his shoulder throbbing. He’d been up since before dawn. After therapy, he’d dropped off Tessa’s unwanted pet and then gone to the office where he poured over files until his neck cramped and his eyes crossed. He needed to go home and stretch the kinks out, maybe go for a run to clear his head. What he shouldn’t do was get involved in Tessa’s troubles. He’d been through six years of trouble. First Julia’s death, then his injury, his surgery, his recovery. He didn’t need or want anything more than what he’d finally achieved: normalcy, and a little peace.

He had a feeling that peace was the last thing he’d have if he didn’t get in his truck and drive away.

Sometimes, though, peace was overrated. Sometimes God put a person in just the right place at just the right time to accomplish His will and plan. It could be that Seth had been dropped into Tessa’s life at exactly the right moment to lend a hand.

He couldn’t turn away from that. No matter how much he thought he should.

He shoved his hand in his pocket, his fingers brushing the envelope that had brought him to Tessa’s house. He’d planned to deliver it to her, and that was exactly what he was going to do.