Читать книгу A Trace Of Memory - Valerie Hansen - Страница 12

THREE

Emma dressed in the comfortable lavender outfit Cleo had loaned her, then went back to the upstairs window while towel drying her hair. Shadows had lengthened, giving the farmyard a more somber aura. There sat Travis’s truck and the stock trailer, just as he’d left them.

She unlocked the window and raised the sash to let in fresh air, inhaling deeply and sighing. No matter what was wrong with her, this was the best place to be. She didn’t know how she could be so certain of that, yet she was. Her heart insisted.

The sound of barking dogs reached her and she listened carefully. They didn’t sound angry anymore. Their yelps were shrill, as if they were keyed up and frustrated.

By leaning slightly to the side, Emma was able to view the source of the noise. All three of the dogs Travis had taken with him were confined in a pen next to the barn and jumping at the wire gate, acting frantic to escape.

Her throat tightened. Her pulse sped. If the dogs were there, where was Travis? Did he pen them up every night or was this evening different? There was only one way to find out.

Donning her tennis shoes, Emma hurried down the stairs in search of Cleo. They met in the kitchen where the older woman had hold of the old dog’s collar while it whined and scratched at the back door.

“What’s going on?”

Cleo was clearly worried. “Don’t know. Bo all of a sudden wants out.”

“Why not let him go?”

“Because I don’t know what became of Travis. I heard him come back with the other dogs while you were taking your shower but then he hopped on the ATV and left again.” She kept trying to calm the antsy hound.

“I could see from upstairs that he’d put the others in a pen. Is that normal?”

“No. We let the young ones patrol at night to keep the wild critters away from the chickens and such.”

“Then call the police,” Emma said, trying to mute her burgeoning fear.

“But you said...”

“I know what I said,” Emma replied. “But that was when I thought I’d gotten away clean. If you think Travis is in trouble you need to call the authorities.”

“What kind of trouble?” Cleo demanded. “Who’s chasing you, girl?”

“I don’t know. Honest, I don’t. But I sense enough to be afraid. Do you have another gun?”

“Lots of ’em. This is hunting country. Why?”

“Because you should go arm yourself. Now.” She reached for the collar. “I’ll hold on to Bo for you.”

She was glad to see Cleo was taking her seriously. The sense of foreboding she’d had all along was building so rapidly it was making her light-headed.

Alone in the kitchen, she closed her eyes for a momentary prayer, quickly coming to the conclusion she must act. But how? What could she do that would be sensible as well as useful? In the movies, a heroine always plunged into danger without a thought, often ending up in a worse fix. She wasn’t that foolish. Still, if Travis was in trouble, she also knew she couldn’t just stand there like a deer frozen in the headlights of an oncoming car and wait for the worst.

Cleo returned with a shotgun and a box of shells. As her gaze met Emma’s she hesitated. “You used to be a good shot. Is that part of your memory gone, too, or do you still know how to handle one of these if you have to?”

“It’s mostly the last few months and years that are missing.” She held out her hand. “Give me the gun. I know what to do.”

“Not sure that’s a good idea,” Cleo said with a cautious shake of her head. “Not till we know what’s wrong with you. No offense, but you might not be the most levelheaded person to carry this, even if it is kinda heavy for me.”

“You’re right. And it has been a long time since I was on the high-school skeet-shooting team.”

“Bo’s leash is hanging over there by the door. You can handle him,” Cleo said, filling her pockets with loose shotgun shells. “I’ll tote this double-barrel, at least for a ways.”

“Shouldn’t we wait for the sheriff?”

“No way. They said it’d be about twenty minutes when I called.”

“Which leaves another fifteen. You’re right. That’s too long,” Emma agreed. She reached for the leash and snapped it on the dog’s collar before picking up a heavy-duty spotlight.

“Take it slow when you open the door and let me go out with the dog, first,” Emma warned. “Just in case.”

What remained unsaid was the ominous thought that the first person to step through that door might be in terrible jeopardy.

Nevertheless, Emma gathered her courage and led the way. To her surprise and relief, they made it off the porch and through the yard unscathed.

Beyond lay a deeper darkness, the kind that could hide more than a mere threat. It could mask death. And they’d never see it coming.

* * *

Travis kept to the trees as much as possible even though that wasn’t the fastest way back to the ranch house. Until the last lingering rays of the sun vanished behind the hills he didn’t want to try cutting across pastures and make himself an easier target.

After the first two shots into the ATV, he hadn’t heard any more firing. That might mean his enemies had given up, or it might mean they were hot on his trail and could draw another bead at any moment.

Noises carried well on the still, late-evening air and were composed mostly of night birds and distant barking. “Sounds like my dogs have riled up every other canine for miles around, not to mention a few coyotes,” he murmured, pausing to rest and recheck his surroundings from the edge of the forest.

Every window of his house glowed, making him wish he’d cautioned the women to pull the curtains and stay where they couldn’t be seen. Surely, Cleo would think of that. She was a savvy old gal who was used to using her head for something besides a place to put a hat.

As Travis moved from tree to tree at the fringes of the rolling pasture he saw more lights come on at his place. The entire yard was now illuminated. The only advantage to that was being able to see if any strangers approached.

He suddenly saw movement at the rear of the house and heard Bo’s distinctive baying. The old dog had struck a trail. Which meant somebody had let him out. That was not a good sign.

Travis peered around the trunk of a massive oak and scanned the area by the barn. He could see plenty from there and none of it was to his liking.

Two slightly built shadows had opened a pasture gate and were passing through with Bo in the lead. If he had to guess, he’d say Emma and Cleo were using the dog to track someone, probably him. Of all the lamebrained...

He watched the figures reach the periphery of the better-lit grounds and pause. One of them flicked on a strong beam of light and directed it at the straining, baying hound.

Travis was beside himself. Not only were the women out of the house, where they had no protection, they were lit up like a beacon, a perfect target for whoever had shot at him before.

Waving his arms and shouting, he did the only thing he could. He broke cover and ran headlong across the pasture toward the two most important people in his life.

A rifle cracked.

Travis dived for cover.

The spotlight went out.

A woman screamed.

* * *

“Stay down!” Emma shouted, tugging on Cleo’s arm to bring her closer to the ground.

“Did you see where that shot came from?”

“No. But I think I did see somebody fall. All I got was a glimpse. Did you see it, too?”

“Yes. Let the dog loose so we can tell which direction he goes without sticking our heads up.”

“I think I hear sirens,” Emma said. “Must be the sheriff. Finally.”

“Who is sure gonna wonder what became of me after I called,” Cleo added, sounding disgusted. “Think we can crawl all the way back?”

“I doubt we’ll have to. I imagine the lights and sirens will scare off whoever’s out there.” She raised up slightly, pushed the handheld light as far away from them as she could reach, then turned it on again before scrambling back to Cleo.

Nothing happened. Nobody shot. Bo had disappeared and had quit baying.

A patrol car stopped in the farmyard. Officers got out, drew their guns and headed for the gaping kitchen door.

Emma took Cleo’s elbow to help her up. “I think we’re safe now. You keep the shotgun and head straight for the police car. I’ll be right behind you.”

Since the pasture was used for grazing it didn’t have to be perfectly flat, meaning that Cleo and Emma both did their share of stumbling as they tried to hurry.

As Cleo reached the metal gate, Emma paused. Her companion was safe. Trouble was, they still didn’t know what had become of Travis.

A shiver skittered up her spine. Emma froze. Turned on her heel. Stared into the dimness.

Could the falling figure have been Travis? She supposed so. Either him or whoever had shot at them, and given the opposing directions, she judged the rifle to have been farther away and to the left.

Sounds of muffled steps in the dry stubble of grass reached her. Someone was coming her way. Fast.

Shadows moved. Bent over the light Emma had abandoned in the field. It swung to briefly shine on her, then was turned up to illuminate a face.

“Travis!”

“Don’t shoot at me again, okay?”

Emma was adamant. “We never shot at anything. Besides, Cleo brought a shotgun. What we heard was a rifle, or have you forgotten what one sounds like?”

He was beside her quickly. “I haven’t forgotten a thing. But apparently you have. What happened to being scared? I thought you were petrified that some bad guy would catch up to you.”

“I was. I still am.” She shook him off when he tried to cup her elbow.

“Then what are you doing out of the house?”

“We were worried about you. Bo was acting up so we decided to come look for you while we waited for the sheriff.”

“Not the smartest thing either of you has ever done.”

“You don’t hear me arguing, do you?”

“When we get to the gate, make a run for the house. I’ll cover you.”

“Against who? We never saw a thing, did you?”

“Just because you don’t see a copperhead doesn’t mean he’s not fixing to bite you,” Travis said flatly.

Emma could tell he was struggling to control his temper and she didn’t blame him. She and Cleo had both let their emotions get the better of their common sense and they were fortunate nothing worse had happened.

Doing as she’d been told, she darted through the gate and raced for the back porch. Just as she reached the steps, Bo galloped past her and through the open door.

Emma sensed rather than saw Travis until he slammed the door behind them. Her soul-deep relief was so strong, so genuine, she almost turned and hugged him.

Judging by his poignant expression when her eyes met his, he wouldn’t have pushed her away if she had given in and stepped into his arms.

* * *

Sheriff Harlan Allgood had remained behind while his deputy returned to the station, promising to check the woods and help retrieve the disabled ATV in daylight.

Cleo had made a fresh pot of coffee and everyone was gathered around the kitchen table.

Travis had barely taken his eyes off Emma since they’d returned to the house. He was still trying to decide if she’d been acting foolishly because she cared about him or because her mind was too scrambled to think logically. Or both.

“I get little flashes of things,” Emma said in reply to the sheriff’s questioning. “It’s like I’m starting to remember and then my brain shuts down.”

“What do you think you’re seeing? Any clues may help, even if you can’t make sense of them yet.”

Travis grasped his coffee mug tightly as he watched Emma’s emotional struggles.

She closed her eyes, then said, “I remember running away. I was terrified and somebody was chasing me.”

“Where was this?” Harlan asked, speaking softly.

“I don’t know. It was dark out when I finally got a door open and escaped.” Her brow knit before her eyes popped open. “I ran past some parked trucks! Pickups. Then I hit the woods.”

Her fingertips touched her cheeks. “There were lots of brambles—like sticker vines—hanging from the trees. They were so thick it was hard to get through them at all.”

“Meaning you were probably still in the South,” Cleo ventured.

“Yes!” Emma sounded encouraged. “And it only took me a day or so to hitchhike home, so it couldn’t have been far.” She glanced over at Travis. “Did I say anything about that when you picked me up?”

“No. I had to work to even see your face at first,” he replied, taking care to try to keep his voice neutral. “All you wanted was to go home, so I brought you here.”

With a deep sigh, Emma nodded. “That’s right. You reminded me that my father had passed on and Mom had moved away. I sort of knew that. I seem to recall that she went to California to live with her sister.”

Harlan agreed. “That’s right. Do you want me to see if I can get ahold of her for you?”

Travis wasn’t surprised to see Emma shake her head.

“No,” she said. “Not yet. Not until I know what’s really going on and who has been chasing me. I mean, why me? What can I have done that would make anybody want to lock me up or hurt me?” Her hand drifted to her bruised cheek.

There were unshed tears in her eyes as she looked to Travis, then Cleo, before focusing on the portly lawman. “I have made up my mind about one thing, though. I’m not staying here. I’ve brought enough trouble to these folks and as long as I’m around, it won’t stop.”

Cleo started to reach for Emma’s hand. Travis beat her to it. “Don’t be silly. Where else can you go?”

“I don’t know. But I’m not staying on with you. Look what’s happened already.”

The sheriff cleared his throat. “To be fair, you don’t really know the incident in the woods had anything to do with you, Miss Emma. Could have been poachers or just some rowdies.”

Travis disagreed but chose to keep that opinion to himself. If Emma left the ranch, there would be no way he could continue to look after her. And, if her vague memories ever fully returned, he figured she’d need a friend. Someone like him, who truly cared for her. Plus, Cleo was a stabilizing influence and nearly as capable of defending her as he was, providing she didn’t go on any more quests after dark.

The sheriff cleared his throat and got to his feet. “Well, if there’s nothing else, I’ll be going. Thanks for the coffee, Miz Cleo. I’ll see you tomorrow, Travis. You’ll need to show me where you left your ATV so we can have a look at it.”

Cleo arose to walk Harlan to the door while Travis remained with Emma, still grasping her hand, tightly yet gently, and rubbing the back of it with his thumb.

“How bad is it?” he asked in a near whisper. “When you have these flashes of memory, how bad is it?”

Emma closed her eyes. A single tear slid down her cheek. “I see colors, dark colors, and red, like blood. Bits of faces, too, peering at me through slatted blinds.” She took a shuddering breath. “I want to look away but I can’t. Sometimes there’s cursing, and creepy laughter, as if the person is enjoying torturing me.”

“I’m so sorry,” Travis said gently.

Emma’s eyes suddenly popped open. She gasped, covering her mouth with her free hand.

Travis leaned closer. “What is it? What else did you just remember?”

“It can’t be.” Emma’s breathing was shallow and rapid, as though she’d just run a marathon.

“What? Tell me.”

More tears spilled out and wet her bruised cheek. “A child. I see a child. A little blonde girl.”

Travis gave in and put his arms around her as she began to weep in earnest. “Easy, honey. Maybe it’s just your imagination.”

“No.” Emma was adamant. “I—I saw her. And I felt her. She was holding my hand. She trusted me. And for some reason I left her.” Emma turned her tearstained face up to Travis and asked, “How could I do such a thing?”

He had no answer for her. Or for himself.