Strangers in the Night (22 page)

Early on, Jake had mentioned hunters, but Abbie feared that the bullet had been meant for her. She expected Travis to come out of the house to see what was going on, but there was no sign of him.

Staying under cover of the woods and scrub brush at the perimeter of Travis's yard, Abbie made her way around to the back of the house. If she could make it to his porch, she could crawl under it and hopefully find protection there. She straightened and looked around, thinking to make a run for it. Someone opened the patio door. Travis. He must have heard the shot and come out to investigate.

Relief lasted about two seconds. Someone wearing a ski mask and sunglasses stepped onto the porch and scanned the treeline alongside the lake through the rifle's scope. He stopped then pointed the rifle point-blank at her. This was no hunter.

She dove into the water just as the rifle exploded. A dozen or more thoughts scrambled through her head. Pain shot through her right leg. She'd been hit.

Fearing the shooter would try again, Abbie ducked behind a large downed tree that floated on the water. The shooter, apparently satisfied that he'd hit her, jumped off the deck and headed into the woods toward Cold Creek.

Abbie forced herself to breathe. The icy water had saturated her clothes, weighing her down. She managed to crawl out of the lake. Sitting on the bank, she lifted her skirt to reveal a cut on her thigh. Blood mixed with water ran down her leg and into her skirt. She was going to be sick.

“Focus, Abbie,” she told herself. “You have to stop the bleeding.”

Shaking more from terror than the cold, she twisted excess water out of her shawl and wrapped her wounded leg as tightly as she could then tied a knot to keep it in place. She fell back against the grassy bank, her mind whirling. She had to get up. Find help. If she could just make it to Travis's house—she could call Jake. But no. What if the shooter had been Travis? He'd come out of the house, hadn't he?

She had to get out of there. Abbie forced herself into a sitting position and turned over to rise up on her knees. She sucked in a deep breath and then, staying low and once again under cover of the woods, made her way to the house. She must have fallen a dozen times. She saw no sign now of the shooter as she emerged from the woods and headed for her car. She was about to get in when a motorcycle pulled into the driveway. The driver took off his helmet as he strode toward her. Travis.

“Abbie.” He stood there, apparently in shock, as his gaze roamed over her wet hair and clothes. “What in the world happened? What are you doing here?”

She started shaking from the chill. “I came out to see you and someone started shooting at me.”

His gaze took in the bloodstains on her skirt. “You're bleeding.”

She looked down at the darkening patch of blood on her thigh where the blood had soaked through. Her knees buckled.

Travis caught her, lifted her into his arms, carried her into the house, and set her on the sofa. He lifted her sopped skirt and took off the shawl to examine the wound. It was still seeping but not as badly. Going to the kitchen, he pulled a towel out of a drawer and returned to wipe the area around the wound dry.

The bullet had sliced through about two inches of flesh. “Looks like it just grazed the skin,” he said. “That's good.”

“It doesn't feel so good.” Abbie looked away.

She winced when he pressed the cloth to the wound. “Hold this and put some pressure on it while I get my first-aid kit.”

She heard a couple of doors slam, and when he came back, he was carrying a large white box. While he bandaged up the wound, Abbie explained what had happened.

“Are you sure he came out of my house?” Travis finished by wrapping an elastic bandage around the leg. “Are you sure?”

“Trust me. I would never in my wildest dreams make up something like this.”

“I believe you. What I can't fathom is why someone would fire at you. The only thing I can think of that makes sense is that it was a hunter who mistook you for a deer.”

“I suppose that's possible. I mean—who would want to kill me—except maybe the guy who's been leaving me those notes.” Her teeth chattered as she spoke.

“You have a point.” Travis stood. “We need to get you out of those wet clothes before you end up with pneumonia.” He disappeared into the bedroom and came back with a sweatshirt, boxer shorts, and a pair of khaki shorts. “I don't have any women's clothes so these will have to do. Take off your wet things and I'll warm up an electric blanket for you to wrap up in.” He turned away. “I'd better call Jeff and Jake. You should have Jake take you to a doctor.”

She nodded. Jake was coming.

Abbie couldn't stop shaking. She rubbed the wetness from her skin and pulled on the red sweatshirt. The clothing, though baggy, had already begun to warm her. When she emerged from the bathroom, she was still shivering and couldn't wait to get under the electric blanket.

She heard voices coming from the living room. Travis was with Detective Meyers and Tim. As before, the detective wore a brown suit, and under his jacket Abbie could see a holster.

“Hello again.” Puzzled, Abbie shook his hand and sank into the chair where Travis had placed the warm blanket. She wrapped it around herself and looked at Travis. “I thought you called Jeff.”

“I did. Detective Meyers is here about something else, but he wants to hear your story.”

“I understand someone shot you.” Meyers settled back into his chair and lifted a small notebook out of his pocket. “Want to tell me about it?”

Abbie shared her story again and glanced at Travis before going on. “In all honesty, I thought it was you, especially when the guy came out of your house.”

“Definitely not me.” Travis shook his head. “I'm sorry this happened. It could have been anyone. I usually don't bother locking my doors.”

“I don't suppose you can ID the guy.” Meyers tapped his pen against the notebook.

“No.” Abbie frowned, trying to remember. “He was wearing a mask—black, and a greenish plaid shirt. Jeans, I think. I was too busy trying to stay out of sight.”

“Not a lot to go on. Did you see a vehicle?”

“No, just the pickup that's out there now.”

“Which would be mine.” Travis poured them each a cup of coffee. “I was riding my bike. I didn't pass anyone on the road when I came in. The only other way out of here is through the woods, which means the shooter is on foot.”

A car door slammed and Travis got up to look outside. “It's Sheriff Moore.” Travis and Meyers went out to meet him. Abbie expected them to come inside, but the men stood in the open doorway while Travis told the sheriff about the shooting.

“I'll get right on it,” she heard the sheriff say. “It could be too late, but we might be able to catch him.” To Meyers and Travis he said, “Why don't you two follow the trail into town and we'll come in from the other side? I'll set up a roadblock at the entrance to Cold Creek.”

“That is, if he took the normal path,” Travis said. “He could have cut through the woods to one of the old logging roads.”

“Then we'll have to broaden our search.”

“What about Abbie?” Travis said. “Someone needs to stay with her—at least until Jake gets here.”

“I'll have one of my deputies stay here and guard the house.”

She heard the radioing for assistance just before the men came back inside.

“At least this time the sheriff is taking me seriously,” Abbie mumbled as she tugged the blanket closer around her. She was finally warming up, but the reality of what had happened sank in with the force of a blizzard.

“I'll get my gear and meet you outside,” Meyers said.

“You'll need to stay here, Abbie. Make yourself at home.” Travis pulled on a pair of boots. “The detective and I are going to look around here and take the trail into town.”

Abbie nodded. “I heard.”

“Jake will be here any minute. Lock the doors and stay put.” Travis lifted a rifle from its mounting inside the entry closet and grabbed a handful of shells then stepped outside to where Meyers stood beside his unmarked car. The detective had taken off his suit jacket and now wore a navy-blue nylon windbreaker and boots, which he apparently kept in the trunk.

As soon as the deputy pulled into the driveway, the men jogged down the road a short distance then headed into the woods. Abbie, feeling too warm now, tossed off the blanket and reached around the chair to unplug it. Beside the chair was a basket containing a number of books and magazines. She noted a couple of art magazines she might look at later. For now, however, Abbie checked the locks on the patio door, the door at the back of the kitchen, and the front door. Then she checked them again. Checking the locks brought the realization that the shooter could still be close by and waiting for another opportunity. Even with the deputy watching the house, the idea unnerved her.

Abbie shook the thoughts aside. At least she'd be safe in the house. Satisfied that the house was locked up, she snagged her wet clothing from the hook behind the bathroom door and tossed everything in the washing machine in a closet in the hallway. Her leg hurt. It might have been just a flesh wound, but it had begun to throb incessantly. She opened the medicine cabinet in the bathroom and found a bottle of aspirin. She shook two into her hand and hobbled to the kitchen for water. Maybe she would see a doctor later.

She had no idea how long the search for the shooter would take, but she had to keep busy lest she think too much about the surreal incident. Unfortunately, there were no dishes to do and nothing looked as if it needed cleaning. Travis kept his house relatively clean and picked up.

She was about to resort to looking through the magazines when she heard a noise at the front door. Fear reinserted itself, and she instinctively spun around and ducked.

Someone knocked. “Abbie?”

The breath she'd been holding swooshed out. “Jake.”

Abbie hurried to the door and flung it open. She reached for Jake and pulled him in before slamming the door behind him and locking it again.

“What's going on? Jeff told me you'd been shot.”

Without answering, she threw her arms around his neck and held on. Jake's closeness and the tender way he drew her to him loosened her resolve and the tears came. “I'll tell you in a minute. Just hold me.”

Jake was more than happy to comply. He'd come unglued when Travis told him Abbie had been shot. He told his clients he had an emergency and took off, leaving them in the office to find their own way out. When he reached the outskirts of Cold Creek, he was stopped by a roadblock. After checking his ID, the deputy let him through.

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—”

“Shh.” He pressed his fingers to her lips then lifted her into his arms and carried her to the couch.

“Thanks for coming.” She tipped her head back against the cushion and closed her eyes.

Jake took in the red sweatshirt and shorts. “Why are you wearing Travis's clothes?”