Hed begun to perpetuate the cover story, telling Vic that a friend had stopped by for a surprise visit.
There had been no new breaks on the Casanova case, nothing else pressing that couldnt wait a day or two. Vic had assured him that the four deputies could handle whatever arose and Jesse had hung up, knowing the people who worked for him were good, competent and fair lawmen.
He took another sip of his soda and moved away from the window with another glance at his watch. A scream ripped through the silence of the house.
For an instant, Jesse froze. The scream had come from the guest room. Adrenaline pumped through him. He slammed his drink down and grabbed his gun from the holster hanging on a hook near the back door. He flipped off the safety and advanced slowly, cautiously down the hallway.
Had somebody managed to track her here? Was somebody in the bedroom with her now? Damn Keller for not telling him more. Damn Keller for not warning him she might be in imminent danger.
He reached the closed bedroom door and paused, listening for a sound, any sound that might indicate what was happening on the other side of the hollow wood. Nothing. Not a sound. Not a single noise.
Was she already dead? Would he open the door to find her lifeless body draped across the bed? If somebody had entered through the window, she would have never seen him
coming. She wouldnt have known she wasnt alone in the room until hands had closed around her throat, or a blade had touched the flesh of her neck.
Jesse grabbed the doorknob and turned it slowly, soundlessly. Although emotion demanded he hurryfling open the door and burst insidetraining and instinct warned him to go slow, to face the unknown with caution. He eased the door open and stepped inside, the gun leveled in front of him.
Nothing.
The room appeared empty. The bedspread was wrinkled and a depression marked the center of one of the pillows. The window was closed, the curtains neatly in place. Nothing looked out of the ordinary, except Cecilia Webster was no place in sight.
A renewed burst of adrenaline flooded him as he heard a thump come from the closet. The closet door was half-open, but the waning light of dusk threw deep shadows that obscured the interior of the small space.
Jesse advanced, his gun once again leading the way. With one hand, he eased the closet door fully open. She was there.
He lowered his gun and muttered a soft curse beneath his breath. As he gazed at her, curled up in the corner, her eyes squeezed tightly shut and her cheeks stained with tears, he wondered what in the hell shed been through, and what in the hell hed gotten himself into!
Chapter 2
Hey. Hey! John exclaimed. Whats wrong? Whats going on?
Allison watched in horror as her sister and brother-in-law backed away from the men, stood just in front of where she hid in the closet.
Dont do anything stu Johns voice was lost in the eruption of gunfire.
Gunshots resounded in the air. A total of six. Miniexplosions not loud enough to penetrate the walls of the house, not loud enough to beckon help. But loud enough, strong enough for the bullets to kill John and Alicia.
John fell forward, crashing to the floor like a huge oak felled by a lumberjacks ax. Alicia flew backward and smashed into the closet door. A bullet slammed into the wall just above Allisons head. Blood splattered through the slats, a fine spray on her face, her chest.
Shoving a hand against her mouth, Allison tried to still a scream of disbelieving terror. No! Oh, Godno! This couldnt be happening. Her mind raced frantically to make sense of the scene unfolding in front of her.
She fought the impulse to run to her sister, to try to help her. Someplace in her terror-filled mind, the instinct of survival kept her rooted in her hiding place.
Quiet. She had to stay quiet. If they found her, theyd kill her, too. She had to stay alive. She had to stay alive so she could tell somebody what happened here.
Cecilia.
The voice came from some distant place, but it had nothing to do with her. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut and shoved her hand harder against her mouth.
Blood. There was too much blood. Alicia was deadmurdered, her blood on Allisons face. Dear God, all that blood. Why had this happened? Why? Why?
Cecilia! The deep male voice called again, this time more forcefully.
She shrank deeper into the closet, pressing her back into the corner in an attempt to escape.
A stinging slap across one of her cheeks jarred her from her nightmare landscape to the present. In an instant, she realized she was a long way from John and Alicias home. She was in Montana. Mustang, Montana.
Sheriff Wilder? she whispered hesitantly.
Jesse, he corrected her. Im right here. His hand closed around one of hers. His hand was large and warm, and offered comfort despite its unfamiliar feel.
Her other hand reached up, hit clothes hanging above her. Im in the closet, arent I? Weary discouragement weighed heavy on her shoulders.
Yeah. His hand tightened around hers. Why dont we get you out of here?