Forbidden Ground (Cold Creek #2)(57)

He bent to pick up some of the bigger chips. “Bird’s-eye maple,” he said, giving her one of the pieces with the distinctive pattern. “My bird’s-eye maple, damn them.”

“But who is them? At least next time someone reports trees taken, you, Gabe and Jace will know where to look for them to be cut up.”

“But I want the bastards now.”

“Believe me, I understand. It’s hard to have patience when you want something so close—want it now and—”

Something pinged past them into the shed. Wood splinters peppered them. A loud crack seemed to echo from afar. Kate squealed as Grant yanked her down and threw himself on the ground beside her. The air slammed out of him; he tasted sawdust. Though it happened so fast, everything seemed to go into slow motion.

“Bullets!” he said, throwing an arm over her and shoving her head down when she lifted it. “Maybe from the woodlot. And it’s not somebody after deer!”

*

Kate was as angry as she was scared. Two more bullets whizzed past them, and then one struck so close, wood chips hit them and she got sawdust in her eyes.

“Mist or not, he’s getting the range,” Grant muttered. “We’re going to roll into that shed. Keep your head down. Go!”

She did as she was told with him so close behind that his elbow hit hard into her ribs. The boards were worn with spaces between them, and she feared this ramshackle shed would be no protection.

Grant half shoved, half dragged her behind what must have been an old feed trough. She blinked back tears to get rid of the sawdust burning her eyes.

He hunched down beside her. “I thought there might be a door out the back so we can get into the woodlot and run for the truck. Stay down. This wood’s so old I’m going to make us a way out.”

“The shots have stopped. Maybe he’s gone away.”

“Or is changing positions to get at us better.” He sat on the floor and kicked at some low boards that looked half rotted. He made a hole, then kicked at it to make it larger. “We can’t stay trapped in here. I’ll go out first in case he’s moved around this side, but I think the shots were distant. Hope he doesn’t have a scope. If it’s clear, you come right behind me. Belly-crawl.”

“But if he’s in the woodlot...”

“Trees may be his friends, but they’re ours, too. We can’t run clear to the truck in the open.”

With a grunt, he crawled out on his elbows and stomach. She could see only his feet as he stood, obviously making himself a target. First Paul, she thought, then Todd and now...

She held her breath, every muscle tensed, fearing another shot. Nothing.

“Now!” His voice came to her, and she crawled out, somehow snagging the back of her belt on one of the broken boards. Grant reached down and hauled her out, then to her feet. “Go!” he told her. “I’m right behind you. Run zigzag.”

They ducked through the old log fence and sprinted into the woodlot. Grant pressed her against the trunk of a big tree away from the direction of the shots. Her cheek and breasts pressed against the rough bark with his big body as strong as the tree tight against her back and butt.

The woods seemed quiet now but for the breeze rustling the branches, bird calls and their hard, rhythmic breathing. Damp foliage sputtered drops on them, but it wasn’t misting in here. Strange, but held so close by Grant like this, she almost forgot to be afraid.

“What’s your best guess?” she whispered.

“For the shooter or his position?”

“Both.”

“I think he was far enough to the north that he can’t have worked his way behind us yet. Remember those old cowboy movies where they darted from tree to tree?”

“Cowboy movies? I was hooked on Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom.”

“I don’t want to hear the word doom. I’m going first. You follow—if you don’t hear another shot. If so, get flat on the ground again.”

Still in a zigzag pattern, he went tree to tree with her right behind him. No noise but crows cawing. They worked their way toward the road and made a dash for his truck. He gunned the engine to pull away up the hill.

“Can we turn around somewhere and go back down?” she asked. They hadn’t even taken time to fasten their seat belts, and the warning buzzer kept sounding.

“Hate to say it, but I’m going to stop at Lacey’s folks’ place so we can call Jace. Pretty soon he’ll stop taking our calls at all.”

“I think we should turn around at their place, go back down, get out of here then call Jace.”

“You’re not in charge right now, sweetheart!”

“You mean our cell phones won’t work up here? But we’re so high.”

“Lacey’s folks have one of the few landlines up here, which will surprise you when you see their small place.”

“But if they’re not there, you aren’t going to break in, are you?”

“Nope. Then we’ll go to plan B. As you know, I don’t approve of people breaking in—and that’s not a reference to Paul’s place.”

She knew he meant the mound, and it upset her even more that he thought a careful archaeological excavation was like breaking in.

Still wiping sawdust from the corners of her eyes, she saw where they were going, maybe a half mile ahead. The light rain had almost stopped, but the pavement was still wet. A small log cabin stood on a rise with trees behind but not in front. It must have a stunning view of the valley far below, maybe clear to Cold Creek from the steep drop-off across the narrow road. As they got closer, she saw an old pickup parked there and, next to it, the car Lacey had driven earlier today. So both Lacey’s father and Brad had been within shooting range. At least, she thought, if Lacey’s parents were here, too, they weren’t going to barge in on Brad and Lacey in bed together.