Forbidden Ground (Cold Creek #2)(79)

“You, too. Stay put. Stay down.”

Using only his parking lights, he drove in the old farmhouse driveway. They bounced along, hidden from the field by a line of pine trees. When he turned off the engine, the blackness became a second, solid wall around them.

“This won’t take long,” he told her. “They’re either here by now or they changed venues. Sit tight and keep the doors locked. I’ll be right back—unless I find them. Then, I swear, I’ll bring them back hog-tied.”

*

Grant hiked into darkness through the trees with his rifle, a big flashlight and three coils of rope over his shoulder. If the thieves were there, he’d have to make them tie each other up.

Keeping his flashlight off, he stayed on the edge of the field, just outside the fence. He stumbled in a hole, went down on all fours, grateful he didn’t sprain or break his ankle, but he couldn’t turn on a light until he was sure no one was here. He got up and walked into the fringe of the woodlot near the shed where he and Kate had taken cover when they were under fire.

No sounds here but that of shifting leaves and a few crickets. Not even lightning bugs, because they seldom came up this high. If the oaks were being hauled up here, surely the thieves would have arrived by now. He was deeply disappointed but relieved he wouldn’t have to use the gun.

He waited awhile longer, listening, watching, thinking. He, Brad, Todd and Paul—were they thieves, too? The thought tormented him. He was willing to wait all night, but Kate would be worried. So he wouldn’t stumble again, he turned on his flashlight and, keeping the beam low, swept the area with it. Jace had found cartridge shells up here, but from a common make of hunting rifle—not enough evidence to even question anyone.

The beam of light caught something bright red in the grass. Grant knew instantly what it was. He bent and picked up the wrapper. Clove gum, the kind Lacey always chewed. Her breath had always smelled of its tart, clean aroma. Sometimes he could tell when she was creeping up behind him from the scent. Had she been creeping through these woods from her parents’ place, with Brad, and why? Of course, maybe they’d just walked over here to see the evidence of the sawed-up tree Brad had loved, too.

Grant jammed the wrapper in his pocket and hurried out of the fringe of dark forest, back toward the truck, keeping the light low again. He pushed his way through the screen of pines right beside the truck. He didn’t see Kate in it!

He sprinted the last few yards.

Yes, thank God, for once Kate Lockwood has followed orders. She had scooted down in her seat.

In general, she had tried to toe his line, hadn’t she? More than anything, she wanted to get inside that mound, yet she’d heeded his wishes. I wanted you to know I care for you, too, she’d said.

He put his face close to the window glass so she could see it was him, but she was already fumbling with the inside lock. He opened the driver’s-side door, slid the ropes and rifle back onto the floor behind the driver’s seat, then climbed in.

“No sign of anyone,” he told her as he closed and locked the door. “So maybe that was the thieves who shot at us before, and they’ve switched venues. I hope, at least, they still use the same mill in Wisconsin, but they might be too smart for that. I used to think it was probably some down-and-out local, unemployed good old boy, maybe a truck driver between runs who had the hauling capability, but now I’m not sure. It scares me to think it’s someone I know—someone who has access to big saws and knows how to bring a big tree down right.”

“Someone from the mill, you mean? Then they would have insider information to let them know when you and Keith aren’t home.”

He turned sharply to face her. “You mean Brad?”

“It was just a general question, but I’m learning not to trust people I want to trust, people I thought I could, namely Carson Cantrell.”

“Good. I know what you mean. It’s nothing definitive, but I found a gum wrapper from the kind of gum Lacey chews all the time.”

“A strong clove smell? I noticed that from her.”

“Yeah. But I’m trying not to jump to conclusions just because I found a discarded relic tied to someone.”

“I hear you—again.”

“Kate, you didn’t mean that you can’t trust me, did you?”

“I—I don’t know. Will time tell?”

Unsure what would be a good comeback, he started the truck. The headlights came on, illuminating part of a big, broken, old painted sign leaning against the pines about fifteen feet straight ahead of them. Against a dark blue background, the white words glared at them in the lights. Treat Yourself To The Best.

Kate gasped. “That wasn’t there before!”

“I sure didn’t see it. You didn’t see anyone, did you?”

“In the pitch-black? No, but some sick joker must have been so close when he put it there. Maybe someone is watching you or me. You’re right. This is someone smart—and it’s personal.”

He turned the truck around fast, then hit the accelerator to send them bouncing down the old driveway. “I’m tempted to get my rifle and see if someone’s hiding behind that sign. But I don’t want another bullet in the tires up here—or in me.”

He turned out onto the road so fast they fishtailed. Finally, just before they started down the mountain, he slowed. “The old barn up there used to have a Mail Pouch Tobacco sign,” he told her. “I think that’s part of it. But I can’t remember if it was painted on or nailed on. So, not only is this a wild-goose chase, but we’re the stupid geese.”