Presumed Dead. Angela Ruth Strong
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Holly’s eyes flew open. She hated dishonesty, and she wouldn’t lie. She’d made that her policy from the very beginning of her law practice. But she’d also told Preston she would keep his existence a secret. What now, Lord? Her gaze zeroed in on a Bible most likely left at the lodge by the Gideons. That had to be a sign. God would want her to tell the truth.
“I wasn’t alone.”
Shaw followed her line of sight. “God was with you?” He harrumphed, then made a note in his notepad. “If there is a God who answers prayer, you’re certainly keeping Him busy today.”
Holly almost laughed. She’d been about to give Preston all the credit for rescuing her, but the policeman had thought she was talking about God. Maybe she should have been. God was the one who’d answered her prayers. He was the one who’d orchestrated events so Preston had seen the bomb being planted in her cabin earlier that day. God must have known this was going to happen back when they were kids. He’d brought them together to support each other.
Preston’s friendship and commitment had gotten her through a lot. Like when she’d lost the freestyle race at the state swim meet. And when she hadn’t gotten the scholarship to Stanford. And when she’d found out her best friend from high school had cancer. He’d been the one to suggest the polar plunge fund-raiser that had paid off Alexandria’s medical bills from chemo.
Had she ever been there for him like that? He’d always been so strong and capable. But now he wasn’t. He was nonexistent. And since she was the only one who knew he was still alive, she was the one who could offer him help.
The EMT dabbed her arm with gauze. “It’s just a graze. I’ll use some butterfly bandages to hold the wound together.”
Holly cringed. She’d fainted over a mere scratch? At least she wouldn’t have to go to the hospital and she could get her hands on a computer sooner to research Operation Desert Hope. Something bugged her about the online story she’d looked up. Something told her to look deeper. She just couldn’t put her finger on it.
“Here, ma’am. I think this will help.”
Holly waved away the pill and water cup. She just wanted these people to track down the bad guy and leave her alone. She had work to do. And she couldn’t do it with a fuzzy brain.
Officer Shaw bit at a nail. “Miss Fontaine, this has to be very scary for you. Until the person who did this is apprehended, I’m going to guard you around the clock.”
Holly squeaked. And not just from the way the EMT pinched her skin together. She wanted the police to find out who was trying to kill her so she could move on with her life. Move on with helping Preston get his life back. She needed Shaw to leave so she could do that.
“How long do you think that will take?”
Officer Shaw studied her. “You’ve got somewhere else you need to be?”
The irony. On what was supposed to be the biggest weekend of her life, she had nowhere to go and nobody who would miss her. “All I have is canceled plans.”
“I’m sorry, Miss Fontaine. This wasn’t my plan for the weekend, either.”
“Shaw.” A short, redheaded woman in a business suit entered the overcrowded computer room carrying a clipboard. “We checked Brooks’s alibi. He was down at the yacht club the whole time.”
They still suspected Caleb? He could have been the voice on the phone, but since he’d never really loved her, having her cancel their wedding shouldn’t have been that big a deal. Preston hadn’t even suspected him. At least it was one more name they could cross off their list.
“It wasn’t Brooks,” Shaw stated. “Deputy Young saw the perp sneaking out a back window but lost him in the woods. Caucasian. Six feet, one hundred and eighty pounds. Tan with medium-blond hair and a camouflage hoodie. Knows the area really well, too. Put out an APB.”
Holly gasped. Shaw had described Preston. He was after the wrong man.
* * *
Preston watched from up the mountain as the sun set and lights flicked on in the cabins below. He wiped sweat from his brow when an ambulance pulled away without Holly. She must be okay, but his stomach still churned at the idea she’d gotten hurt under his care. He wouldn’t make that mistake again. She’d be better off with police protection. The same officer who’d been at the bombing now walked her across the commons to her cabin. Looked like he planned to personally guard her.
From now on, Preston would keep a safe distance as he watched for the shooter to return. The man had disappeared before Preston could follow him, but that wouldn’t happen again.
If only they’d found a lead in Holly’s work files. Maybe the police department would have better results than he’d had.
Cop cars pulled away from the scene of the crime one by one. A couple plainclothes detectives stuck around to record evidence. Had Holly been able to keep his existence a secret this time around?
Preston shook his head to free himself from the fear of being discovered. The more pressing issue would be to discover whoever was trying to hurt her.
Was he right in believing the shooter to be related to a client from her past? Or was it just a random psychopath? Or perhaps he should look into Denise Amador as Holly had suggested. The other woman could have hired a hit man. That could have been her on the phone with the bomber.
Preston rubbed his temples. Time to sneak down to Holly’s cabin and wait outside a window for a chance to talk to her. He’d make sure she was okay after the bullet wound. And then he’d say goodbye. No matter how well they worked together or how good it was to see her again, his presence only complicated the situation.
After driving the old Chevy down the mountain and parking on the street, Preston made his way to Holly’s cabin. He hated having to leave her, and he hated how much he hated having to leave her.
He crouched down to avoid detection as he neared Cottage 19. He peeked through a window to find Officer Shaw in front of the television and Holly on the phone. Probably talking to her mom.
It had been years since Preston had talked to his own mom. The emptiness he’d once been used to now overwhelmed him like a tidal wave. Being with Holly, being known, had been a sip of water to a man in the desert. It wet his tongue, but made him realize how parched his throat had become. How would he survive if he had to head back out into the desert again?
Holly hung up. Spoke to Shaw. Turned toward the bathroom.
This was Preston’s chance. He crept toward the light that flicked on through a frosted pane, swallowed down emotions and tapped on the glass.
Running water stopped. He tapped again. The sill trembled as she unlocked the window. It slid open silently.
Holly’s face appeared. She squinted into the dark. “Preston? Oh, I prayed—”
He held a finger to his lips and pointed to the showerhead. She nodded, then disappeared for a moment. Pipes squeaked as the rush of water resumed. Now they could talk without being overheard.
She leaned toward him, her short blond hair illuminated like a halo from behind. “I’m so glad you’re okay, but I have to tell you, I don’t think I can keep your secret much longer. I almost revealed your existence to Officer Shaw earlier. And my mom knows something’s up.”
He’d requested she not tell police about him, but he hadn’t figured in Holly’s connection with her mother. And if Mrs. Fontaine found out, she would never be able to refrain from spilling it to Preston’s mom.
“I know it’s difficult. That’s why I have to disappear.”
“What?” Too loud.
He held a finger to his lips again and tensed, waiting for Officer Shaw to come charging through the door. Sure enough. Footsteps.
“Miss Fontaine? Everything all right?”