Presumed Dead. Angela Ruth Strong
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know what she was doing.
She sent him a look of panic.
His fingers found hers. Gently squeezed. As if that was supposed to be comforting.
Did he know who had broken in? Did he know why? He’d said he had enemies of his own. Was this guy after him or her?
Help, Lord.
A phone jingled.
She jolted at the sound, clutching Preston’s hand like a stress ball. Okay, now she was glad he’d made the connection.
Where was the noise coming from? Maybe she should let him go to silence the cell phone in case it was about to give away their hiding place. If it did, he’d definitely need his hand free so he could leap up and pop the bad guy in the jaw.
She uncurled her fingers and retracted her arm to give him room to fight.
The phone jingled again, the sound growing louder. But at least it was on the other side of the couch.
Preston shook his head. Not his phone?
“Yeah?” A gruff voice demanded.
Holly froze. Who answered their phone in the middle of breaking and entering? And had she heard that voice before?
“The woman got away on a Jet Ski.”
Holly bit her lip to keep from gasping. This had to be the bomber. And he was talking about her. Had someone hired him to kill her? Someone like her ex’s new girlfriend?
“Yeah, I’m sure. A guy just showed up at her dock and took her to another cabin. I had to drive to get here, and it looks like they’ve already left. No car in the driveway.”
She searched for Preston’s eyes. He’d just gone from being dead to being “a guy.” This could mean trouble for both of them. But at least the bomber didn’t know they were still in the room.
Preston squinted toward the direction of the phone conversation as if it took all his concentration to make out the words.
“I’m inside the cabin.”
Pause.
“I broke in through a window.”
In place of the silence, a muted but angry voice yelled something in return. Could Preston tell if it was a man or woman on the phone? Because she couldn’t.
“Well, since I’m already here, I’ll just plant another bomb.”
Another bomb? Preston’s cabin was going to be destroyed the way hers had been? All out of a jealous rage?
Her fingernails bit into the flesh of her palm. Maybe Preston wouldn’t have to fight the bomber after all. She was angry enough to take him.
More jumbled yelling.
“I won’t use a time bomb again.”
What other kinds of bombs were there? Holly had seen electronic detonators in movies. Or there were car bombs that ignited when the key was turned. Then there were the terrorists who strapped bombs to themselves. But it was ridiculous for Caleb’s new girlfriend to send someone after her with a bomb. She was the only person Holly could think of who would be after her. Preston had mentioned a few other reasons someone might want her dead, but they all seemed so abstract.
Her skin grew slick with a cold sweat. She shivered.
“No more bombs? Fine.”
Holly closed her eyes. Thank You, Jesus.
“Yes. I can do that. I’m on my way.”
Holly watched the tan boots pivot toward the door. Her skin itched in anticipation of the man’s departure. Was he moving in slow motion, or did it just feel like it?
Finally his feet stomped out onto the front step. The door snapped shut behind him.
She could breathe again. Her muscles melted toward the floor like snow tracked into the cabin in winter.
* * *
Preston’s muscles sprang into action. He leaped from behind the couch and raced toward the shattered window. He needed to know for sure if the intruder was the same perp he’d seen at Holly’s house.
A dark, lanky man climbed behind the wheel of a Jeep Cherokee. Same guy. What had Holly gotten herself into?
The engine revved. The SUV pulled away.
Preston grabbed a pen and scribbled down what he could catch of the license plate number before the vehicle disappeared into the trees. Because there was no way he was going to keep playing hide-and-seek with Holly. The Jeep’s driver needed to be locked behind bars. That was the only way to keep Holly safe. Preston could find somewhere else to hide out if needed.
“Did you know him?” he asked Holly. She hadn’t seemed to recognize the man when she’d passed him on the road earlier, but that was a completely different situation from being in the same room with him and overhearing a conversation about killing her.
“I...I don’t think so.” Her feet flopped out to the sides behind the couch. Apparently she wasn’t planning to get up anytime soon. But they couldn’t stay here.
He leaned over the back of the couch. “We’ve got to get you back to your cabin before the police think you died in the explosion. They’ll find your car there and believe you were inside.”
She sat up, eyes hard. “Why does it matter?” she challenged him. “You are letting everyone think you died.”
He’d saved her life, and she wanted to argue? Of course, after finding out her fiancé cheated, her summer cabin blowing up and someone wanting her dead, it might be easier for her to focus on his problems rather than her own. Not that his were any easier to fix. But she obviously wouldn’t understand unless she tried it out for herself. “You want to play dead, too?” he offered.
“No.” She ignored his extended hand and grabbed on to the back of the couch to pull herself up. “I want you to stop playing dead so we can go talk to the police together.”
“Let me know when you uncover the real saboteur, and I will be happy to go to police with you.” She seemed to think he could reveal himself without causing any more death. In the best-case scenario of turning himself in, a lawyer much like her would pin sabotage on him and he would live the rest of his life in prison with no chance of ever finding the evidence needed to arrest the real criminals.
Since she didn’t need his help, he climbed the ladder into the loft to pack all the personal belongings he could fit into a drawstring bag.
“Okay,” she said.
Okay what? He scanned the gathered items. It was a shame he didn’t have time to haul it all down to the old pickup on the property at the end of the street. Hank, the older man who lived there, had started a new helicopter tour business and let Preston use his Chevy LUV in exchange for mechanic work. Unfortunately, the vehicle would probably have to be Preston’s new home for a while.
“Okay, I’ll find your saboteur.”
Preston looked in her direction, but then had to step to the top of the ladder so Holly could feel the full intensity of his stare. “I was joking.”
“I’m not.” She stared right back.
Her determination was cute, but surely it would dissipate when she got back to the mess that was her own life. He scaled down the ladder rungs to lead her toward the sliding glass door so she could return to reality.
“One killer after you isn’t enough?”
She stopped in front of him and lifted her chin. “All criminals deserve to be in jail. And it’s my job to put them there.”
It would be hard to do her job from the grave. Besides... “You’re a defense attorney.”
“Exactly. I’ll defend you in court so the authorities can go after the