Mystery Child. Shirlee McCoy
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to her lips, gestured for her to be quiet. For a moment, he heard nothing. Then, furtive steps. The hunter on the prowl. He handed Jubilee to Quinn, pressed them both deeper into the pine needles.
“Stay here until I come back for you,” he whispered in Quinn’s ear, the words more breath than sound.
She nodded her understanding, and then he slid back into the forest, heading for the shadowy figure that was stalking them.
Quinn had never liked horror movies. Right at the moment, she felt as if she were living in one. Only this wasn’t a movie. This was real-life terror. This was her alone in the woods with an innocent life depending on her. She didn’t know where the guy had gone. She didn’t even know what his name was. All she knew was that he’d told her to stay put until he returned.
From where?
That’s what she needed to know.
Had he seen something?
Heard something?
How long should she wait?
Ten minutes?
Twenty?
Jubilee’s head rested on her shoulder, her hand lax against Quinn’s bicep. She was exhausted, of course. Probably terrified, too. She’d been left with a stranger, carted hundreds of miles away from her home, and now she was in the dark woods waiting for something horrible to happen.
Quinn wanted to ease out from behind the tree and creep through the woods until she found her brother’s house. She was afraid, though, terrified of making a mistake. If Cory were here, he’d know what to do. A deputy sheriff in Echo Lake, he’d always known exactly what every situation required. He wasn’t there, though, and Quinn would have to figure this out on her own.
Somewhere beyond the tree, leaves crackled. She waited, expecting to hear men’s voices, a shouted warning. Fist against flesh. Something. Anything.
She heard nothing but that soft crackling sound.
She edged back until she was wedged between pine boughs, the sharp, tangy scent of broken needles filling her nose. Jubilee had gone still, one hand clutching the little bag of chocolate candy she’d been given, the other clutching a fistful of Quinn’s jacket.
She still hadn’t spoken, but those screams? They’d probably stay with Quinn for the rest of her life. They’d been the sound of profound terror. No child should ever have to feel that. She shifted her grip on Jubilee, listening for any sign that August’s friend was returning. Friend? Maybe. Quinn had no idea who the guy really was. He hadn’t introduced himself, and she hadn’t thought to ask how he knew her brother. She hadn’t gotten a good look at his face, either. She had noticed the scar that bisected his cheek, though. If she’d met him before, she’d have remembered that.
Jubilee shoved against her arms, trying to wiggle down. Quinn held tight. No way was she putting the child down, but August’s friend had been right about one thing—running with a five-year-old in her arms wasn’t going to be easy. Quinn had her mother Alison’s build—small-boned, short, thin. Her sprint from the Jeep had been fed by adrenaline. Now, she felt tired, her arms aching, her legs trembling. Still, she wanted to run. She just wasn’t sure what direction to go.
They couldn’t stay there forever.
Eventually, the night would pass, day would dawn, and they’d be sitting ducks, waiting to be spotted by whoever was after them.
Tabitha’s husband?
It was the only thing that made sense. Quinn had no enemies. She barely had any friends. Funny how people pulled away during times of grief. Strange how those that she’d been closest to seemed to have drifted the furthest after Cory was buried. Or maybe she’d been the one to drift away, separating herself out from the pack of happy, successful couples that she and Cory had once gone bowling with, camped with, biked and hiked with.
She shook the memories away, ducked beneath the pine boughs and stepped out of the shadow of the tree. She had to move or she’d be frozen forever, too terrified to do anything but wait for someone to find her.
Jubilee stared at her through eyes made dark by fatigue. Wisps of hair had escaped the braids they’d been plaited into. A few long strands straggled across her neck and curled up to touch the bruise on her cheek.
Poor kid. She hadn’t slept much during the long drive. She’d just sat in her booster, staring out the window. She hadn’t spoken, but she’d responded to questions with nods or shakes of her head. Obviously, she had a good receptive vocabulary. There was no doubt that she’d understood everything Tabitha had said to Quinn. She knew she was going to DC to see her biological father. Had she met Daniel Boone Anderson before? That was something Quinn should have asked, but she’d been too shocked by Tabitha’s sudden appearance to think straight.
A light flashed to the right. There. Gone. Someone searching through the woods, and whoever it was had probably heard Quinn shuffling through the dead pine needles and fallen leaves.
Quinn didn’t dare stop, didn’t dare go back to the tree or duck into another hole. They’d find her this time. She was certain of it.
She sprinted into a thicket, brambles and branches tearing at her hair and snagging the comfortable yoga pants she’d worn for the ride.
She barely felt it.
Keep going. That’s all she could think about. Run as fast as you can.
Jubilee’s weight slowed Quinn down, but she pushed through the other side of the thicket, dodging through trees. Her foot caught on roots that snaked out of the ground, and she fell hard, skidding on her knees, one hand on the ground, the other clutching Jubilee.
A man stepped out in front of her, appearing so quickly, she thought she must be imagining the dark form.
He moved toward her and she scrambled up.
“I have a gun,” she lied, her voice shaking.
“No, you don’t. You’re a pacifist to the core,” the man responded, his voice so familiar, she wanted to cry with relief.
“August?”
“Yeah, and you’re lucky it is. Didn’t Malone tell you to stay hidden?” he responded.
“Not exactly,” she hedged.
“Exactly,” a man said, his voice coming from behind Quinn. “I told you to stay put until I got back.”
“I decided I’d be safer heading to my brother’s place.”
“Your brother was the one I saw walking through the trees. If you’d given me half a minute to check things out, you could have saved us all some time.”
“I gave you more than half a minute.”
“Learn a little patience. It might save your life one day,” he retorted, his eyes blazing through the darkness.
“How about we discuss this at my place?” August cut in. “I’ll feel a whole lot better about everything once we’re not standing in the woods making it easy for any sniper who happens to be skulking around.”
A sniper?
That wasn’t something Quinn wanted to think about.
She shuddered, clutching Jubilee a little tighter.
“I agree,” Malone said. “I don’t know about you, McConnell, but I’m not liking the way things are playing out.”
“You want to walk or go back to my SUV?” August asked. The fact that he was asking surprised Quinn. August had been doing his own thing and going his own way for as long as she could remember. He’d joined the marines at eighteen, been discharged honorably five years later. Now he worked private security, traveling around the country doing work for a high-profile security