Maybe this was related to his father’s murder? How, he wasn’t sure. Even the cops had considered it case closed. He swallowed hard, realizing that staying put wasn’t an option. Not if the gunman intended to keep shooting. Unless the guy had already taken off? Dom eased up to peer around the edge of his truck.
Another crack of gunfire rang out. He ducked again, blinking to clear his vision. At twenty-eight years old, he’d never once been targeted by gunfire. Would someone inside the motel call the police? Did Greybull have a police department, or would he have to wait for a sheriff’s deputy to arrive?
Another bullet pinged off the hood of his truck, far too close to his head. He was really starting to get ticked off. Where was this guy? And why was he shooting at him?
Since he couldn’t see where the shooter was hiding, Dom decided to make a run for it. He darted into the woods, keeping his head down. The foliage provided decent cover, especially the large pine trees. He was grateful for that until he glanced back over his shoulder and realized he was leaving boot prints in the snow.
Not good. This was not good! Picking up the pace, he ran through the trees. After several yards, he made a wide circle to double back. There had to be a way to get a look at this guy who’d fired so many shots at his truck. Maybe this was a case of mistaken identity?
No, that didn’t make sense. The shooter should have noticed his Montana license plates. He swallowed hard, realizing this must have been related to his father’s murder. Why anyone would come after him six years after the fact, he had no idea. Especially since Stuart Ramsey confessed to the crime.
Maybe he and Kendra were right not to consider the case closed.
Taking a quick break, he crouched behind an evergreen, straining to listen. After hearing so many gunshots, the ensuing silence was eerie. He drew in a deep breath to calm his racing heart. Had the shooter given up and left? Or had the guy headed into the woods to find him?
What if there was more than one of them? A band of fear tightened around his chest. He was about to pull out his phone to dial 911 when he heard a rustling sound.
An animal? Or human? Probably the latter. Giving up the idea of making a call, which would have given away his location, he eased farther into the woods. He glanced over his shoulder, wincing when he again saw his tracks.
They were so obvious a blind man could have followed them.
It couldn’t be helped. Continuing in a half circle, he gauged where the road was located. Maybe a half mile? If he could reach the road, he knew the hard-packed snow that had been flattened by numerous tire tracks would help cover his footprints. He could take the road for a while before heading back into the woods. When he was safe, he could call 911.
Dom continued moving swiftly through the forest. Pausing near a large oak tree, he thought he saw movement. With a frown, he ducked and scanned the woods. For long moments, he didn’t move, barely breathing as he watched and listened.
There! A dark shadow stepped out from behind a tree. Dom could see the guy held a handgun. Swallowing hard, he stayed put, hoping the guy would turn away.
He didn’t. Instead, another crack of gunfire reverberated through the woods.
Enough already! Dom spun and ran, doing a zigzag pattern from one tree to the next. His long legs worked to his advantage now, and while he’d never run for pleasure, he didn’t let that slow him down.
Where were the local cops? Hadn’t anyone from the motel called them?
Dom continued in the general direction of the road. After what seemed like eons, he caught a glimpse of the plowed street through a break in the trees. He slowed his pace, fearing there could be a second man out there waiting for him to emerge. Hunkering down beside a tree, he waited. Headlights indicated a car was moving down the street from the west. He waited until it had passed, then rushed out to the road.
Seeing nobody lurking nearby, he broke into a jog, running west, away from the hotel. Glancing over his shoulder, he was relieved to see his footprints weren’t readily visible on the hard-packed snow. With renewed energy, he picked up his speed, putting even more distance between himself and the shooter.
After traveling about a mile or so, he noticed another pair of headlights illuminating the sky behind him. The sharp curve in the road made it impossible for him to see what sort of car was approaching. Fearing the gunman had figured out his ploy, he abruptly leaped over the snowbank to get off the road, quickly diving back into the safety of the woods.
Dom kept moving, determined to stay well ahead of the gunman. When he came across a fallen log, he jumped over that, the way he’d hurdled the snowbank. Only this time, he landed at an awkward angle. His right foot slipped, and he lost his balance. Falling, the back of his head struck the fallen tree trunk.
Then there was nothing but darkness.
Kendra Sullivan frowned as she drove into the town of Greybull for the second time in less than a week. Dominic Lakeland still hadn’t responded to her text message. Was he ignoring her on purpose? That would be strange since he was the one who’d texted her to say he’d arrived at the Redwood Motel.
“What do you think, Smoky?” She eyed her Alaskan malamute in the rearview mirror. “Maybe he brought his girlfriend along and is distracted by spending time alone with her.”
Smoky gave a halfhearted wag of her curved tail. Kendra grimaced and turned her attention to the road. She didn’t care if Dominic brought his girlfriend along for the ride or not. She was anxious to talk to him. The news of Stuart Ramsey’s confession filled her with a renewed sense of purpose. For years, she’d suspected foul play related to the deaths of her parents. Now they knew the truth. But they still didn’t know why. What possible motive could there have been to kill Dominic’s father? Hopefully, she and Dominic could piece the puzzle together before Christmas.
She hadn’t told her eight older siblings the recent revelation about the murder or her plan to meet Dominic. For one thing, they treated her as if she was still a kid, not a twenty-five-year-old woman. And for another, they’d take over the investigation. Maybe she was being silly, but since they hadn’t taken her seriously six years ago, she was determined to uncover the truth herself.
She slowed her speed. If she remembered right, the motel was a mile past the sharp curve.
A pickup truck barreled around the hairpin curve, going much faster than the posted speed limit. Thankfully, she was hugging the right side of the street and wasn’t hit. Kendra followed the dark truck with her gaze, then sighed and shook her head. Some people just didn’t care about how their reckless driving impacted others.
Moments later, she saw the sign for the Redwood Motel. She slowed to pull into the parking lot, then frowned when she saw a large silver truck parked off to the back of the lot. It wasn’t just the truck that drew her gaze, but the bullet hole in the rear window.
Glancing around, she didn’t see any police nearby. She wasn’t sure whether the bullet hole was made recently or whether the owner of the truck hadn’t bothered to have it fixed.
