A burst of hysterical laughter threatened to erupt out of her. It was probably the wind, or the old house creaking with age. When Abby and Belinda returned to the house they would all laugh about Colette’s overreaction.
Any hint of laughter disappeared as she saw the doorknob turn. The door cracked open only a sliver before banging into the barrier of the dresser. “Who’s there? What do you want?” Colette cried, throwing herself against the dresser as an additional barricade.
Nobody answered. The door banged into the dresser again, this time with more force. Although she knew it was crazy, she felt the venom, the malevolence, emanating through the door.
Bang. Bang. Bang. With increasing fierceness the door slammed into the piece of furniture. Colette screamed, torn between the need to run to the window and yell for help or maintain her position, adding her weight to fortify her makeshift barrier.
Several more times the door banged into the dresser, then silence. The silence seemed louder than the banging as it stretched endlessly on. Colette remained with her weight against the dresser, wondering…waiting.
What was happening? What was he doing? Was he still there, waiting for her to relax and move the dresser away from the door? Waiting for her to venture out? She was no fool. There was no way she’d do anything until she heard Abby or Belinda outside her door.
As the silence stretched, perspiration dampened Colette’s hands and tickled her scalp. What was happening? She looked toward the window, wondering if she could get there and yell for help before another assault came at the door.
Afraid to move, yet afraid not to, she left the dresser and reached the window. Throwing back the lacy curtains, she unlocked it. Before she could pull it open, there was a ping and the glass exploded.
* * *
HANK HAD BEEN KEEPINGone eye on the house as everyone else’s attention was focused on the mare and the difficult birth. He knew with well-honed instincts that if somebody were to go after Colette, it would happen when everyone else was busy elsewhere.
When he heard the telltale ping, he knew with certainty what he had just heard was the sound of a silenced gunshot. Without hesitation, he ran toward the house.
Rather than going to the front door where Bulldog sat in one of the wicker chairs on the porch, Hank headed for the back door.
His blood ran cold as the doorknob turned easily beneath his grasp. Unlocked. What the hell good did it do to post a guard at the front door and leave the back one unlocked?
It took him only a moment to realize Colette wasn’t in the kitchen, nor was she in the living room. He raced toward her room, his thoughts whirling as he ran.
He’d been the only one standing outside the barn. Apparently he’d been the only one to hear the muted gunshot. If the killer had decided to use a gun, then the gloves were off and the level of the game had changed from dangerous to deadly.
He reached Colette’s door and tried to open it, grunting in surprise as the door slammed into something he couldn’t see.
“Colette,” he yelled. Was he too late? Had the gunman shot her? “Colette, are you in there?” He banged on the door, urgency sweeping all other thoughts from his head.
He gasped in relief as he heard a sob from behind the door. Another ping resounded. Colette screamed, and Hank hit the door with his shoulder summoning adequate force to wrench it open wide enough for him to crawl through.
Immediately he took in the scene before him, relief sweeping through him as he saw Colette curled up in a corner, crying but apparently unharmed. The baby was in the crib, arms and legs waving in agitation.
Crawling on the floor Hank made his way to the crib and picked up the baby. “Come on, Colette, we’ve got to get out of here.” Keeping lower thanthe window, with the baby gripped against his chest, Hank started back toward the door.
He turned only long enough to see Colette following, then wiggled through the space of the open door and out into the hallway.
As Colette fell into the hall, another shot pinged off the bedroom wall behind her. She screamed and put her hands over her ears, as if muting the sound might lessen the danger.
“Come on. Let’s go.” Hank stood, grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet. “This way,” he said as he headed down the hallway back toward the kitchen.
He could tell Colette was dazed with shock. She stumbled along beside him, passive as a bewildered child until they got to the back door, then she balked. Her eyes widened. “No…we can’t go out there. Somebody has a gun. We’ll get shot.” She stopped in her tracks. “Oh, God, what are we going to do?”
“Colette, we have to get away from here. Right now we need to put some distance between you and this ranch. And we need to hurry, before whoever is shooting realizes we’re no longer in your bedroom.”
He didn’t give her a chance to argue or balk again. He ran out the back door, knowing she would follow as long as he had the baby. Sure enough, after a split second hesitation, Colette fell in behind him. Hank led her around to the back side of an old shed, where his car awaited him.
He got in and motioned Colette to the passenger side. As she slid in, he handed her the baby, started the engine and pulled out.
He didn’t follow the drive around the front of thehouse, but rather took off across the pasture, knowing once they got on the other side of the grassland they’d hit the main road.
He’d hoped she’d remember before now. He’d hoped her memory would return and she would willingly do what needed to be done. Worse case scenario: he’d hoped to seduce her into trusting him, willingly going with him. Now it was too late to hope. Too late to do things the easy way.
“You okay?” he asked. “The baby all right?”
