She releases her end of the stick. I land flat on my ass but drag the bag toward me.
“You don’t make things easy,” I say as I root inside the knapsack for the phone and instead come up with a bag of dog treats. Ginger’s growls stop instantly.
“You’re hungry,” I say.
She whines.
I toss her a biscuit. She looks at where it lands, waiting for permission.
“Okay,” I say.
The biscuit disappears in a single chomp.
“Maybe we’re friends now,” I say, but as I take a step toward her, her haunches come off the ground and the snarls return.
So much for that.
I toss a second biscuit. This time, her tail nearly quivers into a wag, and her ears tilt forward. Again, she sits until I give her permission to gobble down the treat, then returns right away to another sit, her mouth watering. I eye the rifle. It would come in handy, especially if I find myself confronting a killer/stalker/kidnapper.
I throw a fistful of biscuits as far from the wall as possible, on the very edge of Ginger’s range, and make her wait until she froths at the mouth with anticipation. “Okay,” I say, and when she gallops toward the treats, I make my move.
But Ginger’s no fool. She lunges, jaws snapping as I scramble backward and barely avoid losing a chunk of my thigh.
“I get it,” I say. “You don’t appreciate being underestimated. Neither do I. I won’t try that again.”
The barking stops as suddenly as it started. Ginger whines, one of her ears flopping over. “What is it?” I ask. “I can’t take the mixed signals.”
She stares behind me with the same intensity I observed earlier. And in the sudden quiet, a twig snaps.
I spin around. “Who’s there?” I say, into the dark.
“Hold your hands where I can see them.”
Duncan Gilcrest emerges from the trees and into the moonlight, gun in hand. It’s pointed right at me.
Chapter Forty-One
I stand slowly, my hands raised, as Gilcrest edges into the field. “What are you doing here, Charlie?” he asks.
“I should ask you the same thing,” I say, though I can imagine him hearing Seton’s call for backup over the radio and telling Maggie to stay put at Idlewood while he responded.
“Should you? I’m the cop, not you. And last I checked, there are dead bodies piling up faster than I can count.” He waves the gun toward a spot beside the stone wall and waits for me to move. “You should be at your aunt’s house. Asleep. And far away from whatever’s happening here.”
Beside me, Ginger whines. Gilcrest is the only person other than Freya whom the German shepherd trusts. He could have hiked the trail here earlier, when he heard Freya shooting at targets. Maybe he watched from the cover of the forest before creeping out while Freya had her back to him, her headphones on. Maybe, for a moment, Freya was glad to see him.
He keeps the gun trained on me, eyes alert, scanning the darkness, as he crosses the grass to where Ginger sits. He offers her a hand to sniff, then retrieves a bottle of water from his coat pocket, twists the cap off with his teeth, and drizzles the water slowly enough for Ginger to lap at it thirstily. “How long has she been out here by herself?” he asks.
“You tell me,” I say.
“Lose the attitude and answer the questions or I’ll release her,” Gilcrest says. “She’ll make you tell me what the hell is going on. Where’s Freya? She wouldn’t leave Ginger tied up in the middle of nowhere like this.”
Ginger finishes lapping at the water. Gilcrest tosses the bottle aside and strokes her between the ears. She closes her eyes, presses against his leg, and sighs. “You’re okay, girl,” Gilcrest says. “We’ll get you off this mountain.”
Gilcrest isn’t here as a kidnapper or a murderer. He isn’t here as a cop. He’s here because of someone he cares about, someone he may love. I take a chance, and decide to trust him. “I don’t know how long Ginger’s been alone,” I say. “I was at the farm and heard barking. Freya’s truck is parked in Paul’s sugarhouse. Someone stabbed my father. He’s barely conscious but alive. And I couldn’t find Paul anywhere.”
Gilcrest takes in what I’ve told him. “Sounds to me like your father really did come to the Landing that night. That’ll be good for the podcast.”
He holsters the gun and punches a number into his phone. He gives our location and a brief synopsis of the situation. “Be fast,” he says as he clicks off. “That was the chief. She’s sending an ambulance to take care of your father.”
