Chapter 7

If the blood had been there for longer than a minute or so, it would’ve frozen, leaving it a dull, orangey red. She wondered if it was from an animal, and checked around the area for any tracks. The few dots of blood led to larger blotches in the snow and then an arc of what appeared to be arterial spray. Her stomach tightened with each new sighting, and she went still as she spotted a trail of prints—boot prints. Her head jerked up as she peered through the trees, mentally cursing the dim light and the shadows that made it too easy for something to hide.

Keeping her eyes on her surroundings, she opened the door and found Justice’s lead by feel. The dog squirmed in excitement as she latched the leash onto the first hook on his harness. After grabbing her new portable radio, she gave him the command to hop out of the truck. Justice immediately snuffled at the blood.

“Justice, find.” She kept her voice low and her gaze focused forward. There were a hundred non-criminal explanations for the blood and the boot prints, but the strange and eerie silence of her surroundings had her on high-alert. It didn’t help that she hadn’t even been in town for a day, and there’d already been a probable arson and murder, but the situation wasn’t enough to call for backup, she decided. She slid her radio into her coat pocket.

The hound bayed, the sound echoing around them, and Kit flinched. So much for staying quiet, she thought, following Justice as he plunged into the forest. He barked again, the sound drawn out to a howl at the end, and Kit spotted movement ahead of them through the trees. She ran faster, allowing Justice to tow her forward, and the motion came again, along with a flash of bright orange that she’d never seen in nature. As Justice scrambled over a downed tree and circled a small grove of aspen, she was forced to keep her eyes on her footing. When she looked up again, a man stood just thirty feet away. She jerked to a halt, forcing Justice to stop as well.

The man looked to be in his early twenties, and Kit automatically cataloged his features in case she had to describe him later—or find a match in a photo line-up. He stared at her, and Kit felt a chill touch her spine. Her attention fixed on the knife hanging from his belt and the streaks of dark red that stained his coveralls and hands.

He’s probably out here hunting, Kit told herself, but there was something chilling about his dead-eyed expression—something threatening. She took a breath, about to ask him about the blood. Before she could say a word, he turned and ran.

“Stop!” she shouted, resuming her pursuit. “Police!”

The man ignored the command, speeding up instead. Even if he hadn’t done anything illegal, he was still running from her when she’d clearly identified herself as law enforcement. That was enough reasonable suspicion for her to continue to chase him. Justice bayed, caught up in the excitement of the chase, and Kit sprinted behind him. The adrenaline already had her heart pumping, and her lungs were hungering for oxygen, but she kept running. Branches whipped across her, scratching her face and catching on her clothes. The ground was rocky and covered in patchy snow, hiding bits of ice that made her slip every few strides. She managed to stay upright, but she worried with every slick patch that it might be the one to bring her down.

The person in front of her moved easily, as if he was accustomed to running through these woods. The trees grew thicker, blocking out most of the sun. It painted strange shapes on the ground, making it hard to tell what was an obstacle and what was merely a shadow. Despite the treacherous footing, Kit pushed her feet to move faster, and Justice happily picked up the pace when the lead slackened.

“Police! Stop!” she yelled again, hating how winded she sounded. She was used to pavement and manicured lawns, not this snowy wilderness. The only sounds she could hear were her own rasping breaths, the crunch of snow under her boots, and the swish of her coat as her arms pumped at her sides. Despite Justice’s presence, the silent, towering pines made her feel small and alone, knowing that backup was miles away. It was up to her to keep herself—and her dog—alive. Shaking off her dark thoughts, she called out again. “Stop! Police!”

The runner didn’t listen. As Kit dodged around a squat pine, the trees thinned, the forest opening up to a flat rock shelf that abruptly ended, the edge falling off into a deep gorge. On the opposite side of the crevasse, a steep cliff rose from the valley. The man was nowhere in sight.

Justice ran full speed toward the cliff edge. Sucking in a scream, Kit immediately put on the brakes. Her boots slid on the rocky ground, bits of shale and grit rolling like ball bearings under her soles as she neared the edge of the drop-off. Her jaw clamped shut as she grabbed a nearby tree branch, coming to a stuttering halt right before the edge of the cliff.

She hauled on the lead, but she was too late. Justice’s momentum carried him over the edge. Wrapping the lead around her arm, she held tight to the branch as she waited for over a hundred pounds of falling dog to drag her over the cliff with him. Even if his harness or lead didn’t snap, there was no way she could keep him from falling when he weighed almost as much as she did. Clenching her molars together until her jaw ached, she braced for him to hit the end of his lead, for the jolt and her dog’s sharp yelp of pain.

It never came.

Releasing the branch, she ran toward the edge, praying that he hadn’t slipped from his harness. He’s gone. The horrible thought sent a spear of pain through her, and her lungs seized with despair. He had to have fallen. Nothing else made sense. As she reached the brink, Justice popped his head up over the edge, eyeing her curiously, as if wondering why they’d stopped. Kit glanced over what she’d been sure was a drop that would’ve hurdled them to their deaths and saw a ledge only a few feet down.

Her knees went watery with relief, and she allowed herself a second of thankfulness before pulling herself together. Resisting the urge to hug Justice, she gave him some slack and jumped off the tiny cliff. The man already had a lead on them, and she couldn’t delay them any more than she already had. She mentally cursed herself for the time-wasting error, but told herself that there was no way she could’ve known about the ledge, not unless she’d been familiar with this particular spot. “Sorry, Justice. Find!”

He eagerly leapt forward again, and she followed, trying to ignore the shaky weakness in her legs. She couldn’t see movement ahead of them anymore, but she knew that Justice wouldn’t lose the trail, so she concentrated on not getting smacked in the face by a tree branch or slipping on any hidden ice.

Twisted trees grew in unlikely directions, forming around the scattered boulders. There was less snow, but the path was just as treacherous, since the rocky trail was as slick as the icy ground had been. Her footsteps echoed eerily off the rock faces, making it sound as if they were being pursued my multiple people. She switched between watching her footing and craning her neck to spot anyone approaching.

Justice led her through a narrow space between two huge rocks and into an unexpected clearing. Peripherally, Kit noticed a couple of trailer homes at the far side of the open area, but most of her attention was on the five people spread out in a rough half-circle.

They were pointing shotguns at her.

She skidded to a stop, hauling back on the lead, and towed Justice toward her. Her hand moved toward the small of her back, where her gun sat in its holster beneath her coat, but one of the people surrounding her racked his gun. Kit held her hands up at shoulder level instead, her right fingers still fisted around the leash. The radio in her pocket seemed impossibly far away. Even if she could reach it before being shot, it would be a long time before any backup could arrive.

“Justice, heel.” Somehow, her voice came out evenly, although her breath was ragged from exertion and fear. The hound sat at her side, close enough so that he was leaning against her leg. “I’m a police officer.”

In answer, another person racked her gun, and Kit fought the urge to take a step back. Her brain flipped through options, but none of them were good. She’d run far enough out of the trees that she couldn’t sprint back to cover quickly enough. They’d have plenty of time to shoot her in the back. They were a good fifteen feet away, so she couldn’t try to disarm one of them. If the person she ran toward didn’t shoot her, the other four would.

Her eyes scanned over the encircling crowd. They ranged in age from early twenties—the guy she’d been chasing—to a woman in her late sixties. There were three men and two women, and all of them appeared to be fully willing to shoot her, judging by their determinedly unfriendly expressions. Hugh’s warning about suspicious local gun owners popped into her head.

“I’m not here to harass anyone,” she said, trying to keep her voice calm, even as she spoke loud enough for all of them to hear her.

“Yeah, right. Why you chasing Bart, then?” one of the men demanded, his tone hostile enough to make Kit’s heart rate kick up another notch. His light eyes narrowed in suspicion, and he spit tobacco juice to the side without taking the gun or his gaze off of her. “With a dog, too.”

“We were following a trail of blood through the woods. I was concerned that someone was hurt.” Or that someone had been hurting others. Another quick glance around the half-circle showed that no one was obviously bleeding. The guy who’d run from her still had dark streaks of blood on his coveralls and hands, but he didn’t appear to be injured.

The man—the group’s spokesperson, apparently—barked a laugh that didn’t sound amused. Kit noticed his few remaining teeth were an unhealthy shade of brown. “Rabbit blood. Gonna arrest him for bunny murder?”

“No one’s getting arrested.” The thought that there were traps set in the woods she and Justice had just plowed through made her stomach lurch. Even though the more vicious varieties, like the leg-hold trap, were illegal, she had a feeling that the people currently aiming guns at a cop probably weren’t the most law-abiding folk. “That’s good to know. I’ll just take my dog back to my truck now and let dispatch know it was a false alarm.” How she wished she’d called this into dispatch before she started following the blood trail. The guns didn’t waiver at her bluff. “I’m glad no one’s hurt.”

The guy she’d chased—Bart—snorted a humorless laugh. “Not yet.”

Her stomach cramped as panic tried to hammer its way into her brain. Kit firmly blocked it out. If she lost the ability to think, then she was going to do something instinctual and stupid—like pull her gun—that would get her and Justice killed. The dog whined, obviously sensing her distress, and leaned more heavily against her. Kit braced against his weight, barely keeping herself from stumbling to the side while her brain raced in circles, trying to figure out a plan. She had nothing except continuing to talk.

“Let’s keep it that way,” she said, proud that none of her raging anxiety could be heard in her voice. “Right now, we just have a misunderstanding. I thought someone was hurt and needed help, but you let me know that everyone here is fine. As it sits, there’s no problem. I’ll go back to my truck, tell dispatch all is well, and you’ll return to your lives. If something happens to me, on the other hand, that will be bad. I’m a cop. That means that, if I’m hurt, you’ll have every law enforcement officer in the area descending on you, making your lives miserable.”

Except no one knows where I am.

She paused, looking around the group. None of their expressions showed any sign that she was getting through to them. Sweat trickled down the back of her neck, quickly turning cold. “All you have to do is lower your guns, and I’ll walk away. It’s an easy solution for all of us.”

The first man who’d spoken laughed again. It sounded slightly more authentic this time. “Don’t matter. We shoot you or don’t shoot you. Either way, the cops’ll be on us. Typical. The government’ll take any excuse to stick their nose in.”

“You have my word that no one will bother you if you let me go unharmed.” Kit’s voice shook slightly, and she dug her fingernails into her palm. The quick bite of pain steadied her. “You won’t even be in my report. I won’t mention you to anyone.”

There was a pause that went on long enough to give Kit a spark of hope before he spoke again. “Liar.”

He tilted his head, aiming the gun, and Kit started to panic. Her hand twitched, ready to go for her pistol, but there was no way she could draw and shoot five people before at least one of them managed to kill her. Justice whined, reminding her that she wasn’t going to be the only one dying today. The idea of her dog getting hurt firmed her resolve, and she tensed, ready to grab her gun.

“What the hell are you all doing, Rufus?”

The unexpected voice behind her made her jerk, and she whipped her head around to look over her shoulder. A large, bearded man strode out of the trees toward her, and Kit recognized him as the dorky Sasquatch who’d helped her park her trailer that morning. She blinked, wondering for a half second if she was imagining him. When he placed himself between her and her firing squad, however, she knew he was real. She could smell him—woodsmoke and pine needles—and she was pretty certain that even the most welcome of hallucinations didn’t smell.

The sight of his broad back snapped her out of her shock, and she stepped to the side. There was no way she was using a Good Samaritan as a human shield. Justice followed her, tucking his gangly body behind her and leaning against the back of her legs. Her dog didn’t have any qualms about using her for protection, obviously.

“What’s going on?” her rescuer asked, and the five people who’d been all too ready to shoot her exchanged looks before lowering their guns.

“Just a misunderstanding,” Kit said quickly. Her legs had gone soft with relief as the weapons pointed toward the ground, and she stiffened them. She was so close to getting out of this situation. Now was not the time to collapse on the snowy ground, as much as her wavering limbs wanted to. “I saw some blood in the snow and thought someone was hurt, but it was just a rabbit. No one’s injured, and we were all going to go our separate ways in peace.”

Her nerdy Bigfoot gave her a quick look, arching one eyebrow in a way that showed he knew exactly what had been about to happen and what she was now trying to do. “Well, that sounds like a good solution. That’s your truck on my road?”

She nodded, watching him but keeping the other five in her peripheral. Her fingers itched with the need to draw her weapon, but she knew that would just cause the tension to escalate again. Even with her newly arrived ally, it’d only take a second for one of the jumpy, suspicious mountain people to raise their shotgun and blow off someone’s head. No one was safe, not yet.

“Were you coming to see me?”

“You’re the fire lookout?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Then yes.”

He smiled at her, and she tried to return it, but her lips were shaking from residual adrenaline. “I’ll see you at the tower, then. I’m just going to talk to Rufus first.”

“You’ll be okay?” she asked. He didn’t seem to be worried about being alone with them, but she hated to leave the guy who’d just helped her alone with that trigger-happy bunch.

He looked pleased. “Yes. I’ll be fine.”

When she didn’t see any hesitation or concern on his part, she dipped her chin and started toward the trees. As she left, she kept her head turned and her gaze on the people watching her go, wanting to get out of the clearing before the backwoods five changed their minds. Her sweating fingers felt clammy inside her gloves as she tightened her fist around Justice’s lead. She wanted to run, but she kept her steps even and at a careful walk. The dog kept close to her side, his tail tucked and his head low, still reading her fear. Her attention stayed focused on the group in the clearing, and she tried to hide the relief that flooded her as she reached the tree line.

Once there were several trees between Kit and the shotguns, she sucked in a rough breath and started to jog, following their previous tracks. Her bearded ally’s voice filtered in after her.

“You can’t go pointing shotguns at people willy-nilly, Rufus…”

His words quickly faded as they moved farther away from the clearing. Justice soon perked up and took the lead, happy as could be with their second run. Kit carefully kept them in the tracks they’d made as they’d chased Bart, figuring that was the safest way to avoid getting caught in any of his traps. Ignoring the way her legs wanted to fold underneath her, Kit pushed herself faster, not slowing until they reached the truck.

Once she and Justice were both safely in the locked cab, she allowed herself to press her forehead against the steering wheel and take a deep breath. When it came out sounding more like a sob than an exhale, she squeezed her eyes shut and tried to steady her breathing. It didn’t work. Her body shook as the scene in the clearing replayed itself in her mind. In her eight years of policing, she’d never been so close to death. The worst part of it had been that, except for Justice, she’d been completely alone. Even when things had been at their worst in her previous job, the other officers would’ve backed her up in a crisis. Here in Monroe, it felt like she was on her own, and that was almost scarier than having shotguns aimed at her head.

A wet tongue licked her cheek, jolting her out of her terrifying thoughts. Turning her head, she looked at Justice and caught another slobbery dog kiss across her nose. With a shaky laugh that was too close to a sob, she hugged her dog, burying her face into his silky shoulder.

He didn’t give her long to wallow before he tried to climb onto her lap, his huge feet pressing painfully into her thigh.

“Oof, Justice,” she grunted with another watery laugh as she pushed him back to his own seat. “You’re too heavy to be a lap dog.”

Unoffended, he leaned over to give her face one last lick before giving himself a full-body shake. Following his example, Kit gave herself a mental one. She might not have a team watching her back, but she was still a cop, and she had a job to do. Having a breakdown was a waste of time. There was a witness waiting to talk to her.

Straightening in her seat, she shifted the truck into Drive.

Enough dwelling. She had to interview an intriguing lumberjack look-alike who was apparently good at both math and mountain-folk whispering.