She moved quickly, and I stepped back and kicked in the door.
I was instantly glad I’d made the little girl move. Her mother, beaten and bruised, was facedown on the bed, bleeding, held by the back of the neck while a huge man loomed over her with his dick out. He’d frozen when I came into the room, but I could tell from her shredded dress and discarded underwear that he was moments away from raping her.
I walked into the room, away from the destroyed door, lifted the gun and levelled it at his chest. “Don’t move or I’ll shoot.”
He took several steps back, and the mostly naked woman scrambled off the bed, ran to where the door used to be, and was out of the room in seconds, shrieking her daughter’s name.
“Go outside,” I barked at her, and when the man, who now had his dick tucked back in his pants, took a step forward, I moved to block his way. “Don’t.”
“Who the hell are you, and what the fuck are you doing in my house?” he thundered, and I realized then, with the slur of the last word, how very drunk he was.
“It’s not your house,” I reminded him, glancing away just for a second to make sure his ex-wife and his daughter were safely down the hall. “You’re trespassing.”
“I’ll kill her!” he shrieked, and because he was sloshed, my gun didn’t give him pause as he charged toward me.
Feinting left, I tripped him as he lunged for me and lost his footing, his momentum flinging him into the wall. Hitting it hard, the impact stunned him for a second before he bounced off and tumbled to the floor. I was on him fast, kicking him solidly in the side of the head. The first one stunned him, the second knocked him out.
I rolled him to his side to make sure he didn’t choke if he puked, which he did a moment later. It happened to buddies of mine who were blackout drunks, and I always had to stay up all night when they passed out on me.
I used a discarded t-shirt and wiped his face, slid him away from the vomit, and then stood up and called the Montana Highway Patrol. I was fairly certain that Sheriff Thomas and Deputy Reed were not up for the task of securing the inebriated lumberjack.
Walking back out to the living room, I found the little house empty, and so went to the garage to look for rope. The only thing there was twine and bungee cords, but since I’d been trained to use what was available, I made do.
I took pictures on my phone of the unconscious man before I started tying him up so there could be no question of the state he was in before I began. Once I was sure he’d have to be Houdini to get out of my knot work, I got up, walked back into the living room and out the front door.
The cheering was instant.
Holy crap.
The street was full of people, and they were all clapping and whistling. Olivia waved from across the street, looking at me with big eyes, the question obvious, so I gestured her to me and she bolted from Mrs. Whitley’s side, reaching me as I sank to one knee, her hands on my face.
“Are you okay?” she asked, checking me over. “Are you bleeding? Did he knock out any of your teeth?”
“No, love,” I assured her, giving her a hug.
She wrapped her arms around my neck and squeezed, and the clapping got louder as way too many people began crowding around us.
“You’re a guardian angel,” Olivia pronounced, and even as I groaned, I heard a little voice say that yeah, I was.
Turning, I had enough time to let Olivia go before her friend was in my arms, face in the side of my neck, crying and shaking. Her mother was right behind her, folding into me, sobbing, holding on tight, as Olivia pet her hair.
Seven
The highway patrol and the police in Whitefish both made it to the house before the sheriff, which was a sad commentary on what would have happened to Mariah Rubio and her mother if I hadn’t been there.
“Those are nice knots there, Calder,” one of the troopers assured me when he walked back out after a few minutes.
“Thank you,” I said from where I was talking to his supervisor, Highway Patrol Captain Dennis Noguchi, who had explained to me that his commander, Robert Eads, in charge of District VI in Kalispell, was not thrilled that he was getting yet another call about an incident in Ursa. Apparently the sheriff was having trouble keeping the peace.
“It should just be rezoned,” Sergeant Tavares out of Whitefish explained to me after he shook my hand and his men, four of them, carried Scott Rubio out of his ex-wife’s home to one of their cruisers.