Cross My Heart (Detectives Kane and Alton)

“Stay safe, Jenna.” Kane pulled his horse around and took off in a cloud of dust.

As the storm raged around her and lightning zigzagged across the darkening sky, Jenna pulled out her satellite phone and called Rowley to give her position, but the reception was breaking up. She could only grasp the odd word from Rowley’s urgent reply. “I can’t understand you. You’re breaking up.” She texted him a message with her coordinates and tried again. “Rowley are you there?”

“We’ve been trying to reach you… Agent Wells called.… Hospital… might be…” The line went dead.

Forty-Seven

The wind buffeted Kane as it whistled through the trees and lifted his massive black gelding’s long mane like a woman’s hair in a shampoo commercial. The trail was easy going at first, but subsidence caused by the last melt had left it narrow in parts. Wide gashes had gnawed at the edges. Soil and rock had crumbled away and spilled into the ravine. Pine trees tilted over the chasm at unnatural angles, their roots exposed, and some had fallen far below, their once green needles now brown and crumbling. The sight saddened him. It reminded him of the way some people ripped young pines from the ground and left them to die, as a Christmas tree, to be put out with the trash. He snorted. To him killing a tree didn’t seem right when he was celebrating a birth. Oh, he loved the tradition of decorating a tree for the holidays, but the plastic one he dusted off and decorated each year looked just fine in his cottage.

He whistled again and heard the response, but again the direction was distorted by the echo. He cupped his hands around his mouth. “I’m coming, Duke.”

Lightning cracked around them and thunder roared loud enough to rally the Vikings in Valhalla, b

ut his horse didn’t so much as flinch. He urged Warrior forward; the sure-footed gelding reminded him of a horse trained for a knight in days gone by. He’d read about the ways the warrior horses were trained to move from side to side to enable a knight to keep his seat as he swung a heavy sword, and during battle they’d rear and use their flying hooves to take out a foot soldier. Fearless and brave, they rarely allowed anyone but their owners to ride them and would return to a fallen knight rather than run away. His horse, Warrior, was fearless, and he could trust him to pick his way without guidance through just about any terrain. He’d taken to Kane at once and they’d bonded.

As they moved up the trail, Warrior stopped and snickered in a greeting. Kane scanned the trees and the path ahead. A fallen pine blocked the way, but it was narrow enough for the horse to step over. Perhaps Jenna had already made it to the cut-through. But no white horse or anything else came down the path. Thunder rolled and a whine came on a gust of wind. “Duke? Where are you, boy?”

The next second, Duke’s head appeared from behind the fallen log, but instead of his usual happy dance, his mouth pulled back, exposing his teeth, and he barked in a savage warning, his head turned toward the forest. Warrior shivered and stepped sideways. Kane pulled out his rifle and scoped the shadows. Something was there, and Duke considered it a threat. Sniffing the air for the scent of a bear, Kane dismounted and, holding his rifle shoulder high, moved along the tree line, using each pine to cover his back. He caught sight of a shadow, man or bear it was hard to tell with the trees in constant motion. Behind him Warrior had remained where he’d left him, head held high and ears pricked. A twig cracked behind him and the next instant a crossbow bolt slammed into the tree two inches from his nose. He dived to the cover of the trees and belly-crawled to one end of the log. Crossbow bolts hit the log with sickening thumps. So, not a bear, then? Who are you? Adams or Long?

The idea that someone had used his love of his dog to lure him to his death annoyed him. He reached for his combat mode and everything slowed—it was as if the distance between one second and the next had grown a thousand times longer. His mind went to Jenna and he tapped his com. “Jenna. Jenna, do you copy?”

Nothing.

“Jenna, do you copy?

The storm raging above him was interfering with the signal. Keeping his head down, he moved closer to Duke. “Good boy.” He reached out to rub his ears and Duke tried desperately to crawl closer. “Stay. I’ll get you untied. Lie down.” He pushed on Duke’s back.

Someone had secured Duke to the fallen tree using his leash. Kane edged closer and had him untied in seconds. He needed to get to the cover of the trees and, with one hand on Duke, urged him forward. The dog moved on his belly just as he’d taught him, and they edged their way back to safety.

Before Kane could get to his feet, two bolts came at him from different directions. They were close. Too damn close. “Sheriff’s Department. If you take another shot at me. I’m going to take you down. I don’t give second chances.”

Zing. Thwack. Another bolt just missed him and hit the trunk behind him. As he rolled behind a snowberry bush, he caught a glimpse of something shiny in the shadows. He lifted his rifle and took the shot. Lightning flashed and in that millisecond of light, he saw a man in a cowboy hat and slicker tumble into the ravine, his hat falling from his head as he fell, arms wide. Kane scanned the forest. With another unknown intent on killing him close by, he needed to move right now. Making sure Duke was well hidden under the bush and supplied with water, he cupped the dog’s face and looked him in the eyes. “I know you’re scared but you must stay. Understand? Stay.”

Moving swiftly, Kane used the dense forest as cover and headed back down the trail. The shooter was to his left, and he needed to come around behind him. The wind howled and the lightning intensified, but Kane used it to his advantage. When the lightning lit up the sky, he waited for the roll of thunder and then ran through the dry bushes, using the noise to cover his movements. This was what he’d been trained for and it was as natural as breathing. With his back and front protected by tall, fragrant pines, he waited for the man to make his next move. The one thing being a sniper had taught him was patience. He could stay frozen in time for hours if necessary. It didn’t take long at all before the shape of another man dressed the same, in cowboy hat and slicker, with a rifle over one shoulder and carrying a crossbow, appeared in the distance heading to the fork in the trail and in Jenna’s direction. He shook his head in disbelief. Jenna had insisted someone was stalking her and now he’d seen two men on the trail and both had shot at him. She’d been in danger, and it hadn’t been her imagination after all.

His stomach tightened. With the coms down he’d try the satellite phone to call Jenna to warn her. The call didn’t connect, the screen displaying a no service message, and he swallowed hard. If the men had been stalking Jenna, why did they try and take him down unless they wanted to pin his head to a tree with a crossbow bolt? Had they captured her and wanted him to watch their macabre show? He stared toward the retreating man. Good luck with that— your buddy can’t help you now.

If the men had captured or hurt Jenna, it was his fault. He should’ve known they’d use his Achilles heel to get him into the forest and no doubt had dragged Duke from his truck. The plan had been ingenious. They’d have known he’d drop everything to find his dog, and any local would know that during the search he’d send Jenna along the safest trail. He’d been so concerned about Duke he’d let his guard down and allowed Jenna to fall into their trap, but he’d turned the tables. One was dead. His shot had been dead center with zero chance of survival. Rage could easily take control, and he couldn’t allow his feelings for Jenna to influence his emotions. He breathed in and out, pushed everything out of his mind, and dropped into his combat zone. Cold determination to take down this man enveloped him. Through the scope on his rifle, he could see the man clearly as he moved along the trail across the ravine, heading in Jenna’s direction. This animal who killed without mercy had just met a superior predator. In the forest he moved like a ghost. He dropped back into the deep shadows and trained his rifle on the man. He slowed his heartbeat and aimed. The shooter had just become a target. And I never miss.

Forty-Eight

“Rowley?” Jenna stared at the phone in disbelief. She pressed her com. “Kane, can you hear me?”

Nothing.

Against her legs, Seagull’s skin rippled in fright and she flung her head high, her nostrils flaring. Jenna reined her in, turning her in small circles. “It’s okay. It’s just a dry storm, we’ll be fine.” She leaned down and stroked the mare’s neck, keeping her voice calm. “As soon as we find Duke we’ll go home. We just have to keep moving down the trail.”

As she lifted her head, a blinding flash of lightning revealed a glimpse of a man watching her from the shadows. Dressed in a cowboy hat and slicker with a black balaclava covering his face and carrying a crossbow, he was too familiar. Blinking away the red spots in her eyes, Jenna shook her head, not believing what she was seeing. She reached for her weapon and searched the forest, but by the next flash the man had vanished. Had she imagined him? She’d seen the man who’d invaded her home three times in succession now, and each time had found no one there. Could she be suffering from PTSD? The possibility was staring her in the face, and the last thing she needed slap-bang in the middle of a murder investigation was flashbacks. She’d be no good to anyone if she couldn’t function properly. “Am I losing my mind?”

Frantically looking around one more time as the lightning flashed, illuminating the forest, and finding nothing but trees groaning in the wind, she holstered her weapon. Her horse danced around, the rolls of thunder and flashes of lightning like gunshots cracked around her terrifying the mare. Heart thundering in her chest, Jenna urged the terrified horse onward, soon reaching the exact place where Stone, some years previously, had shot Kane in the head and she’d been unable to prevent his fall into the ravine. The wind howled around her, p

lastering her exposed flesh with dust and pine needles. She bent low, keeping her attention on the narrow trail ahead. Not much farther and she would be at the cut-through, but the going was slow with a reluctant mare.

A sound like a man laughing sent shivers down her spine. Her pulse quickened and she turned in the saddle and scanned the trees behind her. Terror slammed into her as her worst nightmare stepped from the forest. James Stone stood grinning at her not twenty yards away. How could he have escaped prison? It was impossible. Blinking through the mist, she gaped at the sight of him, not believing her eyes. It was as if fate had re-created a terrible loop and flung her back in time.

“Hello, Jenna.” Stone’s voice carried toward her over the noise of the storm like a hideous memory as he removed the balaclava and dropped it to the ground. He carried a rifle but wasn’t pointing it at her. “Haven’t you dreamed about rewinding our time here together? I sure have.” He took a few steps toward her. “This time without the cavalry, like it was supposed to have been.” He leaned his rifle against the tree, peeled off the slicker, and tossed the hat to reveal army camouflage. “Just you, me, and maybe my hunting knife.” His laughter was muffled by the wind. He opened his hands wide. “One on one. A fair fight.” He shook his head. “No? Your choice.” He reached for his rifle.

Survival instinct had Jenna’s hand going for her Glock but with lightning flashing all around her, a gale force wind, and a terrified horse moving below her, the chances of even winging Stone would be remote—and he had a rifle. She had one option: run. She spun her horse around and, keeping low, she bolted down the trail. As they turned a bend not twenty yards away from the fork on the main trail and safety, Jenna’s hair rose all around her face and a prickling sensation crawled over her head. The next instant, in a flash of brilliant white light, a tall pine exploded and fell in a wall of fire across the trail. Flames danced across the ground, hungry yellow and red tongues licking the dry forest floor, climbing trunks, and leaping from branch to branch in milliseconds. In a mighty roar the forest ignited into a wild, uncontrollable beast. Seagull reared, screaming in terror, and twisted, launching Jenna into the air. The ground came up fast and she landed flat on her back, gasping for air. Flying hooves barely missed her face as Seagull stamped and reared inches from her. Jenna’s fingers had instinctively tightened around the reins.