Chapter 9
He was crazy. She’d heard the sound but assumed it had been a tree branch breaking, as often happened out here.
He was imagining things. That had to be it.
Except, Spence was far from crazy. He didn’t go around imagining things. And when it came to almost anything here in the backcountry, at least on the ground, he had more experience than she’d ever have. And he’d certainly had more experience with firearms.
He was also lying on top of her. She was finding it a little hard to breathe and had a suspicion it wasn’t solely because of his solid weight pressing down upon her.
And he didn’t seem to be breathing at all.
Then she realized he’d lifted his head just slightly and tilted it as if listening. For another shot?
Another shot.
Someone had actually shot at them. She was beginning to get past the shock and process it now.
“Did they think we were a deer or something?” she asked, whispering by instinct as if the likely faraway shooter could hear her.
“Possible,” Spence muttered. “But given where we were standing and that it came from further up the hill, not likely.” His mouth curved into a wry half smile. “Not to mention the color of your jacket.”
It was proof of how rattled she was that she hadn’t even thought of that. Her lime-green puffy jacket would be hard to mistake for a deer or any other wild creature.
Some dirt a couple of feet away seemed to jump of its own accord and a moment later she heard the same kind of crack she’d heard before. And now that Spence had told her, it seemed obvious.
“He’s not giving up,” she said. “We need to move.”
“My rifle’s in the shed.” He shifted as if he were about to get up.
“But that would be going toward him,” she protested, a nightmare scenario flashing through her mind of Spence lying on the ground, bleeding out.
“The tent isn’t going to stop a rifle round. Only other option is the plane, which is immobilized.”
“But there’s the radio,” she said quickly, liking this idea much better. “Call for help.”
“Which would take too long to get here to be much help.”
“The plan is still more solid than the tent,” she said. “It might not stop a bullet, but the walls of the plane would at least slow it down, wouldn’t it?”
“Point taken,” Spence said.
She felt a flash of relief at his agreement. She would feel better, safer, whether it was true or not, in her beloved plane.
A third shot hit the dirt, barely missing her left hip. She couldn’t stop her instinctive flinch.
“We need to move,” Spence said urgently. “Zigzag down to the big rock then cut right to the tree line.”
Hetty nodded. “On three?”
She saw that familiar Spence grin that so captivated her flash for a split second. That he could do it under these circumstances impressed her more than she wanted to admit.
“On ‘now,’” he said. “Like…now!”
She wasn’t sure how he did it, but almost instantly he was on his feet and had pulled her up with him in one smooth, graceful move, reminding her yet again how strong he really was. How powerful.
And then they were running, and with the zigzag course he set, it was all she could do to both stay on her feet and keep up with him. It felt like a wild, wacky made-up game of some kind. Except for the very real threat as more shots rang out.
She felt a little safer as they passed the big rock and then dodged into the tree line. Something about the heavy cover of thick branches and solid trunks made this nightmare seem survivable.
“Is he just a bad shot?” she asked when they’d slowed slightly in the shelter of the big trees.
“Or maybe too far away,” Spence said. “Given the time between the shots hitting and the sound, I’m hoping for the latter.”
That made sense to her, since even she could hit a target if she was close enough.
“You piss anybody off lately?” he asked sourly.
“Only you,” she countered, an edge in her voice; this was no time to be joking around. Even if you were Spence Colton.
He half turned to look at her. “You never piss me off. Irritate, yes, but full-on pissed? Nope.”
She had the strangest feeling there was more depth to that seemingly teasing answer than he was letting show. Maybe it was the way he was looking her straight in the eye. But this was no time to get lost again in her meandering wonderings about Spence Colton.
They worked their way down to where the plane was beached. She stopped dead the moment it was in sight.
“It’s further out,” she said.
“Yeah,” Spence agreed, and he didn’t sound happy. “And I know I tied it off securely.”
When they got close enough, she could see the mooring line must have come undone, allowing the plane to drift offshore a few yards, the line trailing through the water.
Her brow furrowed. She knew Spence was right. He’d never not make certain things were absolutely secure, so it had to have been untied, maybe even pushed free of the beach.
He didn’t hesitate, even though he had to get wet again.
Although, only knee-deep this time, just far enough to retrieve the rope and pull the plane back in.
She ran to help, knowing a little extra weight on the line couldn’t hurt.
When the plane was beached again, and he was tying it off, she scrambled onto the float and then up into the cockpit, while Spence grabbed his emergency pack out of the bin in the back.
Once she was in the pilot’s seat, it took a moment for her to process what she was seeing.
Every reachable wire in the cockpit had either been yanked free or cut.
Panels had been pulled free to expose more wiring, also cut.
Most of the screens and dials had been smashed and every knob appeared broken off.
She had little doubt, but tried the radio anyway.
And got what she’d expected and feared. Nothing.
“What the hell?” Spence’s words as he leaned into the cockpit were short, sharp and vehement. He almost immediately pulled back and looked around, scanning the water and landscape around them.
Hetty snapped out of her stunned state and realized he was looking for any trace of who had done this.
The idea that the vandal might still be lurking around—and that there may be someone additional targeting them other than the shooter—terrified her.
She wasn’t normally so slow, but the impossible question of who would do this had rendered her normally sharp mind sluggish.
Was it the same person? Was the hand that had done this damage now holding the weapon that was firing at them? But why?
“Damn,” Spence muttered. “That’s what I heard.”
“What?”
He didn’t look at her when he answered, but kept scanning the area around them.
“Back when I was stacking the crates in the shed, I heard…something. From down here. But I couldn’t tell what it was, and it didn’t repeat, so I figured it was probably a fishing boat in the area, or an elk or some other animal.
” His jaw tightened. “That’ll teach me to assume. ”
“Do you think it’s the same person who’s shooting?”
“Out here this far, let’s say the chance of it being two different people, one shooting at us, another destroying our means of communication, is pretty low.”
“Unless they’re working together.”
His head snapped around to look at her. He grimaced and let out a compressed breath. “There is that,” he muttered.
“But…why?”
“That’s the big question, isn’t it? There’s nobody that—”
The lower right corner of the windshield shattered into a starburst. Spence dived sideways and down.
He took her with him and they slid toward the floor.
She gasped audibly. Had he been hit? For an instant, she froze at the idea.
Then she erupted into motion. She squirmed around in the cramped space.
Her heart slammed in her chest when she saw blood trickling down the side of his face.
“Stay down,” he hissed.
She breathed again. He was alive. “How bad are you hurt?”
“I’m fine. We’ve got to move.”
“But you’re bleeding!”
As she said it, the blood reached his right eye and he swiped at it. He winced, but it seemed more in annoyance than pain.
“We’ve got to move,” he repeated. “He knows we’re here, and it sounds like he’s using high-velocity rounds, so this isn’t going to be a shelter after all.”
He was clearly coherent and aware, so she shelved her immediate panic. “Move to where?”
He was silent for a moment, clearly thinking.
Hetty tried not to move, which was difficult. What was more difficult was ignoring the feel of Spence’s body pressing down on her.
“Remember the cave?”
She knew immediately what he meant. Before they’d set up this semipermanent campsite, they’d explored the surrounding area thoroughly. “The one northwest of the camp?”
“Yes. If we can make it to the tree line, we can head west then up.”
“All right.”
“I’ll take lead and you—”
“I will. You’re hurt.”
“I’m fine,” he repeated.
“You’re the one who’s bleeding.”
He swiped again at the trickle of blood on his face. “I just got nicked by some glass or something. It’s just a—”
“If you say it’s just a scratch, Spence Colton, I will knee you hard enough to make you scream.”
She saw him realize she was in the perfect position beneath him to do just that. And to her surprise, he laughed. “That’s my girl,” he said.
Before she could ask what exactly he meant by that, he was moving.