Chapter Thirteen #2
“Lock it behind me,” he said again, then he headed back to the door.
The deadbolt submitted with a crack that reverberated through the tomb-silent house.
Night air knifed into his lungs as he stepped onto the porch, the dogs leaning against his legs, hackles bristling like spears, their guttural snarls echoing through his bones.
He froze, listening for the scrape of her locking the door before he descended into the waiting abyss. “Come on, boys. Let’s check the area.”
He strode across to the driveway to his pickup, as snow flurries danced around him.
A cold wind stirred the pines overhead, and he paused to glance down the empty street, no headlights glinting in the distance, no movement beyond a cat running across the street.
He pressed his key into the lock instead of using the fob, avoiding the telltale chirping that might give him away.
The door swung open, and he settled into the seat, the leather cold against his palms as the dogs stood staring into the darkness.
Reaching under the seat, he lifted his gun case and set it on his lap.
His fingers were moving across the combination lock; the tumbler clicked, and the lid popped open.
He drew out his pistol, its steel slide catching the pale glow of the streetlamp.
Carefully he loaded the magazine, each round sliding in with a muted metallic click.
He stuck a compact flashlight into his pocket, then eased out of the cab and moved to the end of the drive and his dogs followed.
Under the weak halo of the streetlamp, he swept the beam up and down the quiet lane, seeing nothing.
Satisfied there was no one in sight, he turned toward the woods that surrounded Skylar’s house.
He pushed through low-hanging branches, the flashlight’s beam glancing off damp leaves and exposed roots.
The damp earth gave off a musky scent. The dogs stayed with him, sniffing the ground.
He stooped low, and his light illuminated a scattering of cigarette butts, the white filters spotted with brown.
He straightened, a flicker of triumph in his chest, then retraced his steps to the truck.
Inside the cab, he rummaged for a box of latex gloves and a stack of small evidence bags.
Gloves on, he made his way back into the woods and harvested each butt with care, dropping them into labeled pouches, putting one butt in each bag.
Marlboro Reds, the same brand the ringleader favored.
Satisfied, he pushed further into the shadowed trees until the road reappeared.
No other clues. His jaw tightened as he imagined the culprits, crude men, careless enough to leave their telltale waste behind.
He smiled. “They’re getting sloppy,” he murmured, voice disappearing into the hush.
With the evidence secured, he returned to the truck and set the bags on the seat, but kept his weapon out, then climbed the steps and rapped gently on the door.
It opened almost at once. He and the dogs slipped inside, closing it softly behind him and clicking the lock.
Skylar stood just inside the threshold, the overhead light casting her pale face in sharp relief. Her eyes searched his.
“Is it snowing?” she asked.
“A little.”
“Find anything?” she whispered.
He nodded. “Cigarette butts. I’ll hand them off to Dave Monday.”
She drew in a shaky breath. “You think they’re theirs?”
“I do.” He offered a reassuring nod. “Let’s go back to bed. Nothing out there right now.”
She exhaled, letting her shoulders drop. “Okay, but I doubt I’ll sleep.”
“Same here,” he admitted, softening. “But for now, we’re safe.”
“I don’t understand why they’re bothering us.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “Because I’m onto them.”
Her brow furrowed. “How do they know that?”
He met her gaze steadily. “I told them. When I drove out of my driveway to come here, they pulled up behind me, drove around me, then pulled onto the shoulder. I stopped behind them.”
“Why would you do that?” she snapped, worry twisting her voice.
“To let them know I’m serious,” he said quietly.
She looked at him incredulously. “I hope you scared them.”
“They’re not that easily frightened.” He reached for her, drawing her into his arms. “I’ve dealt with rustlers my whole career. I know how they think.”
Her arms tightened around his waist. “I’m so scared you’ll get hurt.”
He pressed a kiss to her temple. “I’ll be fine. It’s my job. I can’t let fear stop me.”
“I’ll be happier when this is over.”
“So will I,” he agreed. “But you have to trust me. This is who I am, danger and all.” He cupped her face gently. “You either learn to live with it, or we shouldn’t keep seeing each other.”
She nodded. “I’ll try. I promise.”
He brushed a thumb across her cheek. “That’s all I ask.” He kissed her forehead. “Come on, way too early for either of us to be awake.”
“Do you have to have that gun in here?”
Rawley raised an eyebrow. “If I want to keep us safe, yes.”
“Okay.”
She took his hand, leading him through the house. In the bedroom, he shed his clothes, slipped under the cool sheets and drew her against him, holding her close as darkness settled around them. She would be strong. They both had to be.
****
Skylar woke up and turned to where Rawley lay, his features softened in slumber, dark lashes resting against his cheeks.
She slid out from under the warm comforter, walked across the cool hardwood to the bathroom, then made her way to the kitchen.
The antique wall clock showed nearly nine, much later than usual for her.
As she waited for her coffee to brew, filling the kitchen with its rich aroma, Rawley appeared in the doorway, hair tousled and eyes still heavy with sleep.
“Do you happen to have an extra toothbrush?” His voice was rough with sleep.
“I do. In the bathroom cabinet. There are several new ones in the right-side drawer, still in their packaging.”
“And why do you have several?” One eyebrow arched questioningly.
Skylar laughed. “It’s a habit from my mother. I don’t want to run out when I need one most.”
“I see.” He shook his head with a bemused smile, then disappeared back to the bedroom.
She heard the bathroom door click shut, then open again minutes later. She kept her eyes trained on the hallway, coffee mug warming her palms. When he reentered the kitchen, he moved toward her, cupped her cheeks in his hands and lowered his lips to hers in a lingering kiss that tasted like mint.
“Good morning,” he murmured against her mouth.
“Good morning.” She smiled against his lips. “I’m glad I brushed my teeth.”
He chuckled, the sound vibrating through her. “So, what do you want to do with this lazy day?”
“Could we go riding at your place? I’ve been dying to ride those trails again.”
“Sure—” He stopped mid-sentence as his gaze drifted past her shoulder to the window, his expression changing. “Have you looked outside?”
“No, why—” She gasped when she turned to see fat white flakes drifting past the glass, already coating the world in a pristine blanket. “Oh, it’s so pretty, like a snow globe.”
“It is,” he agreed, wrapping an arm around her waist. “It’s just that it could slow me down on the case. Those roads don’t need snow on them.”
Skylar snorted, nudging him with her elbow. “Please. You never slow down, Agent Bowman. Not even for blizzards.”
Rawley grinned. “You know me too well.”
“Would you like a cup of coffee?”
“Sure, but I can make it. I’m not helpless.”
Skylar smiled as she walked to the table, pulled out a chair and sat down, still cradling her coffee cup while Rawley made himself a cup. Once it finished, he joined her, lifting his cup to take a sip of the hot brew, then looked at her.
“What’s on your mind?” he asked.
Skylar sighed. “What are you doing for Thanksgiving?”
“I usually go to my parents’ house. Why?”
“I was just wondering if we were going to be together.”
“What about your parents?”
“They’re traveling. Ryan told me I could join her and Seth.” Skylar shrugged.
“Oh, well, you could come with me.”
“Really?”
“Of course.”
“Okay. I’d love to.” She grinned.
“Good.” He touched her hand. “Do you still want to go riding today?”
“I like riding in snow. That is, if you want to.”
“Sure. I like riding in the snow too. There’s something about the quiet.”
“Exactly.” She stood, put her cup in the sink then turned to face him. “I need to grab a shower.”
“Alright. I need to take the dogs out.”
“Okay. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”
Rawley nodded as he found the leashes, hooked them onto their collars, placed his hat on his head, then stepped outside while she headed to the bathroom.
****
Rawley stepped onto the frost-covered porch with the dogs, their breath forming misty clouds in the frigid air as he led them toward the edge of the pine-scented woods. He stamped his feet against the biting cold while waiting for them to sniff around the snow-laden underbrush.
“Come on, guys. I’m freezing my balls off.” He chuckled when both dogs swiveled their heads toward him, ears perked. “Yeah, I’m sorry you don’t have yours anymore. Hurry up. I want to get inside where it’s warm.”
When they finally finished, he tugged gently on their leashes and trudged back to the house, wincing as icy flakes melted against his neck.
The dogs shook vigorously, sending crystalline droplets flying while he brushed the powdery snow from the shoulders of his shirt and hat.
He stepped inside, sighing as the warmth of the house enveloped him.