Chapter 30
Micah continued to press his back against the oak tree, his breathing controlled and his mind already working through the situation.
The woods stayed silent.
There was no more movement.
No third shot.
Still, his pulse thrummed in his ears, but his hands were steady as he held his firearm and scanned the tree line to the north.
Nothing.
Only branches and shadows.
“We need to move,” Micah said. “Stay low. Keep the dogs close.”
“You think the shooter’s still out there?” Wyatt asked.
“I think we don’t wait around to find out.”
Caleb shifted behind the log, preparing to move. “On your count.”
Micah took one more look at the woods ahead then nodded. “Go. Now.”
They moved fast, staying low, using the trees for cover. Hamilton and Thunder stayed close to their handlers, their bodies low to the ground and ears flat.
Micah brought up the rear, his weapon still drawn and his eyes scanning behind them for any sign of movement.
Once they cleared that area of the woods, they paused.
They should be safe here—for now.
Micah holstered his weapon and reached for his radio. “Dispatch, this is Sheriff Sutherland. Reporting shots fired at the King property off Route 9. Two rounds, north-northwest direction. No injuries. I’m on scene—hold any units for now. I’ll call if I need backup.”
“Copy that, Sheriff.”
He clipped the radio back to his belt.
“That wasn’t a hunter.” Wyatt’s lips pulled into a tight line.
“No, it wasn’t,” Micah muttered.
Two shots that close in woods on private property.
Caleb stepped up beside him, his expression hard. “You think it was the Hendersons?”
“Their land is on the other side of those trees,” Micah said. “And like we talked about earlier, Travis has been escalating.”
Someone wasn’t just harassing the Kings anymore, he realized.
Someone was willing to use violence.
The silence in the house was unbearable.
Naomi sat frozen on the couch, Grace clutched against her chest and every muscle in her body tense as she strained to hear something—anything—from outside.
Good Boy continued to pace near the door, his nails clicking against the hardwood, his body rigid with alertness.
Her mom stood at the window, one hand gripping the curtain, the other pressed flat against the glass. “I still can’t see them.”
“Mom.” Naomi’s voice came out shaky. “Why don’t you call Caleb?”
“Good idea.” Her mom pulled the phone from her pocket with trembling hands. She tapped the screen and put it on speaker.
Seconds stretched by, and Naomi’s heart hammered so hard she felt it in her throat.
The phone rang once. Twice. Three times.
Her mom’s face went pale. “He’s not picking up.”
Naomi’s breath caught. “Try again.”
Her mom’s fingers moved faster this time as she hit Redial.
The phone rang again. Once. Twice.
Then a click.
“Mom?” Caleb’s voice came through, breathless but steady.
“Caleb!” Ruby’s voice broke. “Are you okay? We heard gunfire—”
“We’re fine. Everyone’s fine.” Though his voice was calm, there was tension underneath it.
Naomi closed her eyes, relief washing over her in waves. She leaned forward, her eyes fixed on the phone. “What happened?”
“Two shots came from the woods north of the fence line,” Caleb said. “We took cover. No one was hit.”
Her mom’s hand went to her chest. “Caleb—”
“We’re okay, Mom. I promise.”
“Where are you now?” Millie asked.
“Heading back to the house. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
Her mom’s voice shook. “Caleb, all of you have to be careful. Please. Just . . . just be careful.”
“We will.”
The line went dead.
Her mom lowered the phone slowly, her hand trembling.
For a long moment, none of them moved.
Then Millie let out a shaky breath. “They’re okay.”
The three women looked at each other, and the worry stretched taut between them.
No one had been hit.
But the gunfire hadn’t been random. Naomi knew that. They all knew that.
Someone had fired those shots.
And whoever it was, they were still out there.