Chapter Sixteen
Judson had just made it to the stairs when the gunshot blasted outside. And the sound punched him like a meaty fist.
Exactly where outside the sound had come from, he didn’t know, but he didn’t think the shot had hit the house. Still, he was ready to rush back to Addie’s bedroom when his phone vibrated with a text.
From Addie.
Hell. His first thought was that Etta Jean, the babies or she had been hurt, and he had to tamp down the panic racing through him. He forced himself to look at his phone screen.
Are you all right? Addie had texted. We’re okay here and staying down in the bathroom.
The relief shoved away the bulk of the panic, and he was able to reply with a thumbs-up emoji.
A quick, way-too-light response that didn’t convey the emotions he was feeling, but it got the job done.
He let her know he hadn’t been hurt, and now he knew that Addie, Etta Jean and the babies were safe.
Hopefully, they would stay that way if he managed to pinpoint the shooter and stop the attack from escalating. That reminder got him moving even faster up the stairs to the second floor.
Another shot came.
His muscles turned to iron, and his heartbeat began to thunder in his ears. But again, this bullet hadn’t seemed to hit the house, and it made him wonder if the gunman was aiming for Calvin or Rory. If so, he didn’t want to text and possibly distract them when they were trying to stay alive.
Instead, Judson focused on getting to the center of the upstairs hallway and to the cord for the attic door. He gave it a hard yank, and the ladder unfolded as the door dropped open.
As he’d done countless times as a kid, he scrambled up the rungs, stepping into a massive space that was filled with an equally massive amount of stuff.
Furniture that’d been able to fit through the door.
Boxes, dozens and dozens of them, filled with all sorts of decorations for any occasion—birthdays, Christmas, Easter, swimming parties, homecoming and bon voyages.
Judson also knew there were thousands of photographs and old magazines, and he’d spent some time looking through those as a kid. The attic had become his sanctuary of sorts, and he was familiar with every inch of it.
Including the ceiling door that led to the roof.
Moving fast, that was where he headed.
It wasn’t a standard feature in homes in this area, but he recalled Mellie saying that it had once led to a cupola.
Apparently, storms had damaged the structure a century or more ago and it had been turned into a sort of widow’s walk, a flat portion of the roof surrounded by a low rail.
Over the years, the stairs had fallen down, but the ceiling door appeared to still be intact.
Judson was thankful for that since he needed to try to pinpoint the location, and the identity, of this sick SOB who kept trying to kill them.
He heard another shot outside, but this one sounded as if it’d come from a different firearm. Or maybe just a different distance. He was hoping that meant Rory or Calvin had been able to return fire.
Pocketing the binoculars, Judson dragged a chair beneath the ceiling door, and, holstering his gun, he opened the door and used both hands and a good portion of his strength to hoist himself up.
He immediately felt the chilly early-morning air close in around him, but he kept moving until he was on the widow’s walk.
The moment he was through the ceiling door and on the walk, he drew his gun again.
The two-foot-tall railing around the widow’s walk wouldn’t give him much cover or protection, but it didn’t obstruct his view, either. He could see nearly the entire ranch from this vantage point. Better yet, he could see the barn across the road.
Holding his gun in his right hand and the binoculars in his left, he zoomed in on the hayloft again.
And he cursed.
Because he could now see that it wasn’t a person at all but rather what appeared to be a black jacket and pants pressed against some bales of hay. There was a rifle propped up beside it, and someone had positioned a flashlight so that it spotlighted the items.
Damn it.
There was only one reason for that setup—to make them focus on the very spot where the killer wasn’t.
So, where was the SOB?
With his heart drumming faster now, Judson scanned the yard, the road and the pasture. He saw Calvin behind a sprawling oak. He had his gun, but he wasn’t shooting. However, he had his attention pinned to the area across the driveway and in front of the house.
Judson swiveled in that direction, and he spotted Rory. His fellow deputy was crouched down by one of the cruisers, but he wasn’t focusing where Calvin was. He seemed to be looking in the direction of one of the ditches.
Another shot rang out, blasting through the silence.
And because Judson could see both Rory and Calvin, he knew the shot hadn’t come from one of them.
It had come from the gunman, and Judson thought he or she was in those trees across from the driveway.
So, he turned there to keep watch, but he was well aware there could be two attackers.
One in each of the locations that had gotten Calvin’s and Rory’s attention.
If so, one of the attackers could be trying to get into the house while the other tried to pin Calvin and Rory down with gunfire. It was a plan that could work, and that’s why Judson knew he had to give Bennie a heads-up.
Listen and keep watch for a possible break-in, Judson settled for saying.
Will do, Bennie immediately texted back. You have a visual on the shooter?
No visual, he replied. Just an estimation based on that last shot. Also, there might be two of them.
He imagined Bennie silently cursing when he read that. Cursing but staying vigilant. I’m keeping watch, Bennie assured him.
Judson was about to text Addie to give her the same warning and a reminder to stay put in the bathroom, but his phone vibrated with a text. Not from Bennie but rather Rory.
I think the SOB used the ditch to get closer to the house, Rory had messaged. I caught a glimpse of him, but I don’t think he’s in the ditch now.
He? Judson questioned.
Or maybe she, Rory was quick to reply. I only got a glimpse of someone wearing all black. I shot at them, but I think I missed.
Too bad about that. Judson wished that Rory had blown this snake to smithereens.
Watch the house, Judson advised Rory.
And he did the same. Watched and waited. Listened.
The breeze didn’t exactly cooperate with his attempts to listen.
It came in short bursts, stirring the trees and rattling the shrubs and the leaves on the live oaks.
Those little noises were maybe masking other sounds that he should be hearing.
Like movement out of the ditch or that area across from the house.
What Judson wasn’t hearing was any gunfire, but he wasn’t exactly thankful for that at the moment.
Of course, he didn’t want any bullets going into the house, but if the SOB fired just one more single shot, that would help Judson pinpoint the location.
Then he could return fire. Apparently, though, like the wind, the shooter wasn’t going to cooperate.
Finally, after what seemed like a couple of lifetimes, Judson caught some movement from the corner of his eye. Not exactly in the area that Rory and he were watching. But rather to the right. At first he thought it could be the shrubs shaking from another gust of wind.
But no.
He spotted the shadowy figure as it darted out of sight. Judson got just a glimpse, and he couldn’t tell if it was a man or woman. So, he continued to watch, taking aim in that direction. Readying himself in case he got the chance to put a stop to this.
More seconds passed, dragging by, and finally Judson caught another burst of movement. Someone wearing all black. Someone threading their way through the underbrush.
And toward the house.
He cursed himself for not having already hurried back downstairs so he could be waiting for this clown when he made it to the door.
But the person didn’t run toward the door.
Judson shifted his gun, trying to lock his aim on the person, but he or she wasn’t staying still. Nor were they moving in a straight line. They were weaving through the trees and bushes, using them as cover.
He pivoted again when he caught another glimpse. But the person darted behind one of the vehicles parked out front.
Judson moved, too, scrambling to edge of the widow’s walk so he’d be in a better position to shoot. He was still taking aim when there was more movement. The shadowy figure raced to a tree.
Then another.
Judson fired. And missed. The bullet slammed into the tree just as the SOB raced out from the other side. Straight toward the side of the house.
His heart went straight to his knees when Judson heard the glass shattering. And he knew exactly what that meant. The killer had broken the window and was getting inside.
Hell.
Judson had to get to Addie and the babies now.
“OH, GOD,” ADDIE MUTTERED.
She had no trouble hearing the sound of shattering glass and thought it’d come from a window on the side of the house. What she hadn’t heard was a gunshot, which meant the glass hadn’t broken from gunfire.
But rather from someone using different means to gain access to the house.
The killer, no doubt.
He or she was breaking into the house and would be coming for her. That gave Addie a slam of emotions, with fear being right there at the top of the heap. The babies were right here, and a bullet aimed at her—or anyone else, for that matter—could miss and hurt them.
She had to stop that from happening.
The jolt of adrenaline would help with that. So would Mellie’s gun. She wasn’t a markswoman by any stretch of the imagination, but she could use the gun and go after the killer before he or she made it to this part of the house.
“Wait here,” Addie told Etta Jean. “Stay as low in the tub as you can with the twins. That’s your best protection.”