Buried Truth. Dana Mentink

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      She’d begged and pleaded. Just let me go. I promise I’ll never drive drunk again.

      He’d looked at her with eyes full of tenderness as he’d arrested her anyway.

      The thought made her squirm and the truck seemed to slow to a snail’s pace.

      The sun set into a pool of fire as they drove back to Rock-vale, followed by the appearance of a sliver of moon in a shroud of clouds that hinted at a summer storm. He turned off the main road and eased the truck along a twisted gravel path that served as the driveway to her father’s house. Perched on ten acres of land, it would be his retirement getaway.

      If he ever can retire, she thought, feeling an uncomfortable squeezing in her gut. She’d cost him so much and he’d bailed her out so many times at his own expense. Sonny Fernandes would never admit it, but saving his daughter by paying for a treatment program and legal fees had wiped out any chance that he could enjoy his golden years anytime soon. She felt the stab of guilt again as she pictured him supervising a construction crew building a bridge somewhere in California.

      Soon, Heather. You’ll prove yourself again so you can pay him back. All she needed was a story that would lift her out of anonymity and, if she was patient, Dr. Egan might be just the source—if he would trust her enough to give her access to a lab story. Her editor would have to run it, even though it wasn’t her beat.

      She sighed as they drove past a pile of tangled branches. In the meantime, she would work on fixing up her father’s place. Not a glamorous job, but a work of love.

      Bill pulled to a stop and Heather grabbed at her bag. In her haste she upended the purse, spilling the contents onto the floor. With clumsy fingers she shoveled the things back in and practically ran for the porch, calling out as she went, “Thanks for the ride.”

      She let herself into the house with a surge of relief. She’d made it through the trip without saying something stupid—or worse, crying. It was over. The scrabble of paws on the floor announced Choo Choo, a graying Labrador mix. He lumbered up and presented himself for petting.

      “Hello, baby. Did you miss me?” She got him a small chunk of boiled chicken from the fridge, which wouldn’t be too hard on his old teeth, and kissed his head. “Mama needs a shower, Choo Choo. You wouldn’t believe the day I’ve had.”

      She did her best to wash away thoughts of Bill and her sorry excuse for a career. Wrapped in a light robe and relaxed for what seemed like the first time that day, she padded barefoot into the kitchen for a glass of iced tea, gazing out the window into the darkened landscape. Her father’s property and that of his neighbor Charlie Moon were not actually on reservation land, but their acres mingled with Eagle Rock reservation in a seamless expanse of plateaus and gorges.

      In the distant rocky canyon that divided her property from Moon’s, a light flicked on and off. She froze. Whoever was moving around had no business there, unless it was Charlie himself doing some night hiking.

      Not likely, as he had a bum foot and a small child to take care of. It was impossible to tell if the intruder was actually on her property or Charlie’s, but one thing she knew for sure—whoever it was didn’t belong there.

      She threw on some clothes, and grabbed her father’s rifle and a flashlight.

      Choo Choo looked hopefully up at her.

      “You need to stay here this time. I’ll be back soon,” she said, hurriedly pulling the door closed behind her.

      Making her way as quickly as she could, sticking to the cover of the massive pines that clung to the rocks on either side of the canyon, she pushed forward, keeping the trespasser’s bobbing flashlight in view. Several times she had to stop and catch her breath, waiting for the gleam of light to show again.

      Finally the light stopped and a softer, steadier glow took its place. A lantern. The intruder must have fixed on a spot to explore. She felt a sudden reckless anger surge through her. This place was entrusted to her, the only thing her father owned free and clear, and this person, whoever it was, was probably out looking for fossils to steal and sell on the black market. Or maybe it was some teens bent on finding a place to party. Didn’t matter. She was going to make sure they left and never came back.

      “Hey, down there,” she yelled. Her voice rang through the quiet. “You’re trespassing on private property. You need to get out of here right now.”

      The light was extinguished. She waited a moment to listen for the sounds of scuffling feet, but there were none. Flicking on her own flashlight, she beamed it down into the gorge.

      A shot rang out, whistling past her head. She jerked back behind the tree for cover and readied her own weapon, heart hammering in her chest. Another shot sizzled by. From a crouched position she aimed the rifle high. Hopefully a warning shot would be enough to show the intruder who he was dealing with and convince him to leave.

      She squeezed off a round. The report of the rifle deafened her. By the time she raised the weapon to fire again, a dark shape rose from behind the clump of nearby rocks and hurtled on top of her. The gun flew from her grasp and sailed through the air. She rolled and tumbled, the attacker still holding on to her. Her hair fell across her face and she couldn’t get a look at the man, but his arms were like iron straps as they held her fast. She felt a calloused palm over her mouth before she could suck in enough breath to scream.

      “Quiet,” Bill Cloudman grunted in her face, “or whoever that is will kill us both.”

      Bill kept his hand over her mouth until he was sure she wouldn’t scream and give their location away. When he eased his hand aside, he whispered a warning. “No more noise.”

      He got to his feet, staying low behind a massive granite boulder, and tried to listen for sounds of movement. Heather scrambled up next to him.

      “What are you doing here?” she whispered.

      He pulled something from his pocket and handed it to her. “You dropped your phone in the truck. Came back to return it and I saw somebody on your property. Thought I’d check it out, until Annie Oakley came out with guns drawn and the shooting match started.”

      “Hilarious, Bill.” She pressed closer to his back. “Who’s out there?”

      He ignored the prickle on his neck where she spoke into his ear, the clean scent of shampoo that clung to her hair. “Not sure.” If it was Oscar, then it was time to settle things, and he didn’t want her anywhere close by. “I am going to go down there and see if whoever it was is holed up. Go back to the house and lock the door.”

      She was about to answer when something streaked by their legs. “Choo Choo. Come back here,” she hissed. “I must not have closed the door all the way. I’ve got to get my dog.” She moved forward and he grabbed at her arm.

      “Go inside.”

      “I’m not going to let him get hurt.”

      “It’s just a dog.”

      She shook him off. “Like Tank is just a dog?”

      He bit back a comment, wondering how she’d managed to best him already. She was smart, more than smart, a fact he’d known the moment she’d arrived in town the first time. He felt the warring desires to draw close and keep her at arm’s СКАЧАТЬ