On Deadly Ground. Lauren Nichols

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СКАЧАТЬ did the same. “Nice plates,” Jake called.

      The kid with the bushel basket-size mass of brown curls smiled. “Thanks. Just got ‘em.”

      Jake smiled back. “You weren’t doing anything you shouldn’t out there tonight, were you? Like spotting the fields looking for newborns?”

      Miller glanced at the cute blonde beside him. “Nah, I wasn’t grocery shopping. Even if I wanted to—which I don’t—she wouldn’t let me. She likes the babies.”

      “Good. Now you should get her home before her dad comes looking for you.”

      “Don’t have to,” the kid returned in a cheeky voice. “She has her own place. Her dad doesn’t know she’s still out.”

      “Yeah? He’ll know if I tell him.”

      Laughing again, the kid waved, raised his window and drove off.

      Nice kid, Jake decided. But if he caught him hunting from his car, he’d still fine his scrawny butt.

      Slowly, barely crawling along, the vehicle left one of the rutted logging roads lacing the woods, only dim parking lights illuminating the way. A large cloth bag and shovel lay in the backseat. Nervous thoughts zinged through a mind too rattled to think clearly. How much had Rachel Patterson seen? Was the hood and fog enough to obscure her view? What to do? What to do? A small, jittery voice whispered that the only solution was to leave Charity. A louder one shouted, No! Not when things are finally working out.

      Unquestionably, the second voice was right. The idea of leaving Charity was nearly as disturbing as the thought of a prison term. He commanded himself to think. He had to delay that construction project or risk losing everything. Sugar in the diesel tanks wouldn’t work … and the tires were too thick to slash and too easily replaced. If only he’d heard about Rachel’s plans sooner than yesterday.

      Gripping the steering wheel, he exhaled a blast of frustration. With construction starting tomorrow, his only recourse was to go back and try again.

      Or was it?

      A dark thought rose, then twisted and turned and became increasingly darker. He began to tremble, felt sweat bead his upper lip. No! No, that was a last resort.

      He had to go back.

      TWO

      Rachel jerked awake the next morning at seven-fifteen to sunshine and the growl of construction equipment flowing through the screen in her bedroom window. She leaped out of bed and dressed. The machines were already leveling the ground, so that meant there’d been no damage to the equipment, thank the Lord. But she’d still wanted to greet Tim when he arrived, and explain what had happened last night.

      She’d just shut off her coffeemaker when someone rapped at her patio door. Crossing the kitchen, she opened her hunter green vertical blinds to see Jake standing on her deck. Feeling a burst of nerves that seemed to double her heart rate, she slid open the glass pane and screen.

      “Good morning,” she said. “I would have thought you’d be sleeping in today after being up half the night.”

      He stepped into the kitchen. “Nope. My mom phoned a while ago and woke me up.” He paused. “As for getting more sack time—I could say the same about you. You probably got less sleep than I did.” This morning he wore jeans, a dark green T-shirt that hugged his broad shoulders and, for a change, not boots but running shoes. His dark hair was still damp from his shower, and the clean smell of citrus clung to his skin.

      His voice softened. “I just came by to see if you were all right. I figured you’d be up because the guys were starting work at seven.”

      That warm feeling in her chest blossomed but soon gave way to jitters. Maybe because this was the first time he’d been inside her home and he seemed to fill the room. Or maybe because she was so aware of him filling it. He towered over her, seven or eight inches taller than her five-feet-six. She slid the screen shut. “I’m good. As I said last night, I’m a lot tougher than I look.”

      “But you still had trouble getting back to sleep,” he guessed.

      “Sad but true.” He knew about her sleepless nights. They’d talked about them. “But I dug out my iPod, and listened to a new CD I’d downloaded. That helped.”

      “Casey Kasem’s top forty?”

      She smiled. “No, moody oboes and ocean waves. Top forty for insomniacs.” When his rugged features lined in sympathy, she felt another rash of nerves. She gestured toward her round oak table and chairs. “Have a seat. Can I get you a cup of coffee?”

      “Yeah, thanks, if you’re having some. But I can’t stay long. I have to get back and dress for work. I’m giving a talk to the kids at the elementary school this morning.”

      “About?”

      “Respecting wildlife, the necessity for hunter safety courses … that kind of thing. What’s on your agenda today?”

      “After I deliver coffee to Tim and his crew, I’m headed to town. I have a hundred things to do before I go to the nursing home.” During the off-season, she occasionally helped out in the activities room. It gave her something to do, and made her feel good at the same time. That would change soon with the campground opening.

      “Since we’re both on the clock, do you care if we take our coffee outside? At the risk of looking like a stereotype, I wouldn’t mind walking over to see how the ground moving’s going.”

      Good idea. She’d be more comfortable out there. “Sure. Just give me a second, then we can go.” She pulled brown stoneware mugs and a stainless steel thermos from her oak cabinets. “Actually, I should have seen Tim before this. My insomniac’s top forty worked so well that I overslept this morning, and didn’t have a chance to tell him about my late-night visi—”

      Heavy footsteps on the deck stairs stopped her in mid-sentence, and a second later, a beefy man in a plaid flannel shirt and jeans appeared at the screen door. Beneath his salt-and-pepper crew cut, Tim Decker’s deep-set gray eyes couldn’t have been colder.

      Rachel strode to the door—opened the screen. “Tim?”

      “Sorry,” he said. “We’re shut down, and I don’t know for how long.”

      Her pulse quickened as she realized that those engine sounds had ceased. “What happened?”

      “Someone punched holes in my dozer’s oil and transmission filters. If we’d noticed, we could’ve replaced them. But we fired up the dozer, put it to work and ran every last drop of fluid out of it. Froze it up solid.”

      Rachel felt sick. If she’d gotten up earlier, she could have told him what had happened last night, and he would have checked his equipment. This wouldn’t have happened.

      Jake’s gaze hardened. “Unbelievable.”

      “Yeah,” Decker said. “The freak tried to puncture the fuel tank on my truck, too, but couldn’t get through the thick wall.” His gaze shifted to Rachel again. “Okay if I use your land line? I gotta report this, and there’s no cell service this far from town.”

      “Of СКАЧАТЬ