Christmas Countdown. Jan Hambright

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СКАЧАТЬ of the hallway and burst out into the living room, almost colliding with her dad in his wheelchair.

      “I called … the sheriff. Who’s outside?”

      “I don’t know who’s shooting, but Mac’s still out there.”

      Worry locked her in place as she knelt next to her father, straining to hear what was going on.

      No more shots. Silence. Blessed silence. Worry ground over her nerves as she considered the implications.

      Either the shooter had been hit, or—

      Emma crawled into the dining room, where a window faced the west side of the house.

      Her hand shook as she pulled open the drape an inch and stared out on the side yard.

      Dusk was settling over Firehill, but in the fading light she saw Mac dart across the driveway leading back to the barn and take cover next to the trunk of an oak tree on the edge of the brushy thicket.

      A measure of relief flooded her insides. He hadn’t been shot tonight. But he had been shot at some point. Realization surrounded her thoughts as she pulled back from the window and crumpled on the floor to wait for help to arrive.

      The horrible scar on Mac’s beautiful face was a gunshot wound. He said he’d worked for the Secret Service. The scenario fit. He’d dived to protect another human being with his own body and had taken a bullet for that person, just like he would have taken a bullet for her ten minutes ago.

      She swallowed and closed her eyes, trying to imagine the pain he had endured, but it was inconceivable.

      In the distance she could hear the shrill wail of a siren. Emma opened her eyes and stood up, seeing the strobe of the police car’s lights reflecting against the drapes.

      “Emma.” Her father called.

      “Yes.” She moved into the living room. Concern brushed her nerves, as she stared at her dad, at the stricken look on his face and the piece of paper in his hand.

      “Give this to … Wilkes. It’s why … I called him.”

      Reaching out she took the paper and stared at the string of text that had been cut from a secondary source and strung together word by word to form a sentence.

      Don’t race your horse or next time I won’t miss.

      “Where did you get this, Dad?”

      “It came in the mail … this afternoon. Sam brought it in just before she left … for the day. I opened it … twenty minutes ago, and called the sheriff. It’s a threat against … Navigator.”

      There was fear in his eyes as he worked to speak.

      She put her arm across his shoulders. “Don’t worry, Mac and I won’t let anything happen to him.” Her reassurance seemed to calm him. She carried the note into the kitchen, where she pulled a large Ziploc bag out of a drawer and slipped the note inside before going back into the living room.

      “Where’s the envelope it came in?”

      “On the desk. No … return address.”

      Moving to the rolltop, she found the plain white envelope next to the stack of mail and added it to the bag. “I’ll take this to the sheriff.”

      Her dad nodded and she headed down the hall, flipped on the porch light and exited the back door, coming face-to-face with Mac and Sheriff Wilkes at the west corner of the house. They were deep in conversation.

      Mac looked up as she approached. “Emma. Are you and your dad okay?”

      “Yes.” She turned to face Wilkes. “Here’s the note we got in the mail this afternoon. My dad called you the moment he opened it.”

      Wilkes reached out and took the plastic bag, holding it up where the porch light illuminated the crude message.

      “It’s the second one today. Brad Nelson over at Cramer Stables received one this morning.”

      “Derby prospect?” Mac asked, feeling a measure of concern enter his bloodstream.

      “Yes. He plans to nominate his horse Whiskey Fever for a spot in the Kentucky Derby.”

      “Were there any potshots taken at him?” Mac asked, knowing that if one of the gunshots had been a foot lower it would have hit Emma.

      “No. But with any luck you scared him off and he won’t try this over at Cramer Stables. Did you by any chance get a look at him?”

      “No. He took off the moment I put a slug in the tree. But Brad Nelson would be wise to get some security in place around his horse, just in case he tries this over there. Whoever is behind these attacks is serious. It’s only a matter of time before someone is seriously hurt, or worse.”

      “I agree,” Wilkes said. “And a heads-up. Some of the surrounding farms have banded together and put up a reward for the capture of whoever is behind the threats and attacks against their horses.”

      “Is that right?”

      “Twenty-five thousand dollars and climbing. I’ll file my report and get this letter to the lab tonight after the forensics team takes a look at the scene for slugs or shell casings. I’ll drop by in the morning if they find anything.”

      “Thanks, Sheriff. I’ve got to go check on the colt.”

      Mac turned for the barn, anxious to make sure the horse was okay. One thing the evening’s events had made clear—Navigator wasn’t the only animal being targeted in the Bluegrass. But how did last night’s intruders and Mac’s subsequent stint trapped in a sleeping bag play into any of this?

      The shuffle of footsteps behind him slowed his pace, and he was glad when Emma fell in next to him.

      “Hey, where are you going? We can’t let a couple of stray bullets dissuade us. We’ve got Christmas lights to hang.”

      He chuckled, pulled up short and turned to look at her in the last glimmer of Kentucky twilight.

      “Do I look like the Grinch, Emma?”

      “Um … maybe a little around the eyes.”

      “I want to make sure the colt’s settled for the night, then I’ll help you finish the lights.”

      “Okay.”

      Mac headed for the barn again with Emma keeping stride next to him. Glancing across the paddock, he spotted several men standing in the doorway of the stud barn, looking into the deepening darkness.

      “Do Victor Dago and his crew ever work their horses?”

      “Yes. Every other day they get the practice track in the morning and I take the afternoon slot.”

      He mulled her answer as they approached the barn entrance and the motion light clicked on. They entered the stable together and Emma flipped on the overhead lights.

      Mack СКАЧАТЬ