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Night Prey
Sharon Dunn


Stay off the King Ranch.Jenna Murphy wants to ignore the anonymous, puzzling note. How could she leave the work she loves at the ranch's Birds of Prey Rescue Center? But when someone attacks the birds under her care, she starts to worry. And when Jenna is attacked, she knows she's in over her head. She never expected Keith Roland to come to her rescue. They were childhood friends before he fell in with the wrong crowd. Now the former troublemaker is a soldier, and a changed man. Yet has he really reformed? Can Jenna truly trust him with her safety–and her heart?









“I don’t suppose you know anything about people shooting at eagles around here?” Jenna asked.


Keith shook his head. “Grandpa has a rifle, not a shotgun.” He narrowed his eyes. “He wouldn’t shoot at a bird anyway.”

He seemed protective of his grandfather. She hadn’t intended to accuse. “That means you have trespassers.”

“Trespassers?” He rubbed the five-o’clock shadow on his jaw. “You mean other than you, Jenna Murphy?” His tone lightened; all the suspicion she had heard earlier was gone.

Jenna’s breath caught. Something in the way he had said her name made her think he did remember her more than he was letting on. Was her perception of their friendship so much different than his? True, he had been two years older than she was, but she had felt such a special bond with him until that disastrous summer when he’d changed so much.

What had happened between then and now?




SHARON DUNN


has always loved writing, but didn’t decide to write for publication until she was expecting her first baby. Pregnancy makes you do crazy things. Three kids, many articles and two mystery series later, she still hasn’t found her sanity. Her books have won awards, including a Book of the Year award from American Christian Fiction Writers. She was also a finalist for an RT Book Reviews Inspirational Book of the Year award.

Sharon has performed in theater and church productions, gotten degrees in film production and history and worked for many years as a college tutor and instructor. Despite the fact that her résumé looks as if she couldn’t decide what she wanted to be when she grew up, all the education and experience have played a part in helping her write good stories.

When she isn’t writing or taking her kids to activities, she reads, plays board games and contemplates organizing her closet. In addition to her three kids, Sharon lives with her husband of twenty-two years, three cats and lots of dust bunnies. You can reach Sharon through her website at www.sharondunnbooks.com.




Night Prey

Sharon Dunn





www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge;

His faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.

—Psalms 91:4


A special thanks to Becky and Kyla for showing me around the local raptor rescue center and to all the dedicated people across the country who rescue and care for these awe-inspiring birds.




CONTENTS


CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

EPILOGUE

LETTER TO READER

QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION




ONE


“What are you doing on this land?” The male voice pelted Jenna Murphy’s back like a hard rain.

She dropped the empty pet carrier and raised her hands slowly, not wanting to spook whoever had called out to her. Most of the locals knew her, but a lot of strangers were moving in and buying ranches. If she had stumbled on an overzealous landowner with a rifle, the situation could get sticky. Her skills lay in soothing birds, not people.

“Please, I can explain.” She struggled to get the words out, already winded from running up and down hills.

“Explain away.” The silky smooth quality of the voice behind her did nothing to diminish the threatening tone.

Chances were, she was trespassing. When she got focused on something, she tended to space out everything else. Whose land had she wandered onto anyway? She’d been too busy trying to catch an injured hawk to notice if she had crossed boundaries. She had started her chase out on the King Ranch.

A glance at the mountain range to her left helped her orient herself. She was still on Norman and Etta King’s ranch. Both of them were getting up in age. Maybe they had hired some help. The man’s voice had a distant familiarity to it. If he wasn’t barking orders, she might be able to place it.

His voice softened. “I didn’t mean to scare you. You can put your hands down and turn around.”

Jenna pivoted. She studied the man in front of her. He didn’t have a gun. Instead he held a tool that was used for digging fence posts. His forehead glistened and the front of his shirt was stained with sweat. So the Kings had hired help…or had they? She looked closer.

“Keith? Is that you?”

Twelve years of her life fell away. He had changed quite a bit, but there was enough of the old Keith Roland for her to know this was her childhood friend and the Kings’ grandson. The gray eyes that appeared blue in intense light were the same. “It’s Jenna Murphy,” she added when he didn’t respond. “We used to play together when you spent summers with your grandparents, remember?”

The man standing in front of her bore little resemblance to the boy she had rafted the river with. Together, they had built a tree house that attracted a neighborhood of kids, summer after summer. His features were the same, though his muscular frame was a sharp contrast from the skinny kid she remembered. Keith’s wavy brown hair now fell past his ears. The long-sleeved shirt he wore was a little out of place considering what a hot summer day it was. The almond shaped eyes still held the same gentleness, but something about this man seemed…haunted.

Keith blinked as if she had stunned him. He shook his head and furrowed his brow. “Sorry.”

Did he really not remember her? Jenna’s spirits sank. Funny, he had been such an important part of her childhood, the highlight of her summer. Yet, she hadn’t even been a blip on his radar. Maybe she had just been the scraggly little tagalong kid to him. Somehow, she couldn’t believe that. She touched her palm to her chest. “You almost gave me a heart attack when you shouted at me like that.”

“I didn’t mean to frighten you.” His voice held a warm quality. “We had a trespasser yesterday, too. I was concerned Gramps’s place had become Grand Central Station.”

Jenna laughed. Now she understood why he had been so quick to confront her. “That was probably me you saw. I’m the director of the Birds of Prey Rescue Center up Hillcrest Road.” When she got a call on an injured bird, there usually wasn’t time to inform landowners. All the locals knew if they saw her on their land, she was probably just taking care of a bird. She always dressed in bright colors, so she could be spotted from a distance.

“So that was you I saw tromping around yesterday when I was mending fence. Do you make a habit of trespassing?”

“The bird I rescued yesterday was an eagle with buckshot in her wing.” Finding that bird flapping its flightless wings had broken her heart. Hopefully, she had gotten to the bird quickly enough to prevent infection but only time would tell. And now, she had an injured hawk to catch in the same area. It was unsettling to have two injuries occur so quickly. If someone was hurting her birds on purpose, she would get to the bottom of it. “I don’t suppose you know anything about people using shotguns on eagles around here?”

Keith shook his head. “Gramps has a rifle, not a shotgun.” He narrowed his eyes. “He wouldn’t shoot at a bird anyway.”

He seemed protective of his grandfather. She hadn’t intended to accuse. “That means you have trespassers.”

“Trespassers?” He rubbed the five o’clock shadow on his jaw. “You mean other than you, Jenna Murphy?” His tone lightened; all the suspicion she had heard earlier was gone.

Jenna’s breath caught. Something in the way he had said her name made her think he remembered her more than he was letting on. But why had he tried to hide it? Was her perception of their friendship so much different than his? True, he had been two years older than her, but she had felt such a special bond with him until that disastrous summer when he had changed so much.

The last time she had seen Keith, he had been seventeen and deeply troubled. That was the summer his visit had ended abruptly with an arrest for drunk driving. Etta and Norman King had been heartbroken about sending their grandson away, but the arrest had been the final straw. Keith’s drinking had led to wrecking farm equipment, nearly running over his grandfather and stealing from his grandparents. They had had no choice. His wildness had put everyone at risk. Jenna shook off the memories and returned her focus to the task at hand.

“That eagle went down on your grandfather’s property. Any idea who might be doing something like that?”

He drew his eyebrows together and his voice intensified. “No, but I will find out who it is. It’s not right to do that to my grandparents.”

Jenna turned her attention to the pet carrier she had dropped. “If you don’t mind, I have an injured hawk to catch.” She scanned the shorter trees and the undergrowth. No sign of the bird. The wounded hawk couldn’t get airborne, but had managed to bounce for miles as she’d tried to chase him down. A flightless bird didn’t stand much of a chance of survival. She had to find him before nightfall.

Jenna picked up the carrier and stalked a few feet away. She turned back around. “Good running into you, Keith Roland. I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

He lifted a chin in acknowledgment of her comment but offered nothing in return, no explanation of what he was doing in town or how long he planned to stay. He must have mended his relationship with his grandparents, but when? What had he been doing for the last twelve years?

Shortly after the summer Keith left, Etta King had run into Jenna in town. She’d shown Jenna a picture of a clean-cut soldier, Keith. Etta had expressed hope that enlistment in the marines would “straighten that boy out.” Jenna didn’t run into Etta very much, and talking about Keith was painful for both of them. She had no idea if the military had been good for Keith or not.

She strode a few feet up the hill.

“Do you need some help finding that bird, Jenna Murphy?” Keith shouted after her.

For someone who didn’t remember her, he seemed to like saying her name.

A gust of wind wafted down the mountain, causing the limbs of the evergreens to creak. The breeze caught Jenna’s long brown hair and plastered it against her face. She shoved the wayward strands behind her ears. “That would be nice.”

After staking the post hole digger in the ground, he walked toward her with large even strides.

The wind settled. Something crashed in the forest, breaking branches. The injured hawk? No, it sounded like something bigger. Heavier. More dangerous. Jenna caught a flash of movement up the hill.

A noise she had never heard before shattered the silence. A sort of explosive snap pounded against her eardrums.

Keith’s eyes grew wide. He leaped toward her. “Get down.” He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her to the ground.

Her palms hit the hard earth; vibrations of pain surged up her arms. “What is going on?” She scrambled to get to her feet; he yanked her again down to the ground.

His arm went across her back like an iron bar. “We’re being shot at. Stay down.”

“Shot at?” Jenna shook her head in disbelief. Why would someone be shooting at them? Could it have anything to do with the injured birds?

Still on his stomach, Keith scanned the landscape around them.

A second popping explosion stirred up a poof of dirt five feet in front of them, confirming Keith’s words.

Jenna’s heart revved into overdrive. Her mouth went dry. “I’ve never been shot at before.”

He put his lips close to her ear. “I have. I know what to do. Those rocks up there will give us some cover.” He rose to a crouch, pulling her with him by grabbing the back of her shirt. “Stay low.”

Jenna’s mind reeled; she fought for a deep breath. What was happening? Why would anyone want to shoot at them?

Keith wrapped his arm around her waist. “You have to keep moving.”

The strength of his voice in her ear freed her from the paralysis of panic. At least somebody knew how to respond.

Her heart pounded wildly. Keith dragged her up the mountain.

Another shot shattered the air around her. She screamed. She stumbled.

Keith pulled her to her feet. “Stay with me, Jenna.”

She gasped for breath as he nearly carried her the remaining feet to the outcropping of boulders. Keith guided her in between two large rocks. The massive rocks allowed them both to crouch unseen and safe for the moment. Jenna pressed her back against the hard surface while Keith faced her.

Her pulse drummed in her ears. A tingling chill spread over her skin. She placed a hand on her somersaulting stomach. She could have died.

He touched a warm hand to her cheek. “You all right?”

Every muscle in her body trembled. “No. I’m definitely not all right. Maybe you get shot at all the time, but I don’t.”

“Jenna, look at me and take a breath.” He clamped his hands on her shoulders.

She shook her head, unable to focus. Her thoughts moved in a hundred directions at once.

His palms pressed against her cheeks forcing her to look at him. “You’re safe here. You are out of the line of fire. Do you understand?”

The warmth of his touch and the steadiness of his gaze calmed her. She stared into the deep gray of his eyes. She nodded. Not only did he have experience with being shot at, obviously he had dealt with someone falling apart, too. As he had said, he knew what to do.

The forest fell silent. Keith scooted away from her and scanned the sky above them.

“Why…why would someone be shooting at us?” Her throat was parched. An intense craving for a cup of cool water overwhelmed her.

“I don’t know, but they didn’t do a very good job of it. Either they are really bad shots or they weren’t aiming to kill. Maybe they are trying to scare us away.” He leaned forward to see beyond the protection of the rocks.

“Be careful.” She grabbed his arm, feeling the hardness of muscle beneath fabric.

“I don’t see anything out there.” He settled back, pulling his knees up to his chest. “We’ll wait a while.”

Their feet intertwined in the small space. Pebbles pricked the skin on Jenna’s hand as she rested her palm on the ground.

“I wonder what the trespassers are doing on Gramps’s land.”

“You mean besides shooting at us…and shooting at eagles and maybe hawks, as well?” A shudder ran through her body. She pressed her feet harder into the ground in an effort to get beyond the trauma of what had happened. They would have to report this to the sheriff when they got out of here. If they got out of here.

Minutes ticked by. Her heart rate returned to normal. Searching for something to take her mind off the gunshots, she studied the man in front of her, looking for signs of the boy who had been her summertime friend. The scar over his left eyebrow was new. She wondered what other scars he carried. Had they made him want to forget his past? Maybe for him the pain of what had happened when he was seventeen overshadowed any of the positive memories. She had chosen to remember the good things about those summers.

“So where did you learn how to dodge bullets like that?”

Keith shifted his feet and looked away from her. “It’s the second lesson they teach you in the marines.”

“What is the first?”

“How to shoot them.”

The vagueness of his answer and the icy tone indicated that he didn’t want her probing. She stared down the hillside where she had left the cage intended for the hawk. With any luck, the bird hadn’t gotten too far away.

Keith combed his fingers through his hair. “You think the people that just shot at us shot at your eagle?”

Jenna shrugged. “One eagle doesn’t mean there is a pattern. I don’t know what is going on with this hawk.” She sucked in a breath as concern about the eagle ate at her stomach. Her vet friend had helped her dig out the buckshot. The female eagle, who she had named Greta, was on antibiotics. Hopefully, she would make it. But at least she was getting treatment. The hawk was still there on its own.

He rubbed at a spot of dirt on his worn jeans. “You take care of birds?”

“Just raptors, birds of prey. We rehab them and release them back into their habitat. I landed the job after I finished my degree in wildlife management.”

He studied her for a moment. The corners of his mouth turned up. “You always did attract wild things.”

Warmth pooled around her heart. “So you do remember me?”

“I remember you liked wild things. You were the only girl in town who thought feral cats made good pets.”

Jenna lifted her chin. “All they need is love and for their food to be in the same place every day.”

Keith laughed. A familiar twinkle returned to his eyes.

A connection sparked between them, and she leaned closer. “Is it all coming back now?” she teased.

The change in mood was short-lived. A veil descended over his eyes, and he pulled away from her. “You look different, that’s all.”

“People grow up. They change.” How much had he changed over the years? Was he still battling the same demons that had driven him to drink at seventeen?

“Been quiet for a while. Maybe it’s safe for us to head back down the mountain, huh?” He leaned out, glancing from side to side.

Her heartbeat sped up as fear returned at the thought of leaving their safe haven. Her stomach clenched as she wrestled with her choice. Part of her just wanted to leave, but she knew a flightless bird didn’t stand a chance. He would starve or be eaten if she didn’t catch him. If only Keith would stay with her. It wouldn’t be so frightening if she wasn’t alone.

A shrill cry pierced the forest.

“The hawk,” she whispered.

Keith pushed himself to his feet. He studied her for a moment. “So how hard is it to catch a wild bird?”

Relief spread through her. He had all but read her mind. “Not hard at all if I have help,” she gushed. Shielding herself behind the boulder, she eased to her feet. “But we need to catch him soon. He might be able to survive on bugs for a while but some creature is bound to decide he looks like a delicious main course before nightfall.”

“I can’t leave you out here considering what just happened.” He rolled his eyes theatrically. “So I guess that means I have to help you.”

She scooted toward him and smiled. “I guess so.”



Keith stared at the petite, slim woman standing in front of him, her dimple showing as she smiled. One thing for sure hadn’t changed about Jenna Murphy. She was as cheerfully determined as ever when it came to rescuing wild animals. “We need to be cautious.”

Anxiety flashed over her features, but then she squared her shoulders as if summoning courage. “I know. Let’s go get the cage. With two of us, he shouldn’t take any time at all. We can surround him.”

Keith squinted, studying the mountain and forest. The shots had come from uphill. He suspected a long range rifle had been used. The knowledge that the shooter was far away didn’t make him any less vigilant.

A slight breeze bent the boughs of the pines. He didn’t detect any movement that might be human. “Okay, but be ready to drop to the ground if you hear anything.” He could handle being shot at, but the thought of anything happening to Jenna didn’t sit well with him.

Jenna ran down the hill and picked up the cage. Keith trailed behind her, assessing the landscape for any movement or sound that was out of place. He stayed close, so if he had to, he could pull her to the ground quickly. Her reflexes weren’t as fine-tuned as his, which meant he’d have to be doubly vigilant to protect her. And he would protect her.

Of course, he remembered her. Over the years, she had come to mind more than once, but he had always pushed those memories down to some hidden place, not wanting to visit the bittersweet emotions that came with remembering.

Seeing her again had shocked him. Jenna was a bright girl who could have done anything with her life. He had always assumed she would move away from the small town of Hope Creek. He never thought he would see her again. Memories threatened to swamp him now, but he refused to let himself get distracted.

Keith remained tuned in to the forest, watching the trees and listening.

Out of breath, she came up to him. “The last time I saw the little guy he was headed in that direction.” She pointed to a stand of lodgepole pine.

“What’s the game plan here?”

Jenna pulled a cloth from her back pocket. “If we can get a covering on his head, it will calm him. Then I can get him in the cage for transport to the center.” She untied the silk scarf around her neck. “You’ll have to use this.”

He nodded. “Let’s get this done so you and the bird can get somewhere safe. And then maybe next time you can forego the trespassing.”

“I have to make the birds my priority. There is not always time to inform the landowner. Everyone around here knows me.” Strength had returned to her voice.

Keith clenched his jaw. When Jenna got an idea in her head, she was like a pit bull. She just wouldn’t let go. “We need to be careful up here from now on, Jenna, even if it was just teenagers being stupid with guns this time.” He hoped that’s all it was. That was bad enough. His grandparents were older and vulnerable. He didn’t like the idea of some town kid taking advantage of that.

“I’ll be careful, but this is serious. Someone shot at that eagle on your grandparents’ land. That is against the law.” Her voice, fused with emotion, broke. “I don’t like it when people hurt the birds. I won’t know what’s going on with that hawk until I can get a look at him. What if someone has been shooting at him, too?” She turned and stalked up the hill.

The scent of Jenna’s perfume lingered on the scarf she had given him. He held it for a moment before putting it in his front pocket as he followed her uphill. It would be so easy to get caught up in the whirlwind of Jenna Murphy trying to save all the wild animals. Twelve years ago, the house where Jenna and her father had lived had been a menagerie of the songbirds her father took care of and all the unwanted and injured animals Jenna had adopted. He smiled at the memory.

She stopped and turned to face him. “If you don’t want me tromping on your grandfather’s land, you can come with me each time.” Her tone was playful.

Heat swept up Keith’s face. She was standing so close. “I’ve got a lot of work to do for my grandfather.” His heart hammered in his chest. Did she have any idea what kind of effect she had on him, even after twelve years?

Jenna pivoted. “I saw movement over there.” She craned her neck. “That’s the hawk.” With the cage banging against her thigh, she darted toward the trees.

Keith followed behind. She stopped abruptly on the edge of a clearing. He peered over her shoulder and saw a medium-size bird with gray-brown feathers. Jenna stepped back and slipped behind a tree, pulling Keith with her. He towered over her by at least ten inches. She stood on tiptoe and pulled his head toward her to whisper in his ear.

“He hasn’t seen us. If you circle around to the other side, we have double the chance of getting him. Wait for a moment when you have a clean shot to throw the cloth on his head, and I’ll do the same. Whoever gets to him first, the other person needs to move in quickly.”

His heartbeat sped up when she stood this close. Her breath made his ear hot. Twelve years ago, he had just begun to see her as a young woman and not a buddy. The feelings that had barely blossomed before she rejected him were still as strong as ever.

After squeezing her shoulder to indicate he understood, he slipped into the evergreens, careful not to step on any underbrush. He knew plenty about moving silently through the woods. He had trained for cold weather combat and then they sent him to the desert. Sometimes, the military didn’t make any sense. He walked until he estimated that he was positioned opposite Jenna. He edged closer toward the clearing, still using the trees for cover.

A gust of wind blew through the trees. The hawk hopped off a log to the ground. The bird cocked his head and flapped his wings before settling. Almost indiscernible movement on the other side of the clearing told him where Jenna was. The bird fluttered as though alarmed and turned so he was facing Keith. Jenna materialized in the clearing and tossed the cloth over the bird. In a flurry of movement, Keith dove in. His vision filled with feathers and a sharp object pierced his hand. He swallowed a groan of pain.

When he oriented himself, Jenna had secured the cloth on the bird’s head with a piece of leather. Her fingers wrapped around the animal’s feet.

Blood oozed from the cut on his hand as the pain radiated up his arm. He followed Jenna to where she had set the cage.

Jenna made soothing sounds as she slipped the now still bird into the cage and secured the door. Her voice was like a lullaby. She turned to face Keith. A gasp escaped her lips as she grabbed his hand. “You’re bleeding.”

He pulled away, tugging the cuff of his shirt so it covered his wrist. “It’s all right. I can take care of it.” He didn’t want her looking at his arms.

“I should have warned you—their talons are like knives.”

“So I discovered.” Keith held out his uninjured hand for the cage. “I can take that.”

They hiked toward Jenna’s Subaru with the sun low on the horizon and the sky just starting to turn gray and pink. His old Dodge truck was farther down the road.

“Thanks for helping me,” Jenna said. “I always thought we worked together pretty well.”

Flashes of memory, of kayaking and rock climbing with Jenna, surfaced. They had had fun together. “We didn’t work. We played.”

“Still, we were a good team.”

Keith studied Jenna’s wide brown eyes. Being with her opened too many doors to the past and the painful memory of her turning her back on him when he had needed her most.

A muffled mechanical sound caused them both to stop in their tracks. In the distance, just beyond the rocks where they had taken cover, a helicopter rose into view. The machine angled to one side moving away from them.

Jenna’s expression indicated fear. “Tell me your grandfather has recently purchased a helicopter.”

Keith shook his head.

Jenna’s fingers dug into his upper arm. Her voice trembled. “Do you still believe this is just foolish kids with firearms?”




TWO


Jenna placed some live grasshoppers in the rescued hawk’s cage. Though the sense of panic had subsided, she still felt stirred up by what had happened. She tried to calm her nerves by focusing on doing routine things around the rescue center. She could deal with anything a wild bird did, but being shot at was an entirely different story. The hawk picked hungrily at the food. Except for the occasional beating of wings, the rescue center was quiet this time of night. All the volunteers and the one other staff person had gone home.

Outside, she heard Keith’s truck start up. Their encounter with the helicopter and being used for target practice had left her feeling vulnerable. When Keith had seen how shaken she was, he’d offered to follow her in his truck to the rescue center.

She had phoned Sheriff Douglas and told him about the helicopter and being shot at on the King Ranch on the drive home. Even then, as she retold the events to the sheriff, it had been a comfort to look in the rearview mirror and see Keith following her.

She didn’t know what to think about Keith Roland. He seemed like a different person from the one he’d been that last summer, but the memory of his destructive teenage behavior made her cautious. And there was no denying he was more distant now. She thought of how he had jerked away when she’d tried to pull back the cuff on his shirt to check the wound from the hawk’s talons. But he still was able to make her feel safe. She wouldn’t have had the courage to get the hawk without his help.

She grabbed a torn sheet and safety pins from a bottom shelf where medical supplies were stored. As she pinned the sheet onto the cage, the beating of wings and scratching sounds slowed and then stopped altogether. She’d done an initial exam but couldn’t find a reason why the rescued hawk couldn’t fly. It had been a relief not to find any sign that this bird had been shot. Both dark and pale mottling on the bird’s breast and flanks indicated that he was a fairly immature Swainson’s hawk. She had a theory about this bird. Flying was part instinct and part learned skill.

In the morning when her assistant Cassidy came in, they’d be able to do an X-ray to make sure there was no physiological reason the bird was flightless. Cassidy was on call 24/7, but Jenna had decided that the bird had been traumatized enough for one day. The X-ray would go better once the bird was hydrated and had his strength back. And Jenna would do a better job after a good night’s rest let her shake off the last of her jitters. Maybe by morning the sheriff would call with a perfectly logical explanation for the gunshots and helicopter…and even if he didn’t, it would be easier to feel brave in the daylight. For now, she’d just finish up things at the center and head home—hoping that her hands would stop trembling somewhere along the way.

Jenna checked on the bald eagle she had found yesterday, Greta. They had done an X-ray to make sure they’d gotten all the buckshot but that didn’t mean the bird was out of the woods yet. Infection from the wound was still a concern. The eagle didn’t react when Jenna looked in on her. She was still weak.

Jenna skirted the area that housed the cages filled with smaller birds and stepped into the office. An owl sat on a perch by her desk. She made clicking noises at Freddy, who responded by stepping side to side on his perch. Freddy was one of the center’s permanent residents, who served as an ambassador bird when Jenna did her presentations to schools and groups. Only the birds who would die if released in the wild got to stay at the center on a long-term basis. Freddy had fallen out of his nest and been rescued by a boy. The bird had imprinted on humans. As an owlet, Freddy thought he was a person. He was capable of flight but probably wouldn’t last long in the wild.

Jenna filed through the stack of papers on her desk. There was still work to do, but she could do some of it from her house, located just behind the center. She grabbed the camera from a drawer. She had a bunch of photos she needed to transfer to her laptop for the center’s newsletter. Once she had everything she needed to take home with her, she stepped out the back door into the cool evening of late summer. The flight barn to her right and a separate building up the hill that housed the other ambassador birds were silhouetted against the night sky, and she smiled at the sight of them. She loved the world she’d built for herself and her birds—and she wouldn’t let anyone harm it.

Her feet padded on the stone path to her house. The cool breeze caressed her skin, and a handful of stars spread out above her. God had done some nice artwork tonight. Late summer in Montana was her favorite time of year. The center stayed busy, and the weather was perfect. Jenna opened the door and stepped inside her living room. She left the door open to allow the evening breeze to air out the stuffy house.

After retrieving the computer cord for her camera from a kitchen drawer, she shifted a stack of magazines and bills she had piled on her coffee table and flipped open her laptop. The wallpaper on her desktop was of an eagle perched on a tree. Now that people had been shot at, the sheriff seemed more concerned.

He had been dismissive yesterday when she had called him about the eagle. He had theorized that the bird had been in the wrong place at the wrong time and had been shot by accident. She had reported the incident to the game warden, as well, who had expressed a little more concern. She didn’t expect everyone to be as upset about injured birds as she was, but shooting at eagles was illegal even if they weren’t on the endangered species list anymore. Jenna shuddered. She cared about the birds, but after what had happened today, going out into the forest alone would be no easy task.

She wasn’t going to let herself get hopeful. In her experience, poachers were almost impossible to catch unless they were discovered with the dead animal or there were witnesses. Because Greta had been injured with a shotgun, there was no bullet to trace.

Knowing Sheriff Douglas, his looking into the events on the King Ranch would probably not happen until the next afternoon. Finding out who had shot the eagle was probably even lower on his priority list, and she doubted he was giving any weight to her theory that the two shootings might be related—that someone could be targeting the birds.

A crashing noise emanated from inside the rescue center. Jenna jumped to her feet. What on earth was going on? She ran through the open door and raced up the stone path. The sound had come from the side where the birds were housed. Jenna pushed open the back door, and gasped.

The sheets had been torn off all five of the cages. A golden eagle fluttered and bashed itself against the wooden bars. A red-tailed hawk let out its distinctive cry, like a baby’s scream. Medical equipment and the X-ray table had been pushed over. Two small Kestrel hawks flew wildly around the room, making high pitched noises that indicated agitation.

Jenna stepped toward one of the cages, then knelt and picked up the torn fabric that had covered it. Twisting the cloth, she turned a quick half circle. Fear spread through her. It looked like someone had gone through and randomly tossed off the cage covers to stir up the birds. It didn’t look like any of the birds had been hurt, but they had been spooked, and so had she.

She shook her head as her mind raced. Who would do such a thing? And why? And most frightening of all—was the person still there?

The sharp slap of one object slamming against another startled her. It had come from the office. Her heart pounded. Someone was in the next room. She wished she could call for help—she had the sudden memory of Keith from before, sheltering and protecting her—but her house had the only land line. They used cell phones for the center, and her cell was in the Subaru.

Grabbing a pair of surgical scissors for a weapon, she pushed open the door that separated the birds’ cages from the office area. She scanned the room. Freddy’s perch had been knocked over. That must have been the noise she heard. Freddy might have been alarmed and pushed it over himself…or someone could have knocked it over. Her eyes darted from the top of a low file cabinet to her desk, Freddy’s other favorite places to perch.

“Freddy?”

Her stomach twisted into a knot. If someone had hurt or stolen that little bird… She checked several more places before finding Freddy backed into a corner behind an empty bucket. Poor little guy. After settling Freddy again on his perch, she surveyed the rest of the room. Her breath caught. The front door was slightly ajar. Someone had been in the office, too. She raced across the room, slammed the door shut and dead bolted it. Then she grabbed the keys off a hook and exited the rear door, careful to lock it behind her. Was the intruder still around? She was going to have to call the sheriff right now. Her feet pounded the stone walkway. She glanced from side to side. She’d have to check on the birds in the other buildings and clear up the mess the vandals had made later.

By the time she burst through the open door to her house, her legs were wobbly. Her sweating hand fumbled with the lock, and then she turned her attention to the phone. She had just heard the dial tone when she noticed her laptop had been turned around. She walked over to the coffee table and stared at the screen. The photograph of a bird had been replaced by a message.

STAY OFF THE KING RANCH OR THE BIRDS IN THE CENTER WILL DIE, ONE BY ONE.

Keith lifted the cover off the painting he had been working on and dipped his brush in a shade of blue he thought would capture the intensity of the Montana sky. He clicked on a light and positioned it so it shone on the canvas. This attic room in Gramps’s house, which he had set up as his living space, was hardly an ideal artist’s studio. It had small windows. At this hour, there wasn’t any natural light at all. Lack of ventilation made the space hot in the evening. But even with all its flaws, he liked the place for the quiet it provided.

In the corner of the sparsely furnished space, a German shepherd rested on a bed. With only a little brown on his nose and at the ends of his paws, Jet was an appropriate name for the therapy dog the V.A. had provided.

Keith took in a deep breath. It had to be past midnight. He slept on an erratic schedule and when he couldn’t sleep, he painted. Originally, his physical therapist had prescribed painting as a way of getting his dexterity back, but the hobby had proven to be useful for working out emotions, as well.

Seeing Jenna again had stirred him up. Had it been a mistake to come back here? After the death of his mother, it had seemed as though God was leading him back to the ranch to heal things between him and his grandparents since they were his only living relatives. Now he wasn’t so sure.

Grandma and Gramps had long ago turned off the evening news and gone to bed. They had adjusted to their night owl in the attic. The arrangement seemed to be working out well. The attic had a separate entrance with outside stairs, so he could come and go without bothering them. He helped out as much as they would let him. In the two weeks since he had been here, he and Gramps had mended some fence and repaired the dilapidated barn. He had tiled an entryway for his grandmother and weeded her garden. It felt good to make amends for what had happened twelve years ago, and they had welcomed him back with open arms.

The summer he had his first drink, a fellow kayaker who had been like a father to him had drowned on a run that Keith had decided not to go on at the last minute. Keith had spent a week in turmoil wondering if he would have been able to save his friend if he’d been there. At seventeen, he hadn’t known why he’d started drinking. Only when he was in treatment did he realize the alcohol numbed the guilt and confusion. His brush swirled across the canvas. In the left-hand corner, he’d painted an eagle in flight. He’d done that before he had ever run into Jenna Murphy. Jenna with the bright brown eyes. Jenna who had been a skinny-legged ten-year-old the first time he had seen her sitting in the park reading a book. Jenna who had become a beautiful woman.

He angled away from the easel and massaged his chest where it had grown tight. He had kept all those memories behind some closed door. Whenever he allowed the good memories in, the bad ones were bound to follow.

The last time he had seen her, she had been fifteen, standing with her back pressed against the door of her house. The silence of the summer night had surrounded them as she looked up at him. That night, he’d come to her house for a reason. He hadn’t expected her cold response.

“Keith, I heard about what you have been doing…about the drinking.”

“I haven’t had anything to drink for a week.” She had refused to be a part of his drinking life, so they hadn’t seen each other for two weeks. The time apart made him realize how much she meant to him. His grandparents’ lectures hadn’t stopped his craving for alcohol, but he’d quit for Jenna…if she’d help him. He didn’t want to lose her.

“I know about all the bad things you did. Everyone is talking.” Her voice held a desperate pleading quality. “You’re my friend, but we—we can’t stay friends if you’re going to act this way.”

“I’m trying to change here, Jenna. I have changed.” He pressed the heels of his hands against his forehead. “I know this summer has been a mistake.”

Her lips pressed together, disbelief evident in her features, like she didn’t have any faith in him. Didn’t she know who he really was?

“Jenna, I’ve realized something. That’s why I came here tonight. To talk to you. To tell you I don’t want to be just your friend.” He leaned toward her, close enough to be enveloped by her floral perfume. “Please.”

She studied him for a long moment. She turned her head away. “You need to go. You’re scaring me.” Her voice fused with fear.

He had seen his life as being at a crossroads that night. He was looking for a safe harbor to escape the destructive storm he had created. Her friendship had always been a stabilizing force in his life. After two weeks apart, he had thought maybe he knew what she meant to him. He had gone there with plans to kiss her for the first time, to let her see how important she was, how badly he needed her help. Apparently, the friendship had just been about fun to her. She hadn’t been willing to listen to him or weather the challenge he faced. Her rejection had propelled him back to his drinking buddies.

Though he had been angry at the time, he took responsibility for the arrest that had happened later that night. Looking back, he was glad it had happened. It had been a wake-up call. When his legal entanglements had been addressed, he enlisted. By the time he was finished with boot camp, he had gotten help and sobered up.

But the way Jenna had abruptly and completely cut him out of her life was what he could not get past. She hadn’t come to see him in jail and wouldn’t come to the phone when he’d called to say goodbye, as if all five summers together were washed away by one month of bad choices. She didn’t stick around long enough to see that he had changed.

The image of her turning her head to one side was as vivid as if it had happened yesterday. Keith clenched his jaw. He squeezed out more blue paint on the palette. His brush made broad, intense strokes across the canvas.

If Jenna hadn’t cut him out of her life, things would have been different. They would have stayed in touch. She would have known he’d gotten his act together shortly after that night.

Though the death of his friend had triggered his drinking, the emptiness of never having known his father had laid the foundation. If AA had taught him anything, he knew he couldn’t blame Jenna for his life choices. But still, he had been vulnerable with her, revealed his true feelings. And he had been rejected. He would never put himself in a place where she could hurt him like that again.

He had dated other women in the twelve years since he’d left Hope Creek in disgrace. Some had broken up with him and he had ended other relationships, but nothing had hurt as much as her turning away from him that night.

He flexed his fingers to try to work out the ache in them. Even though he had stripped down to his T-shirt, the attic space was still hot. He collapsed in a chair and stared at the work he had done so far. It was an okay landscape, but nothing that threatened Charlie Russell’s reputation.

Apparently sensing Keith’s distress, Jet rose from the bed and padded over to his owner. He rested his head on Keith’s leg, licked his chops and let out a sympathetic whine. Keith stroked Jet’s smooth, soft head, the movement drawing his attention to his wrist.

He ran his fingers along the braided scar that started there and moved up the inside of his arm to the crook of his elbow. He had an identical scar on the other arm, only not as far up. Scars on his chest, as well, showed where the power of the blast had embedded debris.

His life had changed in an instant by a roadside bomb. Both arms had been blown apart by the explosion. The speed at which they had moved him off the battlefield and a skillful surgeon had saved his life and his arms. He had lost some strength and dexterity and the scars would be there forever. But he thanked God every day that he was alive.

He didn’t realize it at the time, but God had brought a father replacement into his life in the form of a caring drill sergeant, who helped him find his sobriety while still in boot camp. But it wasn’t until his tour in Iraq and the accident that his understanding of God had changed. When he was in rehab staring at a hospital ceiling, he had found the faith that his grandparents had modeled summer after summer. Like his grandfather, he didn’t talk much about his faith, though he felt it deeply.

Keith wiped the sweat from his brow and stared at the eagle soaring in the immense painted sky. Despite his attempts to forget, he did remember Jenna; and now every detail of their summers together came at him like a flood. He hadn’t thought he would ever see her again. He had assumed she would leave for college and never come back. There was nothing to keep her in this dinky town. Her mom had died when she was two and though she’d been close to her father, the man had always encouraged her to follow her dreams.

He had come back to Hope Creek for two reasons: to make amends to his grandparents for the damage he had done when he was seventeen, and for the solitude. Iraq had been more than he had bargained for. He needed time to sort through his life and find his bearings again. Jenna hadn’t been on the agenda. How was it possible that with all that had happened, the dormant attraction could be revived just by seeing her?

Keith rose to his feet and picked up his brush. Maybe he should just paint over that eagle. He stood back to examine his work. No, the bird looked right flying up there in the huge sky. He dipped the tip of his brush in the blue and mixed it with white.

Someone rapped gently on the outside door. Who on earth would be knocking at this hour? Keith’s chest tightened. Maybe there had been an emergency with Gramps or Grandma.

He grabbed his long-sleeved shirt and raced over to the door.

When the door swung open, Keith’s jaw dropped, and he took a step back. “Jenna. What are you doing here?”




THREE


Keith’s reaction to the sight of her was a lot calmer than she had expected, considering the hour. He seemed surprised, but not displeased to see her. Even though he was barefoot, it didn’t look like he had been sleeping. Streaks of paint decorated the thighs of his faded jeans. His brow glistened with sweat, yet he wore a long-sleeved shirt.

“Someone broke into the center…and into my house. They left this note on the computer.” The trembling in her hands made the sheet waver.

Keith took the piece of paper she’d printed out.

“I know it’s late, but I thought you should see that.” Jenna’s legs were still wobbly, and her stomach had tied itself into knots. Right now, it didn’t feel like she would ever eat again.

Keith read the note. His expression hardened. “Did you tell the sheriff?”

“Both him and his deputy are over there right now. They let me go after I answered their questions. They could see I was upset, and they asked me if there was anyone who…”

He reached out and brushed a hand over her cheek. “You don’t look so good. Do you want to come inside?”

Like breath on a window, the warmth of Keith’s touch faded slowly. He was the first person she’d thought of when the fear over the vandalism had overwhelmed her. Even if the incident didn’t involve the King Ranch, she would have craved his calming influence. As though a day hadn’t passed, she had slipped into the old patterns of their relationship.

Though she was curious about where he lived, it was enough of an imposition to show up at this hour. “I don’t need to come inside. Sorry to bother you this late. I just thought you should know, since it concerns your grandparents’ place.”

He relaxed his posture and leaned against the door frame. “How did you know I was up here?”

“It was the only part of the house with lights on.” Her hand fluttered to her neck, where her pulse was racing. She hadn’t calmed down even after the drive over. Whoever had broken into the raptor center and her house had succeeded in their attempt to scare her by threatening to harm the birds at the center. She was furious at the threat, but she was also scared. Very, very scared.

Keith ran his hands through his wavy brown hair, then slapped the note with his hand. “Don’t tell my grandparents.” Strength returned to his voice, and he lifted his head. “Grandma and Gramps shouldn’t have to deal with something like this.”

“Good thing you are here to help.” The protective stance he had taken toward his grandparents was admirable. She found herself wishing he had been at the center earlier. He would have known what to do with the intruder. Maybe if Keith had stayed awhile to visit, there wouldn’t have been a break-in at all. Though she tried not to, mental images of birds fluttering wildly and the note on her laptop made her legs wobbly all over again.

Keith stepped toward her. “You look kind of pale. Are you sure you don’t want to come in and sit down?”

Jenna stepped across the threshold. “It’s kinda hot in here.”

“Not much ventilation,” he said.

She moved back outside and turned on the tiny landing. “I think the cool night air would be the best thing for me.” She was surprised that after all these years, he was still keenly tuned in to her emotional state. Surprised and flattered.

They had learned to read each other while rock climbing the last summer they were together. As climbers, they had always gone out in a group, but Jenna had proved to be his best climbing partner. Keith had been mentored by an older climber the year before. The next summer, their last summer together, he had taught Jenna. Because their lives depended on it, they had become adept at knowing not only what their climbing partner would do physically while hanging from a cliff face, but how their emotional states affected them. She wondered what he was reading from her now. She felt so anxious and confused, she didn’t know what to do. But his presence was making it better.

She stared up at the sky. Pulsating stars and wispy clouds accented the black dome above her. Strength returned to her limbs. She wasn’t shaking anymore.

Keith rested his back against the railing, lacing his hands together over his lean stomach. He looked up. “It is peaceful out here, isn’t it?”

“Always calms me down.” She took in a deep breath of fresh night air. “Better than therapy.” She bent her head, tracing the dark outline of the jagged mountains and flat buttes against the lighter shade of sky. Off in the distance, a light blipped and disappeared. She pushed herself off the railing. “What was that?”

Keith leaned toward her. “What?”

“Over there by those buttes. I think I saw a light.” She squinted and took a step toward the opposite railing, cupping her hands over the rough wood of the two-by-four. “I’m pretty sure I saw something. Do you have a pair of binoculars?”

“I can find some.” Keith stepped into the huge room, opened a couple of bureau drawers and lifted a coat and sweater as Jenna peered inside. Artificial light gave the space a warm glow. The place was free of clutter. Keith seemed to desire a bare bones existence. A black German shepherd settled in the corner.

She took a step inside. “I didn’t know you had a dog.” The shepherd lifted his head but remained in the bed.

Keith opened a cupboard. A dorm-size refrigerator and double burner resting on counter space indicated that the area functioned as a mini kitchen. “That’s my buddy, Jet.”

Jenna took another step inside. Two paintings, both landscapes, caught her eye. They were places she knew well, a river and a mountaintop no more than a few miles away. Was Keith aware that he was painting their childhood haunts?

“Found them.” Keith pulled a pair of binoculars from a lower cupboard.

She retreated to the balcony and turned her attention back to the area where she had spotted the light. Nothing caught her eye. Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something or someone was out there.

Keith’s bare feet padded lightly on the wood floor. Once outside, he handed her the binoculars.

She leaned toward him and pulled the binoculars up to her face. She adjusted focus and scanned the landscape filled with shadows. “I saw what looked like a glowing light.”

Keith surveyed the tiny landing and then looked up. “Maybe if we get higher.” He tested the railing by shaking it. “I’ll climb first and then pull you up.”

He jumped on the railing and flipped himself on the roof with the deftness of an Olympic gymnast. He turned and stared down at her. “Your turn.”

Already, her heart was racing. As a young girl she had had a fear of heights. Keith had helped her overcome that, but she was out of practice. The old fears were back. She handed him the binoculars first and then crawled on the railing. “This brings back some memories.”

“We never climbed houses.” There was something guarded about the statement.

“Just rock cliffs, right?” Her life would have gone on a completely different trajectory if she hadn’t met Keith when she was ten. Like her father, who was the town’s librarian, she’d spent most of her time with her face buried in a book. She had always loved nature, but Keith’s desire to teach her to kayak and climb had awakened her sense of adventure. If it hadn’t been for him, she probably would have ended up working in a lab somewhere instead of running the rescue center. And she definitely wouldn’t be here, about to climb on the roof of a house, looking for answers to a mystery.

“You’re going to have to stand on that railing,” he coaxed.

“I know.” Her hands were sweating.

Keith pushed himself to the edge of the roof. “My hand is right here.”

She eased to her feet, finding her balance by resting a hand on the wall. Whether showing her how to rock climb or build a campfire, he’d been a patient teacher. Jenna lifted her head and locked into Keith’s gaze. She reached for him. He gripped her wrist. The warmth of his touch permeated her skin to the marrow. “I’m dizzy.”

“I’m right here. Other hand. Let go of the wall, Jenna,” he soothed.

He pulled her up and into his arms in one easy movement. She scooted toward him and away from the edge of the roof. Her hand rested on his chest. Beneath the softness of the cotton shirt, his heart pounded out a raging beat. She bent her head, out of breath. “I never did learn to like heights.” The truth was that when she was hanging from a mountain, if it had been anyone else beside Keith holding the rope, she probably wouldn’t have been able to climb.

“You always did just fine.” His voice warmed.

His face was close enough for her to hear the soft intake and exhale of air. She could smell his soapy cleanness. She’d kept Keith Roland frozen in time. All these years, he’d been the boy who was her summertime buddy. But he wasn’t a boy anymore. His transition into manhood had been marked by such tragedy that she’d held on to the part of him that had been so wonderful, the boy part of him. Here in front of her, holding her, was the man she couldn’t make heads or tails of.

He scooted away, and the coolness of the night enveloped her. “Let’s see if we can spot anything from here,” he said, clearing his throat.

Jenna pulled her knees up to her chest. Then she studied the outline of the mountains. Again, a light flickered and disappeared. She pointed and grabbed his arm. “Right about there.”

He lifted the binoculars, craning his neck slowly.

“See anything?”

He shook his head. “Maybe if we stand.”

“On the roof?”

He laughed, and there was something of the adventurous boy in the laughter. “Come on, you know I can talk you into almost anything.”

“That was when I was twelve. This is not a mountain. We don’t have any ropes to catch our fall. You stand up.”

He nodded. “Suit yourself.” He handed her the binoculars and eased himself to his feet. His hand reached down, brushing the top of her head while he continued to look straight ahead. She grabbed his hand at the wrist and placed the binoculars in them.

He wobbled as he lifted them to his face but maintained his balance. Jenna held her breath. She tilted her head.

“I see them,” he said a moment later. “Lights…moving.” After putting the strap around his neck, he let the binoculars fall against his chest.

“What could it be?”

“People on my grandfather’s land.” His voice intensified. “It’s hard to tell exactly where they are at this distance. Gramps and I used to ride all over the place on dirt bikes, but it’s been a while since then. I don’t know the trails as well as I used to.”

“I’ve gotten pretty good at reading the landscape from having to rescue birds in the weirdest places.”

“That would involve you having to stand up,” he teased.

She took in a breath. “I can do it.”

“That’s my brave girl.”

Her heart lurched. That was what he used to say to her when she made the decision to do something, even if it scared her.

He extended a hand to her and she rose to her feet. She leaned against him to steady herself. She could see the front edge of the roof from here. Even before she straightened her legs, the night sky was spinning around her. She dug her fingers into his arm. He braced her by placing his arm around her waist.

“Steady,” he whispered in her ear.

His hair brushed against her cheek. “Ready now?” She nodded, and he brought the binoculars up to her eyes. The view through the lens was not spinning. Pulsating circles of light floated phantomlike across the landscape. She could discern another larger stationary glow. “Somebody is definitely out there.”

“But where are they exactly? Gramps’s place is thousands of acres.”

She moved the binoculars across the view in front of her. The outline of the mountains revealed the shape of a wizard’s hat and a formation that everyone called the Angel’s Wings. “They have got to be close to Leveridge Canyon.”

“I remember that area. Should we call the sheriff, tell him where to go?”

Jenna shook her head. “The sheriff’s still looking for fingerprints at my place. It would take him a while to get over here. We should go out there now before they leave. What if what is going on out there now is connected to the shooting and the note?”

He rubbed his hands on his jeans, angling his head away from her.

“Someone is trespassing on your grandfather’s land. We can find out who is doing this and turn them in,” she persisted. If they caught whoever was doing this, they wouldn’t be able to harm the birds at the center.

The thought of any kind of confrontation terrified her, though. She needed Keith’s help. Why was he hesitating? The events of the afternoon showed that he could handle himself just fine, better than she could. “Please Keith, I can’t do this alone.”

He crossed his arms and stared out at some unknown object as though he were mulling over options. He turned toward her. “I don’t want you going out there by yourself. It could be dangerous.”

“Thank you.”

He shook his head and let his arms fall to his side. “I’ll see if I can find a map that might help us pinpoint where they are. The dirt bikes are fueled and ready to go in the garage.”

In less than fifteen minutes, they had climbed down from the roof and run to the garage. Jenna placed the bike helmet on her head. She watched him buckle a gun belt around his waist. Considering what had happened this afternoon, the gun was a reasonable precaution. Still, her heartbeat quickened as she slipped on her bike gloves. What were they riding out to?

Jenna turned the petcock on the fuel tank, choked the engine, flipped out the kickstart.

Without a word, Keith sauntered over to her bike while she stepped aside. He jumped down on the kick start. The engine revved to life. She had never been able to get a bike started on the first try.

While Keith started his own bike, Jenna swung a leg over the worn seat. She twisted the throttle to a high idle.

Keith burst out of the barn on his bike. Jenna clicked on her headlight and sped out after him. He waited for her on the road. The hum and putt putt sound of the bike motor surrounded her as she caught up with him, and they headed toward the dark horizon.




FOUR


The helmet enveloped Keith’s head, pressing on his ears and creating an insulated sensation. He glanced back, taking note of the soft glow of Jenna’s headlight. Despite the rough terrain, she kept up pretty well. Part of him wished he could leave her behind and check out the danger on his own. He didn’t want to put her at risk. But he doubted she’d let him go without her, and he wasn’t about to let her go into the canyon by herself. Even after all these years, he felt the need to protect her.

Still, the pinprick to his heart, the memory of her rejection, had made him hesitate. When he had held her in his arms on the roof, her hand on his chest had seared through him. It had taken every ounce of strength he had to pull away.

At seventeen, he had just begun to see Jenna as a young woman. He had been clumsy and unsure of himself. His attraction for her came out through roughhousing and verbal jousts. When they were on the roof, her touch had been like breath on a glowing ember. He clenched his jaw. He revved the throttle on the bike and lurched forward. So what if the feelings were still there, stronger than ever? That didn’t mean he had to do anything about the attraction and be hurt by her all over again.

The road narrowed. The bike bounced over the rocks. Up ahead, he could see the dark shadows of the granite boulders that formed the opening to Leveridge Canyon. He stopped the bike and flipped up his visor. The smooth hum of Jenna’s bike growing closer filled the night air. The crescent moon hung just above the flat-topped buttes in the distance.

Jenna came beside him, geared down the dirt bike and flipped up her visor.

Keith pointed. “If we go this way, we can get pretty far into the canyon before we have to hike in.”

She nodded. “Sounds good,” she shouted as she revved up the bike motor. She flipped down her visor and sped off, kicking up dirt.

He closed the distance between them and rode beside her. She nodded in his direction and then sped a little ahead. Finally, she brought the bike to a stop and dismounted. Keith caught up with her, stopped his bike and pushed the kick stand down.

Jenna pulled off her helmet, gathered up her long hair and twisted it into some kind of knot that held it off her face. He had never quite figured out how she did that. Moonlight washed over her tanned skin accentuating the melting curves of her neck.

She hung the helmet on the handlebars.

Keith turned away. His forearms had begun to hurt from shifting gears and managing the bike over uneven terrain. “You probably ride all the time.” He massaged the area above his wrist. Frustration shot through him. He just wanted to be able to do the things he used to do and not have to be reminded of his injury.

“Bikes do come in handy for work sometimes. Only when I try to start one, it takes three or four tries. It was nice to have help this time.”

He detected a tone of gratitude in her voice.

She turned off the headlight on her motorcycle and took in a deep breath. “Tell me we have a flashlight.”

“Why? You scared of the dark?” he teased as he clicked off his headlight.

“I’m not scared. You’re the big chicken,” she said.

He picked up on the strain in her voice. They were joking because they were both nervous about what they might find in the canyon.

Sitting in the darkness, he said a quick prayer that he would be able to keep Jenna safe. His calm returned.

He loved the remote parts of the ranch far away from houses and any artificial light. The intensity of the darkness had always caused his heart to beat faster. Tonight, the surrounding vastness reminded him of how huge God was. He was just a speck in the universe and God loved him anyway.

“I’m not afraid, are you?” she challenged and then laughed at their game. Her boots scraped the hard rock. She moved so she was standing next to him. Her shoulder brushed against his, sending a charge of electricity up his arm. “It’s like a game of chicken, right?” she whispered.

They stood for a moment, shoulders pressed together. The game helped lighten the tension over what they might be facing in the canyon. Keith focused on the gentle inhale and exhale of Jenna’s breathing.

He leaned forward and felt along the handlebars until he touched the canvas tool bag, then reached in. His fingers wrapped around the cold metal cylinder of the flashlight. He clicked on the light and shone it in her direction being careful not to shine it directly in her eyes.

“Should we get going?” She turned and headed into the canyon.

Once she wasn’t looking at him, he touched the gun on his hip. He had every confidence all his training meant he could deal with whatever they faced, but could Jenna? Once again, he thought that maybe he should have told her to go back home. But he knew he wouldn’t have been able to talk her out of coming. Her determination to end the threat against her birds was strong. That somebody thought his grandparents’ land was open for public use was wearing on him, too. The sooner they got to the bottom of this, the better.

He increased his pace and caught up with Jenna. He tuned into the sounds around him, ready to respond to any threat.

He shone the flashlight ahead of her. “Careful, you don’t want to fall.”

“I’ll be fine,” she said.

They hiked over the rocky ground as the canyon walls closed in on them.

She stopped and grabbed his wrist. “You hear that?” She spoke in a harsh whisper.

Keith turned his head and listened. A faint mechanical thrum, like a bee buzzing under a glass jar, pressed on his ears. He shone the light. Only the granite walls of the canyon came into view.

Jenna rested a hand on his shoulder. “We must be close. I say we keep going.”

He picked up on a hint of fear in her voice. “Let me stay in front.” He trudged forward, and she followed behind him. The noise faded in and out, but always sounded far away. The canyon walls, though, had a way of creating echoes that played tricks with sound.

The smolder of wood burning thickened the air and filled his nostrils. They were close.

The distance between the walls of the canyon increased as they stepped into an open flat spot with no vegetation.

He shone the flashlight which revealed motorcycle and four-wheeler tracks. “What happened here?”

“Trespassers, big-time.” Anger coursed through Keith. The nerve of people disrespecting his grandparents like this.

Jenna grabbed his hand and aimed the flashlight toward the source of the smoke. “It looks like the campfire was just put out.” She walked over to it and kicked at the rocks that formed a circle.

Keith edged toward Jenna. “We could hear the sound of their bikes on the way up the canyon. They are probably still pretty close.”

Even though he couldn’t hear anything now, an inner instinct told him they were not safe. The air felt stirred up.

He shone the light around the edges of the camp. Only blackness. A coyote howled in the distance. Jenna gripped his arm. Keith aimed the flashlight a few feet from the fire, revealing empty beer bottles. He wanted to believe that it was just teenagers having a party, but something felt more sinister here.

“Where do you suppose they went?”

He stepped away from the fire. The tire tracks went around in circles like someone was joyriding.

She continued to hold his arm as they stepped toward the surrounding forest. Some of the tracks led out of the camp to the east and others went in the opposite direction. “They split up,” she said.

Or maybe not. It was hard to tell. The tire impressions were distorted by darkness and uneven ground. The riders had crisscrossed over each other’s paths a dozen times.

As if she had read his mind, Jenna said, “I count two four-wheelers and two, maybe three dirt bikes.”

“At least.” It was a big group, anyway. He turned his attention in the other direction. Maybe another three or four riders had gone that way. What were they after? What had brought them here?

Jenna gripped his arm even tighter. “That’s a lot of people,” she said.

Whether they were teenagers or not, the thought of someone tromping around his grandfather’s ranch and shooting at him and Jenna infuriated him. Had Gramps’s land been targeted because he was older and less able to fight back?

Jenna tensed. “They’re coming back.” Panic filled her voice.

The mechanical clang of a bike motor echoed through the canyon. “I can’t tell where it’s coming from.” Keith angled his torso to one side and then pivoted in the opposite direction.

The noise grew louder, then softer, then increased in volume again.

“This way.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and stepped toward a stand of trees. After Jenna slipped behind a tree, he clicked off the flashlight and settled beside her on the ground.

The roar of the bike intensified. A second motor was added to the mix. He brushed a hand over the gun in his holster. Jenna pressed close to him.

They crouched with the darkness surrounding them. Jenna’s clothes rustled as she shifted on the ground. She stiffened when the bike noise got louder and then relaxed when the clatter of the motors faded.

“I think they are gone,” she said as she melted against him.

“Maybe.” He couldn’t hear anything, either, but he wasn’t convinced the danger was over.

He clicked on the flashlight to have a quick look. Jenna uttered a sound as though she were about to say something. But then her fingers gripped his upper arm.

The roar of a four-wheeler was on top of them with the suddenness of an explosion.

Jenna stood up halfway, and Keith pulled her down as he clicked off the light. “You’ll be seen.”

In an instant, a four-wheeler was in the camp, followed by a second one, blocking the path Keith and Jenna had taken into the canyon. As the noise assaulted his ears, adrenaline surged through him. They couldn’t leave the way they had come. Jenna clung to him, wrapping her arm through his.

The riders wore helmets, making it impossible to tell who they were. One of the four-wheelers turned in their direction, catching them in the headlights. They’d been spotted. Keith turned, pulling Jenna deeper into the trees.

The rider turned off his engine and dismounted from the bike. He stalked toward the trees where they had taken cover.

Keith searched his memory for the layout of this part of the ranch as they ran through the forest. Behind them, one of the four-wheelers faded in the distance.

They scrambled through the darkness. A branch whacked against his forehead. He shone the light briefly to find the path with the least hazards and then turned it off.

Jenna tugged on his shirt. “This way.” She sucked in air and struggled to speak. “We can circle back around to the other side of the canyon.”

Behind them, branches broke and cracked. They were being chased.

Still holding on to Jenna, he plunged into the inky darkness. They worked their way down a rocky incline away from the trees. Keith glanced behind them where a light bobbed.




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