Authors: Terry Spear
“You said you were going to paint this morning. Can I help?” she asked, wanting to do something more than be a fixture around the place.
They took their seats at the table. Chase poured maple syrup on his French toast.
“Sure. Do you really want to?”
“I’d like to feel like I’m being useful around here. I’ve painted some… well, it’s been a long time ago. Maybe when I was five and I used my hands and not a brush.”
He chuckled. “I can’t say enough how much I enjoy your company. You don’t have to do anything, but wake me up at night to keep me on my toes.”
She smiled. “I’ve… I’ve enjoyed being here with you, too. I still want to help.”
“Sounds good to me. I checked last night on the supplies and we have just enough to paint the living room. Are you ready?”
“Sure am.”
She was wearing the gray sweats, figuring they were perfect for painting since she didn’t care for the color anyway, in case she dripped a little paint on them.
They headed to the cabin furthest from Chase’s, and once inside, they first moved the furniture out of the way, then taped, and laid down plastic to protect the wood floors. That took about an hour, but with the two of them working well as a team, that had probably saved them a lot of time. Chase began rolling paint on the walls while she was doing the detail work, the corners and edgings. He had brought over some wild music to play while they were working, and she had to pause to observe him dancing to the beat.
She chuckled and he smiled. “Painting has never been this much fun before, I have to admit,” he said, turning back to face the wall and rolled another layer of paint over it.
“You make it fun,” she said. She filled up her tray with more paint and was just crouching down to paint along the baseboard when a mouse scurried across the plastic and she fell back, annoyed with herself for her reaction to seeing a mouse. She was a cat, for heaven’s sake! A big cat.
But she tipped the tray of paint she was holding and spilled some of it on her sweatshirt and pants. Trying to avoid getting it all over herself, she tried to stand and stepped back and realized too late that the object behind her that she had bumped into was the can of paint.
Normally she could react quickly, but with the tray of paint in her hand, the paintbrush in the other, and being off balance, she knew there was only one way this was going. Her falling, knocking over the can of eggshell white paint, making a mess, and creating a total disaster.
Between the beat of the music and Chase working on the wall behind her with his back to her, he didn’t see the catastrophe going down. Not that he could have done anything to prevent it, rescue her, or save the paint.
All she could think of as the paint poured out of the can and she was sitting in a puddle of it, soaking it up with her sweats, he would never want her helping him to paint again.
As quickly as she could, she jerked the overturned can of paint right side up, but the damage was already done. She was just glad they’d covered most of the floor with plastic and all of the paint was either on her or on the plastic. She looked over to see if Chase had even noticed.
He was still shaking his booty to the music and rolling the paint on the wall.
She smiled, shook her head, and sighed. “I hate to tell you this, Chase, but I think we might need another can of paint.”
“There should be plenty enough in that can to cover the walls,” he said, glancing at her. For a second, he just took in the sight of her sitting there, covered in white paint, a mess of it on the plastic, and of course, there wasn’t any sign of the mouse so she couldn’t even point to him as the culprit.
Not that she’d really want to, either. A big cat shouldn’t get spooked by a little mouse.
Then Chase burst out laughing. That made her smile. She was glad he wasn’t mad at her.
He joined her and peered into the can of paint. “You’re right. We’re going to need some more paint.”
“I’ve got to get cleaned up. I’m soaked through to my panties and bra.”
He was still chuckling. “Sorry, I can’t help it. You are so cute. Okay, can you manage to get back to the cabin and get washed up on your own? I’ll clean this up and run into town for some more paint. If you still want to help me finish the job, you can join me then.”
“You still want me to?” she asked skeptically.
He laughed. “Yeah, I do. I hate doing the detail work and you’ve made a great start on it. Maybe I should get two cans of paint, just to be sure we have enough.”
“You have mice,” she said, as he helped her to stand.
He started chuckling again. “You saw a mouse.”
She rolled her eyes and headed out the door. She stalked back to his cabin, and when she got there, she stripped off all her clothes, and wiped up most of the excess paint that had seeped through to her skin with the unpainted part of her sweatshirt, then dumped it with the rest of her clothes on the grass. She’d have to wash them out as soon as she took a shower. She didn’t envy Chase having to clean up her mess at the other cabin.
But she was glad that he was so good-natured about it.
When she reached the bathroom, she saw she even had splatters of paint on her face and in her hair. She groaned, started the shower, climbed in, and began to soap up.
“I’ll be right back,” Chase hollered to her. “If you need anything…”
“No. Thanks. I’ve got to wash my clothes out next, and we can finish painting when you get back.”
“Okay, take me no more than half an hour or so.”
“See you shortly,” she called out, and then she relaxed and enjoyed the shower. She didn’t look forward to cleaning her sweats. What a mess.
When she was finished with her shower, she threw on her jeans and the gray sweater, grabbed a trash bag, and headed outside. After dumping her clothes into the bag, she took them inside and began cleaning them out in the kitchen sink. This was a hundred times worse than cleaning paintbrushes. The paint just kept pouring out of her clothes no matter how much she ran the water over them and kept squeezing out the paint. If she’d had a lot more clothes to wear, she would have just figured they were now her paint clothes. But she wore them to snuggle up with Chase on the couch while they watched movies, warmer than her pink nightie that was more suitable for cuddling with him in bed later.
That had her thinking about how long she was staying and how she was fighting with herself over leaving, and letting Chase and the others help her. Every day she’d tell herself she’d stay just a little longer.
But she felt strangely at home here—with Chase. Every day she’d look at the calendar, feeling a little panicked, telling herself she couldn’t keep putting off leaving here forever. That she should have already left well before hunting season had arrived—and it had already begun.
Thanksgiving was nearly here. And when she knew she shouldn’t, she’d promised to go to the Muellers’ for Thanksgiving with Chase in just a few days. He’d told her how he hadn’t celebrated it in years and how much it would mean to him if she’d go with him. He’d already done so much for her, and she had to admit the lure of turkey and the works and spending the time with him and his friends appealed more than her wanting to leave.
But after that, she needed to go. She was certain her good fortune wouldn’t last forever.
Over the spray of the faucet water, she thought she heard a vehicle pull up outside.
She couldn’t believe it had taken her that long to shower and wash her clothes—that she was still washing. She listened to the sound of the vehicle’s engine. It wasn’t Chase’s hatchback. Her heartbeat quickened, and she quickly turned off the kitchen faucet.
The engine ran rougher, sounded noisier, more… ominous. Maybe someone wanted to rent a cabin. Or maybe someone had come by to see Chase. But she didn’t believe so. Everyone knew her situation. She was certain they would have called ahead and let him know, and he would have warned her if they were coming. Maybe it was that pesky reporter again, and he knew she was alone.
She dried off her hands and ran to the bedroom to get the phone. She pulled it off the bedside table and called Chase. “Chase—“
“Yeah, did you need something while I’m in town?” he asked, sounding cheerful when her blood was running cold. “I’m just about through with getting the paint mixed. I’ll be there in about ten minutes.”
“Someone just parked outside your cabin.”
Three doors opened, but they didn’t slam shut. Whoever it was she thought was attempting to be quiet. With her enhanced cat hearing, she heard everything.
“At least three people.” Her voice was soft, but trembled. She hated feeling like she was the hunted, the prey again, when for the past two and half weeks she’d felt almost normal, living like anyone else in the town, happy with Chase and with those who had welcomed her so warmly. She glanced at the rifle cabinet and noted it was locked.
“I’m in my car and headed back. Is the front door locked?” he asked, his voice hard, police-like.
“Yes.”
She eyed the door, listening to their movement, heard someone’s boots walking across the deck toward the living room window. She was thankful the curtains had remained shut—her wish, feeling safer like that, hating that she still hadn’t felt entirely safe here. Chase had been sweet enough to accommodate her in anything she had wanted.
At least the men couldn’t see her through any of the windows.
“I’m on my way back, Shannon. Do you know how to shoot a rifle?” Chase asked, giving her a chance to see what was going on before he intruded on her thoughts.
“Yes, but I already checked, and the gun cabinet’s locked. There are at least three people out there and no one has spoken a word.” Which made her believe they were men, that they were after her, and they were motioning with hand signals. She hoped she was just being paranoid.
Someone knocked on the door, and she jumped a little, her heart beating hard, her eyes fastened on the solid oak, but she was listening for where the others were. Hennessey wouldn’t bother knocking, would he?
The one at the door could very well be a distraction while the others tried to find a way in. Instantly, she thought of Hal’s house and how she had managed to find an unlocked window. She’d known, from her brother and his friends’ scrapes with the law, that often people left a window unlocked, second-story windows usually, figuring no one would climb up to reach them.
Now, she worried that Chase might have an unlocked window somewhere in the house. She thought she heard someone try to lift the living room window. Nothing happened. It was locked. But the fact someone would try the window, meant these people were trouble.
“They’re trying to get in through an unlocked window,” she said to Chase, her voice unsteady.
“I’ll be there, Shannon. I’m only minutes away. The lock combination to the rifle cabinet is—“
“Shannon,” Hennessey called out, making Chase stop talking to her on the phone. Chase had heard.
“We know you’re in there and that the boyfriend has left you all alone. Open the door and make it easy on yourself. All we want is to know where Ted hid the money,” Hennessey yelled. “Your boyfriends always end up dead, don’t they? Let this one live. Come on out. We just want that money. I’ll only give you one chance to cooperate. Wait—you don’t think I killed Ted in cold blood, do you?”
Of course he had. What did he think? She was an idiot?
She swallowed hard. They’d been watching the cabin. For how long? They couldn’t have been watching it all that long or they could have grabbed her when she went out to get her clothes that were covered in paint.
But she knew Hennessey lied about Ted. She hadn’t thought anything of the money that Ted had stolen. He said he’d paid expenses with it. She’d figured he’d spent it. But his brothers must have thought otherwise. How much had he stolen? Why would they think Ted would have confided in her?
And then she remembered the last things that were said right before she escaped. Hennessey had asked where he had the money. Ted had seen her and said her name, as if he had forgotten she was in the house, or that she might be hurt next. Had Hennessey thought Ted was saying Shannon knew where the money was?
Even if she did know and could tell Hennessey, he would still want her dead. She had witnessed him murdering his brother.
“What you saw was a case of self-defense. Ted came after me with one of your butcher knives. I only just managed to wrestle it away from him. I didn’t want to hurt him. I had to know where the money was.”
“It’s them,” she said to Chase in a hushed voice. “Hennessey and two others. I… I love you, Chase. Always remember that.” She didn’t believe Hennessey had accidentally killed his brother. Maybe they had fought over the knife, but he still wanted Shannon dead.
“Shannon, the combination on the gun cabinet is…”
She didn’t hear the rest of Chase’s words as she shoved the phone in her jeans pocket. She was already running for his bedroom. If she could strip off her clothes, make it to his bedroom window, and open it in time, she could shift, leap out into the woods, and run.
Even if she’d managed to get into the rifle cabinet in time, she couldn’t kill all three men, and she’d be a sitting duck. But someone was likely to hear her shoving the window up at the back of the house, and then he would run around the back while alerting the others. Or someone might already be at the window. She hoped they were watching
her
bedroom window instead.
She had her sweater off and tossed it in the hall. She had to pause to kick off her socks, and when she reached Chase’s bedroom, she pulled off her jeans and panties. Even as a cougar, she would be able to fight at least one of them before they shot her dead. A crash sounded as something struck the glass in the living room window, making her heart skip a few beats. Someone banged hard against the front door. It was solid oak and wouldn’t budge.
More tinkling of breaking glass in the living room sounded as someone must have been trying to make it safe enough to climb through the window.
Heart hammering against her ribs, she locked Chase’s bedroom door, and ran to his window, still unclasping her bra, then tossed it aside. Then she peered out through the curtains. No sign of anyone.