Darlings of Paranormal Romance (Anthology) (104 page)

"Any sign?" she called out to
him.

"No. Whoever or whatever it was is
gone." A few feet from the porch stairs, Brandt stopped and looked
around again.

Ignoring Brandt's protests, Sam took
a couple of steps into the darkness. "Soldier?"

Brandt came to stand beside her. "Can
you see him?"

"No, but he has to be here?" She spun
to the left. "Wait, what was that?"

A small whine sounded several hundred
feet away.

"Soldier? Soldier! Come here,
boy."

Twigs broke and the brush rustled
with movement. Darkness had descended quickly. Sam backed up a
couple of steps. "Soldier, come here, boy."

Peering through the darkness, she
thought she saw something move. "Soldier," she whispered, "Is that
you."

Soldier limped toward her.

Sam ran and put her arms around him
in a quick hug. She coaxed him forward. "Come on boy. Time to go
home."

"Is he hurt?" Brandt surveyed the
large animal. The damn thing had to weigh at least a-hundred-twenty
pounds. Uninjured and cooperative, he might be able to move
him…injured and cranky – no way.

"I don't know." Sam gently ran her
hands over the dog's limbs, ignoring the warning growls. "Come on
Soldier, let's get you inside."

Once on the porch, they could see
fresh blood on his side.

"Damn it, Soldier." Sam checked his
wound, accidentally touching a sore spot. Soldier spun around, his
lip curled, an ungodly howl erupting from his throat.

Brandt trained his gun on the injured
animal. "Sam, get back." The evening stilled. "Don't touch him.
He's dangerous like this."

Soldier turned slowly toward Brandt,
then his spine arched, and the howl turned menacing.

Sam shuffled behind Brandt. Soldier
had eyes only for Brandt.

She said in a quiet calm voice,
"Brandt, I think it's the gun – put it away."

"Are you nuts? He could
attack."

"It's the gun that's upsetting him.
It's easy to check my theory. Just put the gun away."

Brandt snorted. "I've seen too many
aggressive animals to do that." He kept his eyes on the dog,
sparing a quick glance at Sam.

"Let's just try it –
please."

He stared at the dog for a long
moment, then slowly lowered the firearm and slipped it behind. Out
of sight but not away.

The dog watched every movement. The
growling lessened ever so slightly.

"I wonder." A sudden impulse rolled
around inside. Using hand signals, he ordered the dog to sit.
Soldier howled.

Brandt repeated the
command.

Soldier howled louder.

Brandt made the command sharper,
harder.

Silence.

Then in a shuffling movement, Soldier
slowly lowered his haunches.

Brandt shook his head then gave the
command to heel. Wanting the dog to walk at his side was safer than
having Sam try to coax him up to the house.

This time, Soldier obeyed on the
first go around, the movement slow and awkward, but he did
it.

"Brandt?"

"He's been well-trained. I don't know
to what extent though. There are some commands I can try. From the
look of him, I'm almost ready to suggest he's been a police dog in
his past."

"Really?" Sam stared from one to the
other. "Do you really think so?"

"I think he's a trained guard dog and
chances are good his training was more formal. It's possible he
didn't work out and never finished the training."

Once at the cabin, the slow moving
party made it inside. Brandt ordered the dog to lie down. Soldier,
small growls from deep in his throat, grudgingly obeyed.

Sam quickly checked out Soldier's
wounds again. Brandt and Soldier glared at each other.

"It's not too bad. Looks like he
ripped a stitch or two and he's limping. That could just be his old
injuries with the unexpected chase in the woods." Sam gave the dog
a quick hug. "Poor boy."

Brandt snorted. "Why's
that?"

"The vet thought he'd
been abused. As far as Soldier's concerned, it's people who aren't
to be trusted." Sam paused for a moment, sniffed the air, bent
closer to Soldier's back then raised her head. "Did someone just
shoot my dog?"

***

7:18 pm

Brandt sat on the porch steps,
speaking with his mother.

Sam studied him for a long moment,
waiting for his call to end, before walking out to join him. "I
just poured you a cup of tea." Sam handed the cup to Brandt. "How
are the colonel and your mother?"

He glanced at her in surprise. "No
change."

"So can we talk then?" At his
confused look, she added, "Deputy Brooker. Remember?"

"What? Oh, right. He's here. As I
told you earlier, your Deputy Brooker came to see me
today."

"Oh, God." Sam sat down – hard. She
didn't need to look in a mirror to know that all the color had
leached from her face.

"He's been in town for a couple of
days already." Brandt sat opposite her. "I know it's easy to jump
to conclusions, but we don't know any more than that
yet."

It was too much. Sam had hoped to
hide her history, hoped that past events wouldn't have to be
dragged into her future. "Damn it."

"Keep in mind, he doesn't know where
you live."

Hope unfurled deep inside then she
remembered what had just happened. She searched his face. "You're
dreaming," she scoffed. "He was probably the one doing the shooting
out there tonight." She added, "I have no illusions. He'd kill me
any time he had a chance."

Brandt studied her face.

She stared calmly back. If there was
one thing he needed to believe, it was that Brooker was slime,
dangerous slime.

"Alright, I can see you believe that.
He said you stole something from his family. Information of some
kind? Any idea what that's all about?" Brandt's supportive gaze
gave her strength.

She laughed, a broken sound that made
him wince. "I didn't steal anything. Don't you see? The information
he thinks I have is what I picked up from him. My psychic abilities
told me a lot. That's what he's afraid of. That I know too much."
Pain knotted at the base of her spine, shooting up through her
temple. She shivered. "And he's right. I do."

Brandt mulled this over.

She stared blindly out the dark
window. "Remember my car accident?"

"The one where you were injured or
the one where you saw Louise Enderby die?"

"No, the first one – where I almost
died. That was him. He caused my accident – he tried to kill
me."

Chapter 20

8 pm

S
am bent her head.

Brandt stared at the delicate
tendrils of hair curled around her neck. The rest hung in long
locks down to her waist. Really? He mentally drew up the deputy's
countenance and conceded that, yeah, just maybe it was possible.
That guy had an agenda. One that had nothing to do with his
supposed visit to Brandt's station.

Staring at her bent head, he needed
to ask, at least once. "Are you sure?"

Lifting her head, Sam stared straight
at him. Her eyes shone with tears. "I don't have any proof if
that's what you mean. But I saw him."

"You saw him?" Brandt leaned forward,
to search her face. "Are you sure?"

Sam got up and walked to where she
could stare out the window, her hair dangling down her back. "After
the crash, I couldn't move. The flames had just started to reach
the windshield. The seatbelt buckle had locked, my leg was broken,
and my collarbone had been dislocated."

She closed her eyes and leaned her
head against the cool glass. Tremors started at the base of her
spine and moved up. "He walked up while I was wrestling with the
straps." She paused, her breath coming out in shaky gusts. "I
pounded on the window and screamed for help. He laughed at me." Sam
swallowed. "There I was in total panic, thinking that help had
arrived and he..." she turned to face Brandt, "And he pulled out
his gun and pointed it at me through the window.

Brandt swore. Then swore again.
"Bastard."

"That he is." She stared at him, a
tiny smile on her face. "Thanks for believing me. That helps a
lot."

He snorted. "So what happened? Did he
actually shoot you?"

Sam shook her head. "No, or I
wouldn't be here. He just walked away. As he drove off, another man
– a retired firefighter – arrived. He shattered the glass on the
driver's door, unlocked it, cut my seatbelt strap, and dragged me
free." She walked over to Brandt and sat down again. "So yeah, to
answer your question – I am sure."

He watched her shorts ride higher on
her thighs, wishing she'd sit closer. His senses were awash in
'what ifs.' With a shudder, he stared off in the distance. Clearing
his throat, he asked, "Did you tell anyone?"

"No."
She snorted. "Who would I tell? He
was
the police."

Right. Brandt groaned and leaned
back. "God. What a mess." He ran his fingers through his hair. "The
bottom line is that this asshole is here now, and he's searching
for you."

"Right. Hence my question – did
bullets score Soldier's shoulder?"

"Christ." He stared at her, seeing
past the old fears and tough memories. She was a fighter, but
against a stacked deck, she'd run – until now. There'd be no
running now. She wasn't alone any more.

"Let me make some phone calls, see if
we've got anything on him yet. One of my team is running his
background."

Sam frowned.

"That means we can track him down and
have another talk with him. Adam did confirm that Brooker drives a
2004 Dodge truck – a black one."

She shuddered. "So it could have been
him on the highway." After a moment of contemplation, she shrugged.
"Not that it matters, he's not going to admit to anything. Why
would he? You'd need proof, like bullets or casing from tonight to
match to his gun."

"True, but if you recognized his
black truck..." he said, waiting and watching for her comprehension
to kick in. Her eyes opened wide as understanding filtered
in.

She frowned. "Yes, only how would he
know what vehicle I'm driving?"

"The same way we can find out about
his truck, run your name through DMV to find out what vehicle is
registered under your name." He glanced at her truck outside the
window. That thing should have been deep-sixed a long time ago.
Surely, it wouldn't pass a safety inspection?

"But he couldn't have known that it
was me on the road until he came right up to me."

Brandt considered that. "It's not out
of the realm of possibility, that's exactly what did happen. And
then he took advantage of an unexpected opportunity."

Sam wrinkled her face. "That's
horrible." She grimaced. "At least, he doesn't know where I live."
She chewed on her lower lip, her arms wrapped tightly around her
chest. "Then again, it wouldn't be that hard with his connections,
would it?"

Brandt tried not to watch as her
breast plumped out against her skin. "As much as I hate to even
suggest it, it's possible that he could have followed you, or even
me."

Sam's eyes opened wide. "That's a
horrible thought." She tilted her head, carefully considering him.
"He couldn't have followed me, I haven't been anywhere
today."

"No. Are you sure you lost the black
truck yesterday?"

Her eyes widened in horror. "Oh,
God."

He leaned forward gently
patting her on the knee. "Don't panic. We're working on it. As soon
as we have more information, I'll bring him in for a second and
more informative talk." Excusing himself, Brandt headed outside to
make the phone calls that would put things in motion. This needed
to be dealt with now. As did something else. Just as he was about
to walk out onto the porch, he called out, "Oh, yeah. I'll also be
sleeping here tonight."

***

8:22 pm

"You want what?" God, the last thing
Sam wanted to remember were other victims. She shook her head, hair
flying widely about. No. No way.

"Please. It might help."

She stared at him. He didn't know
what he asked. He couldn't. He'd gone outside to make his phone
calls after dropping his first bomb. Then he'd come inside and had
dropped a second one. The last remnants of her control fractured,
splintering apart. He'd asked for details on other visions. She
shook her head. This isn't how she'd imagined the
evening.

"I suppose this could be difficult
for you."

She half laughed, half cried. "You
think?" she said, her voice rising. "You have no idea!" She spun
away from him, her whole body shaking.