Night Prey (5 page)

The bike jerked across the uneven path heading up
an incline. Jenna slipped back on the seat, nearly falling off. She wrapped her arms around Keith's waist to stay on. His gloved hand patted hers. They lurched down the mountain until the path grew smoother.

He pulled onto a dirt road and increased his speed. Jenna glanced behind her. She couldn't see any headlights, but that didn't mean they weren't being followed. She held on even tighter to Keith, pressing against his back. Keith angled the bike into a curve. Despite the fact that he was a risk taker, she was sure he knew his limits. In all their cross-country treks as kids, he had never wrecked a bike. True, he was a daredevil, always had been, but there was something measured and calculating in every daring thing he did. She was safe on this bike. The only thing that had ever scared her about Keith had been the drinking.

Keith's wavy hair stuck out from beneath the helmet. She was tempted to touch the soft curls. She rested her chin against his shoulder as her eyelids grew heavy. The muffled rumble of the dirt bike motor surrounded her. Her arms relaxed. She closed her eyes and rested, still aware of the movement of the bike. When Keith leaned into a curve, she leaned with him.

He brought the bike to a stop by the farmhouse. The sky had turned from black to gray. Still enveloped in the insulating bubble the ride had created, Jenna sat up straighter. She pulled her arms free of Keith, slipped off the bike and flipped up the visor. Cool morning air surrounded her.

Keith flipped up his visor. “One of us is going to have to call the sheriff.”

“I can do that. He's probably not at the center
anymore.” Their encounter in the canyon and being chased loomed in her mind, but the ride, being close to Keith, had made her less fearful.

Keith slipped off his helmet and ruffled his wild hair. “I don't know what to think about all this. I just know we have to put a stop to it.”

“If we
can
put a stop to it.” Her anxiety returned.

He stepped off the bike. “If all that has been happening is connected, it's too elaborate to be just teenagers.”

She couldn't think about this right now. It was all too much. “I have to get back to the center.” She wasn't looking forward to dealing with the aftermath of the break-in and the sheriff scouring for evidence. It had been a long night. Maybe she could catch a nap before she had to start another day. She shoved the helmet toward his stomach. “Thanks for the ride.”

“At least that part of the night was okay, huh?”

Jenna looked into Keith's almond-shaped gray eyes. She found herself wanting to get to know him better, which meant that even after all the years and all that had transpired, she still liked him.

“Jenna?” His eyes searched hers. The intensity of his gaze electrified the air between them. He turned his chin toward his shoulder, shifted the helmet in his hand and said, “That was a good ride.”

Somehow she had a feeling that was not what he had intended to say. “I'll tell the sheriff what we found. I don't know if it has anything to do with the shooting, the helicopter and the threat on my computer or not.”

“I think it does.” He lingered, kicking the dirt with
his motorcycle boot. “I'll let you know if I find out anything.”

“Let me give you my cell number.” Even before she had finished her sentence, she knew she was looking for an excuse to see him again. She had to stop this. She couldn't hope for even a friendship with someone who was all closed doors and guarded secrets.

“I'll get a pen.” He bolted up the stairs to his place, but stopped halfway.

Jenna drew her attention to where he was looking. She halted at the base of the stairs. Her breath caught in her throat. A red smear across Norman and Etta's door spelled out the word. STOP.

A chill seeped through her skin as Jenna struggled to form the words. “Is that…is that blood?”

S
heriff Douglas raised an eyebrow when he saw Keith enter the station. No surprise there. Christopher Douglas had been a young deputy twelve years ago when Keith had caused so much trouble. Keith couldn't erase the prejudice some people in town had against him. In a way, he understood it. All he could do was show them that through his actions he had changed. But whether the sheriff believed that or not, Keith needed him to take this seriously.

The blood on the door had been the final straw for Jenna. Even though she put on a strong facade, he could tell she was rattled. Keith had decided to drive Jenna to the sheriff's office. No doubt, the men they had seen in the canyon had left the bloody warning. This was escalating fast, which only made his desire to get to the bottom of it even stronger.

The sheriff rolled his chair a few inches away from his desk. “Hello there, Jenna…and Keith.”

Keith held out a hand. “Sheriff.”

“Is this about the trouble up at Norman and Etta's place yesterday?” The sheriff's chair squeaked when he moved it back and stood up to shake Keith's hand.
“I'm headed out that way later today. Or did you want to talk about the break-in at the center, Jenna?”

“I'm afraid that things have gotten worse rather than better.” Keith filled the sheriff in on what they had seen in the canyon, and what had awaited them back at the house. He held up a baggie that contained a cloth with some of the blood on it. “Not only did we find evidence of trespassing, this was used to write a warning across my grandparents' door.”

The sheriff tugged on his mustache before picking up the baggie. He opened it, took out the cloth and sniffed. “I'll have my deputy take a look at the door when we go out.”

“Actually, we scrubbed it clean. I didn't want to upset my grandparents any more than I had to. We thought the blood sample would be enough.”

“You won't be able to file vandalism charges. All the same, this might be helpful.” The sheriff rested the bloody cloth in the plastic bag in his open palm. “I'll send it up to the state crime lab. Gonna take a while to process it. Nobody has reported a shooting. No one came into the emergency room.”

“I was thinking it was from an animal…not a person. Maybe an eagle.” Jenna shuddered. Keith placed a supportive hand on her back.

“Could be.” Sheriff Douglas set the blood sample down on his desk.

“Did you find anything at my place last night?” Jenna asked.

The sheriff laced his thick fingers together. “My deputy and I went all over the center and your house. Place is like a crime scene nightmare. Lots of fingerprints
and lots of footprints. We dusted your laptop and only found one set of prints, which is probably yours.”

Jenna crossed her arms. “So that was an exercise in futility.” Her voice swelled with frustration.

The sheriff held up a hand as if to stop her escalating emotion. “One thing concerned me. The way you described things happening made me think one person couldn't move that fast from your office to your house. My deputy and I reenacted what you said happened. We think one person distracted you with the mess in the center while somebody else was leaving the note on your computer.”

Jenna's face blanched. Fear flashed across her features. “Two people.” The pulse in her neck became visible. “In my house. And in the center.”

Keith leaned toward her. If it was that easy to break in, Jenna was not safe at the center. “Do you have a security system?”

She rested her palm against her forehead. “We're a nonprofit. It's on our wish list right after more cages and medicine.” Her voice trembled.

This was upsetting her. He had to get her out of here. He spoke to the sheriff. “We'll stay in touch. I'll inform my grandparents you are coming out there. You don't need to tell them about the door, but they need to know about the trespassers. Call us if you find anything.” He put light pressure on her back and guided her toward the door.

Once outside, Jenna crumpled as though she had been punched in the stomach. “I was okay last night, but now…” Her hand fluttered to her neck and she laughed nervously. “It…it just kind of hit me all of a sudden.
A least two people were in my house, touching my stuff and disturbing the birds at the center.” Her voice faltered.

Keith hadn't seen the layout of the whole rescue center, but she was vulnerable there living by herself if she didn't have a security system. “I suppose a watchdog is out of the question.”

“You mean your dog. He'd freak out the birds.” She combed her hands through her long hair, something she always did when she was anxious.

Her face still didn't have any color. He had to get her mind off this. “Look, neither one of us has had any sleep or food. I can solve one of those problems. What say I buy you breakfast?”

Jenna took in a deep breath and visibly relaxed. “Hunger might be part of what's making me feel so shaky. My stomach is growling.” She pointed up the street. “Nora's Corner is open at this hour.”

They walked the nearly empty street past the library. Even though the windows of the library were dark, Jenna's shoulder jerked when she looked in that direction. Her jawline tensed.

“Your father still work there?”

“Last I heard.” Her words were clipped.

“So I take it you don't see him very much?”

“Can we please leave my father out of any discussion?”

Keith opened the café door for Jenna, who gave him a dark look. “I see him when I need to see him.”

The café hadn't changed much in twelve years. The blue checked curtains looked new. If memory served, they used to be yellow. The Formica tables and vinyl
covered chairs were the same, just a little more worn. The scent of bacon and maple syrup hung in the air. A plus-size blonde waitress looked up from the newspaper she was reading at the counter.

“Take a seat anywhere. Be with you in just a minute.” The waitress grabbed the coffee pot and refreshed the cup of the only other customer, an old man wearing a baseball hat hunched over the counter.

Pots and pans banged and something sizzled on the grill in the half-visible kitchen. Country music spilled from a radio.

Jenna chose a table by the window. She glowered at him when he took a seat opposite her.

The waitress set two menus down on the table. “The blueberry pancakes are especially good today.” She drew out her pad from the front of her apron. “They come with your choice of bacon or sausage.”

“That sounds good. With sausage.” Keith pushed the menu toward the waitress.

Jenna's lips flattened and her forehead creased. She opened the menu. “I think I would like to see what else is available.” The waitress nodded and slipped away to give her more time. Jenna held up the menu, clearly using it as a barrier against him. Why was she so angry that he'd asked about her father?

If Jenna had chosen to stay around Hope Creek when she could have gone anywhere in the world, it must be because she still desired some kind of contact with her father. There was nothing else that would have kept her in town other than the need to be close to Richard Murphy, who had raised Jenna alone.

Jenna had been a free spirit, running around town in
the early morning hours and late into the evening. At noon on the dot, though, she dropped everything she was doing and raced to the library to eat lunch with her father. Keith had gone with her a few times. He had envied the lively conversation between father and daughter as they discussed whatever book they were reading together. What had happened to spoil that? He wanted to know, but she obviously didn't want to tell him.

“What looks good to you?” he asked, hoping to change the subject.

Jenna didn't respond. She lifted the menu even higher so it covered all of her face. He reached across the table and slowly pulled the menu down. The wounded look in her eyes nearly knocked him from his chair. He'd struck a nerve. He needed to back off about her father.

He offered her a faint smile. “If I remember correctly, you liked cold pizza for breakfast.”

She hunched her shoulders. “I don't think that is on the menu.”

“Guess you'll have to settle for French toast.”

“My second favorite thing.” A faint smile brightened her face, revealing the dimples. She put the menu down and leaned toward him. “You remembered.”

He was starting to think there was very little he had forgotten about her. He'd buried the details about her in some deep place, but her preferences in food, what she'd said and done on each adventure, the way she tilted her head to one side when she was thinking, it was all there. During the school year when he lived with his mom, he had had girlfriends. There had been women after he had
enlisted. But he would be hard-pressed to recall much about them beyond their names.

The color had returned to her cheeks. Her long brown hair fell softly around her heart-shaped face. He rested his elbows on the table and leaned toward her.

The waitress returned. “Have you folks decided?”

She looked up from the menu. “I think I will be daring and have the blueberry pancakes.”

“With sausage?”

“Bacon,” she said.

He raised a teasing eyebrow. “Always got to be different, don't you, Jenna Murphy?”

 

Jenna's heart fluttered at how easy it was for them to fall into their familiar banter. A lot of things were easy with Keith. The waitress walked away from the table.

Keith tossed a sugar packet at her and she zinged it back across the table. “So you think the sheriff will figure out what is going on up there?”

“He'll do his best.” The tension eased from Jenna's muscles when she realized Keith wasn't going to bring up the subject of her father again. “What do you think it is about, all those men and motorcycles and four-wheelers? Maybe some kind of smuggling?”

Keith shrugged. “A lot of drugs come into Montana from Canada.”

The waitress brought their meals along with the pot of tea they had ordered. Jenna hadn't realized how hungry she was until she took the first bite of pancakes slathered with maple syrup. Her mouth watered. Both of them ate quickly.

Keith shoved the final piece of sausage in his mouth. “Come on, it's been a long night for both of us.”

Jenna checked her watch. “The center will be opening in an hour.” She'd just have to go without sleep.

Keith opened the truck door for Jenna, and she slipped into the passenger seat. He eased onto the two-lane road looking straight ahead. She studied his profile. The prominent nose and the angled cheekbones had always made him appealing, but now there was something weathered and wise in his demeanor that hadn't ever been there before.

He turned to look at her. “What?”

Her cheeks warmed. He'd caught her staring. “Nothing, just keep your eyes on the road, all right, buddy?” She said with feigned bossiness. His gray eyes held a depth and a knowing that was different. She turned away and stared out the window as the fields and forests clipped by.

She was glad he had dropped the questions about her father.

Except to make sure he was alive, she hadn't spoken to her father since the emergency room trip a year ago. It had been an awakening for her and the letting go of a secret that she had kept for so many years.

Her father drank. When she lived at home, the drinking began at night after he got home from work while he took care of his birds, so Jenna stayed away. In the morning, he hated himself for drinking so much, so Jenna left the house early to avoid his bad mood. Lunch at the library had given her a brief window of solace. She had her warm and intelligent father back. If the library wasn't too busy, they would sit in the soft chairs by the
window, their feet touching while they both read. From time to time, one of them would read a passage out loud that they found funny or original.

As a kid, she had kept the secret without ever asking herself why. Maybe she had wanted to maintain her father's respectability. Embarrassment had been a factor. She'd feared too that the authorities might step in and separate her from her only parent.

She had started to see what a normal life was like when she moved away to college and didn't have to deal with her father's craziness every day. Then she had come back home, and the trip to the emergency room had been the final straw that told her things needed to change.

The emergency room people probably weren't gossips, but they had seen the damage Richard Murphy had done to himself over the years. That someone else knew the secret had given her the strength to find help for herself, to confront her father and tell him that she couldn't handle it anymore. Fine if he wanted to keep drinking, but it hurt too much to watch him slowly kill himself. Richard Murphy was never angry or abusive when he drank, he was just sad.

Keith pulled onto the gravel lane that led to the center. He focused on the road, arms relaxed as he drove. Guilt had risen up in her when he had asked her about her father. Maybe it wasn't right to limit contact. She had wanted to tell Keith, to explain, but she hadn't been able to. Sharing this part of herself was still new and never easy. It was even harder with Keith, since her fear of him becoming an alcoholic like her father was what had caused her to turn away from him all those years ago.

Her eyelids felt heavy. She rested her head against the
window. He brushed a hand over her hair with a touch as delicate as butterfly wings. Even though the road was gravel, Keith drove so the car didn't jostle very much. The fog of sleepiness filled her brain.

She felt the car come to a stop and heard Keith talking to Cassidy through the open window, but the heaviness of fatigue made her awareness fade in and out.

Her car door opened.

“Come on, sleepyhead.”

Her eyes burst open. His face was inches from hers. Keith smelled like the air after a cleansing rain. They were at her house.