Sniper Fire (Love in the Crosshairs) (11 page)

He stepped back as she walked toward him, allowing her out of the washroom. “Fine, that’s fine. Oh, and be careful when you go home tonight. I’m sending my deputies out to warn all the mountain residents to be sure and lock their doors and watch for Craddoc. With that bullet wound, he won’t be able to make it far on foot. Might try to break in somewhere, maybe steal a vehicle.”

“Good idea,” Farrah said. “But aren’t you forgetting that I don’t live on the mountain anymore?” Not that she didn’t like the mountains, but she’d bought a house on the flattest piece of ground she could find in the valley the moment she graduated medical school. The mountain terrain of North Carolina was heartbreakingly lovely. That didn’t mean she wanted to brace herself to keep from rolling down into a gully every time she stepped outside her door. As far as she was concerned, a flat yard was a little slice of heaven.

His firm lips slid into a teasing smile. “That’s right, you’re practically a city girl now, aren’t you.”

She gave a soft laugh. If that were true, her office would be in Asheville or Charlotte instead of downtown Clear Springs. No, she had too many good memories here, too many good friends, to ever want to leave the small town she called home.

Her thoughts turned to the two friends she’d miss the most if she ever left Clear Springs for good. Not that she saw them that much anyway. Joshua and Kyle stayed on the go…or they had. The pair had taken to life in the military like she’d taken to medicine. The incident in Egypt proved they ate, drank, and breathed guns and violence, thriving on the dangerous missions that took them from home for weeks, often months, at a time. The few times she’d tried talking them into giving up such hazardous careers, they’d both laughed at her. Well, neither one was laughing now. She hadn’t seen either man since that horrible night they’d all barely escaped with their lives.

“Heard anything from Kyle?”

Farrah didn’t answer the sheriff right away, wondering how he knew what direction her thoughts had taken. Was she that transparent? Walking down the hall, she glanced into the treatment room she and Penwell had just left, noticing in approval that her assistant, Mary, had already cleaned up and readied it for their next patient. She entered her office at the end of the hall and sat at her desk before answering. “No, but I heard from Joshua. Kyle left the VA hospital in DC and is supposedly on his way home.” She forced a smile before looking away from Penwell’s sharp gaze. Kyle had left all right, as in walked out without saying a word to anyone. Stubborn man! That wouldn’t have worried her, except he hadn’t said anything to Joshua either. Nothing except for a two word note left on his hospital bed that said, “Going home.”

When Joshua had called that morning to ask her to keep an eye open for Kyle, she’d heard the pain in his voice. Those two were like brothers. Arm-in-arm, they’d grown up doing everything together, their lives following the same path. Same hobbies, same classes in school, same branch of the military. Which was the problem, wasn’t it? With Kyle’s discharge due to his injury, he and Joshua were traveling separate roads for the first time in their lives. Hard not to wonder if Kyle’s road would bring him home for good.

****

It wasn’t until Farrah locked up her clinic for the night that she recalled she couldn’t go straight home. Not that she was about to complain. She always drove up the mountain every Wednesday to check on Joshua’s house when he was away. Usually her visits involved nothing more than a walk through the multi-level home to check for broken windows or leaking faucets, followed by a quick dusting of the furniture. Hardly an arduous task, but it did have its perks.

She slipped into her car, started the engine, and flipped the A/C to high. The weather for the past several weeks had been hot and dry. Rain was scarce this summer, the lack of moisture crisping grass and trees and causing the temperatures to hover on the edge of triple digits. Just thinking of Joshua’s spring-fed pool caused Farrah to shiver with anticipation.

Half an hour later, she pulled to a stop in the small front yard of a quaint little cabin. She braced herself before opening the door and stepping out of the relatively cool car. Heat engulfed her. Despite the sun having set more than an hour ago, it was still uncomfortable. Sweat beaded her skin before she’d taken a dozen steps. Blotting her brow on her sleeve, Farrah forced herself to stick to her routine. She walked the exterior of the cabin first before heading to the steps carved into the cliff at the back. The luring gurgle of flowing water drew her down. She took the steps carefully, not wanting to risk a fall so close to her goal. As soon as her feet touched the wide stone balcony, she headed for the center point which overlooked the tear-drop shaped pool below.

Farrah gazed down at the shadow-laced patio area. She could barely make out the shape of the pool, but she could hear the gently lapping water. Even in the dry season, Joshua’s spring flowed clear and clean, straight from the heart of the mountain.

She looked up. Clouds crept slowly across the sky, their dry husks still thick enough to block starlight and moonlight both. She’d have to turn the lights on before indulging in a swim. Animals sometimes wandered in for a drink, lured by the sound and smell of fresh water, like her. She didn’t want to chance any surprises.

Anxious to feel the cool water on her skin, she turned, her steps taking her past a patio table on which sat a potted fern. Even in the shadowed night, she could tell the leaves were drooping. She’d given the lacy plant to Joshua the last time he was home. Something to make his manly refuge a little less austere. The look on his face as he had held the pot at arm’s length made both her and Kyle laugh. Maybe she should just give up and take the poor thing home?

“Be right back with a drink,” she said to the plant, moving to the sliding glass doors set into the two-story high wall of tinted glass. After punching in the security code, she tried to slide the door back. For a moment, she thought she’d gotten the code wrong, but the latch functioned just fine. It was the door that wouldn’t budge. She pulled at it a couple more times. When it finally moved, the loud grating sound it made ran like chalk-board scratches down her spine. She winced. Something must have happened to knock the track out of line, though she couldn’t imagine what. The darn thing had worked fine last week.

Gritting her teeth, she shoved a little more until the opening was wide enough for her to slip through. Instead of struggling with it again, she decided to leave the door open until she left. The extra heat would kick Joshua’s air conditioner on that much faster, something else she liked to check each visit. With a sigh of appreciation, she stepped into the huge living area with its high, vaulted ceiling. The space was luxurious, or would be when it was finished. Right now, the wide marble fireplace built into the right wall lacked a mantel, and the floating staircase leading up to the second level looked like a scattering of wooden planks and metal bars frozen in mid-fall. A recliner and a pair of comfy couches in matching chocolate brown leather were the only signs someone lived here—that, and the faint glow of night lights coming from the kitchen and dining area to the left.

Farrah ran her hand over the back of one of the couches as she made her way to the kitchen. She usually overrode the lighting set by Joshua’s automatic system, but tonight, the dimness suited her. She pulled a pitcher from under the sink, thinking, like she did every week, that she really needed to pick up a lighter, plastic model next time she was in town. The one Joshua had, reminded her of a thick ceramic coffee mug on steroids. Heavy steroids. After filling the pitcher with water, she lugged it back outside to water the fern. The dirt was so dry, the water just puddled on top, spilling over the edge of the pot. Instead of standing there waiting for it to soak in, she decided to get on with her routine and finish watering the plant later. She left the pitcher on the table and slipped back into the house. The sooner she finished, the sooner she could cool off in the spring-fed pool below.

****

Kyle paused his painful walk as soon as he caught the faint glow of light from Joshua’s house through the trees. He leaned a hip against a convenient boulder to take the pressure off his leg while wiping the layer of sweat off his face. Not for the first time he cursed the piece-of-shit rental truck he’d grabbed on his way out of DC. Damn thing hadn’t liked the mountain roads at all, deciding to overheat just a mile short of his goal. He could have walked that mile on the nice, fairly-level road, but the path through the woods was shorter, he reasoned. A little hike to stretch out leg muscles cramped tight from sitting too long had seemed like a good idea at the time. After all, it had worked before. Of course, those walks had been short trips up and down an air-conditioned hospital hallway, not almost a thousand yards of hot, uneven trail he could barely see. Uphill at that!

Easy to blame the bad judgment call on exhaustion. Seven hours of steady driving with only a couple of stops for gas was enough to mess with anyone’s mental faculties. Add the aches and pains from his ruined leg and, well, maybe Joshua was right. He wasn’t thinking straight. Hadn’t been for the past eight months. But damn if he was going to admit it by turning around. Not with his goal in sight. Time to finish this hellish side trip.

He shifted his grip on the round top of his cane and pushed away from the tree. He’d fought against using the blasted walking stick when Joshua had first brought it to him. Now he was grateful for the extra stability. Especially since he could barely see where he was going. He stumbled and caught himself for the hundredth time just as the trail opened up. Damn it, even the weather was against him. Clouds blocked the moon and most of the stars, leaving him still feeling his way. You’d think with all those cumulous
whatevers
up there that there’d be a bit of cooling rain in the making. One sniff, however, told him he was shit-out-of-luck. Instead of the scent of rain, all Kyle could smell was dry, brittle earth.

The hot odor tightened like a band around his chest. Dry, hot air. Dust and sand all around.

Memories poured in, threatening to send his mind back to that damned doorway in Cairo.

The place where his life was altered beyond recognition.

Desperate to hold the depressing thoughts at bay, Kyle reached out and stripped some pine needles from a branch, ignoring the prickle against his palm when he crushed them in his hand. Lifting them to his nose, he closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. The sharp tang grounded him, brought him to the here and now. He was home, not in Egypt. Home. Where thick green forests covered the mountains and rushing streams tumbled down hillsides.

Well, normally the streams would be rushing. Lately only the larger rivers were still rushing along, the smaller streams reduced to meandering. He opened his eyes and let the dry, broken needles fall to the ground. North Carolina wasn’t the only state suffering from a dry spell. Several small forest fires had already broken out all through the south east, though thankfully none had been near Clear Springs. He hated the thought of one sweeping through the valley. The damage would be devastating.

Kyle limped on, crossing the last few steps to the wide slate patio surrounding Joshua’s prized pool. He wasn’t sure why he’d decided to stop by Joshua’s house first instead of driving straight to his own place. His friend wasn’t home. Wouldn’t be home for a long while, based on Kyle’s last glimpse of the Nighthawks’ schedule. Maybe it was because Joshua’s place had always been a rally point for the Hawks when they were in the area. A place where they ate, drank, and talked freely, reminiscing about old missions and planning new ones. A place where he belonged.

He slowly shifted his gaze from the patio and pool to the wall of dark glass rising above. Here he was, clutching at the last connection to a life he’d never belong to again. How pathetic.

****

It didn’t take long to check the faucets and run a dust rag over the tables and counters. Still, by the time she was done, sweat had plastered Farrah’s blouse to her skin and tiny trickles of moisture ran through her scalp, making it itch. She stripped in the downstairs bathroom, hanging her sweaty blouse and jeans on a towel bar to dry. Usually she brought a swim suit with her to Joshua’s, but the Sheriff’s early morning gunshot had scrambled her routine, and she’d rushed out of the house without one. Farrah eyed herself in the full length mirror. Her dark blue bra and panties would make a reasonable substitute for a suit. They were already soaked anyway. It was the thought of putting her clothes back on over wet underwear afterwards that made her pause.

No one was around to see. Why not go naked?

Farrah tapped a finger against her lips. The thought was definitely intriguing.
No one is here
.
There’s no one to see if you decide to act a little out of character.

She stared into the eyes of her reflection. Out of character was right. She’d never been one to take crazy chances. That was Josh and Kyle’s forte, not hers. Back in school, she’d been the voice of reason in their little trio. The one always advocating caution and urging sanity—not that it helped much. When Josh and Kyle got together, there was usually no stopping them. Even now, she could almost hear them egging her on.

Come on, Farrah, loosen up a little. Life isn’t all school and work, you know. Be spontaneous for a change!

A slow grin took possession of her lips. She snapped the waistband of her panties. They’d never believe she would take their advice like this.

Before she could talk herself out of it, Farrah hurriedly slipped off her clinging underwear. Truth was, swimming in the nude was something she’d always secretly wanted to do. Just the thought of how the water would feel sliding against her most intimate bare skin made her feel positively naughty.

Still grinning, she snagged a towel off a shelf, flipped off the light, and headed out of the bathroom. Halfway through the shadowy living area, she froze. Something moved outside on the balcony steps. Farrah strained to make out the shape in the flat darkness. Few animals explored farther than the patio below, though she’d startled a bear off the steps once. She clutched the towel tight to her chest as the shadow moved again, rising in a jerky motion. Farrah’s heart jumped, its pace doubling as a head and limbs became discernible from the bulk of a large body. A human body. Male. Moving with a definite limp.