Delores Fossen - Drury

The shooter obviously didn’t have that concern because he fired off another round at Drury. Big mistake. Because he had to lean out from the garage, and Drury took the shot.

And hit the guy.

Not a kill shot, though. He must have hit him in the shoulder because the gunman took off running. A few seconds later, Drury heard the sound of an engine.

No.

He didn’t want this clown getting away. Drury had to find out why the heck he’d just tried to kill him.

A dark-colored SUV sped out from behind the garage. Not coming toward Drury. But rather the driver went on the other side of the house, through the yard and onto the road. Since there weren’t any houses at this angle, Drury emptied the clip into the SUV.

Drury was certain he hit the guy again, but he kept going, speeding away from the house. He was about to jump in his truck and try to go in pursuit, but then Drury saw Grayson’s cruiser approaching. Grayson was not only the sheriff of Silver Creek, but he lived the closest and that’s why Drury had texted him.

When Grayson reached Drury, he put down the window, and Drury saw he wasn’t alone. Grayson’s brother Mason was with him.

“Any idea who’s in that SUV?” Grayson asked.

Drury had to shake his head, but he lifted his arm to show them the fresh bandage. “Maybe a friend of the person who gave me this.”

“We’ll go after him,” Grayson said. “Keep watch. Make sure he doesn’t double back.”

Since Drury’s place was the first house on the road that led to the ranch, that wouldn’t be hard to do.

When Grayson drove off in pursuit, Drury had a look around the grounds. He didn’t see anyone else, though. And if his attacker had left any blood by the garage, the rain was washing it all away. That made it even more critical for Grayson to find him so Drury could get some answers.

He went to his back porch and cursed when he found the door unlocked. It was possible he’d just forgotten to lock it. Just as possible, though, that someone had broken in.

Especially after what’d just happened.

Drury got his gun ready and kicked open the door that led into his kitchen.

“Don’t shoot,” someone said.

A woman.

Because she’d whispered that order, Drury didn’t immediately recognize her voice, but he certainly knew who she was when she stepped closer.

Caitlyn Denson.

The kitchen was dark, but there was enough illumination coming from the hall light that he had no trouble seeing her long brown hair and her face.

And the blood trickling down her forehead.

Drury didn’t know what shocked him the most. The blood or that she was even there at all. They weren’t exactly on friendly terms and hadn’t been in a long time.

He had so many questions, and he wasn’t sure where to start. But his lawman’s instincts kicked in, and he checked her hands for weapons. Empty. And the pale yellow dress she was wearing was wet and clinging to her, so he knew she wasn’t carrying concealed.

Still, he didn’t lower his gun. He kept it aimed at her. And he maneuvered himself so he could watch out the large bay window in the living room while still keeping an eye on Caitlyn.

“I heard you’d built a house here on your cousins’ ranch, and your name is on the mailbox. I parked behind your barn,” she said, as if that explained everything.

It didn’t, not by a long shot.

“Did you have anything to do with that?” Drury tipped his head to the side yard where the shots had just been fired.

Caitlyn’s eyes widened for just a second, and a thin breath left her mouth. “I think he was here because he’s looking for me. I swear, I didn’t know he’d follow me.”

Well, it was an answer all right. But it only led to more questions. “You’re going to have to give me a better explanation than that. And start with how you got that cut or whatever the hell it is.” He grabbed some paper towels with his left hand and gave them to her.

She nodded and pressed the towels to her head. “I didn’t break in, by the way. The door was unlocked, but you should know that I would have broken in if necessary. I needed a place to hide.” She staggered, caught the back of the chair.

Drury cursed and went to her, holstering his gun so he could help her get seated and have a look at the wound that was causing her to bleed all over his kitchen floor. His stomach knotted when he saw the wound close-up.

“Did someone club you on the head?” he asked.

Caitlyn nodded, lightly touched the wound and grimaced when she saw the blood on her fingertips. “I’m not certain who did it. I didn’t get a look at his face. But it could have been the same man who shot at you.”

And if so, the thug had come to finish what he’d started, and Drury had gotten caught in the middle. Caught only because she’d come here. But why?

“You’re sure you don’t know who he is?” Drury pressed.

Even though he didn’t spell it out, she obviously got what he meant. Was this connected to her late husband, Grant Denson? Grant had been dead for nearly two years now, but he’d been involved in some nasty illegal stuff when he was alive that might now have come back to haunt Caitlyn.

Of course, when you sleep with snakes, you should expect to get bitten.

Was that what had happened now?

“I honestly don’t know the man’s name,” she explained. “But I know why he’s after me.” Her voice broke, and a hoarse sob tore from her mouth. “God, Drury, I’m so sorry. I didn’t have anywhere else to go, and I didn’t think he’d come here.”

All right. That got his interest. Because she had a mother-in-law, Helen, who was loaded, not just money-wise but with all sorts of resources, including but not limited to thugs who could take care of the person who’d clubbed Caitlyn on the head.

“Start from the beginning,” he demanded.

Caitlyn didn’t exactly jump to do that, but she did nod again and then took a couple of seconds to gather her breath. “The year before Grant was killed, we were trying to have a baby, and we went to the Conceptions Fertility Clinic in San Antonio.”

Everything inside him went still. He was well aware of the clinic because of the shady things that’d happened there just a month earlier. Specifically, embryos had been stolen and implanted in surrogates so that the former clinic manager could then “sell” the babies to the biological parents.

Ransom, extortion and black-market babies all rolled into one. Nasty business.

“All the babies were recovered and given to their parents,” Drury reminded her.

Caitlyn paused a heartbeat. “Not all.”

“Are you saying...?” But he stopped. “What the hell are you saying?”

“Day before yesterday I got a call from a man who said a surrogate had given birth to mine and Grant’s daughter and that if I wanted the child, then I’d have to pay him a million dollars. He sent me a swab with the baby’s DNA, and I had it analyzed. The man was telling the truth.”

DNA could be faked. So could test results.

“And?” Drury questioned. “How did you get Grant’s DNA to do a comparison?”

“From a comb I found in his things that I’d boxed up.”

Drury made a circling motion for her to continue.

“I arranged payment, draining nearly every penny from Grant’s estate, but when I went to get the baby, she wasn’t there. Instead, the man demanded even more money.”

Drury groaned. “Let me guess. They told you not to go to the cops or that you’d never see her again?” He waited for her to confirm that with a nod. “That’s what criminals tell marks like you. Hell, they might not even have the baby. Or there might not be a baby at all. Even if the DNA appears to prove it’s your child, they could have gotten the DNA from an embryo sample stored at the clinic.”