Angela Ruth Strong - Presumed Dead

“It wasn’t Brooks,” Shaw stated. “Deputy Young saw the perp sneaking out a back window but lost him in the woods. Caucasian. Six feet, one hundred and eighty pounds. Tan with medium-blond hair and a camouflage hoodie. Knows the area really well, too. Put out an APB.”

Holly gasped. Shaw had described Preston. He was after the wrong man.

* * *

Preston watched from up the mountain as the sun set and lights flicked on in the cabins below. He wiped sweat from his brow when an ambulance pulled away without Holly. She must be okay, but his stomach still churned at the idea she’d gotten hurt under his care. He wouldn’t make that mistake again. She’d be better off with police protection. The same officer who’d been at the bombing now walked her across the commons to her cabin. Looked like he planned to personally guard her.

From now on, Preston would keep a safe distance as he watched for the shooter to return. The man had disappeared before Preston could follow him, but that wouldn’t happen again.

If only they’d found a lead in Holly’s work files. Maybe the police department would have better results than he’d had.

Cop cars pulled away from the scene of the crime one by one. A couple plainclothes detectives stuck around to record evidence. Had Holly been able to keep his existence a secret this time around?

Preston shook his head to free himself from the fear of being discovered. The more pressing issue would be to discover whoever was trying to hurt her.

Was he right in believing the shooter to be related to a client from her past? Or was it just a random psychopath? Or perhaps he should look into Denise Amador as Holly had suggested. The other woman could have hired a hit man. That could have been her on the phone with the bomber.

Preston rubbed his temples. Time to sneak down to Holly’s cabin and wait outside a window for a chance to talk to her. He’d make sure she was okay after the bullet wound. And then he’d say goodbye. No matter how well they worked together or how good it was to see her again, his presence only complicated the situation.

After driving the old Chevy down the mountain and parking on the street, Preston made his way to Holly’s cabin. He hated having to leave her, and he hated how much he hated having to leave her.

He crouched down to avoid detection as he neared Cottage 19. He peeked through a window to find Officer Shaw in front of the television and Holly on the phone. Probably talking to her mom.

It had been years since Preston had talked to his own mom. The emptiness he’d once been used to now overwhelmed him like a tidal wave. Being with Holly, being known, had been a sip of water to a man in the desert. It wet his tongue, but made him realize how parched his throat had become. How would he survive if he had to head back out into the desert again?

Holly hung up. Spoke to Shaw. Turned toward the bathroom.

This was Preston’s chance. He crept toward the light that flicked on through a frosted pane, swallowed down emotions and tapped on the glass.

Running water stopped. He tapped again. The sill trembled as she unlocked the window. It slid open silently.

Holly’s face appeared. She squinted into the dark. “Preston? Oh, I prayed—”

He held a finger to his lips and pointed to the showerhead. She nodded, then disappeared for a moment. Pipes squeaked as the rush of water resumed. Now they could talk without being overheard.

She leaned toward him, her short blond hair illuminated like a halo from behind. “I’m so glad you’re okay, but I have to tell you, I don’t think I can keep your secret much longer. I almost revealed your existence to Officer Shaw earlier. And my mom knows something’s up.”

He’d requested she not tell police about him, but he hadn’t figured in Holly’s connection with her mother. And if Mrs. Fontaine found out, she would never be able to refrain from spilling it to Preston’s mom.

“I know it’s difficult. That’s why I have to disappear.”

“What?” Too loud.

He held a finger to his lips again and tensed, waiting for Officer Shaw to come charging through the door. Sure enough. Footsteps.

“Miss Fontaine? Everything all right?”

Her glare told Preston she wanted to say no. “Yes, thank you,” she answered anyway.

“Good. I’m going to step outside to call my wife, but don’t worry, I’m not going far.”

“Okay.”

They waited for his footsteps to fade.

Holly rested a forearm on the sill to lower herself enough to look Preston straight in the eye. “You told me you would stick around until you knew I was okay.”

He sighed. This wasn’t an easy choice, and she wasn’t making it easier. “You’re safer with police, Holly. As much as I want to protect you, I’m just one man.”

“Officer Shaw is just one man.”

“He has a gun. And backup. You could have been killed today.”

She searched his eyes through the steam floating from the shower. “When will I see you again?”

He started to shrug, but the gesture fell flat. This wasn’t something he could shrug off. “After I figure out who sabotaged the helicopters.”

She leaned forward. Did she want to kiss him goodbye? Like the last time he’d said goodbye? It had been different when he’d left for his tour overseas. They’d had hope for a future together. A kiss now would break through the walls that kept his heart from hurting. And yet the touch of her lips to his might be what brought healing and kept him going. It had been so long since he’d made any good memories.

Her hands clamped down on his shoulders. She leaned all her weight into him. Definitely not the most natural position for a goodbye kiss. He rocked forward.

Her face lowered toward his. She grunted. “I’m coming with you.”

She hadn’t been trying to kiss him after all. She wanted to use him for balance to climb through the window. Her torso already hung halfway out of the cottage. Why did she have to be so tenacious?

“No, you’re not.” He gripped her ribs to push her back in.

“Ouch.” She pulled her injured arm to her chest.

He released her automatically to keep from hurting her any more. “You okay?”

“No, I’m not okay. You’re the only one who really knows what I’m going through, and you’re trying to leave.”

He stepped closer to the window to push her back in. “For your own good.”

She used his proximity to wrap her good arm around his neck. Was that the heat from the shower or her embrace that warmed his skin? “And for your good, I’m going to tell police everything.”

His insides burned. After all he’d done for her, she was going to hand him over to go to prison?

“Holly, please.” The whole world would turn on him. His parents would be harassed. That was, if they lived that long. Whoever had hanged Sergeant Beatty could also take out anyone else who might believe in Preston’s innocence.

Her eyes softened. “Even if I try to keep it a secret, it’s going to slip out. So take me with you. I can help prove you didn’t sabotage the operation. I’m a defense attorney, and I’m really good at my job.”

He wanted to believe she could help, but she was already in enough danger. He couldn’t ask her to sacrifice her future. That had to be his burden alone. “Holly—”

A pinecone skittered across the ground toward them. Preston’s muscles tensed. Was the shooter back? Had he just put Holly in the enemy’s crosshairs?

The blue light from a cell phone floated around the side of the house, followed by muffled cursing. The communication device flew to the ground. Officer Shaw stepped forward into the light from the living room window, fumbling for his gun. “Stop!”