Angela Ruth Strong - Presumed Dead

She huffed but turned back toward the computer to log in to her files at work. “I’m going to look at this again later.”

“Fine. For now, let’s try to rule everyone else out before we focus on Denise,” he suggested. Planting a bomb was not the logical next step up from stealing a boyfriend. “What cases have you lost in your career?”

Holly scanned the digital files. “Just a few. Dante Scott. The basketball player accidentally hit a kid who was running out in the street to catch up with a bus. Guilty of manslaughter. The jury was just trying to make an example of him to all the other pro athletes who think they can get away with crimes.”

Preston knew that case well, as did the entire country. It said a lot about her success in law that she’d represented the professional athlete.

He lowered into the seat next to her. “He got out of prison early for good behavior, didn’t he? I’ll look him up.” The man’s alibi would be easy enough to check. He couldn’t go anywhere without the press following. “Next.”

Holly scrolled down the list on the screen. “Madeline Carpenter claimed her twin committed the robbery, but we couldn’t prove it. She’s still in prison. You think she could hire someone to kill me from prison?”

“Possibly. We can check the inmate calling records to know for sure. Next.”

“Taylor Everingham. He smuggled drugs over the border, but only because his wife’s life was being threatened by a drug lord. They still found him guilty.”

Preston leaned forward and gnawed on a fingernail. “Would he kill you if his wife’s life was in jeopardy?”

Holly twisted a wispy strand of hair at the base of her neck. “Possibly. But he’s still in jail, too.” She leaned against her seat back, rubbing her hands together. “That’s it. Do we go after Denise now?”

“We can. Or we can check out families of victims who were upset when you got a client off.” Nothing rang true for him so far. There had to be someone more familiar with explosives. Someone with more of a motive.

“If that’s what you want to research, we’re going to be here all night.” Holly tilted her head and smiled sweetly. “Can we go pick up some dinner first?”

Preston looked down to avoid smiling in return. She did not ask him out. She was asking him to feed her. Which was a good thing. If she’d been asking him out, he would have had to say no. “I’ll call in an order of ribs.”

She rested her elbow on the countertop and her chin on her fist. “Remember that time Dad was grilling ribs and a bear showed up, so we all had to hide out in the cabin, and dinner was burned to a crisp?”

Then their parents had brought them to Cedar Glen Lodge instead. “I remember. Bear or not, your dad always burned the barbecue.”

Holly chuckled. “I think it’s because he liked having an excuse to go out to eat so he could get out of dish duty.”

Preston couldn’t keep from smiling at her this time. He picked up the lodge phone to order from room service, as well as to distract himself from continuing down the path to memory lane. It took a moment for him to snap out of the past and realize there was no dial tone.

He pressed the receiver button a couple times. Still nothing.

The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. While he’d been reminiscing, someone had cut the phone line.

The lights remained on. The internet stayed connected. But if someone wanted to hurt Holly, Preston needed to get her out of there. Back to her cottage so she could call the police.

“Holly,” he whispered as he rose. He motioned for her to follow him.

The game room stood empty now, which could be good or it could be bad. Good because he didn’t want anyone else to get hurt. Bad because being in a public place might have kept them from getting hurt.

He scanned the area for a bomb. But a bomb wouldn’t warrant cutting phone lines. If there was really someone trying to kill Holly, the goal would be to get to Holly before she could get help.

She joined him. “What—”

He held a finger to her lips.

She frowned at him, then scanned the empty room. “What are we doing?” she whispered this time.

He couldn’t look at her. Couldn’t see the fear his words would cause. He’d be better off keeping his eyes open for the enemy. “The phone lines are down. We’re going to get you back to your room, where you can call the police.” As long as her room line still worked.

Holly’s hands reached for his arm as she trailed after him. Fingernails dug through the sleeve of his sweatshirt. “You think someone still wants to kill me?”

That was what he’d been trying to tell her. Maybe now she would listen. He pressed her back into the wall beside the front door. He’d check their surroundings first, before they charged into the open.

She froze in place as he gripped the doorknob. Her fingers refused to let him go. That was fine. He wasn’t going far.

He cracked the door open, squinting as the sinking sun momentarily blinded him. It was a gorgeous and peaceful day. Maybe he was being paranoid.

Pop.

Wood splintered next to his face from a slug.

He slammed the door closed. Twisted the flimsy little lock.

“What happened? What are you doing?”

Thankfully, the thick, log walls would keep out any more bullets. But the windows wouldn’t. They couldn’t keep people out, either.

Preston pried Holly’s fingers off his arm. “Down. Crawl. Back to the computer room.”

“Why? I don’t under—”

Glass shattered from the window frame and tinkled to the tile floor.

Holly crouched and took off over the shards, toward the other side of the building. Preston followed.

The enemy wasn’t holding back. An enemy that wanted Holly dead so badly they were willing to take out Preston in the process. Hopefully, there was only one shooter. And hopefully, whoever it was hadn’t realized that the game room also included a computer room with internet access.

“Are those bullets? Are we being shot at?” she yelled back over her shoulder.

“Yes.” He slammed the door to the smaller room and barricaded it with a chair under the knob. “Get online and contact the police. I’m going to keep the shooter away from you.”

Holly logged in to the internet from a kneeling position. “I don’t think it’s Denise anymore,” she said, trying to use logic to make sense of a life-and-death situation.

No. This was not a crime of passion. This was a premeditated attack. “I don’t think so, either.”

“911. What is your emergency?” The voice echoed over computer speakers.

“We are being shot at.”

We? Did she just say “we”? Preston craned his neck around to send her a warning look.

Holly covered her mouth, eyes wide.

“Have you been shot?” the voice asked.

“No. No. The door is locked. I’m inside the computer room at Cedar Glen Lodge.”

“Police are on their way. Has anyone been shot?”

Preston splayed his hands as if he could feel the handcuffs. Unless Holly did some quick damage control, he’d soon be wearing them soon.

Or he’d be dead.

The door vibrated as a body slammed into the other side.

FOUR

Holly’s heart thumped as loudly as the thudding on the other side of the door. Would the chair keep the shooter out? As if having the same thought, Preston pressed his body against the door, as well.

Help, Lord. Maybe she should help. Adrenaline coursed through her veins, making her limbs feel strong and shaky at the same time. She dashed toward the door to keep the enemy out.

“Miss? Has anyone been shot?”

Oh, the emergency operator. She darted back. “No.”

The door bulged again.

Holly’s heart jumped. Would the enemy bust through? Would this be her last moment on Earth? Would her parents have to mourn her death the way they’d all mourned Preston? Her heart ached for them.