Angela Ruth Strong - Presumed Dead

Preston anchored his shoulder against the wood. He pushed his feet against the ground. His red face scrunched with exertion.

Another bulge. The chair underneath the knob crashed to the ground. Space between door and frame grew larger.

Holly charged. Together they could push the door closed.

The barrel of a gun appeared, followed by a hand.

She dug her toes into the floor harder. Leaned forward. Reached for the door to smash the shooter’s arm with the strength of her momentum. Almost there.

“Get down,” Preston shouted.

Holly ducked, but kept on going. She could slam the door closed from the bottom as well as she could from the top.

Pop.

Her arm flew backward. Her ears rung like a firework had exploded in her face. She blinked, trying to figure out if she’d made it to the door or not.

Someone called her name in the distance. Tile rushed up to meet her. She reached to catch herself, but the moment her left hand touched the ground, a searing pain shot up her biceps. Or was that her triceps? The pain grew to overtake both areas.

Had she been shot?

Blood dripped down to her fingers. Her blood. She sank to the ground, feeling nothing but the mangling of her flesh. It radiated through her whole body. Made her dizzy.

Had Preston been shot, too? The weight of her eyelids pulled her eyes closed, so she couldn’t find him. She tried to call for him but heard nothing except the low wail of sirens.

Police. Would law enforcement make it in time? Would she be okay? Would Preston?

Lord, please keep Preston safe.

* * *

Preston watched in horror as Holly sank to the ground. She’d been hit. It looked like a flesh wound. But still. He was there to keep her safe, and he’d failed.

With renewed strength, Preston pulled away from the door to ram his whole body back harder. The gun knocked against the wall. He’d caught the shooter’s arm. Good. Now the man couldn’t aim anymore. To keep him there, Preston would have to wait for police to arrive, and he’d be caught as well, but at least Holly would be safe from whoever was trying to kill her.

Oh, God, don’t let this guy get away.

Sirens rang in the distance. About time.

The gun thrashed in the shooter’s hand as the man realized he was about to be caught. Preston pressed harder to keep the owner pinned in place.

The hand stilled. Was he giving up?

The door arched, sending Preston stumbling away. He reestablished his balance and charged back into position. The door slammed tightly into the doorframe. He’d given the man enough time to pull his arm out.

Preston’s heart constricted. Not only had he let Holly get shot, but he’d let the shooter escape. He held his position until footsteps crunched over broken glass on their way out the front door. Then he lowered himself next to Holly and brushed a wisp of pale hair off her clammy forehead.

Sirens grew louder. Tires screeched. She’d be in good hands. Though the shooter had gotten away. Unless he chased the man down himself. Preston probably knew the area better than police.

“I’m sorry, Holly,” he apologized quietly before sprinting out the door.

* * *

Darkness. Heaviness. Throbbing. Voices.

Holly opened her eyes. She was alive. In the computer room and surrounded by emergency workers. Where was Preston?

Her heart lurched. She used her good arm to press herself to a seated position and scanned the room. “Where is he?”

An EMT pushed her chest back toward the floor. She twisted out of his grip.

Officer Shaw strode over. “He got away for now, Miss Fontaine, but we’ll find him.”

They’d find Preston? Oh no. The policeman was talking about the shooter. Preston must have escaped before police arrived. He was okay.

She sank to the floor. Thank You, Jesus.

“Hold still, ma’am. I need to clean your wound.” The EMT adjusted her arm with gloved hands and dabbed at the gash with some kind of cold liquid.

Holly gritted her teeth as the stinging increased. At least it looked better than it felt.

Shaw focused on her. “Glad you survived another attack. That was some quick thinking, using the internet to call for help.”

Holly closed her eyes. She wouldn’t have survived if not for Preston. Where had he gone? Would she ever see him again?

“So you propped the chair underneath the door and held off the gunman by yourself?”

Holly’s eyes flew open. She hated dishonesty, and she wouldn’t lie. She’d made that her policy from the very beginning of her law practice. But she’d also told Preston she would keep his existence a secret. What now, Lord? Her gaze zeroed in on a Bible most likely left at the lodge by the Gideons. That had to be a sign. God would want her to tell the truth.

“I wasn’t alone.”

Shaw followed her line of sight. “God was with you?” He harrumphed, then made a note in his notepad. “If there is a God who answers prayer, you’re certainly keeping Him busy today.”

Holly almost laughed. She’d been about to give Preston all the credit for rescuing her, but the policeman had thought she was talking about God. Maybe she should have been. God was the one who’d answered her prayers. He was the one who’d orchestrated events so Preston had seen the bomb being planted in her cabin earlier that day. God must have known this was going to happen back when they were kids. He’d brought them together to support each other.

Preston’s friendship and commitment had gotten her through a lot. Like when she’d lost the freestyle race at the state swim meet. And when she hadn’t gotten the scholarship to Stanford. And when she’d found out her best friend from high school had cancer. He’d been the one to suggest the polar plunge fund-raiser that had paid off Alexandria’s medical bills from chemo.

Had she ever been there for him like that? He’d always been so strong and capable. But now he wasn’t. He was nonexistent. And since she was the only one who knew he was still alive, she was the one who could offer him help.

The EMT dabbed her arm with gauze. “It’s just a graze. I’ll use some butterfly bandages to hold the wound together.”

Holly cringed. She’d fainted over a mere scratch? At least she wouldn’t have to go to the hospital and she could get her hands on a computer sooner to research Operation Desert Hope. Something bugged her about the online story she’d looked up. Something told her to look deeper. She just couldn’t put her finger on it.

“Here, ma’am. I think this will help.”

Holly waved away the pill and water cup. She just wanted these people to track down the bad guy and leave her alone. She had work to do. And she couldn’t do it with a fuzzy brain.

Officer Shaw bit at a nail. “Miss Fontaine, this has to be very scary for you. Until the person who did this is apprehended, I’m going to guard you around the clock.”

Holly squeaked. And not just from the way the EMT pinched her skin together. She wanted the police to find out who was trying to kill her so she could move on with her life. Move on with helping Preston get his life back. She needed Shaw to leave so she could do that.

“How long do you think that will take?”

Officer Shaw studied her. “You’ve got somewhere else you need to be?”

The irony. On what was supposed to be the biggest weekend of her life, she had nowhere to go and nobody who would miss her. “All I have is canceled plans.”

“I’m sorry, Miss Fontaine. This wasn’t my plan for the weekend, either.”

“Shaw.” A short, redheaded woman in a business suit entered the overcrowded computer room carrying a clipboard. “We checked Brooks’s alibi. He was down at the yacht club the whole time.”

They still suspected Caleb? He could have been the voice on the phone, but since he’d never really loved her, having her cancel their wedding shouldn’t have been that big a deal. Preston hadn’t even suspected him. At least it was one more name they could cross off their list.