Angela Strong - Presumed Dead

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.

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.