Strangers in the Night Read online

  Even as he had the thought he heard the shot, a deep report that boomed out over the water and was easily audible over the sound of the outboard motor. Shotgun, he thought. He eased up on the throttle and reached for the Kevlar vest, slipping it on and fastening the Velcro straps. Then he shoved the throttle down again, the boat leaping forward in response.

  Fifteen seconds later the house was in sight, taking form dead ahead of him, just as Jo had said. The river seemed to end right there. The house was built of old, weathered wood that blended into the tall trees surrounding it, but in front of it was a short dock with an old flat-bottom tied to it, and that was what he saw first.

  He had to back off the power to bring the boat into the dock. He reached for his shotgun as he did, holding it in his left hand as he steered the boat. “This is Sheriff Brody!” he bellowed. “Thaniel, you stop whatever the hell it is you’re doing and get your ass out here.” Not the most professional way of speaking, he supposed, but it served the purpose of announcing him and letting Thaniel know his identity wasn’t a secret.

  But he didn’t really expect things to settle down just because he was there, and they didn’t. Another shotgun blast boomed, answered by the flatter crack of a rifle.

  The shots were coming from the back of the house. Jackson nosed the boat toward the dock and killed the engine. He leaped out while the dock was still a foot away, automatically looping the mooring rope around one of the posts as he did so, ingrained training taking hold so everything was accomplished while he was in motion.

  He ran up the short dock, the thudding of his boots on the wood in time with the hard beating of his heart. The old familiar clarity swept over him, the by-product of adrenaline and experience. He’d felt the same thing every time he jumped out of a plane during airborne training. Lightning-fast, his brain processed the details he saw.

  The front door of the old wooden house was standing open, a neatly patched screen door keeping out the insects. He could see straight through to the back door, but no one was in sight. The porch looked like a jungle, with huge potted plants and hanging baskets everywhere, but there wasn’t any junk sitting around like there was at most houses, his included. He took with one leap the three steps up to the porch, and flattened himself against the wall.

  The last thing he wanted was to get shot by the very person he was trying to help, so he repeated his identity. “This is Sheriff Brody! Miss Jones, are you all right?”

  There was a moment of silence in which even the insects seemed to stop buzzing. Then a woman’s voice came from somewhere out back. “I’m fine. I’ll be even better when you get this jackass off my property.”

  She sounded remarkably cool for someone who was under attack, as if Thaniel was of no more importance than the mosquitoes.

  Jackson eased around the corner of the wide, shady porch that wrapped around three sides of the house. He was now on the right side, with thick woods both to the right and ahead of him. He couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary, not a patch of color or a rustling of bushes. “Thaniel!” he yelled. “Put your weapon down before you get your stupid ass shot off, you hear me?”

  There was another moment of silence. Then came a sullen, “I didn’t do nothin’, Sheriff. She shot at me first.”

  He still couldn’t see Thaniel, but the voice had come from a stand of big pine trees behind the house, practically dead ahead. “I’ll decide whose fault it is.” He edged closer to the back of the house, his shotgun held ready. He was safe from Miss Jones’s shots, for the moment, but Thaniel would have a straight bead on him if he chose. “Now do what I told you and pitch out your weapon.”

  “This crazy bitch will shoot me if I do.”

  “No, she won’t.”

  “I might,” came Delilah Jones’s calm voice, not helping the situation at all.

  “See, what’d I tell you!” Thaniel’s voice was high with anxiety. Whatever he had planned, it had gone sadly awry.

  Jackson swore under his breath, and tried to make his tone both calming and authoritative. “Miss Jones, where exactly are you?”

  “I’m on the back porch, behind the washing machine.”

  “Put down your weapon and go back inside, so I can have a little talk with Thaniel.”

  Again that little pause, as if she were considering whether or not to pay any attention to him. Accustomed to instant response, be it positive or negative, that telling little hesitation set Jackson’s teeth on edge. “I’ll go in the house,” she finally said. “But I’m not putting this shotgun down until that fool’s off my property.”

  He’d had enough. “Do as you’re told,” he said sharply. “Or I’ll arrest both of you.”

  There was another of those maddening moments of silence, then the back door slammed. Jackson took a deep breath. Thaniel’s whiny voice floated from the pine trees. “She didn’t put down the shotgun like you told her to, Sheriff.”

  “Neither did you,” Jackson reminded him in a grim tone. He eased to the corner of the house. “I have a shotgun, too, and I’m going to use it in three seconds if you don’t throw down that rifle and come out.” The mood he was in, it wasn’t a bluff. “One … two … th—”

  A rifle sailed out from behind a huge pine tree, landing with a thud on the pine-needle-cushioned ground. After a few seconds, Thaniel slowly followed it, easing away from the tree with his hands up and his face sullen. A thin rivulet of blood ran down his right cheek. The wound didn’t look like anything from a shotgun, so Jackson figured a splinter must have caught him. The tree trunk sported a great raw gouge level with his chin. Miss Jones hadn’t been shooting over Thaniel’s head; she had been aiming for him. And, from the look of that tree, she wasn’t shooting bird shot.

  Immediately the back screen door popped open and Delilah Jones stepped out, shotgun held ready. Thaniel hit the ground, braying in panic. He covered his head with his hands, as if that would do any good.

  God, give me strength, Jackson prayed. The prayer didn’t do any good. His temper shattered and he moved fast, so fast she didn’t have time to do more than glance at him, certainly not time to react. In two long steps he reached her, his right hand locking around the barrel of her shotgun and wrenching it out of her hands. “Get back inside,” he barked. “Now!”

  She stood as rigid as a post, staring at Thaniel, paying Jackson no more mind than if he hadn’t been there at all. “You’re dead,” she said to Thaniel, her voice flat and calm.

  Thaniel jerked as if he’d been shot. “You heard her!” he howled. “She threatened me, Sheriff! Arrest her!”

  “I’m of a mind to do just that,” Jackson said between clenched teeth.

  “I didn’t threaten him,” she said, still in that flat, monotonous tone. “I don’t have to. He’ll die without me lifting a finger to help.” She looked up at Jackson then, and he found himself caught in eyes the dark green of a woodland forest, watchful, wary, knowing eyes.

  He felt suddenly dizzy, and gave a short, sharp jerk of his head. The heat must be getting to him. Everything kind of faded, except her face at the center of his vision. She was younger than he’d expected, he thought dimly, probably in her late twenties when he had expected a middle-aged, reclusive country woman, bypassed by modern inventions. Her skin was smooth, tanned, and unblemished. Her hair was a mass of brown curls, and her shorts stopped north of mid-thigh, revealing slim, shapely legs. He inhaled deeply, fighting off the dizziness, and as his head cleared he noticed that she had gone utterly white. She was staring at him as if he had two heads.

  Abruptly she turned and went inside, the screen door slamming shut behind her.

  Jackson took a deep breath, gathering himself before turning back to the problem at hand. He propped her shotgun against the wall and cradled his on one arm as he finally turned his attention back to Thaniel.

  “Son of a bitch!”

  Thaniel had taken advantage of his splintered attention. The ground where he had lain was bare, and a quick glance told Jackson the rifl