Night Prey (11 page)

Keith stopped his truck at the first place he thought Jenna might release a bird. He jumped out of his truck and called her name. He hiked a couple hundred yards. No sign of her car. He'd have to keep working his way up the mountain.

By the time he was seated again behind the wheel, his heart was pounding a mile a minute. He could not bring himself to believe that something bad had happened to her…not now. Allowing that thought to come into his head would cause him to shut down completely.

When he had been in Iraq, his job as a combat medic required him to separate himself emotionally from the violence around him. He learned to process later. It was the only way a soldier could stay alive.

Where Jenna was concerned that was hard to do. Even more so now that he had found out something about her. Jenna's rejection from the night before had left him feeling vulnerable, so he had located an AA meeting in town. Richard Murphy, Jenna's father, had been at the meeting.

Richard had shared with the group that he'd been sober for eleven months—beginning about a month after Jenna had stopped talking to him. Richard had
left quickly after the meeting, only taking time to shake Keith's hand and tell him that he remembered him from years ago, but even their brief interaction had been enough to tell him volumes about why Jenna no longer spoke to her father—and why she'd turned away from him years before. If Richard Murphy had been drinking for all these years, that night twelve years ago made sense to him. His heart swelled with sympathy for Jenna. Of course his drinking scared her.

He took the anonymous in AA seriously. Without Richard's permission, he couldn't tell Jenna what he knew. The pain from last night's rejection had not gone away. His reaction to her voice earlier tonight told him that, but he saw Jenna in a new light now.

The truck wound up the rutty road, lurching over the bumps. The sky was dark gray the second time he got out to shout her name. Only the nighttime silence answered back. A mix of panic and despair spread through him. He had to find her.

He moved up the mountain at a slower pace, stopping frequently to study the landscape on either side of the road.

A car bumper entered the cones of illumination created by his headlights. Keith hit the accelerator and brought his truck alongside the vehicle. He jumped out of his truck. The car was a Subaru like Jenna's. He shone the flashlight into the windows. The contents of the car told him he had found Jenna's car. The doors and the hatchback on the car were shut but not locked. All four tires had been slashed.

He shouted her name, anxiety straining his voice. He stalked around the car making a wider and wider
circle. Jet followed close behind. Keith reached down and ruffled Jet's head.

Keith opened the passenger-side door of Jenna's car and searched for something that might contain Jenna's scent. He located a sweater under the back of the driver's seat. Keith brought the sweater to his nose. Yes, that was the sweet lilac scent of Jenna.

Jet was not a trained search and rescue dog, but it was worth a shot. He placed the sweater under Jet's nose. “Go find her, boy.”

Jet jerked up his head and barked but remained close to Keith. “Go find her.” He placed the sweater under Jet's nose again and then pointed. “Where is Jenna? Go get her.”

This time, the dog ran in the direction Keith pointed. The same thing he did when Keith was tossing the ball for him. Keith shook off the creeping sense of hopelessness. Jet was a smart dog. It might work.

He continued to widen his search circle, working his way out toward the trees, swinging his flashlight across the ground. Had someone taken Jenna?

Again, he had to swipe the idea from his brain. He was no good to anybody if he played the “what if” game. Logically, he knew that if she was around here and conscious, she would have answered by now…unless she was tied up…or worse.

Keith swung the flashlight over the tall grass. Nothing. He would search for her all night and into the next day if he had to. He was not going to give up easily.

Jet barked twice. Keith lifted his head. The trees were more shadow than discernible evergreens. Jet
bounded out of the trees, danced back and forth and then disappeared into the forest again.

Keith jogged in the direction Jet had gone. The dog's excitement could have been over a squirrel, but he had to check it out. As he got closer to the trees, he noticed an area where the ground was pressed flat as if something had been dragged over it. An icy cold washed over him.

His hesitation had put Jenna at risk. He would never let that happen again.

He ran faster. Keith saw a flash of bright pink. His light bobbed in his hand as he drew closer. He collapsed to his knees next to where Jenna lay on the ground, her legs twisted under her in an unnatural position.

Jet came back out of the trees. He licked Keith's face.

“Jet, go sit.” The dog set back on his haunches, but his back legs quivered with anxiety.

Keith touched Jenna's face. Still warm. The throb of a pulse pushed back on his fingers when his hand trailed down her neck.

He shone the light directly on her face. She moaned. Dried blood crusted on her forehead. He gathered her head in his arms to try to find the source of the bleeding. Fresh blood streamed down her temple.

He tore the sleeves from his shirt and pressed one of them against her temple. It darkened with blood. He placed the flashlight in his teeth and angled her head. She had been hit, hard enough to knock her out. Rage coursed through him for what had happened to her.

Keith tied the two sleeves together and wrapped the makeshift bandage around her head. The bandage
darkened. He pressed his face close to her lips. Her breathing was shallow, but still there. Keith lifted Jenna's eyelids, angling the light so it wouldn't shine directly in her eyes. It didn't look like her pupils were dilated. She hadn't jerked back when he shone the light in her face, so she was conscious but unresponsive. Keith stroked her forehead. Even though the color had left her cheeks she was as beautiful as ever. “Jenna, can you hear me?”

Come on, Jenna, answer me.

A
voice from very far away drifted into Jenna's awareness. What was going on? She felt like she was swimming through gelatin. The voice drew her upward. A deep bass voice whispered prayers. Was she dreaming?

“Please, God, let her be all right.”

Warm fingers touched her cheek. With great effort, she opened her eyes. Keith gazed down at her with gentle gray eyes.

“Hey, there.”

He had placed her sweater underneath her head. He'd taken such care with her. His prayer warmed her even more. Any man who would pray like that when there was no one but God to hear must have a deep faith. She tried to piece together what had happened. The moon above her told her that she was outside, but her brain felt fuzzy. What was the last thing she remembered?

She lifted her head, catching a glimpse of Jet who lay a few feet away.

Keith jerked. “No, don't do that.”

Pain shot through her head. She moaned and lay back down. The throbbing lessened if she held very still.

Jet whimpered and licked her hand.

“You got hit pretty hard.”

“Hit?” Ah, yes, now she remembered. “He must have come up here to get the stuff in that cache. The helicopter is for dropping the stuff.” She winced and touched her shoulder.

“He hit you there, too.” His touch on her shoulder was soft, but his voice was indignant at what had happened.

Jenna nodded. “I don't think it's bleeding, just bruised.”

“Did you get a look at him?”

She couldn't think straight. “Kind of?” She searched her memory. She had seen him just for a moment. When she tried to picture his face, she drew a blank. Her temple pulsated.

“Don't worry about it now.” His hand cupped her cheek. “I didn't want to move you in case there was additional injury. Can you feel your toes?”

She smiled. Now he was worrying too much. “Yes.” His fussing over her was kind of sweet.

“Your legs were twisted funny. That's why I asked.”

“He must have dragged me over here.” She lifted her hands, touching the bandage. Just one more way Keith had taken care of her.

Keith nodded. “I should have just come up here right away. Anytime that helicopter shows up, it's bad news.” His mouth grew into a tight line.

“I'm the one that said to meet me at the crossroads.” She grabbed his arm. “I'm just glad you came.” Her hand brushed over rough skin. He wasn't wearing long sleeves.

He jerked back, jumped to his feet and turned away from her.

“What happened to your arms?” She stared at his back.

“They're…scars.” He placed his hands on his hips. “It happened in Iraq. When my whole life blew up in my face.”

Somehow she had a feeling the scars were less about him being self-conscious and more about how they were a reminder of his life getting off course. No wonder he couldn't talk about the past. Despite the undulating pain, she lifted her head. Her heart swelled with empathy. “I have lots of scars, too. Most of which I got when we were out having our adventures.” She struggled to keep her tone light, teasing.

“This is different, Jenna.” He was still turned away from her.

“You got those in sacrifice to others…didn't you?” Her voice grew thick with sorrow for what he must have gone through. And she had thought the worst of him for covering his arms.

He bent his head, rubbing his forehead.

“I got my scars being stupid. Remember this one?” She sat up. The throbbing in her head made her eyes water. She lifted her pant leg. “I think this one happened when we were hiking. I collided with that sharp tree branch, remember?”

Keith remained with his back to her.

She rolled up her sleeve, brushing her hands over the area above her thumb. “I think this one happened when we built the tree house. I never was very good with a hammer.”

“Jenna, it's not the same.”

“I know.” With substantial effort, she pushed herself to her feet. She wobbled and planted her feet. She stepped unsteadily toward him. When she placed her open hand on his back, he didn't pull away. “Yours mean something.”

“I got off a lot easier than a lot of other guys. I'm still walking around.”

The heat from his back seared through her hand. What had this man been through? Guilt washed over her for all the suspicions she had harbored about him.

He hung his head. “What bothers me is that I have a memory of what my arms used to look like.” He turned slowly to face her. “That I used to be able to do things without pain.”

She rested her open hand on the hard muscle of his bicep. Maybe his self-consciousness hinted at a deeper scar. Her fingers skated his arm to the crook of his elbow. With a soft touch, she traced his scar down his forearm to his wrist. With her other hand, she touched the other scar. “This doesn't bother me.” She tilted her head. “It doesn't bother me at all.”

 

Jenna's clear warm eyes held him in place. He searched for some indication that she was lying, just to make him feel better. The last thing he wanted was her pity. Her expression and the magnetic pull of her eyes communicated sincerity. Her fingers fluttered over his scars as light as wind. Her complete acceptance of him despite physical flaws caused him to let his defenses down. Her touch sent a charge of electricity straight
through his skin to the marrow of his bones. With the back of his fingers, he traced the outline of her jaw.

He leaned closer, wanting more than anything to kiss her. But the memory of last night haunted him. He hesitated.

Jenna let out a gasp and stepped closer to him. Her hand rested against his chest. She locked him in her gaze. In her eyes, he saw that she would not hurt him…not like before.

He bent his head, brushing his lips over hers and then pressing harder. His hand trailed down her neck as she melted against him.

He pulled away. “I think I have wanted to do that for twelve years.”

“Twelve years?”

“Never mind.”

“I know what you are talking about. That night, right before your arrest. I was a brand-new Christian. My faith was fragile—everyone was telling me you were bad news. And the way you'd been acting all summer… You scared me.”

He doubted that was the whole reason. “I see that now.” He understood more than he could say. She had been so afraid that night twelve years ago because his behavior reminded her of her father. What was keeping her from sharing about her father now?

He longed to ask her more about her father…to say what he knew, but that would have to wait. How long had her father had a drinking problem? His heart swelled with sympathy. What a heavy load for a kid to carry.

He touched his hand to his chest where his heart raged against his rib cage. Some scars were where everyone
could see them and others were invisible. The unseen wounds had driven many of his choices. He saw now that he could trust Jenna.

“We should probably get back down the mountain, get you to the doctor and call the police,” he said.

Jenna's eyes grew wide. “The owl. Was the carrier still beside the car?”

How quickly her thoughts turned to the birds. He shook his head. “I think so.”

She was already halfway across the field. Keith sauntered behind her, still basking inside the warm glow of the kiss.

Jenna had opened the hatch of her car. She collapsed on the edge. “My head really hurts.”

Keith rushed over to her. “Jenna, we need to get you checked out at the hospital.”

He noticed trembling in the hand she brought up to rub the back of her neck. “I know that, but this bird has been through enough. I've brought him all the way up here.” She gazed at him. “Can you help me? It won't take but a minute.”

She wasn't going to leave unless they released this bird. Keith shrugged. “Sure. What do I have to do?”

Jenna burst to her feet, but swayed.

He grabbed her arms to provide support as she sat back down. “Maybe it's a good thing your car was disabled. For sure, I don't want you driving until we have you checked out.”

Jenna furled her forehead. “That guy messed with my car.” Irritation colored her words.

Keith pointed to the tires, and Jenna let out a groan.
She tilted her head back but stopped midway, pressing her palm against the back of her head.

“You really need to take it easy.” He brushed a hand over her silky hair. “I can probably find some replacement tires at the ranch. Gramps has plenty. Let's get you to a doctor.”

“First, the bird.” She crossed her arms, her mouth drawn into a tight line. She was not going to give up without a fight. He had to admire her tenacity.

“I'll take care of this. You sit right there. A head injury is nothing to mess around with. One day you're fine, and the next you can't remember how to find your way home.”

“You know this from experience?”

“Yeah, I have seen it happen to some guys I was stationed with.” He kneeled on the ground. “You've got to trust me on this one. I can let this bird out on my own.”

“Okay,” she relented.

“Just tell me what to do.”

Jenna craned her neck from side to side. “It's not really hard. You just want him to have as little human contact as possible. Open the door and tilt the cage. He should be ready to come out. Sometimes, they don't take flight right away. As soon as he is out, back away as quietly as you can.”

Keith reached beside the car, grabbed the carrier; his bare arm brushed against hers. She seemed to almost lean into his touch, a nice assurance that the scars really meant nothing to her. The back of his hand brushed over the smooth surface of her arm. “Goose pimples.”

She rubbed her own arms and tilted her head as he straightened. “I know. I need to put that sweater on.”

Without a word, he set the carrier down, retrieved the sweater and wrapped it around her shoulders. “Better?”

She nodded. Again, his gaze fell to her lips. He really wanted to kiss her again, to hold her longer. To make sure the first kiss had been real. Maybe later. He drew back, turning his attention toward the carrier.

“I know it's dark, but you can't use a flashlight.”

“Not an issue for me. I am used to tromping around in the dark.”

“Something to do with your time in Iraq?”

Before, a wall would have gone up when she probed, but now he found himself wanting to share some of the details of his life. Some doors still had to remain closed. Even he couldn't revisit them, not yet. But for now… “Yeah, I'll tell you about it sometime.”

“I'd like that.”

 

Jenna watched as Keith stalked out to the open field. Her skin still tingled from his touch. The light-headedness wasn't simply from the head injury.

As he drew farther away, she could just make out his silhouette. The moon provided only a soft wash of light. He stopped and leaned over the carrier to unlatch the door. He tilted the cage. She saw a flash of white.

Jenna drew her knees up to her chest. The owl had not moved since its initial escape. Inside her head, she coached the bird.

Come on, little guy, take flight. You can do it.

Keith stood still, as well. Jenna touched her fingers
to her lips. Though the kiss had been wonderful, it had left her feeling vulnerable. What happened now? At college, she had dated other men, but it had never gone beyond a few dates. Some of the men had been nice, solid Christian men. Some had only reminded her what a landmine relationships could be for her because she seemed to have radar for men like her father. With all those men, nothing had sparked inside her, even with the nice guys. Over the years, Keith had occasionally fluttered across her memory, especially in the summer. What if none of those other relationships got off the ground because she had met her soul mate when she was ten?

The thought made her heart beat faster as the strange mixture of excitement and fear flowed through her. Keith seemed open to sharing the parts of his life he had guarded before. That meant she had to let him into hers. Her back stiffened. Could she do that?

Keith took a few steps away from the bird. Jenna squinted, trying to separate the owl from the field. Owls do not make noise when they fly, one of God's special gifts that allows them to sneak up silently on prey. It did make it difficult, though, to tell if the bird had taken off. She waited for some flash of white in the moonlight. The standard policy was not to leave a bird until it showed it was capable of sustained flight.

Jenna rose to her feet. Keith increased his pace as he stepped farther away from where he had left the bird. He came up beside her.

“Did he take off?”

“Not yet.” Keith stood close; the knuckles of his hand brushed against hers. His hand probed over her palm as
he intertwined his fingers with hers. Her pulse surged. Delight at his touch and uncertainty about the future fought a war inside her.

She could barely discern the image of the bird taking flight. She pulled her hand away to point. “There, there he goes.” The elation and feeling of victory flooded through her. This is why she loved this job. She turned to face Keith. His features were not discernible in the darkness.

“Kind of a good feeling, huh?” His voice was low and husky.

His kiss had turned her world upside down. She found herself longing to be in his arms again. Her head undulated, reminding her of her injury. She took a step back.

“Boy, do I wish I had an aspirin.” She would be able to think clearer and sort through things when her head didn't feel like it was about to explode. Then maybe she would know what to do about Keith Roland.