Presumed Dead

She arrived a couple hours later in khaki shorts and a ruffled, baby blue tank top, carrying a shopping bag. Her parents must have wired her some money.

He waited until she’d checked into Cottage 19 before scanning the surroundings and knocking on her door. It would have been safer for her to be in the main lodge, but the place always booked up months in advance.

“Who is it?”

“Preston.” Saying his own name sounded strange. He usually gave a different alias everywhere he went.

The door swung open. “So you are real. I thought maybe I’d imagined the whole thing.” Holly left him at the door and sat on the brown leather sofa in front of a stone fireplace. She clicked the television remote to turn down the volume of the local news, which was covering the bombing she’d just escaped.

Preston closed the door and looked from the on-screen reporter standing in front of the charred cabin remains to the woman whose great-grandparents had built it. “How are you doing?”

“Numb right now. My attorney brain is trying to make sense of all this, but the pieces don’t fit together.” She gave a wry smile. “Mom and Dad offered to drive up, but I told them you are taking good care of me.”

His shoulders sagged until he registered her small smile. “No, you didn’t.”

Her smile disappeared. “I wanted to. I hate secrets.”

“So do I.” His secret was what kept him from taking her to The Rustic Lounge to enjoy a good meal and talking until midnight, the way they used to. “How did it go with the cops?”

The corners of her mouth curved down. “I might as well tell you about my cancelled engagement.” She looked away. “My former fiancé—your old JAG friend Caleb Brooks—was at the cabin. Said he wanted to work it out with me. Police seemed to suspect him at first, but now they are looking into the other woman. I personally think she’s more likely.”

Preston clamped his jaw shut. He could get himself in trouble here if he wasn’t careful. “I’d like to look into other possibilities.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “You mean like check into which of my former clients have been released from jail recently and that kind of thing?”

“Yes.” She’d be a good investigator with her experience in law and the research that went into it. Unfortunately, that was what gave her the idea she could help find his saboteur. He’d disappear before she ever got the chance to try.

She scooted over. “Are you going to sit down?”

He’d been planning to keep his distance. His mission was to find the person after her so she could return to her life safely. Nothing else. Which meant they had work to do.

“How about we go to the business office and use their computers for our research?”

She frowned. “You don’t have a computer or phone?”

He shook his head. “I go to the library for research since I can’t pay for internet or cellular service without a credit card.”

Holly blinked. “Of course.”

And hers would have been destroyed in the bomb blast. He tilted his head toward the door. “Come on.”

Preston led her across the commons area with its picnic tables, fire pits and swimming pool, toward another small cottage structure that housed a few game tables in one room and computers in the other. Two kids swatted a Ping-Pong ball back and forth and didn’t even notice them as they entered the smaller interior room.

Holly sank into a chair and ran an internet search on Operation Desert Hope before he could stop her. The black-and-white image of a burning helicopter took his breath away. It came to life in his memory with the roar of fire, the heat of flames, the smell of sulfur and the taste of acid in his throat. Shouts. Sirens. The realization he’d let his team down. Not to mention the failed recovery of hostages whose families counted on him to bring them home safely. Then there was Sergeant Beatty warning Preston to lie low until he discovered exactly what had happened.

Preston had failed them all.

“Holly.” He pushed through the past to get back to the woman in the room with him. “We are investigating the bomb at your cabin, remember?”

She spun her chair to face him. “You’re not giving up on finding your saboteur, are you? Do you have any idea who it might be?”

His breath hitched. He couldn’t do this now. “My first goal is to keep you alive. Please log in to your work files.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Police are probably arresting Denise Amador right now.”

Preston rubbed his temples. If she wanted to believe Denise was her only threat, how was he going to get her to help him figure out who the real enemy was?

Holly bit her lip. “Do you think Caleb will defend her? Nah. Never mind. I don’t want to talk about him.”

She didn’t want to think about her situation at all. That must have been why she wanted to focus on him instead—why she was so adamant about investigating the helicopter crash.

“Holly, if you don’t need my help anymore, I’m not going to stick around.” He couldn’t relive his last day with SOAR over and over, letting her hope she’d find something he missed. He knew what it felt like to have your hopes dashed, and he wasn’t going to do that to her. If she refused to work with him to find out who was really after her, then he’d watch from a distance to make sure the police kept her safe and arrested the hit man and the person who’d hired him. That was probably the best thing for both of them.

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.

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.

“It wasn’t Brooks,” Shaw stated. “Deputy Young saw the perp sneaking out a back window but lost him in the woods. Caucasian. Six feet, one hundred and eighty pounds. Tan with medium-blond hair and a camouflage hoodie. Knows the area really well, too. Put out an APB.”

Holly gasped. Shaw had described Preston. He was after the wrong man.

* * *

Preston watched from up the mountain as the sun set and lights flicked on in the cabins below. He wiped sweat from his brow when an ambulance pulled away without Holly. She must be okay, but his stomach still churned at the idea she’d gotten hurt under his care. He wouldn’t make that mistake again. She’d be better off with police protection. The same officer who’d been at the bombing now walked her across the commons to her cabin. Looked like he planned to personally guard her.

From now on, Preston would keep a safe distance as he watched for the shooter to return. The man had disappeared before Preston could follow him, but that wouldn’t happen again.

If only they’d found a lead in Holly’s work files. Maybe the police department would have better results than he’d had.

Cop cars pulled away from the scene of the crime one by one. A couple plainclothes detectives stuck around to record evidence. Had Holly been able to keep his existence a secret this time around?

Preston shook his head to free himself from the fear of being discovered. The more pressing issue would be to discover whoever was trying to hurt her.

Was he right in believing the shooter to be related to a client from her past? Or was it just a random psychopath? Or perhaps he should look into Denise Amador as Holly had suggested. The other woman could have hired a hit man. That could have been her on the phone with the bomber.

Preston rubbed his temples. Time to sneak down to Holly’s cabin and wait outside a window for a chance to talk to her. He’d make sure she was okay after the bullet wound. And then he’d say goodbye. No matter how well they worked together or how good it was to see her again, his presence only complicated the situation.

After driving the old Chevy down the mountain and parking on the street, Preston made his way to Holly’s cabin. He hated having to leave her, and he hated how much he hated having to leave her.

He crouched down to avoid detection as he neared Cottage 19. He peeked through a window to find Officer Shaw in front of the television and Holly on the phone. Probably talking to her mom.

It had been years since Preston had talked to his own mom. The emptiness he’d once been used to now overwhelmed him like a tidal wave. Being with Holly, being known, had been a sip of water to a man in the desert. It wet his tongue, but made him realize how parched his throat had become. How would he survive if he had to head back out into the desert again?