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KIERA’S MOUTH WENT dry as she stared at the text on her phone. Natalie thought she’d seen Stu? Why would he go to her house? He knew Kiera was supposed to be on vacation. Did he think the house was empty? Was he planning to do something destructive? Her mind raced through the possibilities. Break a window, get inside, and vandalize the place? Start a fire? Or something more subtle? Try to access her computer to hunt for any records that might incriminate him?
Fat chance. She had hard copies here. Backups in the cloud.
Tell me more, Kiera texted back.
Can I call?
Is he still there?
No
OK
The call came through within a minute.
“Tell me what you saw,” Kiera said. “How sure are you it was the man whose picture I sent?”
“I’m not positive. I was watering the plants in your dining room, and this man came up your walkway. He was wearing black slacks, a white shirt, and a black tie. He was carrying papers. My first thought was he was either a Jehovah’s Witness or a Mormon. I didn’t want to talk to either of them, so I backed out of sight and didn’t answer the door. I didn’t think much of it until I realized he was alone. I’ve never seen any religious proselytizers work alone before, so I took another look, and he looked like the picture you sent. Sort of. Like I said, I can’t be positive. I didn’t get a close look. He had his head lowered.”
“Did he leave his leaflets?”
“I didn’t check. Let me look.”
“No, don’t go outside now.”
“You said he wasn’t dangerous.”
“He’s not.” At least Kiera hoped so. What could she tell Natalie that wouldn’t scare her? “It’s better if you ignore him, or he might start pestering you, too. Are you working today?”
“Yes, noon to eight shift. Is there a problem?”
If whoever the man was thought the house was empty, better if Natalie wasn’t there. “No, not at all.”
“I’ll let you know if I see him again. If he’s doing the door-to-door thing, he can’t have gotten too far yet.”
“Wait.” Kiera gave herself a mental head slap. She hadn’t transferred much to her new phone yet, and knowing she had Natalie living in her house, she’d turned off alerts when she’d left for her vacation. She needed to log in to her doorbell app. Then, she could see who the man at the door was. Or wasn’t. She’d shown Natalie how to access the device from her Echo screen. Apparently, Natalie hadn’t thought of it, either. “I’ll check who it was from here on my app. Thanks for letting me know.”
She installed the doorbell app on her new phone, then played back the man’s approach. He was pretty good at averting his face from the camera, standing with his back to the door after pressing the bell. Anyone should know it was a video doorbell. Was he avoiding being recognized, or watching the street? He was Stu’s height, the coloring matched, but after watching the replay three times, Kiera couldn’t swear it was Stu. When he left, he ambled down the walkway to the sidewalk, turned to the right—toward Mrs. Galbraith’s house. If he was going door-to-door, be it proselytizing or selling brushes, she’d have invited him in, fed him tea and cookies. Kiera didn’t have her phone number, but she looked it up and called her neighbor.
“No, nobody’s come by all day,” Mrs. Galbraith said.
Kiera thanked her and disconnected. So, her stranger could have been Stu. Or someone Stu sent. Again, the question of why, since she wasn’t supposed to be home.
Had he considered she’d have a house sitter? Wanted to make sure nobody was home? Would he come back? Should she tell Natalie not to stay there? Where would she go? She was staying at Kiera’s because her kitchen and bathrooms were being remodeled, and she had no plumbing at her house. Should Kiera pay for Natalie to stay at a hotel?
A decision she didn’t need to make right now. She called Madelynn, left a message asking if there were signs that Stu was worried about being caught, if he thought Kiera was an obstacle.
While she waited for Madelynn to get back to her, she shifted gears into photographer mode. She booted her laptop and opened her photo-processing program. She needed at least a dozen top-quality images to show to companies who took freelance work. Or were hiring staff photographers, although those were rare.
Start small, she reminded herself. She’d already found three potential sales outfits who were looking for travel and nature shots. Her landscapes, sunrises, and sunsets would be appropriate. If she got any of them accepted, then she’d try to move upward into her ranch life series.
She set to work. Cropping, adjusting exposure, color balance, tweaking skies. Taking what she had and making it better.
Her old phone rang from her purse. She retrieved it. The number was her work line. Who was calling her from her desk?
~~
FRANK HELD BACK. THE tracks led into the trees. If the mountain lion was in a tree, Frank wasn’t going to give it the opportunity to leap down and attack. He went to his saddlebag for his binoculars and scanned the area, telling the others to do the same. “We need to locate it, then make sure it doesn’t go anywhere until Tim gets here. Don’t move, and keep your voices down.”
“These trees border the pasture,” Rusty said. “What’s to keep the lion from heading for deeper cover?”
“Nothing,” Frank said. “They tend to do their hunting at dawn and dusk, so it’s probably resting now. Normally, they’re not aggressive unless they’re feeding. If it’s a female with kits, she’s going to defend them. We should stay out here.”
“Any of the other ranchers mention mountain lion problems?” Bryce asked.
“Apparently I’m the lucky one,” Rusty said.
“Any rock formations in there?” Bryce said. “That’s where I’d expect it to be. Pine trees don’t make for good resting places, although many of these look like old growth with sturdy branches. Uprooted and fallen trees might be a good choice for a den.”
Rusty took off his hat and wiped his brow again. “Can’t say I’ve ever had cause to venture into the trees. Plenty of grass out here, and there’s the stock tank for water. Maybe one of the hands will know.” Rusty got on the radio, posed the question.
“No significant rock formations. All trees,” one of the hands reported. “Uneven terrain.”
Whether mountain lions were aggressive toward humans didn’t matter to Frank. One incident of abnormal behavior could kill you.
“They attack from the rear,” Bryce said. “From above would work, too. I agree with Frank. We wait out here for Tim.”
“Got something,” Derek said, lowering his binoculars and pointing. “One o’clock. About fifty yards in.”
Everyone raised binoculars to eyes, scouring the woods to confirm Derek’s sighting. At that distance, with all the pine branches obscuring vision, Frank couldn’t be sure what Derek had seen was a mountain lion.
Beneath him, Pumpkin screamed an alarm call and crow hopped.
Frank grabbed the saddle horn, leaned forward, tried to calm the terrified mare. He’d had mixed feelings about bringing her. She was a good warning system, but he was subjecting her to her fears. He wheeled her around and trotted her about twenty yards in the other direction.
Zephyr snorted and pawed the ground but didn’t panic. Bryce held up a hand and pointed toward his nine o’clock. “The horses are alerting that way.”
Everyone shifted their attention in that direction.
Sounds of an approaching engine said Tim was arriving. Frank kicked Pumpkin into a lope and intercepted Tim, explained what they had—or thought they had.
“Got it. A shot from here’s not going to be easy with all the trees.”
Was Tim giving himself a predetermined excuse if he missed? “You saying it’s too tough?”
“You show me where it is, let me worry about the shooting.” Tim patted his rifle. “Mountain lion’s no match for Tim Halloran.”
That sounded more like the Tim Frank knew.
“You have a bead on the animal?” Tim asked.
“Derek thought he saw it over there.” Frank pointed. “The horses are acting more like it’s in over there.” Frank pointed in the other direction.
“Or there are two,” Tim said. “Like we first thought.”
“Doesn’t make sense. They don’t hunt in groups. They’re solitary. And territorial.”
“You know that, and I know that. What if nobody told the mountain lions? Maybe they were littermates, stuck together. You said females are willing to share.”
Frank flipped him off. “I’m sticking with my approach to be prepared for the unexpected.”
Tim pointed to his right and put the Jeep in gear. “Looks like that’s the highest point in the pasture. I’ll set up there. You want to play spotter?”
“Sure.” Frank waved to the others, motioned them to move toward the herd.
“Looks like it’s just you and me, kid,” Tim said and drove to the small rise.
Frank followed. Pumpkin seemed glad to be moving away from the trees. Tim stopped the Jeep and set up. Frank tied Pumpkin to the Jeep’s rear bumper.
“Let’s see what we’ve got.” Tim looked through the rifle’s scope.
Frank used the binoculars to scan the trees. First, where Derek had pointed. Nothing resembling a mountain lion. Either Derek had been mistaken—possible—or the animal had moved. More probable. He panned slowly to the direction the horses had indicated. If the lion had been there, it wasn’t now. “Got nothing. The lion probably saw us, moved away.”
“To her den to protect her kits?” Tim said.
“If she has kits, maybe. If she doesn’t, she could have taken off through the trees, gone somewhere else.”
“You know what I’m thinking?” Tim peered through his scope again.
“We’re going to have to move in closer.”
“Yep.” Tim jumped out of the Jeep, his rifle at his side. “Should we ask Bryce to come along? Sweet talk the lion into holding still?”
Frank grimaced. “He’d decide we shouldn’t kill it after all.”
The two of them strode toward the tree line. Once they got close to the edge, Frank crouched to read the tracks. “Scat. Fresh.” He pointed left. “Prints go that way.”
They entered the woods. Heart thumping, mouth dry, Frank crept along. One step. Stop. Look up. Another step. Turn. Another step. Look for tracks. Tim, behind him, kept the same pace.
Movement in his peripheral vision. A hawk?
Frank glanced upward as a flash of golden brown flew through the air above him.
The crack of a rifle shot filled his ears.
A weight, hot and heavy, pinned him to the ground.