As Grace Clark closed the lid of the dumpster behind Delgado’s Bar & Grill after tossing the night’s trash, a woman’s shriek rent the air, causing Grace to spin on her heels.
The sound had come from the B and B that sat across the street, catty-corner to the restaurant’s parking lot. On the exterior staircase that led to the second-floor rooms stood a tall man wearing a black leather jacket and motorcycle helmet, holding a woman by her arm. Although taller than the average woman, she was inferior in height and weight, making her no match for her assailant. Grace crossed the parking lot behind Delgado’s and marched through the snow for a closer look. Her hair whirled around her face, and she pushed the strands behind her ears, the cold December wind a stark reminder that she’d left her coat inside.
In the distance, the sky lit up with a flash of lightning. The air was brittle, almost crackling, and the approaching storm made the night darker and gloomier.
She stopped on the corner, about a hundred feet away from the B and B. The man must have tightened his grip on her arm because the young brunette suddenly winced as she leaned into his grasp. He shouted something at her, but all Grace made out were a few angry curses.
“Hey,” Grace called out. “Are you all right?”
The couple glanced her way. The guy’s visor was raised but the helmet blocked most of his face. Almost immediately, he swiveled his head away and let the woman go.
A nervous shiver ran down Grace’s spine. She had definitely stepped into the middle of something.
Looking relieved, the brunette held her arm against her chest. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she said, with a quick wave of her uninjured hand. Her voice was a little shaky and ragged, raw with emotion. Her features were tense, her expression uneasy. She wore a thin quilted jacket and canvas shoes better suited for autumn than the frosty start of winter. “Thanks.”
Grace nodded, although she didn’t believe her. It was obvious the man was up to no good, but fear had a way of silencing people.
The next flash of lightning was noticeably closer than the first, and a roll of thunder echoed through the air. Grace tilted her head up. A drop of rain hit her cheek as gray clouds roiled. The first time this month the evening temperatures hadn’t dipped below freezing and they were going to pay for it with a rainstorm.
Grace eased back toward the restaurant. She didn’t want to leave the distressed woman, but she also didn’t want to get soaked and catch pneumonia. A California girl, born and raised, she was still acclimating to the Wyoming weather among other things. She had needed a fresh start in every possible way. Job. Landscape. Focus. A total overhaul of her support system.
On a whim, she had decided to pack up and drive across the country to the place that her brother called home. She figured her life couldn’t get any more different than in the Cowboy State. Low taxes, unspoiled nature, zero smog, no traffic—a miracle in itself. Besides, the spirit of the Old West was alive and well here and there were actual cowboys. Most people were friendly—the genuine kind, not the SoCal fake kind—and sociable to the point of being gossipy, and hardworking as well. And there was snow, plenty of that. Snakes, too. She could do without both, most especially the latter.
She reached the shelter of the restaurant’s overhang just as the sky opened up. Rain pelted the snow still on the ground. Across the way, the couple had moved under the covering at the top of the landing. But now the rain drummed out any other noises and obscured her view.
It concerned Grace that the brunette hadn’t used the storm to say a hurried goodbye, get away from him and go inside. As she had made eye contact with the woman, Grace had sensed an inkling of danger. And felt an urgency to help her. Maybe it was because they were both young females. Grace had just turned twenty-five and the other woman looked about the same age, possibly younger. Women had to stick together, especially when one was in a vulnerable position.
Regardless of the reason, she felt an odd connection to her.
Grace traipsed inside the restaurant, needing to close up and go home, but concern for the woman had her on edge now. It was like one of those dark, ominous clouds, filling the air with anticipation and a palpable dread. Trouble was rolling in along with the storm.
She peeked through the blinds covering the window that offered the best vantage point at the rear of the restaurant to see the B and B. With the deluge, she couldn’t see much beyond the parking lot.
Back in Los Angeles when neighbors quarreled, you watched from the security of your living room with a pair of binoculars and a cell phone at the ready to dial 911. She wasn’t sure how things were done out here, but her binoculars were in her rented cottage. At night and with the rain, she probably wouldn’t be able to see much more if she had them anyway.
Rather than lock up for the night as she had planned to do, she grabbed her coat and the solid wood baseball bat they kept under the bar in case of emergencies. If this had happened two hours earlier, Xavier Triggs would have been there to help. Like her, he poured drinks and served tables. Unlike her, he cared about watching football. She had offered to close on Sundays, Mondays and Thursdays, giving him the chance to enjoy the late game from home with his wife, who also loved the sport. As manager, she didn’t have to close at all since she made the schedule, but she did anyway, grateful to Lynn Delgado for having given her the job when she had little experience. Lynn had understood Grace’s need for a break from her emotionally demanding job as a nurse in palliative care while she worked on an advanced degree part-time. Now Grace was trying to prove, mostly to herself, that even with online classes she could still be a team player.
On her way to the rear door, she grabbed an umbrella. Pulling her hood up over her head, she pushed on the metal bar of the back door and stepped outside. Heavy rain drummed against the roof. She opened the umbrella and then considered how she was going to wield both that and the bat. If the bat turned out not to be for show and she had to use it, two hands would be required.
Staring at the B and B through the veil of rain, she ditched the umbrella. Water poured off the overhang, splashing the sidewalk in front of her. Soon it would turn the snow into slush ice. Good thing she had taken Lynn’s advice by purchasing a pair of Sorel Caribou boots for the winter and packed away her flip-flops and tennis shoes for the foreseeable future.
Lightning splintered the sky in a bright flash. Shadows danced on the landing of the B and B’s exterior staircase. The couple was still outside. It was hard to tell whether they were talking or fighting, but she hoped things had simmered down.
She took out her cell and called the sheriff’s office.
One of the perks of being the sheriff’s sister was she could ask a deputy to do a drive-by, her worry being sufficient reason. Her brother had only been in the job for a little less than a year and he was currently out of town, trying to see if it was possible to reconcile with his ex. Nonetheless, Grace didn’t think anyone in the sheriff’s department would dismiss her concern.
At least she hoped not.
The call connected. “Chief Deputy Holden Powell.”
The sound of his voice, deep and smooth, made her pulse race. Happened every time she heard it and she hadn’t gotten used to that feeling. “Hi, it’s Grace. I’m calling from Delgado’s.”
“Is everything okay?” he asked.
“I’m not sure. When I was putting out the trash, I noticed a couple fighting outside the Quenby B and B. I heard her cry out and saw him grab her arm. They’re still out there. I’m not sure it’s worth disturbing you, but I’m concerned.”
“I’ll drive by. Take a look. If it turns out to be nothing, I can keep you company while you lock up. Either way, it won’t be a wasted trip.”
“I’m sorry to trouble you like this.”
“No trouble at all,” he said, sounding sincere. “See you in a few.”
“Thanks.” After ending the call, she slipped the phone into her pocket.
Holden would be there soon. But would it be soon enough?
She was aware how easily and quickly a situation could get out of hand. Within minutes. Sometimes it only took seconds. Heck, things could go wrong in a heartbeat.
She needed to buy time without endangering herself. She had the training to handle her own, but you never knew if someone had a gun. It was safest to assume that everyone was carrying.
All she had to do was go over to the B and B and if they were still arguing, share the fact that the sheriff’s department was on the way. If it came to that, hopefully that’d be enough to scare the guy, and he’d take off.
Taking a deep breath, she ventured into the downpour and stepped into the parking lot. She nearly slipped right on her backside and had to pinwheel her arms to catch her balance. Grabbing a hold of the side mirror of her vehicle, she made certain that slippery patch wouldn’t get her again.
The rain had turned everything into a slick mess quicker than she had expected.
She righted herself, letting the spike in her pulse settle, and trod with more care across the parking lot.
Another bolt of lightning highlighted the couple. The woman tried to open the side door to the B and B on the second floor, but the man slammed it closed before she made it inside.
Rain pounded the pavement. A crack of thunder made Grace jump, but she didn’t slow down. Holding the bat with both hands, she hurried to make her presence known over the loud clatter of rain, her anxiety increasing with each step.
She decided to get only as close as necessary so that she could be heard.
As she started across the street, another jagged flare of lightning lit up the B and B. The two were grappling at the top of the landing. The man’s hands were locked around her throat, and the woman struggled to get free of his grasp.
Then darkness fell again. Thunder rumbled, so loud now it sounded as if it were overhead. Grace picked up her pace, splashing down the asphalt of the street. A sharp sound pierced the rain-drenched darkness. What was that? A scream?
It was hard to tell over the thrumming rain.
She was close enough now to see the staircase clearly. The guy raced down the steps, hopped onto his motorcycle and cranked the engine.
Lightning forked in the sky.
In the glaring bright flash, Grace spotted the woman, immobile, lying facedown on the pavement near the bottom of the stairs.
Shock paralyzed Grace. Heartbeat skyrocketing, she stood frozen, her gaze riveted to the body that had been animated, struggling only seconds ago.
Her stomach clenched. This was her fault for not acting faster. As soon as she suspected the woman was in trouble, she should have called Holden and come straight over instead of dithering and debating.
High beams flipped on, forcing Grace to squint against the harsh light. She raised a hand, shielding her eyes, but she couldn’t see anything through the bright glare. The engine revved and the motorcycle took off, roaring down the street. By the sound, it was headed straight for her, as if to run her down.
A quick punch of fear and dread flooded her veins.
The motorcycle’s growl grew louder, the blinding light beaming down on her.
Pulse hammering in her ears, Grace lunged to the side to get out of the way. A split second too late. The bike clipped her, knocking her off her feet, sending her crashing into a parked truck.
Her head slammed against metal. The world spun and blurred. A haze of red and blue flashing lights filled her vision before darkness engulfed her.