Chapter Four

Jackson commando crawled along until he could use the corner of the house as cover. He sat up, panting, and grabbed his radio from his hip holster.

“Shots fired, repeat, shots fired at 225 Ridgefork Lane. 10-71.” Officer needs assistance. He peered briefly around the corner of the house. What the hell was going on?

“10-4, Sheriff, calling for backup.”

“Approach with caution,” he muttered into his radio, then peered beyond the wall again. Those shots had come from downstairs. He’d seen Stephanie climbing through the window upstairs. He’d almost had heart failure when he’d recognized the bedraggled, wet woman on the roof. She was damn lucky she hadn’t slipped. He twisted, then winced. Damn, he’d been hit.

Another shot fired, and the wood of the porch railing above his head splintered. He ducked, shuffling back on his ass. He couldn’t even see which window they were shooting from. He unholstered his weapon, then looked around him. He was probably about halfway along the side of the house. He glanced up. There looked to be a bathroom window, but it was too narrow for him to climb through. The kitchen was further along the house toward the back. The living room windows were on the other side of the house.

The muscles in his jaw flexed, and then he leaned forward. What …? He rose to his feet and quietly scooted along the wall of the house. Low to the ground and almost buried by the snow—but not quite—was one of the basement windows.

Using his hands, he cleared the snow away from the glass, ignoring the burn of the cold against his fingers. He tried to pull the window open, but it wouldn’t budge. Maybe it was nailed or painted shut.

He unzipped his jacket, bundled up the butt of his gun, and then used it to hit at the glass. The glass shattered, but with the sound of the icy wind blowing, it didn’t seem too loud. He hoped it hadn’t sounded loud inside the house. He used his jacket to brush out the shards of glass and then quickly slid his legs through, holding on to the upper rim of the window as he lowered his body into the basement.

He hissed as he hung there for a moment, the burn in his side getting hotter, then dropped down to the floor. His hand went to his side, clutching as though the pressure would ease the pain, and it did, a little. He lifted his hand, and even though it was dark, there was enough of a glow from the snow outside that he could see the dark fluid glistening on his fingers.

* * *

Stephanie dropped to the floor, panting, and the closet door opened. Aiden and Katie burst out, falling on her and she hushed them. She wasn’t sure where their trembling ended and hers began, as they listened for more shots. She battled the panic that was rising inside her. Jackson! What had happened to him? She hoped—no, she prayed he was all right. Visions of him lying in the snow, possibly hurt—or worse—threatened to undo her, and she took a steadying breath. She couldn’t fall apart. Not now. The kids needed her.

Footsteps scurried down the stairs, and she lurched to her feet, finger to her lips. Her hair and clothes were wet, and she was so damn cold, but at least the feeling was returning to her feet. She sucked in a breath at the burning sensation of pins and needles. They had to get out of here. There was no pretending to be asleep in their rooms after those shots were fired.

She opened the bedroom door and peeked into the dark hallway. So far, it seemed clear. She tiptoed along the hall, the children close behind her, until they reached the point where the wall ended and the bannister for the stairwell began. She flattened herself against the wall, checking to make sure the kids were right behind her, then peered around the corner and down into the stairwell.

“What were you thinking?” A male voice exclaimed. Whoever they were, they were in the living room. She couldn’t see them, but she could hear them clearly.

“It was a damn lawman. We had to stop him radioing for backup.” This voice was deeper, coarser.

“Why the hell did you bring a gun?”

“Are you serious? We’re here to find sweet Bess. It makes perfect sense for us to be armed. And it’s a damn good thing we are, too.”

“You just shot at the sheriff.”

“But I didn’t shoot the deputy.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, grow up. Did you get him?”

“I don’t know.”

“If you didn’t, he’ll be out there calling for backup, dumbass.”

“I told you before, don’t call me dumbass.”

“Then stop acting like one. We’ll have to get out there and find him. I’ll take the front, you take the back—and keep an eye on the doors in case the woman and the kids try to make a run for it. Now we’re going to have to sort them out, too.”

The front door opened, and footsteps trooped out on to the porch. Stephanie leaned over in time to see a boot cross the threshold.

She beckoned the children along behind her, padding down the stairs. Both men had gone out the front door. She presumed one of them would be trekking through the snow around to the back door.

But for the moment, both were outside. She ran over to the front door and closed it, biting her lip as she flicked the latch on the lock. Grabbing Aiden and Katie by their hands, she jogged toward the back of the house. The phone lines were cut, but surely her neighbors had heard the shots and called for help. Their yard backed on to a forest, but if they cut through the north-east corner, there were other properties a short walk away. She could get Aiden and Katie to safety.

But then, what about Jackson? She’d seen him pull up, she’d seen him dive for cover. Had he been hit? Was he still alive? Was he lying in the snow unconscious? What should she do? She couldn’t very well leave him. She glanced down at the children who clung to her. But her kids needed to be safe.

They ran into the kitchen, and Steph skidded to a stop. Through the glass panel on the back door she could see a man’s head, and he shook his dark hair like a dog to get rid of the snow.

Oh, God, he’d beaten them to it.

He reached for the door handle and looked up, and his eyes met hers.

Brown eyes. Those brown eyes widened when realization struck, and he reached for the door.

“Run,” she said to the kids, and they turned and raced out of the kitchen. A thumping echoed down the dim hall from the front door. The other man was back there, trying to get in.

She hauled them to a stop. “Wait,” she panted. A man at the front door, a man at the back, and Jackson heaven only knew where. She glanced wildly about, then lurched at the door under the stairs.

The basement.

“Come on.” She opened the door and guided the children into the darkened stairwell, pulling the door shut behind her. She’d been meaning to replace the low-wattage lightbulb hanging above the stairs. It was strong enough to reveal the stairs, but that was about it. She wasn’t sure if hiding in the semi-dark was a bonus or a safety risk. The door didn’t have a lock, though. “Go down just a little further,” she whispered as she hurriedly undid her belt and slid it through the loops of her jeans.

Fingers trembling, she slid the end of the belt through the buckle and looped it over the door handle. She pulled it tight, then looped the other end over the timber rail that was nailed into the wall that led down into the basement. She dropped the belt, whimpered, then tried it again, pulling the strap around and fashioning the leather into some sort of knot.

The door rattled, and Katie screamed. Stephanie jerked back, looking over her shoulder briefly. She reached out to clutch their shoulders, and gently walked them down the stairs into the gloom.

“Shh, it’s okay Katie,” she whispered as soon as they reached the bottom. “We’re going to be fine.” God, she hoped she sounded more confident than she felt. One man trying to get into their basement, another prowling the grounds, and the phone lines cut. This had to be her worst nightmare. She had no idea what had happened to Jackson. She just hoped he was okay, too. She halted. This room was full of junk, and in the dim light she didn’t want them tripping over anything dangerous. There were two strip windows that were quite high up, and the faint glow of the snow reflecting the starlight shed just a little illumination. One of the windows was broken, and chill air filled the room.

“She’s right, Katie. You’re going to be just fine. We have some deputies on their way.”

Katie gasped, and Steph had to slap a hand over her own mouth to prevent her startled scream from escaping.

Something moved in the darkness, and she squinted. Jackson emerged from behind an old, unused stove, clutching his side.

Relief washed over her, a warm wave of reassuring confidence that almost swept her under, weakening her knees as soon as she recognized the familiar curl of lips, the short blond hair, and those hazel-green eyes that shone almost silver in the gloom.

“Jackson,” she breathed. Then she frowned as her gaze dropped to the dark, wet patch on his shirt, and her heart skipped a beat. “Oh, my God, you’ve been hit.”