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Dickhead landed face down on her bed. She shoved back against the wall as someone called out her name.
“Dela! Dela!” Jacob’s frantic voice shook her to her senses. She grabbed the photo, shoving it into the bedside table as her friend’s brother ran into the room.
“Oh my God! Are you okay?” He walked around the end of the bed toward her.
Her hands shook and she pressed into the corner.
Jacob took the Beretta from her hand and lay it on the corner of the bed. “Let me help you up.” He reached down with one hand.
She grasped his hand and he pulled her to her foot.
“I can’t stand.”
He started to set her on the bed.
“No. I mean I can’t stand on only one leg. I need my crutches in the bathroom.”
Jacob stared down at the floppy right leg of her sweatpants as she moved the leg back and forth.
“I lost my lower leg in Iraq. That’s why I was sent home.” She put a hand on his shoulder. “Walk to the bathroom and I’ll hop alongside.”
He didn’t say a word, just walked slowly to the bathroom.
Once she had her crutches and could move on her own, she nodded to the body bleeding on her bed. “Call it in. I’m going to check my animals and call Heath.”
“Shit! He’s going to kill me. I’m so sorry. I was watching the house and the bastard snuck up behind me. The next thing I knew I woke up and heard shots.” Jacob pulled his cell phone out of his pocket as Dela swung her body down the hall.
In the kitchen, there was glass everywhere and the door stood open. She hadn’t put on a slipper or shoe. Grabbing a towel, she folded and tossed it where she could place her foot and get out the door in one step. She used the crutches to swing her body, place her foot gingerly on the towel, easing the weight down to make sure she didn’t get cut, and then placed the crutches outside the door and stepped out, scanning the backyard for her dog and donkey.
“Mugshot! Mugshot!” she called.
Whining came from the other side of the backyard gate. She hurried across the yard and swung the top of the gate open.
Mugshot jumped up, whining and trying to lick her. Jethro put his head over the bottom half curling his lip.
“Are you guys okay?” she asked, petting them both and trying to see if there was any blood on either of them. Mugshot dropped his front legs down and cried out. “That bastard!” she said and dialed Molly.
“Hey, I’m surprised to hear from you. Aren’t you and Heath—”
Dela cut her off. “I need you to come check out Mugshot. That dickhead Jones came here to get me and hurt him.” Tears burned behind her eyes. She bent her head to rub them with her free hand.
“Are you alright?” Molly asked.
“Yes. No. I-I shot him.” She started shaking. This had happened in the army, too. After the adrenaline wore off from trying to stay alive, you realized that you’d just killed someone to save your life and that of your comrades.
“Honey, we’ll be right over. Where is Heath?” Molly asked.
“He went to help someone. I-I need to call him.” She ended that call and found Heath’s number. The phone rang several times.
“Do you miss me?” he asked and giggling in the background had to be Rosie.
“I just shot Dickhead.” That was all she could get out.
“Are you okay? Where was Jacob?” He started asking questions and she could tell he was running.
“I’m...not hurt. He knocked Jacob out. I called Molly. He did something to Mugshot.”
“I’ll be there soon. Keep talking to me.” An engine roared and tires squealed.
“Don’t kill yourself getting here. I’m fine.” But she wasn’t. She’d killed the man who said things that made her think he had known her father. But how? Why had he kept it to himself all this time? Was that why Dickhead had hated her? Because of her father? Who the hell was he?
“Did you get him to confess to killing Paul?” Heath’s voice invaded her thoughts.
“What? No. He talked about—”
“Dela, I need to take your statement,” Jacob said from behind her.
“I have to go. Jacob needs my statement.” She ended the call as Heath told her not to hang up.
Sirens screamed in the cold night air. Dela swung back into the kitchen, using the same towel.
Jacob picked it up when she was seated in the living room. “Can’t have that there when they take photos.”
She nodded, but her mind was on the conversation Dickhead taunted her with before she’d shot him.
Mugshot started howling as the sirens grew closer.
“Do you want me to bring him in here?” Jacob asked.
She shook her head. “I don’t want him walking across that glass. Molly’s coming. He acts like D- Jones hurt his front leg.”
There was a knock and Chief Steele entered, along with a tribal and county officer. “Special Agent Quinn will be here shortly,” the chief said. He studied Dela. “Did you shoot him?”
She nodded. “He broke the back glass door while I was in the bathtub. I had heard my dog and donkey making noise and was listening. That’s when I heard him break the glass. I got out, went into the bedroom, and pulled my Beretta out of the bedside table. I could hear him coming down the hall. I didn’t know it was him but had a suspicion. We told you someone had called and threatened me to back off and let the law arrest me for Paul Winter’s death.”
The chief nodded.
“I shoved my back into the corner of the room and rested my hands with my weapon on my bed. He came in and started talking trash. I told him to leave or I’d shoot. He lunged at me and I shot three rounds.” She glanced up at the chief. “Training is hard to stop.”
The county and tribal officers had already dispersed to take photos.
The front door slammed open. Heath stood in the doorway until his gaze landed on Dela. He crossed the room and pulled her into his arms. “Are you really okay?” he whispered against her hair.
She nodded, but her arms wrapped around him and she buried her face against his chest.
He picked her up and sat down on the couch, holding her. He didn’t ask questions, didn’t even murmur words of encouragement. He just let her take time to pull herself together.
♠ ♣ ♥ ♦
Dela didn’t know how long she sat curled up on Heath’s lap. Molly and Marty arrived. Heath told them to use the side gate to get to the animals. Quinn arrived. When she looked up at him, concern had softened his grey eyes but he talked only to Heath, who answered his questions.
Molly returned. She said it looked like Mugshot had sprained his front leg, but he’d be fine if he stayed confined to a small area. And Jethro was healthier than when she’d first checked him out.
“Why don’t you come stay with Travis and me for a few days? It sounds like your bedroom is going to be a crime scene for a while.” Molly sat on the couch beside Dela and Heath.
Dela glanced around to see who else was in the room. “I don’t want anyone here to see I can’t walk,” she whispered.
Molly shook her head. “All you have to do is use your crutches and walk out of this house and get into my car. No one is going to say anything.” Molly moved her gaze to Heath. “Right?”
“Right.” Heath wiggled underneath her. “You look more vulnerable by curling up on my lap than by swinging out of here with your crutches.”
Dela sat up. She was feeling less shaky and their words were putting the fire back in her gut and her spine. “What about my prosthesis? I’ll need it in the morning.”
Heath sat her on the couch between him and Molly. “I can go back there and get everything you need. I’ve watched you take that thing off enough times I’m pretty sure I can pack the right things.” He watched her closely. Dela could tell what she said next mattered to him.
She sighed. “There is a duffel bag on the floor of my closet. It should have clothes and toiletries in it. All you have to add is my prosthesis, liners, sock, and liner-liners.” He stood. “And bring me the matching shoe to the one on the prosthesis, please.”
He nodded and walked down the hall.
Molly put a hand on her arm. “Are you really feeling better?”
“Yes. I just needed to settle down.” Dela straightened as Quinn walked into the room.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“I invited her to stay with Travis and me,” Molly said.
Quinn nodded. “That’s a good idea. I’ll be by in the morning to ask more questions. I want you to know this is going down as self-defense. It is obvious by what Officer Red Bear told me and evidence that Jones had a vendetta to settle with you and you won.”
“Thank you. If my animals hadn’t made such a racket when he came through the backyard, he would have caught me in the bathtub unarmed.” She shivered thinking about it.
“I guess that big goofy dog is a watchdog after all,” Quinn said, studying her.
“Yeah.” She peered into his eyes. They were saying something but she couldn’t quite decipher what.
Heath returned with her bag, handing her the shoe.
She pulled it on and tied it.
“Ready?” Heath asked.
“I am.” She stood with her crutches and faced Quinn. “We’re taking Mugshot with us. Please don’t let them tear my house apart. Only the kitchen and my bedroom need to be searched for evidence.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
Heath put a hand on her back and they headed to the door Molly held open.
“Seaver, are you coming back to help?” Quinn asked.
“I’m staying with Dela. I’ll be back to work tomorrow.”
Dela didn’t care if the two butt heads tomorrow or any time after that. Right now, she only wanted to get to Molly’s and lock herself in a room and think about what the man she’d killed had known and would never be able to tell her now.
