ZERO HERO (The Kate Huntington Mystery series) (22 page)

           
Why isn’t he coming at us again with the car?

            The rumble of an engine answered her question. A pick-up truck was headed down the far slope. If he’d tried to run them over again, there would be a witness this time.

            Had he seen Skip go off the edge of the cliff and thought she was now alone? She didn’t know what the hell he had in mind, and she wasn’t inclined to wait to find out.

            She prayed Skip would keep his head down.

            The pick-up truck slowed. The figure on the shoulder waved a hand, signaling that the truck driver should go on. He would help the poor folks in the stranded SUV.

            The truck picked up speed again.

            Kate briefly considered trying to flag it down. She’d have to expose herself to do that and ‘Talbot’ might have a gun. She wrapped both hands around the pistol and steadied her wrists in the V created by the open door and the windshield frame.

            The pick-up truck had just passed her when she fired. The gun roared. Her arms flew up and she rocked backward. The recoil was greater than she was used to when she practiced with her own .32.

            But a puff of dust rose from the spot where her bullet had hit the gravel shoulder, ten feet in front of the man. Right where she’d been aiming. Despite her fear, a brief zing of excitement rippled through her chest.

            The man froze. The truck engine roared behind her as its driver sped up.

            “I’m okay, Skip. Stay down there.”

            The figure on the shoulder stood still for what felt like an eternity but was probably just a few minutes. Then he started moving again.

            Kate braced herself, adjusting for the greater recoil, and fired a second shot. Another roar, another puff of dust, closer to his feet this time. He froze again.

            Her ears were ringing. It sounded like Skip was yelling from miles away. She could just barely make out the words. “What the hell’s going on?”

            “Jackass is trying to decide if I’m serious.”

            The man stood still again. Did he think she was just a bad shot or was he assuming she didn’t have the nerve to truly shoot him?

            “Come on, you sexist fool,” she muttered. “Get over yourself and go back to your car.” She didn’t want to shoot another human being, but she knew in that moment she would if he kept coming.

            As if he’d heard her mental challenge, he took a step forward.

            Aware that the revolver only held six bullets, Kate aimed carefully for the center of his torso. She was about to squeeze the trigger when he turned and bolted back toward his car.

            She let out her pent-up breath but kept the gun trained on him.

            Should she try to shoot out his tires as he went past or let him go? What if he tried to ram the Expedition?

            Before she could decide what to do next, a deep voice came from behind her. “Don’t move, lady. Drop the gun!”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

            Kate jerked her head around, her gun still aimed at the retreating figure on the shoulder.

            A Maryland state police car was facing her, lights flashing. A state trooper stood in front of it, his gun extended toward her.

            Kate hastily raised her hands in the air. “We’re the victims, Officer.” She heard a car engine behind her and looked around. The sedan was headed toward them, in the far right lane. “The driver of that car, he tried to kill us!”

            The trooper kept his eyes and his gun on her as he signaled for the sedan to pull over.

            It picked up speed instead.

            “He’s getting away! He tried to kill us.” She waved her hand in the direction of the car now cresting the next hill. Unfortunately the gun was still in that hand.

            “Lady, put the gun down on the ground. Now!”

            “Do it, Kate!” Skip’s panicked voice yelled from behind her.

            She stooped down and put the .38 on the gravel.

            The trooper now had his gun trained on Skip, who was pulling himself over the guardrail. When his feet hit the gravel shoulder, he staggered a few steps. Blood dripped from one of his hands and he was covered in dirt.

            Kate glanced back at the trooper. Doubt flashed across his face but his gun was still aimed at her husband. The bubble of anger that had been building in her chest exploded. She kicked the Expedition’s door closed and ran toward Skip, putting herself between him and the trooper.

            “Stop, lady!”

            She turned around, hands on her hips. “That man tried to kill us and you’re standing here pointing a gun
at us
, while he’s getting away.”

            “I’d appreciate it if you’d lower your gun, Officer,” Skip said from behind her. “I know this looks suspicious but we really are the good guys.”

            The trooper lowered his gun partway but made no move to holster it. “Are you armed, sir?”

            “Not anymore. My gun fell out of my waistband when I slid down that cliff.”

            Kate’s throat tightened.
His granddaddy’s pearl-handled gun was gone?
She blinked away tears and ran toward Skip again.

            “Ma’am,
please
stand still,” the trooper yelled.

            Kate whirled around and glared at him. “Can’t you see he’s bleeding?”

            “Officer, you really don’t want to take her on when she gets like this,” Skip said.

            “
Gets like this
. What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

            Suddenly she was shaking and couldn’t stop. The world tilted.

            Skip grabbed her before she could fall. He wrapped strong arms around her. “Sh, sh, it’s okay, darlin’. We’re safe now. I’m not going to bleed to death and the trooper’s just doing his job.”

            “Guess I’m not all that kickass after all,” she mumbled against his chest.

            He kissed the top of her head. “You’re okay. It’s just the adrenaline wearing off.”

            “May I see some ID, sir?”

            Skip turned sideways without letting go of her. “I’m a private investigator. License is in my back pocket.”

            “Please take it out, sir. Slowly.”

            Skip’s chest rose and fell under her cheek. His sigh ruffled her hair. With one arm still around her, he fished out the leather case containing his P.I. license and carry-concealed permit and tossed it to the trooper.

            The shaking had stopped but she wasn’t quite ready to let go of her husband. She dragged in a deep breath. Dirt and sweat never smelled so good.

            The trooper examined Skip’s credentials, then walked all the way around the Expedition. He stopped at the right front fender, then looked over at them. He stooped down. When he stood again, he said, “You folks come sit in my car and tell me what this is all about while we wait for a tow truck.”

            “How’d you get here so fast anyway?” Skip asked as he turned Kate toward the police car.

            One corner of the trooper’s mouth quirked up. “I’d just set up a speed trap up the road a piece. Guy in a pick-up pulled himself over and practically jumped in my arms. Said some fool was back here shootin’ at somebody.”

~~~~~~~~

            They were both crammed into the front seat of the tow truck along with its husky, good-ole-boy driver. He wore a quilted vest over a plaid flannel shirt and jeans, and he was chawing away at something. Skip hoped it was gum.

            He sniffed discreetly. Yup, peppermint, not tobacco. Maybe the guy was trying to quit smoking.

            Kate was jammed against the door. She had her cell phone to her ear, attempting to succinctly explain to Rob all that had happened.

            Trooper Ellis had believed their story. It was too outrageous to be fiction. But he’d been reluctant to let them keep the gun Kate had fired at their unknown assailant. Skip had been equally reluctant to be unarmed, out here in the middle of nowhere waiting for a ride, with a killer on the loose. Finally he’d called Dolph who’d called Judith Anderson. She’d vouched for them.

            The trooper had produced a first aid kit, then left them in his car while he retrieved the gun from the ground and Kate’s purse from the truck.

            Skip was grateful not to have an audience as Kate cleaned his injuries with alcohol swabs from the kit. He’d winced and cussed a lot. None of the scratches or cuts were all that deep though, and thankfully it was his left hand, not his right, that was now wrapped in white gauze.

            His spare gun was in his waistband holster, digging into his back. He found the discomfort reassuring.

            The driver swung into the lot of a closed body shop. He stopped the tow truck and got out. Skip slid out after him and walked around the cab to help Kate down.

            She had just disconnected. “Rob’ll be here as soon as he can.”

            “You folks gonna be okay?” the driver asked. He set about unhooking the Expedition from his rig.

            Kate nodded but Skip wasn’t so sure. He looked around. The body shop was one of only a half dozen business establishments lined up along the country road. They all seemed to be closed on a Sunday afternoon.

            The knots in his stomach were back. Was he being overly paranoid? He didn’t know. He’d lost his internal compass for judging how dangerous a situation truly was.

            “Is that café open?” he asked the driver.

            The man turned a beefy forearm over and looked at his watch. “Not for awhile yet, but Shirley’s probably still in there cleanin’ up from lunch. I’ll walk on down with ya. She’ll let ya sit in there ’til yer ride comes. She can probably rustle up some coffee too.”

            “That sounds heavenly,” Kate said. “I’ll call Rob back and tell him to look for us there.”

            “No.” Skip’s tone was sharper than he’d intended. What if their attacker, or this gangster he worked for, had the equipment to intercept cell phone calls and track their locations via the GPS chips in them? “Turn your phone off. We’ll just watch for him. The town’s not that big.”

            Kate looked at him for a moment, then understanding dawned on her face. She fished her phone out of her purse to turn it off.

            The tow truck driver gave them a funny look but didn’t say anything.

            At the café, he introduced them to the owner and explained that they’d had an accident on the highway.

            Shirley was a middle-aged woman with frizzy blonde hair and a voluptuous figure that was moving toward fat. She fussed over them sympathetically as she got them settled at a table. Then she went to fetch coffee.

            Kate let out a loud sigh.

            “You know what’s funny,” Skip said. “I’d just been thinking how relaxing this weekend had been, when that bozo tried to run us off the road.”

            Shirley came back with two steaming mugs. She set them on the Formica-topped table, then pulled a handful of creamers out of her apron pocket. “You folks hungry? Grill’s closed down but I can heat up some soup, and I’ve got homemade pie.”

            “That sounds wonderful,” Kate said. “What kind of soup?”

            “Cream a chicken or split pea. Got apple, peach or Boston cream pie.”

            “Chicken soup and peach pie, please.” Kate flashed her a grateful smile.

            “Nothing for me, thanks,” Skip said.

            Kate gave him a concerned look as Shirley walked away. “You sure? It’s been a long time since breakfast.”

            Skip shook his head. “Not hungry.” He took a sip of coffee, trying to ignore her narrow-eyed gaze.

            “I’m okay,” he insisted.

            Her eyes said she didn’t believe him.

            He felt a tug of guilt. His father’s words echoed in the back of his head.
It ain’t easy, son, for us men to share how we feel. But you gotta tell your woman when somethin’s botherin’ you. They got this sixth sense, and if you don’t tell ’em what’s goin’ on, well, they’ll just keep pesterin’ you ’til you do.

            He took a deep breath. “You remember what we were talking about this morning?”

            Kate nodded, watching him over the edge of her mug as she sipped her coffee.

            “After Mac was shot, my reaction was kinda the opposite of yours. I started feeling something I’d never really felt before. Took me awhile to figure out that it was fear.”

            Kate frowned and cocked her head. “You’d never felt fear before?”

            “What I used to think was fear was really caution. It was... more intellectual. And usually when I’m in a tight situation, I get this calm that comes over me. I’m extra alert and thinking fast.”

            “That’s fear,” she said, “or rather the adrenaline triggered by fear. Just the right amount to keep you on your toes.”

            Skip shook his head. “Yeah, it was adrenaline, but it wasn’t from fear. I think it was more excitement. But when Mac was shot, it was like you said. If he can get hurt, then anyone can. And suddenly I was afraid. Truly afraid. Cold-sweat, knot-in-my-stomach afraid.”

            “It shook your healthy denial,” Kate said.

            “What?”

            “Denial, the defense mechanism. We tend to think of it as a bad thing, when we pretend something isn’t happening. But it has its good side too. Every day, we walk out of the house assuming nothing bad’s gonna happen to us that day. That’s healthy denial. It allows us to function.”

            “But bad stuff does happen.”

            Shirley arrived with soup and pie. Kate thanked her, then turned back to him. “Yeah, and when it does, it shakes that healthy denial.” She paused, then continued in a low voice. “That’s what happened when Eddie was killed. Why I’ve been so paranoid that something would happen to you. If one husband could die so suddenly and senselessly...” Her voice trailed off.