wiped his feet on the entryway rug and closed the door behind him.
“Almost ready?” he asked a bit too briskly.
Natalie lifted the baby to her shoulder. “Sofia needs to be burped, then I’ll grab her things.”
“Stay where you are. I’ll get them.”
“Is something wrong?” She stared at him as he crossed the room to the nursery.
She must have heard the harshness in his voice. Instead of keeping his internal turmoil in check, he’d made his own frustration evident in the sharpness of his tone. Natalie didn’t deserve his gruffness.
“I’m just eager to get going.”
He couldn’t tell her about the mixed emotions that only served to pull him off task and away from the investigation to something much more personal. All too aware that Natalie’s nearness was playing havoc with his common sense, he entered the baby’s room and quickly placed Sofia’s things back in the diaper bag. Glancing into the living room, he watched Natalie carry the baby to the window and stare out into the gray dawn.
As if again feeling his gaze, she turned to stare at him, her eyes filled with question.
Grabbing the diaper bag, he returned to the living area and pointed to the door. “Let’s get going.”
She moved away from the window. Before she’d taken three steps, the crack of a gunshot sounded in the early-morning stillness.
The window shattered. Shards of glass flew like shrapnel through the air.
In one swoop, Everett covered Natalie and the infant with his body and pulled them to the floor.
She screamed. The baby cried.
He drew his weapon. “Stay down.”
Crawling to the window, he peered over the edge of the sill and searched for movement. Hampered by the faint morning light, he hurried back to her side. “I’ll check the grounds.”
“Be careful, Everett.”
He squeezed her hand and slipped out the kitchen door. Staying close to the side of the cabin, he stared at the expansive lawn and the lake beyond, then slowly and methodically, he circled the building, his eyes on the forest that edged the property. Every few steps, he stopped, narrowed his gaze and searched for anything out of the norm that would indicate a person hiding in the underbrush.
Even though he saw no one, the shooter could still be hiding nearby. Everett returned to the cabin and motioned Natalie, with the baby in her arms, toward the door.
“We’ve got to get out of here. I’ll step onto the porch first. Stay back until I signal you.”
She nodded and cradled Sofia close to her heart.
Everett inched open the cabin’s front door and stared at the gravel drive and surrounding tree cover. The shooter could be anywhere.
He pulled in a deep breath and counted to ten before he stepped onto the porch, gun raised and at the ready.
Turning his ear, he listened for any sound that might indicate movement. A squirrel scampered up a tree. Overhead, a crow cawed.
Moving swiftly, he opened the car’s rear door and waved Natalie forward. Then he stood guard with his gun extended while she and the baby raced from the cabin and climbed into the backseat of the SUV. She clicked the baby into the car seat and adjusted her own seat belt.
“No one’s following us,” Everett said as they left the gravel driveway and turned onto the narrow country road.
“It was Mason,” she insisted. “Frank told him where to find me.”
Everett had instructed Frank to keep information from the senior CID agent. Had he ignored the advice?
A heavy weight settled on his shoulders. If Natalie was telling the truth about Germany, then the shooter at the cabin could be the person who had killed Tammy Yates and Denise Lang. Just as Natalie had said, that person could be Mason.
SEVEN
N atalie’s pulse throbbed, and her heart pounded at breakneck speed as the countryside flew past them. Everett’s gaze flicked between the road ahead and the rearview mirror. His hands gripped the steering wheel white-knuckled, which made her all too aware of the gravity of
“Almost ready?” he asked a bit too briskly.
Natalie lifted the baby to her shoulder. “Sofia needs to be burped, then I’ll grab her things.”
“Stay where you are. I’ll get them.”
“Is something wrong?” She stared at him as he crossed the room to the nursery.
She must have heard the harshness in his voice. Instead of keeping his internal turmoil in check, he’d made his own frustration evident in the sharpness of his tone. Natalie didn’t deserve his gruffness.
“I’m just eager to get going.”
He couldn’t tell her about the mixed emotions that only served to pull him off task and away from the investigation to something much more personal. All too aware that Natalie’s nearness was playing havoc with his common sense, he entered the baby’s room and quickly placed Sofia’s things back in the diaper bag. Glancing into the living room, he watched Natalie carry the baby to the window and stare out into the gray dawn.
As if again feeling his gaze, she turned to stare at him, her eyes filled with question.
Grabbing the diaper bag, he returned to the living area and pointed to the door. “Let’s get going.”
She moved away from the window. Before she’d taken three steps, the crack of a gunshot sounded in the early-morning stillness.
The window shattered. Shards of glass flew like shrapnel through the air.
In one swoop, Everett covered Natalie and the infant with his body and pulled them to the floor.
She screamed. The baby cried.
He drew his weapon. “Stay down.”
Crawling to the window, he peered over the edge of the sill and searched for movement. Hampered by the faint morning light, he hurried back to her side. “I’ll check the grounds.”
“Be careful, Everett.”
He squeezed her hand and slipped out the kitchen door. Staying close to the side of the cabin, he stared at the expansive lawn and the lake beyond, then slowly and methodically, he circled the building, his eyes on the forest that edged the property. Every few steps, he stopped, narrowed his gaze and searched for anything out of the norm that would indicate a person hiding in the underbrush.
Even though he saw no one, the shooter could still be hiding nearby. Everett returned to the cabin and motioned Natalie, with the baby in her arms, toward the door.
“We’ve got to get out of here. I’ll step onto the porch first. Stay back until I signal you.”
She nodded and cradled Sofia close to her heart.
Everett inched open the cabin’s front door and stared at the gravel drive and surrounding tree cover. The shooter could be anywhere.
He pulled in a deep breath and counted to ten before he stepped onto the porch, gun raised and at the ready.
Turning his ear, he listened for any sound that might indicate movement. A squirrel scampered up a tree. Overhead, a crow cawed.
Moving swiftly, he opened the car’s rear door and waved Natalie forward. Then he stood guard with his gun extended while she and the baby raced from the cabin and climbed into the backseat of the SUV. She clicked the baby into the car seat and adjusted her own seat belt.
“No one’s following us,” Everett said as they left the gravel driveway and turned onto the narrow country road.
“It was Mason,” she insisted. “Frank told him where to find me.”
Everett had instructed Frank to keep information from the senior CID agent. Had he ignored the advice?
A heavy weight settled on his shoulders. If Natalie was telling the truth about Germany, then the shooter at the cabin could be the person who had killed Tammy Yates and Denise Lang. Just as Natalie had said, that person could be Mason.
SEVEN
N atalie’s pulse throbbed, and her heart pounded at breakneck speed as the countryside flew past them. Everett’s gaze flicked between the road ahead and the rearview mirror. His hands gripped the steering wheel white-knuckled, which made her all too aware of the gravity of
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