Holiday Secrets. Susan Sleeman
NINE
Lexie Grant’s father had to pick today, of all days, to come back from the dead.
“Not a word from you in over a month.” She glanced at his prop plane rumbling in the distance on the abandoned airstrip, the winds from a blue norther howling across the field. “I thought you had to be dead.”
“Why in the world would you think that?” Her father raised his chin in his usual haughty manner.
“Your house and office. They were ransacked. Then you go missing. The sheriff couldn’t find you, and he suspected foul play. What else was I supposed to think?” She sighed and wished her father cared enough about her and her fourteen-year-old brother, Adam, to have told them he was leaving town. “Where have you been?”
He stepped closer to the crumbling maintenance building shielding them from the harsh wind racing through the Texas Hill Country. “There’s no time to explain. I have another appointment and have to leave.”
Right. Leave. He’d left her and Adam to be raised by their mother’s sister, Ruth, when their mother died giving birth to Adam. Why should Lexie expect him to stay and give her an explanation?
“So why are you here, then?”
“To give you this.” He held out a large manila envelope, his hand trembling.
She watched him for a moment, trying to determine if he was shaking from the twenty-five-degree temperature drop in the last hour or if it was more. He stood strong as usual, but something was off. Maybe something to do with his disappearance.
Thankfully, her fears for his safety had been unfounded, and he was alive. Tears of gratitude sprang to her eyes, surprising her, what with their troubled relationship.
He shook the envelope. “Take it.”
She might be glad he was alive, but she wanted nothing from him. Nothing at all. She shoved her hands into her pockets.
“The envelope.” He glanced over his shoulder to make a furtive sweep of the area.
“If you’re worried that someone is watching us, I should tell you Gavin is coming out here to meet me. He needed to talk to me tonight, too.”
“You’re meeting your old boyfriend? Here? Tonight?” His voice rose as he cut his gaze over the towering copse of bald cypress trees shadowing the abandoned property.
“Yes,” she replied, trying not to think about seeing the man she’d once thought she’d spend the rest of her life with, before he’d bailed on her three years ago.
“He’s FBI now... I can’t... I have to go.” He waved the envelope. “C’mon, take it. Everything you need to know is inside. It’s insurance to make sure you’re safe.”
“Safe? Why wouldn’t I be safe?”
He opened his mouth to respond but a rumbling noise sounded from the far side of the field, taking his attention.
A dirt bike burst from the shadows and raced straight for them.
“Gavin?” her father asked.
“No. He’s riding over on his horse.”
“Take this. Now!” Panic wove through his tone. He shoved the envelope toward her.
She’d never seen the all-knowing doctor this rattled. Should she be afraid, too?
“Now!”
She reached for the envelope. He let go, but she didn’t have it in hand. The wind whipped it into the air.
“No!” He charged after the envelope dancing toward his plane.
As a pilot, he could jump in the cockpit and take off anytime he wanted, but he seemed more concerned about getting the envelope.
“Are you coming back or leaving?” she called after him.
He didn’t respond. She stepped away from the building to get a better look. He charged ahead, then froze in place, staring at the bike rumbling closer. He suddenly bent to grab the envelope. A gunshot rang out, cutting through the night.
Was it the biker? Was he the one shooting at them?
Her father took off, running toward the plane. The bike veered right, bearing down on him. He’d barely made it a few feet when another shot split the air. Then another. Her father went down.
Dad! No! She opened her mouth to scream.
No. Stop. The shooter will hear you. Maybe come after you.
She clamped a hand over her mouth as panic raced along her nerves. What should she do?
Hide. Yes, hide. Now!
She slipped behind the building. Held her breath. Fought the panic. Her horse Misty, tethered a few feet behind her, nervously shifted. Lexie raced to the mare.
“Shh, girl. Don’t give me away.” She scrubbed her hand down the mare’s velvety nose until she calmed. “What do I do, girl? I can’t just leave Dad out there.”
But could she do otherwise and not be shot?
She had to try. She couldn’t lose him when she’d just gotten him back. She was an ER nurse, after all, and she was sure she could help.
Hoping the shooter hadn’t seen her, Lexie left the horse behind and peeked around the corner. The biker roared close and came to a stop ten feet from her father. The biker sat there, his gun outstretched, his bike idling. Her father didn’t move.
“Stupid old man,” the biker yelled as he dismounted.
Gun waving, he strode toward her father.
Was he going to shoot her dad again? Should she intervene or would he shoot her, too?
She had to do something, but if she died, she’d be of no help to anyone. So she had to be careful. Smart. Assess the situation before acting.
She crept around the back of the building. Good. Dark shadows clung to the crumbling siding. She eased through the inky blackness.