Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 99132 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 496(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99132 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 496(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
“Yes, I’m aware.” Huck offered his hand. They’d met once before. “Would you please have a seat?”
Uma dropped into the chair, her fingers twitching against the strap of her purse. She had long brown hair and eyes and seemed much more intense than last time he’d met her. She looked everywhere but at him.
Huck shifted his own chair so he faced her directly. “Have you threatened Abigail Caine?”
Her cheeks flushed. “Define ‘threatened.’”
“Did you say you were going to kill her?”
“No.” Uma picked at a nail, the sharp movement betraying her nerves. “I ran into her in the parking lot at the grocery store. Told her she deserved to die.”
“But you didn’t shoot at her?”
“No.” Uma’s shoulders stiffened. “I didn’t shoot her. Didn’t hire anyone to do it either.”
“I have a warrant for your home and bank records,” Huck said, his tone flat.
Uma’s chin lifted defiantly. “Feel free. I don’t have any money. If I did, I wouldn’t waste it hiring a sniper. But Abigail Caine will get hers. There’s not a doubt in my mind.”
“That sounded like a threat.”
“I don’t care.” Her eyes narrowed, expression hardening. “I loved Zeke. We were going to get married.”
When had she gone off the rails? “After dating a month?”
“When love happens, it happens fast.” Uma shot to her feet, eyes blazing. “I don’t have to talk to you.”
“No, you don’t.” Huck’s voice remained calm. “But you should tell me everything right now.”
“Screw you.” She stormed out, the door slamming hard enough to make the photographs rattle on the walls.
“That wasn’t very churchly,” Huck muttered.
Pastor John reappeared in the doorway, concern etched across his face. “That looked rough, but the love of her life was murdered by his own daughter.”
“He wasn’t a good man.” Huck kept his arms folded, his gaze unwavering.
“I don’t judge.” Pastor John shrugged, but the gesture seemed forced. “If the rumors are true, then he’ll face judgment. One way or another.”
Huck rarely thought much about heaven or hell, but if anyone deserved to rot in hell, it was Zeke Caine.
The pastor cleared his throat. “Tim Kohnex is here waiting to speak with you. He wants me to convince you that he’s telling the truth. I think he is.”
Tim Kohnex strode inside, his mutt trailing at his heels. Aeneas lifted his head, sniffed the air, then rested his chin back on his paws. Kohnex took the chair Uma had vacated. “I didn’t shoot Abigail,” he said, voice rough and low. “But I warned her evil was coming for her. It is. She deserves it for murdering our beloved Pastor Zeke.”
“Tell me about your military record,” Huck said.
“It was brief. Worked as a mechanic. Didn’t like the structure. Got out.” Tim shrugged. “I’m not military. But I can shoot. Grew up hunting, fishing, shooting. It’s what I do.”
The man’s twitchy gaze didn’t match the nonchalance in his voice. Huck watched him carefully. “So you do want Abigail dead?”
“No.” Tim shook his head. “I want her behind bars. But Captain, you need to protect yours.”
“My what?”
Kohnex threw up both hands. “Your woman. She’s in more danger than you can imagine.”
“Is that a threat?”
“No.” Tim tipped his head back, eyes unfocused. “The wind speaks to me. It tells me when there’s danger. I know it’s coming for Laurel Snow. I tried to warn her and she wouldn’t listen. The nightmares won’t stop. I have to get through to her.”
Huck stiffened. “Really?”
Tim’s eyes widened, the blue darkening. “Yes. I don’t know how or why. But it’s coming from a distance. Like a bullet.”
Huck’s phone vibrated in his pocket, cutting through the tension. He pulled it out and glanced at the screen. A text from Laurel.
Another sniper. Shots fired, and the doctor next to me died.
Everything inside Huck went cold.
Tim’s lips curved into a slow, almost satisfied smile. “I am not sure what you just read, but I feel like the wind is happy. You believe me now, don’t you?”
Chapter 17
Laurel sank into Huck’s sofa, her body angled toward the warmth of the roaring fire. They’d eaten dinner not long ago—chicken cacciatore, Huck’s latest culinary experiment. The captain had a talent in the kitchen he didn’t share with many people.
Fred Lacassagne, her cat, lay sprawled across her lap and part of the couch, his rumbling purr a constant vibration against her thigh. She absently rubbed him behind the ears, her fingers finding the soft fur at the base of his neck where he liked it most. She hadn’t expected to bond so deeply with the little guy. He’d been a stray she found in a decrepit old barn on her family’s property, looking half-starved and matted. Now, he was an affectionate fixture in her life. She hadn’t planned to keep him; that would’ve been impractical, especially with her job pulling her all over the place. But something about his stubborn persistence to survive had hit her hard.