LITMIR.BIZ

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tell me to relax, everything will be okay?”

       Hunt grinned. “You can take it. You’re the closest I’ve come to creating my own rag doll. You know the routine by now.”

       Thanks to several encounters with various wild animals, he did. Although he’d been out alone, filming wildlife since he was in junior high—camera equipment was all he’d ever asked for, and what Tippy, the man who’d raised him, had generously provided—it wasn’t until he’d gotten older that he’d been harmed. He blamed himself for being careless or becoming too cavalier. But, his fault or not, that bear he’d tangled with four years ago had nearly cost him his left arm. And there might be more incidents in the future. That kind of danger went with his job. He had to get close enough to his subjects to capture good footage. That was what made his work better than most. Not only had he come within arm’s distance of bears and wolves, he’d filmed cougars, moose, bison and elk. He’d flown to Florida to do a documentary on alligators, and the Amazon to do a show on spiders, and another on snakes for the Disney channel. In the past decade, he’d been all over the world—not bad for an abandoned kid who was almost entirely self-taught.

       “How long’s it been since you’ve had a tetanus shot?” The doctor spoke as he numbed the area.

       “When I was attacked by that bear.”

       “Are you sure it wasn’t the time before that—with the wolves?”

       “No, it was the bear.” It’d been almost seven years since the incident with the wolves. He’d had a gun with him on that occasion. Firing a shot into the sky had mitigated the damage. He wasn’t sure how he’d survived mama bear. From what he remembered, she simply got distracted and galloped off.

       “I’m glad one of us can keep it straight,” Hunt grumbled.

       He was in the middle of stitching Isaac up when the sheriff came out of the bedroom.

       “Any idea who attacked Claire?” he asked Isaac.

       A local anesthetic had put Isaac out of pain. “No.”

       “You didn’t see anything?”

       “Headlights.”

       “How’d you know she was hurt?”

       “I heard her scream.” The memory of it still raised the hair on his arms.

       “From way over here?”

       “From the edge of the clearing.” Isaac explained everything that had happened in as much detail as he could, including his run-in with the unyielding tree.

       When he’d finished, the sheriff put his notepad in his pocket, checked Isaac’s wound to make sure it was consistent with his story, then scratched his neck. “So…it could be anyone with a car that has headlights and taillights. That narrows it down.”

       Isaac wished the doctor would hurry up and finish. Pain or no pain, he didn’t like needles. “It’s someone who knows the area.”

       “Why do you say that?”

       “He was familiar with the back way. He followed her in, so I expected to find his vehicle close to hers. But he took the alternate route just after my place, the long way, and went up and around. That’s why I didn’t spot his car until he was driving off.”

       Myles rested his hands on his utility belt. “That doesn’t narrow it down too much, either. What do you think he wanted?”

       Isaac shook his head. The culprit hadn’t attempted to rape her. He hadn’t really tried to hurt her, either. She might’ve ended up unharmed had she not fallen.

       Still, it was chilling to think that someone had followed her and crept into the house while she was there alone at night. “No clue.”

       “Thanks for helping her out.” King shifted his attention to John Hunt. “Is it okay to move her? Can I take her home?”

       When Hunt hesitated midstitch, Isaac tried to ignore the doctor’s gloved hand, covered with blood, holding that needle.

       “Not if she’s going to be there alone.”

       “Her sister lives next door,” Myles said. “Leanne will look after her.”

       “Fine with me. As long as Leanne’s willing and up to it.”

       Isaac would’ve offered to let her stay, to watch over her through the night and give her a ride in the morning, but he knew she wouldn’t want that.

       As the sheriff went to get her, Isaac closed his eyes. Although he experienced no pain, he felt a tugging sensation with each stitch.

       The sound of movement made him glance up. Claire was walking under her own power but King had a tight grip on her upper arm, as if he didn’t quite trust that she wouldn’t fall.

       Isaac thought she’d leave with just a perfunctory thank-you. He knew she probably wasn’t pleased they’d met up again after so long. But she turned back at the last moment, eyebrows gathered as she studied his wound.

       “I’m really sorry you got dragged into this,” she said.

      Dragged… He managed a bitter smile as the door closed behind them and wondered what she’d think if she knew how panicked he’d been, how hard he’d pushed himself to reach her.

       He had a hole in his chest to prove it. But she’d be surprised to learn there’d been any kind of personal involvement in what he’d done—so surprised she’d never believe it. Neither would she believe how completely she held his attention whenever she was in the same vicinity.

       Or how many times he thought of her even when she wasn’t.

       Jeremy was shaking when he got home. After parking in the garage next to his father’s old Jeep, he hurried into the house and charged down the stairs to his room, where he closed and locked the door.

       “Hey, the village idiot’s back! Where’ve you been?” His father had heard him come in; the noise had brought him to the top of the stairs. Rarely did he venture any closer these days. Jeremy had gotten too big. But that hadn’t always been true. He used to show up all the time, usually with his belt off and at the ready.

       “Watching the fireworks.”

       “I didn’t see you at the show.”

       Trying to shut out the memory of how easily Claire had fallen when he pushed her, he sat on his unmade bed and dropped his head in his hands. “I was there,” he said through his fingers. “Where else would I go?”

       “That’s what I’d like to know.”

       “I was there,” he said again. Then he waited to see if his father would come down and bang on the door, because if that happened, he’d cry, and crying would only make his dad yell and say bad words. You’re a fucking giant! Quit acting like a little girl!

       Maybe he did act like a girl sometimes, but he couldn’t help it. Had he hurt Claire? And who’d been holding the flashlight in the forest when he came running out of the studio? Someone had been there. Had he been seen?

       He supposed he’d find out soon enough if someone from the sheriff’s department showed up.

       The creak of footsteps overhead told him his father had left the opening to the basement and was going about his business. Hopefully, he’d get into bed soon. Don liked to ramble around and watch TV for most of the night. Since he’d gone on disability, it wasn’t as if he had to get up for work. But Jeremy liked it better when the house was quiet....

       The clock ticked loudly on his desk. Jeremy counted those ticks until he thought he’d go mad. He kept wondering if he’d hear a knock at the door. But no one came.

       Slowly his heart rate returned to normal. Everything would be okay. He hadn’t meant to do any harm. It wasn’t his fault that she was so small and he was so strong.

      

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