Witness In The Woods

She was…the woman Joe could never sweep out of his thoughts. The one who had gotten away.

And she’d been shot at?

He slammed his foot onto the accelerator.

SKYLAR OPENED THE door and sucked in a gasp. Joseph Cash stood on the front stoop, dark hair swept over one eye and looking smart in his uniform. The forest-green short-sleeved shirt and slacks served to enhance his tan skin. Hand at his hip where a gun was holstered, he had been looking aside until she’d stepped onto the threshold. When he turned to her and his stunning green eyes connected with hers, she clasped a hand over her heart.

“Skylar, are you all right?” She heard genuine concern in his urgent tone.

She had so many things she wanted to say to him. Yet at the moment, she didn’t know how to assemble a coherent sentence. Joseph Cash was the kindest person she’d known, and had always seemed to be there when she’d needed protecting. Be it in high school when she’d been bullied for sitting at the unpopular kids’ table, or even when she’d had to struggle for customers when she’d been working as a small-animal veterinarian in town and most took their animals to the big city of Duluth. And yet, despite his kindnesses, she’d pushed Joe away, wanting to prove to him that she was her own woman. Independent and strong. That she didn’t need a man to look over her.

Her rushed choice in fiancé had proved just that point. What a fool she had been.

“Joe,” she said. “I didn’t expect you. I called the county sheriff. I thought…”

“Well, you got me.” He cast her a smile that surely made every woman in the county swoon. But Skylar had never known how to react to his easy charm and shyness, save with a thrust back of her shoulders and, admittedly, a stupidly stubborn need to prove herself.

“I was close when the call came in,” he offered. “Just down the road coming off Lake Vaillant after a patrol. You okay, Skylar? Dispatch reports you were shot at? What’s going on?”

“I’m okay. And yes, I believe I was shot at.” She absently stroked her fingers over her ear, covering it with her loose blond hair. “I didn’t expect you,” she said again, rather dumbly.

Because if she had known Joseph Cash would be the one standing on her front stoop, she might have brushed on a little blush and combed her hair. At the very least, changed into some clean jeans.

A squawk from behind Joe made him turn sharply on the creaky lower wood step. Skylar noticed his hand instinctively went to his hip where his gun was holstered. A chicken in a pink knit sweater scampered across the crushed quartz pebbles that paved the stone walk up to the front steps.

“What the hell?” Joe said.

“That’s Becky. She wants you to see her. She’s very concerned about her looks. Do you like her sweater?”

The man scratched his head and then bobbed it in a nod, even while squinting questionably. “Yes?”

“She’s one of my rehab residents.”

“That’s right, you rehabilitate animals. I’m not even going to ask about the sweater.” He followed the chicken’s retreat across the yard until she scrambled around the side of the house.

“Uh…come inside.” Skylar stepped back and allowed him to enter the log cabin where she’d been living for two years.

When her father passed, the family land had become her possession, as she was his only child. At least, it was hers according to a handwritten note Merlin Davis had written a week before his death. Skylar had lived in the house until she’d moved to Duluth for college. Eventually, she’d made her way back to the town of Checker Hill and set up shop as the resident veterinarian. She’d never gotten much business. The townspeople were leery of the name Davis. Now this home felt too big for one person, but it was a comfort to nestle onto the aged leather sofa in the evenings, blanket wrapped about her shoulders, and admire the photos of her and her dad that she kept on each and every wall.

“You want something to drink? I’ve got lemonade.”

Joe grabbed her by the upper arm to stop her from fleeing across the open floor plan living area and into the kitchen.

“What is it?” She shrugged out of his grasp with a huff. He looked concerned now. Too much so. She didn’t want any man’s pity.

“Seriously? Skylar, I’m not here for lemonade. I’m here to make sure you’re okay. And not bleeding.” He looked from her head down to her shoulders and all the way to her feet, then back up again. “And—where did the shots come from? Do you know who it was? How long has it been? I should go outside and take a look around. It’s this way, right?”

He headed through the living area and skirted the long quartz kitchen counter. Toward the back of the house sat the screened-in sunporch that stretched the width of the cabin and overlooked the lake. Once before, he’d been in this cabin. When her father had been dying, he’d come to pay his respects. But how dare he traipse on through—

Skylar stopped herself from reprimanding him. He was here on duty. And she had called the police for help, much as her better judgment had screamed for her not to. Would she hear about this from her uncle? On the other hand, maybe Malcolm Davis already knew about the incident. And, yes, that thought sickened Skylar.

“Just through the sliding doors,” she called to Joe. “You can take the deck stairs down to the backyard.”

After grabbing her cowboy hat, which rested on the back of the couch and which she wore like any other woman might wear earrings or a favorite necklace, she followed the man’s bowlegged pace out to the deck.

Standing on the high wood deck, which was stilted ten feet up due to the slope of the ground below, Joe took in everything. The perimeter of the yard was round, echoing out from the firepit in the center. Surrounding the yard were striped hostas that grew thick and lush in the shade provided by the paper birch and sugar maple.

He took the stairs down to the ground. “Where were you? Were you burning a fire?”

He walked over to the fire pit and peered over it. Burnt cedar lingered in the air. As well, the grass was speckled with gray ash flakes from her hastily dowsing the flames with the garden hose after calling the sheriff.

Skylar cringed when she noticed the wedding dress was only half burned and melted among the charred logs. She hadn’t thought to cover up what she’d been doing. It had been a personal moment. A much-needed ritual of release. A reclaiming of her power.

Joe scratched his head. Hands at his hips, head cocked downward, he stared at the remnants of the dress. Skylar didn’t want to answer the question that must be lighting all the circuits in his brain right now.

“Tell me everything,” he said. Then he stretched his gaze around the backyard and out toward the lake. “Did you get a look at the shooter? Were they on your property? Cruising by in a boat? Partyers out for a spin on the lake?”

“I don’t know.” Skylar walked over to the smoldering fire pit and stood beside the hitching post, which she utilized as a stand to hang roasting sticks and an emergency water bucket she always kept filled when she was burning.

“I was burning a few things. And… I was about here.” She stepped to the right a few feet and Joe turned to eye her intently. Dark stubble shadowed his jaw. The golden evening light, beaming through the tree canopy, granted his eyes a rich emerald cast. Everything about the man was intense, dark and—waiting on her.

“Yes, here,” she decided, stomping her boot toe into the grass. “I was talking to Stella—”

“There was someone else here?”

“Stella, my wolf.”

“Your…wolf?” He hooked his hands in the back pockets of his pants and looked about. “What the—? You took in a wolf cub?”

“Stella has been with me a few years. I found her in a snare trap when she was a pup. I hate it when hunters call those things humane. They are anything but. I took her to the office in town and had to amputate her back leg. Since then, she’s flourished. She’s not around right now.”

Skylar scanned the area. The wolf must be off with the half-dozen chickens—surprisingly, her best friends. Stella was protective of Skylar, but she always left the immediate area when visitors or company arrived. She was a little skittish until she could scent out the newcomer, and then she would eventually put in an appearance.

“I do rehabilitate animals,” Skylar pointed out to Joe, who nodded.

“Right. I just thought keeping a wolf as a pet…”

“I have a permit.”

“Sure. Still, they are a wild animal.” He gave her a side glance that dripped with judgment.

“She had nowhere else to go. I tried to get her to return to the pack, but they wouldn’t have it.”

“Uh-huh.” He wasn’t having it, either.

Yes, wolves were wild and should never be kept as pets. Skylar agreed with that wholeheartedly. But when injured and abandoned by their pack, the wolf’s only future was living as a loner. And for a pup living out in the wild populated with predators, the fate was most certainly a cruel death.

It didn’t matter to her what Joe thought of her choice to keep Stella. Skylar loved her like a family member.

“So you were standing right there and…?” he prompted.

“I was watching the flames, talking to Stella and…at first I felt something on my ear. Thought it was a wicked mosquito bite.”

She touched her ear and Joe stepped forward. It was well past the supper hour, and the forest edging her backyard filtered the setting sun, turning it into a hazy twilight. He dug out a small flashlight from a back pocket and shone it on her ear. The man stood so close she could smell his aftershave—something subtle yet masculine with a hint of lemony citronella.

He examined her ear, which had been nicked on the top and had bled minimally. Of course, she’d gasped at the sight of it in the bathroom mirror. She’d never been so close to being killed in her life. And that had angered more than frightened her. What would have become of Stella and the other animals she cared for if she had died? The thought of them being relocated, or worse, was heart wrenching.

As Joe looked her over, she studied his face. There were three Cash brothers, all born and raised in Crooked Creek, a sister town to Checker Hill. There wasn’t a female in either of the two close towns who didn’t know who they were, because those boys were genetic anomalies, fashion models roughed up by the wild. Sinuous and muscular. So sexy. And Joe’s deep green eyes were a thing to behold.

“If that bullet had been half an inch closer…” The man suddenly bowed his head and winced.

Skylar was taken aback by his reaction. “Joe? What’s wrong? I’m okay.”

“Right.” He lifted his head and his jaw pulsed with tension. “You always were able to take care of yourself.”

He’d learned exactly what she’d hoped to teach him about her. Regrettably.

Skylar lifted her chin bravely. “Still can take care of myself.”

“Being shot at is no way to go about it, Skylar. If anything would have happened to you…” He winced again and looked aside, toward the fire pit.

Skylar found herself leaning forward in hopes of him finishing that sentence. Then again, she suspected how he would finish it. He’d never hidden his interest in her. And she wasn’t prepared for such a statement right now.

If only he’d said as much to her two months earlier. Of course, then he’d been avoiding her like the plague.

It was well deserved on her part.

He placed his hands akimbo and scanned the lake. “Do you know what direction the shot was fired from?”

She pointed out through the gap in the bowed birch trees that she’d always thought of as a sort of pulled-back curtain to the stage of the lake. “I feel like it came from that way.”

“See anyone down by the shore?”

She shook her head. Then she remembered, and turned to point out the bullet holes that had splintered and pierced the hitching post.

“Two?” Joe bent to study the post with the flashlight. “These are clean, and one goes all the way through.” He paused and glanced at her as if to temper his words for her tender ears.

“I’m a big girl, Joe. You can say the bad stuff without offending or scaring me.”

“I guess so.” He returned his attention to the holes and tapped the post with a finger. “I have some evidence bags in the truck. I’m going to grab them, but I should also call in someone to take some photos and—” His attention veered to the ground behind the post. “Here’s a bullet.”

He tugged out a black latex glove from his pocket, pulled it on and picked up the bullet from the ground. It was long, and Skylar leaned in to peer at it as he did.

Joe swore.

“What is it?” she asked.

“My dad collects guns, and he taught me and my brothers a lot about the different types and their ammunition. This is most definitely from a high-powered rifle, Skylar.”

“I don’t understand. Not the usual hunting rifle?”

“Nope. If that had been the case, that hitching post would be pocked with lead shot. As well as you.”

Skylar sucked in a breath.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to say that.”

She nodded, no longer feeling quite as strong as she wanted to.

Joe turned and again cast a glance across the lake. “I don’t think the shooter was close. Could have been across the lake. Which means this is some serious business.”

He turned to face her directly and asked, “What’s going on? Why would someone be shooting at you? Skylar, is there something you need to tell me?”

Chapter Three

Joe had rushed to Skylar’s home upon getting the call from Dispatch. Simply hearing her name had been all he’d needed to become immersed in those old familiar feelings he always got whenever he thought about the tall, sexy blonde. Feelings he wasn’t prepared to let emerge right now, because then he’d have to struggle with what had once felt like heartache.

Hell, who was he kidding? It had been, and still was, heartache.

Save for occasionally spying her walking into the grocery store or out of the local café, he hadn’t spoken to her for almost a year. That had been a purposeful avoidance.

Long, tawny blond hair spilled over her shoulders. And that cowboy hat she always wore shaded her blue eyes, but in the rich evening twilight, a flash of sun from across the lake created glints like sapphires in those irises. And when she parted her soft pink lips to speak, Joe’s heart thundered.

“I don’t know what you think I should know, Joe,” she said. “How can I know who was shooting at me?”

Drawn back to the moment, he briefly met her gaze—and almost fell into that heartache again. But he managed to snag a grip on the present and pull himself up and into business mode.

“It’s standard procedure to ask a lot of questions after an incident like this,” he said. “Any details you can provide that might help me figure this out?” He cast his gaze across the lake again. “It had to have come from across the lake.”

“Really? That far away? It’s a good three-quarters of a mile to the other side.”

“Sniper rifles can hit a target miles away. My brother, Jason, used to be one of the best when he was…well.” Jason didn’t like his family to talk about the fact he used to be a CIA agent. And most didn’t know that he had been. “Not that it was such a rifle. Nothing’s been confirmed yet. But whoever made that shot…”

It wasn’t right to be impressed at a moment like this, but that was some distance to the other side of the lake. Had to have been a boat driving by.

Skylar blew out a breath, but it had a nervous vibration to it. She suddenly stepped to the side and wobbled. Joe caught her arm and shoulder against his chest and hugged her. The scent of pine and lemons teased his nose. He slid a hand down to her waist and across her back to offer her a sturdy hold.

“You okay?”

She nodded, but her expression indicated she was far from okay.

“Let’s get you inside. I don’t think it’s wise to stand out here.”

“You think they could still be out there? It’s been over an hour.”

“Unlikely.” He helped her walk toward the deck. “But you could use a cup of tea or something.”

“Brandy,” she said, then laughed. “Oh, Joe, I guess it did throw me. I was fine after I called the police. But now…”

As they approached the deck stairs, a dog came padding out from the forest that edged the north side of the house.

But wait. That was no dog.

“Stella has finally decided you pass muster.” Skylar gripped the deck railing and sat on the second step from the bottom. “Just give me a minute, will you?”

“Of course.” While Skylar sat to settle her nerves, Joe whistled to the approaching animal. “A timber wolf.”

“She’s my rescue sweetie. Hey, Stella.”

The beautiful wolf approached on light footsteps, her gold eyes and coal nose aimed for Joe. Her tail was held slightly erect, with a bit of a kink to it. Warning, but cautiously optimistic. He’d known that Skylar had found a wolf pup in a trap a few years ago, and thought she’d rehabilitated it and sent it off to its pack. But to keep it as a pet?

By instinct, he dropped to one knee and bowed his head as Stella neared. One thing a human should never do was look a wolf directly in the eye. It was a sign of challenge and authority that he dared not risk with this unfamiliar wolf. He noticed a slight hop to her step. She managed very well on three legs.

Raising his head, Joe held out his hand but did not stretch toward the curious animal. She would sniff him out, decide what she thought about him. As she had likely been doing when she’d been hiding in the woods. A wolf’s sense of smell was far superior to that of a dog’s. Stella had already decided whether he was friend or foe. Because of that, he felt honored that she’d come out to greet him.

The wolf approached on careful footsteps, stretching out her neck to sniff at Joe’s fingers. Her tail unkinked and waggled slightly.

“I spent a lot of time with her in the early months,” Skylar commented from the step. “Nearly twenty-four/seven, sleeping with her on a mattress for weeks, acclimating her to my human self and letting her know I would not harm her.”

She’d taken the right steps for a wolf to live with humans. But Joe always favored reintroducing the animal back into the wild before such drastic measures were taken. On the other hand, if her pack had abandoned her, as they may do to the sick or wounded, he could be thankful Skylar had been there for her.

“I suspect her mother was killed. Otherwise, I’m sure she would have stayed around her pup in the trap.”

“Very possible. Wolves will never be pets,” Joe said quietly. “They will always have the wild in them. Right, Stella?”

The wolf’s tongue lashed his fingers, and he let out the breath he had been holding. Just one lick. She wasn’t going to get overly enthusiastic about a new human, but she did seem to trust him. As proof, she allowed him to ruffle his hand over her fur and he went for the sweet spot behind her ear, giving it a light scratch. The wolf sat before him, reveling in the attention he gave her.

“She’s beautiful. I’m honored to meet you, Stella. But where’s your pack?”

“Pretty sure she was from the Boundary Edge pack,” Skylar said. “I checked the records with the wolf center. They hadn’t recorded any births, but they don’t have twenty-four/seven watch, either. And only one of the pack males is tagged with a tracking device. They were able to tell me about a year after I’d had Stella that one of the females was missing. They hadn’t found her body. So I’m sticking with the dead-mother theory. Stella was a long way from home. That pack travels about ten miles north from here.”

“I’m familiar with that pack,” Joe said. “Well, their territory. Never gotten close to any of them, but I have tracked them before. So Stella was found in a leg trap?”

“It was actually a snare. She was near death. Had been gnawing at her own leg. I waited and watched for other wolves, but there were none close. I figured she was about three months old at the time. It’s been almost three years. She’ll never be mine, but I am her person. I did take her to the pack rendezvous point about a month after she’d been with me. Not a single wolf showed.”

“They were watching,” Joe guessed. “But by then Stella was marked by human scent.” He combed his fingers through Stella’s soft summer pelt. The brown, gray and black fur had likely received a good combing from Skylar, for he didn’t notice any unpreened winter undercoat. She lifted her head, luxuriating in his touch. “That’s too bad. She would thrive with others of her kind.”

“She’s not doing so terribly with me.”

“No, she’s not. Looks healthy and happy.”

The wolf tilted her head against his head and he took a moment to relish the contact. It was rare he got to experience the wild so close. And, yes, she was still wild. He’d wager any man who came toward Skylar with intent to harm, or whom Stella hadn’t properly sniffed out, would risk a bite or worse.

“You haven’t started your own pack, have you, Skylar?”

“Of my own design. I rehabilitate all breeds here. Goats, chickens, cats and snakes. Even had a baby moose once, but thankfully, she went back to her mother. Stella was my first and so far only wolf. Which reminds me, I have to run into town tomorrow to pick up some red yarn.”

“For rehabilitation purposes?”

“You met Becky. She wants a change of sweater. Very fashion forward, that chicken.”

Somewhere on the edge of the yard, a goat bleated.

“Beyoncé knows we’re talking about her,” Skylar offered. “She’s a dancer.”

Joe didn’t even know how to respond, so he let that one pass without comment.

Now Stella licked his face. So he sat on the ground and she stepped forward onto his legs. The wolf was big, perhaps eighty pounds, but not as big as some could get in the wild. Standing on their back legs, a wolf could rise well over a tall man’s head. Their weight could range from seventy to one hundred fifty pounds, and they were strong and powerful. Stella seemed amiable, willing to accept him.

“This is the first time she’s ever welcomed a stranger so freely,” Skylar said. “There’s always been something special about you, Joe. I think you’re a wolf whisperer.”

Joe shook his head. She’d never teasingly called him Nature Boy, as his older brothers were apt to, which he appreciated. It was a nickname that had stuck since that fateful weekend he’d gotten lost in the Boundary Waters. Just thinking about it brought up memories of Max Owen, and that forced Joe back to the present. Because he would not let Max’s bizarre death be ignored without discovering the reason behind it.

“I just like animals,” he offered. “All animals. And I respect them. They have souls and are more a part of this land than we will ever be. But enough of the greeting—we have to get your person inside,” he said to Stella. “She’s been through a lot. And I want to head across the lake to look around.”

As Joe stood, the wolf followed, watching him guide Skylar up the stairs by her arm. She was reluctant to accept the assistance—he could sense her tug in resistance—but finally she relented and her body hugged his as he walked her across the deck toward the patio doors.

Skylar Davis possessed an independent streak deeper than his ability to express his true feelings toward her. They’d known one another since high school, and he’d pined over her from afar since then. They’d become friends as sophomores—biology class had paired them over a frog dissection—and following high school, college had separated them for years. But they’d both found their way back to Checker Hill, and one another. A few years ago, they had decided to take a chance at dating. Thing was, their schedules had never meshed, and each time Joe had asked Skylar if she was free, she had been seeing someone else. Vice versa, for one time she’d asked him out when he’d been dating a girl from Duluth.