the steering wheel to keep from driving through potholes.
A hundred yards down the driveway, the trees gave way to prairie grass interspersed with towering sunflowers and Indian paintbrush. The driveway curved, and a bungalow, complete with stone chimney, sloping roof, and covered porch came into view. It stood in the clearing, flanked by a red barn and shaded by a mammoth pecan tree.
One of the tree's limbs had been sheared by lightning and lay across the driveway. Chase drove around it, into the tall grass, which tickled the underbelly of his car.
As they pulled up before the house, she could see that weeds choked the steps to the porch. A window on one side had been broken, leaving behind a gaping hole. At least the structure itself was standing and appeared intact.
Chase cut the engine and stared at it grimly.
"It's in worse shape than you thought?" Sara guessed.
"It's pretty run-down," he agreed.
Obviously it was going to be a chore to fix it up in a couple weeks' time.
Kendal gave a sudden gasp. "Look, someone's runnin' into the woods!"
They peered in the direction that he pointed, catching sight of a man dodging through the tall grass, headed for the trees.
Chase jumped out of the car and flipped the seat forward. "Get him, Jess!"
Jesse bolted. Whether he'd seen the man flee was anyone's guess, but he took off in the direction that Chase had indicated, tearing after the trespasser with every indication of knowing what he was doing.
Chase reached under his seat for his gun, causing Sara's pulse to quicken. "Stay put," he instructed, heading for the house.
"Kendal, keep your head down," Sara advised her son.
Welcome to the Wild West, she thought, with an inappropriate urge to giggle, as she and Kendal scrunched down in their seats.
Time slowed to a crawl.
"Was someone s'posed to be here?" Kendal whispered.
"I don't think so," Sarah admitted. It flashed through her mind that Garret had guessed her destination and set a trap for her, but she dismissed the thought as paranoid. The police would have been waiting for them if that were the case.
Chase emerged from the house scowling. He whistled for the dog, a sound that must have carried for miles.
"House is clear," he said, opening her door for her. "It was just a squatter hopin' to lay claim to an empty building. He left a mess behind, though. Come on in. We'll get our stuff later."
They filed out, trailing Chase up the porch steps. Ceramic pots of every shape and size littered the porch. Some previous occupant had liked to garden. Chase's mother? she wondered.
Chase pushed the door open. A musty odor greeted them as they stepped into a dark interior. "Electricity's turned off," he explained. He pulled heavy drapes away from the window, and light flooded in.
Sara's eyes widened. The main room boasted a stone hearth, exposed beams, a large sofa, hardwood floors, and a rust-and-cream-colored rug. "Oh, this is nice," she said, noting the gold-framed mirror and faded prints on the once-white walls.
"Kitchen's over here," Chase said, turning away.
Following him, she noted the dated cabinets and orange Formica countertops, littered with empty wrappers. Chase hadn't exaggerated to say that the squatter had left a mess behind. Dirty dishes filled the sink, and the garbage overflowed, making Kendal pinch his nose.
Muttering under his breath, Chase carried the garbage can through the rear exit.
"Barn's out this way," he called through the screen door. "There's the truck I told you about."
She glimpsed a vintage Chevrolet, parked in the shadows of a two-story barn, and tried to picture herself behind the wheel.
"Bedrooms are on the other side of the house," Chase said, herding them toward a hallway.
The odor of must and stale liquor kept them from venturing inside the first room.
"This was Linc's study." Chase braved the stench to throw back the curtains and wrestle the windows open, one of them with the broken pane that she'd noticed out front.
The
A hundred yards down the driveway, the trees gave way to prairie grass interspersed with towering sunflowers and Indian paintbrush. The driveway curved, and a bungalow, complete with stone chimney, sloping roof, and covered porch came into view. It stood in the clearing, flanked by a red barn and shaded by a mammoth pecan tree.
One of the tree's limbs had been sheared by lightning and lay across the driveway. Chase drove around it, into the tall grass, which tickled the underbelly of his car.
As they pulled up before the house, she could see that weeds choked the steps to the porch. A window on one side had been broken, leaving behind a gaping hole. At least the structure itself was standing and appeared intact.
Chase cut the engine and stared at it grimly.
"It's in worse shape than you thought?" Sara guessed.
"It's pretty run-down," he agreed.
Obviously it was going to be a chore to fix it up in a couple weeks' time.
Kendal gave a sudden gasp. "Look, someone's runnin' into the woods!"
They peered in the direction that he pointed, catching sight of a man dodging through the tall grass, headed for the trees.
Chase jumped out of the car and flipped the seat forward. "Get him, Jess!"
Jesse bolted. Whether he'd seen the man flee was anyone's guess, but he took off in the direction that Chase had indicated, tearing after the trespasser with every indication of knowing what he was doing.
Chase reached under his seat for his gun, causing Sara's pulse to quicken. "Stay put," he instructed, heading for the house.
"Kendal, keep your head down," Sara advised her son.
Welcome to the Wild West, she thought, with an inappropriate urge to giggle, as she and Kendal scrunched down in their seats.
Time slowed to a crawl.
"Was someone s'posed to be here?" Kendal whispered.
"I don't think so," Sarah admitted. It flashed through her mind that Garret had guessed her destination and set a trap for her, but she dismissed the thought as paranoid. The police would have been waiting for them if that were the case.
Chase emerged from the house scowling. He whistled for the dog, a sound that must have carried for miles.
"House is clear," he said, opening her door for her. "It was just a squatter hopin' to lay claim to an empty building. He left a mess behind, though. Come on in. We'll get our stuff later."
They filed out, trailing Chase up the porch steps. Ceramic pots of every shape and size littered the porch. Some previous occupant had liked to garden. Chase's mother? she wondered.
Chase pushed the door open. A musty odor greeted them as they stepped into a dark interior. "Electricity's turned off," he explained. He pulled heavy drapes away from the window, and light flooded in.
Sara's eyes widened. The main room boasted a stone hearth, exposed beams, a large sofa, hardwood floors, and a rust-and-cream-colored rug. "Oh, this is nice," she said, noting the gold-framed mirror and faded prints on the once-white walls.
"Kitchen's over here," Chase said, turning away.
Following him, she noted the dated cabinets and orange Formica countertops, littered with empty wrappers. Chase hadn't exaggerated to say that the squatter had left a mess behind. Dirty dishes filled the sink, and the garbage overflowed, making Kendal pinch his nose.
Muttering under his breath, Chase carried the garbage can through the rear exit.
"Barn's out this way," he called through the screen door. "There's the truck I told you about."
She glimpsed a vintage Chevrolet, parked in the shadows of a two-story barn, and tried to picture herself behind the wheel.
"Bedrooms are on the other side of the house," Chase said, herding them toward a hallway.
The odor of must and stale liquor kept them from venturing inside the first room.
"This was Linc's study." Chase braved the stench to throw back the curtains and wrestle the windows open, one of them with the broken pane that she'd noticed out front.
The
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