failed to notice that someone had approached until she heard the deadly, unmistakable sound of the slide of a pump action shotgun being primed. Her eyes flew up to study this new threat standing in the shadows.
She heard a male voice giving the command for the dog to stay, but not calling it off. She could only make out the silhouette of a man standing about twenty feet from her.
“You move one inch, buddy, and I’ll turn him loose on you!” the man threatened. As if to reinforce that statement, the dog emitted another menacing growl.
Trying to find her voice, she swallowed. It felt as if her heart was in her throat. Before she could form the words to explain, a floodlight, high up on a utility pole, flipped on, filling the driveway and yard with light.
She could see the man clearly now. He was about six feet tall with dark hair and a goatee. He was young, about twenty-five to thirty years old, she guessed, but the thing she noticed the most was the shocked look that came over his face as he got a good look at her.
Slowly the shotgun lowered.
“Jesus, lady, what happened to you?” he asked in a stunned whisper.
She took a step forward, intending to ask for help, and immediately was brought up short by another low growl from the dog. She heard a harsh command for the dog to sit, and she looked up to see another man approaching from the house. This one was about an inch or two taller than the man with the shotgun. He had a scowl on his face.
She could tell immediately he was in charge. It was written all over him, from the way he walked, to the way he took command of the situation.
He was well built, his shoulders broad, his waist slim. The sleeves of his denim shirt were rolled up to reveal arms, tanned and muscled. He had dark blonde hair, streaked with lighter gold in places, as if he spent hours in the sun. His eyes were a bright blue, and his face was lean and tanned, except for the lighter squint lines around his eyes.
She watched as his gaze swept over her from head to toe. She felt mute and paralyzed, unable to think of anything to say to these two men. Would she find help here, or more danger? If the shotgun was any indication, her chances didn’t look good.
“Ma’am, are you okay? You have an accident or something?” the blonde man asked.
“I…I don’t know…I fell, I think…”
“You think?” He looked to his companion, and then at her. “What’s your name?”
She hesitated, looking down at the ground a moment, thinking. When she looked back up at him, there were tears in her eyes.
He wasn’t sure whether it was that, or what she whispered that knocked the breath out of him. “What did you say?” he asked, not sure he’d heard her correctly.
In a small trembling voice she repeated, “I said, I don’t know. I can’t remember my name. I can’t remember…anything.”
The two men exchanged a look, not sure what to make of an answer like that.
“What do you mean, you don’t know?” the blonde man asked.
“I…I can’t remember.”
“What’s your name, darlin’? It’s a simple question,” he pressed.
“I told you. I don’t know.”
“You don’t know your own name?” he asked, disbelieving.
She shook her head, the movement barely perceptible, as the gravity of her situation hit her. If they didn’t help her, what would she do? Maybe she could use their phone, but she didn’t even know whom to call. Was there anyone worrying about her, even now?
A tear slowly slid down her cheek. “Please help me. I don’t know who I am, or where I am…I…” She began to feel dizzy, and the last thing she saw was the stunned look on their faces as everything went black, and she crumpled to the gravel drive.
“She’s breathing. She just passed out,” the blonde man said.
The two men were squatted down next to the girl’s prone body, lying in the gravel drive. They leaned over her, and noticed the lump on her forehead.
“Well, the blow to the head would explain the memory loss, I guess,” the man with the shotgun said, setting the gun down on the ground. He reached to lift the woman’s head up, and his hand came away with blood on it. “Damn, Steve. She’s bleeding.” He turned her head, and brushed aside her hair.
They both saw the wound on her head, and exchanged knowing looks. Both of them had hunted long enough to know a bullet graze when they saw one.
“Jesus, Steve! Somebody shot at her, and came damn close to killing her. If that bullet had come a fraction closer…”
“Where the hell did she come from, Cary?” Steve murmured, looking up the drive, toward the road, searching for a vehicle.
“Damned if I know. I was sitting on the front porch, smoking a cigarette, and all of a sudden, Rocky takes off down the driveway, growling. I grabbed the shotgun, and followed. She was walking up the drive. I never heard a car pull up. I think she’s on foot.”
Watch for
RUBY FALLS
By
Nicole James
Coming Summer 2013