Minutes later, headed for Zeke’s place, Dena concentrated on her mental to-do list. Misjudging the sharp turn to Zeke’s private road, she swerved and ended up on the shoulder. The tires spun in the soft sand, and the car lurched onto the blacktop and jolted her forward, slamming her into the steering wheel. She pulled in a deep breath and rubbed at her chest. Thank goodness the airbags didn’t inflate.
There was a sharp sound and the Mustang shuddered. A second later, something whizzed by the front windshield. She lowered her body as far as she could, her heart pounding, and floored the accelerator. She’d gone to the firing range with her ex-husband enough times to know that sound.
Someone shot at her.
****
Hearing a screech of tires, Zeke turned and looked out the office window. Dena Roman’s car swerved into his driveway and missed the center divider by about an inch. “What the—?”
He’d taken a risk in inviting her here; he knew trouble. And being a lawyer, damn it, he knew better than to take her near a restricted police investigation site. He grimaced. Could this ride be more about his curiosity than hers?
She climbed out of the car as he checked his watch. Five minutes to nine. Good, he disliked tardiness. He narrowed his eyes. What a crazy driver. At least she knew how to dress for horseback riding. Her blue jeans hugged her small frame. He dropped his gaze from the roundness of her rear end, swung around in his office chair, and pressed the intercom.
“Irma, Ms. Roman has arrived. Be nice to her.”
Irma responded in Spanish about always being nice.
“Yeah, right,” Zeke said dryly. Irma thought it her job to be protective of Three C’s and the Cabrera family. She tended to think every visitor had an ulterior motive. He glanced out the window again. Maybe this one did.
Dena crouched beside the car. She looked back down the road, then scurried around to the passenger side. Still crouching, she ran a hand over the passenger car door, and after a few more furtive glances, reached in and started to load her arms with things. Zeke sensed danger and strode down the hall.
Irma and Dena stood in the foyer.
“Someone shot at me!” Dena rushed toward him. Her bottom lip trembled. “Who…who would do that?”
Terror was written across her face. He reached out a hand, drew it back. “Are you hurt? Where did it happen?”
“Just after I drove onto your private road—”
“What? Wait a minute.” He grabbed her elbow and eased her into a chair. She dropped a coat hanger of clothes, a pair of high heels, her purse and laptop onto the foyer floor.
“I’m a bit shaky, but I’m not hurt,” Dena mumbled, and lowered her head to almost between her knees.
“I get water,” Irma said, and hurried to the kitchen.
“Tell me exactly what happened.” Zeke kneeled on the tile floor beside her and stroked the top of her arm.
She raised her head. “There’s a hole in the side of my car. I…I could have…could have been killed. Two shots.” She raised two fingers then took in a huge gulp of air.
Zeke took the water glass from Irma.
“Sip it,” he said to Dena, and held the glass to her lips. “You’ve had an awful shock.” He turned his head. “Grab my phone, please, Irma.”
Irma returned a couple of minutes later and handed him his BlackBerry. He still hadn’t made much sense of Dena’s ramblings.
“Who would try to kill me?” Dena asked again. She took the glass from him and drained it. Irma bustled over and retrieved it.
“I’ve no idea. But we’ll find out.” Zeke relayed the information to the deputy on desk duty.
“There was a report made ten minutes ago from Johnston’s place,” the Deputy said. “Some kids were out hunting. Cyril said he chased them off the property. Too far away to identify anyone. Said he thought they might have had BB guns.”
“I see,” Zeke said, cell phone pressed to his ear. Dena turned her face upward. He nodded a few times as he listened.
“We’ll send someone out,” the deputy said. “File a report. It’ll be a while, we’re short on staff.”
“No problem, she’ll be here for the morning. Thanks.”
Zeke shoved the phone in his pocket. Dena’s color had returned, and she no longer trembled. “It might have been kids hunting rabbits, using BB guns.”
“Rabbits?” The haunted look faded from her blue eyes as she stared at him. “Hunting, yes…I suppose so.”