Page 14 of Valor (Long Hot Summer: Christian Romantic Suspense #2)

CHAPTER ONE

Heather Sundin slowed her car to a crawl as she approached the house she shared with her father. He was supposed to have been out on a photo shoot, but his rusty pickup sat in the driveway and an unfamiliar sedan sat parked half inside the garage, blocking his truck.

Apprehension skittered up her arms to her neck. Who was at her house and why was her father still home? Dad was punctual to a fault and rigid in his ideas of right and wrong. He would never miss an appointment with a client. She parked her car in the street instead of her usual spot next to Dad’s truck. Nothing else seemed out of place, but the way the car was parked seemed completely odd. Someone sitting inside the car turned to look at her.

They weren’t familiar. As soon as he saw her, he put a phone up to his ear. In the next instant, shots broke out inside and she dove for cover behind a nearby bush. Her heart raced as she covered her head. Was Dad in there? Were they shooting at him or her? She crawled to the opposite end of the bush as gravel crushed into her palms. Two men shoved her father into the back seat of the car, his hands zip-tied behind his back.

“Where is she?” a man with a gun pointed in the air yelled at the man in the car. He wore a dark suit with sunglasses, despite the cloudy conditions and chilly late-September air.

“Dove into the bushes. I’ll wait,” said the man in the car.

He turned and strode in her direction. She hunted for somewhere she could hide. Oliver Thornquist, the elderly neighbor her father often argued with, had left his garage door open. If she could dash inside and close the door quickly, the protection might be enough to stop the man from coming after her. Plus, Oliver was a recluse who never left home.

She pushed against the ground, losing her footing in the gravel surrounding the bush. The man took chase behind her, his heavy footfalls picking up speed from less than twenty yards away. A shot blast startled her. When she didn’t feel pain, she silently thanked God and raced for the open bay just ahead.

He came faster, but didn’t shoot again. Either he was a poor aim, or he wanted her alive for now. She would be an easy target if he took a few more shots. Heather slid to a stop in front of the control panel just inside the garage and pressed the button to close the door, wildly pressing it over and over, chanting, “Come on, close!” Thank God for neighbors.

The door slowly lumbered down, and the man dove to get underneath. His arms were temporarily trapped. The pushback engaged the safety mechanism, making the motor reverse and head back up.

“No, no, no!” she yelled at it as he swiped for her feet.

She stomped on his closest hand, grinding the heel of her tennis shoes into his palm. He screamed, and she pushed in the button once again, then released him. The last thing she wanted was for him to be trapped there. If he could get his gun hand under the door, she was a goner.

When the door almost reached his hand again, she took a chance and kicked his fingers, forcing him back so the door could close all the way. In the next instant, bullets penetrated the thin metal of the garage door, sharp gouges with light appeared scattered over one section. She screamed and raced for the door to Oliver’s house in the dark garage.

Oliver slammed open the door to his house, holding his trusty 12 gauge. “Get inside!” he yelled as he loaded the gun.

She didn’t question him, hoping the old man didn’t hurt himself by offering to help her. She hid behind the nearest couch, her whole body shaking as the explosive concussion of Oliver’s gun silenced everything. Was she unable to hear anymore or had the kidnapper run away?

“Blast, he got away.” Oliver closed his door and grumbled, “I wanted to replace that old door anyway. You okay?” He tentatively looked over the back of the sofa down at her.

“I think so.” She looked herself over. “But Dad isn’t. They took him. Why would someone take Dad?” Her chest tightened. She didn’t want to cry, but he was all she had in this world now that Mom was gone. What if they kill him? “I’ve got to get him back.”

Oliver reached out a hand to help her up. “Not likely. You should go to the sheriff. I know your dad doesn’t like him, but you need his help. I’ve got to file a report with him either way since they shot up my garage.” Oliver headed for the phone.

Dad had been clear that he’d rather see an antelope elected sheriff over Allen Pendleton. While he’d never shared what his secret beef with the now-sheriff was, she still hesitated to trust the man. Why would her father distrust him if he hadn’t earned it?

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’ll tell one of his deputies.” She clutched her middle, feeling slightly silly about calling two officers to the same location. Still, Dad wouldn’t want Allen looking for him.

Sickness roiled in her stomach at the thought of what might be waiting for her. What would she find at home? Would the place be destroyed? Would there be clues as to why someone had taken her dad? Had they meant to take him, or had they been such poor shots because they were really after her?

She shook the thought from her head. Why would anyone be after her? She did nothing out of the ordinary and didn’t know anyone of consequence. Then again, neither did her father.

Oliver picked up the yellowed phone with a cord that could probably reach from one end of his house to the other and snorted. “You tell who you want. I want the head guy when I get shot at.” He dialed, the phone making strange clicking noises as it returned to its resting position. She hadn’t even realized rotary phones would still work.

“Marlys? Yeah, you don’t need to run through all that technical stuff with me. This is Oliver Thornquist. We’ve had a shooting over on Elm Street.”

Heather couldn’t even laugh at the way Oliver talked to the dispatcher, since they’d all gone to church together for as long as Heather could remember. She even knew Marlys’s favorite food when everyone brought in dishes for potluck.

Oliver hung up the phone and headed for the sofa. “I didn’t want to wait on the line until the sheriff arrived. I’m too busy for that.” He grabbed his gun from where he’d rested it against the sofa and stowed it behind a door. He then headed for the wide front window and peered outside. “I wish I’d noticed something was going on. I’d have come out or called the police sooner. The car wasn’t familiar to me. Did you recognize it?” He glanced over his shoulder at her.

Heather closed her eyes. “I didn’t recognize any of them. The car was a silver sedan. High end, but I don’t know what kind.” It had been the type she saw sitting in parking lots of people who made lots of money. “I didn’t recognize it or the man inside. I definitely didn’t know the man who came after me.”

Oliver turned to face her. “Why do you think that was? Do you have any enemies? Does your dad?”

The police would want to know that too. Other than fellow photographers who might say a few mean things to her in competition, or the current sheriff who might hold a grudge about her father’s vocal disagreement during the last election, there wasn’t anyone she could think of.

“Allen is on his way. He’ll be here in a minute. I told him there were no injuries, just holes in my door, both coming and going.” The old man grinned like he wasn’t talking about bullets flying.

“I heard a shot come from my house. Dad didn’t look injured, but they scuttled him away quickly and I was behind a bush. What if he was shot?” She had to get a grip on herself. There was no way she could help her dad if she wasn’t calm.

“How did they know you were there?” Oliver asked, his eyes narrowing on her.

“The guy in the car saw me arrive home. I guess if he hadn’t, I’d have walked in on them. Something about him gave me the creeps and I paused for a second.”

“He saw you and now knows where you live?” Oliver suddenly sounded worried. “You might want to stay somewhere else for a while until the police figure out what’s going on.”

She might be able to make a sketch of the man who’d shot at her, though he’d been wearing sunglasses, so his eyes weren’t visible. The guy in the car had been too far away to tell anything other than that he wasn’t familiar. “You think they’ll come back?”

Oliver slowly sat down on the sofa near her. “If they didn’t kill your dad outright to get what they wanted in your house, then they didn’t get what they were aiming for. Maybe they need something like information. Your dad could be collateral for something you have. Maybe you know something they want to know. Maybe they know you won’t give up until you find your dad. That man was close to you. If he’d wanted you dead, he had seventeen rounds total. You’d have been dead. He was trying to scare you into tripping, stopping, or giving up.”

Heather swallowed hard. “They may have been after me?” She’d been certain that couldn’t be the case.

He nodded. “I’d almost guarantee it.”

She couldn’t breathe. What could she have or know that someone would want? She was nothing but a photographer. “I should go home. Those men wouldn’t come back when they know the police are on their way. I could look through the house to find whatever they wanted. I don’t know anything. They can’t be looking for information.”

She searched her recent memory for anything that might be considered threatening. The only odd thing had been a couple of men who’d approached Heather and her father when they’d been photographing a particularly fantastic sunset over the Badlands. They had asked to have their pictures taken, yet they were too agitated to smile. They’d asked Heather to use their phone, which hadn’t bothered her in the slightest, but they’d crowded around her afterward to see the shots, so close they’d almost stepped on her expensive equipment. That wasn’t a threat though.

“Whether or not you know why they’re after you, you or something you did is on the radar of someone who wants to harm you.” He laid a hand on her shoulder. “I know your dad has strong feelings about the sheriff, but those of us who know him know he’s a good man and the right man for this job.”

A knock on the door interrupted their talk, and the hairs on her arms stood on end. She had avoided the sheriff for almost a year since his election. For the last ten months, she couldn’t think of a single thing he’d done that would prove her father’s assessment of the man, but that didn’t change how her father felt, nor was he here to ask.

Her heart gave a little jump as Allen’s voice came from the door a few feet away. While she didn’t want to face him, ever, this situation needed the best man available. The sheriff had to be the best.

She stood and forced herself to put on a brave face she didn’t feel. “Sheriff, thank you for coming.”

He glanced up at her and back at Oliver. “You didn’t mention anyone else was involved.”

She swallowed hard. Maybe he had stronger feelings toward her father’s actions than she thought. “I can call in someone else if you don’t want to handle my side of the situation. I totally get it.” She’d forgotten her purse with her phone in it when she’d seen the odd car in her driveway. “I’ll go outside, grab my phone from my car, and make the call.” Except the broad-shouldered sheriff stood right in the door and he didn’t seem like he wanted to move out of her way.

“I think I can manage this if your cases are connected.” He waited for her response, his deep blue eyes assessing hers.

The man’s gaze was unnerving, like he could read her mind. When she nodded her agreement, he continued, “Can you describe the man who did this?”

Oliver offered the sheriff a seat at his round dining room table and turned on an overhead light that had yellowed with age and she could only call ‘vintage’. “Might as well have a seat. This could take a while.” His laugh was more like a wheeze.

Heather froze, unsure if she was invited to participate in this or if she should go with her gut and wait. Her options were slim. Wall, South Dakota, was a small town despite being one of the most famous places in the state. The police department had few people as there wasn’t a lot of need for a big force.

“Heather?” Sheriff Pendleton tapped the table a few feet from him for her to sit down. “We should get your account of what happened too.”

Why did his voice do strange things to her insides? Nerves. It had to be nerves over her father and her worry that Allan Pendleton wouldn’t take this case seriously if he knew he would be hunting for the man who’d tried to ruin his political campaign. Allen’s livelihood had been in the balance. Was that enough to ignore an abduction?

“I need to let you know. This is about Dad. Not me. If that makes you want me to call someone else, that’s fine.”

Their eyes locked from across the room, and with the intensity in his, she wasn’t sure she wanted him to answer.

* * *

Allen looked at the obviously worried and frightened Heather Sundin. She couldn’t know that her father’s campaign to smear him in the last election had sent him down a major rabbit hole that changed his life. Not for the better. He tried his best to be the sheriff everyone needed, but after that, doubts assailed him about his abilities. Could he ever be a great sheriff with the secret only he and obviously Heather’s father knew?

He opened his mouth to answer, then closed it. What if Heather knew, too? Was that the reason she didn’t want to work with him, or was it merely because of her father’s distrust? “I promise you I will handle this case with the utmost care. I’m sworn to serve and protect, and I will do that until my dying breath.” Especially if that made up for a past he couldn’t control.

Heather nodded with short, choppy movements. Clearly, she didn’t trust his word and he made her nervous. She tugged out the chair and he noted her shaking hands as she sat. They were delicate artist’s hands. He fought the urge to reach out to try to calm her.

He drew a small notebook from his back pocket and took his seat. “Oliver, since you called, would you like to go first?” Usually, he would have someone else interview one person and he would interview the other, but he’d been told Oliver was the only one there. His gut told him that, in this case, he’d get more information interviewing both at once. It was against protocol, but his gut was rarely wrong.

“Sure, but the story starts with Heather. I heard some shots and screaming from outside. If my old ears can hear it, it’s mighty loud. Heather and I are the only ones this far down on the street who are home at this time of day. So, whoever did this probably knew the area and that they wouldn’t be seen, though, I’ll be honest, I’ve never seen that car before.”

Heather interrupted the man with a quick raise of her hand. “I wouldn’t normally be home this time of day either, and Dad was supposed to be at a photo shoot. The house should’ve been empty.”

Red flags went up in Allen’s head. “Why do you think he was still home? Could he be a part of this?” He hated to go that route, but he had to ask. Could his thoughts be contaminated by bias? Maybe. But that was a question that needed an answer.

Heather immediately looked hurt. Her shoulders curved in, mouth dropped open, and she hugged her middle. “Never. Dad was far too honorable to get mixed up in anything illegal. He hates dishonesty.”

Allen hid his internal reaction that felt like a gut-punch. She was telling the truth and probably jabbing him with an invisible knife, just as he’d done to her by asking the question. He hadn’t realized how much Ed Sundin would be opposed to dishonesty until Allen had gone hunting for the truth. “Point taken. So, can you tell me why you think he was still there?”

She swallowed hard enough to hear it, and he watched the subtle changes in her face as she spoke. “It would only be a guess, of course. I think, whoever that was, caught him as he was about to leave. The car they drove blocked his truck in. My father would’ve only opened the door to the garage if he was packing his truck and was about to leave. He liked the natural light instead of the overhead one when he puts his equipment in his truck.”

That was an astute observation. “That makes sense. Do you think he could’ve caught them trying to steal his equipment?”

Her brow puckered, making her lips look fuller. He had to stop looking anywhere but in her eyes. She was too pretty by far.

“I don’t think so, but I haven’t checked his truck yet.” Her glance dashed to the door.

He held up his hand to stop her. “You said you heard shooting?”

She nodded again and closed her eyes. “I got out of my car, thinking that I would ask what the person needed. Maybe they were a client of my dad’s who I didn’t know. I didn’t think the worst right away. As soon as the man in the car saw me, he put his phone to his face and said something, then there were shots fired inside my house. I dove behind the bush.” She ducked her head. “They brought Dad out, and I wanted to help him but couldn’t.”

Oliver cleared his throat and rested a hand over Heather’s. “That’s where I come in. I heard the shots and went to my window. I can’t see her house from here, but the whole street is within sight. The shots seemed to come from her side of my lot. I saw Heather make a run for my garage and a man was chasing her with a gun. He took at least one shot toward her but didn’t hit her.”

Allen took down everything the man said. Something seemed off though. Why take the man hostage and why shoot at Heather at such a close range and miss? Either the man was the worst shot imaginable, or he intended to miss. “Go on.”

Oliver grinned. “I was waiting for you to catch up.”

He liked the old man who’d always treated him and his whole team with respect. “Thank you, I’m good now.”

“I heard the garage door closing, but I also heard Heather scream. That’s when I knew I had to get involved. I went to my door to the garage and saw her defending herself. The guy outside started blasting bullets through my garage door, but again, nowhere near where Heather was. I aimed with my shotgun at roughly the place I thought the man might be. I’d be surprised if I didn’t put a hole in his car, but he was using deadly force and I’m not sorry.”

Allan nodded at his assessment. They’d have to investigate, but given the fact that Oliver missed his target, it would likely lead nowhere. “I radioed the nearest ambulance and hospital. Neither have any recent shooting victims, so you didn’t hit anyone. Let’s hope you hit the vehicle though, so when we find it, that’s proof they were here.”

Oliver nodded as if he liked that idea. “They drove away, and that’s when I called you.”

He took a deep breath. Now was when he’d have to take Heather over to her house and see what the kidnappers had done and check for anything stolen.

“Allen?” Oliver asked. “I told Heather that I think those men were after her. It would’ve been too easy to kill her if all they wanted was to make sure she didn’t tell anyone what they looked like. They took her father instead of killing him. I may be wrong, but I think there’s more to this than meets the eye. That guy was only a few feet behind her. There’s no way he missed without trying to.”

He had to agree with the older man. “I think you’re onto something. Heather, if you’re willing, we should go to your house and see what went on over there. Maybe they left clues about what they could be after in what they looked through at your house. Don’t touch anything until I can get a crew in there, but I want to know if anything was stolen.”

He expected her to pale or shake her head. Most people didn’t have the stomach for facing situations like this head-on and he couldn’t blame them. Even after training, there were things about his job he did because he had to. Instead, she resolutely stood and pushed in her chair.

“Thank you, Oliver. I appreciate your help so much. I’m sure, without you, I’d have been in that car with Dad.”

Allen followed her to the front door and finally laid a hand on her shoulder. She tensed and her mouth opened slightly in surprise. He couldn’t argue that he was surprised too. Touching her had made every feeling come alive, feelings he had no business examining. He had to do his job to the best of his ability, or he’d never overcome his past. “Let’s go.”

She allowed him to go first, and he put on protective boot covers and gloves, then drew his pistol in case the attackers left anyone behind to surprise Heather when she returned to her house. He slowly opened her door and motioned for her to stay just outside until he cleared the house.

Everything within sight was toppled or trashed. Furniture had been slashed. File cabinets were hanging open, with files spread all over the floor. A laptop lay broken next to a desk. Where they’d held off in harming Heather, there was anger in how they’d handled her living quarters. He couldn’t deny someone was after her and they wanted something badly.

He checked the whole house. Finding no one, he opened the door and let her inside. “I was hoping there would be a more centralized area of damage, but they took their time looking for something that apparently wasn’t here.” He motioned around the ransacked room. “I’m sorry to have to bring you in here.” Especially with the splotches of blood left in a few areas. Though it wasn’t enough to put her father’s life in danger, they’d done something to him to either get information or direction.

“Oh, Dad.” Heather kneeled in front of the broken laptop but didn’t touch it. “Can I move it?”

He sighed and shook his head. “No. I need my team to come in and process everything for prints, hairs, anything that might lead us to who did this.”

She nodded and stood back up. “I have no idea if anything was taken. They even broke his camera and dumped out his case.” She pointed to a large blue bag on the floor near the sliced sofa. Three large lenses laid next to it with the camera haphazardly piled on top. He hoped it wasn’t broken beyond repair. Cameras like that were expensive, and that was how Heather and her father made their living.

He spied something on the desk he hadn’t noticed and tugged a plastic evidence bag from his back pocket.

“What’s that?” Heather’s eyes went wide.

A postcard of the Badlands lay on the desk, propped up like it was important. He gently lifted it by a corner and turned it over to see if they’d written a message.

‘Give me the drive or you’re dead’ was written in block letters on the back of the card along with a date and what appeared to be coordinates. “Do you have anywhere you can safely stay for a while? Maybe with your mom or another relative?” He didn’t know anything about her family other than that her dad didn’t like him. This house wouldn’t be processed for quite some time, and it wasn’t safe for her to stay here.

Heather slowly shook her head. “Mom passed away two years ago. It’s just me and Dad now. I don’t have anywhere to go.”

Wall was too small to have a place where people could hide, like a safe house. There were hotels, but with tourist season ending, they were full. The only place he knew would be available and safe was his own house, and he didn’t want to offer that unless he had to. His mind screamed at him that it was a mistake at best and unprofessional at worst. He opened his mouth as a shot rang out, blasting through the house and into the wall near Heather’s head, shattering a window behind her.

He grabbed her and dragged her to the floor, covering her with one side of his body. With his free hand, he pulled out his radio and called for backup. “Stay here,” he commanded Heather.

With slow precision, he belly-crawled to the back door. Without letting the shooter know where he was, he hoped the assailant would still be there, allowing him to take chase. A few feet away from the sliding glass door, he saw a man standing in the backyard, watching the house. He hadn’t been there when Allen had looked out the windows earlier, so he must have been hiding elsewhere.

Allen analyzed the situation. If he shot from the house, through the back door, the sound might deafen both him and Heather temporarily. A burst eardrum was a risk, but he’d rather get a better shot or even a chance to catch that guy. A dead man couldn’t lead them to Heather’s father.

Inching closer to the back door, the man looked straight at him and raced off. Allen jumped to his feet, heading for the back door, when Heather’s scream cut him short.

He slid to a stop and turned back to face her. She held a hand out in front of her, blood dripping from her palm. He took one last look out the back door, but the shooter was gone.

“What happened?”

She looked up with apology in her eyes. “I think the glass from the window sliced my hand. I’m sorry.”

One thing was certain, he had to keep Heather safe because someone was after her, and they wanted more than the blood from her hand.