Call the sheriff. I’ll do whatever I can to cooperate with an investigation.”
Though his obvious struggle made her curious, Elise didn’t give Cutch an opportunity to change his mind. She pulled her phone back out and started to dial.
“I’m going back down,” Cutch said quietly, then turned and headed for the stairs.
“Wait,” she called after him, her finger hesitating over the Send button. “You’re not going to leave me out here all alone, are you?” She didn’t know who had been shooting at her or where they were now. The last thing she wanted was to be left alone where they might catch up to her.
“Of course not. I just thought you might appreciate some privacy. I’ll wait on the ground for you to finish your call.” He looked slightly injured that she might have thought he’d abandon her.
Elise felt chastised and realized she was infringing on his time. “You don’t have somewhere else you need to be?”
“Nothing so important that I’d leave you out here.”
The look in his eyes addled her brain. She couldn’t decide if he looked resentful or hurt or honestly as though he cared about her. Though she knew that last one couldn’t be it, she couldn’t deny the gentle compassion that fueled his words. Not willing to think about why he’d speak to her like that, she pressed Send and held the phone to her ear.
Cutch headed down the stairs of the lookout tower, and Elise watched him go, her heart still hammering hard, though the fear and the long run through the woods was now twenty minutes or more behind her. No, she was pretty sure the reason her heart was hammering was Henry McCutcheon IV.
Cutch slowly walked to his truck, listening to the sound of Elise’s voice over the birdsong in the woods around them. He couldn’t clearly make out any of her words any more than he could sort out how his morning had taken such an about-face turn in one startled moment.
When he’d headed out to clear trees that morning, he’d promised his mother he’d be back to the house in time for his dad’s exam. That was the whole reason they’d scheduled it for a Saturday—so he could be there. The home-visit nurse was set to arrive in less than ten minutes. There was absolutely no way he could make it there in time—not unless he abandoned Elise. He pulled out his phone and called his mother, letting her know he’d stopped to help a friend and wouldn’t be back in time for the appointment.
As much as Cutch wanted to be there to support his parents through the most difficult parts of his father’s hospice treatment, he knew ultimately there wasn’t any tangible reason for him to be there. No matter what he did, his father was going to die. He’d accepted the inevitable, though it tore at him.
After placing the call, Cutch shoved his phone back into his pocket and leaned on the truck. On the lookout tower above him, he could still hear Elise talking. He closed his eyes and listened to the feminine cadence of her voice carrying on the late summer breeze.
Elise. Falling in love with her eight years before had been too easy. Getting over her—well, the only way he’d figured out to cope with that was to pretend she didn’t exist. He’d long ago given up trying to sort out a way to make a relationship between them work. McCutcheons and McAlisters were destined to hate each other. He’d endured enough heartache the last time he’d tried to defy that truth.
Though he tried to cut off his feelings toward her, his heart squeezed thinking about how frightened she’d been when she’d jumped into his truck. Who would have been on his property that morning? No one was supposed to have been out there, certainly not with a gun. He had No Trespassing and No Hunting signs posted all around the property’s perimeter. His land was a tranquil retreat—not a place for a young woman to be shot out of the sky and left running for her life.
Could it have been an accident? From what he’d seen of her crash from his truck, she’d gone down pretty fast. In fact, he’d slowed down and been watching the woods when she’d burst out of the bushes in front of him. Though he didn’t know of anyone else in Holyoake County who owned a powered hang glider, he was still shocked to see her frightened face when he’d opened the door of his truck.
But why would someone want to hurt Elise? Other than the McCutcheons, who’d held a grudge against the McAlisters for far too long in his opinion, there wasn’t anyone in town who didn’t like Elise—at least not that he knew of. She was a sweet, spunky girl whose soft side showed through a little more than she’d like. He smiled just thinking about her.
At the sound of footsteps, Cutch looked up and watched Elise trotting lightly down the steps. She appeared to be in better spirits and certainly looked less shaken. Relief coursed through him. He hadn’t liked seeing her so distraught.
“Did you get in touch with the sheriff?” he asked.
“Yes.” She offered him a smile. “I spoke with Sheriff Bromley. He agreed there probably wasn’t much sense in him driving out here when we don’t have a crime scene for him to look at. But he took down all the details I could remember.”
“And you’re all right with that?” Cutch pressed.
Elise looked sheepish. “I guess I feel a little silly asking him to come out here and poke around when there probably isn’t much for him to find.”
“But if someone tried to kill you—”
“We don’t know for a fact that’s what they were doing.”
“That’s not the conclusion you reached earlier.”
“I’m calmer now that I’ve talked with Sheriff Bromley. He didn’t sound too concerned—”
“He didn’t sound concerned?” Cutch had to interrupt. Elise’s safety was important, even if she didn’t think so.
“Well, of course he was concerned for me. But he didn’t figure there would still be any threat now that I got away safely. Probably just some teenagers goofing around.” She shrugged.
“Teenagers? Goofing around by shooting buckshot at a person? The teenagers I know are all smarter than that.” Cutch didn’t want to upset her, but he’d rather have her upset than dead. And if she underestimated the threat against her, well, he didn’t want to consider what could happen.
Elise glared at him. “Whatever. You should be glad I’m not pressing charges against you.”
“Charges for what? Picking you up before the gunmen caught up to you?”
“No. Because I was being shot at from your land.” Her nostrils flared as she glared at him. “I need to call someone to come pick me up.”
“No, you don’t. I can give you a ride. Where are you headed?” He didn’t like the way she accused him, then dismissed him. Did she really not trust him at all?
“The airfield. But that’s really not necessary.”
“It’s no problem,” he insisted, rounding the truck to the driver’s seat.
She didn’t budge from where she stood in front of his truck. Her lips twitched, but she didn’t speak.
He met her eyes. Why did she have to be so stubborn, anyway? “Elise?”
She
