Lost & Found - Jacqueline Sheehan [78]
The flashlight was in the truck, and if the dog had been with her, she would have gone to get it. Or if Tess was with her, she would have gone to get it. But here alone, not needing to take care of anyone else and not caring very much what happened because all the worst things had already happened, she stepped into the barn and waited for her eyes to adjust to the gray light. Late-afternoon sunlight came in through two dust-covered windows. She sat gingerly on a wood chair that needed webbing on the seat.
Someone had shot Cooper out here. He had to have been shot on the island. And by all accounts, no matter how difficult Liz’s life had been at times, she loved Cooper more than anything or anyone else. The two of them must have had just a few days of their new life on the island before things went terribly wrong. Rocky scratched the heel of her shoes along the dirt floor and the low rays of sun caught the disturbed dust. She sat until her bottom ached from the cold.
Her heart double-timed as she heard a truck pull up. She was terrified that it was Hill, because if he knew about the Hamilton place, then he had lied about everything. Could he have shot Cooper? Rocky went to a dust-covered window and peered out.
Rocky knew it was Peter, the boyfriend of the dead woman, the minute he stepped out of his SUV. The windows were tinted dark, the color of the vehicle was dark; she still couldn’t tell exactly what color in the approaching twilight. She was obviously here; her truck was outside. She walked out of the barn, mustering all of her best body language to appear confident and official.
What was it, how did neediness and obsession get exactly translated by the way he held his shoulders in so tight that she could see it through his jacket? And the way he walked straight toward her, and smiled with the bottom half of his face while his eyes hooked into her.
“Shit,” thought Rocky.
What do you do if you meet a bear on the trail, or a mountain lion, or any of the big predators? Those were the only two she could think of, and she was pretty sure that most black bears were more interested in bird feeders and compost. You didn’t run, she remembered that much. Bob had told her that in the animal world it really is about size or about perceived power. Make yourself bigger, turn and face them, maybe back up slowly, which she didn’t think was such a good idea in this instance because that would put her back in the empty barn, and more than anything she didn’t want to be in the barn with this man. She scanned the area for something large to pick up, like a thick branch, all without moving her head. Turn and face him and make yourself bigger. No backing up.
“I saw your truck. Are you the animal control lady? Someone at the dock said you drove a yellow truck. I think you have a dog that I’m looking for.”
He stopped four feet from Rocky. She didn’t know if he remembered running into her for all of thirty seconds that day in Portland. She’d had her car, and Cooper and they were in the parking lot of a convenience store, when this guy pulled in and Cooper went off like a grenade in her car. But before Rocky could hold on to this shred of temporary comfort, Peter drew in closer and pointed a finger at her chest, dead center.
“Hey, that was you, wasn’t it? About a month ago, over in Portland.”
Rocky felt one of her fingernails pierce her palm. She was with a predator. Stand and face him, make yourself bigger.
“Yes, and I recall the dog didn’t seem to take to you. He went ballistic, didn’t he?”
Peter kept his arms at his sides, not folded in