Page 30 of Blood Moon

“John, everything you just said, I’ve told myself. Dozens of times I tried to talk myself into forgetting about it. Max tried to talk me into forgetting about it, and I respect his opinion more than anyone’s. I would have dismissed it as a wild and crazy coincidence except for—”

Suddenly two things happened at once. Mutt shot up as though the floor plank had launched him. And John, in one conditioned motion, reached for his holster, slid the pistol out, and hurdled the coffee table.

Beth jumped up from her chair. John planted his left hand in the center of her chest and pushed her back into it. “Stay down.” He extended his gun hand toward the front door.

She gasped, “My God, what’s happened?”

“Mutt growled.”

Chapter 8

Beth’s heart was in her throat.

Mutt had practically gone airborne and was now standing rigid, staring at the front door as though he could see through it, his growl low but menacing.

Apparently John had excellent night vision. Without a misstep, he went to the window nearest to him and peered out. He stood unmoving. Mutt remained in his sentinel stance.

Not knowing the source of the threat, Beth was afraid even to breathe.

John came over to her chair and reached for her hand. “Hurry. Not a word,” he whispered as he pulled her up. “Mutt.”

Instantly obeying, the dog trailed them into the kitchen. John looked out the window above the sink, then went to the back door, and, as soundlessly as possible, unlocked it.

He waited, straining to listen for any sound coming fromthe other side of the door. Hearing nothing, he gradually opened it several inches. He looked through the narrow crack, turning his head from side to side in order to have a view from different angles.

From Beth’s vantage point behind him, all she could see through the opening was darkness. No light, no motion, nothing to indicate a lurking danger. John turned to her, leaned in close, and whispered, “Try not to make a sound.”

Before she could question him or protest, he opened the door wider and guided her outside, waited for Mutt to clear the door, then closed it. The air was chilly but heavy with moisture. There was no wind. Thick cloud cover blocked out any light the waxing moon would have provided.

Both man and dog seemed not to need light as they made their way down a path invisible to her, but obviously well known to them. They walked quickly but quietly until they reached an outbuilding that appeared to Beth to be listing. The door was held shut by an old-fashioned padlock, but it hung from the latch unfastened.

John opened the door. Mutt went inside. Since the structure appeared to be on the verge of collapse, Beth hesitated. John put his hand on the small of her back and urged her forward. The enclosure smelled of damp earth and, faintly, of onions. After John pulled the door closed, the darkness inside was impenetrable. He said, “Mutt, be still.”

He’d spoken in a whisper, but it had sounded like a command given to a well-trained dog. Beth couldn’t see Mutt, but she sensed that he’d laid down and then remained motionless. He wasn’t even panting.

In the darkness, John somehow found her, specificallyher ear. He placed his lips against it. “If a shot is fired, drop to the ground. Don’t think about it, just do it.”

The instruction stunned her. But why should it when he still gripped a pistol in his right hand? He gave her no time to ask who might be shooting at them before slipping away from her. She curbed a cowardly impulse to reach out for him and then to cling.

She approximated the shed to be only a few yards square, like a tool or gardening shed. It had a dirt floor that absorbed any sounds John would have made as he moved from one side of it to another, pausing periodically. She could tell where he was in juxtaposition to her only by the subtle shifts in the air as he patrolled.

Then he stopped and became perfectly still. She sensed that there wasn’t much distance between them, but she couldn’t even hear his breathing, only her own heartbeat pulsing against her eardrums.

It seemed they remained like that for an eternity. Then, a car engine grumbled to life. The distinctive sound came from quite a distance, and it was further muffled by the dense atmosphere, but she sensed an immediate lessening of John’s tension. Mutt must have, too. He stood and brushed against her hand. She patted him on the head as he went past her.

John came up from behind her and placed his hand on her shoulder. “You good?”

She nodded, then, realizing that he might be unable to see that, she said, “Fine. Scared out of my wits and wondering what the hell is going on. But fine.”

Maybe she imagined the light squeeze he gave her shoulder before he took his hand away. “Let’s go.”

Compared to the mustiness inside the shed, the humid outside air seemed almost brisk. She breathed deeply of it as she turned to John, who was shoving the pistol into his waistband. “What in heaven’s name was that all about?”

“Nothing good.”

“I would appreciate an explanation.” She started walking in the direction of the house.

But behind her, he said, “This way.”

---