Page 35 of Rabid

The scent of cedar and lavender hit her as she opened the closet door. She inhaled deeply, sadness curling tightly in her chest.

This was her grandmother’s space.

Tears gathered in her eyes, but she forced them back. Dale was waiting, and curling up on the floor for another cry could wait.

The closet was long, narrow, and immaculately organized. Shoes lined the floor beneath the clothes rack. Willow walked deeper inside, scanning for the hiking boots Dale had mentioned.

Her gaze landed on the back corner, and she froze.

A gun was propped against the wall, its dark metal gleaming faintly.

Her heart slammed in her chest as fear gripped her. She couldn’t be near a gun.

The thought of breaking the law, of losing everything and returning to prison, made her stomach churn. Her breath came in shallow gasps.

For ten seconds, she couldn’t move. Then she turned and fled, forgetting the boots entirely.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Fear’s Edge

“Are you okay?” Dale asked when he saw her running toward the trailer.

She had to look like a crazy person. Her heart pounded, and her hands trembled uncontrollably.

“There’s a big gun in my grandmother’s closet,” she said frantically. “It can’t be in the house.” She tried to catch her breath. “I can’t go back to prison. Please take it out of there, and you can have it.”

“Whoa,” he said gently, his face showing concern. “I forgot to tell you about the shotgun. That one is mine. I have Joan’s inside the trailer.”

He placed his hand on her shoulder.

“I was a deputy, remember?” He didn’t wait for her to answer. “You can’t live out here without protection. There are rattlesnakes and mountain lions. Max and Daisy are snake-trained, and we don’t see many rattlers, but they’re here. I find mountain lion tracks all the time. This is your property, all eighty acres of it. No one will report you, and the deputies never come out this far unless they’re called and even then, it’s hit and miss if they’ll show.”

Her pulse still raced, her mind flashing to nights locked in a cell, the constant presence of fear and control. The idea of that gun, its potential to send her back to hell, paralyzed her. She barely understood what Dale said because she could only focus on the gun.

“Hey,” he said when she didn’t reply. “It’s okay. I understand how you feel, and it’s the reason I exchanged shotguns. Mine is registered under my name. Ballistics tests will come back to my gun. If you ever need to shoot it, it will be for a good reason. I’ll take full responsibility, and I’ll clear out the guns before a deputy arrives.”

“Guns?” she asked as her mind slowly escaped panic mode.

“I put one of my handguns in the cellar, which I’ll show you today. There’s also one in a cabinet inside.”

“I don’t want them,” Willow said stubbornly and took a step away from him.

“Okay, I get that.” He looked contrite. “Think about it during our hike. If you still feel the same, I’ll remove them after we return.”

She exhaled shakily, her mind easing out of its spiraling fear. The idea of returning to prison still terrified her. She would rather die. A bit of what Dale said started to sink in.

“Okay,” she said reluctantly.

“Do you need me to find the boots?”

She was acting like an idiot, and he was so calm.

“No, I’ll grab them as long as they’re not near the shotgun.”

“They shouldn’t be.”

She walked back inside, ignored the shotgun, and found the boots. She had only the socks she’d worn the day before and put them back on. She’d gone outside in her rubber prison shower shoes, and she wanted to throw them away.

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