Page 45 of In Her Shadow

“As it happens …” Bob began slowly, his gaze drifting over Frank’s shoulder, peering into the deepening twilight of his yard.“Could be nothing, and it probably is.But now that you mention it...”His voice trailed off as if he was considering whether to share more or retreat into silence.

“Go on,” Frank encouraged,

Bob’s hand moved almost involuntarily toward the back of his neck, rubbing it as though warding off a chill.“Well, I saw someone snooping around earlier this evening, down by the creek.A man, I reckon, big build,” he said, his eyes narrowing against the dark that crept ever closer to the farmhouse.“Had my flashlight on him, but he bolted quick as a deer into the woods.”He gestured vaguely towards the creek, a ribbon of silver barely visible beyond the ragged silhouettes of trees.

“Could be our guy,” Jake mused aloud.

“Mind if we take a look around your grounds, Mr.Anderson?”Jenna asked.

“Be my guests,” Bob replied gruffly.“Probably nothing.Whoever it was is probably gone by now.”His gaze followed the pair as they stepped off the porch, drawing their weapons and moving off into the dim light.

“Come on in, then,” Bob said to Frank.

Frank hesitated, then reminded himself that the sheriff and her deputy were more than capable of managing for themselves.He stepped into the small living room and eased himself into the embrace of an armchair that had clearly served its time.The fabric was worn, the springs less forgiving than he remembered.

“What made you folks think I might be in danger?”Bob asked, sitting in another old stuffed chair.

“We followed a trail of old land deeds, ledgers,” Frank replied.“All pointing back to a long-forgotten history of the Big Sky Ranch.It’s got its bloody roots, that one.”

Bob looked interested, so Frank continued.“Turns out, there may be more to these murders than just random acts of violence.They might be connected to descendants of the original settlers involved in the land dispute,” he said, pausing to let the implication sink in.

Bob’s chair squeaked as he leaned forward, his features sharpening with interest.His hands, rough from years tending to cattle and land, gripped the arms of his chair firmly.“You don’t say,” Bob murmured, and there was something new in his voice.

“Yep,” Frank replied.“The way the land was split up after Mitch Bishop lost the ranch—it stirred bad blood that’s been simmering for generations.”

“Quite a tale,” Bob agreed, nodding slowly, his gaze never leaving Frank’s.“Mitch Bishop and the Big Sky Ranch...”He sat back, his expression clouded with thought.“I’ve heard whispers, seen things that didn’t sit right over the years,” he began, his voice a low drawl.“Folks around here have long memories, and longer grudges.”

He seemed to consider his words before he spoke again.“Say, Frank, remind me how your family came to Trentville?I’ve forgotten the details.”

Frank rubbed at the stubble on his chin, momentarily disoriented by the abrupt shift away from the tense subject of the murders.

“Well, to be honest, my family history’s a bit hazy.”His brow furrowed as he tried to sift through the fragments of stories passed down over dinner tables and porch swings.“Family lore isn’t something we talked about much.Guess it didn’t seem all that important,” Frank added.He had always been more focused on the living than the deeds of those long gone.

“What I do know is that my great-great-something-or-other grandfather, Wilkes Doyle, moved the family out here from Atlanta back in the mid-1800s.”Frank leaned back, gripping the arms of the chair as he sought his memory of details.“Started Trentville’s first livestock feed store, if I remember right.”

For a moment, Bob was silent, his eyes distant.Then, drawing a deep breath, he fixed his intense gaze back on Frank.“That’s right, that’s right,” he murmured.“You know, Frank, I’ve got a little piece of county history that might interest you.Mind if I go fetch it?”The question was rhetorical; Bob was already on his feet, moving with a purpose that suggested this was more than just a casual offer.

Frank opened his mouth to respond but found himself speaking to an empty chair as Bob disappeared into the next room.He caught the faint sounds of drawers being pulled open and shut, accompanied by the occasional soft clink of metal against wood.

When Bob returned, Frank’s heart hammered against his ribcage as his eyes fell upon the objects in Bob’s hands.In one, the unmistakable outline of a brand – the tree-shaped design that had become a symbol of death in their small community.And in the other, a revolver, its barrel glistening dully in the low light, aimed unerringly at Frank’s chest.

“Bob, what the hell—?”Frank started, but the words died in his throat.

“You’re about to get a history lesson, Frank,” Bob said, his voice eerily calm, as if discussing the weather rather than holding a man at gunpoint.“And believe me, it’s long overdue.”

CHAPTER TWETY FOUR

The sky above Bob Anderson’s small farm was filled with gleaming stars as the sheriff and her deputy moved through the stand of trees.Jenna’s grip on her service weapon was firm.Although the available light was dim, Jenna didn’t want to make herself visible by using her cell phone light unless it became absolutely necessary.She and Jake were hunting for a mysterious figure that Bob had seen lurking by the creek.

“Split up?”Jake’s voice was a hushed undertone, barely rising above the rustle of the leaves.

“Cover more ground,” she confirmed quietly.“I’ll take the left side of the creek,” her voice barely a whisper against the nocturnal chorus.She kept her posture low.“You go right.Stay in radio contact, and if you see anything suspicious, don’t engage alone.Call for backup immediately.”

Jake’s faint silhouette nodded.“Be careful, Jenna.Something doesn’t feel right about this,” he replied, his voice carrying an edge that mirrored her unease.

She watched Jake disappear around a bend, his form blending into the foliage until it seemed as though he had become one with the night itself.

Turning away, Jenna waded across the shallow creek, its cool waters lapping at her boots, grounding her in the present.She emerged on the other side, her breath steady as she set off along the bank, the blackness of the woods swallowing her whole.

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