Spike growled. Zach blinked himself awake.
The dog was focused on the external wall to the bedroom, ears pricked and body rigid.
“Coyotes?” Zach asked, rising to peer out the window. Coyotes were no threat to the horses, but Willow was small enough that he worried about them getting too close. Like he did most nights, he’d shut her in a stall in the barn. A situation she tolerated for a few hours at a time. By morning, she’d usually let herself out into the yard.
She was a regular Houdini, that donkey.
As he stood there, Storm filled her lungs and expelled the air in an explosive snort worthy of a dragon. It cracked like a rifle shot across the yard.
A warning, and a challenge.
A frisson of ice traveled down Zach’s spine. From his bedroom window, he couldn’t see the corrals. Only part of the yard, and one corner of the barn. The door stood partly open. Had he left it like that? Sometimes he did, to let in the breeze.
Something moved in the darkness. Larger than a coyote. And Willow brayed. The hoarse sound had the ring of fear.
Zach bounded from the bedroom and down the stairs with Spike at his heels. He paused long enough to grab the hockey stick from the alcove beside the front door and the flashlight from the shelf before he plunged through the door.
The big dog bolted across the yard in full cry, but he skidded to a halt before he got to the barn. And stood, frozen, with every hair along his backbone bristled erect.
Uncertain, Zach stopped beside him. He’d never seen Spike afraid of anything. But something out there had the dog spooked.
With a rush, a pale form bolted from the barn. Zach had the hockey stick elevated for a hit before he recognized Willow. The donkey ran straight past them, blue eyes wide and nostrils flared.
Bloody hell.To be honest, his mind echoed something a whole crapload stronger. Zach faced the shadows with astick. He’d never wished for a gun as much as he did in that moment.
He stared at the barn. Complete silence. Not even an insect stirred. He glanced toward the corrals. Willow had come to a halt just outside them. Tucker paced nervously along the back panels. Storm stood with head up and body rigid. She stomped a forefoot, and her ears were flat to her skull.
They were all focused into the darkness past the barn.
Zach started swearing beneath his breath, a steady stream of vocal courage. His mother would never have approved. As he stepped forward, Spike glanced up then back to the shadows. And growled.
“Stay,” Zach told the dog.
The big dog whined. But he stayed.
Zach was ten feet from the barn before he saw the tire tracks.
Hard-packed gravel surfaced the yard, but water often collected near the barn door. Zach had tried to drain it to the patch of grass alongside the structure with limited success. But now, tire marks gouged the softer earth in front of the barn. He traced them with the flashlight. They led to the grass, and beyond into the darkness.
Their presence screeched his mental profanity rant to an abrupt halt. His confusion was absolute. He hadn’t heard an engine, and his windows had been open.
Zach stepped forward. And froze.
A clearly outlined track had furrowed the mud. A solid ten inches across, it featured elongated toes with prominent claw marks digging into the soft earth. And six feet past it, at the fringes of the barn light’s reach, another.
Zach’s heart threatened to leap straight out of his chest. He’d never seen tracks like that. They ran alongside the tire marks. Indentations and lines marred the hard packed gravel between his driveway and the barn. Claw marks. Penetrating the surface. Was it a giant dog? Or a bear?
His brain raced, struggling and failing to connect the dots. Zach stepped around them and shone the flashlight into the shadows cast by the barn.
A large form sat there. Zach flinched before the flashlight reflected off taillights. A car. Coppery gold, beneath a coating of mud. It seemed familiar. The color—no. It couldn’t be.
Zach retreated, his gut twisting. How had Jessie’s vehicle ended up parked beside his barn? And more importantly, how the hell was he going to explain it? This was bad. The police were suspicious enough already. And now, the missing vehicle had turned up on his land.
He paused beside the print in the dirt. Who the hell had left it there? Or rather—what?
Spike approached, head and tail down. He skirted the tracks to stop and stare off into the darkness. But he was no longer growling.
Whatever had left the track, had come, and gone.
