Chapter Ten
ANNIE TESTED HER ARMS AND legs, only moving them enough to make sure she hadn’t been hit. She listened hard but heard nothing except the ragged sound of her breath and the pound of surf. A seabird called out. Slowly, carefully, she lifted her head.
The bullet had come from the west. She saw nothing unusual in the thicket of red spruce and stunted hardwoods that lay between where she was lying and the road. She pushed herself higher, the weight of her backpack shifting, and gazed back toward the cottage, then the ocean, then up at Harp House looming at the top of the cliff. Everything looked as cold and isolated as always.
She came to her knees slowly. With only a backpack for protection, she was too exposed. She had no experience with firearms. How did she know that had really been a bullet?
Because she knew.
Was it a hunter’s errant shot? Peregrine Island had no game animals, but every home had guns. According to Barbara, more than a few islanders had shot either themselves or each other. Generally, they’d been accidents, she’d said, but not always.
Annie heard something behind her—a noise that didn’t belong—the sound of a horse’s hooves. A fresh rush of adrenaline sent her to the ground again.
Theo was coming after her to finish the job.
As soon as the thought took shape, she struggled to her feet. She’d be damned if she’d let him shoot her while she was cowering in the dirt. If he was going to kill her, he’d have to look her in the eye when he pulled the trigger. As she spun around and saw the powerful animal galloping toward her from the beach, a terrible sense of betrayal ripped through her, along with a desperate need to believe this wasn’t happening.
Theo pulled up and threw himself off Dancer. There was no gun in his hand. No weapon of any kind. Maybe he’d dropped it. Or . . .
His cheeks were ruddy from the cold, but his jacket was unzipped, and it opened as he dashed toward her. “What happened? I saw you fall. Are you all right?”
Her teeth were chattering, and she was shaking all over. “Did you just try to shoot me?”
“No! What the hell? Are you saying somebody tried to shoot you?”
“Yes, somebody tried to shoot me!” she cried.
“Are you sure?”
She gritted her teeth. “I’ve never been shot at, but yes, I’m sure. How could you not have heard?”
“I was too close to the water to hear anything. Tell me exactly what happened.”
The heels of her hands stung through her gloves. She clenched her fingers. “I was on my way to the house, and a bullet flew past my head.”
“Where did it come from?”
She tried to remember. “I think it was over there.” She pointed a shaking hand toward the road, the opposite direction from the way he had just come.
He studied her, as if he was trying to see how badly she’d been hurt, then took a quick survey of the landscape. “Stay where I can see you. We’ll go up to the house together.” Moments later, he was riding toward the trees.
She felt too vulnerable to stay where she was, but she’d be even more exposed if she walked back across the open expanse of the marsh to the cottage. She waited for her legs to steady, then ran toward the trees at the base of the drive leading to Harp House.
It didn’t take Theo long to pull up next to her. She expected him to chew her out for not staying put, but he didn’t. Instead he dismounted and, taking Dancer by the lead, walked with her.
“Did you see anything?” she asked.
“Nothing. Whoever did this was long gone by the time I got there.”
When they got to the top of the drive he told her he had to cool Dancer down. “I’ll meet you in the house,” he said. “And then we’re going to have a conversation.”
She wasn’t ready to go inside, where she’d have to talk to Jaycie. Instead she slipped into the stable while Theo walked Dancer around the yard. The stable still smelled of animals and dust, although with only one horse housed here now, the smells were fainter than they’d once been. Spidery light seeped through the window above the rickety wooden bench where she and Theo had talked that afternoon, not long before she’d gone down to the cave to meet him.
She slipped off her backpack and called the mainland police number she’d stored in her phone after the break-in. The officer she reached dutifully listened to the information she gave him, but didn’t seem interested. “It was kids. It’s the Wild West out there on Peregrine, but I guess you already know that.”
“The kids are in school,” she replied, trying not to sound as impatient as she felt.
“Not today. The teachers from all the islands are on Monhegan for their winter conference. The kids have the day off.”
It was mildly comforting to think the shot might have come from a kid messing around with guns instead of an adult with a more sinister purpose. The officer promised he’d make inquiries the next time he came to the island. “If anything else happens,” he said, “you be sure to notify us.”
“Like if a bullet actually hits me?”
He chuckled. “I don’t think you need to worry about that, ma’am. The islanders are a rough bunch, but they don’t generally kill each other.”
“Dumbass,” she murmured, disconnecting as Theo led Dancer into the stable.
“What did I do this time?” Theo said.
“Not you. I called the mainland police.”
“I can imagine how well that conversation went.” He took Dancer into the only stall with bedding. Even though the stables weren’t heated, he tossed his jacket on a hook and began to unsaddle his horse. “You’re positive someone tried to shoot you?”
She rose from the bench. “You don’t believe me?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
Because I never believe what you tell me. She moved closer to Dancer’s stall. “I don’t suppose you found footprints? Or a bullet casing?”
He removed the saddle blanket. “Oh, yeah. With all the muck lying on the ground, that was the first thing I saw. A bullet casing.”
“You don’t have to be so sarcastic.” Since she was almost always sarcastic with him, she expected him to turn on her, but he only growled that she watched too many cop shows.
As he finished taking off Dancer’s tack, she gazed into the next stall, the one where she and Regan had found the pups. Now it held only a push broom, a stack of buckets, and bad memories. She looked away.
Eventually she stopped fidgeting and simply watched Theo work—those long even brushstrokes, the gentle touch of his fingers as he made sure he didn’t miss any burrs or mud clots, the way he’d stop what he was doing to scratch Dancer behind his ears and talk softly to him. His obvious care made her say something she instantly regretted. “I didn’t really think it was you.”
“Yeah, you probably did.” He set aside the brush and knelt down to check Dancer’s hooves. After he was assured that the horse hadn’t picked up any stones, he came out of the stall and turned those laser-focused eyes on her. “No more bullshit,” he said. “You need to tell me right now what’s going on.”
She pulled off her cap and ran it through her hands. “How am I supposed to know?”
“You know more than you’re letting on. You don’t trust me? Fine. But you’re going to have to get over that because right now I’m the only person you can trust.”
“That doesn’t exactly make sense.”
“Deal with it.”
It was time for a quick reminder. “When I came back to the island . . . The first time I saw you, you were carrying a gun.”
“An antique dueling pistol.”
“From your father’s gun collection.”
“That’s right. There’s a whole cabinet full of guns in the house. Shotguns, rifles, handguns.” He paused, his eyes narrowing. “And I know how to fire every one of them.”
She shoved her hat in her pocket. “That makes me feel ever so much better.”
But, ironically, it did. If he truly wanted to kill her for some twisted reason only he knew, he would have done it by now. As for her legacy . . . He was a Harp, and she hadn’t seen any signs that he needed money.
Then why is he living on the island? Dilly asked. Unless he has no place else to go.
Just like you, Crumpet pointed out.
Annie suppressed the puppets’ voices. She might not like it—she didn’t like it—but right now Theo was the only one she could talk to.
Just the way it was when you were fifteen, Dilly said.
He curled his fingers over the stall door. “This has gotten out of hand. Tell me whatever it is you’re hiding.”
“It could have been a kid. The island teacher is at a conference, so there was no school today.”
“A kid? You think a kid tossed the cottage, too?”
“Maybe.” No, she didn’t think that at all.
“If a kid had done it, there would have been a lot more destruction.”
“We don’t know that.” She slipped past him. “I’ve got to go. Jaycie was expecting me an hour ago.”
Heroes Are My Weakness: A Novel
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