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Moving slowly, silently, she eased open the closet door. Lifted down the weapon. Retrieved the clip from its hiding place in a shoe box on the shelf and slid in ten rounds. In less than thirty seconds, she was loaded and ready.
And thankful her dad had insisted that every one of his children learn to use a rifle by the age of eight.
The sound outside was a little louder now, still indistinct. Broken. Like someone trying hard not to sob.
Someone faking a woman’s cry?
Or had she just seen far too many scary movies?
She called 911 and reported a prowler. Then slipped the phone into her pocket. Rafe might be off duty, out at Walking Stones helping Thea. How long would it take him to come? Twenty minutes? An hour?
A faint knock sounded through the heavy wood. “D-Dr. M-Maxwell? Please—can you help me? I’m s-so cold.”
Common sense warred with an overpowering need to help. She reached out. Hesitated. Then flipped on the porch light.
And found someone staring at her through the glass.
CHAPTER SIX
JOLIE SET THErifle aside and flung the door open. She resisted the urge to rush forward and hug the girl standing outside, for fear she might turn and run. “You came to see me at the clinic, didn’t you? How did you get clear up here?”
“Walked,” she mumbled.
The two-mile lane leading down to the highway was rocky, rutted, with turns and twists that were hard to negotiate during the day. And in the darkness, in this isolated area, fear of wolves, coyotes, and bears would likely have terrified her. “Come in. You must be freezing out here!”
The girl rose stiffly, her head bowed, and slipped past Jolie into the welcoming warmth of the cabin. She stopped just past the welcome mat as if she didn’t dare go farther. “Th-thanks.”
Jolie lifted the girl’s chin gently, searching her face for new bruises. None, thank goodness. But there were dark circles under her eyes. She appeared gaunt, her parched lips hinting at dehydration. “Are you okay? Do you hurt anywhere?”
“I’m fine,” she mumbled, pulling back and dropping her gaze to the floor. Her tangled auburn hair fell like a curtain at the sides of her face.
“What about the baby? Any twinges? Aches? Any bleeding?”
“No.” She seemed to fold in on herself, as if trying to make herself disappear.
“Come on over here—by the fireplace. Curl up with those blankets on the couch while I get the fire going.”
The girl hesitated, then headed tentatively toward the couch, though there were no obvious signs of pain in her gait.
After locking the door, Jolie turned up the thermostat and rebuilt the fire, and in minutes the room was bathed in warmth and flickering amber light.
She settled into the overstuffed chair to one side of the couch. “Comfortable?”
The girl nodded.
“I don’t believe I even know your name,” Jolie said gently.
Her voice was barely a whisper. “Mandy.”
“Is there someone we should call, just to let them know that you’re all right?”
Her head shook emphatically, even as a shudder jerked through her. A sob?
“You need a place to stay for a while?”
“Please,” she whispered. “I—I’m just s-so cold. I’ll clean. Or cook. Or anything you say.”
“No child should be outside at night. Of course you can stay.”
