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There was no way to hide the bombardment of gunfire as anything other than a deliberate act. Granted it had taken place away from her uncle’s cabin. Still, the fact that she’d been chased into the woods, followed by a shooting rampage on the SUV, should be enough to convince the local sheriff’s department to take a closer look at her uncle’s death.

Her thoughts continued to whirl in her mind, yet no matter how hard she tried to piece things together, the few puzzle pieces she knew to be fact didn’t fit. Her uncle had claimed he might be responsible for her mother’s murder. But he hadn’t said how or why.

Now that he was gone, she doubted she’d ever know the truth about how her mother had died that night, just ten days after Nina’s birth. Nina put a hand over her belly, imagining the gunshot wound her mother had sustained. Not to mention the bruises on her mother’s face.

Despite everything, Nina was more determined than ever to uncover the truth.

She and Jackson walked for another fifteen minutes before he paused and drew her close. “Do you recognize that broken tree branch?”

With a frown, she looked at the large branch in question. It was broken at a distinctive angle, so his question made sense. Yet for the life of her she couldn’t remember seeing it before.

“No, sorry.” In her defense, she’d been running from a gunman. Even with all her tech savvy, it hadn’t occurred to her to look for identifying markers within the forest.

“It’s okay, just asking.” He flashed a reassuring smile, then moved forward to continue their trek to her uncle’s home.

With the nearly full moon overhead, she could just make out the path before her. Creeping through the woods wasn’t as scary with Jackson beside her.

Less than five minutes later, she caught a glimpse of an open space up ahead. She snagged Jackson’s arm to stop him.

At his questioning look, she whispered, “That’s the backyard of my uncle’s cabin.”

He nodded and turned to peer through the trees to the open space beyond. For long seconds they simply stood there, listening. Nina didn’t hear any sounds of a car engine, people walking around or anything else, for that matter.

And from what she could tell, the cabin interior was still dark, the way she’d left it. Was that a good thing or a bad one? She didn’t know.

“Stay here,” Jackson murmured. “I’ll check it out.”

She tightened her grip, preventing him from leaving. “I’m coming with you.”

For the first time since he’d gotten there to help her, a flash of annoyance crossed his features. She swallowed hard but didn’t let go. She didn’t care if he was upset, she was not spending another moment alone in this creepy forest.

“Stay behind me.” The growled warning was curt. When Jackson made his way through the trees, she moved silently behind him.

The yard looked the same, as if she and a gunman hadn’t raced through it, what, an hour or so ago? She shivered as they left the shelter of the trees, crossing the open yard. When Jackson reached the cabin, he put his back against the wall and gestured for her to do the same.

Again, she followed as he eased along the back of the cabin toward the back door that hung ajar. Jackson still held his weapon in two hands, the barrel pointing up at the sky. He peeked through the opening, then stepped across the threshold.

Nina followed, fearing the gunman would jump out at any moment. But it didn’t take long for Jackson to clear the small cabin.

The place was empty. Except of course for her Uncle Mark’s dead body.

Jackson holstered his weapon, then pulled out his phone. He dialed 911. He frowned, looked down at his phone and tried again. On the third attempt the call seemed to go through.

“This is Texas Ranger Jackson Woodlow. I’m calling to report episodes of gunfire and the body of a dead man. The address is—” He glanced at her. When she gave him the 2128 house number, he repeated it for the dispatcher. “I need at least two deputies to respond.”

Nina stepped toward the front door and looked at her sedan. From here, it appeared undamaged.

Again, the actions of the gunman didn’t make any sense. Why shoot at her, chase her through the woods, then take the time to shoot up Jackson’s SUV while leaving her car here?

When Jackson finished his call, she turned to face him. She was about to pull the photograph of her mother from her pocket, when a glow of light caught the corner of her eye.

Headlights approaching the cabin?

It was too early for the police to have gotten there so quickly. Panic gripped her around the throat. As she’d done earlier that evening, she reacted instinctively. Rushing forward, she grabbed Jackson’s arm and dragged him to the back door.

There wasn’t a moment to lose. They needed to get away. If that was the truck that had turned around, they were sitting ducks here at the cabin.

* * *