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When Jax stepped back outside, the air felt stale. In an effort to lift the mood, he asked his uncle, “Do you want any help doing anything for the fair tomorrow?”
“Nope. The planning committee has it covered.”
“I’m here to help. Remember that, okay?”
“I’m doing fine. But it’s good to have you home.” A gust of wind sent his uncle’s paper flying off the table onto the grass. “Wow. That wind’s really picking up.”
Matt leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head, elbows sticking out to the sides. “So, I’m thinking of asking the veterinarian Seyla works with, Jessa, if she wants to go to the fair together. What do you guys think of her?”
Jax narrowed his eyes at his friend. Matt didn’t usually ask for his opinion about a girl. “What’s going on here?” he asked with a sly grin, head tipped to one side.
“Nothing,” Matt rushed to say. “I want to make sure she’s not, you know, like, a serial killer or anything.” He laughed, yet nervousness lay behind it.
Matt, the overconfident cosmopolitan type, nervous? He must really like her.
Sam chuckled. “She’s a great girl and a great mom. I’ve seen you two talking at church. You seem to get along great with each other. I say go for it.” He readjusted the Hawaiian shirt he wore, which apparently served as standard apparel for retired men.
Jax hadn’t seen him wear anything like that until he retired. They seemed to appear in his closet overnight. Or was it that he himself wasn’t around enough to pay attention?
He shook his head when Sam winked at Matt. Despite his gruffness, Uncle Sam remained a romantic at heart.
“Try not to trip her with your crutches,” Jax teased.
Matt flicked his head to shift the hair out of his eyes after another gust of wind and lowered his lids at Jax. “Ha-ha. She can’t be bothered too much by these things,” he said, lifting a crutch. “Otherwise, she wouldn’t have given me her number last Sunday.”
Buzz. Matt flipped his phone over on the table and checked it. Frowned. Struggled to get to his feet.
“What’s wrong?” Jax jumped up.
Matt maneuvered toward the gate to the front yard. “Seyla. I got a text from her. Vanessa’s late to help at the sanctuary shelters.”
Jax wasn’t worried. He’d driven by earlier. There were plenty of cars in the sanctuary’s parking lot. Of course, there’d been plenty of people there the last time Seyla got into trouble. “She knows not to go into the animal enclosures alone.”
Matt maneuvered around to face Jax, eyebrows drawn down over hardened features, hands fisted on the hand grips of the crutches. “She’s not at the sanctuary. She’s in the woods. Alone.” He spun around faster than Jax thought was possible with crutches. “The cell reception is lousy over there. This text could have been sent hours ago.”
Sam put Rock in the house and grabbed his keys. “Come on. We’ll take my truck. You can throw your crutches in the bed.”
Jax’s blood curdled in his veins. Seyla was in the woods alone? Yet another powerful gale of wind slapped him, as strong as his fear for her. It knocked the air out of his chest, stunning his lungs. Praying for her safety, Jax ran to the truck.
/////
Seyla dropped from the window to crouch on the floor again, her heart slamming against her ribcage with each beat. Only a wall separated her and her tormentor. Her shoulders cinched up around her neck as if the person might reach right through the wall to grab it. Every muscle remained locked in place while the minutes ticked by, her ears straining to hear anything that gave away the position of the hooded figure.
A tapping sound rang out above her.
A whimper shot through the air. Seconds later, she realized it was her own.
More tapping. Her entire body jerked, her lungs freezing mid-breath.
The tapping sounded again. Seyla pressed herself into the wooden planks that constituted the walls. A muffled voice called out. She slowed her breathing, only allowing in a miniscule amount of air each time. Could they hear her? The feeling of suffocation built until it became overwhelming, finally, and she succumbed to the need for oxygen, dragging in several lungfuls.
“Seyla!”
There it was again. It definitely sounded like her name that time. She cleared her dry, scratchy throat, and lifted her phone with shaky fingers. A text from Matt said to stay put; he was on his way. That wasn’t Matt, though, not at that height. The voice sounded different, too. Yet she sensed it was a voice she should recognize. Did she know her attacker? Seyla texted Matt again to warn him about the person outside.
“Seyla! Seyla, it’s Jax!”
What?! Eyes narrowed, she tilted an ear up toward the window. Did they say “Jax”?
