Ginger’s own self-righteous bubble burst. Planting her hands on her hips, she engaged in the sort of standoff with Lydia that involved a whole lot of staring and a monumental amount of self-assessment.
Lydia did not back down.
Endless moments passed until Ginger took a stand. It was time. “Yes,” she said in a strong voice. “Ryan wants to chase after bad guys and make this town a safer place. And I have to support him, because I love him.”
“Indeed,” Lydia said with a nod. And a surprising hint of approval. She whisked away the rest of her tears and added, “Well, then. I suppose we ought to wait this ordeal out the way families should—together.”
Ginger brushed a few fresh drops from her own cheeks. “I suppose you’re right.” She returned to the cashier’s desk and wrapped up Lydia’s purchases. Then they locked the door behind them and crossed the street to the diner.
Jonathan stood as they joined everyone at a large table by the window. He said, “I was about to come get you two.” His gaze shifted from Ginger to Lydia. “Is everything all right?”
“It’s fine,” his wife assured him as she set her shopper’s bag on the floor and took the seat next to him.
Ginger sat across from the reverend and next to Jack. “Any word?” she asked.
The dismal look on Jack’s face alarmed her. He said, “Madeline has some news.”
Ginger’s gaze moved to the woman sitting beside Lydia. The police dispatcher said, “Connor Jenkins relieved me a little while ago, and when I was collecting my things and getting ready to head out, he got a call from Mark Davis who said he’d heard gunshots on his property.”
The air around Ginger seemed to compress. Her stomach twisted again.
Jack dropped a comforting arm around her shoulders and Jonathan placed his hand over hers as it rested on the table. Lydia covered Jonathan’s hand, which drew a few curious stares from the group—and great, albeit silent, interest from her husband.
Madeline continued. “There’s an abandoned hunter’s cabin on Mark’s property, which he’s never done a thing with, since he doesn’t hunt. It was built by the previous owner. The sheriff suspects that’s where the robbers are holed up. The posse’s heading that way now.”
“Reverend,” Liza said, “I never thought I’d say this to you, but perhaps a prayer is in order.”
Ginger’s heart nearly stopped.
Chapter Eight
Ryan met up with Sheriff Johnson, Dan and Miller on the outskirts of town. They’d all learned of the gunshots heard on Mark’s property and the sheriff said, “I’ll take Dan and Miller in the SUV. Ryan, I want you to head back into town and keep up your patrol, in case we discover it’s just a couple of kids causing trouble on Mark’s property, shootin’ up aluminum cans.”
Dan and Miller transferred their additional weaponry to the SUV. Ryan glanced back at his cruiser, then said to the sheriff, “I’d like to go with you.”
“Not this time. It could be dangerous.”
“That’s part of my job,” he argued. “I wasn’t expecting it to be smooth sailing.”
With a nod, Sheriff Johnson said, “I appreciate your dedication and you’re enthusiasm. But you don’t have any experience with this sort of thing yet.”
Ryan eyed the two deputies. Then he said, “With all due respect, sir, have Dan and Miller seen this kind of trouble before?”
The older man frowned. But he couldn’t dispute the obvious. “We’ve had some scuffles in town, but no. We don’t get armed robbers in Wilder as a rule. But, Ryan,” he was quick to add, “Dan and Miller have dealt with situations that had the potential to escalate into something dangerous for all parties involved.”
“I know I’m green, but I’m well trained and I won’t go off half-cocked. I’ll do exactly as you tell me to, sir. If you’ll give me a chance to prove myself.”
The sheriff hedged. Ryan’s anxiety mounted. He wasn’t looking to get himself shot, but this was his chosen profession. And, as he’d said, hunting down armed criminals was part of the job.
Finally, the sheriff said, “We’re wasting time. Leave the cruiser here and come with us.” The four men climbed into the SUV and the sheriff told them, “We’ll stakeout the ridge above Mark’s land. The whole area is wooded, so we’ll move in from above, on foot, and see what’s what in the cabin.”
“There are trails that lead down to the valley where the cabin sits,” Dan announced. “As long as we’re not spotted, we can get right up close and personal without a vehicle.”
Ryan certainly didn’t relish the idea of confronting the thieves, but he wanted them caught and was determined to do what he could to ensure it happened.
They parked a ways back from the ridge, where the forest turned dense and the SUV couldn’t navigate the foliage and fallen trees. Armed and wearing their Kevlar vests, they made their way to the bluff overlooking the hunter’s cabin, tucked into the woods.
The sheriff surveyed the area with his binoculars, then scowled. “Shot the hell out of the shed.” He took another look around and said, “Dan, run this plate.” He gave a number his deputy scribbled on a small pad of paper. While Dan returned to the SUV and the laptop inside it that would provide all the information they needed, the sheriff said, “Black sedan. Buick. Mid-nineties, I suspect. Parked right out in the open. These guys aren’t too bright.”