Anybody's Child by Michelle Kidd (notion reading list txt) 📖

a metal tool chest. It flickered, faded, and died. Left in total darkness, she froze.

No! She was too afraid to breathe. She stood motionless for what seemed an eternity. When her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she noticed shadows moving outside the door. The blood pulsed in the side of her neck.

She thought she caught the sound of metal clanking. Chains? No! She’d be locked in! Panic and a sense of suffocation threatened to consume her. But still, she remained rooted to the spot. Why hadn’t she gone back for her gun!

After a beat, she heard the noise again. This time the sound was more distinct, like soft clanging. She waited. Nothing happened. The movement outside the door drifted away, and all went quiet. Raven paused, unsure what to do.

Enough light seeped through the cracks of the shed to make out what appeared to be a shovel to her left. She reached for it and crept to the entrance; her ears strained for the slightest noise.

It’s now or never. All at once Raven opened the door and charged. But her surprise attack fell short when she nearly collided with a placid set of brown eyes. The beast’s surprised ears shot out in concern, and the thousand-pound animal took a few steps backward. It didn’t take the cow long to recover. Curious and hungry, she stepped closer and extended her thick, pink tongue to investigate if Raven had food.

Raven’s knees went to jelly with relief. For goodness sake! “How’d you get out?” She stifled a laugh and rubbed the velvet snout. “You scared me to death.”

The Jersey blinked. Satisfied the crazy woman who’d disrupted her grazing wasn’t going to hurt her, she put her head down and returned to pulling up what grass she managed to find.

Now that the excitement was over, Raven still needed the hand truck. She hurried back to the shed, retrieved the discarded item, and snagged a bundle of bungee cords on her way out. The handcart bumped behind her as she flew across the slippery yard. Her boots were useless. They had no traction in the frozen lawn. She slipped twice before reaching the steps.

The wheels banged as she struggled to pull the cart up and over each riser. It was enough to wake the dead. The irony struck a nerve. Not funny—but it sure would make life easier.

She reached the porch, sailed into the house, and melted against the door as she caught her breath. She tossed the keys to the side, and once more tried to gather her wits.

Her eyes fell to the white shower curtain wrapped around Mack. It practically gleamed in the moonlight streaming through the front windows. Raven couldn’t catch a break. She pressed her lips together and tried to figure out what to do. The clock in the kitchen continued its relentless tick, tick, tick. 

Time was running out.

A surge of adrenaline prompted her into action. She positioned the cart on the floor beside Mack’s body. With a deep breath and power born of desperation, she rolled him onto it. She had no idea if her plan would work. His height extended far beyond what she’d anticipated. Next, she bound several of the bungee cords around to secure him to the dolly and willed herself the ability to lift the heavy handcart.

Bending her knees, she struggled, her legs going rubbery. It took every ounce of strength she had, but once she had him upright, it would be okay. Physics, right? But physics had never been her strong suit. She still needed to make a search of the house. There hadn’t been much blood, which meant Mackenzie had been shot elsewhere and brought here. It was the only explanation that made sense. That was one thing in her favor.

A coyote howled in the distance sending a shudder through her. It sounded like the wail of a police siren to her ears. The mental image of squad cars sliding into her front yard with lights flashing urged her into action.

Raven flinched as light flooded her bedroom. Despite the distance of her neighbors, turning on the overhead caused prickly paranoia to inch up the back of her neck. Light meant exposure, and she didn’t need that as she hunted through the house for signs of anything she might have overlooked.

Raven found her missing Glock under the dresser. Must have kicked it there during the struggle. She fished it out and tucked it into the waistband of her black jeans.

For the next fifteen minutes, she scoured each room, searching every corner. Chances were Dominic came through the front door and straight to the bedroom. Given Dominic’s size, he wouldn’t need to drag Mackenzie as she had. She guessed he had waited in the house for her to come home, carried Mack in later while she was unconscious, and dumped him onto the bed. But where had Mack been before then? She didn’t have time to think. She needed to move. As far as she was concerned, the plastic sheet had kept everything contained—she hoped. All she had to do was dispose of him.

She winced at the harsh words. When had she grown so callous? Now she was thinking in terms of putting him someplace to wash away the remaining evidence instead of mourning the loss of a friend. What was nearby—?

The lake! Of course!

Uncle Ray used to take her fishing there when he wasn’t wasted and sometimes when he was.

Destination locked into her mind, she set about the task of getting Mack to the car. She hoped those cords secured him tightly. Raven once again struggled to take hold of the handle and brace herself for the weight. It seemed easier this time, or she had prepared herself for his two hundred pounds of resistance. The cart tilted halfway up her thigh, which was difficult but not impossible to move with the wheels.

Due to his height, there was a significant overhang on her end of the handcart, which made it awkward to pull. Her arms were almost too short, and his weight made the task like trying to put pants on an elephant. At least that’s what Granny would say of a chore too difficult.

“Sheesh, Mackenzie, you could have laid off the burgers once in a while.”

She dragged him forward and through the door, but the bump of the threshold caused him to slide sideways. She had to shove hard to keep him centered. “Don’t you dare fall on me, Mackenzie!” Once he was out and onto the porch, it was a smoother ride.

She groaned when she neared the edge of the stairs. She had half a mind to turn him loose and let gravity take its course, but if Mack fell it would be too much trouble to bundle him up again. Quickly, she tightened the cords and gripped the handle, letting the wheels bump down the steps. The cart crashed into her shins. That’s gonna leave a mark. No time to stop. She had maybe an hour before the sun rose.

Once she reached the bottom step, she stopped and rested her hands. They ached from clenching them so firmly and trembled from sheer relief of loosening their grip. She eyed the black 1970 Dodge. The trunk was plenty big for hauling cargo, although the designers probably never intended dead bodies to be on the list of transportable goods. Thankfully, Uncle Ray hadn’t left her an AMC Gremlin.

Break over. The muscles in Raven’s hands protested when she once more wrapped them around the cold metal. The hand truck moved easier over the sidewalk and into the car. She pulled up short. Getting him into the trunk was her next challenge.

 A simple matter of standing the cart up, unbinding the ties, and letting gravity pull him forward. All she needed to do was push the bottom half in. Easy, right?

“Okay, big boy, work with me here.” With teeth clenched, she strained to lift him. He was so top heavy his weight toppled the cart over when his upper torso fell forward and tumbled into the deep cavity that was the trunk. She quickly unbound the last of the cords, stuffed his legs in, and fit the dolly in before slamming the lid. She might need it later.

Raven leaned against the car, her sides heaving with exertion. Clouds of steam poured from her mouth and nostrils as she tried to catch her breath. There wasn’t time to revel in the victory, but she did feel the need to acknowledge Mack. She patted the lid of the trunk. “We did good, buddy.” In a sad sense, this would be their farewell mission together. She consoled herself with the idea she’d gone too far to turn back now. Mack would understand. He’d do the same thing, wouldn’t he?

She ran to the house, snatched the keys from the shelf, and turned to leave when she drew up dead in her tracks. Her ears picked up on the distant popping of gravel. It couldn’t be! Panic flooded her limbs. Someone was coming!

She darted to the window and peered around the curtain as twin beams of light crawled up her driveway. Her heart stalled.

A Nelson County Sheriff’s patrol car eased up the graveled path and rolled to a stop at the front door. She held her breath as the deputy exited the vehicle and stood gazing across the fields. He raised a beefy hand to speak into the radio clipped to his shoulder, but she couldn’t make out what he’d said. 

To Raven’s horror, he headed toward her car. He walked up and down the length of it several times and appeared to study it, then placed his palm on the hood and even tapped the wheel with his boot for good measure.

Raven couldn’t breathe, couldn’t swallow, couldn’t do anything but watch helplessly as he turned and made his way to her front door. She considered making a run for it out the back.

Instead, she waited, listening to each step protest beneath his weight. She was out of time . . .

Chapter 18 – Raven

Raven did her best to make herself invisible. Not that the deputy could see her cowering behind the door. She was ashamed of her spinelessness, even more so when she caught the image of herself crouched in the full-length mirror.

Trudy Connors hadn’t raised a coward. Raven was many things but timid was not one of them. She possessed a willfulness that wouldn’t allow her to retreat from any challenge, even when she knew she was in the wrong. She shook off the thought. Besides, she hadn’t killed Mackenzie. It wasn’t her fault she’d found Mack dead in her bed. She doubted she’d ever convince anyone of that, but she darned sure refused to go down hiding in the dark.

 When backed into a corner, always come out fighting. She flipped on the porch light and opened the door, surprising the rumpled deputy mid-knock.

 “Excuse me, ma’am.” The deputy pushed his cowboy-style hat farther up his brow. “I hate to bother you at this hour of the morning, but we’ve had a report of gunshots in this area.” His expression and stance belied her fear he had come ready to snap on the cuffs. His speech was slow and lazy with a comforting lilt. Any