His curiosity piqued, Quinn's gaze followed Claire as she left his office and slid behind the wheel of a sleek Jaguar. "Nice wheels", he murmured.
The sight of Lindsey's sister stung. She reminded him of his failures as a young man. The failures he tried to overcome every day. His youth and naivete once led to regret, but Quinn refused to let Claire down a second time. If her suspicions proved true Clarie deserved his protection. He owed her.
A few minutes later, Quinn's truck growled as if in agreement with his decision as he followed Claire from a distance.
Quinn panned the surroundings as they headed into the foothills. Pine trees stood sentinel along the highway and the sun dipped behind the face of the mountains. The stark contrasts of jagged peaks against the broad expanse of the Montana sky always awed him.
Tearing his eyes from the raw, natural beauty of the landscape, Quinn focused on the sports car directly ahead.
"What the—?" Quinn's unfinished question hung in the air as an SUV pulled out from a side road and shadowed Claire's back bumper.
Quinn jammed his foot on the accelerator. No plates. Something was off. His internal radar thrust into overdrive.
Flashing his headlights, Quinn attempted to preoccupy the driver's attention. When the vehicle swerved into the passing lane, Quinn felt as if he was observing life through a slow-motion camera. He watched in horror as the SUV rammed Claire's car. Over and over, the automobile tumbled down the ravine—shards of metal and glass spiraling in the air.
"Please, God. Not Claire, too," Quinn's stomach dropped and he struggled to relay a message through his radio. Minutes later, Quinn scrambled down the gully's rocky slope, his iPhone's flashlight illuminating a slender path in the shadowy forest. Claire's car, wedged between a boulder and a gnarled pine tree, looked almost unrecognizable.
Flashing his light through the shattered front windows, Quinn groaned. A deep gash marked Claire's head. Though her eyes were closed Quinn pounded on the driver's side door.
"Claire, can you hear me? You're safe now."
Though the rumpled Jaguar sat upright, the driver's side door refused to budge. Quinn hustled to the other side of the vehicle and felt his cheeks curve in satisfaction as the door released beneath his grip. His shoulders barely fit in the narrow space but he needed to know Claire was alive.
Still motionless, Claire lay slumped against an airbag. Quinn licked dry lips as he leaned toward the injured woman and felt for a pulse.
"Thank you, Father."
***
Tugging the scratchy woolen blanket around her shoulders, Claire peered into the inky blackness as her eyes darted across the landscape. Not even the moon shone tonight. If he was still out there, it was impossible to know.
Leaning into the car’s open doorway, one of the officers passed Claire a cup of coffee—its surface littered with bits of undissolved chunks of packaged creamer. Claire shifted her attention and mumbled a low thanks. She gripped the Styrofoam container with trembling hands--blood trapped beneath her typically groomed nails.
“Ma’am, I’ll take your statement now,” the officer said, his voice calm and business-like. “We spoke with the witness, but I need to get your version before we can proceed.”
Maybe she was being overcautious, but Claire could not afford to reveal too much. A half-truth would have to do.
“It all happened so quickly,” Claire said, “but I remember a vehicle pulling to my left to pass. Before I could respond, I was rolling into the gully. After that—everything went dark.”
“Do you remember the vehicle that hit you?”
“What? No. I’m sorry.”
“A witness saw a white SUV pull up alongside you. He said it flashed its lights, then stayed next to you for several hundred feet before slamming into the driver’s side.”
“I..I..really don’t remember, officer.” Claire felt her pulse quicken as her mind filled with images of Stephen’s face lit by the glow of the console—his handsome features twisted by hatred. Her breathing suddenly rapid and labored, Claire sloshed the now-tepid liquid onto her lap. She blinked hard, denying the tears that threatened to betray the truth.
“Will, give her a break. She’s had a rough night.”
Another man’s voice broke into the conversation. Claire had not noticed him before, but he must have been standing nearby. Still struggling to focus, she gasped as Quinn stepped toward her. Not you again.
“Alright, Quinn. She’ll be more clearheaded tomorrow, anyway,” he said. “I hope we catch the guy who hit ‘er.”
"We'll catch him," Quinn responded.
"What happened to the boy who wouldn't raise a hand against anyone?" Claire said, surprised by the controlled anger in his voice.
"I didn't say anything about hurting the perp. I said we'd find him." With Quinn's attention directed her way, Claire noticed a look of concern cross his face as his eyes swept her frame. "The paramedics should be here any minute. I thought you headed straight to Rosewood Cottage after you left my office. This is the opposite direction.”
“I didn’t know I had to check my schedule with you,” Claire said with a lift of her chin. He still infuriated her as much as he did when she was in middle school.
Quinn chuckled, “It’s great to know you’ve still got your spunk. Must not be hurt too badly.” Quinn gestured toward the car in the shallow ravine—the trunk sprung, and its contents strewn about. “Looks like you may need a replacement.”
Groaning, Claire nodded. “Yes. I’m afraid so. Moving back home was--unexpected.” Emergency spotlights highlighted Claire's scattered belongings and an eerie display of clothes and linens clinging to sagebrush and tall blades of grass. “Everything I owned was in that car,” Claire’s voice hardened. Fear had ruled her life for too long. She would not allow Stephen to keep her from starting over. From a new life.
A surge of rage flooded her body. Ignoring the chilly air, she shrugged off the blanket and swung her legs out of the police cruiser. It was imperative Claire locate the key.
“Wait, what are do-? “, Quinn Gallaher’s muffled voice reached her just as the earth tilted.
***
Quinn watched as Will questioned Claire. Her eyes flickered nervously when the officer pressed her for details about the hit and run. Normally, a victim would make eye contact. Demand answers. Maybe cry.
Not Claire.
Hoping to get further than his brother-in-law, Quinn stepped in to question Claire before she hyperventilated.
Able to soothe almost anyone, Claire’s shoulders relaxed at Quinn’s calm voice. Then he mentioned her car. The sudden flash of fury in Claire’s eyes reminded him of the past and guilt squeezed Quinn’s chest. He stepped toward Claire to apologize. His timing was horrible, but maybe Quinn could finally put the pain of the past behind him. God, let her forgive me.
At that moment, Claire stepped out of the squad car. “Wait, what are do-?”, Quinn began, but his question remained unanswered as Claire’s legs crumpled like wet paper. Unthinking, his arms stretched toward her. Now, he peered down at Lindsey’s sister--her hair matted with blood, long lashes splayed across her face, and a spray of freckles across the bridge of her pert nose.
***
“Claire? Claire, can you hear me?” a man’s voice drifted toward her. Claire tried to open her eyes. She felt warm. Safe.
“Wait a minute,” Claire’s voice warbled as awareness washed over her. Quinn’s arms held her like one might hold a child--gently against his chest. Why was the one man she had sworn to hate holding her?
“You fainted. I happened to be here,” Quinn said, releasing her. “It’s a good thing, too. You probably have a concussion already. Another bump might cause serious harm. I’m relieved I was here to help you tonight.” Quinn said.
Claire said, “You were here?”
“Yes, ma’am. The SUV that slammed into you didn’t even slow down. You’re fortunate to be alive.”
“Because of Quinn, we have a good lead on this hit-and-run,” the officer said.
“That’s great,” Claire said, ducking her head. The last thing Claire needed was anyone digging around in her life--especially someone like Quinn Gallagher.
“Anyway, the Sheriff got to you a couple of minutes after he reported the accident. Stopped the bleeding on your forehead."
Claire’s eyes widened and her hand drifted to the gash near her hairline.
“Can you get the rest of the information tomorrow, Officer Grant?", Quin said, "I think Ms. Cassidy needs some rest.” Without waiting for a response, Quinn ushered the paramedics to Claire’s side.
“Ms. Cassidy was unconscious when I arrived.” Quinn spent a few minutes sharing details of the accident with one member of the medical team while another checked Claire’s vitals and prepared her for transport. “Can you let me know how she is doing when you end your shift?” Quinn asked.
“Sure thing, Sheriff,” the paramedic said. "Who moved her? Victims with head trauma should not be moved."
"Talk to Ms. Cassidy," Quinn said. "From what I understand she refused to take Officer Johnson's advice."
“I already told you, it’s Ms. Hughes now,” Claire said weakly, every muscle aching from the tension of the collision. By now, she was settled on the rolling frame of a movable gurney.
Note: If you missed chapter one of Montana Rescue, download it at https://dl.bookfunnel.com/eqlm0shr8d
Big Sky Rescue
Certain her hometown is the key to a recent attempt on her life, Claire Cassidy returns to Sweetwater, Montana. She turns to Quinn Gallagher, the local sheriff, for assistance—a man Claire had vowed she would never forgive. Can Claire set aside her bitterness before it is too late? And will Quinn allow shame to cloud his judgment with a killer on the loose?
Thank you for sharing ma'am. Have a blessed week please.