Hostage Heart by Joleen James

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Hostage Heart
     
    A Short Story
     
     
     
    July, Washington Coast
     
     
     
    She'd arrived in time for the sunset.
    Kristi Palmer parked her car, exiting the Infiniti sedan. Before her, the cottage-style cabin beckoned, like an old friend, one she hadn’t had the chance to visit in over a year. The cabin seemed to sag a little in the dying rays of July’s sun, a victim of neglect. Driving rain, air heavy with salt and punishing coastal winds had all taken a toll. The cabin’s upkeep depended solely on her now. The knowledge made her heart heavy.
    Since her mother’s death a year ago, she’d been unable to come here, to face the memories of a past she didn’t share with anyone now. She was utterly and completely alone. Maybe that was why she’d come here. She’d needed something real, a reminder of a life she used to have, a life filled with family, laughter, love.
    Kristi removed the groceries from the trunk and navigated the steps leading to the deck, frowning when she noticed what appeared to be dried blood on the sun bleached steps. Over the years she’d seen countless birds, deer, rabbits, coyotes and even a bear on the property. The cabin was isolated; a passcode was needed to get through the gate at the entrance to the driveway, and once inside there were no neighbors. The cabin and surrounding beach grass and Sitka spruce trees had obviously become a playground for the wildlife living here.
    Kristi walked the length of the deck, her eyes on the ocean. The sun hovered on the edge of the horizon, a magenta ball that turned the frothy waves shell pink. Fresh salt air filled her lungs and she took a deep hit, savoring the scent. Yes, coming here was just what she needed. She’d have time to reflect, to make peace with what remained of her former life.
    At the sliding glass door, she inserted her key and stepped inside. Musty, familiar air greeted her. Kristi set the groceries on the kitchen table, then turned to roll up the bamboo shade. Again, she admired the view, the waves, the setting sun glittering like rubies on the water.
    She returned her focus to the room, touching on the worn furnishings. One of the sofa pillows had toppled to the floor. She carefully replaced the pillow, her eyes lingering on the family photos hanging on the wall behind the sofa. Again, sadness tightened her chest. She knew those photos as well as she knew her own name. She’d definitely be tripping down memory lane while she was here.
    Deciding to wait on unpacking the car until after the sunset, she started back outside, intending to take a seat on the built-in bench.
    "Don’t move," a rough male voice said from behind her.
    Kristi froze. Her heart thundered in her chest.
    "Turn around slowly, hands in the air," the voice commanded.
    Was this it, the end of her life? Why was someone in her cabin? Could he be a squatter? The door had been locked. The shades down. She remembered the pillow on the floor, the blood on the steps. His blood? What did it mean? Was he injured?
    "I said, turn around," he ordered. "I’ve had a bad day, lady; and I really don’t want to shoot you, too."
    Too? Her stomach did a rollercoaster drop to her feet. Hands in the air, she turned, fear racing through her veins. He stood in the doorway that separated the hallway from the kitchen and living area, his body hidden in the shadows. Tall, she guessed over six foot, he had dark hair, but beyond that she couldn’t get a clear image of his looks. He held his arm out, the gun squarely aimed at her.
    "Look," she said. "I’ll leave. I won’t say anything to anyone."
    He stepped toward her. Sunlight glinted off the gun in an ominous red flash. "Sit down."
    "No, I—" She’d told no one she was coming here. Her cell phone was still in the car. Panic filled her. She looked to the open door. Could she make a run for it?
    "Don’t even think about running," he said, reading her movement. "I said, sit