“You need to sit.” Mandy pulled out a chair from the small table in the middle of the kitchen area. Jack took the seat with a sigh. “All right, I’m sitting. Now will you keep it down?” “Fine.” She was careful to keep her voice low. “Now tell me what happened to you.” “Got shot,” he grunted, leaning against the hard-backed chair as if it were a plush recliner. Beneath the worn tabletop, Mandy gripped fistfuls of her khaki shorts, wringing the material as she braced herself for more bad news. “Was it the person we heard in the woods with a gun last night?” He nodded. “That very same bastard.” “How…” Now that he’d confirmed her darkest theory, there were too many questions whirling in her mind to ask at once. “How the hell did that happen, and why did you leave me here with…” She glanced toward the pile of blankets. They were empty, save for a goliath-sized indent and several large blood stains. “Where’d your dog go?” “Wolf, not dog. And he’s around.”
