Free Known by Kendra Elliot

grabbed her forearms. Her eyes were wide, half her face covered in a light spray of red. A heavier spray covered the shoulder and front of her coat. She followed his gaze. “Oh, my God.” She yanked one arm away and smeared the mess more with her glove. He pulled her hand away from the blood.
    “Mom!”
    Gianna looked past him. “I’m okay. I’m not hurt.” Chris thought her voice was extremely calm for that of someone who’d just witnessed a violent death.
    “Whose blood is that?” Violet squeaked.
    Gianna swallowed. “It’s Frisco’s. He’s been shot.”
    “What? Is he okay?”
    She blinked at her daughter, her mouth moving but no words forming. She shook her head at Violet.
    Chris tightened his grip, pulling her attention back to him. “What happened?” he repeated. He led her up the porch steps, wanting to get out of the exposed yard. She pulled away from him and yanked off her jacket, holding it out from her as if it were poison.
    “I don’t know. We had just stepped out of the cabin when someone shot at us. Twice. I managed to get out of the way, but Frisco . . . and they broke a window of my Suburban. Someone is over there. We need to go to the police ,” she pleaded with Chris. “And there was a dead man in the cabin—he’d been shot and burned. That’s what you smelled.”
    Violet clamped a hand over her mouth and stared at her mother in shock.
    Chris’s brain shifted into analysis-and-survival mode. “Did you see the shooter? Did they have a vehicle? Was there just one person?”
    “I didn’t see anyone. Or a car,” Gianna forced out. Her pupils were dilated and Chris saw a vein pound at the side of her neck.
    If they come by foot, it could take half an hour to get here. We left a clear trail to my cabin yesterday.
    By vehicle, they could be here any minute.
    “Let’s get inside,” he ordered. He gave Violet a small push on her shoulder. Her wide-eyed gaze was still locked on her mother’s bloody face.
    “No! We need to go to the police!” Gianna argued, planting her feet.
    Chris pointed at the snowmobile. “That won’t hold three of us.” He thought about his vehicle in the shed and for the hundredth time analyzed the depth of the snow and ice. It might handle these conditions. Or would I be risking our lives even more? Basic survival rules indicated that they stay with the shelter, but the murder had changed the rules. “Who do you pick to stay here alone?”
    Gianna looked from him to Violet, who’d stepped just inside the door and into some semblance of cover. She stared back at her mother.
    Indecision fluttered across Gianna’s face.
    Chris had already done the analysis. He wouldn’t let the two women leave on their own, and he wouldn’t leave anyone behind in the cabin. That left the three of them hunkering down. Unless we risk traveling through the snow in my vehicle.
    At least he was well armed.
    “Can you shoot?” he asked Gianna in a low voice.
    She pulled a gun out of the pocket of the bloody coat. “I took this off Frisco after he went down. I wanted something to protect myself with. But no, I’ve never shot one.”
    Crap.
    “Inside.” He took the weapon and coat from Gianna. They entered the house and he locked the door. “Violet, would you check all the locks on the windows? And close all the shades.” They should already be locked, but he needed to cross the verification off his mental list.
    He spread out the coat on his kitchen island, keeping the human-tissue spatter from touching the surface. He grabbed a roll of paper towels to tackle the worst of the goop.
    “You can’t do that! That’s evidence!”
    He met Gianna’s gaze. “If we have to leave the house, this coat is all that stands between you and freezing to death. Do you want some of this cleaned off so you can use it or do you want to save the coat for a crime scene technician?”
    She didn’t answer.
    He handed her the roll of paper towels, and strode across the room to his gun safe