CROSS HER HEART

by Leigh, Melinda

  He froze. Then his head whipped around. Bree had made no sound, but he must have sensed her presence. He wore a ski mask, but Bree felt his gaze on her.

  Bree’s gun was already pointed at his center mass. She remained partially concealed behind the wall. “Freeze.”

  Instead of obeying, he bolted for the door. Damn it. Bree couldn’t shoot him in the back. She didn’t see a weapon in his hand, and a man running away could not be considered a threat. She sprinted after him, but her socks slid on the floor. She wasted a few precious seconds trying to gain traction. When she reached the back door, he was already halfway across the yard. Bree shoved her feet into a pair of boots and ran out into the yard just as he disappeared into the barn.

  She sprinted across the crusty snow, the boots sliding as she stopped at the barn door. She glanced around the barn doorframe. The aisle was dark, but a huge shape rushed her.

  She sprang backward as a horse galloped out. Its shoulder brushed hers and knocked her on her butt. The remaining two animals were right behind the first.

  Bree sprang to her feet. Wind blew through her cable-knit sweater, but underneath, her skin was damp with adrenaline sweat. Leading with her weapon, she slipped into the barn. The aisle was empty. The back door gaped open. Had he left, or was he hiding?

  Looking up, she scanned the loft but couldn’t see most of it. There was only one way up, a ladder nailed to the wall. To climb it, she’d have to put her gun away.

  Not happening.

  But she listened for sounds overhead as she crept down the aisle.

  Straw rustled.

  Bree’s belly cramped.

  She moved to the first stall, putting her shoulder to the wall. She spun, sweeping her aim from corner to corner. From a narrow window set high in the wall, moonlight streamed across the bedding.

  Clear.

  Bree eyed the third stall door on the opposite side of the aisle. Sweat dripped down her back, chilled her skin, and lifted the hairs on the back of her neck. She eased across the wide dirt corridor, her eyes adjusting to the dimness.

  Squeak.

  A small, light-colored shape darted out from under the stall door, right across the toe of her boot. Bree jumped backward, purely on reflex, her heart protesting with a skipped beat as she identified a rat bigger than her tomcat. The rat scurried down the aisle. Its long, skinny tail disappeared into the feed room.

  Bree shuddered, then turned back to her search.

  What spooked the rat?

  She crept toward the third stall door. The moon had risen on the other side of the barn. The stall on this side was darker. Pressing her shoulder to the wall, she prepared to sweep around the doorframe. Something scraped above. Bree looked up. Bits of hay and dust rained down on her, followed by a whole bale. She turned and blocked her face and head with her arms as it crashed down on her upper back. The impact knocked her to the ground. She landed on her hands and knees, the wind whooshing out of her.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a man jump down into the aisle and run toward the rear door. Shaking hay out of her face, she scrambled to her feet and raced after him. Lungs aching, she rushed out of the barn.

  Where is he?

  She spotted his dark form on the snowy landscape as he used a tree stump and a fence post to scramble over the barbed-wire fence. Bree set after him. Fueled by the knowledge that this could be the man who’d killed her sister, Bree stretched her strides and began to gain on him.

  As she neared the pasture fence, he was only thirty feet in front of her. She leaped onto the tree stump. Her rubber boot slipped on a patch of ice. Her momentum carried her forward, and she landed on the barbed wire. A sharp sting lanced her ankle. The old post broke, and wire snapped, coiling at the sudden lack of tension. Bree got a knee under her body and pushed forward. But the loose wire had tangled around her legs. Kicking and pulling only tightened its hold. Barbs gripped her jeans and dug into her skin, but Bree barely registered the pain.

  Caught, she watched the man who might have killed her sister escape into the trees.

  She rolled to her back and stared at the sky for a long minute. She could no longer hold back her grief, frustration, and fear. Sobs racked her body, and tears overflowed her eyes. She’d lost her parents and the cousin who’d raised her. But Erin’s death was different. Bree was supposed to protect her little sister.

  Emotions gripped her heart as tightly and as painfully as the barbed wire wrapped around her ankles. Grey’s Hollow had caught her in its grip, and it would never let her go. She heaved in a deep, painful breath that felt as if the air were scraping in and out of her lungs, leaving her raw and vulnerable and hollow. A slideshow of her sister’s face, from babyhood to last August, raced through Bree’s mind, each image leaving a mark, like the tracks of fingernails in flesh.

  The cold seeped through her sweater, and she began to shiver. The breakdown lasted only a minute or two. Her sobs slowed, and she caught her breath.

  She sat up and wiped her face on her snow-covered sleeve. Ice pellets tumbled down the front of her sweater. Enough crying. She had work to do.

  She’d catch the bastard who had killed her sister. But she couldn’t do it alone. She needed help.

  She pulled out her phone, called 911, and gave the dispatcher the address. Ignoring the man’s request that she stay on the line, Bree ended the call.

  She carefully untangled the wire from around her ankles. Unwinding the wire proved much harder than getting caught in it. Bree nicked her fingers working the barbs free of her jeans. When the last point was extracted, she climbed to her feet.

  Cold and wet, she made her way back to the yard. Thankfully, the horses hadn’t gone far. They were nosing through the snow behind the house. Bree put them away and trudged up to the house.

  Luke stood at the kitchen door. He held a shotgun in his hands, the muzzle tipped toward the floor. Kayla’s white face peered out from behind him.

  “Here’s how he got in.” Luke pointed toward a circular hole cut in the glass pane above the deadbolt latch.

  Bree climbed the porch steps. She opened the flashlight app on her phone and shone it on the glass.

  Kayla’s eyes widened.

  “Don’t worry.” Bree squeezed her shoulder. “It’s not going to happen again. I’ll make sure of it.”

  Kayla nodded, but she looked only slightly less scared.

  “I’d better take that.” Bree motioned toward the shotgun. “The sheriff’s department is on the way.”

  “It’s Mom’s.” Luke handed her the gun.

  But Erin hated guns.

  Bree took the 20 gauge. “When did she buy it?”

  “A couple of months ago. We took a safety class together and a shooting one too.”

  “That’s good.” She unloaded the weapon and slid the shells into her pocket. “Where does she keep it?”

  “There’s a safe under her bed,” Luke said. “She gave me the combination. I thought I should get it out in case whoever broke in came back.”

  “You did great, Luke.” Bree patted his shoulder. “Are you OK, Kayla?”

  Nodding, Kayla clung to her brother. Bree returned the shotgun to the safe, then hugged both the kids as they waited in the living room. Red-and-blue lights swirled in the driveway as a sheriff’s department vehicle parked.

  Bree opened the front door. “I’m a police officer, and I’m armed.” She greeted the deputy, showed him her badge, and summarized the incident. She pointed to the trees behind the property. “He ran into the woods.”

  “There’s a road back there. We’ll check it out.” The deputy used his shoulder mic to call for another unit. When he was done, he asked, “Do you know how he got in?”

  “Through the back door.” Bree led him to the kitchen.

  “I’ll check the rest of the house and dust for prints,” the deputy said.

  Still holding on to her brother, Kayla shivered. While the deputy went to work, Bree washed her hands and put Band-Aids over the cuts
on her fingers. Then she made hot cocoa for all three of them. No one was going back to sleep just yet. She settled the kids in the living room with cocoa and some cookies she rooted out of the pantry. Luke turned on the TV and let Kayla choose a Disney movie.

  Bree went into the office and closed the french doors. The kids could see her through the glass. She didn’t know how to comfort them but sensed they needed her presence more than words.

  She began making plans. Keeping the kids safe was her first priority, and there was only one person she could call in the middle of the night for help—Dana. Then Matt’s face popped into her head.

  Maybe there were two.

  As she pulled out her phone, she thought about her sister’s shotgun. After what had happened to their parents, Erin had been determined that there would never be a firearm in her home. There was only one reason she would have bought a shotgun.

  She’d been afraid.

  But of whom?

  CHAPTER TEN

  Matt sat in the driver’s seat of his SUV, impatiently watching for his CI’s vehicle. Brody whined. His head turned toward the road.

  Matt touched the dog’s back. “Good boy.”

  A minute later, he heard the rumble of an approaching engine. He straightened as headlights swept across the snow. His body had stiffened in the cold. Under the glove, his hand felt like a frozen claw.

  A pickup truck turned into the parking lot. It drove in a slow, careful circle to the right side of the lot and stopped.

  Matt turned his headlights on and off three times in rapid succession. The truck answered with two blinks.

  Kevin.

  “Here we go.” Matt started the engine again and cruised toward the center of the lot. Cold air blew from the vents.

  Brody whined again.

  “It’ll be OK.”

  The dog cocked his head as if he questioned Matt’s opinion.

  Not wanting Kevin to see the dog, Matt commanded him to lie down in German. The dog complied, but his posture remained alert as Matt lowered the window.

  Matt commanded him to stay, then he climbed out of the SUV. The temperature had dropped into the single digits, and the air felt like tiny daggers to his eyeballs.

  Kevin stepped out of his truck and swung a handgun to point at Matt’s chest. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing texting me?”

  Matt raised his hands in front of his chest. “Whoa. I just needed to talk to you. I’ll make it worth your time. Since when do you carry a gun?”

  “Fuck you.” Kevin spat. The hand that held the gun trembled. “I haven’t heard from you in years. You’re not even a cop anymore. What do you want?”

  Matt didn’t move. He didn’t want to spook Kevin any more. The CI had gotten twitchier since Matt had seen him last.

  “Nothing. I swear.” Matt kept his voice calm. “We’ve known each other ten years, man.”

  “But you want something from me, right?” Kevin accused.

  “You’re right,” Matt admitted. “But I’ll pay you for the information, as always.”

  “Fuck you.” Kevin raised his arm, the gun pointing straight at Matt’s face.

  Matt’s heart stuttered. Sweat broke out under his coat. How could he deescalate the situation?

  Before he could react, dog tags jingled. Brody flew out of the SUV, took one running stride, and took Kevin to the ground. The gun went flying, skittering across the ice-crusted snow.

  “Help! Help!” Kevin screamed, trying to cover his head with his hands. “Don’t let him kill me!”

  Brody stood on Kevin’s chest, his bared teeth inches from the CI’s face. Matt kicked the gun away before calling off the dog. Brody didn’t move at first, and Matt had to issue the command again. The dog looked disappointed as he backed, stiff-legged, off Kevin’s chest and returned to Matt’s side.

  Matt picked up the leash. “You can get up now, Kevin. The dog won’t hurt you as long as you don’t do anything stupid.”

  Kevin climbed to his feet and swayed on shaky legs. Looking closer, Matt could see Kevin was gaunt. He’d been consuming more drugs than food. He was twenty-four years old but looked much, much older.

  “What happened to you, Kevin?” Matt asked.

  Kevin studied the ground. “What do you want?”

  “I’m looking for a local dealer, sells oxy.”

  “Everybody sells oxy.”

  “Goes by the name Nico,” Matt said.

  Kevin blinked up. Fear brightened his eyes for one second before he shut it down. “Don’t know him.”

  Yes, you do.

  “Are you sure?” Matt reached into his pocket and pulled out two twenties. He held them up.

  “Sorry.” Kevin shook his head. “Can’t help you.”

  Kevin was obviously afraid of Nico, but he was also an addict. And an addict could always be bought, because he valued his high more than his life.

  Matt added another twenty. “How about now?”

  Kevin licked his chapped lips. “I wish I could.”

  With a twinge of guilt, Matt added one more bill to his bribe. He wanted to give Kevin just enough cash to have a small party, but not enough to last long. He wanted Kevin to need to come back for more.

  Kevin froze. His shoulders slumped, and he nodded almost imperceptibly. Matt held the cash out, and Kevin reached for it. Brody growled low in his throat, and Kevin snatched the bills and stepped back.

  “This Nico is bad news?” Matt asked. He must be for Kevin to hold out so long.

  “Yeah.” Kevin fingered the cash in his pocket.

  “What can you tell me about him?”

  Kevin chewed on his lip.

  “Do you know Nico’s last name?” Matt asked.

  “Nope. Doubt that’s his real first name.”

  “What’s he look like?”

  “Skinny dude. Bald. Cold eyes.” Kevin shivered. “He don’t look like much, but he’ll fuck you up.” The wind picked up and whipped around them. Kevin shifted his weight. “That’s all I know. I gotta go.”

  “I need to find Nico.”

  “No way.” Kevin took two steps backward and began to turn away.

  “I’ll pay you two hundred dollars to help me.”

  Kevin stopped.

  “Tell him I want to buy some oxy.”

  Kevin looked at the ground and shook his head. “You still look like a cop. He’ll kill you.”

  “Don’t hide it then. Tell him I was a cop. I was shot, and now I need oxy.” The best lies skated as close to the truth as possible.

  “No promises.” Kevin shrugged, retrieved his gun, and started toward his pickup.

  “Hold on, Kevin.” Matt opened the back of his SUV and took out a protein bar and a bag of almonds he kept for emergencies. He offered them to Kevin, who blushed, looked away, and pocketed them.

  “Save some of that cash for food,” Matt said.

  Kevin nodded. But they both knew he wouldn’t. He slid back into his car and drove off, accelerating too fast and fishtailing out of the parking lot.

  Matt and Brody settled back in the SUV. Matt rubbed behind the dog’s ears. “Thanks for having my back.”

  Brody wagged his tail.

  Matt’s phone vibrated. He dug it out of his pocket. Bree’s number showed on his screen. He checked the time on his dashboard clock. One thirty. Unease rushed through him as he answered. “Bree?”

  “Yes. I’m sorry to call so late, but someone broke into the house.” The edge to her voice alarmed him further.

  “Is everyone OK?” Matt pressed the gas pedal. His Suburban leaped forward.

  “We’re fine. But the kids are scared. I think they’ll feel better with an extra adult in the house.”

  “On my way.” Matt dropped the phone in a cup holder, turned onto the road, and gunned the engine. He arrived within fifteen minutes of her call and parked next to a sheriff’s department vehicle. She must have been watching for him, because she opened the door before he knocked.

  “Thanks for
coming.” Her gaze dropped to the dog at his side.

  “I brought him for a reason.” Matt rested a hand on Brody’s head. “His senses are a thousand times sharper than ours. We can’t install a security system in the middle of the night, but no one will sneak into this house while Brody’s here.”

  “I know how valuable K-9s are. My issue with dogs is mine to deal with.” But she moved away from Brody as she stepped aside to let them into the house.

  The kids were watching TV. Their eyes were shadowed. Kayla was curled into a ball. She spotted the dog, sat up, and smiled. “Brody.”

  The dog trotted across the room, jumped onto the couch, and curled up between the kids. He wagged his tail and preened while Luke and Kayla petted and fussed over him.

  “Before Erin and Justin split up, Brody and I came here for dinner now and then,” Matt said.

  Bree locked the door and led him back to the kitchen. She wore jeans, a sweater, and her Glock.

  He leaned on the island. “Where’s the deputy?”

  “Looking for the intruder.” Bree pointed toward the back of the house. “Who ran into the trees.” The bright light over the kitchen island brought out the dark circles under her eyes.

  “When did you sleep last?”

  “It’s been a couple of days,” she admitted. “I’ll try to take a nap later.”

  “Brody and I can stay all night. Is there anything else you need?”

  “Thanks, but I have a friend from Philly coming tomorrow—now today—with some of my things.”

  A friend?

  Matt suppressed the quick burst of irritation. Bree’s friends were none of his business.

  “Do you think it was Justin who broke in tonight?” he asked.

  “I have no idea. He was wearing a mask, and I haven’t seen Justin in years. He never came with Erin when she brought the kids to see me.” She closed her eyes, as if picturing him. “The intruder was the right height, maybe five ten or eleven. He was wearing a bulky winter coat, but he seemed on the lean side. Not a particularly fast runner. If I hadn’t slipped and landed in the barbed wire, I would have caught him.”

  “That’s not enough of a description to know if it was him or not. Do you know if Justin still had a key to the house?” Matt asked. “If he did, he wouldn’t have needed to break in.”