Wounded at Home

by Mitzi Pool Bridges

  Scrabbling in her purse, she pushed aside her laptop, her billfold, and grabbed her cell phone. With the toe of her high-heeled pump, she pushed the door open; fingers poised to dial 911, and listened closely for the slightest sound. Silence.

  Maybe whoever had been here took one look and left. If she were a thief, it’s what she would have done. Her apartment would be a total waste of time for anyone looking for something valuable.

  She poked her head inside, pulled it back. Fast. She was in the wrong apartment. Had to be.

  Carefully, she looked again. Then stepped back to look at the number on the door. One-Three-Zero.

  This couldn’t be her apartment. To prove it, she peeked around the door again. Her stuff lay broken and scattered like so much debris on the floor of her formerly neat and clean unit.

  The hand holding her cell phone was trembling and wet with sweat. She had to do this. Her heartbeat at a dangerous level, she stepped inside and listened. Total silence. She stepped over what had been her favorite chair, but was now a half a dozen pieces of wood and torn fabric. Everywhere she looked was the same. Whoever did this hadn’t been content until everything was destroyed. There wasn’t a single piece of furniture left whole. She edged into the kitchen. The table and chairs were kindling. Pots and pans were thrown haphazardly around the room. Most were dented. The coffeepot was destroyed. Her utensils were mixed with the kindling and mess on the floor.

  “Mom’s china!” If it was destroyed, she was going to commit murder herself. The dishes held memories of when they were a family, a broken family to be sure, with her dad off with another woman. Her mom had done her best to make up for his loss by serving Sunday dinner on her best china, a wedding gift from her own mother. It was Mom’s most treasured thing in the house.

  Sky opened the cabinet. It wasn’t there. Panic whipped higher yet. She looked around, opened every cabinet door to find nothing in them. Everything had been scraped onto the floor and smashed. Had the china been stolen? Then she opened the dishwasher. There they were, the only things she had of her mother’s, cracked and broken into pieces. Tears clouded her vision. Blinking them away, she reached inside and pulled out a coffee cup that had escaped the intruder’s wrath. When tears threatened again, she slammed the dishwasher door shut and stuffed the cup into her bag.

  The china had been the only thing the sisters quarreled over when Mom died. Dory declared they were hers because, at the age of twenty, she was the oldest. Sky admitted her sister was right, but she wanted the dishes because they brought back memories of their mom. Not great memories, but the Sunday dinners were special because her mom had tried.

  Normally, Sky didn’t cry to get her way. That was Dory’s ploy, but that day she couldn’t hold them back. Maybe, for the first time in her life, Dory felt something for her little sister and acquiesced. Or maybe it was because over the years Dory had laughed at the old-fashioned china, telling everyone who would listen that the tiny pink roses with a thin rim of gold was out of style. Now it was destroyed.

  Picking up the base of a lamp, Sky stalked over to her closed bedroom door. Be there, she begged. She’d make the thief wish he’d never been born.

  Her heart pounding in her throat, she raised what was left of a lamp and yanked the door open. Silence—and more destruction. Why? Was this a random act or was someone looking for something? She didn’t have a single thing of value.

  She toed aside ripped bedding, clothes in shreds, and every piece of costume jewelry she owned. All were torn and smashed into bits of nothing.

  All of a sudden she felt weak in the knees. If she didn’t sit down, she was going to fall. Making her way to the bed wasn’t easy with so much stuff on the floor. The person who had done this had taken a knife and slit her mattress in dozens of places. She sat on it anyway, and let her gaze slide from one broken piece of her life to another.

  The table she’d picked up at a flea market was nothing but splintered pieces of wood. A pair of earrings her first boyfriend had given her, crushed—her high school graduation ring had obviously been stomped on, the birthstone opal ring her mother gave her on her sixteenth birthday was cracked.

  From where she sat she could see into the bathroom. She didn’t dare go in, as the floor was thick with a combination of body wash, powder, and the smell of her perfume. Her stomach rolled.

  She had to get out of here.

  Call the cops.

  Not yet. She grabbed both rings and stuffed them in her bag before she stepped into her walk-in closet. Her clothes were ripped into shreds. Even the new dress she’d bought a few weeks ago for the party her sister had been planning to throw for her bastard husband’s birthday was nothing but a rag. Frantic, Sky pulled blouses, skirts and suit jackets from the floor. There had to be something that wasn’t destroyed. She was wrong. Dizzy now from both the smell and the realization that she had nothing except what she had on her back and in her bag, she made her way to the door.

  Her eyes were so blurry she could scarcely see—her stomach so upset she thought she might throw up.

  She reached for the doorknob. Stopped. What was that? Taped to the door was a note. Without thinking, she tore it off and read, where is it bitch? If I don’t find it, you’ll die.

  Dear God. What did she have? Who was threatening to kill her? And what was it?

  Throwing the note in her purse, she ran down the hall, passing the porter who was mopping the floor. She didn’t stop. Didn’t acknowledge his greeting. She ran until she reached her car.

  With trembling hands, she found her keys and started the motor. She had to get out of here.

  This invasion had something to do with her sister. Someone wasn’t happy just having Dory behind bars, they wanted something else. The money! Whoever destroyed Sky’s apartment and threatened to kill her had framed Dory and lost the money in the process. Who?

  She didn’t know who was behind this. Not yet. There was no choice now, but to find out. Her life was at stake—her sister’s life ruined.

  She needed help, someone she could trust.

  The cops were convinced they had the killer so they refused to look elsewhere. But they didn’t have the missing money. Neither did the Feds.

  Like Dory had told her, the money was the key.

  That must have been what the intruder was after: maybe not the money itself, but the passcode—the numbers to access it.

  She needed help. There had to be someone.

  Think! She would need money to do anything.

  She couldn’t get her hands on her financial portfolio, which, thank God, was fairly healthy, so she went to a satellite bank and pulled out every penny she had in her checking account in cash, stopped at a discount store and picked up three pairs of jeans, four T-shirts, a light jacket, a pair of cheap sweats, a package of underwear, and socks. She threw in a pair of running shoes and a case of bottled water, added a few necessities. It was enough for now.

  She didn’t know where she would go, but wherever it was, she vowed to get to the bottom of this.

  In the car once more, she picked up her cell phone, dug through her purse for the business card the Fed had given her after she was interrogated, and dialed.

  “Special Agent Hansen.”

  Sky cleared her throat. “Agent Hansen, this is Skylar Chapman, we spoke earlier at the bank.”

  “I remember. Did you think of something that might help us find the money?”

  “No. But you might be interested in my apartment. When I arrived home an hour ago it was in shambles. You might want to take a look.”

  “Do you know why, Ms. Chapman?”

  “I don’t know, Agent Hansen. Maybe the person who killed my brother-in-law thinks I have the money he stole.”

  “We have the killer behind bars, so that isn’t possible, but I can see why someone might think you have the money.”

  “Do you now?”

  “You’re the killer’s sister. You work at the bank where the funds were transferred before they disappeare
d. It makes all kinds of sense.”

  “Sorry you think that.”

  “Where are you, Ms. Chapman?”

  Sky took the phone away from her ear and looked at it. What was it with these guys? Couldn’t they see beyond their nose? Or was it easier to make up a story to go along with the facts they manufactured?

  She hung up, got out of the car, and walked back into the store. On the way in, she threw her cell phone in the garbage can at the door, walked immediately to the electronics department, bought a throwaway phone, and paid for three hours of service before she hurried back to her car.

  She didn’t know how long it would take the Feds to get there, but was sure they were on their way. Just as sure that they would claim she’d destroyed her things to throw suspicion away from herself.

  She needed protection.

  It wouldn’t be with a gun: she had been terrified of guns since she was a child and a cousin accidently shot his sister. The sister had lived, but the incident stayed in Sky’s head to this day. A knife? She wasn’t strong enough or fast enough for one do any good. What did that leave?

  She was on I-45 and had passed Houston’s city limits sign before the numbness and shock began to wear off. She hadn’t taken note of her whereabouts—hadn’t noticed where she was going. It was time to get her head together. Make plans. Prove her sister’s innocence and get the killer or killers off her back.

  Her glance slid to her gas gauge. She didn’t want to stop, but had no choice. The urge to keep going was so strong she had to restrain herself from filling the tank and driving to parts unknown. Hiding. She could go anywhere. Forget her sister’s problems. If the situation were reversed, Dory would be the last person Sky would call for help. But she couldn’t do it. She was all Dory had. Her sister had money, or at least she should have. Her bastard husband had made a mint working for Steel Financial. Still, money alone wouldn’t solve the problem.

  Sky exited the freeway to get to a gas station. If she was going to help her sister, she couldn’t get too far from Houston. She’d have to do her investigation there, and at the same time have a safe place to stay. The road signs indicated she was in Conroe. It was as good a place as any to stay, get her bearings, and work out a plan of action.

  She filled her tank, went inside to pay, and go to the bathroom. It wasn’t going to be easy to pay cash for everything until this was over. But it was safer.

  She looked around for something to eat and found nothing but sweets and chips. Not to her tastes. Sighing, she went to the door and stopped, her attention caught by the corkboard to the left of the double door where a variety of business cards were attached. She didn’t want to stay at a motel. It would be too easy to find her, but if she could find a small house or an apartment…

  Walking over, she surveyed the listings. Nothing popped out at her. Then one of the cards drew her closer. Guard dog for sale. Will train to suit. There was a phone number and an address.

  It was the perfect solution to half of her immediate problems. Taking out a pen and paper, she copied the phone number and address and headed back to her car. Once there, she put the address into her GPS. In minutes she was off I-45 and onto an asphalt two-way road.

  She passed another big-box store and kept driving. It was getting darker now. Rain was imminent. Open fields lay on both sides of the road, and every so often there would be a house and barn. Then there was a small town. Dobbin. She noted the firehouse, a gas station with a small grocery store attached.

  The turn was up ahead.

  She made the turn, slowed. After about a half-mile there was a house. But the GPS told her to turn left, so she did, and spotted another house. You have reached your destination. Okay. She drove up to the house and stopped in the driveway.

  Dogs were barking behind the house.

  This had to be it. She gave a worried glance at the darkening sky and noted the rumble of distant thunder before getting out of her car. Following the dog sounds, she hoped and prayed she could get this over with and leave before the storm hit. Where she would go, she didn’t know.

  When she turned the corner next to a line of pens, she stopped.

  Straight ahead, a man and a dog were in the center of a lighted arena. The man gave a signal and the dog shot off so fast all she saw was a blur of movement. In seconds he was back. The man bent over and ruffled the dog’s fur. She could imagine him saying, good dog.

  Her gaze went to the area next to them where a woman stood at the fence and urged another dog around a penned-in area.

  This dog leapt at the woman’s signal, hurtled over a barrier, crawled through a pipe, jumped through a window of an old beat-up wreck of a car, raced around the track and was back in front of the woman before Sky could catch her breath.

  At a signal, the dog repeated the run. The dogs were magnificent. Sky had never seen anything so beautiful.

  Obviously, she was in the wrong place. With her limited funds, she could never afford a dog of this caliber.

  She turned to leave when the woman caught her eye and called the dog to her side.

  When they came toward her she saw that the woman was lovely, with shoulder-length brown hair and the most beautiful turquoise eyes Sky had ever seen. The dog trotted along beside her. Was he dangerous? She had the feeling he could be.

  When they reached her, the woman gave the dog a signal and he sat.

  “My name is Skylar Chapman. I came to see the guard dog advertised for sale.”

  “I’m Lanie Browning. You’ll need to talk to my brother-in-law Dirk, over there, about the dog. We don’t often have one for sale to the public, so this is an unusual situation.”

  “Are all of your dogs as beautiful as this one?”

  “I’m prejudiced. I think Thor is the best and the most gorgeous.”

  “I can see why. May I?” Sky asked and pointed to the beautiful dog.

  The woman nodded and Sky held out her hand.

  The fawn-colored dog sniffed, then licked her.

  “He likes you.”

  Sky turned to the other woman. “He’s the most beautiful German shepherd I’ve ever seen.”

  Lanie laughed. “He’s a Belgian Malinois and his name is Thor.”

  Sky’s gaze went to the man and dog on the field. “How long will he be?” Another rumble of thunder, closer now, made her nervous. Though lights from the field and from the buildings nearby made the area bright enough, darkness was closing in around them.

  “He’s almost through. Can I get you something to drink? Water? Soft drink?”

  “No, thanks. I really should go. There is no way I can afford one of your dogs. They’re gorgeous and professionally trained. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  Lanie smiled.

  “I guess I thought I would find some backyard operation that sold half-assed trained dogs for a hundred bucks. Tells you what I know.”

  “When I first came here, I had no idea about the scope of the brothers’ operation. It’s quite impressive, but don’t give up just yet. At least talk to Dirk first.”

  “Talk to me about what?”

  Sky whirled around and gasped. The man standing there was the most handsome guy she’d ever seen. His ice-blue eyes seemed to take her in in one swift glance. He was around six feet tall, his biceps and shoulders huge. His marine-cut hair was a nice light brown. A partial smile made his face light up. He was a WOW in the looks department.

  And he was just the type of man she stayed away from. Always.

  “Dirk, this is Skylar Chapman. She came to look at the guard dog you advertised. Sky, this is my brother-in-law, Dirk Browning.”

  They shook hands.

  “I’m afraid I’ve made a mistake,” Sky said. “There’s no way I can afford one of your beautiful dogs.”

  Dirk gave his sister-in-law a look and she quickly signaled his dog to follow her. “It’s going to rain soon, so I’ll leave you two to talk about dogs while I go back to the house. Nice to have met you, Ms. Chapman.”

&nb
sp; “Sky, please.”

  “Call me Lanie. I hope I see you later, if not, it was nice to meet you.” She turned to her brother-in-law. “Enjoy your dinner.”

  Dirk gave his sister-in-law a smile that would melt an iceberg. Sky’s eyes narrowed. This man was definitely one to stay away from.

  Lanie put his dog into a pen, signaled Thor to follow her, and left.

  “She’s nice.”

  “The best.”

  “I should leave.”

  “You came about a dog, didn’t you?”

  “Yes. I’m in the market for a guard dog.”

  “Then you’ve come to the right place.”

  She should leave. Right now. She didn’t have enough money to buy one of these professionally trained dogs and wanted to get out of this man’s orbit. Although, it wouldn’t hurt to look, would it? She really needed protection.

  She watched him intently as he headed toward the pens.

  Leave. Thirty seconds later, she stood beside him as he unlatched the door to a pen and a huge brown-and-tan German shepherd stepped out.

  Chapter Two

  Dirk had a hard time concentrating, as his gaze kept going to the medium-tall woman with the beautiful brown eyes. She was dressed conservatively in a black pantsuit and white blouse. Her shoes had heels, but not as high as others he’d seen.

  “His name is Sully.” He gave the signal to sit and the dog complied immediately.

  Sky sank to her knees in front of him. “You’re a beauty.” She rubbed his head, ran her hand down his back. Sully quivered.

  “Do I make him nervous?”

  Dirk chuckled. “More like you make him happy. He loves being petted.”

  She gave Sully one last pat and stood. “I’m sorry to have disturbed you, Mr. Browning, but I can’t afford this dog. I shouldn’t have come.”

  “Call me Dirk, and you don’t know the price.”

  “I can tell by looking.” Her voice was wistful, her gaze, as she looked at Sully, more so.

  “Can you tell me why you need a guard dog?”