Love Inspired Suspense May 2015 #2

by Susan Sleeman

  A shadow passed outside her bedroom room window, and Brody growled deep in his throat. Laney’s pulse quickened—then she shook her head, chastising herself for being so jumpy. Agent DeMarco had probably decided to take another look around. She pulled back the curtain, peering out the window. There was no sign of him. Or anyone else.

  “It’s okay, boy.” Brody had always had a protective streak in him—surprising since he had failed his temperament test for the Secret Service as a puppy. Too laid back, they’d said.

  She’d been under contract with the company that supplied the puppies and had been given first choice for adoption. She’d seen the potential in him and had turned him into a top-notch search dog, cross-trained in both air scent and human remains detection. He was her first partner. In the years they’d worked together, they’d logged more than a hundred searches in the Colorado wilderness and had twenty-eight live finds to their credit. His hips forced him into early retirement at the age of six. By then, Jax was already trained and operational as an air scent dog. She’d worked exclusively with Jax then, only retiring him after the accident—and before he was able to complete his human-remains detection training.

  She knew both dogs missed the work, so she regularly ran training exercises on the weekends with the neighborhood children. That training was all the “action” any of them saw these days. She hadn’t been on a real search since that last find. The one that left three teammates dead.

  Shaking off the thought, she went into her bathroom, ran a comb through her hair and scrubbed traces of blood from her face.

  The doorbell rang, and she hurried to the foyer. Both dogs barked three times and remained at her heel—their signal for a visitor. Laney pointed to the cushions in the corner of the family room, as customary when visitors arrived, and gave the command “place.” The dogs immediately sat, eyes trained on Laney, waiting for the next command. She peered out the peephole, saw Agent DeMarco standing on the porch and opened the door. “I take it everything’s clear?” she asked.

  He nodded, his eyes scanning the room before his gaze settled on her. “You changed.” He smiled, and she was drawn to the dimple at the corner of his mouth. “That look suits you.” Her face warmed under his scrutiny. For once, a quick comeback failed her.

  “Don’t you have a security system out here?”

  Laney gestured toward the dogs. “There’s my security system.”

  “Dogs are a great deterrent, but I’d feel a whole lot better if you had a top-notch alarm.” He turned, inspecting the deadbolt on the front door.

  “It would be a waste of money, Agent DeMarco. Aside from some recent vandalism and petty theft in Wynwood, we’ve never had much crime out here. It’s a long walk down that access road in the dark, and we’d hear a car coming up the gravel drive before it could reach us.”

  “A walk down the gravel driveway in the dark versus announcing their presence and a lifetime in prison? How do you think a criminal would weigh that?”

  “Point taken.”

  Grayson turned his attention back to her. “I see the bandage is gone.”

  He closed the small gap between them.

  “Do you mind if I look?” he asked, gesturing to her temple.

  She shook her head, and then he was in her space, and she was breathing the fresh scent of the outdoors mixed with something dark and undeniably masculine. “Go ahead,” she responded, her voice just a little rougher than she wanted it to be.

  He gently lifted her hair, his warm fingers lightly brushing her forehead. Laney’s cheeks heated as he studied the wound.

  Finally, he let her hair drop back into place. “The scar shouldn’t be very noticeable once it heals.”

  “I’m not worried about it. I’m alive. That’s way better than the alternative.”

  “Agreed.” He smiled, absently fingering the scar on his left brow.

  Had he received it in the line of duty, or was it a battle scar from some childhood antic? She didn’t know him well enough to ask, but neither scenario would surprise her. He seemed determined and relentless. Those traits were likely to get a kid into all kinds of trouble.

  “But I’ve found that women can be a little more self-conscious about scars on their faces than most of the men I know,” he said.

  She shrugged. “We all have scars. Some just run deeper or are more visible than others.”

  She took a seat on the overstuffed, well-worn leather reclining chair that still smelled of her grandfather’s cherry tobacco. She breathed in the scent. Felt herself calming at the memories of him. This home, and her grandfather, had often been her refuge as a child, avoiding her father’s drunken rages and her mother’s frequent bouts of depression. In her teens, she’d spent more time at her granddad’s house, helping him with the kennels and the dog training, than she’d spent in her own home. His passing last year had left a void no one could fill.

  Laney looked at the dogs, who were eyeing Agent DeMarco with interest. “The dogs want to say hello. Do you mind?”

  “Not at all. I love dogs.”

  Laney gave a quick hand signal with the word “break.” At her command, both dogs bounded off their pillows and headed over to Agent DeMarco, tails wagging. He smiled, rubbing them behind the ears.

  “The Aussie is Jax, and the Mal is Brody.”

  “They’re great.”

  “Thanks.” Laney smiled. “They love attention—they’ll sit there all night as long as they’re getting petted. Do you have a dog?”

  “No.” Agent DeMarco smiled. “I’ve thought about getting one, but the truth is, I work too much. It wouldn’t be fair to leave it home alone all the time.”

  “Dogs do need companionship.”

  “Laney!” Rose called. “Is someone here?”

  She had to know someone was. Despite her age, she had perfect hearing. “Yes. We’re in the living room.”

  “Who is it?” Rose asked, sashaying into the room wearing a fuzzy teal robe and a muted pink granny nightgown. Laney might have believed that she’d just rolled out of bed and hurried down the hall, but every hair on Rose’s head was in place. She had powder on her cheeks and pink lipstick on her lips. She smiled sweetly as she spotted Agent DeMarco. “Oh, I didn’t know you were here, Gray.”

  “I was looking around outside and decided I’d check in before I left.”

  “Would you like a cup of tea?”

  “No, thank you. I’ll be heading out in a minute.”

  “Maybe you could give Aunt Rose a ride back to her place?” All Laney wanted to do was get in bed and fall asleep. She definitely did not need Aunt Rose flitting about, making herself “useful.” As much as she loved Aunt Rose, the woman had more energy than three people combined, and Laney wasn’t sure she could handle that tonight.

  “What?” Rose responded with a frown. “I’m staying here tonight, remember?”

  “There’s no need. I don’t plan on doing anything but sleeping. I’m sure you’d be more comfortable in your own bed.”

  “Well, that’s a thought, but it’s not going to happen,” Rose said, grabbing the bag from the foyer floor as she entered the family room. “You heard what the doctor said—you shouldn’t be alone for a few days.”

  “The doctor was speaking out of an abundance of caution.”

  “She was speaking out of genuine concern for your well-being!”

  “I agree with Rose,” Agent DeMarco interjected.

  “And that’s supposed to make me concede?” Laney asked, shooting him a sideways look.

  “I once knew a man who got knocked in the head by a piece of shrapnel,” Agent DeMarco said. “He thought he was fine until he wasn’t.”

  “If you’re going to tell me he keeled over and died, I’m not going to believe you.”

  “I was going to tell you that he ended up in the hospital in a coma for two weeks, but your version is a lot more compelling.”

  If she hadn’t been so tired, if her head hadn’t been aching so badly, she might have
smiled at that.

  “That’s settled, then,” Rose stated matter-of-factly. “There is no way I’m leaving you here and having you fall into a coma. You look a little flushed. Have you taken your painkiller yet?”

  “No, I haven’t had a chance. I’ll take some in a minute.”

  “You’ll take some now.” Rose rifled through the bag, pulling out the bottle of pills. “I’ll get a glass of water. Stay put.” She hurried off.

  Which left Laney and Agent DeMarco alone in the family room.

  That should have been fine. She was used to being around male law enforcement officers.

  But it felt odd having him there, eyeing her somberly.

  “What?” she finally asked.

  “I got word that the sketch artist flies in at one-fifteen tomorrow. I’ll have her here between two and three, depending on traffic.”

  “That seems a long time to wait…”

  “She’s worth the wait. The best in the nation.” Agent DeMarco studied her. She felt her face flush under his scrutiny. “Are you sure you’re going to be up to working with her?”

  “I’d work with her now if I could.”

  “Just take care of yourself between now and then.”

  “You’ve got to make sure your key witness stays healthy, huh?” she joked. Only Agent DeMarco didn’t look like he thought it was funny.

  “I need to make sure you stay healthy,” he responded. “You’re important to my case, but you’re also a civilian, and it’s my job to make sure you stay safe.”

  “It’s not—”

  He held up a hand. “It’s late. You need to rest, and I’ve got to meet Andrews at the precinct. Stay inside. Don’t leave the house for any reason—not to walk the dogs, not to run to the grocery store, not to check the mail. Not for anything.”

  Having never been one who liked to be told what to do, Laney tried to control her annoyance at his demanding tone. She’d been making her own decisions since she was eight and was accustomed to weighing her options and deciding the best course of action for herself. In the end, she was the one who had to deal with the consequences of her choices. “Agent DeMarco, I appreciate your concern, but…”

  “Call me Grayson, or Gray. Your aunt already took the liberty, so it only seems fitting that you do as well.”

  “Fine, Grayson. I appreciate your concern, but let’s not forget there’s an officer parked right outside.”

  “Don’t be lulled into a false sense of security. Remember, if someone manages to get to you, they’ll get to your aunt, too.”

  He had a point, and she’d be foolish not to consider it. If something happened to Laney, if she was shot or wounded or attacked, Aunt Rose would run out to help. “Okay. I’ll stay close to home.” She had a few board-and-trains in the kennel, but that was a short walk from the house.

  “Glad to hear it.” His gaze jumped to a point beyond her shoulder, and he smiled. “You’re just in time, Rose. I’ve got to head out of here.”

  “I found your jacket hanging over a chair in the kitchen.” Rose handed it over. “And Laney’s business card is in the pocket. Just in case you need to reach her.”

  “Aunt Rose!” Laney protested, but Grayson was already walking out the door, pulling it firmly shut behind him.

  She crossed to the window and pulled back the curtain just enough to peek outside. She felt foolish doing it, like a teenager mooning over a secret crush, but she still watched him stop and chat with the officer before getting in the car, anyway. Her work cell phone buzzed, but she ignored it. Probably Kent checking in on her.

  It buzzed again, and she sighed, letting the curtain drop and grabbing the phone from the coffee table. She had two text messages from a number she didn’t recognize. Curious, she opened the first one. Get away from the window, and save this number in your contacts. Gray.

  The second one said, See you tomorrow afternoon.

  That made her smile. She was still smiling as she said good-night to Rose and headed to her room.

  SEVEN

  Laney usually slept with her windows open in the early fall, but after Grayson’s warnings, she thought it best to keep them closed. It was nearly midnight by the time she pulled the comforter around her and lowered her head onto her soft down pillow. She closed her eyes against the dull ache in her temple. Even after Rose had retired to the spare room and the house had grown quiet, Laney found herself shifting restlessly in her bed, sleep evading her despite her exhaustion. It seemed like hours before she was finally lulled to sleep by the soft breathing of her dogs.

  She woke with a start, blood rushing loudly in her ears with every beat of her heart. She lay still, trying to control her breathing, listening for some sign of what had yanked her from her sleep. The silence was deafening. Pale silver moonlight streamed in through a sliver of an opening in the curtains, casting its eerie glow across her bedroom walls and floor. The blue numbers on her digital alarm clock announced the time as two-fifteen.

  Suddenly Brody emitted a low growl. Rising from his spot on the floor, hackles up, he walked toward the window. Soon Jax was beside him, a silent sentry focused on the window. A small scraping sound caught her attention—like a tree branch brushing softly against the screen or the siding. But there were no trees outside her window. Was someone there? A dark shadow outside the window blocked the moon’s light for a brief instant, and she knew. Something—or someone—was there.

  She grabbed her cell phone, hands shaking as she found Grayson’s number and dialed. He picked up on the first ring.

  “Grayson?” Laney whispered. “It’s Laney.”

  “Laney.” His voice was instantly alert. “What is it?”

  “I’m not sure.” Her voice trembled as she tried to keep from being heard by whoever was out there. “The dogs are growling, and I thought I saw a shadow pass by my window.” She paused, listening. “I’ll admit I’m a little on edge after tonight, so I might be overreacting… It could just be the officer looking around. Should I go check?”

  “No,” Grayson answered quickly, voice firm. “I’m on my way. Stay away from the windows. Call 911, wake up Rose, and turn on every light in the house. If it’s the officer, we’ll sort it out in a hurry.”

  “Okay, I’ll do that now—” A muffled thud interrupted her, followed by a sudden shout from down the hall.

  Aunt Rose!

  “Oh, no!” She gasped, dropping her phone as she launched herself from the bed with a yell. “I’m coming, Aunt Rose!”

  Heart in her throat, she ran toward the door, grabbing her mace from the dresser and rushing down the hall, the dogs at her heels. Flinging the guest room door open, she barged in, mace at the ready, prepared for the worst.

  The window was wide open, screen missing. The curtains flapped in the breeze. Bright silver illuminated the room.

  And a man. Dressed in dark clothing and wearing a ski mask.

  He advanced toward Rose who was backing toward the wall, mace in hand. Ducking his head, the intruder shielded his face with one hand to avoid the foam mace shooting out from Rose’s special-edition breast-cancer-awareness canister. The mace did actually have as good a range as the canister, and Rose, had claimed. Unfortunately, Rose’s aim was not as reliable. From the amount of foam on the floor, wall, and intruder himself, there couldn’t be much left in the canister.

  The intruder must have known it. He snagged Rose’s nightgown, jerked her toward him. Something glinted in his free hand.

  Laney’s pulse jumped. A gun.

  Without thinking, she rushed toward them, bare feet slipping on the hardwood floor slick with foam mace. The dogs followed her in.

  “Halt!” Laney commanded the dogs to keep them out of the mace. The dogs stopped immediately at the emergency command. Both Rose and the intruder looked her way.

  Aunt Rose ineffectively pelted the man with her small fist and the mace can, her face flushed and angry. Foam mace covered the left side of the intruder’s ski mask. Though his left eye was squin
ted shut, he glared at Laney with his unaffected right eye. It was then he caught sight of the dogs behind her and hesitated.

  “Brody. Jax. Danger.” On her command, the dogs growled. “Don’t move, or you’ll be dog food,” she yelled, mace at the ready.

  It was a bluff, a scare tactic. Jax and Brody were search dogs, and not cross-trained in protection. But their teeth were bared, their growls menacing. The man stilled. “Put your hands where I can see them and step away from my aunt.” Laney’s calm command belied her terror for Rose. Years spent working with dogs that were far more sensitive to moods than the average person had taught her to control her emotions.

  The man released Rose, shoving her away from him and taking a step toward Laney, hands raised, gun still in his grasp. Glancing first at the door, then toward the window as if calculating his likelihood of a quick getaway, he took yet another step closer.

  Could this be one of the kidnappers? If he was, Laney couldn’t afford to let him get away. He could lead them to Olivia and the others. She needed to figure out how to detain him until help arrived.

  “Drop the gun,” she ordered, her gaze and the can of mace trained on him.

  “That’s not gonna happen,” he sneered, teeth gleaming behind the ski mask as he stepped forward. Brody’s growls turned to a menacing bark.

  “Don’t move another step,” she warned him. “I mean it.”

  Behind him, Rose quietly sidled around the wall to the dresser. Grabbing a large vase of flowers and hoisting it over her head, she launched it with as much force as she could muster. Unfortunately she wasn’t very strong, and the water-filled vase was heavy. It hit him near the base of the neck, covering him with flower petals and water as it deflected off his shoulder and smashed to the floor—shards of glass mixing with flowers, foam mace and water.

  The man cursed, quickly turning on Rose. In a blink, she grabbed the empty mace canister and pitched it at the intruder. He deflected it easily, rushing toward her as she scrambled across the bed in an attempt to evade his reach.