The Marine's Last Defence. Angi Morgan
was getting Joey as far away from the house as possible. “Get behind that car,” she told Joey, who seemed mesmerized.
“But he said—”
“I don’t care. Get up and move.”
Faster than she thought possible, they were sitting with their backs against the tires. She expected gunfire to explode around them at any moment. The more seconds that ticked by, the easier she breathed, and the more she realized she needed to sneak away before the cop returned.
Her feet were stinging from the cold. Could she get somewhere safe without any shoes?
Scratching against glass. She heard a familiar bark and whine. Dallas.
The pup was in good hands. The cop would take care of everything. She could leave without him ever really seeing her face. She shivered from the cold, wiping melting snow from her skin. She could get another used coat when she picked up a new suitcase.
Oh, no! The money!
Whether it was her exasperated cry of utter disappointment or her slow recovery from having been scared to death, Joey responded with an awkward pat on her shoulder.
“Was there really someone inside with a gun?” the teen asked, unable to hide the excitement in his voice. “Was she, like, being robbed or something?”
He started to stand and she tugged him back to her side.
“How did Dallas end up with a policeman? What’s going on?”
“See, we was, like, going down to do some stunts in the empty lot and instead there was a lot of cop cars. They hauled somebody off in, like, a real body bag and everything. Then we notice this guy and he had Dallas. So I went over and asked him why.”
During the explanation, her heart ventured into another part of her body again. “Do you know who died?”
Dallas barked, pawing at the door.
“You’re Mrs. Richardson?” the detective asked, coming around the end of his car. “Is this your dog?”
“Nope, this is Bree. She’s the dog sitter,” Joey answered.
Jake had a strange look on his face. He listened intently the entire time and never took his eyes off her. Sabrina knew he was tall. He’d towered over her at the diner, but from a sitting position on the ground, he was frighteningly tall. It didn’t help that his wary approach seemed ominous. She knew he was legit and not a part of the higher-ups, but she couldn’t stop shaking.
“Can I go now?” Joey asked, touching her hand.
She hadn’t known she still held the teen’s arm. She released him and the cop came closer. He didn’t slide around on the quickly defrosting ice. But his clothes looked like he’d already taken a couple of bad spills. She’d seen them in detail at the diner.
“Thanks for the directions, kid.”
“I gotta go tell everybody what happened,” Joey said. He was down the hill and nearly around the corner by the time she turned to face Jake.
Jake? Detective Craig! The same detective who does not need your phone number, she realized. Oh, my gosh. She was even rambling nervously in her thoughts.
“Hold on a minute, sweetheart.”
“What?”
He reached past her and stuck his arm inside the car, then swung the door open and Dallas leaped out. The pup joined her, crowding her face with a cold nose. She automatically began running her fingers across the pup’s sides. While her chin was being licked, Bree shifted her gaze from the ground, connecting with the detective’s curious observation.
The images of a gun, body bags, jail... They all circled her head, making it swim. Brenda Ellen would have been walking Dallas last night. She felt desperately ill and dropped her face into the black fur.
“You didn’t catch him?” she asked.
“I didn’t find anyone, no.”
“Is she...? Is that why you were bringing Dallas home?” Oh, my gosh, she’s dead. Sabrina could tell she was right by the detective’s sympathetic sigh and awkwardness.
“I need to ask you a few questions, Miss Bowman.” He extended his hand to help her stand.
Sabrina had no choice. Because of her, Brenda Ellen had died. Perhaps she should be arrested and leave the investigating to professionals. She placed her cold fingers within his warm grip and stood. She didn’t want to go to jail. “I’m Bree.”
“Yeah, I remember.”
He kept hold of her hand, steadying her. Gone was the shyness, the awkward bit of flirtation from the diner. They stood there for several seconds until Dallas whimpered and pawed at her legs.
“Maybe we should go inside?” he asked.
“Can we? After that guy was there? I mean, don’t you need fingerprints or something? He killed Brenda Ellen.”
“Did you actually see someone?” He shoved into her hand some silver material that he’d used for a leash, then tugged her to the sidewalk, protectively pushing her a couple of feet behind a giant sycamore. She winced as the snow covered her feet.
“He pointed a gun at Joey out the door. The kitchen’s a wreck and you said someone killed her.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Didn’t you?”
“No.”
“But you found a body and Dallas was at the lake. There’s eggs and grease and a mess.” She wasn’t making sense and, from his curious expression, could tell he was confused.
“Did you actually see someone in the house?”
“Yes. He chased me outside and was going to shoot us, but then you got here.”
“What makes you think that? What did he look like?”
“I don’t know. He had a mask and a gun. I saw the gun.” Her hands shook. She hadn’t been this frightened since stabbing Griffin with a scalpel. “She never, ever eats fried food.”
“Ma’am, I’m having a hard time following. You aren’t making much sense. I didn’t find anyone inside, but I can check it out if you want to wait in the car.”
* * *
“HE KILLED HER, didn’t he?”
Bree Bowman was losing it and sort of melted onto the sidewalk along with the snow from the night before. He didn’t believe she’d actually fainted but it was close. Jake did the only thing he knew how to do...
He grabbed the leash and lifted Bree. She was a tiny thing, fitting easily into his arms. She was crying hard, and was half-frozen from being outside without a coat or shoes. Her tiny feet were a bluish color, waving in the air. His only option was the house. Crime scene or not.
The door banged half open again. He took a second to look this time at what it hit. He recognized the suitcase from the diner—so she was a house sitter, not only a dog walker. The bottom of the case was still wet, so she hadn’t been there long. She clung to the dog leash and Dallas pulled them a couple of steps forward. Jake whacked his hip on a drawer.
“I’m so sorry. I needed the meat mallet in case someone attacked.”
“Drop the leash, Bree.”
“I can’t.” She locked her arms around his neck, pulling herself closer. “She’ll run through the house, maybe destroy evidence. She’s certain to get into things and someone was here. They chased me.”
“I’ve got it. You can let go.” She searched his eyes and then let go as instructed.
When he set her on her feet, he kept an arm around her waist to steady her. Dallas continued to tug and beg to be free.