Taken In Texas. Susan SleemanЧитать онлайн книгу.
calling about the welfare check you did this morning for Eve Smalley. I’m following up at her residence now and wondered if you found anything odd when you were here.”
“Yeah, maybe.” His cheery tone evaporated. “The car was in the drive. Didn’t look like it’d been driven in some time, but she didn’t answer the door. I looked in the windows and saw nothing odd. Both doors were locked. There wasn’t any sign of foul play, so I couldn’t enter the home. I asked the desk sergeant to follow up with the nephew.”
“That’s why I’m here now. Nephew says the aunt doesn’t go out at night and asked us to check back, but the car’s here, and there aren’t any lights on.”
“Doesn’t sound good.” Dylan’s alarming tone raised Kendall’s concern even more. “Maybe we can get the nephew to drive over from Houston.”
Kendall swallowed down her worry. “No point in making him do so if it’s a false alarm. I’ll take a good look around first.”
“Let me know what happens, okay?”
“Sure thing.” She disconnected and stowed her phone.
She took her car keys and closed the door, leaving the vehicle running to keep the lights trained on the house. Their squad cars were equipped with a Run Lock System, so if someone tried to steal the car and engaged either the hand or foot brake, the engine immediately cut out.
She pocketed her keys, snapped off the safety strap on her holster and cautiously approached the door. She pounded hard, and her training kicked in, forcing her to stand next to the door and out of the line of fire should there be an altercation.
Kendall listened carefully—cicadas buzzing in the woods was the only sound—and then knocked again. “Mrs. Smalley, Deputy McKade here. I need to talk to you.”
A faint rustling came from inside. She waited for the door to open. It didn’t. Had she wanted the woman to be home so badly that she imagined the sound?
She pounded harder. No one came to the door. She twisted the doorknob. Locked. Time for that look around the property.
She made her way to the side of the house, running the flashlight over thick shrubs hugging the foundation. A soft breeze played across the yard but did nothing to lessen the eighty-degree temperature, raised another five degrees by heavy humidity.
Kendall stopped at the first window and peered in but saw nothing in the darkness beyond the first few feet of wood flooring. Easing ahead, her back against the house for protection, she glanced in the next window near the rear of the unfenced yard. She pressed her hands against the glass and rested her face on them. A man’s silhouette flashed in the distance, then was swallowed up by the darkness.
What in the world? No one else had a key. Or should be there.
Instincts had Kendall shooting back and grabbing her radio. “221 requesting backup at Smalley residence. Possible intruder.”
“Copy,” the dispatcher said.
A loud crash sounded inside. A shot of adrenaline hit Kendall hard. Indecision followed.
She should wait for backup. No, she couldn’t. Not when this older woman could be hurt. Maybe in danger. The home was located on the far-north side of their county. It could be ten minutes or more before backup arrived, and Mrs. Smalley could be dead by then.
Kendall lifted her gun and flashlight, then eased ahead. She swung around the rear wall and took three steps up to a deck. She turned the knob on the back door. Unlocked.
Odd. Dylan said it had been locked that morning.
Kendall scanned the wood and doorjamb—saw no sign of forced entry, but the intruder could’ve come in a window. She pushed the door open and stepped off to the side to listen.
Silence reigned. No movement.
“Police!” she shouted. “Show yourself. Come to the door with your hands on your head.”
She waited. Counting.
One. Two. Three. Going higher and higher. Hitting twenty.
“This is your last warning,” she called out. “Show yourself with hands on your head.”
No sound. No movement.
She stepped to the door. Shone her light inside. Paused. Assessed.
The kitchen lay ahead. A door on the far wall led out of the room. She ran her flashlight over the space. Old cabinets. A small table. Worn flooring with a large puddle of dried blood.
Blood. There was blood. Something bad had happened here. Not just now, as the blood had dried. But it had happened.
Disturbing images built in Kendall’s mind, and the hairs on the back of her neck rose. She held up her service weapon. Her heart thumping, she stepped in and headed toward the door.
Silently. Slowly. Cautiously.
She pointed her flashlight into the opening before she moved forward and put herself in a vulnerable position. The hallway stood ahead of her, with several large openings on each side. Keeping her gun raised, she entered.
She turned to clear the room on the right and took a few steps into a dining room. All clear.
The floorboards creaked behind her.
She spun around. Her flashlight beam illuminated a man in his thirties with a surprised look on his face. He lifted his arms overhead. She tried to move back. Was too slow. He swung a heavy wooden rolling pin with gloved hands, hitting her square in the forehead.
A razor-sharp jolt of pain bored into her head, and a wave of dizziness hit her hard. She wobbled. Reached out to grab the wall. Couldn’t find it and lurched to the side. She felt her body crumpling. Slowly. Dropping to the floor.
No. No. You have to stay up.
A karate chop hit her arm, and her gun skittered away.
She was helpless now. Unarmed, with an intruder standing over her.
No, God, please no.
She crashed to the floor.
Get your gun. Now, before he does. Find it. Protect yourself.
She tried to lift her arm but a black curtain closed over her eyes. She was in extreme danger, and she could do nothing to stave off the darkness.
Her world faded to black.
Detective Cord Goodwin didn’t like what he was seeing.
A deputy was at his aunt’s house. Fine. Good, even. He’d been trying to get ahold of Eve, and she didn’t answer her phone. That was unlike her, so he’d asked the sheriff’s department to do a welfare check and they didn’t find her at home. They’d promised to come back out that night. He’d just been too worried not to come in person, so the minute he could get away from his job as a homicide detective to make the drive from Houston, he did. He’d expected to find Eve home. Hoped to find her, at least. But the house was black as the night, a patrol vehicle running in the drive and no sign of the deputy. That he didn’t expect.
There was only one thing to do about it—check it out.
He removed his off-duty weapon from his ankle holster and made an entry plan. He was facing a touchy situation. He had to announce himself or the deputy might mistake him for a prowler, but if he did call out, he would distract the deputy.
Still, it was better to announce himself than to take a bullet from some rookie who might panic. Of course, it might not be a rookie. Might be someone he’d worked with when he’d been employed by the Lake County Sheriff’s Department. He could hardly believe six years had passed since then, but with very little turnover on the force, he might very well know the responding deputy.
Could even be Kendall. Wouldn’t that be something, seeing her again after all these years?
They’d