Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 77728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Now I’ve got Holly’s life, her health, her happiness to consider.
If something were to happen to me, who’s gonna take care of her?
A soft creak from outside snares my attention. My train of thought halts in its tracks. There’s another creak, and then a dull thump.
Footsteps on the wooden planks outside.
The jangle of the back doorknob being tested.
More creaks and the purr of a blade slicing through the screen on the open kitchen window.
I keep still as a statue, shrouded in shadow, as gloved hands push the window open a few more inches.
Light from the microwave clock reflects off the intruder’s bald head.
My mouth goes dry. He’s here. Hoyt Renier.
And my gun is in the other room.
Bit by bit, Hoyt eases his long, insect-like form through the window, expertly avoiding the few plates from dinner still in the sink. He gathers himself inside and then lowers his boots to the hardwood.
I know he’s got a knife, but he wouldn’t have broken into an army vet’s house if he wasn’t also packing a gun.
My whole body feels like a live-fucking-wire. Edgy, anxious, ready to spark and start a fire. I wait for Hoyt to turn and face the other way before I say a word.
“Steady now,” I tell him. “Not another step.”
Hoyt stands stock still. I speak forcefully enough that I hope Austin can hear me from the living room.
“Drop the knife and put your hands on your head,” I say. “Do it now.”
My heart pounds at my temples. He doesn’t know I don’t actually have a gun yet, so I have to keep him facing the sink for as long as I can. Long enough to hopefully rouse Austin, or until I can get my own hands on a weapon.
“I know she’s here, detective,” Hoyt says quietly. “I can smell her.”
“Shut the fuck up.” I slowly push up from the table, my pulse rioting in my neck. “Toss the knife on the floor and put your hands on your head.”
He doesn’t move.
“I said drop the fucking knife, asshole.”
Hoyt lets go of his utility knife. It falls to the floor with a clatter. His hand disappears into his jacket.
“Hands on your fucking head, or I’ll blow it off,” I bark.
“Are you sure you want to do that, detective? Don’t you have questions for me?”
“Nothing comes to mind.” Sure, I’ve got questions. For the past two years, I’ve had nothing but questions. But now’s not the time for chitchat.
This devil in our midst is too damn close to Holly for my comfort.
He starts to turn around.
“Do not fucking move.”
But he does move. He turns and looks directly at me. At my empty hands. I step toward him as he reaches into his jacket, then stop dead as he levels a pistol at my chest.
Fuck...
“I look forward to finishing what I started with the blonde,” he says. “I think I’ll pose them together. Her and her red-haired friend.”
Fury unlike anything I’ve ever known rises within me at the image of Holly dead, naked, posed out in a field somewhere, like the others.
I lunge.
The gunshot blast is deafening.
I tackle Hoyt, hurling him against the refrigerator. I assume he must’ve missed, since I’m still standing and not bleeding, as far as I know.
His gun falls to the floor with a thud as he slumps my arms like a ragdoll. Suddenly, I’m the only thing holding him up.
“Cal...”
My ears ring. Light fills the kitchen, illuminating the blood spatter on the cabinets. The deep red pooling on the floor.
I hear someone calling my name from the opposite end of the house. A hand clamps onto my shoulder. I turn to find Austin shaking me, holding his Glock.
“Cal,” he says, his voice slightly clearer, louder.
My feet skid in Hoyt’s blood as I slide with him to the floor. His eyes stare blankly at the ceiling. I blink and for a second it’s Vicki I’m holding, her lifeless eyes gazing up at nothing.
“He’s gone,” Austin says. “Let him go.”
I let go of Hoyt’s limp body and accept Austin’s help in dragging myself to my feet.
“Cal?” Holly fills the doorway, her hair and eyes wild. She sees the blood on my hands, smeared across my chest, soaked into my pants.
“It’s not mine,” I say.
McKenzie appears at Holly’s side. She grabs onto the doorframe, her chest rising and falling as her breathing grows shallow.
“That’s him,” she says. “He found us...”
Holly turns McKenzie away from the carnage.
“He’s gone now,” Holly says. “You don’t have to be afraid anymore.”
McKenzie starts to cry, and so does Holly. My instinct is to gather my baby into my arms. But there’s another man’s blood all over me, and Holly’s got her own hands full with her friend.
I settle for telling them both, “It’s gonna be okay. It’s over.”
Even with a body on the floor in front of her, I can tell Holly doesn’t believe me, and she’s right to be skeptical. I told her she would be safe tonight. That she and McKenzie were safe here. But somewhere down the line, I put my trust in the wrong place, the wrong people.