Her heart beat against her ribs like a caged bird as she backed out of the parking space at her top reverse speed. The tires skidded when she braked and then squealed when she gunned the gas. The wheel slid through her palms and she shot forward. In her rearview mirror she saw him standing in the parking lot, watching her go.
Chapter Sixteen
“Hunter, I’m sorry to bother you at work.”
“It’s no problem, Nelle.” He pressed the phone closer to his ear to hear his neighbor over the road noise. The uncharacteristically tense tone of her voice told him all too clearly there was a problem, and he belatedly realized he’d been braced for one for the last five days, because Madison had been jumpy as a cat ever since she’d gone back to work. He put into words the concern foremost in his mind. “Is Joy okay?”
“She’s absolutely fine. We both are. But you need to come home, honey. Someone just broke into your house. The police are on the way.”
“Well, shit. Seriously?”
“’Fraid so. I took Joy on a walk, and on the way back, I caught sight of someone sneaking around the side of your garage. I rushed home and cal
led the police while Walt next door grabbed his deer dropper and hustled over to your place. I guess he stood on the porch, cocked that old gun, and warned everyone within earshot the next sound coming would be the blast of a double barrel. The intruder flew out your backdoor like a bat out of hell.”
Fuck. He was lucky he didn’t have a dead neighbor on his porch. Crime was rare in the neighborhood, and break-ins practically unheard of, but apparently the unofficial neighborhood watch stayed on high alert nonetheless. Equally apparent, his seventy-year-old hunting enthusiast neighbor needed a reminder that while an eight-point buck rarely packed heat, a strung-out crackhead just might.
“Thanks for letting me know. I’m on my way. Do me a favor and remind Walt to put the gun away before the cops show up.”
She agreed and then hung up. To Beau, he said, “I gotta clock out. Someone broke into my house.”
His partner kept his attention on the road and his hands on the wheel, but he asked, “Everybody’s okay?”
“Sounds like it, yeah. Madison’s at work, and Joy’s with the lady across the street.” He briefly ran through what Nelle had told him.
“That sucks,” Beau offered, “but lucky your neighbor happened by when she did.”
“Yeah. I need a little more luck.” He checked his watch. “I’ve got to get home before Madison and try to settle everything down. She’ll lose her shit if she rolls up to find my shotgun-toting neighbor on the porch and a police cruiser in the driveway. She’s been on edge ever since she went back to work.”
Beau maneuvered onto the freeway. “Nervous about leaving Joy?”
“I think so, which is silly because if I haven’t been around to babysit, Nelle’s looked after Joy, so Madison knows she’s in good hands. But coming home to what qualifies as the crime of the century in our neighborhood will not ease her mind.”
“Call in and let Ashley know the situation. She’ll make sure you’re good to go as soon as we get back to the station.”
She would. Yes, she pained his ass ninety-nine percent of the time, but the other one percent, she stepped the hell up. Greasing those skids only took a moment, and Ashley basically offered to have his car out front idling for him. He considered calling Madison just to give her a heads-up, but unless she was on a break, the call would go to voicemail, and he didn’t want to leave her a message saying, “Everything’s cool, but we had a break-in at the house.” Better to just get on home, deal with the police, and clean up any mess their visitor left before she showed. Then she could see for herself everything was fine.
Fine wasn’t the word that jumped to mind a half hour later when he pulled up to the curb in front of his house. A police car sat in the driveway, lights flashing, and a small crowd of neighbors stood around, chatting with the two officers waiting at his front door. At least Walt had put the gun away.
As he got out of his car, Nelle stepped onto her porch with Joy tucked in her arms and gave him a wave. She pantomimed holding a baby bottle, and then pointed at her door. He nodded and gave her an OK sign. Then he turned to his house.
Neighbors parted like the Red Sea as he approached. He clapped Walt on the shoulder and then introduced himself to Officers Stern and Langley. Some cops reacted well to the uniform and saw EMTs as an integral part of the emergency services brotherhood. Some didn’t. It was too early to tell where Stern and Langley fell on the spectrum, but he led with courtesy. Stern, a tall, skinny white guy with heavy brows that helped him live up to his name, asked him if he was the homeowner. To simplify things, he said yes and produced his key. “Y’all want to come in?”
“No rush,” Langley said. “When we arrived, Mr. Emerson here”—the young, dark-skinned officer gestured to Walt—“indicated the intruder fled through the back door. We inspected the door, found it unlocked, and entered to conduct a search and ensure no other intruders remained in the home.”
“All clear, I take it?”
“All clear,” Langley confirmed. “By the looks of things, I’d say Mr. Emerson interrupted your would-be thief before he or she had a chance to lift anything. Why don’t you follow us around to your garage? We’ll show you how the intruder gained access, and then we’ll go inside and you can tell us if anything’s missing.”
He stepped back and held out an arm. “Lead the way.”
The process took about thirty minutes, and gifted him with the enlightening opportunity to view his home through cop’s eyes. Little details he’d become accustomed to, and didn’t really notice anymore, suddenly took on new prominence. Joy’s clean bottles air-dried in a rack by the kitchen sink, along with a couple pacifiers. Her swing occupied a place of honor by the sofa in the living room. The baby lounger and big stuffed bear took up most of the real estate on the guestroom daybed, and more baby supplies covered his desk.
How are you supposed to get any work done there? You’ve got a nursery, not an office, and sure as hell not a study space. Don’t you think you’re going to need one, or is school just going to be really easy the second time around?
He shoved the unhelpful thought away. They had time to work out the exit strategy.
In his bedroom, the jumbo bottle of lube and a value-pack of condoms sat prominently on his nightstand, and a pair of Madison’s little red bikini underwear peeked out from under his pillow.