Right. What’s the exit strategy again?
“You have a family, Mr. Knox?” Stern asked.
“Houseguests,” he corrected, but the word left a dusty taste in his mouth. Family felt closer to the truth—and yet it wasn’t. He gave Langley Madison’s and Joy’s full names and details for the report. After the officer wrote the information, he looked up at Hunter. “Can you contact Miss Foley? We’d like her to walk through as well, and advise if anything of theirs is missing.”
He could pretty much confirm all their stuff was present and accounted for, including the envelope of cash she’d tucked into the nightstand in the guestroom. She needed to put that in the bank. He glanced at his watch. She’d be on her way home at this time, and he didn’t want to call or text because between a ten-year-old car and a five-year-old flip-phone, hands free mode was as far out of reach as hyper-drive. “I expect her any minute.”
“Great. That will make things simpler. In the meantime, we can check the garage—see if he helped himself to anything on the way into the house.”
Nothing was missing from the garage. Still, the entire exercise of inspecting the property with the officers cemented an important, and somewhat embarrassing fact. He’d become complacent in the house, and neighborhood, and slacked off on basic precautions. They hadn’t been assholes about it, but Stern and Langley had taken pains to point out the intruder hadn’t needed Mission Impossible type skills to crack his web of security.
He liked the garage window open when he worked out, and he’d broken the habit of closing and locking it afterwards. He rarely locked the door leading from the garage to the house, because who wanted to fumble for his keys while holding an armful of groceries and shit?
His sister had installed an alarm system when she’d bought the place, which had seemed like a good idea for a single woman living alone, but he never bothered using the thing unless he went on vacation. Sometimes not even then.
He might as well have left the house wide open, he silently admitted as they made their way back to the living room. The guy had simply climbed in a window, walked through an unlocked door, and into the easiest pickings ever. Had it not been for Nelle’s eagle eyes, and Walt’s vigilante tendencies, he’d be filing a claim with his insurance company this evening—or worse. Maybe he didn’t get overly worked up about protecting a flat screen TV or the laptop he’d splurged on for Christmas, but he cared about protecting Madison and Joy. He’d promised them a safe place to stay and then failed to take normal measures to make good on the promise.
The sound of tires screeching to a halt outside had him pushing past the officers to get to the front door. Clearly, she’d jumped straight to worst-
case scenarios.
“Hunter…fuck, fuck, fuck…Hunter!” The last syllable ended on the wrong side of panic.
He pulled the door open and hit the porch in time to catch her as she scrambled up the steps. She was shaking so hard she could barely stand. Wild, fear-darkened eyes contrasted starkly with her pale face. Even her lips looked white. “Madison—”
“The baby. Please. Where is she?” Her attention shifted to the officers standing behind him, and her next words came out at a skull-splitting volume.
“Where…is…my…baby?”
…
Hunter’s big hands cupped her face. She tried to focus on him even as her vision started to go gray around the edges. He said something, but she couldn’t hear over the roar of blood in her ears, the thunder of her pulse, and the desperate effort to pull air into her lungs despite a steel band strapped tight across her chest. Suddenly, her world spun, and through a long, dark tunnel she saw Nelle running across the street with Joy in her arms.
The band around her chest snapped. She drew air into her lungs so quickly she nearly staggered. A strong arm came around her waist and held her up.
“Easy,” Hunter’s voice murmured in her ear. “Easy, baby.” He brushed her hair away from her sweat-drenched face. “She’s fine. She’s right there.”
“You poor thing,” Nelle whispered as she put Joy in her arms. “I should have brought her over here as soon as Hunter got home. I didn’t think…”
Madison hugged her daughter and shook her head. “No. I’m sorry.” Her words still came in pants. “I freaked out.” She lowered her head and breathed in Joy’s sweet scent—lavender-infused baby wash. “I’m sorry.” She leaned back against Hunter—strong, solid, calm Hunter—and added, “I think I screamed your ear clean off.”
“What?”
She sagged against him. “Very funny.” But not so funny she forgot there was a police car parked in front of the house and two officers standing in the living room. “What happened?”
Hunter steered her into the living room and sat her on the sofa. “A break-in, sort of, except nothing’s broken or missing. I think some neighborhood delinquent couldn’t resist the lure of the open garage window, but Nelle saw him going for the window and called Officers Stern and Langley.”
They nodded greetings at Madison, and then he continued. “Walt from next door came over and did his Dirty Harry imitation, and by all accounts scared the living shit out of the fool.”
“I know who it was.”
Four sets of eyes landed on her. Hunter sat on the coffee table, his knees bracketing hers, so she didn’t have to look up at him. “Honey, Nelle never got a look at the person. Neither did Walt. Nobody knows who it was.”
She’d arrived home a hysterical, out-of-her-mind mess, overreacting to a minor piece of mischief. She knew that. And now, after hearing the barest summary of the situation, claimed to know who’d committed the deed. Chances were she didn’t come across as the most reliable source of information. Hugging Joy to her shoulder, she repeated her words as firmly as she could. “I know who it was.”
Office Stern lowered himself into the chair closest to the couch. “Miss Foley, correct?”
“Yes.”