Alpha One (Shadow Agents 1) - Page 96
Husky breathing filled the line, then a scream pierced the receiver.
He clenched the steering wheel with a white-knuckled grip. He had to clear his throat to speak. “Marie?” God, tell me you’re there....
But the sudden silence sent a chill up his spine.
“Marie, Timmy?”
More breathing, this time followed by a husky laugh that sounded sinister, threatening...evil.
Dear God, no...
Dugan was at Marie’s house.
He pressed the accelerator, his heart hammering as he sped around traffic and called for backup. The dispatch officer agreed to send a patrol car right away.
A convertible nearly cut him off, and Miles slammed on his horn, nearly skimming a truck as he roared around it. Brush and shrubs sailed past, the wheels grinding on gravel as he hugged the side of the country road.
Images of the dead women from Dugan’s crime scenes flashed in his head, and his stomach churned. No, please, no...Dugan could not be at Marie’s house. He couldn’t kill Marie...not like the other women.
And Timmy...his son was home today with her.
The bright Texas sun nearly blinded him as he swerved into the small neighborhood where Marie had bought a house. Christmas decorations glittered, lights twinkled from the neighboring houses, the entryways screaming with festive holiday spirit.
Somehow they seemed macabre in the early-morning light.
He shifted gears, brakes squealing as he rounded a curve and sped down the street. He scanned the neighboring yards, the road, the trees beyond the house, searching for Dugan.
But everything seemed still. Quiet. A homey little neighborhood to raise a family in.
Except he had heard that scream.
His chest squeezed for air, and he slammed on the brakes and skidded up the drive. He threw the Jeep into Park, and held his weapon at the ready as he raced up to the front door.
Cop instincts kicked in, and he scanned the outside of the house and yard again, but nothing looked amiss. He glanced through the front window, but the den looked normal...toys on the floor, magazines on the table, TV running with cartoons.
Only the Christmas tree had been tipped over, ornaments scattered across the floor.
He reached for the doorknob, and the door swung open. His breath lodged in his throat, panic knotting his insides. No sounds of holiday music or Timmy chattering.
Gripping his weapon tighter, he inched inside, senses honed for signs of an intruder.
Slowly, he made his way through the den to the kitchen. The Advent calendar glared at him, mocking him with a reminder that Christmas was only a few days away.
There was a half-empty coffee cup on the counter and an overturned cereal bowl on the table. Milk dripped onto the floor.
Timmy...God...
Terror seized him.
A creaking sound suddenly splintered the air, and he swung around, braced to shoot but he saw nothing. Then another sound came from above, water running...the shower? No, the tub...overflowing...
He clenched his jaw, then inched toward the staircase, slowly climbing it and listening for an intruder, for Marie, for his son.
Any sign of life.
A quick glance into Timmy’s room and it appeared e
mpty. Bed unmade. Toy airplane on the floor. Legos scattered. Stuffed dinosaur on his pillow.
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