When the Smoke Clears (Deadly Reunions) (30 page)

Uneasiness crawled through her. When she was in the house, the dog usually stayed nearby. And why didn’t Officer Howell respond? Of course if she were at the opposite end of the house, she wouldn’t have heard Alexia.

The air conditioner clicked on and began to hum. The blast of cold air from the vent at her feet made her shiver. Turning from the window, she eyed the bed, wanting nothing more than to slip back between the covers.

But something felt wrong. Yoda’s absence bothered her more than she wanted to admit. And Officer Howell hadn’t shown herself.

She leaned toward the phone. “Hunter?” she whispered. “Are you there?”

No answer. But the phone was still connected. Maybe he had walked out of the room for a minute. She picked up her phone—the battery was almost dead. She laid it back down and quickly plugged it into her charger, annoyed that she’d forgotten to do it earlier. She tugged a pair of sweatpants over her pajama shorts and padded barefoot from the bedroom into the hall. The nightlight spread enough light that she could see clearly. She looked left, then right.

Nothing.

When the alarm sounded for that brief second, the dog entered the kitchen and came over to investigate. The killer held out a hand. The doggie treats disappeared immediately.

“Good boy. Have a nice nap.”

Hurried footsteps sounded from the hall.

The killer’s blood surged, excitement pounded. The anxiety was gone now, but anticipation made for slick palms and a fast heartbeat.

“Alexia?” The one word whisper echoed in the foyer. The cop. Being cautious. Not sure who was lurking in the kitchen.

“I’m in here,” the killer whispered.

“Oh,” the officer said in a normal voice. “It’s pitch black in here. Let me find a light.” Rustling sounded. The officer was running her hand along the wall, looking for the switch. “I thought I heard the alarm—”

The wire passed over the cop’s head and landed underneath her jaw, tightening immediately.

After a brief, silent struggle, the officer surrendered and went slack.

“Now, Alexia. Your turn.”

Her stomach jumped and twisted.

Alexia thought about her cell phone on the bedside table. She should have brought it with her anyway. Assuming Hunter was still on the other end. Somehow she knew he was. However, if someone was in the house with a gun, Hunter wouldn’t be much help. And she might need both hands.

Alexia continued down the hall and into the den. Shadows danced, caused by the nightlights and the moon shining through the window blinds.

And still no sign of Yoda or Officer Howell.

Nerves humming, shoulders tensed, Alexia made her way to the kitchen where she found Chewie under the table. Now she felt the first stirrings of real fear. At night, Chewie liked the recliner in the den. And Officer Howell wasn’t responding. Her eyes fell to the counter where Serena’s phone should have been. The handset was missing from its cradle.

Her breath caught in her lungs. Something was definitely wrong.

As she hurried from the kitchen into the foyer, the green light on the alarm pad caught her eye.

Green? It should be red. Meaning it was armed. She’d punched in the numbers before she’d walked to her room.

And now it was green. Meaning it was unarmed.

Full-blown panic exploded within her. She raced for the front door, her one thought to open it and get out of the house.

“Hello, Alexia.”

Her fingers froze on the doorknob.

Slowly, she turned. And came face-to-face with her black masked intruder.

Her breath stopped, terror seized her.
Think. You have to think.

But all she could process was that she was trapped. There was no way she’d be able to get a door open fast enough. Her only hope was the cell phone in the bedroom.

“Where’s . . . Yoda?” she blurted. She almost asked about Officer Howell and stopped herself at the last minute. What if the woman was hiding somewhere, waiting for a chance to disarm the intruder? Over the pounding of her heart, the rushing of her blood, she strained to hear, to really listen to the voice.

A low laugh came from the black form. “The dog? You’re worried about the dog? Don’t worry, the mutt’s just sleeping. I don’t kill animals.”

But killing her wouldn’t be a problem. She got the unspoken message. Her eyes darted. Where was the officer?

“What do you want? Why are you doing this?” she whispered.

“Where’s Jillian?”

“Why do you want to know where Jillian is?” Alexia inched away from the door.

The knife in the intruder’s right hand lifted. “Where is she?”

Unable to think of anything else that she could say that would save her, Alexia turned and darted down the hall, her goal the bedroom where she prayed Hunter was still on the line.

Light footsteps followed behind her, the unhurried pace mocking her, chilling her with the knowledge that her attacker was very confident in how this night would end.

Silence came from the phone. Was she asleep or just lying there thinking?

“Lex?” he whispered.

No answer.

Asleep. He smiled and started to hang up. Then hesitated. If she woke up, she might want to know he was still there. With a shrug, he set the cell phone on the end table and turned back to finish writing out the plan he and Katie had come up with. He still didn’t like it, but it would definitely be effective.

After using his home phone for three more calls to line everything up, he decided to call it a night.

A resounding crash came from his cell phone still on speaker. A muffled scream froze him even as his adrenaline spiked.

Alexia!

“Hunter! Help me!”

34

Friday, 10:58 p.m.

She had nowhere else to run. Her attacker had easily kicked the bedroom door in and made a beeline toward her. Alexia picked up the bedside lamp and swung it.

She missed.

Trapped. She was trapped. “Stop! Leave me alone!”

Fear beat a steady rhythm within her as did a rage that began to consume her.

The masked person lunged, grabbed at her as Alexia did her best to dodge the outstretched hand.

The hand that snagged a chunk of hair.

White pain streaked through her as she froze. “Please,” she whispered.

A sickly sweet aroma wafted toward her and she turned her head from it. The knife flashed in front of her face, but it wasn’t aimed to cut her. Instead, it was held behind a cloth.

The cloth that she instinctively knew was supposed to drug her.

Terror shot through her as it closed in and slapped over her mouth and nose. She held her breath and jerked. But he was stronger than she was—and she was in good shape, strong enough to pass the rigorous training of a firefighter.

She needed air.

Another twist pulled her face free. The knife clattered to the floor. The cloth slipped away long enough for Alexia to draw breath.

And then she heard his voice. “Lex! Are you there? What’s going on? I’m on my way!”

The fingers gripped her hair, yanking. The pain seared through her.

Lashing out, she avoided the cloth once more even as panic made her breath come in quick pants.

Where was her help? Where was the detective watching her house?

Her attacker moved once more, strong fingers never slacking. Alexia felt herself weakening. She wanted to cry out. Instead, she kicked, squirmed, resisted, and fought with everything in her.

Until something slammed into her stomach, paralyzing her for a few seconds as her lungs emptied.

The cloth slapped back over her face, she breathed in once, twice, and knew no more.

Hunter snatched up his landline and called Jimmy, worry for Alexia eating at his gut.

No answer.

He grabbed his car keys and punched in dispatch’s number. He rattled off the address, gave her the short version of what was happening, and listened to the struggle going on over his cell phone.

“Leave her alone!” he yelled into the device. He knew his order would do no good. A fact that was confirmed when a light chuckle rang out. It sounded distant. The person must be standing on the other side of the room from Alexia’s phone.

In the car and heading down the road, he prayed.

The cell phone sat in the cup holder in front of him, mocking him with its sudden silence.

Ten seconds later, heavy breathing filtered to him. A grunt.

“Who are you?” Hunter growled. “I’ve called for backup and I’m on my way to find you.” He kept his words low, controlled, not expecting an answer, but hoping the person had stopped to listen.

Where were Jimmy and Marty? Why hadn’t either answered their phone?

“Then I’ll just have to move a little faster, won’t I?” The hissing voice startled him and he almost froze.

Then he gunned the car. “Hang on, Lex, I’m coming!”

The next six minutes were the longest in his life. Finally, he rolled up to the curb to see that red and blue lights had taken over the neighborhood.

At the sight of the ambulance, his stomach dropped.

At the sight of the draped body on the gurney, he nearly lost his dinner.

“Lex!” He bolted from his car.

And skidded to a stop.

Chad hovered over Alexia as the paramedics worked on her.

Jerking from his stunned lethargy, Hunter raced to her and dropped to his knees. “What’s wrong with her?” he demanded. Then fixed his gaze on his brother. “What did you do to her?”

Chad recoiled. “What?”

“Every time something bad happens, you’re there.”

His brother flinched, then drew back. Hunter told himself to shut up, but in his mind, he could clearly see his notes—as though he had them in front of him.

Chad shows up.

Not now, he told himself. Later. “Where’s Jimmy?”

“He’s dead. So’s Marty.” Chad’s voice was tight, angry. But controlled. “Both Jimmy and Marty were strangled. The person was watching and ready to strike when the opportunity presented itself. Probably came in from the woods behind the house.”

“Marty was supposed to be watching those woods.” Hunter wondered if Jimmy and Marty had died before or after Chad arrived on the scene, then shuddered at the thought. No, it was a coincidence. Chad wouldn’t . . .