shifted left, then right. More obscenities. Glass from the shattered back window covered the brown carpet. He heard the officer behind him. A thump sounded to his right.
Adrenaline shot through his veins. He swung around, finger on the trigger of his pistol. Elvis! His breath caught. The feline crouched down, gold eyes bright, tail twitching. Jake remembered in the nick of time and ducked. Elvis flew into the air.
Gun clutched firm, Jake motioned the officer behind him to move into the kitchen. He himself followed the cat down the hall.
He passed the bathroom, where Elvis had disappeared. He passed the computer room. More obscenities plastered the hallway walls. The smell of spray paint filled his nose. Scowling, he poised his foot to nudge open the bedroom door, when he heard a sound. It wasn’t a thump. It was an aerosol hiss. He pushed back against the hall wall, listened to get an idea of the location of the intruder, then barged inside.
C HAPTER E IGHT
Macy sat tapping her sandals against the car floorboard. She closed her eyes and in her mind saw her front door blazing with the message dead bitch. It looked like blood. Had Tanks broken into her house and hurt Elvis? Fear backed with fury knotted her stomach. What kind of a person would hurt a helpless animal? The kind who would cut people’s heads off, of course. The man who wanted to hurt Billy…whom Billy had run off with? None of this made sense.
Not a fan of being ordered to stay put—damn that Baldwin—she clutched her hands in her lap and gazed at the uniformed officer who stood outside the car. His gun held high, his gaze flickered from the house to her. Macy looked away.
That’s when she saw it—the ten-speed bike parked on the other side of the porch.
“Nan!” Macy bolted out of the car. The armed officer followed inches behind.
Jake’s finger tapped the trigger of his gun, but stopped the moment he saw his elderly suspect. The woman swung around, paint still spewing, and sprayed him across the chest.
“Police,” he said.
The old woman stared at him.
Her thick gray hair held in a ponytail, she wore an orange T-shirt that read biker chic. Jake looked at the wall where the half the F of FUCK was sprayed over. He didn’t lower his gun. She didn’t lower the paint can. But at least she’d stopped spraying him.
Jake had been in a several standoffs, but never like this. “What are you doing?”
“I don’t want my granddaughter to see this.”
“Granddaughter?” He lowered his gun and stared at the red stripe across his chest.
“Nan!” Macy’s scream filled the house.
“In here,” the woman answered. “Don’t read the walls.”
Macy, handcuffs dangling from one wrist, flew past Jake and wrapped her arms around the old woman. “I thought…”
The officer from the kitchen ran into the bedroom. “I nearly shot her!” he said.
“I’m still considering shooting her,” remarked the officer he’d left at the car. The young man’s pained expression and fisted hand on his upper thigh told the rest of the story. She really had to watch where she threw her knee.
Not that Jake doubted that she’d been aiming for any place but where the knee had landed.
An hour later, Macy sat on her sofa with Nan. “Don’t tell Mom about this,” Macy said. She snatched a pillow and hugged it. “Where is she?”
Nan frowned. “She wanted to stay home and cry today, but I talked her into going to the hospital. She can cry there just as good as she can cry at home.” When Macy slumped against the sofa, Nan patted her leg. “Your mom’s gonna be fine. She just needs to cry it out.”
“Duh? She’s been crying for over a decade.”
“Yeah. I figure she should be stopping any day now.”
Pillow still hugged close, Macy watched the cops skitter around like roaches. They were everywhere, different cops in different uniforms, and some in plain clothes. Every few minutes, one of the roaches—the one with a red stripe across his
Adrenaline shot through his veins. He swung around, finger on the trigger of his pistol. Elvis! His breath caught. The feline crouched down, gold eyes bright, tail twitching. Jake remembered in the nick of time and ducked. Elvis flew into the air.
Gun clutched firm, Jake motioned the officer behind him to move into the kitchen. He himself followed the cat down the hall.
He passed the bathroom, where Elvis had disappeared. He passed the computer room. More obscenities plastered the hallway walls. The smell of spray paint filled his nose. Scowling, he poised his foot to nudge open the bedroom door, when he heard a sound. It wasn’t a thump. It was an aerosol hiss. He pushed back against the hall wall, listened to get an idea of the location of the intruder, then barged inside.
C HAPTER E IGHT
Macy sat tapping her sandals against the car floorboard. She closed her eyes and in her mind saw her front door blazing with the message dead bitch. It looked like blood. Had Tanks broken into her house and hurt Elvis? Fear backed with fury knotted her stomach. What kind of a person would hurt a helpless animal? The kind who would cut people’s heads off, of course. The man who wanted to hurt Billy…whom Billy had run off with? None of this made sense.
Not a fan of being ordered to stay put—damn that Baldwin—she clutched her hands in her lap and gazed at the uniformed officer who stood outside the car. His gun held high, his gaze flickered from the house to her. Macy looked away.
That’s when she saw it—the ten-speed bike parked on the other side of the porch.
“Nan!” Macy bolted out of the car. The armed officer followed inches behind.
Jake’s finger tapped the trigger of his gun, but stopped the moment he saw his elderly suspect. The woman swung around, paint still spewing, and sprayed him across the chest.
“Police,” he said.
The old woman stared at him.
Her thick gray hair held in a ponytail, she wore an orange T-shirt that read biker chic. Jake looked at the wall where the half the F of FUCK was sprayed over. He didn’t lower his gun. She didn’t lower the paint can. But at least she’d stopped spraying him.
Jake had been in a several standoffs, but never like this. “What are you doing?”
“I don’t want my granddaughter to see this.”
“Granddaughter?” He lowered his gun and stared at the red stripe across his chest.
“Nan!” Macy’s scream filled the house.
“In here,” the woman answered. “Don’t read the walls.”
Macy, handcuffs dangling from one wrist, flew past Jake and wrapped her arms around the old woman. “I thought…”
The officer from the kitchen ran into the bedroom. “I nearly shot her!” he said.
“I’m still considering shooting her,” remarked the officer he’d left at the car. The young man’s pained expression and fisted hand on his upper thigh told the rest of the story. She really had to watch where she threw her knee.
Not that Jake doubted that she’d been aiming for any place but where the knee had landed.
An hour later, Macy sat on her sofa with Nan. “Don’t tell Mom about this,” Macy said. She snatched a pillow and hugged it. “Where is she?”
Nan frowned. “She wanted to stay home and cry today, but I talked her into going to the hospital. She can cry there just as good as she can cry at home.” When Macy slumped against the sofa, Nan patted her leg. “Your mom’s gonna be fine. She just needs to cry it out.”
“Duh? She’s been crying for over a decade.”
“Yeah. I figure she should be stopping any day now.”
Pillow still hugged close, Macy watched the cops skitter around like roaches. They were everywhere, different cops in different uniforms, and some in plain clothes. Every few minutes, one of the roaches—the one with a red stripe across his
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