that the place was completely locked down.
But...if the person at her door had a gun, he could easily shoot out the locks. If so, wouldn’t he already have done that? It wasn’t as though she had neighbors who’d hear. She hesitated for a split second and then, instead of hitting 9-1-1, she called Dustin Blake’s number.
She wasn’t sure what she thought of him yet.
But at least he wouldn’t think she was an alarmist.
He answered on the second ring.
“There’s someone outside,” she whispered. “Sammy’s going crazy.”
“I’m on my way. Stay back from the windows. Don’t let yourself be seen. Don’t open a door until you hear my voice!”
“Okay.”
She hung up, wondering how long it would take him to get there. She stood at the top of the landing and saw the knob on the front door turn. Someone outside was obviously trying it.
Sammy’s barking escalated and he threw himself at the heavy wooden door.
The doorknob stopped moving. Barely daring to breathe, she stared down at her cell and watched painfully as time seemed to stand still. Then she dropped the phone in her pocket and hurried to the kitchen, where she shoved the knives below the counter to make them harder to find and, without turning on a light, scrabbled around until she came up with her weapon of choice.
The waffle maker. The handle was just long enough for her to get a good grip and the body was hard. It would make a great weapon for a surprise attack-and-run should she need it.
5
D ustin’s phone had rung at exactly 4:32 a.m.
It took him until 4:34 a.m. to throw on some clothes, his holster and gun, jacket and shoes and to sling his backpack over his shoulder. He was out the back door in ten seconds, in his car in another twenty and speeding down the road. Thankfully, walking distance to her place from Willis House was less than fifteen minutes at a brisk pace and driving there—even with the winding Tennessee country road—was about six minutes.
His eyes were on the house as he pulled into her driveway. But there was just one car there and no sign of anyone. Jerking to a halt, he leaped out of the car, still surveying his surroundings, and raced to the front door. He could hear the dog barking inside. “Olivia, it’s Dustin.”
The door flew open. “Sammy, it’s all good. It’s Dustin, a friend.”
She had evidently been waiting for him; she was wrapped in a long velvet robe. Her hair was mussed but she was as striking as a lingerie ad.
Her features were tense; her whole body was tense. She gripped the handle of a good-size waffle maker.
“You all right?” he asked.
She nodded. “But someone was here, Dustin. I saw the front door being tried. The knob was moving. And Sammy...well, Sammy knows when someone’s there.”
“But you’re certain no one got in.”
She shook her head. “Sammy would know.”
“Stay here. I’m going to take a look around.”
“Oh, no, no. I’m not staying alone,” she said. “Sammy and I are coming with you.”
She might be frightened, but there was determination in her eyes.
“Get the keys. If we’re both going out, we’ll lock the front,” he said.
She picked up the keys sitting on the buffet near the front door and frowned. “What’s that?” she asked, pointing at his backpack.
“Supplies,” he said.
She arched her brows.
“You’ll see.”
She followed him out. A look at the front door yielded nothing, of course. Digging into the backpack, he came out with his fingerprinting kit, quickly dusted the door and searched for prints.
“Well?” she asked him.
“Smudges.”
“What does that mean?”
“There should’ve been prints. Your prints and other prints, all on top of one another. I think someone had gloves on and made a point of smudging the surface, as well.”
Resealing the container of fingerprint powder, he searched the porch. There’d been no dust on it and no snow, and there wasn’t the faintest sign of a footprint. As he walked slowly
But...if the person at her door had a gun, he could easily shoot out the locks. If so, wouldn’t he already have done that? It wasn’t as though she had neighbors who’d hear. She hesitated for a split second and then, instead of hitting 9-1-1, she called Dustin Blake’s number.
She wasn’t sure what she thought of him yet.
But at least he wouldn’t think she was an alarmist.
He answered on the second ring.
“There’s someone outside,” she whispered. “Sammy’s going crazy.”
“I’m on my way. Stay back from the windows. Don’t let yourself be seen. Don’t open a door until you hear my voice!”
“Okay.”
She hung up, wondering how long it would take him to get there. She stood at the top of the landing and saw the knob on the front door turn. Someone outside was obviously trying it.
Sammy’s barking escalated and he threw himself at the heavy wooden door.
The doorknob stopped moving. Barely daring to breathe, she stared down at her cell and watched painfully as time seemed to stand still. Then she dropped the phone in her pocket and hurried to the kitchen, where she shoved the knives below the counter to make them harder to find and, without turning on a light, scrabbled around until she came up with her weapon of choice.
The waffle maker. The handle was just long enough for her to get a good grip and the body was hard. It would make a great weapon for a surprise attack-and-run should she need it.
5
D ustin’s phone had rung at exactly 4:32 a.m.
It took him until 4:34 a.m. to throw on some clothes, his holster and gun, jacket and shoes and to sling his backpack over his shoulder. He was out the back door in ten seconds, in his car in another twenty and speeding down the road. Thankfully, walking distance to her place from Willis House was less than fifteen minutes at a brisk pace and driving there—even with the winding Tennessee country road—was about six minutes.
His eyes were on the house as he pulled into her driveway. But there was just one car there and no sign of anyone. Jerking to a halt, he leaped out of the car, still surveying his surroundings, and raced to the front door. He could hear the dog barking inside. “Olivia, it’s Dustin.”
The door flew open. “Sammy, it’s all good. It’s Dustin, a friend.”
She had evidently been waiting for him; she was wrapped in a long velvet robe. Her hair was mussed but she was as striking as a lingerie ad.
Her features were tense; her whole body was tense. She gripped the handle of a good-size waffle maker.
“You all right?” he asked.
She nodded. “But someone was here, Dustin. I saw the front door being tried. The knob was moving. And Sammy...well, Sammy knows when someone’s there.”
“But you’re certain no one got in.”
She shook her head. “Sammy would know.”
“Stay here. I’m going to take a look around.”
“Oh, no, no. I’m not staying alone,” she said. “Sammy and I are coming with you.”
She might be frightened, but there was determination in her eyes.
“Get the keys. If we’re both going out, we’ll lock the front,” he said.
She picked up the keys sitting on the buffet near the front door and frowned. “What’s that?” she asked, pointing at his backpack.
“Supplies,” he said.
She arched her brows.
“You’ll see.”
She followed him out. A look at the front door yielded nothing, of course. Digging into the backpack, he came out with his fingerprinting kit, quickly dusted the door and searched for prints.
“Well?” she asked him.
“Smudges.”
“What does that mean?”
“There should’ve been prints. Your prints and other prints, all on top of one another. I think someone had gloves on and made a point of smudging the surface, as well.”
Resealing the container of fingerprint powder, he searched the porch. There’d been no dust on it and no snow, and there wasn’t the faintest sign of a footprint. As he walked slowly
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