THE RENEGADE RANCHER by Angi Morgan

chest in the bottom of the pantry and she dumped ice inside for the milk and orange juice along with the six-pack of beer and bottle of wine that had sat in the back of the fridge since Jeremy’s death. The freezer door shut and she was eye to eye with a picture of her and her cousin. She jerked it from under the magnet and shoved it in her bra.
    Brian lifted the cooler and guided her to the car.
    “Wait! There’s bottled water still here from Jeremy’s funeral. It’s behind the door.”
    “I’ll get it.”
    Lindsey buckled up and looked at the picture of her cousin. The weight of the water being added to the trunk shifted the car a little, but all she could do was stare at Jeremy’s image. Now what?
    “One more thing.” Brian sat in the driver’s seat. “Take the battery out of your phone and put it in the glove box.”
    She did as he asked. “How are we supposed to run from a man capable of the butchery inside the house?”
    “First thing we’re going to do is head to my place and get some sleep.”
    “Sleep? There’s no way. How can we go back to the ranch?”
    “I share an apartment in Fort Worth with several of the other paramedics. They switched us to twelve hours on and twelve off, so my partner, me and four others from the firehouse went in on a place to sleep—and only sleep. It’s cheap and my name’s not on the lease. My partner’s taking the day off since I’m on mandatory leave and it’s the beginning of the others’ shifts. We’ll have the place to ourselves.”
    “You’ve got this all figured out, then.”
    “Hardly.”
    “Wait!” She stopped his hand before turning the ignition. “Jeremy had a fire safe for important papers in his bedroom.”
    “Stay put and I’ll get it.”
    Lindsey tried to wait once Brian was back inside the house. She hadn’t told him the safe was on the shelf and hadn’t given him the combination.
    He could find it. She could handle five minutes by herself.
    Five minutes crept by. Then six. She entered the kitchen, expecting him to laugh at her silliness.
    The house was empty. Still...it felt as if the walls were shaking. Impossible. It must be her insides.
    Brian had been right. Now that she knew about the panic attacks, she could recognize the signs and try to prevent them. She peeked around the door. A creepy feeling hit her, like watching a scary movie where you knew someone was about to die. Creepier still...the shaking couldn’t be her imagination. Impossible. It must be her insides. She took a deep, deep breath and let it out slowly.
    No shaking. No panic.
    Entering the hallway, she ran her fingers along the wall to guide her. Something hit the other side...in her bedroom. “Brian?”
    “Lindsey! Run!”

Chapter Eleven
    The body slams, crashes and sounds of a fight grew louder as Lindsey ran straight to Brian’s voice. The dresser overturned, the mirror smashed in front of her at the door. She flipped the lights on. Glass and small objects had been knocked from the dresser and mixed with the blood on the bed.
    Worrying about the dead woman’s body struck her as a bit bizarre. She watched a man dressed in a black jumpsuit wait for Brian’s attack near the closet. Brian swung, connected with the man’s ribs, spinning him sideways. But the man in black countered by slamming the back of Brian’s thigh, forcing his knee to the carpet.
    Then the man in black lifted something shiny from the floor.
    “He has a knife!”
    “Get out of here, Lindsey!” Brian shouted between defensive grunts. “Now!”
    Trying to help Brian didn’t make a lot of sense. She should run, but couldn’t. If no one heard the woman scream, they wouldn’t hear her either. He needed professional help—the police. Her phone was in the car. Frightened for them both, she released her grip on the door frame and turned. The bedsprings creaked and time slowed.
    It was as though each second was recorded in her mind with an exclamation point. The creak made her look behind