emotion out of it.
“They’ll probably be here sometime today,” Hunter said.
Again his presence comforted her. And she was glad he didn’t try to dissuade her from continuing. The memories threatened to overwhelm her, but she shoved them back with effort, refusing to let them in.
She studied the area, then moved on to the door. “He came in here.”
“Yes, it looks like it.” Hunter studied the lock. “Probably wasn’t any trouble to either pick the lock or just jimmy it.”
“Or she left it open.”
“Or that.”
“Or Devin let his attacker in because he knew him.”
Hunter shot her a look, admiration glinting in his gorgeous eyes. “Or that.”
A bolt of warmth shot through her and she realized how much she cared about what he thought about her. Clearing her throat, she made a mental note to be on guard. His father hated her and thought her guilty of arson. Whose side would Hunter take if it came down to making a choice between the two of them?
A no-brainer in her book. And by even thinking along those lines, she was jumping way ahead of things.
Or was she? After all, he’d just confessed to wanting to ask her out in high school.
She jerked her gaze from him and walked into the room Devin had used for the past several weeks.
“He was a neat person. Everything looks organized,” she observed.
“Looks like he’d been living here for a while.” Hunter looked around. “No boxes sitting around to be emptied.”
Alexia walked to the nightstand and opened the drawer. “I feel weird doing this.”
“CSU has been all over this place. What do you think you’re going to find that they missed?”
Alexia shrugged. “Nothing probably. I just wanted to see . . . I don’t know. If he was the same person I remembered.”
“Probably not. It’s been ten years. Are you the same person?”
“Goodness, no.” She gave a little laugh and pulled out a picture. “Look. It’s him and Marcie . . . Marcie Freeman.” Hunter joined her to look over her shoulder, and she drew in a deep breath. “I like your cologne.”
His eyes dropped to hers. A little smile curved his lips. “Thanks.”
Alexia felt mortification sweep over her. As well as a flush like she’d never experienced before. She really needed to get control of her tongue.
Settling her eyes on the picture, she frantically searched for a way out of the awkward spot she’d just landed in.
A thump sounded overhead and Alexia froze, shot a look back at Hunter, and narrowed her eyes.
“Are you expecting someone?” he whispered.
She shook her head.
Before she could blink, he had his weapon in his hand and was headed up the steps.
Jaw set, determined to do her part to figure out what was going on, she hurried after him. Keeping her steps light and soundless, she grabbed his arm and pointed to the fourth step from the top. “Step over,” she mouthed.
He did. The door leading into the kitchen remained as they’d left it. Cracked. Feet planted on the second step from the top, his body edged sideways as much as possible, he swept the weapon in front of him. With a glance back at her, he motioned for her to mimic his pose—back flat against the wall.
No doubt, so if anyone shot into the basement, they would be out of the most obvious line of fire.
Fear reared its head, but she swallowed and complied. Alexia decided she much preferred the visible enemy of a good fire to murder, personal attacks, and home invasions.
Hunter eased the door open with his elbow.
17
Wednesday, 8:56 a.m.
When no bullets came tearing in their direction, Alexia allowed herself to breathe a little easier, although her nerves still hummed. Hunter eased his way into the kitchen. She stayed right behind him, eyes darting, probing, looking for anything that could be considered a threat.
Nothing.
Another noise from the direction of the den. So faint she wondered if she’d imagined it. Alexia swiveled her gaze from the kitchen to the opening that led
“They’ll probably be here sometime today,” Hunter said.
Again his presence comforted her. And she was glad he didn’t try to dissuade her from continuing. The memories threatened to overwhelm her, but she shoved them back with effort, refusing to let them in.
She studied the area, then moved on to the door. “He came in here.”
“Yes, it looks like it.” Hunter studied the lock. “Probably wasn’t any trouble to either pick the lock or just jimmy it.”
“Or she left it open.”
“Or that.”
“Or Devin let his attacker in because he knew him.”
Hunter shot her a look, admiration glinting in his gorgeous eyes. “Or that.”
A bolt of warmth shot through her and she realized how much she cared about what he thought about her. Clearing her throat, she made a mental note to be on guard. His father hated her and thought her guilty of arson. Whose side would Hunter take if it came down to making a choice between the two of them?
A no-brainer in her book. And by even thinking along those lines, she was jumping way ahead of things.
Or was she? After all, he’d just confessed to wanting to ask her out in high school.
She jerked her gaze from him and walked into the room Devin had used for the past several weeks.
“He was a neat person. Everything looks organized,” she observed.
“Looks like he’d been living here for a while.” Hunter looked around. “No boxes sitting around to be emptied.”
Alexia walked to the nightstand and opened the drawer. “I feel weird doing this.”
“CSU has been all over this place. What do you think you’re going to find that they missed?”
Alexia shrugged. “Nothing probably. I just wanted to see . . . I don’t know. If he was the same person I remembered.”
“Probably not. It’s been ten years. Are you the same person?”
“Goodness, no.” She gave a little laugh and pulled out a picture. “Look. It’s him and Marcie . . . Marcie Freeman.” Hunter joined her to look over her shoulder, and she drew in a deep breath. “I like your cologne.”
His eyes dropped to hers. A little smile curved his lips. “Thanks.”
Alexia felt mortification sweep over her. As well as a flush like she’d never experienced before. She really needed to get control of her tongue.
Settling her eyes on the picture, she frantically searched for a way out of the awkward spot she’d just landed in.
A thump sounded overhead and Alexia froze, shot a look back at Hunter, and narrowed her eyes.
“Are you expecting someone?” he whispered.
She shook her head.
Before she could blink, he had his weapon in his hand and was headed up the steps.
Jaw set, determined to do her part to figure out what was going on, she hurried after him. Keeping her steps light and soundless, she grabbed his arm and pointed to the fourth step from the top. “Step over,” she mouthed.
He did. The door leading into the kitchen remained as they’d left it. Cracked. Feet planted on the second step from the top, his body edged sideways as much as possible, he swept the weapon in front of him. With a glance back at her, he motioned for her to mimic his pose—back flat against the wall.
No doubt, so if anyone shot into the basement, they would be out of the most obvious line of fire.
Fear reared its head, but she swallowed and complied. Alexia decided she much preferred the visible enemy of a good fire to murder, personal attacks, and home invasions.
Hunter eased the door open with his elbow.
17
Wednesday, 8:56 a.m.
When no bullets came tearing in their direction, Alexia allowed herself to breathe a little easier, although her nerves still hummed. Hunter eased his way into the kitchen. She stayed right behind him, eyes darting, probing, looking for anything that could be considered a threat.
Nothing.
Another noise from the direction of the den. So faint she wondered if she’d imagined it. Alexia swiveled her gaze from the kitchen to the opening that led
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