thanked Peggy Sue—his dispatch officer and dedicated babysitter—shoved his gun into his holster, threw on a jacket and raced down the hall. Stepping quietly into his son’s room, he reassured himself that Dylan was safely tucked in bed and left the door cracked on his way out.
Peggy Sue was climbing the steps to the front porch as he opened the door.
“Isn’t that the address for the church’s new choir director?” It was a small town, and as sheriff, he made it his business to keep tabs on everything going on.
“Yes, sir. I can’t imagine anyone breaking into a choir director’s home. It’s blasphemous, is what I think.”
Noah ignored the small talk. “Is Cooper on his way?”
“Yep, I called Coop first. Y’all should arrive there about the same time.”
Before hopping into his car, he glanced back at Peggy Sue, an older woman who had taken him and Dylan under her wing when they moved to town.
She grinned. “Don’t worry. I’ll hold down the fort.”
Noah gave a curt nod and ducked his head as he folded his long frame into the squad car. He estimated he’d arrive at the scene within five minutes. Grove Street was located on the outskirts of town, where quite a few older homes had been built during the town’s more prosperous days.
His jaw clenched when he turned a street corner. Coop had flipped on his siren, and red and blue lights were streaming through the neighborhood. Nothing like alerting the perpetrator to our presence. Taking a deep breath for patience, he exited his patrol car just as his young, energetic deputy flung his car door open and presented himself as a target.
Noah motioned Cooper to the back of his squad car and reminded himself that his deputy was new at the job. The eagerness shining out of Cooper’s eyes reminded Noah of himself many years ago, before disillusionment set in.
Before he had a chance to put his plans into motion, a woman came careening down the front porch steps. He gauged her to be about five foot three, a little over a hundred pounds with long, soft-looking blond hair. Her eyes were rounded and her mouth formed a grim line. Dressed in pajamas decorated with big pink hearts, she yelled while pointing toward the side of the house.
“He fled through the kitchen door when he heard your sirens. You’ll have to hurry if you want to catch him.” Her breath came out in short gasps.
Noah nodded at his deputy. “Go ahead, Coop.”
“Yes, sir.” Coop gave a crisp salute.
He doubted the perpetrator was still in the area—the only reason Noah allowed Cooper to go after him. Keeping a close eye on the dog that had accompanied the woman outside—and the pistol that looked much too comfortable in her hand for his peace of mind—Noah made a closer assessment of the woman shivering in front of him. He estimated her to be in her midtwenties and her eyes were dark brown. Peering deep into those eyes, he recognized courage overlapping the fear.
He shook off those fanciful thoughts. Though he’d heard the church had hired a new choir director, they’d never met. “Sheriff Galloway, ma’am. Maybe we should take this inside. The perpetrator has likely fled, but we don’t know that for sure.”
She glanced around, as if coming out of shock. The neighbors’ lights had started blinking on and he knew people would soon be in the street demanding to know what was happening.
“Where are my manners? Yes. Please come in.”
Thinking she might be a little shaky from the ordeal, Noah placed his hand on her elbow but immediately released her when the dog gave a low warning growl. The animal’s posture and demeanor indicated intensive training. This wasn’t just a pet. The animal looked like a Belgian Malinois, a dog widely used by both the military and police. It sported a short, light brown coat and black covered its face. And why does a church choir director need a trained attack dog?
“Control your dog, ma’am, and please hand me the pistol.”
She blushed and he couldn’t help but notice that the pink in her cheeks matched the hearts on her pajamas.
“I’m so sorry. Bates is a little protective,” she said, but after a moment she straightened her shoulders and looked him in the eye with a glint of determination. “No, I’m not sorry. My dog did his job tonight. He protected me.”
His second impression of the woman reminded him of a soft Southern belle with some feistiness thrown in. Interesting combination. Noah glanced between the woman and the animal. “I take it he’s trained. Give him the release command and he’ll back off.”
The petite woman faced her dog. “Time to be nice, Bates, baby. Sheriff Galloway is a friend.”
His incredulity at her choice of command must have shown on his face when she turned around. Hands propped on her tiny waist, she lifted her chin a notch. “What?”
He swallowed an appalled retort. “Nothing.” He would have used a more common “off” or “back” command, but that was her business.
He glanced at the front door. “We should go inside. Let me make sure the house is clear.”
She dutifully handed him her weapon. “I have a concealed-carry permit.” She sounded as if she was just waiting for him to ask to see it. When he stayed silent, she gave him a sweet, tentative smile, and his protective instincts flared to life.
“And there’s no need to check the house. Bates would alert me if even a mouse dared to invade his territory.”
“That may be true, but I still need to check the point of entry.”
The dog had disappeared, but met them when they stepped into the house and moved to the kitchen through which she claimed the assailant had fled. Based on the broken glass pane, it was obvious how the intruder had entered the premises. The ground outside was dry and there were only slight impressions of shoes on the grass. Not enough for a print.
“That windowpane will have to be replaced and you need a dead bolt on this door.”
“I’ll take care of it tomorrow.”
The window would be repaired before he left, but for the moment, he nodded and she led the way to the living room. Outside, the house reflected a Victorian style, and this room was decorated in the same theme. Shelves filled with picture frames lined one wall. They contained photos of children of all ages. A beautiful black, antique-looking baby grand piano was showcased in the room.
As she sat down on a love seat, she smiled and stared, a fond look on her face, at the photographs. “Those are past and present students. I teach piano lessons in my spare time. I’m also the choir director at the local—the only—church in Blessing.”
He sat on the couch across from her and stifled his protective urges. He knew nothing about this woman. She had moved to Blessing eight months ago, but he hadn’t been to church since his wife died two years earlier.
“Ma’am, describe the break-in. Anything you can remember.” She looked so innocent sitting there, her feet tucked under her and her shoulder-length hair slightly mussed. But he knew looks could be deceiving. He’d learned that during his five-year tenure with the FBI before
