slid the key into the lock, it turned without resistance. She frowned. Had her father forgotten to lock the dead bolt? A quick check of the doorknob told her it was unlocked, too.
A wave of uneasiness swept over her, and she shook it off. This wasn’t the city. This was Murphy, North Carolina, where neighbors helped one another out and it wasn’t uncommon to see a car parked in front of the Daily Grind downtown, keys still in the ignition.
She opened the door and swiped the double switch inside. Light flooded the porch and living room. When she stepped over the threshold, a sense of grief cut a wide swath through her heart. This had been her and her father’s retreat, the opportunity for them to escape the incessant demands of her mother.
Less than a week ago, she’d been sitting at the huge table in her aunt and uncle’s lodge near Asheville, enjoying turkey dinner, her parents across from her. Now they were gone. After leaving the lodge, they’d apparently taken a curve too fast and plunged down an embankment to their deaths. Driving fast wasn’t in her dad’s nature. Neither was carelessness.
But neither was moodiness. Or brooding. Or several other behaviors she’d seen over the past months. Lately, her fun-loving father had become someone else entirely.
Something had been bothering him. Now she’d never know what.
After locking the door, she lowered her carry-on and extended the handle. The wheels rumbled against the hardwood floor as she made her way to the first bedroom. It had always been hers. When her grandparents were alive, the second one had been her dad’s. He’d long since taken the master bedroom and reallocated the middle one as an office.
She laid the bag on her bed and transferred the contents to the chest of drawers. She hadn’t brought much. The purpose of the trip was to scout out the place, see how much it had deteriorated over the past twelve years and decide what to do with it.
The decision about the Atlanta place was a no-brainer. As marketing director for a large sporting goods manufacturer, she spent more hours at work than at home. Her two-bedroom condo was plenty of house for her. She’d already contacted a Realtor, and her parents’ seven-thousand-square-foot spread was going on the market next week.
This one was harder to let go. It had been in her dad’s family for three generations. Four, if she counted her own.
After shutting the last drawer, she picked up her toiletry case and headed for the bathroom. As she stepped into the hall, something moved in her peripheral vision. She snapped her gaze in that direction.
A huge man barreled toward her. Except for two eyeholes, a knit mask hid his face. He slammed into her, knocking her hard against the wall. Her head hit the doorjamb. Pain shot through her temple and stars exploded across her vision.
Another figure ran past, this one much smaller. As retreating footsteps grew softer, blackness encroached. She gripped the jamb, willing herself to remain conscious, but strength drained from her limbs. She slid to the floor, landing on her hands and knees.
The front door creaked open but didn’t slam shut. They’d left it ajar. She needed to secure the house. And she needed to call the police. The front door seemed miles away. The bedroom was just across the hall, and her purse was on the bed. If she could crawl there...
She moved her right knee forward, followed by her right hand. The darkness spread, seeping in from all sides. The walls tipped ninety degrees, and the cold floor met her right side.
She lifted one lead-filled arm, trying to grasp the last threads of consciousness.
Her hand fell.
And even that small circle of light faded and disappeared.
* * *
Bryce Caldwell flipped on the cruiser’s right signal and made his turn onto Ranger Road. As he accelerated up the steep incline, his headlights spilled over the tombstones dotting the landscape. The street cut right through Ranger United Methodist’s cemetery.
He rounded a series of curves, following Ranger as it snaked its way upward. His gaze shifted left, the same as it always did. Since night had fallen some time ago, there was nothing to see. But that didn’t stop him from looking. He’d been doing it as long as he could remember.
Many years ago, his reasons had been romantic. Now they were entirely practical. His neighbor spent most of his time in Atlanta and had asked him to keep an eye on the place.
Bryce tapped the brakes. Lights were on at the old house, and a vehicle was parked out front. There wasn’t enough light to identify the make, but it was too large to be Dennis Wheaton’s Mercedes.
He pulled into his own driveway a couple hundred yards down. As he approached his house, a black face nudged aside the vertical blinds hanging at the living room window. Cooper greeted him with a single bark. The dog would have to wait a few minutes longer. Since lights were on next door, the visitor was likely there with Wheaton’s knowledge and permission. But it would take only a few minutes to check.
He turned around and retraced his route. As he crept up the drive next door, his jaw tightened. The front door was wide-open, and no one was outside. He stopped behind the vehicle, a newer Cadillac Escalade, and stepped from the cruiser.
“Hello?”
Silence met his call. He moved past the SUV, and a chilly gust swept through, sending the leaves at his feet into a frantic dance. When he stepped onto the porch, he called again. Still silence. Who would leave the front door open and not be somewhere nearby?
“Hello?” Now he was at the doorway, half in and half out. “Anybody home?”
A moan came from the hallway. His senses shot to full alert, and he drew his weapon. When he stepped into the hall, a woman was working her way onto her hands and knees. Strawberry blond hair had fallen forward to hide her face.
He rushed toward her, still scanning the area. He wasn’t about to let down his guard.
“Are you alone?”
She lifted her head. Blue eyes met his, sending a jolt all the way to his toes. Andi. Years fell away, each one a punch to his gut. She’d left just before he started college, after he’d made the biggest mistake of his life. And she’d managed to stay away for twelve long years.
Her gaze slid from his face, down his uniform and back up again. Instead of recognition, her eyes held confusion. “Did I call? I didn’t think I...” She sat back, one leg curled beneath her, the other in front. “I tried, but...” She fell silent, shaking her head.
He knelt in front of her. “Tell me what happened.”
“Someone was inside, knocked me into the doorjamb.” She pressed a palm to her left temple. “I hit my head.”
Her assailant must have run out the front, leaving the door wide-open. Bryce slid his pistol back into its holster. “He’s probably gone, but we need to call it in.”
The furrows between her brows deepened. “Who are you?”
Bryce Caldwell. It was right on the tip of his tongue. But considering how they’d parted, he’d better save specifics for later. “I’m with Cherokee County, but I’m not on duty. I just happened to be driving by. We’ll get this reported officially. Then you need to go to the hospital and get
