short-handed here.”
Though her words kick-started his heart into overdrive, he held himself perfectly still and merely nodded.
Appropriately encouraged, she continued. “I know you have a trucking business to run and all, but would you consider coming to work for me part-time? Like a few hours a week?”
While he pretended to consider her offer, she tossed out what for him clenched the deal. “I’d really like you to handle the Emily Gilley case exclusively.”
A thousand thoughts raced through Emily’s mind. First and foremost, she had to keep her son safe.
“Don’t move,” she repeated.
“But I’m hungry,” Ryan started to whine, raising his face to hers. Something he saw in her expression must have gotten through to him, because he instantly went silent.
“What’s wrong, Mama?” he whispered, his blue eyes huge in his small face. “Is everything okay?”
No, everything was not okay—though she didn’t say that out loud to her five-year-old. “I don’t know yet,” she said instead, moving them backward. “I think we need to get back in the car and call the sheriff.”
She wouldn’t panic. She couldn’t, even though she knew if her front door was open that someone had been in her house.
Backing out of her driveway, she drove to the corner gas station and mini-mart and parked.
“Go ahead and start on your Good Times meal, honey,” she told Ryan, handing the brightly decorated box back to him. “Remember, no toy until you finish your meal.”
She waited until he was happily munching away before taking a deep breath and pulling her phone from her purse.
Keeping the doors locked and the engine running, she made the call. When she asked to be put through directly to Renee, the dispatcher immediately did so—yet another difference between living in a large city and a small town.
Speaking quietly and calmly so she wouldn’t alarm Ryan, she told Renee what had happened. “I didn’t go inside,” she said. “I have no idea if anyone is still in there.”
“That’s a wise move,” Renee said. “Where are you now?”
Emily relayed her location.
“Stay put. We’ll meet you there in less than five minutes,” the sheriff promised. “The car will be an unmarked cruiser. No lights or sirens.”
“All right.” Disconnecting the call, Emily shoved her phone back into her purse and eyed her sandwich. It now looked wilted and completely unappetizing, though probably due more to the circumstances than the actual appearance. Even the thought of trying to eat made her stomach roil.
Law enforcement pulled up just over four minutes later, the unmarked Chevrolet still looking official and police-like. It was not Renee, Emily realized, but another officer, which was unusual since the Anniversary Police Department was so small.
Squinting, Emily tried to make him out. The passenger door opened, and a familiar dark-haired, broad-shouldered man emerged. She squinted, certain she wasn’t seeing correctly. But as he approached, she realized that Mac Riordan, while not decked out in a crisply pressed navy police uniform, wore a police badge pinned to his button-down shirt.
As he walked toward her car, she was struck once again by the way he exuded masculinity. He was one of those men who, with one glance at their steely gaze, could make a woman feel safe and protected.
Foolishness, she chided herself. Nevertheless, her mouth went dry as he approached. Mac Riordan looked … different. She waited in silence until he reached her.
As if he sensed her confusion, he gave her a reassuring smile. “I’m working for the sheriff’s office part-time. Renee asked me to handle your case.”
Stunned, at first Emily didn’t know how to respond. “But—”
Interrupting, his rich voice washed over her like waves in a storm. “I can assure you I’m completely qualified. I spent ten years at the Albany Police Department, working my way up from patrol to homicide detective.”
“I’m sure you are,” she said faintly.
Relief warring with trepidation, she opened her door.
But as she started to get out of her car, Mac waved her back.
“I want you to follow me, all right? I’m going to ask you to remain in your car while I make sure your home is safe.”
Swallowing hard, Emily nodded. She had to be careful to hide any evidence of fear from her son, who watched the exchange with wide, curious eyes.
“Why are the police here, Mommy?”
Putting the car in Drive, she again checked her mirrors before pulling away. “Because I think someone might have been inside our house, honey.”
He cocked his head, apparently unable to decide how to take this news. “A bad person?” he finally asked
“Maybe.” She shrugged, as if this was not important. “We have no way of knowing. That’s why we’re letting the police check this out first.”
“Maybe it was a bear!” Giggling, Ryan made a roaring sound. “Or maybe a deer got inside like that video we watched on the computer one time.”
Thank goodness for his vivid imagination and his innocence. “Maybe,” she allowed, even though there were no bears anywhere near their part of the country, unless one counted the bears living in the Dallas Zoo. “I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”
“Can we take a video of our own, Mommy? Pleeeease?”
“We’ll see.” She gave him a reassuring smile, just in case he sensed her jangled nerves. “Let’s wait until we find out what exactly got inside, okay?”
Nodding, he resumed playing with the little plastic airplane that had come with his meal.
An eternity passed, but finally they reached her street. The police car pulled into her driveway, and Mac motioned to Emily to park in the street one house down. She did as he asked, unwilling to take any chances with her son’s safety.
Heart in her throat, she watched as Mac got out and headed toward her house. As he went around to the backyard, Emily turned around to distract Ryan, not wanting him to notice that Mac had drawn his gun.
“Let’s go ahead and eat, honey,” she urged watching as he tore into his Good Times meal.
While he ate, she alternated between keeping an eye on him and watching her house. Trying to will her heartbeat to slow down, she took a tiny bite of her grilled chicken sandwich. Chewing what tasted like ashes, she managed to choke it down and swallowed hard, setting her food aside.
Ryan had finished his burger and half his fries and was already restless. “Mommy? What is the policeman doing inside our house?” he asked, squirming in his seat. “Can we go inside yet?”
About to
