Page 56 of Game On

She suspected that last part might be true, but she wasn’t about to add to the boy’s sorrow. It was surreal how this little boy’s life could be so similar to hers. Those feelings of being lost and alone in the world still lingered despite the fact that she had her own home, her own job, and her own money. It was that sense of belonging she kept searching for. And she thought she’d found it here in Baltimore with her sister Lisa’s family and her job with the Blaze. But it still felt precarious; as if it could be ripped away from her at any moment. She wondered if that feeling would ever go away.

Shame on Shane for making this boy feel so vulnerable. She gave Troy a gentle squeeze. “He doesn’t want anybody,” she said, brushing a kiss over his hair. “He thinks he’s too cool to need anybody. He’s just a big butthead.”

Troy giggled into her shoulder.

“Hey,” she said, holding him away from her. “Our ice cream is melting. Whaddya say we eat it before the butthead shows up to take you home? He should be here any minute.”

They were both laughing when they entered the kitchen. But when Carly turned on the overhead light, she stopped dead in her tracks. The sweet smell of roses reached her nostrils at the same time her eyes took in the mess in her kitchen and living room. Mutilated flowers were strewn everywhere. It looked as if wild animals had been let loose inside. Photos were ripped from frames, their glass scattered about the floor. Pillows and cushions were slashed, pieces of stuffing still floating in the air.

She gulped for air as her breath froze in her lungs. The plastic bag holding the ice cream slipped from her numb fingertips.

“Who did this?” It took her a moment to realize that Troy was echoing her thoughts. Except Carly already knew who’d done it. Joel Thompkins.

Troy took a step farther into the house before she grabbed him tightly by the arm, pulling him behind her.

“No, Troy.” She was amazed she could find the breath to speak since her chest felt like it might explode. “Get outside.” Dragging him into the garage, she shoved him back into the car. With shaky hands, she jammed the keys into the ignition.

“Get out my cell phone,” she ordered, tossing Troy her purse. Backing out of the garage, she parked the car down the street and he handed her the phone. With trembling fingers, she dialed 911.

SEVENTEEN

Shane worked off some steam as he and Beckett jogged the last mile to Carly’s. They’d run a two-mile loop through the back of the neighborhood. He figured he’d arrive at her house just as they were getting home after their dessert of ice cream. Surely, the kid could manage to walk a mile back to his place. Hopefully it would tire him out and he’d go right to bed. Shane had had enough of listening to him gush at Carly for one evening. Not that Shane could blame the kid. Obviously he had a major crush on her.

Well, so did a couple other guys, including one psycho sports writer.

Shane had checked with guards at the gatehouse when he drove in to make sure Joel hadn’t attempted to enter the neighborhood. Both men assured him they knew to alert the police if they spotted his car. He’d texted Donovan fifteen minutes ago, but still no reply. Hopefully, the police had already picked Joel up. Just the same, even with the added security of being in a gated community, Shane would make sure her place was locked up tightly before he left.

His cell phone vibrated. Digging it out of his pocket, he recognized Donovan’s number on the caller ID. Great. They’d finally picked up Thompkins. But he never answered the call because as he rounded the corner next to Carly’s house, he spotted three police cruisers, lights flashing, parked in front.

What the hell? They were going out to eat ice cream. They weren’t supposed to be back yet. Beckett trailed behind him as he sprinted toward the house, ignoring Donovan’s call.

Shane pushed through the half-open front door, the dog following him in. The place was a mess. Police technicians were moving about dusting for fingerprints and putting things in plastic baggies. Beckett trotted over to where the kid stood talking to a man wearing a rumpled suit. The guy was jotting something in his notebook and chewing on a plastic coffee straw.

“Shane!” the kid said as Beckett planted himself firmly on the kid’s feet.

The cop in the rumpled suit looked up at Shane. His mustache was as raggedy as his clothing.

“Who are you?” he asked without removing the straw.

“He’s my brother, Shane Devlin.”

Rumpled Suit’s eyes lit up in recognition as Shane clamped his hand on the kid’s shoulder.

“What happened?” Shane asked.

“I don’t know. It was like this when we got here.” The kid’s glasses magnified his eyes, huge with what was either fear or bravado. Probably both.

“Did you see anyone in or around the house when you came in?” The cop directed his question at the kid. Shane’s gut clenched and his palms began to sweat. Whoever did this could have been here when they’d walked in. The guards at the gate either hadn’t been doing their job or Joel was a lot more determined than they’d all given him credit for. He raked his fingers through his hair and sucked in a deep breath.

“No. Carly wouldn’t let me go past the kitchen. Once she saw the mess, she took me back to her car. She drove to the corner and we stayed there until you guys came.” The kid looked from Shane to the cop. “You guys got here really fast.”

“You did the right thing,” the cop reassured him.

“Where’s Carly?” Shane asked. The kid pointed behind him, stepping out of the way as Shane reluctantly let go of his shoulder. Carly sat on the bottom step of the stairs leading to her bedroom. Another detective stood over her, gently questioning her. His suit wasn’t rumpled. In fact, he looked like he’d just stepped off the cover of Menswear magazine. He was young and fresh faced, and a dead ringer for Matt Damon. From where he stood looking down at Carly, he had a great view down her blouse, which he seemed to be taking full advantage of.

Shane crouched down between her and the cop’s shiny wing-tips.

“Hey,” he said quietly as she looked up at him. The same blue eyes that had shone with passion earlier in the day were now blank. Her lower lip was swollen and pink from where she’d been biting it. It stood out against her pale skin. Her hand trembled as she brushed her hair over her shoulder.

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