Page 3 of The Sheriff's Baby

“And you think...what...that your father’s killer saw the comment and believed that maybe he or she wanted to stop you from digging?” he asked. He still didn’t sigh. Nor did he dismiss it. “I saw the article. Saw the comment you posted.”

Joelle figured she shouldn’t have been surprised. Duncan felt guilty about her father’s murder, too, and he was a cop just as she was. This was a crime they both wanted solved, and that meant digging through any and all possible leads.

“It’s been five months,” Duncan went on a moment later. “If the killer had planned on coming after one of us, you’d think that would have happened before now.” He paused. “But the car was stolen, and the driver is nowhere in sight. So, I’m not writing anything off right now.”

Good. Joelle had wanted him to take this seriously because she certainly was.

“We can work this a couple of ways,” Duncan explained a moment later. “We can wait for the driver to show himself, or I can go ahead and call in every available deputy. We can flood the grounds with headlights and maybe spook the person enough for him or her to come out.”

Joelle knew that no one in law enforcement wanted to be woken up at this hour, but her fellow cops, including the reserve deputies, would gladly come if they thought it meant catching her father’s killer. Every member of the Saddle Ridge Sheriff’s Office wanted justice for their former boss.

“Bring in the deputies,” she advised. She glanced down at her gown again. “I’ll hurry and change and then will keep watch at the front of the house.”

Duncan made a sound of agreement, and while she hurried to her bedroom, she heard him call dispatch who in turn would contact the deputies. Since a few of them lived only a mile or so away, it shouldn’t take long for them to start arriving.

Joelle wanted to believe that the extra help would mean a killer could be captured tonight. A capture that’d take place when she had plenty of backup so as to lessen the risk to her unborn child. But she had to stay grounded since this might not even be related to her father’s death or her mother’s disappearance.

Moving as fast as she could, Joelle pulled on a pair of maternity jeans, a loose top and her boots, and she hurried back into the living room. However, she came to a quick stop when she caught a whiff of something.

“Smoke,” she heard Duncan say from the kitchen.

This time, the adrenaline came as a hard slam. Because Duncan was right. There was the faint scent of smoke in the air.

Duncan came barreling out of the kitchen and toward the front. “I don’t see any signs of a fire in the back,” he relayed to her as they both hurried to the living room window.

Joelle’s heart was thudding now, and the fear came. A fire could be a ploy to get them out of the house. Or rather to getherout of the house. So she could be gunned down. But she didn’t see flames anywhere.

“The scent’s coming from here,” Duncan muttered, glancing at the east wall of the living room.

The only windows on that particular side of the house were what was called clerestory, which meant they were above eye level and had been designed to let in natural light. That didn’t stop Duncan. He dragged over a chair, anchoring it against the wall and hefted himself up to look out.

He cursed.

“There’s a fire right next to your house,” he told her, causing her heart to race even more. “It’s already at least four feet high.”

The exterior was wood, and while Joelle hoped it wouldn’t easily ignite, her visitor must have believed that would be the result. Either that, or he or she had wanted Duncan and her just to go running out.

Duncan made another call to dispatch, this time to alert the fire department. Something the person outside must have figured they would do. And that meant the seconds were ticking down. If Duncan and she waited until the firefighters arrived, the house could be engulfed in flames, putting them and the baby at risk. But the risk could be there if they ran, too.

“My car’s in the garage,” she let him know.

The vehicle wasn’t bullet resistant but then neither was Duncan’s truck, which was parked by her porch. Still, if they were in her car, at least they could try to drive out of there if the fire overtook the house.

Duncan made another of those sounds of agreement, and he took her keys from her when she scooped them up from the foyer table. That meant he was no doubt planning on being behind the wheel and that he would insist she get down. The cop part of her hated she had to make such concessions. However, the baby changed her priorities, and Joelle knew that both Duncan and she would do anything and everything possible to keep their child safe.

“I have to disarm the security system until we’re through the garage door,” she relayed to him, using her phone to do that. The moment they were inside her car, though, she reset the alarm.

In the distance, Joelle heard the welcome sound of a cruiser’s siren, but her relief over the backup was short-lived.

Because the next sound she heard was a blast.

Some kind of explosion roared through the house and garage, shaking the very foundation. Paint cans and gardening tools fell from the shelves and hooks, smashing onto the concrete floor. Each crash only escalated the urgency and fear.

So did the smoke.

The scent of it got much stronger, and Joelle could see whiffs of the smoke seeking beneath the mudroom door and into the garage. Thankfully, there was no smoke around the garage door itself, and that was likely the reason Duncan started the car and hit the remote on her visor to open the door.

“Stay down,” he ordered her.

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