Page 6 of The Sheriff's Baby

No need for him to stay quiet since there was no element of surprise here. If the attacker was still inside the house, he would have heard the car that Duncan had been driving and the cruiser. Molly would have, too, and that meant if she’d been capable of calling out for help, she likely would have already done it.

Trying to steel himself for the worst but praying for the best, Duncan went into the house, staying low and leading with his gun. His attention whipped to the right, then the left. He took in the toppled lamp on the floor, but it seemed to be the only sign of a struggle.

Room by room, he made his way through the place, recalling the time or two he’d been here with his folks when they’d visited Molly’s parents. Years ago, even before Molly had been born. Duncan was thirty-seven and Molly just twenty-four so he’d been plenty old enough to recall coming here for her folks to show off their baby girl. Maybe that was one of the reasons Molly had wanted to raise her child here. Her home. A place where she’d no doubt felt safe.

That last thought twisted his gut into knots so Duncan kept moving, kept searching, all the while listening for, well, anything. In addition to being able to hear anything in the house, he also needed to make sure nothing was going on outside with Joelle and Luca. So far, he wasn’t hearing or seeing anything. Nothing out of place except for that lamp.

Until he made it to one of the bedrooms.

Molly’s no doubt, and there were plenty of signs of a struggle here. The bed was empty, but the covers had been dragged off, and the clock and lamp that’d almost certainly been on the nightstand were now on the floor.

“Molly?” he called out again and still got no response.

The overhead light was off, but there was a nightlight plugged in the outlet near the door to the adjoining bath. It was enough for him to see more of those blood drops.

Hell.

Duncan moved faster now, checking out the bathroom for any signs of Molly. Nothing. So he kept moving, hurrying to the other rooms. They were all empty, but he got another jolt when he saw the nursery all decked out in shades of pink. Since Joelle’s and his baby was also a girl, it made the gut punch even harder.

Pushing that aside, he made his way back through the house and was careful not to touch anything. Whoever had taken Molly might have left prints or some kind of trace evidence in the struggle, and Duncan didn’t want to compromise that any more than he already had.

He went back to the porch and saw that Luca was out of the cruiser and near Joelle’s vehicle. The deputy immediately looked up at him, but Duncan had to shake his head.

“Molly’s not here,” Duncan relayed to them. “And there’s blood on the porch and in the master bedroom. I want a BOLO for Molly and a CSI team in here right away.”

That got Joelle coming out of the car. “There’s a garden shed in the back,” she said, already moving as if to head in that direction. “Molly could be in there.”

Duncan cursed and went after her. “I know about the shed and was about to check it out.” He was about to order her back to the car, but she spoke before he could manage to say it.

“I have to help,” she insisted.

Joelle wasn’t crying. She was too much of a cop for that. But her voice was shaky, and he figured that applied to the rest of her as well. Along with the mother lode of adrenaline, she was also battling the overwhelming fear that a woman they both knew had been kidnapped or killed and that the same thing had nearly happened to her.

“Stay close to me,” Duncan finally agreed.

He’d make this search quick so he could get Joelle into at least some minimal cover. Then, he could take her to the sheriff’s office while they regrouped and figured out their next move.

As he’d remembered, the shed was in the backyard, not far from the porch that wrapped around the entire house. Duncan made a cursory look of the area, then a quick glance into the shed just to see if by some miracle Molly was hiding there. She wasn’t.

“Molly?” he called out one last time.

When he got no response, he hurried back to the car with Joelle and got her inside. “Start calling her neighbors,” Duncan instructed. “I want to know if anyone saw or heard anything.”

He doubted that’d been the case, though. If so, those neighbors would have already headed over. Still, it was possible that someone had heard something that would give them clues as to who had taken Molly.

There was the howl of sirens in the distance, and Duncan knew it wouldn’t be long before more deputies arrived. Good. He’d have them check around the place while he got on the phone with the Texas Rangers and Highway Patrol. Both agencies would get word of the BOLO, but Duncan wanted to emphasize that Molly was pregnant and she worked for law enforcement. Molly was one of them, and that would hopefully get her the highest priority.

Duncan took out his phone, ready to get started on those calls, but he stopped when he caught some movement from the corner of his eye. He pivoted in that direction, in the same motion taking aim with his Glock. Then, he stopped when he spotted something.

The woman walking toward them.

Correction: staggering toward them.

It wasn’t Molly. No, this woman was older and had graying black hair that was tangled around her face. She was barefoot and wearing a ripped shirt over stained gray yoga pants.

Duncan’s first thought was this was Sandra McCullough, Joelle’s mother who’d deserted her family the day her husband had been murdered. No one had seen or heard from her since. But it wasn’t Sandra, and Duncan had no idea who she was.

Joelle got out of the car, taking aim as well. So did Luca, but Duncan could see both of the woman’s hands, and she wasn’t armed. Still, this could be some kind of ploy so he approached her with caution.

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